âLook who finally decided to grace us with his presence.â
His eyes darted to you, sitting beside Sylus in Calebâs shirt. The fabric is stretched tight over your hips, the top few buttons undone to show flushed skin.
âW-welcome back,â you say, squirming against the leather couch.
âHappy birthday, pup.â
âNo cake, bossman? Sure youâre actually wishing me a happy birthday?â
Sylus wears a slow, dark smile, looking right from Caleb to your trembling lips. âNo cake. But I prepared a dessert.â
Caleb finally notices one of Sylusâs large hands hidden under your shirt. He can see the fabric moving up, exposing the soft curve of your waist, youâre wearing absolutely nothing under it.
âSpread your legs for him, sweetie,â Sylus murmurs in a gravelly voice.
âMmhâŚâ you part your thighs slowly, revealing Sylusâs fingers deep inside you, drenched in your arousal.
He stretches you open, the blunt depth of it making you moan, before pulling his calloused digit out until a line of thick arousal stretch between his fingers and your pussy.
Caleb swallows hard, his throat tight as he looks at you. You wearing his shirt alone, the thought of his scent enveloping your body, he almost cant restraint himself. He pants, eyes locked onto your glistening thighs and the thick, honey slick dripping heavily from your cunt.
"Fuck..." his voice is strained, raw and dark with sudden heat. "Is all that for me?"
The tight fabric of his trousers straining, his cock throbbing painfully against the zipper, leaking and begging to be let out.
"That's right," Sylus murmured, his dark eyes locked on him, thoroughly enjoying the younger man's desperation. "Come get your dessert."
Caleb strides over to you, dropping heavily onto his knees right between yours.
He strips himself bare and ruthlessly) buries his face between your thighs, his hot tongue licks hungrily at your sweet arousal, drinking you in. You arch off the couch, your hips pinning his face closer as he devours you.
He pauses for just a second, his lips grazing your soaking skin as he mumbles deeply against your inner thigh, "Best birthday gift ever..." when he nuzzle his head against your thighs like a puppy, you giggle before a breathless, broken moan escaping your lips as you fist your fingers into his hair, pulling him deeper against your heat.
âHappy birthday, Caleb đ§Ąâ
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Comments, reblogs and likes are appreciated đđ§Ąâ¤ď¸
âThis siscon makes her scream and cum in less than a minute,â Caleb shoots back, sitting closer with a smug grin.
Sylusâs eyes narrow, his tone dripping with confidence. âI make her squirt.â
âYeah? She begs for my fingers,â Caleb brags, looking at his raised hand spinning back and forth. âShe makes the prettiest fucking noises whenever I slide deep enough to hit her sweet spot.â
âShe worships my tongue,â Sylus counters, a predatory edge in his voice. He looks down and nonchalantly rubbing his fingers. âShe arches that sweet back and grabs my hair, pulling my mouth right into her wet cunt.â
The room goes quiet, but the air gets heavy. Their breathing turns rough and uneven. Itâs not even about the competition anymore. Both of them are completely hard, their zippers straining against their pants.
Caleb notice it first, catching Sylusâs dark eyes tracking the bulge in Calebâs trousers. Caleb looks right back down at Sylusâs lap, seeing the exact same thing. Without even thinking, their hands twitch, unconsciously reaching toward each otherâs waistbands.
They freeze mid-motion, caught completely off guard by their own hands.
Caleb clears his throat, his voice rough. âYou know the second she walks through that door, sheâs getting the full brunt of this, right?â
Sylus drops his hand, his eyes locking onto the handle. âRight. Letâs just stop here.â
Right on cue, keys jingle sharply from the outside lock.
đâ⥠rory ; 21 ; army since 2017 ( i love bts but jk has my heart <3) and book lover since forever (my fav books are tog and acotar) <3 also like anime (my fav anime is jjk and i love gojo satoru with my whole heart)
current hyperfixtation: arirang album <3 / seeing bts in june / jujutsu kaisen (again)
ao3 link to my profile <3
dividers used in my fics by @enchanthings-a
navigation â masterlist
all rights reserved to Šnightcourtangel no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 5.5 | Part 6 coming soon! | Masterlist
Authorâs Note: Please read from Part 1 to fully enjoy the series đ
The air in the lounge was thick with a cold, suffocating tension. Sylus sits leaned back in a slightly charred velvet chair, eyes shut tight as he channels Mephistoâs sight. The holographic projection in the center of the room flickers, broadcasting every wet, rhythmic sound from the studio. Sylusâs fingers dig into the armrest, the fabric groaning.
"Heâs marking her like sheâs a piece of canvas," he rumbles, a low, dangerous growl. "Trying to drown out our scent with salt and oil."
Xavier steps closer to the flickering light, his gaze fixed on the iridescent trail on your collarbone. "I have played the innocent for so long, waiting for her to choose me," he whispers, his voice trembling with a sharp, hidden envy. "How did he get her to let him ruin her like⌠that?"
Zayne stands in the corner, his posture so rigid the floorboards begin to frost. "The lack of hygiene in that room... pigments and oils in open pores. Itâs reckless," he states, his voice clipping each word while his eyes track the flush on your skin.
Caleb turns towards him, his face flushed with anger. "Hygiene? Look at the fire damage, Doc! He almost burned her alive, and now heâs 'reclaiming' her like property? Itâs sick. I don't care what connection he thinks he hasâI'm the only one here who treats her like a person and not a prize."
"A person you can't even keep track of, apparently," Sylus interjects, opening one eye to glare at Caleb. "If you're so concerned with her safety, why were you the last one to the studio? Your âbrotherlyâ protection is clearly lacking."
"Don't you dare," Caleb snaps, his hand twitching toward his side. "You and Xavier act like youâve known her forever, but sheâs different now. When is it my turn to have a moment without you breathing down our necks?"
Xavier doesn't turn around, but his shoulders tense. "I thought she wanted someone she could trust. A lover," he murmurs, his eyes darkening as Rafayelâs fingers move on the screen. "Turns out she just wanted to be possessed. Iâve been holding back for nothing."
"Sheâs overstimulated," Zayne interrupts, his voice dropping an octave as your moans grow louder. "Her heart rate is peaking. If he doesn't slow down, he'll cause a vasovagal response. Heâs being too selfish."
"He's being a man whoâs lost his mind," Sylus corrects, a dark, mocking huff escaping him. "Heâs clearly forgotten his place. Itâs time we remind the fish that he isnât the only predator in the water."
The bickering dies instantly as your image on the projection goes limp. The sight of you blacking out in Rafayelâs arms shatters the last of their restraint.
"Sheâs out," Caleb barks, already halfway to the stairs. "She fainted. Thatâs itâthe show's over and Iâm taking her out of that madmanâs reach."
The heavy silence was replaced by the thunder of footsteps as the fragile truce shatters. No longer content to watch from the shadows, the four of them scrambles toward the stairs, driven by a mix of worry, envy, and the desperate need to tear you away from the artistâs arms.
Not me loving the bickeringâsomethingâs wrong with me. Maybe all the new words crammed within days. Sorry in advance if there are words that are⌠umm english is not my main language and thereâs so much thing to fix but I do hope you enjoy the story đ¤đ
Send help I still imagine them bickering as blobbus
Five men claim your body, but only one remembers the name of your soul.
Warning Tags (for this part only): NSFW, MDNI, smut, p in v, dubcon to consent, smut, graphic violence, threats, arson, psychological, body marking, existential crisis, mental breakdown, polyamory/polycore, dark characters, obsessive, possessive, praise/degradation, angst with happy ending? (No spoiler ok), etc. Please be kind (WC: 8.1K)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4 | Part 4.3 | Part 4.5 | Part 5 | Part 5.5 | Part 6
Authorâs Note: Please read from part 1 to fully enjoy the series đ
âWhere are you going, star?â
Xavier rubs at his leaden eyelid, the limb heavy with sleep as he struggles to surface. His gaze is hazy, unfocused as he tracks your silhouette. You move with practiced haste, snatching your clothes from the nightstand where they sit in a neat stack. âIs your body alright?â
Your pulse thrums in your throat as you lean over him. You catch the stubborn curve of his cowlick and press a lingering kiss to his eyelid; the contact draws a vibrating hum of contentment from his chest. âI have something I have to do. I might not return to my apartment tonight.â
His eyes snap open, the softness vanishing instantly. An alarmed, sharp edge cuts through his expression as he watches you reach behind your back, fingers fumbling with the stubborn zipper at the base of your dress. âWhy?â
âIâI forgot about Rafayel. Iâll explain later.â You turn your back to him the moment the zipper teeth reach the top. Before you can take a step, his hand catches your wrist with precise strength. He pulls you back onto the mattress, dragging you into the heat of his lap. His arms lock around you like iron bands, and he presses his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck. A breathless moan escapes you. âXavi, I donât have time for thisâŚ!â
âWhy? Will you take another man in your arms?â He nips at your earlobe, a sharp sting that sends a jolt through your spine. Your hands instinctively find his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt. âI donât like it. Is four men not enough for you?â
âNo, of course not! IâI just need to explain to him that Iâm not the one heâs looking for.â
âSo youâll reject him? Rafayel?â He licks the hollow behind your ear, his breath a scorching contrast to the chill of your skin. Your legs tremble as his palm grazes your inner thigh, moving with a terrifyingly slow deliberation. His voice is a soothing, honeyed lure. âDonât go. Stay, bunny. Even just for a little while.â
The longing in his eyes is a physical ache, a watery shine catching the light as his lashes flutter. You want to sink back into him, but the thought of Rafayel waiting is a cold weight in your gut. You cup his face, meeting that pained, desperate stare.
âIâm just going to talk, XaviâŚâ
He leans into your palm, nuzzling your skin as if trying to anchor you there. His forehead rests against yours, his hands clutching yours with a grip that suggests he already knows what you just said wonât happen.
âThen kiss me, like you love only me. Just this one time.â
His lips crash into yours. The wet of his silent tears brushes your cheek. If you could tear your heart out as an offering, you would. Your own tears blur your vision as the kiss deepens, tongues tangling in a desperate, frantic dance for closeness.
Suddenly, he pushes you away. You gasp, stumbling as you scramble to find your balance on the edge of the bed. He jerks his head to the side, his hand scrubbing harshly at his eyes before you can see the extent of his ruin. He takes one jagged, shuddering breath.
ââŚgo.â
Your heart clenches, a dull throb of agony. The manâs heartfelt kiss makes every instinct scream at you to stay, to fix the shattered expression on his face, but you force your legs to move. You steel yourself, turning away and fleeing into the hall.
The elevator chimes, the doors sliding shut. Your phone vibrates in your hand.
"The sun is already up, pips, and my monitors say your bed is still empty. Care to tell me whose floor you're standing on right now, or should I come find you myself?"
"Rafayelâs been callingâhe sounds spiraling. I need to go to the studio and calm him down before he does something reckless. I'll head home right after, alright?"
âPipââ
You kill the call before he can protest. The elevator drops, and you burst out into the warm air, scanning the street for a taxi.
A flashy sport car halts directly in your path, kicking up a fine mist of dust that catches the harsh midday glare. You recoil, heart hammering against your ribs. The door clicks open with a heavy, mechanical thud.
Sylus steps out, his towering frame cutting through the brilliant sunlight, casting a long, sharp shadow that stretches across the pavement to swallow you whole. His smile is the same smug as always, but even under the bright, unforgiving sky, his right eye flickers with a faint, ominous glow that the sun cannot drown out.
âGoing somewhere, kitten?â
âIâm going to Rafayelâs studio.â Before you can walk away, his hand seizes your arm, his grip unyielding as he practically tosses you into the plush leather of the passenger seat. âAck! Sylusââ
"You look tired. Hard night?" He shuts the door with a click that sounds final, his shadow swallowing you whole. "You've got exactly ten seconds to explain before I lose my patience. Start talking."
"I was with Xavier and Zayne last night. There's no point in hiding it, is there?" The words are a jagged whisper. You stand perfectly still, but inside, your heart is hammering against your ribs. A cold bead of sweat trickles down your temple, the only movement in the suffocating stillness of the room. âYou probably knew already. Isnât that why youâre here?â
"You said you love me and Caleb, kitten. I swallowed my pride for you. Now I find out youâre running a five-man rotation? Tell meâis your heart really that bottomless, or are you just trying to see how much Iâll endure before I break?"
The accusation stings. Why is everyone reaching the same conclusion? âOf course not! I just need toââ
"Talk. Isn't that the little performance you gave us before?" He catches your chin in a grip of iron, forcing your gaze to collide with his. He leans in until the world is nothing but his shadow and the fire in his eyes. "Tch. Look at where all that talk got you. Even now, youâre sitting in my car reeking of themâI can practically smell their filth dripping off you."
You gasp, the air leaving your lungs as if heâd struck you. You open your mouth to retaliate, but the raw, bleeding hurt in his eyes stops the words in your throat.
âI want you to have the world, sweetieâwhatever keeps that smile on your faceâbut don't mistake my patience for weakness. I have no intention of playing part in it. Dealing with Caleb is already enough to make me want to burn this city to the ground.â
âSylusââ
âWhat if I just slaughtered the lot of them? It would certainly save us some time. You can hate me all you want for it. Iâm a patient man, kitten; Iâm confident youâll find a way to forgive me eventually."
âSylus!!â
The horrified scream echoes in the cramped, opulent space of the car. Silence follows, heavy and suffocating.
"You think I'm enjoying this? Being some... greedy bitch taking all of you?" The dam finally bursts, and the tears are hot, blurring the sight of him looming over you. "I swear to God, I didn't want any of this!"
âKittenââ
âI wasn't trying to play with your hearts... if I had the choice, to come here before her relationships become tangled like this, I wouldn't have picked any of you!â
âY/Nââ
âBecause you're real. You aren't just pixels or a script on a screen anymoreâyou're actual people, and I'm drowning in a life that isn't mine!â
You bury your face in your hands, the sound of your sobbing filling the car like a confession. For a moment, there is only the hum of the engine, but then you feel his leather-gloved fingersânot seizing you this time, but hooking under your wrists. He pulls your hands away with a slow, agonizing gentleness, forcing you to look at him.
The sight stops your breath. Sylus isn't looking at you with the rage of a zone leader; heâs looking at you with the hollowed-out stare of a man who has finally stopped fighting the inevitable. The raw, crimson fire in his eyes is clouded, reflecting a mirror of your own misery.
"Iâve known since the first night," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, jagged vibration that vibrates in your very bones. "I felt the change. I saw the way your soul didn't quite fit the seams of her skin."
âWhatâŚ? If you know thenââ
âAnd yet, it feels like your soul coming back to the right place.â He doesn't reach for your tears. Instead, he leans back, his jaw tight enough to snap. "Your fate was a disaster of tangled threads long before you arrived in this body, kitten. Youâre just walking proof that time and souls don't always move in straight linesâand that Iâm cursed to want you even when youâre not her."
He looks at the device in your hand, a grimace of pure defeat flashing across his face. Heâs a man who takes what he wants, yet he finds himself letting you walk away. He snatches the phone, his fingers blurring as he whispers, reading familiar numbers from your phone, then jerks the car to the curb. The studio looms outside. "Go on, then. Before I change my mind and decide that 'sharing' was a mistake."
The air inside is thick with the chemical tang of turpentine and the heavy, metallic scent of wet acrylic. It looks less like a sanctuary of art and more like a war zone. Ripped papers and scratched sketches litter the floor like fallen leaves. Canvases have been slashed open, their wooden frames splintered. Countless brushes lie snapped and strewn across the floorboards.
Paints are smeared across every surfaceâcrimson, violet, and abyssal blackâdripping down the walls like weeping wounds.
Rafayel stands in the center of the wreckage, a haunting silhouette. He is motionless. One hand clutches a crooked, paint-stained brush; the other carries a pail of red paint that slow-drips onto the floor with a rhythmic tap. He is facing a massive canvas, a sea of violent red that depicts a scene of such visceral horror it makes your skin crawl.
You call his name, once, twice, but he doesn't flinch. You reach out to turn him toward you, but his hand snaps up, stopping you mid-air.
When he finally turns, his eyes are calm. It is a terrifying, flat calm. There is no light reflecting in his pupils, just a hollow, violet depth that sends a chill down your spine. You take a step backâsomething is wrong.
âWhere are you going?â He tilts his head, a crooked, empty smile touching his lips. Itâs the look of a man who has spent all night talking to ghosts and finally found a living thing to break.
âRafayel, Iâm so sorry for not coming sooner. Something happenedââ
"Something happened," he repeats, his voice a soft, melodic hum that doesn't reach his hollow eyes. He steps closer, the red paint from his brush splattering onto your shoes. He doesn't hug you. Instead, he leans in, his nose brushing against the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply as if heâs trying to find a specific pigment in the air.
His breath hitches. The empty smile vanishes, replaced by a sneer of pure revulsion.
"The ocean air can't even mask it," he whispers, his voice suddenly sharp enough to draw blood. "You reek of themâof their touch, their heat, their pathetic attempts to claim you. Itâs sickening."
He gestures with the paint-dripping brush toward the ruined studio, then back at you. "Is this what you traded me for, Y/N? Did you sever our bond just so you could sink this low into their arms? Did you leave me to drown in this silence just so you could be marked by them?"
âI-I can explainâŚ!â The words tumble out, frantic and thin, as you struggle to find a logical thread in the chaos of your arrival. You tell him about the blur of the past week, about the disorientation of waking up in a body that feels like a stranger's, and the suffocating pressure of four other men who look at you with eyes full of a history you donât own.
He doesn't move. He listens in a silence so profound, so heavy, it pushes the oxygen out of the room. The pail of red paint in his hand tremors, a single crimson drop splattering against his boot like a stray heartbeat.
He isn't looking at your face. His gaze is fixed on the marks visible at the edge of your collar, tracing the evidence of another manâs touch with a terrifying, clinical stillness. You stop speaking when you realize he isn't hearing your excuses; he is looking at you the way a painter looks at a ruined canvas. The air between you grows cold, then suddenly, violently sharp, until finally, the âterrifying calmâ you saw earlier shatters.
âFour men?â His voice is a low, dangerous rasp. âIs that the price of changing souls? Youâve let four different sets of hands defiled the heart that was promised to the salt and the sea before their ancestors were even born.â
Rafayelâs laugh is a jagged, broken thing, devoid of its usual playifulness. He steps into your space, the smell of turpentine and sea salt rolling off him in waves. His eyes burn with a violet fire that feels like a physical weight against your chest, pinning you where you stand.
"Iâve spent an eternity waiting for you to come home," he whispers, his face inches from yours, his breath shaky with a mix of fury and heartbreak. "And you walk back into my studio wearing the scent of a whole city on your skin. Tell me... did you even think of me once while they were fucking you?"
You take a step back, but he matches you, closing the distance until you're backed against a splintered easel.
âYou yield to them, you cry for them... you let them ruin you until youâre a mess of their collective greed,â he whispers, his voice trembling with a terrifying fragility. âYet you still canât remember the name I gave your soul. Itâs a beautiful irony, isnât it? I called you Little Pearl because you were the heart of the sea I was meant to cherish. But while Iâve been drowning in my own devotion, youâve been busy being conquered by everyone but me.â
He catches your chin, his grip trembling with a mix of hunger and a raw hatred for the world that kept you from him.
âTell me... when theyâre inside you, when youâre screaming their names, do you feel that guilt? That hollow ache in your chest that no amount of their heat can fill?â He leans in, his eyes searching yours for a trace of the woman he lost. âThatâs me. Thatâs the ghost of a bond youâre trying to bury under the weight of four other men. You can give them your skin, you can give them your breath... but you will never be able to give them what youâve already forgotten you gave to me. You are mine, my Little Pearl.â
He seizes the back of your head, pulling you forward until your foreheads collide with a jarring thud. The faint, bioluminescent glow in his eyes flares, turning a blinding, abyssal gold.
Suddenly, the studio vanishes. The smell of turpentine is replaced by the crushing pressure of deep water. You are pulled down into a vision, the colors saturated and flickering like an old reel.
The waves of Lemuria were unusually quiet that night, glowing with a soft, bioluminescent pulse that mirrored the steady rhythm of your heartâas if the ocean itself was tuned to your breathing. Rafayel sat beside you on the edge of the white stone terrace, the heavy silk of his robes bleeding into the moonlight. For once, his restless energy had stilled into something profound and ancient. He was simply watching you, his gaze so fixed that it felt like he was memorizing the very way the air moved around you.
"From now on," he whispered, his voice barely rising above the rhythmic sigh of the tide, "I will call you Little Pearl."
You turned to him, blinking in confusion. The name felt heavy, rolling off his tongue with a reverence that made your skin tingle. "Little Pearl? Why?"
He didn't answer immediately. He reached out, his cool fingers tracing the line of your palm before he interlaced his fingers with yours, squeezing gently. He looked down at your joined hands, his expression stripped of all masks.
"Itâs the soul formed in the lightless depthsâthe only treasure the sea ever truly creates." he explained, his voice thick with a quiet, shimmering emotion that felt as deep as the trenches.
You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips, trying to lighten the weight of his stare. "Is that how you see me? Just a piece of jewelry?"
"No," he corrected softly, finally meeting your eyes. The violet in his iris seemed to deepen, drowning in a sincerity that made your breath hitch. "A jewel is meant to be displayed, but you... you are meant to be kept. Deep within the shell of my heart, where no storm can reach you. To the world, a pearl is a luxury. To me, it is the only reason the ocean doesn't feel empty.â
He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, the heat of his skin a stark contrast to the cool sea breeze, his breath warm against your lips.
"I call you Little Pearl because even if the sea were to dry up and Lemuria were to turn to dust, I would still be holding you. You are the only treasure I refuse to give back to the tide. You are the one I yield to. Always.â
The memory shatters like glass. The soft moonlight of Lemuria is replaced by the harsh, turpentine-scented air of the ruined studio. Rafayelâs grip on your chin tightens, his fingers trembling. His eyes are no longer soft; they are reflecting a thousand years of solitude.
"Do you remember now?" he rasps, his voice a distorted echo of that long-ago sweetness. "I stayed in the depths, waiting... guarding my heart and my sanity for your return."
He leans in until his nose brushes yours, his gaze burning through your frantic mask.
"Only to find you've tossed my treasure into the hands of other men," he sneers, the word surrender sounding like a curse. "Men who don't even know the name of the soul they're holding. Tell me, Little Pearlâwas I just the first thing you decided to throw into the void?"
He leans down, his lips ghosting over yoursânot in a kiss, but in a claim that feels like a brand.
âThey have held this body, and they have claimed your days. But I am the only one who truly knows the weight of your soul," he murmurs against your skin. "I am the only one who remembers the girlâthe one who exists behind those eyes, even if youâve forgotten the sound of her own name.â
âRaf, please⌠listen to me.â You find the courage to press your palm against his cheek, his skin hot and damp with exertion. He flinches at the contact, then nuzzles into your hand with a desperate, animalistic hunger, though his violet eyes remain locked on yours, unblinking.
âIâm not herâat least not the one you know.â The words feel like glass in your throat, but you force them out. âI woke up in this body a week ago... I am a stranger wearing the face of the woman you love. I didn't mean to sever your bondâI didn't even know it existed until now.â
The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the sharp clack of a few more pearls hitting the floorâthe sound of his composure scattering. Rafayel didn't flinch at your confession. He didn't call you a liar. Instead, he just leaned into your palm, his eyes searching yours with an intensity so invasive it felt like he was trying to look through your skin to see the soul beneath.
âAlways an excuse,â he rasped, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous vibration. âEven now... youâre still itching to get away from me.â
Before you could pull your hand back, he seized your face. The kiss wasn't a movie moment; it was a collision of teeth and desperation. You winced as a sudden, forceful heat flooded your chestâa golden-violet surge that felt less like magic and more like a hook sinking deep into your ribs, tethering you to him.
âThere,â he whispered against your lips, his breath hitched and uneven. âIâve tied us back together. You donât get to escape me anymore. Not this time.â
He let go of your face so abruptly you stumbled. You took a staggering step back, your head spinning from the magical surge, but he kept coming. He moved toward you with a jagged, limping gaitâthe look of a man who had reached his breaking point and just kept walking.
âWhere are you going now?â His voice cracked on the last word. âBack to them? How many more times do I have to lose you? How many more lifetimes am I supposed to spend waiting while you... you treat your own body like a rental?â
âRafayel, stopâI-Iâm notâŚ!â You scrambled backward, your heel snapping a discarded paintbrush with a loud crack. âYouâre scaring me. Just... just breathe for a second so we can actually talk!â
The air in the room suddenly turned scorching, the temperature spiking until the oxygen felt like a heavy, liquid weightâlike breathing in molten lead. Rafayelâs Evol flaresâa violent, flickering crimson flame. The heat didn't just rise; it screamed, licking at the heavy curtains and charring the floorboards beneath his feet with a rhythmic, sickening hiss.
He didn't even flinch as the wood blackened. The smell of ozone and burning silk filled the space, a physical manifestation of a soul that had finally reached its breaking point.
He looked at you through the flickering haze of the heat. His eyes were no longer violet; the color had been burned away, leaving behind a molten, terrifying gold that seemed to glow from within. In that moment, the man you knew was gone. He was no longer the artist who painted pretty things; he was the God of Tides who had watched his ocean dry up, leaving behind nothing but salt and a thousand years of bitterness.
The studio, his sanctuary, is beginning to smoke, but his gaze never left yours. He looked like a man prepared to burn the whole world down just to make sure you couldn't run back into the arms of anyone else.
âDo you see this?â he whispers. His voice wasn't a shout, but a low-frequency tremor that vibrated in your very marrow. He gestures at the fire scaling the walls, sealing the exits in a cage of orange and black. âThe world is ending in this room, Little Pearl.â
He laughedâa jagged, hollow sound that made your blood run coldâand stepped into the heart of the heat. The heat began to singe the hem of your clothes, the scent of scorched fabric filling your nose.
He catches your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The heat is agonizing, yet he holds you with a crushing strength that says he will never let go, even if you both turn to ash.
âYouâve spent so much time being âaliveâ for them,â he rasps, his breath hot and ragged against your cheek. âGiving them your smiles, your touch... while I rotted in the cold dark. If I canât have you alive, then so be it. I will burn away the marks they left on you. I will burn away the memories of the doctor, the knight, and those criminals out of your skin until the only thing left of you is the soul that once belonged to me.â
The fire roars behind him, a wall of gold and red closing in like the jaws of a beast. He didn't blink. He looks at you with a gaze of pure, obsessive adoration, his fingers tangling in your hair to force your gaze toward the destruction heâd created.
âLet them try to find you in the soot. Let them try to claim a woman who has drifted beyond the reach of mortal hands.â
He leans down, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that tasted of smoke and desperation. He isnât trying to save you; he is claiming you in the most permanent way he knows how. As the ceiling begins to groan and the heat became unbearable, a dark, serene smile crossed his faceâthe look of a man who had finally found peace in total annihilation.
âDonât look so frightened, love,â he murmured, pulling you into one last, suffocating embrace as the world turned white with heat. âDying in each othersâ arms sounds romantic for an end, donât you think?â
âI wonât let you burn her.â
The voice is a blade of ice, cutting clean through the roar of the furnace. Zayne stands at the threshold, his silhouette a clinical, freezing shadow against the orange glare. As he steps inside, a sudden chill sweeps the room; frost races from the floor where he steps across the charred floorboards like a living thing, climbing the walls to meet the crimson flames. The fire doesn't just go outâit screams, hissing and dying under the weight of the cold until thick, white steam billows into the wreckage.
Rafayel screamsâa sound so raw and otherworldly it doesn't seem to belong to him.
The sudden drop in temperature and the sheer weight of your survival hit you all at once. The tension that had been holding your spine upright simply... evaporates. Your knees buckle, your body finally giving up on the fight to stay standing.
You don't hit the floor.
A hand catches yours, firm and familiar, and a strong arm hooks around your waist, pulling you upright before you can collapse. Caleb steadies you against him, his presence a grounded heat that replaces the terrifying fire you just escaped. âI got you, baby.â
âWhy⌠why are all of you here?â you gasp, your voice a thin, trembling thread.
âHeâs the scariest bastard out of all of us, sweetie,â Sylus remarks, his voice dry and dangerously calm despite the chaos. He steps into the clearing, his Evol sweeping the charred debris and shattered glass out of the way with a casual flick of his wrist. "I didn't think I'd be playing chauffeur for your other boyfriends, but the tracker on your phone started screaming 'combustionâ. Iâll hold off on the massacre until you're not standing in the middle of a furnace, kitten."
Rafayel buried his face in his hands, his head tilted back. When his hands finally dropped, his eyes were a total wreckageâa jagged landscape of hatred and raw, unadulterated grief. Pearls began to clatter onto the floor in a frantic rhythm, glowing with a ghostly light as they caught the fading embers of the dying fire.
âDid you come to laugh at me?!â he snarls, the words tearing at his throat. His gaze darts from Zayneâs cold resolve to Sylusâs smirk and Caleb and Xavierâs protective stance. Fire erupted againânot a wall this time, but concentrated spheres of molten heat hurtling toward the intruders. Zayne didn't flinch. He moved with the calm precision of a surgeon, meeting every fireball with a wall of impenetrable ice that hissed violently upon contact. The room filled with a blinding, suffocating fog of steam.
âRafayelâŚ!â you cried out, your heart fracturing as you watched him twist in a paroxysm of agony. The weight of his thousand-year wait finally crushed your resolve. âIâm sorryâI shouldâve come to you first! I shouldn't have left you alone!â
You wrenched yourself away from Caleb. He reached out to catch your arm, his fingers brushing your sleeve, but you were too fast, fueled by irrational desperation. You sprinted through the swirling steam and the puddles of melted ice, throwing your arms around Rafayel.
You clung to him, burying your face in his chest, ignoring the way his skin still radiated a fading heat.
âRafayel, pleaseâŚ! I canât bear to see you like thisâŚ!â You press your face into his chest. Fresh pearls strike your head like heavy raindropsâthe sound of his heart continuing to weep in the wreckage. Around him, the fire flickers dangerously, responding to the erratic beat of his pulse.
âY/N, itâs dangerous! Get back!â Xavierâs voice cuts through the haze, sharp with a rare, panicked edge. His hands glow with a blinding light as he searches for a gap in the crossfire of ice and flame.
âNo! Donât hurt him!â You scream from afar, and the light fade from his hand.
âPlease, Rafayel! Iâm still your bride!â The words feel like a gamble, a desperate lie or a half-remembered truth, but you throw them at him anyway with a sting of guilt. âDidnât you just stitch back our bond?!â
You reach up, seizing his face with both hands, forcing his molten-gold eyes to meet yours. You kiss him with everything you haveâa kiss that tastes of ash, salt, and a plea for his life.
He freezes. The flames don't just fade; they vanish instantly, leaving the room in a sudden gray. You pull back just an inch, your breath hitching as you look him straight in the eye. âAnd Iâll really die if something happens to you. To any of you. Stop⌠please.â
His strength leaves him all at once, as if youâve pulled the plug on his very existence. His knees hit the charred floor with a heavy thud. He stares blankly at the ground, his lips parted in a daze, the God replaced by a broken man. The only sound left in the room is the rhythmic, hollow clatter of pearls falling onto the floor.
You look back at the others, your eyes stinging from the smoke and the weight of your silent plea. They stand in the wreckageâSylus with his jaw set, Zayne with his hands still shimmering with frost, and Xavier, his worry slowly turning into a hard, complicated shadow.
They exchange looksâdark, heavy expressions that promise this conversation is far from over.
Zayne steps forward before retreating, his clinical gaze sweeping over you with practiced efficiency. He doesn't offer a comfort he doesn't feel, but his fingers graze your wrist for a brief second, checking the frantic gallop of your pulse against the cooling air of the room.
"Your vitals are stabilizing, though the adrenaline spike is significant," he notes, his voice a low, steady anchor amidst the wreckage. He shoots a sharp, warning look at Rafayelâone that promises professional consequences if the 'patient' is put in danger againâbefore adjusting his coat.
"The immediate threat has passed. I'll be within range if your condition changes." With that final, icy assurance, he turns to follow the others, trusting your word but keeping his guard up.
Caleb remains the most silent of the group, his presence a heavy, grounding weight that doesn't need words to be felt. As the others argue and retreat, he stays back, his sharp eyes meticulously scanning the scorched floorboards and the state of Rafayelâs mind.
He doesn't move until he is certain the fire won't reignite, offering you a single, grim nod of recognitionâa silent promise that he is yielding the space to you, but won't be far. He lingers by the doorframe for one last heartbeat, his hand resting briefly on the wood like a soldier marking a perimeter, before finally vanishing into the hallway shadows.
The silence stretches, thick with the smell of wet ash and ozone. It feels like an eternity passes before he finally shifts, his gaze lifting from the floor to meet yours.
âYou were about to throw me away, werenât you?â he asks. His voice is flat, stripped of the God-like resonance from before, leaving only the hollow ache of a man whoâs been rejected.
âIâm⌠sorry,â you whisper, your own voice cracking. âI was scared of the consequence of having⌠yâknow. But I didn't know it would make you⌠like this.â
âLike what? Drowning in despair?â He lets out a short scoff, the light finally returns to his eyes cooling back into a deep, bruised violetâthough they are clouded with shame. He glances toward the shadows where the others vanished. âWhat a shameful appearance... to let them see me like this.â
âYou donât have to mind them.â You take his hand, your fingers still trembling as you lean in to kiss the salt-stained tear tracks from his cheek. âI can arrange to⌠to meet separately. We donât have to do this.â
âAs if that makes it any better.â He gives a short, sarcastic laugh thatâs more of a sigh. But the bitterness doesn't last. He leans in, kissing you back with a sudden, profound reverence. His tongue gently traces the faint, torn spot on your lipâa tiny wound from days ago. ââŚIâm sorry. I guess Iâm no better than they are. Just as desperate. Just as pathetic. Maybe even worse.â
âYou were really scary just moments ago, you know,â you offer a weak, breathless laugh escaping you as he begins to press frantic, soft kisses all over your faceâa silent, desperate apology. âWere you really going to kill me, Raf?â
âOf course not!â He shouts, the dramatic disbelief returning to his voice, the most âRafayelâ thing about him finally resurfacing. âIâI justâI donât know what came over me. Seeing those marks... leaking from the edges of your dress. It felt like they were mocking me.â
âThen cover them. Mark me with yours instead.â
His breath hitches, the sound catching in the back of his throat. A sudden intensity flares in his gaze, but it isn't the fire of a God anymoreâitâs the hunger of a man who has finally been given permission to come home.
With a frantic, blurred motion, he unzips your dress, his own discarded clothes forgotten in the wreckage. He lifts you, settling himself between your thighs as the heat of his skin pressing against yours. His kisses become deeper, more desperate, as if heâs trying to swallow the very air in your lungs.
He doesn't stop. He carries you toward the stairs, away from the charred studio and the watching shadows, leading you into another painting room upstairsâthe one place where the only colors that matter are the ones he chooses for you.
The sky outside had begun to bruise, the vibrant blues of the day deepening into a heavy, melancholic violet. The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a fading trail of burnt orange that barely touched the glass of the window. It was that fleeting, uncertain hour of twilightâthe transition between light and shadowâbut inside the painting room, the air is thick with a different, more suffocating heat.
Rafayel lowers you onto the oversized silk pillows, his movements stripped of their earlier violence and replaced by a trembling, desperate reverence. He discards the last of your clothes, exposing how your liquid arousal already glistens, leaking from your folds and slicking your thighs.
He draws a shaky, deep breath, reveling in how pliant you are, unfolding underneath him like a fresh canvas, before his gaze snags on a dark, blooming bruise on your chest. His jaw tightensâa jagged, broken breath catching in his throat.
He immediately distances himself, his eyes looking around as his hands sweep over the hundreds of glass bottles cluttered in the corner of the room.
âShit, where is itââ His jaw tightens, teeth gritting in a frantic search until his fingers lock around a small vial of pearlescent pigment.
"Look at this," he whispers, his voice a ghost of the playful artist you once knew. He holds the bottle up to the light, the iridescent liquid swirling like captured starlight. "It matches your skinâŚ"
He doesn't reach for a brush; he wants no barrier between his touch and your skin. He pours several pigments onto a porcelain plate and dips his fingers into the cool, viscous pool. When he first traces a line down your collarbone, the chill makes you joltâa sharp, electric contrast to the feverish warmth of the room and the heavy pulse between your legs.
With the devotion of a man reenacting a sacred rite, he begins to paint on you. His touch is microscopic in its detailâeach stroke and dab of his wet fingertips across your ribs and the swell of your breasts is slow and agonizingly intimate. He marks you with his colors, his breath hitching as his painted fingers reach the sensitive peaks of your nipples, circling them until they ache. The sensation is an overwhelming tide of damp, soft touches that leave your eyes swimming with tears.
As he works lower, his hand brushes against the soaking wetness of your cunt. He doesn't stop. He replaces the pigment with a heavy, pearl-infused lubricant that shimmers like liquid moonlight in his palm. He coats the soft skin of your inner thighs in the slick, iridescent liquid before his fingers finally find your clit. He groans at the contact, the lubricant acting as a cooling, viscous glide against your mounting heat.g
"I'm going to cover every inch of you," he murmurs, his voice vibrating against your hip as he spreads your folds wide. His fingers, wet and glistening with the pearlescent lubricant, stretch your cunt open to coat the entrance of your canal in the shimmering, protective slick. "I'm going to mark you until there's no room left for their memories. Until you smell like me and shine like the sea."
âRafayel...â you gasp, your body arching in overstimulation as his slicked fingers glide back and forth against the soft heat of your trembling inner thighs. You try to squirm, to find some relief from the mounting tension, but his hands are firm, prying your knees open to reveal your most vulnerable curves to his obsessed gaze. âHah⌠ohâŚâ
âDonât.â He rasps as you try to shift, his eyes burning with a terrifying adoration. âYouâll ruin my masterpiece.â
He looks up at you, his chest heaving, before his hand finally slides deeper. He lets out a low, guttural sound as his fingers disappear into your heat, feeling the internal walls of your cunt clamping around him, testing your depth and the slickness of your insides. The sight of the pearlescent lubricant mixing with your own juices, dripping from his hand and staining the silk pillows, finally breaks the last of his restraint.
He pulls his hand back, watching the shimmering threads of your arousal snap between his fingers. He reaches for his trousers, his cock already strainingâthick, pulsing, and desperate to finally bury its full length in the only masterpiece that ever mattered.
He lifts your legs, his head bowed as he works to cover the marks of other men with his own presence. It is more than art, and more than just a cover for the bruisesâit is a reclamation of your soul. He pours every ounce of his millennia-old longing into the way he handles your body, until the sight of a black crow fluttering at the window breaks his trance.
"That crow is here again." The crow flinches as it senses Rafayelâs icy glare. "Should I burn it, or just let him watch?"
You immediately look at the window, then back at him, shaking your head. "Donât hurt Mephisto," you plead, your voice a mere thread.
"Tell your master to stop meddling. I wonât hurt her.â He turns back to you, his expression softening into something far tender than adoration it hurts to look at. âNever again."
He leans over you, treating your lips with the fragile kiss one would give a newborn. A single, heavy tear falls from his face, clattering onto the hardwood floor as a perfect, glowing pearl.
âI love you, Y/N. Little Pearl... and all the names you have in past lifetimes. Nothing will ever change the meaning of your name, not even the four of them.â He murmurs against your ear, before lifting himself to look you in the eye. âTo be yours... is the only victory I have ever desired. Donât tell me to go away, baby⌠Please, donât throw me away.â
The raw honesty in his plea shatters your last defenses. This is the price you have to pay for choosing everyoneâa beautiful, crushing guilt. You rise from the silk pillows, tangling your fingers in the soft hair at the back of his head and pulling him into a tear-stained embrace.
âNever againâhic,â you sob against his mouth, your breath hitching. âRafayel... I-Iâm so sorry.â
His knees slide between yours, parting your legs with a slow, deliberate strength until he settles flush against your folds. He begins to grind his length against your cunt, the friction of his thick, pulsing cock against your soaking cunt creating a rhythmic, agonizingly slow heat. Your eyes lock onto his, and in that shared gaze, the bond between you hums with an ancient, undeniable power that makes the world outside the painting room vanish.
Maybe itâs because of the bond, or maybe it's the weight of his confession, but this is the closest youâve ever felt to making love since the first time you woke up in this world. Your heart tugs at every flutter of his lashes; his breath gasps in the tiny spaces between your lips as his warm palms worship every curve and edge of your body. The slow, steady pressure of him rubbing against your clit makes your insides ache, a hollow, desperate throbbing that begs for him to finally enter.
âRafayelâŚâ you whisper, your voice a shuddering plea for the end of this distance. His eyes widen slightly, a mix of relief and surprise.
âY/N.â He nuzzles his cheek to yours, his voice a ragged breath in your ear. âMy sweet, sweet mate. You finally return to me.â
He glides his length slowly into your cunt. Your hips rise in tandem with every inch of his cock entering you, your folds stretching and weeping with iridescent lubricant and your own liquid arousal. You gasp his name as he sinks in to the hilt, the fullness of him claiming your body until you are completely occupied by his presence. He groans, his forehead dropping to yours as he feels the wet, tight grip of your muscles welcoming him home after a thousand years of solitude.
âCalm down, love, please⌠I wonât last,â he murmurs against your skin, his palm tracing the curve of your lower belly with a heavy, grounding pressure to soothe the tremors of your overstimulated body. âBreathe for me.â
âI-I canâtâŚ! Itâs too much at once, Rafayel, pleaseâŚ!â You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to anchor your soul as the sheer intensity of him threatens to shatter your mind.
He leans in, his lips a soft kiss against your eyelids. âOpen your eyes, Y/N. Iâm here. Let me see you, completely mine. Even for just this moment.â
You obey, blinking through a veil of tears to find his molten, gold-flecked gaze devouring you. He begins to moveâa slow, agonizing retreat that makes you whimper as the slick, heavy girth of his cock drags against your sensitive walls. Just as you feel the hollow ache of him leaving, he pushes back in with a deliberate, grounding force. You can feel the blunt tip of his length grazing every hidden, aching depth of your cunt, a beautiful claim that leaves you breathless and conquered.
âAhâŚ!â You clench around him, the sensation too much and yet not enough at once, your hands gripping his arms as you feel the frantic throb of his pulse within you. âRafayel, pleaseâŚ! Iâd rather have you fuck me until I canât think anymoreâŚ!â
âThe day is long, Y/N. At least let me savor this moment.â He murmurs, licking the column of your neck as if to memorize your flavor. âMy Little Pearl. If I could melt our souls together as one, I would die right here in your arms.â
He continues to call you by a litany of names, the syllables spilling from his lips in a variety of languages you donât recognizeâancient, melodic tongues that sound like the pull of a deep tide. Some of them that you do understand, are words of endearment that bloom in the air as raw love confessions, but itâs the way he says them that breaks you. He speaks each name one by one, his voice thick with the weight of the thousands of years he spent waiting in the dark for this exact moment. It is as if he is calling out to you through every separate lifetime he spent without you, searching for the one soul that could finally answer him.
Every slow, deep thrust stimulates you far more than any frantic pace could; the friction builds a tension inside you that feels like it might snap your very soul in two.
âHa-ahâŚ!â Finally, the inevitable occurs. Your body arches, nails clawing into his shoulders as your insides clench in a violent, beautiful release. Rafayel grunts, his eyes snapping shut as the same fire ignites within him.
âGhâŚ!â A ragged grunt escapes him as he feels the fierce, rhythmic pulse of your cunt drawing him under. He closes his eyes, his face a mask of beautiful agony, unable to contain the white-hot sensation of his own surrender.
âY/NâŚ!â He cries your name, his voice a raw, jagged plea that carries the weight of a millennium straight to your heart.
As the frantic waves finally subside, the air remains heavy with the scent of salt and oil. You remain locked in each otherâs gaze for an eternity, stripped of all secrets, before slowly closing your eyes. You lean in to kiss one anotherâa slow, deep, and hungry contact, as if you are trying to drink and devour the very essence of each otherâs souls to ensure you never have to be apart again.
As if to answer your desperate plea for more, his length hardens again within your wet heat, pulsing with a new, frantic urgency. You gasp against his lips, feeling the thick girth of his cock swell and stretch your sensitive walls to their absolute limit. Before you can even catch your breath from the first wave of pleasure, he shifts his rhythm. He paces himself faster now, the slow, agonizing worship of a God replaced by the violent, desperate thrusts of a man who is terrified of losing you again.
The sensitivity of your body after your release only seconds ago makes every impact feel like an electric shock. You cry out as he hammers into you, his cock bottoming out against your cervix with a heavy, wet thud. Rafayel is just as far gone as you are; his face is contorted in a mask of beautiful, raw pleasure, his eyes rolling back as the tight, rhythmic clenching of your cunt threatens to pull his soul right out through his skin.
âFuck, cutie⌠canât stop⌠hah⌠I canâtââ
His breath coming in jagged, desperate hitches. He reaches down, grabbing your painted, oil-slicked breast and kneading the soft flesh with a possessive strength that leaves marks in the pigment. He leans down and bites the peak of your nipple, hardâa sharp, stinging claim that sends a fresh bolt of lightning straight to your clit.
You climax again instantly at the sensation, your insides clamping around his length in a violent, milking rhythm.
âFuck, Rafââ you moan, your head tossing back against the silk pillows as your vision blurs with stars.
He doesn't slow down. If anything, your second release only fuels his hunger. He hooks your knees over his shoulders, prying you even wider, exposing your dripping, overstimulated folds to the cool air of the room before he plunges back in. He fucks you with intensity, his hips snapping against yours until the pearlescent lubricant and your own cream are sprayed across your stomach and the pillow.
Heâs marking you from the inside out, his cock dragging against your G-spot with every relentless, messy thrust. You are drowning in himâin the smell of salt, the taste of his frantic kisses, and the overwhelming weight of his love. Every time you think your body can't take another sensation, he finds a new way to break you, whispering your name in that melodic, forgotten tongue until your mind begins to fray at the edges.
Finally, with a guttural, soul-shattering cry, Rafayel thrusts one last time, burying himself as deep as humanly possible as his own release finally erupts. He collapses against you, his heavy, pulsing length still twitching inside your soaking cunt, filling you to the brim with his heat.
The room is silent save for the sound of your shared, ragged breathing. He doesn't pull away; he stays anchored within you, his lips finding yours for one last, deep, and lingering kiss that tastes of exhaustion and peace.
But itâs too much. Between the emotional trauma of the fire, the shock of the five men facing off in the studio, and the sheer physical toll of Rafayelâs desperate reclamation, your body finally reaches its limit. The world begins to tilt. The golden light from the skylight fades into a soft, hazy gray. As your lips slowly part from his, the tension finally drains from your limbs.
In the safety of his arms, the darkness finally rises to claim you, and you black out into a dreamless, heavy sleep.
Pampering Raf in the end like heâs my mainâgaspâWHO SAID THAT?! Iâll have you know Iâm a faithful đđŚâ⏠supporter! đŚžđŤ
Jokes aside, Iâve been deleting and adding again and again until my head is dizzy. If there are inconsistencies forgive me this is the first time I made such a long story without anyoneâs help proofing. Please help me point them out if you see any so I can fix them immediately before more ppl read ahh so much anxiety! đ
The series are still going on! Well, not for much longer haha but there will be so much extras (I promise those will be sweet and no more angst đ)
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the rollercoaster of emotion in this series! đ¤đ
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4 | Part 4.3 | Part 4.5 | Part 5 coming soon
Authorâs Note: Please read from part 1 to fully enjoy the story đ
The air in the studio was thick with the scent of salt and drying oil, but the atmosphere was suffocating for a different reason. Rafayel stood paralyzed, his hand outstretched as if he could catch the words and shove them back into her mouth.
"I mean it, Rafayel," she said, her voice trembling with a finality that felt sharper than any blade. "Don't come looking for me. Not at the studio, not at the associationânowhere. Just... stay away from me."
"You don't mean that," he managed to choke out, his usual playful spark replaced by a raw, naked panic. "Whatever I did, whatever you think happenedâ"
"It doesn't matter anymore!" she cried, her eyes flashing with a bitterness he didn't recognize. "Iâm done. I hate everything about this. I hate us."
She turned toward the door, her silhouette blurring as if the very reality of the room was beginning to fray. Rafayel tried to move, to grab her wrist, to pull her back into the warmth of the Lemurian sun, but his feet were anchored in deep, cold water.
"Is the circle getting too crowded for me now? Are you finally deciding which of us actually matters?" he yelled after her, his voice breaking. "Is that it? Tell me!"
She didn't look back. "I never want to see you again."
The world fractured. The walls of the studio peeled away like burnt paper, and the floor dissolved into a dark, bottomless sea.
Rafayel bolts upright, his breath coming in jagged, agonizing gasps.
His silk sheets are tangled around his legs like restraints. For a moment, the silence of the room is more terrifying than the shouting in the dream. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to scrub away the image of her walking away, but the words echo in the hollow of his chest: I never want to see you again.
He fumbles for his phone on the nightstand, the bright screen searing his vision.
No new messages.
He scrolls through their chat historyâhis own texts sit there, blue bubbles of desperation.
Silence.
You, the "new" her, the one who looks like her but looks at him with confused, distant eyes, haven't replied. But in his mind, he is still fighting with the woman from the dreamâthe one who truly knew him and truly rejected him.
The grief and the unanswered silence curdle into a sudden, white-hot rage.
He lunges out of bed. With a violent sweep of his arm, he sends the expensive glass jars of pigments on his desk flying. They shatter against the floor, splattering crimson and cerulean across the tiles like a grisly crime scene.
"Answer me!" he hisses at the empty room.
He grabs a nearby easel, the wood splintering as he heaves it against the wall. He doesn't stop. He tearsthrough the studio like a whirlwind, knocking over half-finished canvases, kicking over stools, and sweeping his hand across his shelves. The sound of ceramic breaking and canvas tearing fills the air, a chaotic symphony to drown out the memory of her voice.
He stands in the center of the wreckage, his chest heaving, his knuckles stinging from where they have grazed the wall. Gold and violet paint stain his hands, looking like bruises in the moonlight.
He looks down at the messâthe ruined art, the wasted color. It looks exactly how he feels: a masterpiece that has been ripped to shreds before it is ever finished.
He sinks to his knees, staring at his phone where it lies face-down on the rug. He is the God of the Sea, but he is drowning in a memory you don't even remember having.
The destruction in the studio falls silent, leaving only the sound of Rafayelâs jagged breathing and the slow drip of spilled linseed oil hitting the floor. The rage has burned out as quickly as it ignited, leaving behind a cold, hollow exhaustion.
He stays on his knees, his fingers twitching toward a shard of a broken vase. He doesn't pick it up. Instead, his gaze drifts to a canvas that has survived the carnageâan old, unfinished sketch of her.
His phone vibrates.
The sound is small, but in the wreckage of the room, it feels like a lightning strike. He lunges for it, his heart hammering against his ribs so hard it is painful. His thumb smears a streak of crimson paint across the screen as he swipes it open.
It isn't a reply to his messages. It is a notification from a social media platformâa "Memory" from exactly one year ago.
He taps it. It is a candid photo he took of her when she wasn't looking. She is standing by the ocean, her hair caught in the wind, looking back at him with a smile so bright it makes his throat ache. Beneath the photo, he had typed a caption he never ended up posting: âEven if the tides change, the sea always finds its way back to the shore.â
Rafayel stares at the image until his vision blurs. The woman in the dream hated him. You who occupy her body now don't know him. But the woman in this photoâshe loved him.
He realizes then that he can't break enough things to make the pain stop. Thereâs no way out.
He slowly stands up, stepping over the piles of ruined pigments and splintered wood. He reaches for a fresh, untouched canvas leaning against the far wall and drags it to the center of the room. He doesn't bother cleaning the mess. He doesn't even wash the stains from his hands.
He picks up a wide brush, dips it directly into a pool of deep, oceanic blue that has spilled onto the floor, and strikes the canvas with a single, defiant line.
If she has forgotten him, he will paint her a world she can't help but remember. If she told him never to look for her, he will simply make himself impossible to ignore.
"I don't care if you're a different soul," he whispers, his voice steady for the first time that night. "I'll make you fall in love with me all over again. Even if I have to do it a thousand times."
The sun begins to bleed over the horizon, catching the gold leaf on his fingers as he paints. He isn't just a god in a wreck; he is a creator. And he isn't done with your story yet.
As the brush moves, he hears the faint chime of the studioâs security code being entered. The salt air outside rushes in, and he doesn't even need to turn around to know you are there.
Oof Rafayel đ I promise part 5 is going to be for youâwell, mostly but still đ
I did kiss the brick before throwing it đââď¸đ§ą
Inspired by a line Sylus says in the cafe: "I'm going to sleep some more today since I stayed up longer than usual these last few days." It really just fully possessed me lol
Title from "Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter
SMUT BELOW THE CUT
Warnings: smut, established relationship, kissing, swearing, explicit consent, slight somnophilia, sleepy sex, riding, grinding, slight cockwarming, sleepiness, cuddling, praise kink, slight scratching, female genitalia but no specified gender, sex toys, masturbation, creampie
Word Count: 2,485
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You tried to wait. Tried to distract yourself or, hell, even tried to deal with it yourself. But no matter how you try, you just can't satisfy your desires like he can.
You feel a bit ashamed, creeping through Sylus's bedroom door while he's fast asleep. He was absolutely exhausted when he got back home. Tired enough only to leave you with a quick kiss and a "Have a good day, sweetie," before he trudged off to take a quick shower and pass out. Tired enough that you feel absolutely guilty slinking over to the bed and sitting beside him.
He's sleeping on his stomach. He usually does when you're not in his arms. Cradling the pillow under his head, at ease with his back exposed, yet on guard with his hands inches from his gun.
He looks peaceful. His back rises and falls with each breath. Shoulder blades shifting as his chest expands and relaxes. His biceps are flexed from the position of his arms, taught and enticing. And his face: lashes brushing his sharp cheekbones, brow relaxed, lips slightly parted. You can't resist carefully brushing aside his bangs to get a better look. He's beautiful. Ethereal.
You need him. The ache in your belly grows restless. The overwhelming wetness in your panties yearning to be properly taken care of.
You're still trying to work up the courage to nudge his shoulder when he sighs long and drawn out through his nose.
"What is it, sweetie?" he mumbles. His words, slurred and rough with exhaustion.
You bite your lip. He sounds so tired. You really should just leave him be.
Hearing only your restrained silence, he slowly blinks an eye open to squint up at you. The peaceful line of his brow turns into a frown as concern has him turning onto his side to see you better. "What's wrong?"
You shake your head. "It's nothing. I'm sorry for waking you."
"'S fine," he slurs. He reaches out for you, finding your hip and rubbing it soothingly. "What d'you need, kitten? You wouldn't come in here just t'watch me sleep."
"Maybe I did," you tease. "You're so pretty - maybe I wanted to admire you at your most vulnerable."
A sleepy smirk tugs his lips. He closes his eyes for a moment to fight off the burn of sleep, then looks up at you again. "It's a sight only you're permitted to see."
"I know. It's very valuable to me."
"But it's not why you're here."
You sigh. He's not going to let you slip free this time.
You shake your head and run your fingers through his hair. He hums at the lovely feeling of your nails dragging along his scalp, playing with his still slightly-damp hair, petting him like he's your pet. He naturally angles his head for more, leaning into your hand and brushing a kiss to your wrist. "I'm..." You sigh again, fully relenting to the situation. "Unbearably horny."
He chuckles, then laughs. It's cute and boyish, and he brushes his lips over your wrist again like an apology.
"I tried dealing with it myself, but you just- I don't know. You... know my body better."
"I'm flattered," he hums. "But I don't know how much... assistance I can provide right now."
"I know. Which is why I was trying to get out of saying it in the first place."
He shakes his head slightly, nuzzling his nose against your pulse. "I'm glad you came to me. I... like that you trust me with this." He hesitates, like the words are strange in his mouth to say. Maybe it is. You've noticed how often he struggles to be vulnerable sometimes, even with you. You can't blame him, either; you have no idea the life he led before you.
He breathes in the fragrance of your skin. Traces his lips over your pulse, seeking the thrum of your heart beneath. And then he turns over onto his back. Even in his tired state, he doesn't seem to struggle at all to pull you up by your waist to settle you onto his lap. And damn, you wish you could memorialize the way he looks up at you: eyes heavy and dark, lips so soft and sleepy as he smirks, hair tousled and messy.
"Use me."
You blink down at him. "Excuse me?"
He chuckles. His thumbs tuck under your shirt to run along the waistband of your pants. You shiver. An electrified thrill runs up your spine.
"You need me to satisfy your desires. Well, I'm offering my body to your needs, kitten. You can use me for as long as you need to."
Saliva pools under your tongue at the offer. You swallow it down, willing your fingers not to tremble as you rest them against his chest. "Are you sure?"
He nods. "Absolutely."
"You're not too tired?"
A hum, and a shrug. "If I fall asleep, you can keep going," he says. "I can't leave my poor kitten wanting."
God, the permission he just granted you makes you instinctively try to press your thighs shut. All you succeed in doing is squeezing his hips. He grins, so pleased with himself for having such a strong impact on you.
You lean down over him to press a light kiss to his lips. It's slow and sweet. The passion is there, thrumming under the thick blanket of sleep. "You can always tell me to stop," you murmur against his mouth. "I don't wanna take advantage of you."
He nods. Lips part to lick at the seam of your mouth, welcoming the taste of you to his senses. His large hands squeeze your hips, silently telling you just how much he desires you, too. He guides you, in no rush or urgency, until your clothed cunt rests right over the bulge under the thin blanket. Even through the layers of clothing, it's addicting to feel the effect you have on him. His cock growing hard just for you.
You rock steadily against him. Grind your hips down against his. He groans softly into your mouth. His breath seems to shudder, like he feels everything twice as much as usual now that he's inebriated with exhaustion.
His hips rise just barely to match your pace. You feel his cock harden more and more, pressing insistently against you, begging for you to take what you want for yourself.
You press your tongue into his mouth. He welcomes your dominance, sucking on your tongue and meeting it with his own. He tastes like his toothpaste, from brushing his teeth before he went to bed. The fresh chill of mint counterbalancing the heat of your kiss.
When you pull away, your teeth catch his lip and tug. He breathes a sigh of your name, mumbled out as he eagerly cracks open his eyes to see what you'll do to him next.
You sit up and shift yourself down onto his thighs. He watches, enraptured, as you pull the blanket down to reveal his sleep pants. Dragging your hands down his stomach, his belly pulls in with a sharp breath of air. You look up at his face as you grab his waistband. His face is all flushed. Cheeks burning a beautiful pink, up to the tips of his ears.
You draw the fabric down torturously. Slowly, slowly over the curve of his cock, straining to be free, pressing eagerly up against his boxer briefs. He lifts his hips up slightly to let you pull them down over his ass.
You're so tempted to suck him off through his underwear. Tease the impression of his cockhead with your tongue through cotton, licking a wet spot overtop a precum stain.
But you're just too damn needy. Too fucking desperate to have him fill you like no toy possibly could. He's utterly ruined you with his cock. An addiction only he can provide, a withdrawal only he can satiate.
You drag your nails along the lines of his hips. His head falls back into the pillow. Adam's apple bobs with a low groan and a swallow. He bites his lip when you finally drag his underwear down and his cock springs free. It slaps up against his stomach, twitching and beautiful. You think of licking up the vein running along the underside. Sucking at the tip and licking at the drooling slit.
But your pussy throbs with urgent desire. Gushes with unbridled arousal. You lift yourself off of him and his hands move on autopilot to help you remove your pants and panties.
He lifts his head to watch in a daze as he draws his fingers through your slit, parting your lips to expose the pretty threads of slick he gathers on his fingertips. He raises them to his mouth, licking at the glistening wetness. Sucks his fingers into his mouth with a delirious moan at how delicious you taste.
"So wet..." he breathes. "How long did you play with yourself for, sweetie?"
You whine at the reminder, embarrassed. "An hour, at least," you gripe. Too damn long, that's for sure. Fingering yourself, grabbing different vibrators and turning them to all different settings, various dildos. Nothing could satisfy the hunger. If anything ever did bring you near the edge, it was never enough to push you over. The second your breath would hitch and mind would get light, it went away, waiting for you to chase after it again and again.
He groans around his fingers at the thought. You, trying so hard not to bother him. Trying so hard to take care of yourself alone. Only to come crawling to him. It certainly boosts his ego. But, really, what could be more arousing than knowing your partner desires you so much?
You straddle his hips again, laying your parted folds along the length of his dick. You grind him like that, stroking him along your pussy, soaking his cock with your wetness. His fingers dig loosely into your hip, his other hand falling from his mouth to hold onto the pillow underneath his head.
Before long, you can wait no longer. You lift yourself up and he watches, so fucking pretty, as you line his cock up to your entrance. Your cunt accepts him so readily, already well prepared by your desperate ministrations from before. He glides so deep into you, stretching you open so perfectly, curving along your walls like he was molded to fit there. He gasps your name again, like a breathless prayer. Brow furrowed, mouth hanging open, eyes fixed on where your bodies are joined.
It's exactly everything you needed. His blunt tip nudging at your cervix. The heat of his body. The feeling of him twitching against you already, leaking precum deep inside your cunt. You moan, rolling your hips to grind your clit against his pubic bone and the pretty mess of pale hairs that decorate the base of his cock.
"Fuck," he sighs, rolling his hips lazily to match you. They don't quite time up, but it feels too good to even think of complaining.
"You're so perfect, Sy," you moan. Lift your hips and drop them right back down. The clap of skin, the slam of his cock, hitches your breath. "Mnh, so- fuck! So perfect."
The praise goes straight to his head. It always does. You love when he's making love to you, hunched over you as he rolls his hips to perfectly angle himself in all the ways that make you cry out his name. When you can whisper in his ear all the sweet things he's never gotten to hear before. About how beautiful he is. How gentle he can be. How you love having him so close, feeling all his skin against yours. How good he smells with his fancy colognes. How you adore all the sounds he makes, his grunts and groans and the sharp hiss of air through his teeth when you squeeze around him or bite his neck; the rare occasions he honest to god whimpers for you, whining about how good you feel around him, how gorgeous you are, how he's so desperate to fill you up. And right now, the praise is even more effective, as his sleep-addled mind takes it in deep, without the knee-jerk reaction of feeling like he doesn't deserve it.
He lets his head fall back. Eyes slip shut. Mouth parted around the syllables of your name, whispered like a declaration of love in the wee hours of morning, when everything is so hushed yet so profound. His fingers tighten around the corner of the pillow. Back arches, seeking out more of your attention, drowning in what you're already giving him.
You plant your hands on his chest for support. Drag your nails down his abs as your hour of foreplay creeps up on you. Your arousal has already soaked his pelvis and inner thigh, even the prominent veins that travel from his navel down to his cock. Each bounce is accentuated with the slick, wet sound. It drives you wild. Picks up your pace. Goes to your head until you're riding him like you're possessed.
"F-Feels s'good~! Mnh, needed you s'bad. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck, m'gonna-"
"Cum, baby," he whines, grabbing at your thigh with his free hand, squeezing the plush meat so hard it'll bruise. "Cum f'me, please, kitten."
Hearing his sleep roughened voice so high pitched and broken, begging. You don't stand a chance to last a second more.
You cry out his name. Grind yourself down on his cock as your walls clench so tight around him, swollen clit dragging along his skin. His hips lift slightly, barely at all. His cock twitches, cum flooding your cunt in hot spurts, filling you more and more until it spills out around him, dripping onto his thighs.
You slow to a stop, body trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. It takes you a second to breathe again. A minute more before you can open your eyes. You seek out Sylus's face through the daze and have to fight the giggle that bubbles up your throat.
His eyes are shut but his brow is relaxed. Mouth parted around even breaths, chest rising and falling slowly. His fingers have released the pillow. Eased up on your thigh.
Fast asleep.
You can't help admiring him for a bit. The slight glisten of sweat on his skin, his bangs sticking to his forehead. The slight shake to his breaths, still affected by his orgasm. You can even hear the faintest snore.
"My pretty baby," you coo in a whisper. You carefully lean down, laying your body overtop his, mindful not to wake him up again or let him slip out. You press a faint kiss at the corner of his mouth, then the bridge of his nose, and his chin, before tucking your face into his neck. "Sweet dreams, Sy."
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4 | Part 4.3
Warning Tags: 3sum (mentioned)
Please read from first part to fully enjoy the series đ
The rebels are dead. It is the only possible conclusion for those foolish enough to defy the man who shapes the Zone with his own two hands. Task complete, and Sylus retreats to his sanctuary. He runs a bath, the steam rising to meet the vaulted ceilings, then drapes himself in heavy, liquid satinâthe only texture suited for his draconic tastes.
He pours two glasses of wine. One for him, and one that remains untouched, its dark surface a mirror for his solitude. He swirls the vintage, his mind drifting toward you.
Miles away, Mephisto perches on the railing of your balcony. Your curtains are wide, the moonlight spilling into an empty room. No lights. No sign of life. A low sigh of disappointment escapes Sylusâs lipsâuntil the feed from the crow begins to leak sound.
A moan. Shallow, breathless, and unmistakable.
Sylusâs eyes widen, his grip tightening on the crystal stem of his glass. He searches through the crowâs eyes, scanning your room, but it is empty. The sound is coming from somewhere else.
Xavier. He lives right above you.
"Mephisto," Sylus commands, his voice a low, chilling vibrationâstretched thin over a tide of violence that threatened to break loose.
The crow takes flight, soaring upward to the balcony directly above yours.
The sight hits him like a physical blow: you are pinned between two men, lost in a haze of pleasure, eyes rolled back and breath hitching in a rhythm that isn't for him.
Suddenly, the feedback screeches and cuts to static. Sylus notices the feed isn't just broken; it is fractured, the edges of the image turning white and crystalline.
Freezing.
An explosion rocks the estate, the sound echoing like a thunderclap through the halls. Luke and Kieran run, their boots heavy against the floor as they race toward Sylusâs private chambers.
They find the door mangled, hanging off its hinges by a single screw. Inside, the room is a wasteland. Paintings on the walls are shredded into confetti; the fine fabrics of the furniture charred black. In the center of the wreckage stands Sylus, anchored in a whirling storm of red and black energy.
He turns his head toward the twins. Even in the pitch darkness, his right eye burns with a lethal, crimson glow. Luke and Kieran donât wait for an order; they scramble back, fleeing the immediate vicinity of his rage.
Sylus looks down at his hand. He is clutching the remains of his wine glass so tightly the shards have buried themselves in his palm. Dark wine mingles with his own blood, dripping onto the floor in a steady, rhythmic tap-tap-tap.
In all his long, immortal life, he has never felt such a visceral, sickening urge to slaughter. To tear the life from puny, insignificant humans until there is nothing left but silence.
The storm around him dies down. He opens his hand, letting the bloody shards clatter to the floor as his Evol knits the gashes in his skin back together in seconds.
He has to endure. He has waited thousands of years since you first left him. Now, you are finally here again, your soul a tapestry of ancient threads and new bonds. He knows from the start that you donât belong solely to himâthe threads of fate are too tangled for that.
He knows. But the sting of the glass in his palm is nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest. He can only watch, once again, as you slip through his fingers.
A ghost of a smile haunts his lips. He will let you wander, but he will never let you go.
Ooh Iâm loving the part where Zayne noticed and froze Mephisto. (Donât worry the crowâs okay haha) I just feel like thereâs so little interaction between them during game, except for Zayne and Caleb.
Sorry ppl Iâm still angry for Nightplumes donât throw bricks at me đđđ
They have to do something to make you stay⌠âď¸âď¸
Warning Tags (For this part only): NSFW, MDNI, explicit content, marking, biting, size difference, use of medical equipment, dubcon to consent, p in v and a, 3sum, temperature play, (WC: 3.1K)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 coming soon
Author Note: please read from part 1 to fully enjoy the latest series đ
You brows furrow as you shake your head, your voice a fractured whisper. âXavier, Zayne... you need to have someone who belongs to you only. And Iââ
A knot tightens in your throat, choking the words. Your breath hitches, coming in shallow, uneven stabs as the memory of yesterday claws at your composure. You drop your gaze, drowning in the weight of a secret you can't voice.
I already slept with two men. The confession dies behind your teeth. You canât bring yourself to shatter the sincerity in their eyes, not when theyâre looking at you with such unwavering devotion.
You didnât mean to choose Caleb or Sylusâor both of themâor anyone for that matter. No matter how much you love them, in this world, they have real lives; they aren't just characters from a game. Their pain and their tears are real. Worst of all, you are living in their loverâs body. Every time they hold you, a voice in your head screams that theyâre just waiting for her to come back.
âIâll tell you what,â Xavierâs voice cuts through the spiral of your thoughts. He leans in, closing the gap until his breath warm against your ear. âI wonât force you if you donât want us. All we ask is that you let us try, and if you still donât want us... weâll stop.â
You hesitate. You look up quickly, opening your mouth to voice a final rejection, but the sight of his eyes stops you. They look so transparent, so fragileâas if heâs already tasted the bitterness of your rejection. That thin, fragile smile of his makes your heart ache with a guilt so sharp it feels like a physical wound. You exhale a long, heavy breath, trying to steady your racing heart before you find the strength to speak.
âIf I want to stop, you wonât force me?â You search their faces. Both men nod in unison. You give a slow, dazed tilt of your head. Xavierâs face transforms, light flooding his features instantly.
It was a trap, woven in silence. They didn't need words to agree on the huntâa coordinated effort to pry your heart open, bit by bit, before finally capturing you and keeping you all for themselves, if such a thing is possible.
When Xavier finally captures your lips, the world outside the room ceases to exist. It isnât just a kiss; itâs a collision, carrying the weight of a thousand years of waiting. A stray tear escapes your cheek. He isn't just kissing you; he is pleading with his whole soul for you to stay.
The dress pools on the floor, discarded and forgotten. When Xavier sees the dark bruises and bites marking your skinâviolent reminders of the previous nightâyou instinctively try to shield yourself, burning with a searing mix of guilt and shame. He stills, a flash of regret crossing his face for not intervening sooner.
He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you the short distance to his bed, his movements steady and sure. Zayne follows behind like a shadow, silent and inevitable, taking a seat by the window.
Xavierâs arms lock on either side of your head, muscles taut. A fine tremor takes hold of your limbs as the reality of being pinned sinks in. He simply looks at you with a quiet certaintyâa look that says he has finally found what he was searching for. Beneath him, you feel small, caught between the furnace of his body and the cold, clinical focus of Zayne watching from the dark.
âBehind her ears.â
Zayneâs voice is a sharp blade in the quiet. Cold, precise, and devastatingly right. You wonder how many nights she spent with him for him to remember the bodyâs sensitive maps so clearly. Xavier leans in, his breath a humid heat against your skin before his tongue traces the curve behind your ear with agonizing, wet slowness.
âHa-ahâŚ!â Your eyes fly shut as the spark crawls down your spine.
âStarlight, look at me, please?â Xavier pleads. You fight the weight of your eyelids, forcing them open even as your breath comes in jagged hitches. âGood. Donât close them. I want to see you feel this.â
âThe nipples. Donât bite, just lick them slowly.â The command from the shadows makes your heart hammer against your ribs. Xavierâs hand moves to your chest, still covered by the thin lace of your bra. His tongue traced from the bottom of your chest to your nipple in agonizingly slow movement. The friction of the wet lace against your hypersensitive skin draws a broken moan from your throat.
âYouâre right. Sheâs enjoying this,â Xavier murmurs, an innocent smile ghosting his lips. With a deft snap, he bared your chest to the cool air. His expression falls for a moment as he traces the marks from yesterday with his lips, grazing them so gently it makes your skin crawl with heat. âDoes it still hurt?â
âNo... not anymoreâah!â He takes you into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the pebbled tip, sucking deep. The sensation is electric; a localized fire that shoots straight to your loins, making your hips buck against the mattress.
Zayne remains a silent statue in the corner, dissecting every flinch as if he is conducting a clinical experiment. It makes you tremble; the sheer weight of his gaze makes you feel swollen and desperate.
âEyes on me, baby.â Xavier nips at you, his fingers firm on your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. A flash of possessive jealousy breaks through his gentle facade. Itâs overwhelmingâto be the focus of a knightâs desperate love and a doctorâs calculating desire. You feel cherished and hunted all at once.
âHer left waist.â
Xavier obeys the command instantly, his tongue trailing down to mark the skin with a deep, wet blossom.
âXavier, ahâŚ! PleaseâŚ!â Your back arches, reaching a breaking point. You feel an animalistic urge to flee, to escape the sheer intensity of the pleasure, but his body is a wall of heat and muscle that leaves no room for retreat.
âThe right inner thigh.â
âWaitâZayne, noâŚ!â You cry out as Xavierâs teeth graze your inner thigh, right at the edge of your soaked panties. Xavier inhales the heavy aroma of your arousal and lets out a shaky sigh, his tongue beginning to work through the lace. âHahâstopâŚ!â
âDo you want me to stop?â Xavier stills, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you. His low tone vibrates against your skin. Behind the heat in his eyes lies a look of silent, heavy longing that demands the truth.
Your mind screams for safety, for the logic that would save all of you from this shared pain, but your body betrays you.
âNo... donât stop.â The words feel like a surrender. Your legs fall open wider of their own accord.
He strips the lace away and cradles your legs. You cry out into the quiet room as he begins to taste you, his tongue slow and methodical. You glance at Zayne. He hasn't moved. Does this not bother him? He sits with the terrifying calm of a surgeon deciding a patient's fate.
Xavier sheds his clothes with a frantic grace, his breath hitching as he reveals his thick, throbbing length. He enters you in one smooth, forceful motion. A low, guttural grunt escaping him as your heat welcome him home. The pace starts with a deceptive sweetness, grounding himself in your warmth. You arch your back, your fingers digging into the silk.
But the "gentle" knight is gone. His grip on your hips tightens until his knuckles turn white. The pace shifts, turning merciless. He drives into you with a punishing rhythm, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing with your desperate, high-pitched screams. You are a mess of tangled limbs and sweat as he relentlessly hunts for your peak.
âWait, XaviâIâm almostââ
The tension snaps before you can finish. Your internal muscles contract violently as you scream, a long climax crashes over you.
âStarlight, donât clench too hardâguhâŚ! HaahâŚ.!â Caught in the wake of your release, Xavier delivers several deep, devastating thrusts. He groans, forehead resting against yours as he pumps his warm seed deep inside you, filling you completely.
As the tremors subside, he captures your lips in a kiss that tastes of salt and desperation. While youâre still gasping, he shifts, his lips finding the soft, untouched skin of your nape.
He bites.
âAh!â It is a single, precise, deep markâa claim laid on the only spot the others hadn't touched. He marks you where the light hits, a permanent reminder that even when you are covered in the traces of other men, he found the one piece of you that was still vacant.
Your eyes meet Zayne's across the room, still sitting in that chair, legs crossed. Xavier took your body, but Zayne is currently dissecting your soul.
âZayneâŚâ you whimper, your voice trembling as you finally find the strength to turn your head.
âYes, My Love?â he answers, his voice steady enough to drive you to the edge of madness.
âAre youâare you fine staying there? Just watching?â
âIs this an invitation?â His tone sharpens slightly, the first crack in the clinical ice. You can hear his breathing nowâitâs no longer steady; itâs heavy and rhythmic, a mirror to the desire heâs been suppressing. âLike he said before, I wonât force you.â
It is a lie. Heâs holding back because he is a man of pride, starving for you to call him over.
âDo you want me to come over there?â Zayneâs voice dropping an octave, thick with a need he can no longer hide. You know exactly what happens if you answer. Thereâs no turning back now that Xavier has already laid his claim. Your hand reaches out toward him, his eyes widen slightly. His own hand twitches, almost reaching out to catch yours before he remembers the iron-clad control he usually imposes on himself.
âPlease... come here, Zayne.â
Xavierâs chest heave against yours as he takes a sharp, jagged breath. A low, barely audible vibration rumbles in his throatâan instinctive, uncomfortable reaction to hearing you call for another man while wrapped in his arms. He tightens his hold, possessiveness flaring even as he prepares to share the space.
Zayne could have jumped at you, but he doesn't. He stands and begins a slow, measured walk toward the bed, moving with the heavy, calculated grace of a predator watching his prey finally, willingly, surrender.
âSince weâre sharing,â Zayne says, his voice cutting through the haze of your climax, âI want you to change positions.â
At his command, Xavier shifts to his back. Zayne maneuvers you until youâre on all four above Xavier, facing away from the windowâexposing your back and your most intimate vulnerabilities to Zayneâs unwavering stare.
âOpen your legs,â Zayne commands.
He tracks the way Xavierâs seed and your arousal leak from you. From his pocket, he produces a pair of medical gloves. The snap of the latex against his wrist sounds like a gunshot in the quiet room. He gathers the spilled moisture with his gloved fingers, grazing your most sensitive spots with an intentional, clinical friction draws a sharp, broken moan. He then slides a finger back into your entrance to collect more, making you moan at the strange, slick friction of the rubber.
Before you can catch your breath, Zayneâs hand shines with his Evol. When he turns back, his fingers are clutching a jagged shard of ice glints in the dim light.
âYouâre burning up,â he murmurs.
You gasp as he presses the ice directly against a dark purple bite mark on your collarboneâone Sylus had left. The shock is violent against your feverish skin. He trails the melting cube down the center of your chest, following the path Xavierâs tongue just took. The freezing water drips into your navel, making your stomach muscles coil and jump.
âZ-Zayne⌠itâs too coldâŚ!â
âContrast is a powerful teacher,â he replies, his eyes tracking the way your nipples harden as he circles them with the ice. He leans down, catching a stray drop of freezing water with his tongue before blowing a breath of cool air over your wet skin. You shiver violently, caught between the furnace of Xavier beneath you and the literal frost of Zayne above.
He moves the shard lower, pressing it against your inner thigh. The ice melts rapidly against your heat. Just cold becomes unbearable, he replaces it with his searingly hot mouth, the sudden shift in temperature sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core.
âZayneâŚ!â Your fingers curl into Xavierâs shoulders, and you look down at him with a gaze full of apology. He only smiles back a complicated, heartbreaking expression. You can no longer focus on the guilt; the sensation of the glove is all-consuming.
âBreathe, My Love.â
His hand shifts. You feel the sudden, startling press of a wet, gloved finger against your tight opening. Your breath hitches. Itâs an entirely different sensationâtighter, more sensitive, and completely unprimed.
âWaitâitâs dirtyâZayneâŚ!â You reach back, your hands moving instinctively to stop him.
Zayne freezes. The contrast between this and the raw, unbridled chaos of Caleb and Sylus is staggering. Zayne doesn't force; he waits, his gaze burning into the back of your neck.
âStay still. If you tense up, youâll only make this harder for yourself.â He glances at Xavier beneath you.
Xavier reaches up and catches your hands, gently but firmly pulling your torso down until your chest is pressed against his. His eyes are filled with a flickering, soft sadness. A tear escapes your eye and rolls onto his cheek; he misinterprets it as a sob of pain and strokes your back, his touch a soothing balm against the clinical intrusion from behind.
âItâs okay, Starlight. Youâll be fine.â
âIâm going to use another finger,â Zayne announces. His voice is flat, devoid of passion, sounding more like he is examining a patient.
As a second finger enters, the pressure increases significantly. The muscle is stubborn, unaccustomed to being opened. You squirm, a whimper of genuine discomfort escaping you. âWaitâit... it hurts...â
He stops again. This time, he withdraws his fingers completely. He leans in close, using his thumbs to gently part the skin, examining the exterior for any sign of a tear. His warm breath brushes against the opening, causing the muscle to pulse. Your breath hitches, your body going taut with nerves.
âYouâre too tense,â Zayne murmurs, his tone softening. He reaches for a bottle of thick, medical-grade lubricant. âIâm going to use more. Xavier, keep her grounded.â
Xavier begins to kiss your neck, his tongue swirling over your pulse to distract you while Zayne begins the methodical process of dilation. He uses his thumb to massage the outer ring in slow, rhythmic circles, forcing the muscles to surrender.
Slowly, the first finger slides back in. The lubricant is cold against your internal heat, creating a jarring, icy-hot sensation that makes you gasp. A second finger follows. Zayne doesn't rush. He waits for your body to accept the intrusion, moving his fingers in a slow âVâ shape to stretch the walls. The feeling is overwhelmingâa heavy, full ache that makes your toes curl.
âDeep breaths. Match your breathing to Xavierâs,â You try, but the clinical expansion is too much; your senses fray. He adds a third finger, his knuckles grazing your skin. The stretching is intense, bordering on a strange kind of pleasure that makes your head light. âGood. Youâre opening up beautifully for me.â
By the time he withdraws his hand, you are a panting, shivering mess, your body completely primed. He strips the glove off, the snap echoing like finality.
âYouâre ready,â Zayne says, and the clinical ice in his voice shatters, replaced by a raw, starving hunger.
The air is thick, charged with the scent of Xavierâs release and the sharp, sterile tension radiating from Zayne. You are suspended between themâpressed against Xavierâs warm chest while Zayne looms behind you, his presence a heavy, invisible weight against your back. You turn your head back and forth between them, your mind reeling at the fact that thisâthis impossible unionâis actually happening.
The silence stretches, broken only by your shallow, ragged hitches of breath. You shut your eyes tight, trying to block out the overwhelming senses.
âLook at him, Starlight.â Xavierâs voice is a soft command. His fingers gently catching your chin and tilts your head back so you are forced to look at Zayne.
Zayne stands at the edge of the bed, his shirt discarded, chest heaving with a restraint. His eyes are fixed on the mess of moisture and the rhythmic pulsing of the skin he just finished preparing.
âYouâre trembling,â Zayne observes. It isn't a question. He reaches out, his bare hand resting heavily on the small of your back. The sudden contact of his cool fingers against your feverish skin makes you jump. âIs it fear, or is it the anticipation?â
âI... I don't know,â you whisper.
âItâs both,â Zayne answers. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. âYouâre terrified because youâve never been opened like this, and youâre desperate because you know Iâm the only one who can do it correctly.â
The whisper makes your limbs feel feel like water. You never knew he could be this predatory.
âZayne...â Xavier warns softly, a low growl of possessive impatience. âDonât tease her. Sheâs already at her limit.â
Zayneâs hand slides from your back to your hip, his thumb digging into the bone. âIâm not teasing. Iâm making sure she understands. Once I start, I won't stop.â
You swallow hard, looking into Zayneâs eyes. The clinical mask is gone. In its place is a raw, dark hunger that makes your stomach flip.
âDo you want this?â Zayne asks, his voice dropping to a gravelly, dangerous octave. âI need to hear you say it. I need to know you're choosing thisâchoosing meâover your own fear.â
You look down at Xavier, who is watching you with a gaze of absolute devotion, then back at Zayne, whose hand is now moving to guide his thick, aching length toward you.
ââŚPlease,â you gasp, the word feeling like the final surrender of your soul. You aren't just asking for the pleasure; you are asking him to take the choice away from you, to claim you so thoroughly that you don't have to think anymore. âI want... I want you, Zayne. Please, just... do it.â
A dark, triumphant smirk flickers across Zayneâs lips.
âGood girl,â he murmurs, and your core clamps tight at the praise. His grip on your hips tightening into a bruising hold. âXavier, anchor her. Iâm not going to be gentle.â
The first contact is a shock of pure, unadulterated pressure. Zayne doesn't slide in with the deceptive sweetness Xavier used; he enters with a slow, heavy finality that feels like he is claiming your very spine. You move instinctively with him, arching your back as he pushes deeper.
âHahâ! Zayne, waitâ!â You gasp, your fingers clutching Xavierâs shoulders so hard your nails dig into his skin. You look at Xavier, he is in a daze, his eyes dark as he watches you; oblivious to the pain.
âBreathe,â Zayne commands. He doesn't pull back. Instead, he places his large hands flat against your shoulder blades, pinning you down against Xavier. âLook at him.â
Xavier reaches up, tangling his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back so he can kiss the tears pricking your eyes.
âIâve got you, Starlight,â Xavier whispers. âJust focus on me.â
Zayne begins to moveâa rhythmic, devastatingly deep pace that hits every nerve he spent the last twenty minutes priming. Every time he drives forward, you feel the weight of him all the way to your stomach. Itâs a full, stretching ache that quickly begins to transmute into a dark, pulsing pleasure.
âYouâre taking all of me,â Zayne murmurs, his composure fraying. His breaths are harsh, jagged hitches now, perfectly synchronized with the rhythm of your screams. âLook at how youâre stretching for me, Y/N. Even after everything they did to you... you were saved for this.â
Zayne buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing the spot Xavier had just marked. Heâs no longer observing; heâs drowning in you.
Xavier isn't just a spectator, either. He uses his hands to stimulate your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples in perfect sync with Zayneâs thrusts. The sensory overload makes your brain go white.
âZayne⌠I-IâmâŚ!â
âDon't hold back,â Zayne growls, his pace becoming faster, more desperate. âShow me exactly what weâve done to you.â
You finally shatter. The climax radiates from where Zayne is buried inside you, melting your bones. Your muscles clamp around him in a frantic pulse.
Zayne lets out a deep, ragged groan, his body tensing as he delivers a final, punishing thrust. He stays buried deep, his forehead resting against your back as he pours himself into you, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your skin. Xavierâs arms wrapped around you in a protective cocoon.
The silence that follows is heavy, warm, and absolute. Your senses are overloadedâyou can feel the slickness of your skin where your sweat has mixed with theirs, the salt stinging your eyes, and your vision blurring into a soft, hazy mess.
Zayne doesnât wait for you to recover. While you are still reeling from the stretching heat of his entry, he hooks his arms under your thighs and stands, lifting your entire weight off the mattress while remaining buried deep inside you.
âHahâ! Zayne!â You gasp, your arms flailing until they lock around his neck. The change in gravity makes him sink even deeper, bottoming out against a wall of pleasure you didn't know existed.
âXavier,â Zayne commands.
Xavier moves to the edge of the bed, standing directly in front of you. You look down, your eyes wide as you watch himâalready thick and aching again, eyes dark with hunger that hasn't been satisfied. You are suspended in the air, a bridge of flesh between the two men who have systematically dismantled your resolve.
âIâve got you, Starlight,â Xavier whispers. He reaches out, his hands steadying your hips as he aligns himself.
The air is punched out of your lungs. The sensation of being filled from both sides is a physical shock that short-circuits your brain. You are stretched to the absolute limit, your breath catching in a silent scream as they begin to move in a coordinated, devastating rhythm.
âUh⌠haâahâŚâ Your voice has dissolved into unintelligible sounds. Your eyes roll back, tears streaming down your face from the sheer overwhelm of it all. Your entire body is vibrating with a frequency you can't control.
Zayne holds you with a terrifying stability, thrusting upward, while Xavier drives into you from the front. You are caught in a pincer move of heat and friction, your internal walls screaming as they are forced to accommodate both of them.
âLook at her,â Zayne pants into your ear, his composure finally, truly breaking. âLook at how sheâs taking us both. She was made for this.â
âI know,â Xavier groans, his forehead leaning against yours, his sweat dripping onto your cheeks. âYouâre beautiful, Starlight.â
The world becomes a blurred haze of skin, the scent of sex, and the rhythmic, wet slap of their bodies against yours. You canât think; you canât even find the air to moan. You can only cling to Zayneâs neck and Xavierâs shoulders, a small, fragile thing being worshiped and wrecked simultaneously by two forces of nature.
The pleasure is so violent it feels like a physical transformation. When the climax finally hits, itâs an explosion. Your body jolts, your muscles seizing around them both in a desperate, rhythmic clench that draws a wrecked sound from Zayne and a broken sob of release from Xavier.
They don't let you go. Even as the room stops spinning, Zayne keeps you hoisted against him, and Xavier stays buried deep, their hearts beating in a chaotic, synchronized thrum against your own.
You belong to them. In this moment, there is no game, no "other" body, and no world outside this room. Only the heavy, pulsing reality of being theirs.
The room is silent now, save for the distant, rhythmic sound of water running in the bathroom as Xavier prepares the bath. The frantic heat has cooled into a heavy, salt-sweet air. Zayne sits on the edge of the bed, his movements slow but practical as he uses a damp cloth to wipe the mixed release and sweat from your skin. He treats your body with the same reverence he used during the preparation, but there is a distance in his eyes that wasn't there before.
âZayne,â you whisper, your voice hoarse. You watch his focused expression under the dim light. âHow did you... how did you accept this?â
He doesn't stop his movements. The cloth moves over your hip, gentle and steady.
âDidnât it hurt?â you press on, your heart aching as the guilt from earlier returns. âKnowing about the others? Having to share me with⌠other men?â
Zayne finally stops. He doesn't look at you immediately; his gaze stays fixed on the marks on your thighs. He lets out a breath that sounds like itâs been held for centuries.
âHurt?â He repeats the word as if itâs a foreign concept. He finally looks up, and the look in his eyes is so stripped of everything that it makes your breath hitch. âOf course it hurts, Y/N. I am a man of logic and pride, and there is nothing logical about standing in the shadows while another man claims you.â
He reaches out, his thumb grazing your lower lip.
âBut Iâve spent my life watching things slip through my fingers. Iâve seen what happens when you hold on too tight to the wrong things, and what happens when you let go of the right ones.â He pauses, his voice dropping to a low, devastating whisper. âI would rather share you than have to live in a world where you arenât mine at all. If the price of having a piece of you is having to share the rest... then itâs a price I will pay every single day.â
The honesty in his voice is a sharp, physical blow. It isn't a happy acceptance; it is a desperate, calculated survival. He isn't okay with itâhe is just more afraid of the silence you would leave behind.
As he continued to wipe your skin, the cloth passed over the curve of your thigh and your collarbone. Even in the warmth of the room, those spots remained pale, tinged with a lingering, ghostly chill that wouldnât fade. A soft, blooming rednessâthe kind left by a winter frostâmarred your skin where the ice had sat the longest. It was a silent, cold brand that sat right atop the heat of the bruises, a physical reminder that while the others had burned you, Zayne had frozen time itself just to claim a piece of the wreckage.
You catch your breath at his confession, seeing the vulnerability in his eyesâthe price of your own greed. To stay with them all is to keep them all in pain.
Before you can respond, Xavier returns, his silhouette soft against the light. He doesn't say anything, but the look he shares with Zayne is one of silent understanding. They aren't rivals in this moment; they are two men who have made the same impossible bargain.
Together, they help you to the bathroom. The water in the tub is perfectly warm, smelling of jasmine and cedar. They wash you with a tenderness that feels like an apology, their hands moving over you not with hunger, but with care. As the warmth of the water sinks into your bones, your eyelids grow heavy. The exhaustion of the day, the night, and the emotional turmoil finally catches up to you.
You are barely conscious when Zayne lifts you from the water, wrapping you in a thick, soft towel. Xavier dries your hair with a gentle touch before they carry you back to the bed.
As they tuck the covers around you, Xavier leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. âSleep, Y/N. We arenât going anywhere.â
On your other side, Zayne lingers, his lips brushing against the temple. âGoodnight, Love.â
âXavier, Zayne⌠Iâm sorry for being selfish⌠Iâm sorry for not able to let you goâŚâ you mutter as you drift off, your heart laid bare. They only smile, comforted by the knowledge that you truly want them.
You wake up the next morning feeling far worse than you did the day before. Every limb is a heavy weight of leaden muscle, and the soreness in your core is a constant, throbbing reminder of the night's intensity. You feel foolish for even wanting to complain; after all, this was the result of your own choices. As you open your eyes, the first rays of the sun are just beginning to peek through the curtains.
In front of you, Xavier is still deep in sleep, looking peaceful, almost like a child, his light hair mussed against the pillow. You watch him for a moment, hesitant to wake him. You know that as soon as his eyes open, the reality of his situationâsharing his love with othersâwill come rushing back. You reach out, gently stroking the soft strands of his hair. When your finger brushes against his long lashes, they flutter slightly in his sleep. You can't help but smile at how innocent he looks, though you now know all too well the "beast" that lies beneath that exterior.
Zayne is already gone from the bed. The sheets on his side are cold, suggesting heâs been up for a while. A doctor never fails to be ready for his rounds. You find yourself picturing him in his white coat, stethoscope in hand, his eyes sharp and serious. A sudden, unwanted heat pools in your stomach, and you quickly try to suppress it. Youâve lost it, Y/N. Youâre officially insane.
Gritting your teeth against the ache in your hips, you force yourself out of bed, stifling a whimper as your feet hit the floor. You find your phone and decide to head back to your own apartment immediately before the weight of the morning becomes too much to handle.
Your screen is flooded with notifications. You forgot to extend your work leave.
You quickly fire off a text to Zayne, asking for his help with a medical noteâa perk of having a doctor in your bed, you suppose. Then, you call your supervisor. Your voice is naturally hoarse and ragged from the screaming and the lack of sleep, making your "feverâ excuse incredibly convincing. As you close your apartment door behind you, you let out a long, weary sigh. You have no idea how you're going to keep living this double life.
Determined to ground yourself, you head to the bathroom for some much-needed self-care. You reach for the luxury skincare Sylus had sent overâthe cool, expensive serums feeling like a small mercy on your tired skin. You apply a face mask and sink onto the sofa, finally taking a moment to breathe.
While waiting for the mask to set, you begin scrolling through your messages, clearing the clutter until you find one buried notification.
Sender: đ
3 days ago: Cutie
Hey
Baby
2 days ago: Did you ignore me on purpose
Hey
Donât ignore meeee
âŚ
âŚ
Yesterday: éżčŽŠ (A-Rang)
Your heart stops. Oh noâRafayel!!
You know that feeling when your partner tells you what he will do before he really did it makes youâre twice as sensitive because of the anticipation? Like your brain already prepares that exact spot to be touched, kissed, bitten or ravaged. Like thatâs so hot coming from both of them. Iâm picturing applecrow as feral and snowstar as calm but unyielding.
Thank you for reading! It has been such an exciting adventure of research for me, not knowing very much of the concept but I enjoy every process.
If you want to be tagged on the next part just comment down below đ
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 3.5 | Part 4 coming soon
Read the first part for better understanding of the story đ
Youâre squirming again. Thatâs the third time this morning. Perhaps the weight of being sandwiched between two powerful men makes you feel suffocated, even in the haze of sleep. One heavy arm is draped possessively over your waist; another hand rests firmly on your thigh. Even in their dreams, they are still vying for every inch of you.
Sylus is the first to open his eyes, far earlier than his usual hour. The sight of you sleeping beside him usually settles something warm and primal in his chest, but the feeling is cut short when he notices the other man. His brows furrow, his gaze darkening as he sees Calebâs hand. Even in sleep, Calebâs thumb is tracing slow, rhythmic circles over your inner thigh, a subconscious claim that is clearly disturbing your rest.
With a sharp, silent motion, Sylus slaps Calebâs hand away. He slips out of bed with grace, already pulling up a number on his phone as he steps out of your bedroom to avoid waking you. âI need you to buy something,â he murmurs into the receiver, his voice like gravel. âAnd send it here. Now.â
Caleb is next, jolted awake by the sting on the back of his hand. He instinctively pulls you closer for a moment, but stops when you huff, your brow furrowing in a sleepy protest. He immediately retreats, his breath hitching at the sight of you. You look so peaceful, a stark contrast to the beautiful ruin of your naked bodyâbruised with hickeys and deep, purple bite marks. He tracks the ones he left with a surge of pride, feeling himself harden instantly. But he knows youâve had enough. He quietly gathers his discarded clothes from the floor, dressing in silence before heading to the kitchen.
When their eyes finally meet in the living room, there is a strange, heavy understanding between them. They move around each other with a cold, mutual acknowledgment, proceeding with their morning tasks as if the other doesn't exist.
The peace doesn't last. Caleb is the first to leave, forced out by an emergency call summoning the Colonel back to Skyhaven immediately.
Moments later, another phone rings. The twins arrive at the door, arms laden with the comfort items Sylus ordered, only to inform him of a rebel attack on one of his bases. Sylus sighs, a rare flicker of irritation crossing his face. He sets the items down on the counter right next to Calebâs homemade breakfastâa silent, competitive spark he never expected to feel.
Before leaving, Sylus walks back into the bedroom one last time. He watches you for a long beat, his expression unreadable, before reaching down to fix the blanket, tucking it securely around your shoulders. Only then does he turn away, the front door clicking shut with a final, heavy thud.
I like how they donât actually fight, knowing how it would hurt her if she knows. I love applecrow combo the most hehehe hope you enjoy the small fluff đđŚââŹđ¤đ
older brother best friend suguru x reader (satoru's younger sister)
warning: suguru's obsessed with her, mention of s3x but nothing very very explicit, bf stands for best friend not boyfriend.
first time writing something about suguru, actually, first time writing something that isn't a gojo fic but anyway, here's a little drabble of him.
older brother bf!suguru who has been in love with the younger sister of his best friend since the first time he stepped foot in their house.
older brother bf!suguru who knows he is older than her, 5 years separate the both of them, but that doesnât stop his mind every night to think about her⌠and his hand to go down his groin too.
older brother bf!suguru who canât stop the tent on his pants when he sees her in a tiny bikini when the two families go to the beach for the weekend.
older brother bf!suguru who sits beside her at dinner so he can make her nervous while touching her thigh, brushing her hand while taking the water or passing his arm on the chair back, he just loves to make her nervous so much, watch her blush, squirm under his gaze and the way he tucks her hair behind her ear whenever he whispers.
older brother bf!suguru who stands near the counter of the bar they went to after dinner, jaw clenched while he watches her dance with some slim guy, his hands on her hips and a look he doesnât like a bit. satoru by his side smirks, glass of whatever drink he had ordered in hand while he says the words suguru never thought would hear; âyou know, if i had to choose someone to be her boyfriend, i would rather have you as a brother in law than some loser of a guy.â
older brother bf!suguru who sets his drink on the counter with a goal in mind⌠her. he walks straight to them, the guyâs hands near her ass and it makes his blood boil and the only thing he does is take her wrist and grab her out the bar and to the beach to a secluded area so nobody can see them.
older brother bf!suguru who doesn't wait any longer to grab her waist and kiss her and God saved him right there if he wasn't intoxicated by the feel and taste of her lips. her hands grab his hair, taking the bun off and let it fall down like a curtain, and he moans, moans like a pervert when she tugs his hair again.
older brother bf!suguru who is deep inside her, not caring if someone hears them, he had waited nearly all his life for this moment, not only pounding inside her as if he had been possessed, but having her heart like she had his from the very begging.
older brother bf!suguru who fucks her until the sun is rising again, and only then, he picks her up and walks to their house, their parents still sleeping.
older brother bf!suguru who sees satoru waiting from them â if you make her suffer suguru, I'll k!ll you with my own handsâ.
all rights reserved to Šnightcourtangel no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don't not copy my work.
The night is long with both of them trying to shareâŚ
Warning Tags (for this part only): NSFW, MDNI, isekai/transmigration, Xplicit s3xual content, dubcon to consent, use of Evol, applecrow x reader, 3sum, O and V DP, size difference, breeding, pseudo-incst, mentions of meimei, overstimulation, possessive, obsessive, dark romance, angst, jealousy, bruising, marking, maybe more (WC: 2.5K)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 coming soon
Author note: you may want to read the first and second part first to fully enjoy the story đ
Blood drains from your face as you watch both men looming over you like predators. Their eyes are locked onto yours, and you find yourself retreating, shrinking under the weight of their heavy, calculating gazes.
âH-hey, you know already that Iâm not her,â you stammer, your voice trembling and eyes pleading. They look at each other, then back to you. Without a word, Sylus begins to remove his clothing with lethal precision. Iâm not ready yet! I meanânot just one, but two??
Your eyes dart between Caleb and Sylus, reveling in the sight of their toned abs and the shape of their groins, but what lies beneath is equally daunting. Both release their massive lengthsâSylusâs cock springs free, his length longer, while Calebâs is thicker with mapped veins and just as hard. Both are flushed a maddened red at the tips. You are aroused and horrified all at once. âPlease, letâs just talk first!â
âTalk?â Sylus scoffs, his tone slightly mocking. âI thought you didnât want to talk yesterday?â Well, you werenât exactly talking yesterday, damn it!
Sylus circles the bed, every step he takes like a bell tolling signaling your time, until he is beside you, knees dipping into the mattress. The scent of natural musk from his manhood inches from your face makes your breath hitch and drenches the sheets even more.
You try to scramble away, but it doesn't take much for him to seize you, forcing you back against his warm, bare chest. His hot hands begin kneading your plush breasts, and a breathless moan escapes your throat. His jaw shifts as he looks at your face, eyes glazed and aroused but still pleading for mercy. You donât know your expression only makes him want to ruin you. You want to run, if not for the fact they both use their Evol to lock you in place. Shit! Why do they have to get along at a time like this?!
âI do nowâI do! HahâPleaseâŚ!â You try to move his hands but you can't make him budgeâhe clicks his tongue instead. He growls as his hands playfully pinch and flick your nipples in turn, making your hips jolt each time he switches sides to bully the sensitive, pebbled peaks. Your hands claw his shoulders. âAhâSylusâŚ!â
âFocus on me too, baby.â Caleb grabs your face and forces his tongue into your mouth, dragging your tongue out to suck on it greedily. You feel your insides clench so hard that your arousal begins dripping onto the bed. He stopped moving to glance down, watching as your clear liquid wets his knee where it brushes your slit. You can feel his lips smiling against yours, his chest heaving.
Sylusâs eyes trail down following Calebâs eyes to the mess you are making. âDid you cum before we even penetrate you? Naughty kitten.â
Sylus grips your hair and pulls your head to the side, making you gasp and breaking the kiss. Caleb growls, chasing your lips to reclaim them, his fingers entering your cunt before thrusting again. Your gasps and moans muffled by his lips kissing you fervently. Sylus buries his face in your neck, leaving a trail of bite marks. His length presses hard against you from behind; you tremble at the thought of how it might reach your belly button if he shoved it in to the hilt. The sensation of both men stimulating you is too much. You feel intoxicated as your core pours out even more fluid.
Caleb releases his Evolâyour feet feel lighterâas he releases the kiss. He licks the arousal from his fingers, humming in approval before lowering his mouth to your dripping cunt. He gathers your arousal with his tongue and drinks you in, his face buried in your folds while his tongue darts inside, flicking your sensitive spots with devastating accuracy. âFuck, youâre so wet, baby.â
âMmhâŚ! Caleb!â The vibration from his low humming makes you jolt and arch your back. Sylus shifts back slightly while his hands guides your back so you can lie flat on the bed, his cock throbbing against your lips as he releases his Evol. Caleb raises your legs to fix the angle, his face still buried between your thighs, his hands gripping your legs so hard theyâll surely bruise.
âYou canât take us both yet, princess.â Sylus strokes his length, watching your face as you bite your lip to hold back the moans, eyes watering from the intensity of Calebâs tongue and the sight of Sylus towering above your head.
âDonât biteâthatâs our privilege.â He pushes his thumb into your mouth to part your lips gently. He plays with your tongue, coating his thumb in your spit until it glistens. He shudders at the sight of you beneath him, smirks as he thinks how Caleb missed out such view.
âYou gotta take her mouth.â Caleb finally lets go, licking your juices from his face as he raises his head, looking at you through his lashes. Youâre weak for that face, and he knows it. He smirks as he positions his hip closer between your thighs, placing his tip at your entrance. âIâm claiming this hole first.â
âWaitâCalebâŚ!â Your hands push against him, but he enters you slowly, unaffected by your resistance. His fat tip is a punishing stretch for your internal muscles. You grab the hands Sylus offers for support as Caleb goes deeper; not even half of him is in yet. âAahâŚ! Hahâplease, youâre stretching meâŚ!â
âFuckâŚ! Donât clench so hard, baby. Iâll stop moving until youâre ready.â Caleb grimaces, his nails digging into your hips to keep you from squirming. Sylus rubs circles on your lower abdomen, a mock attempt to soothe you that only stimulates you further as your G-spot is pressed hard against Calebâs angry tip. Your eyes drift from Sylusâs sweat-glistening abs to his length nestled right beside your face.
âOpen your mouth,â Sylus commands, straightening his back and nudging his hot, flushed tip against your lips.
Does it even fit? You open up anyway. Your tongue licking the beads of pre-cum at his tip. He shudders at the warmth of your mouth as he begins to slide inside. You can't breatheâyou have to stretch your jaw to its limit to accommodate his girth, tilting your head back as he pushes deep into your throat. Your eyes tear up; your trembling hands caress his thighs, signaling him to slow down.
âFuck.â He remembers how she used to take him, and she never had an expression like yours. He almost ejaculates as you whimper around him, but he grits his teeth and groans, his jaw clicking as he holds himself back. âDonât make such face, kitten.â
Suddenly, they both slam into your holes. You gag at the sudden dual thrust, your throat completely filled with Sylus while Caleb bottoms out inside you. Your hands flail around Sylusâs waist, asking for help. He notices your movements after his mind goes blank for a moment and pulls out, allowing you to cough and gasp for air. He hushes you while his hands stroke your hair damp with sweat.
âIâm sorry. I thought you could take me.â He has to remind himself you aren't her, or youâll withdraw from him againâsomething he can't have. He grabs your hand and guides you to stroke his length, already wet with your spit. You look at his face, his jaw tight and face contorted from holding back, his pupils blown wide, staring back at you.
âI guess heâs your favorite, huh.â Sarcasm drips from Calebâs lips as he slams into you again, burying his entire shaft. You let out a scream of combined pleasure and pain as he smothers your womb. âFuckkkâhahâyou feel so good.â
âI bet you wouldn't even see me if I hadn't come over. Youâre having so much fun with many men, even here in this apartment.â His fingers bruise your hips as he slams into you repeatedly. You let out loud, choking sounds at his merciless thrusts.
âCaleb, IâhicâI wouldn'tâagh!â Your hand stops shaking Sylusâs length as your focus shatters under Calebâs relentless assault. His grip is bruising as he lifts your hips to a better angle, ramming into you without mercy. Your eyes lock; his pupils almost devour what little purple is left in his eyes.
âHahâIâm so close! BabyâŚ!â
âDonât be selfish, Caleb.â Sylus flares his Evol, nearly choking Caleb as a warning. Caleb stops mid-thrust, shooting Sylus a terrifying glare. He glares back with equally terrifying red eyes. âYou already fucked her cunt. Stop hoarding her attention.â
âWill you both just listen!!â you scream, finally sick of their fighting. Your sudden outburst catches them off guard, freezing them mid-motion. âI've been in love with both of you for so long! And yes, Iâm ashamed of how easily Iâm giving in to thisâto both of youâbut please, just believe me when I say I want you! And stop fighting mid-sex! I canât switch between managing your tempers and receiving your huge cocks!â
The silence that follows is deafening. They stop moving entirely, their bodies locked in place as they stare into your eyes, their expressions unreadable and blank. You regret screaming. Oh shit, are they gonna get angry?
Itâs a sudden, violent throb to their systemsâa rush of raw validation they never realized they craved. With her, everything was a performance, a contest between men. But your anger? Your desperate, messy honesty? Itâs a soul-deep acknowledgement that they both wanted, and it shatters their last bit of restraint.
Both men tremble against you, their muscles coiling as they reach a breaking point. Calebâs knuckles go white as he delivers a few final, punishing thrusts, while Sylus forces your hand into a frantic rhythm on his length, his eyes locked on yours.
They break in unison. Caleb groans, a hot wave of release flooding you until it overflows and drenches your thighs. Simultaneously, Sylus splatters your face in thick streaks, his breath hitching into a dark growl.
You don't hesitate, licking the heat from your skin and swallowing every drop. The sight of you consuming his seeds destroys whatâs left of their composure; both men snap back to a heavy, aching hardness instantly, their gazes darkening with a brand-new hunger.
âWaitâWhy are you both getting hard again?!â
âItâs your fault, baby. Youâre a natural at this.â Caleb slicks his sweaty hair back, a dark grin plastered on his face. âI donât know about him, but once is not enough for me.â
âSince you already came inside, time to switch.â Sylus glares at him, a small warning.
Caleb groans as he pulls out, shifting to your head. Sylus positions himself in front of your thigh, then flips you onto your stomach, making you yelp as he raises your hips high.
âMy turn, princess.â He positions his throbbing length and slams into you, burying himself to the hilt. Your tilt back in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the sensation his tip hitting your core repeatedly. The dirty sound of skin slapping, mixed with the wet schlop of your overworked cunt, echoes through the room.
âHaaâahhâŚ! Not too deep! Sylus!â
His name escapes your mouth, making Calebâs brows furrow with jealousy. He raises your upper body with his Evol, knowing your hands are too weak to hold yourself up. He tilts your head upward, forcing you to look at him as he positions himself in front of you, his cum still leaking from his tip.
âClean it.â
A shiver races down your spine. You never realized it before, but commanding tones are definitely your kink. You grab his length and lick every inch of his long dick, your rhythm breaking every time Sylus slams your insides. He arches and throws his head back at the sensation of your breath and tongue on his length. âHahâfuckâeven your tongue feels perfect.â
You watched him shuddering, then take his fat tip in your small mouth in attempt to please him more. âShitâmeimei, Iâm gonna cum again if you look at me like that. Can I go a bit deeper?â
You nod, he gently put his length deeper. It wasnât until half that the edge of your lips start to tear, makes you whimper, eyes teary looking at him while pleading. His face contorts in pain as if heâs the one hurt, and pulls out. âOh, shit. Baby, are you ok?â
Sylus stops his movement, concerned about you. You nod in silence. Caleb pats your hair, fingers linger a bit long between the threads of your hair before he tilts your head up, licking the torn lips to soothe the pain, kissing you again. You close your eyes in the deep kiss.
âNow youâre not paying attention to me, kitten. How will you learn to share your affection?â He suddenly slams his length again.
âMmhâ! Sho-so sorry, Sy!â You raise your other hand to touch him, but he licks your palm instead before biting down. âAh!â
He hovers over you, his face close to your ear as he growls, his hand rubbing circles around your lower abdomen and whispers, âIâm going to fuck your womb. Youâre going to be a beautiful mother glowing with my babies inside your belly.â
A shiver runs down your spine as heat builds inside you. You love the idea of having their babies, with their eyes or their hair color, how they would be the hottest daddies ever. The thought slips out of your mouth. âY-yesâŚ! Yes, daddy, please put your seeds inside me!â
ââŚFuck!â Sylus shivers at the new nickname, thrusting faster and harder, before he push his tip so hard it enters your womb, making you scream in both pain and pleasure as you reach your climax while he release a flood of cum directly inside your core. He grins darkly when your insides clenching as they drink his cum. âMy love, you certainly know how to push my buttons.â
Sylus releases his length with a pop, and your cunt gushes with mixed fluids. He guides your trembling hand to stroke Calebâs length, while Caleb presses your cheek to open your mouth.
âDrink mine too.â
His tip is directed at your mouth, your tongue sticking out to receive his cum. He grunts before finally another spurt of cum comes out, right into your mouth. You drink the whole release in one gulp and lick his tip clean.
He releases his evol and you gasp for air as you collapse on the bed, unable to move from the intensity of what just happened. Sylus licks the liquid from your thighs, cleaning your swelling folds. Caleb caress your head and pats your back softly in an attempt to soothe you, until your breath is no longer ragged and light returned from your hazy eyes. You almost close your eyes drifting to sleep.
âYouâve done well taking us both, baby,â Caleb takes your hand and kiss the bite Sylus branded on your palm, âbut Iâm sorry.â
Huh� You blink.
âWeâre still not done.â Sylusâs voice rasp behind you, his thumb parting your swelling folds. You jolt again.
âI-I donât think I have energy leftâŚâ
âItâs okay, baby.â Caleb lift you up, then position you above his body as he leans on the bed.
Sylusâs hardened tip grazing your butt as he moves behind you. âYou donât need to move. We will manage the rest.â
By the third round, your voice was nearly gone. They still bicker throughout the night, yet manage to fuck you senseless, makes you cum for who knows how many times already, dragging you around using you like a doll until your mind goes blank.
âNnh!â You wake up to the sun glaring into your eyes. Oh my God, did I faint? Or was yesterday just a dream?
You look around. The window is already fixed, the glass clear and new. The broken glass is gone, as if it had never fallen at all.
You try to sit up, but the sharp pain in your back and the ache in your pussy and your legsâand apparently all over your body from being used all nightâconfirms reality.
âOw!â
You take your time gathering strength in your legs; even though you aren't moving, your legs are still trembling. You want to kill both of them for this.
A mixed flood of cum gushes out of you as you stand. You grab tissues before it stains the carpet. It stings again when you have to bend down to wipe the liquid running down your legs. You feel the urge to grab her gun and shoot someoneâor two. Donât let me see you when I recover, you sons ofâ
Your pace stops when you see the kitchen counter. It is beautifully laid out with handmade foods, lubricants and gels, pads, supplements, and branded gifts. Your eyes go straight to the food. The unholy activity of the night before has left you starving; you finish the still-warm soup in less than a minute.
But where are they? You notice two neatly folded slips of paper right beside the food.
Pips, gotta go first. Duty calls, but Iâll try my best to be back tomorrow. Donât forget to eat all of this, and keep it covered in the fridge. Donât leave it open or the whole fridge will smell!
You chuckle. Heâs still willing to be your brotherâand apparently your motherâeven after everything. You grab a sandwich and take a huge bite before opening the other note.
Love, Iâve left some items in the table to make you more comfortable. I had to leave for business in the Zone, but I will return soon so we can talk about our relationship.
One is from the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet and the other is from the Head of Onychinus. A sigh escapes you. What are the odds? In your original world, all LIs would clash one way or another. Itâs a miracle the two of them didnât shoot each other yesterday.
You sigh again. Things progressed too fast last night, you didn't even have a chance to talk about anything. Now they are gone, and your business with the other three men isn't finished. You hadn't even gone out properly when Caleb suddenly arrived and dragged you around. You figure you have to buy a token of apology for the rest of them, but your bodyâs too sore.
After a soak in the tub, you change into a white dress that barely covers all the bruises and bite marks on your neck and body before heading out.
The elevator is nearly full when you step in. Even through the crowd, Xavierâs light hair is unmistakable near the back. You press yourself into the corner, praying the back of someoneâs head keeps you hidden, planning to bolt the second the doors slide open at the lobby.
But you don't even make it past the elevator.
As the other passengers step out, a hand shoots out, gripping your wrist with startling strength and yanking you back into the car. The doors begin to groan shut, but your foot keeps them from closing.
âI smelled a cockroach, indeed. I can still smell him on you.â Xavier pins you against the mirrored wall. His eyes are burning with a cold fury that pins you in place more effectively than his hands. âYouâve been ignoring me, lying to me. I tried to be patient. I tried to understand. But don't you dare lie to me again, Starlight. Who was in your apartment last night?â
âLet her go.â
The temperature in the small space plummets instantly. Zayne stands in the hallway, his hand gripping the edge of the elevator door, preventing it from closing. He steps inside, his fingers locking around your other arm with a strong grip. The two men exchange a sharp glare before Xavierâs gaze snaps back to yours.
âWas it him?â Xavierâs voice is a low, dangerous growl. âIs he the one who made you scream until dawn?â
Zayneâs composure fractures for a fraction of a second. His eyes widen, a flash of genuine shock crossing his face before he composed himself. He doesn't look at Xavier. He looks directly at you, his voice like a scalpel.
âDid you finally fuck Caleb?â
Crap.
Looking at the state of your apartmentâespecially the bedâwould drive them insane. Instead, you find yourself sitting before them in the quiet of Xavierâs living room.
âSo youâre not her? Yet you occupy her body?â Zayneâs voice is a low vibration of skepticism. He pinches the bridge of his nose, a flicker of genuine frustration. âSupposing I entertain this claim... where is the woman we knew? And what makes this soul-swap happens?â
âI... I donât know. But I can't keep lying to you,â you murmur, fingers nervously picking at your cuticles. âCaleb and... someone else already knows a bit.â
âSo they were informed first. Caleb... and Sylus.â Zayneâs eyes narrow as he confirms the name. Your heart skips. Waitâhow did Zayne know about Sylus?
âHow do you know about Sylus? And how is it you two seem to know each other already?â
âAnswer me first.â Xavierâs voice cuts through the room, uncharacteristically sharp. He isn't looking at you; heâs staring at the floor, hands nearly covering his ears as if trying to block out a memory. âWho was in your bed yesterday?â
âXaviââ
âI heard it all,â he snaps, finally looking up. The usual warmth in his eyes has been replaced by a dark jealousy. âIt was a slow torture that lasted until dawn. How could you do that? Screaming for another man right beneath me, knowing I was just a floor away?â
âIâI didnât plan for it to happen, Xavier. I was about to explain everything when theyââ
âThey?â Xavierâs breath hitches. The shock on his face is quickly swallowed by a dark realization. You know youâre screwed.
âSo it was both of them?â Xavierâs voice drops to a dangerous whisper. He stands slowly, moving toward you with a predatorâs grace. He leans over you, pinning you against the back of the sofa. His pupils are blown wide, eclipsing the light in his eyes. âIs that why youâre choosing them? Because they give you more?â
âNo, youâre not listening! Iââ
âWhat part did I miss? The part where you spent the night with two men while I counted the hours?â
Desperate, you look toward Zayne, searching for a shred of his usual rationality. âPlease, Zayne. I was going to tell all of you eventually. I never intended to end up in bed with both of them.â
âIntention is irrelevant when the outcome is the same,â Zayne says. He remains seated, his posture perfect, but his gaze freezing. Heâs seething behind that calm. âYou did it anyway.â
âThatâs why I want to end this,â you say, your voice trembling. âItâs... itâs not right. I can't keep doing this to all of you.â
âEnd this? You think you can just cut ties like a ribbon at a ceremony?â Xavier shakes his head, his face inches from yours. âNot a chance, Starlight.â
âWhat I find most illogical,â Zayne sighs, his presence suddenly looming beside the sofa, âis my own inability to walk away, despite the absurdity of your confession."
He leans down, his voice dropping to a low, clinical chill. "Do not let guilt consume you. I was never under any illusions; I knew she was entertaining others behind my back long ago. I chose to stay regardless. If I could tolerate her lies, did you truly think I would leave nowâwhen you finally have the courage to be honest?â
âAnd why do they get special treatment?â Xavierâs thumb brushes your jaw, his touch feather-light, yet the way he tilts your head back is purely possessive. âIf you truly aren't her... then you're even more irresponsible than I thought. You came into this body, took her place, and made us feel all of thisâonly to think you could just walk away?â
He leans in, his breath warm against your lips, his gaze tracking the slight tremble of your mouth. âAfter everything Iâve endured to get back to you... donât you think itâs a bit cruel to leave? And whatâto stay with Caleb and Sylus? You should start being a bit more fair, donât you think?â
Zayne settles behind you as he steps into your personal space, his shadow stretching over your white dress.
âFairness is a concept you seem to have forgotten,â Zayne murmurs, his voice low, vibrating against your spine. âYou let those two claim your night, yet you expect us to be content with a mere confession?â
Zayneâs hand reaches for your nape, his fingers finding the hidden zipper of your high collar. âIf you could survive their lack of restraint, then you are more than capable of enduring our... precision.â
The slow, metal shhh of the zipper opening sounds like a trigger being pulled in the quiet room. Xavierâs eyes flash with hunger as he watches the white fabric begin to slip, exposing the marks left by the others.
âThey were just the beginning,â Xavier whispers, his lips touching yours as Zayne pulls the dress off your shoulders. âNow, letâs see how you handle us.â
I focused on depicting the contrast between Sylus and Caleb. Sylus might seem like a ruthless, calculating man but caring deep inside, while Caleb looks like a puppy but actually full of jealousy and dark thoughts. You bet next chapter will have some ice play. Iâm so excited! Tell me what you think about the story, Iâm so nervous omg! Hope you enjoy the story đđ
Also, comment below if youâre interested in being tagged in this seriesâ future parts đ
Your mates are tall and scary to most but to you they're you're big teddy bears.
warnings: very light angst
note: do I just want 2 big, strong, fae boyfriends or do I just want these 2 to be real? the world may never know
When people find out youâre Lorcan and Rowanâs mate the blood drains from their face, get the shakes, and run away from you practically screaming
You never understand why. Your mates are the kindest males you know
Yeah, theyâre hundreds of years old warriors who are ripped, tall, and ready for a fight at any moment? So what?Â
Maybe you get it a little, it would terrifying to see either of them (especially Lorcan with his shadows) coming at you with a sword half your height
But you never picture them that way. Theyâve never given you a reason to see them as scaryÂ
Lorcan and Rowan would rather drop dead than see fear in your eyes inflicted by them. The males would never forgive themselves
They hate disappointing you too, thatâs what really breaks their hearts. The first time they disappointed you was when they had to cancel date night over an emergency in the Wastes Aelin needed Lorcan and Rowan to assist with
You had tried to hold back your tears when they told you but you couldnât help it. It was the first time in a long time they had to say no to you. While in the Wastes everyone was tiptoeing around them due to their bad mood
When Lorcan and Rowan came home a few days later they more than made it up to you by taking you to all your favorite places in Terrasen and on cute dates (not to mention activities in the bedroom)
Out of the 2 Rowan is the less grumpy of your mates. Rowan is the easiest to snap from a bad or brooding mood into doting on youÂ
All you do is wrap your hand in his and Rowan is looking at you like youâre the reason for the sun rising as he coos at you. âHi love. Howâs your day going? Can I get you anything?â he asks, bring your hand up to his lips to press kisses across your knuckles. âIâm good Ro. I just wanted to say hi.â you smile and Rowanâs heart skips a beat
Lorcan is a little harder to bring out of his brooding and boy does that male looovvveees to brood like itâs his second job
Whenever you enter a room the pair of them light up, the rest of the world fades away and youâre the only person in the world to them
It doesnât matter whoâs around Rowan and Lorcan will always gravitate towards you
Out of the two Rowan always knows the right sweet words to say to you
But when Lorcan dotes on you ooohhhhhh it is sweetness overloadÂ
If thereâs a threat against you, forget about it. All bets are off. They go from your loving mates to lethal warriors and will kill anyone who tries to cause you harm
At the first sign of danger Lorcan and Rowan are quick to step in front of you to shield you, reaching behind them to hold you and make sure youâre still with them
Lorcan has growled at someone for staring at you the wrong way
Doarian and Manon had uncovered a plot to kidnap you, Aelin, and Lysandra and Lorcan worked around the clock to make sure the threat was neutralized
Selfishly, Lorcan does not care about Aelin and Lysandra. He cares solely about you
One night, long after the threat has been taken care of, Lorcan woke up to find you gone from bed, the sheets between him and Rowan cold as the silver haired male slept
After Lorcan has his freak out moment he follows his shadow and that feeling in his chest that connects the 3 of you, finding you curled up in his usual armchair by the fireplace. One of his daggers laying on the end table next to the chair
Lorcan tries not to make too much noise, the last thing he wants to do is sound threatening to you. You felt him the moment he started to worry. A gentle hand rests on your shoulder but your gaze never leaves the windows
Lorcan wasnât used to being gentle before you. He was always rough and direct and many people called him blunt and rude. Never you though, you brought out a side of Lorcan he never knew he had
Moments like these with you still trip him up. If you think he sounded rude Lorcan would sew his mouth shut to avoid speaking another rude word to you ever again
âAngel,â he says, resting a large hand on your shoulder. âWhat are you doing out here? Did something happen?â You shake your head and look up at him with tired and scared eyes. âOh angel. Talk to me.â Lorcan picks you up so he can sink into the chair, placing you on his lap and holds you close to his chest
âI know you and Rowan will always protect me and that you handledâŚit. But Iâm still scared, Lorcan. What if there are others? What if they come back?â you ramble, wrapping your arms around Lorcan tighter and tighter
He listens and holds you while you list your fears. âYou know Iâll never lie to you, y/n,â Lorcan starts. âThreats will always be around. This one just got too close but Rowan and I handled it, like we always do to keep you and the kingdom safe. You have every right to still be scared, I understand. I will always be here, and Rowan will be too. Iâd never let anyone get to you, angel, never.â He presses a long kiss to the top of your head before carrying you back to bed
Summary -Â She only wanted one nightâno strings, no promises, just a little fun with the pretty girl from the app. But when her date turns out to be Feyre and her husband Rhysand, everything she thought she agreed to spins out of control.
One night becomes something she can't escape, chance encounters, lingering touches, and messages that start to feel like something more.
She keeps running, insisting it's casualâbecause falling for two people who already belong to each other can only end in heartbreak.
But Feyre paints her into art, Rhys looks at her like she's already his, and suddenly it's not just chemistry anymore.Â
It's connection. It's terrifying. It's real.
Tags -Â modern AU, polyamory, emotional tension, accidental love, found connection, fear of falling
Contents -
â´ď¸ One | A Table for Three | 2.8k words
â´ď¸ Two | Inescapable | 2.1k words
â´ď¸ Three | Static in the Air | 2.8k words
â´ď¸ Four | The Muse | 2.1k words
â´ď¸ Five | Falling Into Place | 2k words
ACOTAR Masterlist
A/n -Â As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.
This fic was another request and it is on the shorter side because the prompt wasn't very detailedâbut I hope it still delivers!
This is the first time EVER since I began writing (about seven/eight years ago) that I'm writing a story with another female as one of the love interests. I just wasn't sure I could ever do it justice, but the request called for it, and I gave it my all. Please be gentle, I've poured my absolute best into this :)
Please don't hesitate to vote or comment along the way, it truly means the world to me <3
âŕż "can't keep still" azriel x f!reader x rhysand
synopsis: you and your mates are on a mission in the autumn court, camping out on the battlegrounds. unfortunately, horniness calls, and you need your mates who warn you not to test their patienceâŚ
a/n: okay so when i mention âthe tentâ in this smut, i mean like the one in harry potter and the goblet of fire (fuck j.k. rowling though) where the tent is magical and looks ordinary on the outside but is HUGE on the inside and looks like a little house with big beds and tables and such <3 also, first time writing a threesome! lmk what you think!
tags: @high-lady-of-autum @pageezy45
You lay in the generous king-size bed in the tent you shared with your mates on the Autumn Court grounds.
You and Azriel were already snuggled up in bed, waiting for Rhysand to join you once he was done with his âHigh Lords Onlyâ meeting in Kalliasâ tent.Â
Azriel lay behind you, spooning you into his body like the perfect cocoon. You felt his warm breath on your neck as he gave you gentle kisses and whispered âI love youâsâ in your ear.
One of his arms was extended for you to use his bicep as a pillow, despite the luxurious, plush pillows you had on the bed. His other arm was wrapped around your waist, squeezing you with reassurance now and again. Your legs were a tangle of long vines.Â
The breeze of the Autumn Court drifted through the tent, and you felt an overwhelming amount of love and gratitude for your life; that you had found not one but two mates who would give anything to keep you safe and smiling.Â
You started shifting in your mate's grasp, wanting to snuggle even closer into his body, even though you were already pressed against each other in your undergarments. It wasnât enough. You needed his body to absorb yours, and then youâd finally be close enough.
âStop wiggling,â Azriel mumbled groggily in your ear, sleep clearly creeping up on him.
âSorry, I just wanna snuggle all close.â
âYour hips.â
âWhat?â
âStop moving your hips.â
You realized youâd been wiggling your hips back and forth against his crotch in an effort to scoot into him more, and now, when you pressed back against him, you could feel the consequences of what youâd done.
It only made you want him more.
Azriel immediately noticed the shift in your scent and picked up on the arousal in your panties.
âNow look at what youâve done,â he sighed.
âItâs not my fault!â
âItâs quite literally your fault.â
âWhateverâŚI want you,â you pouted.
âNo. Not during missions. You know the rules.â He wouldnât even open his eyes to look at you when you craned your head back to meet his gaze.
You started moving your hips in slow circles again.
âPleaaaase, Az, I need you. Donât you wanna feel me?â You reached an arm back and snaked it around his head, running your fingers through his black hair, then tugging it gently.
Azrielâs hips bucked forward slightly in response, and you suppressed a smile. He finally opened his hazel eyes to look at you.
âOf course I do. I always do. Itâs just that now is not the time. There are fae I donât fully trust surrounding us, and I have what you call my âScary Spymasterâ reputation to uphold.â
âOh, câmon, Az, Iâm sure the other High Lords and their emissaries will understand that everyone, even the Spymaster of the Night Court, needs to get laid.â
You heard him smile in your ear, then his demeanour hardened again.Â
âSweetheart, I love you, but if you donât stop moving your hips, Iâm gonna have to ask you as the Spymaster, not as your mate.â
Joke's on him, that little âthreatâ only made your panties soaked, and his throaty groan meant he knew it.
âAzriel,â you whined, not giving up on your desperate horniness, âplease just fuck me.â
But he didnât respond. You noticed his breathing still, so you stilled yours as well, and finally stopped moving your hips.Â
Darkness slid over the tent. You propped yourself up on one elbow and scanned the room as Azriel lightly chuckled.
âMaybe youâll listen to him then.â
Rhysand stepped out of the shadows, looking directly at you with darkened, purple eyes.Â
âDo you know that I can smell how wet you are from Kalliasâ tent?â
Your cheeks heated in slight embarrassment.
âSorry, Rhys,â you knew how much he hated it when you teased him during meetings. At least this time it wasnât your fault, right? It was unintentional. Maybe heâd understand that.
âAnd you,â he shifted his gaze to Az, who raised a furrowed brow, âyou couldnât keep it in your pants?â
Azriel huffed out a laugh and relaxed his face, leaning into the pillow.
âI told her, brother. I told her to stop grinding her ass into me, and our mate didnât seem to want to listen.â
You were slightly intimidated, but also somehow getting more turned on. As much as you didnât want your mates to be genuinely angry with you, you did want them to punish you in ways youâd all enjoy.
You tucked your elbow down to your side and leaned back into the nook between Azrielâs neck and shoulder, pulling the blanket up higher to your chin.
He turned his head to kiss your temple, as if sensing you needed to know they werenât genuinely angry with you.Â
Rhysand began stalking towards the bed.
âDonât cower now, darling, you werenât afraid to disobey Azrielâs orders a moment ago.â
You gathered your confidence.
âI donât have to take orders from him or you just because youâre my mates.â
âOf course not, darling, your mates can never tell you what to do,â he lowered his voice an octave, âbut your High Lord sure can.â
You squeezed your thighs together in anticipation. Az moved his hand from your waist up to your stomach and stopped just beneath your breasts, which were covered by nothing but your thin, white tank top.
Once again, your hips began moving, but this time it was on instinct. You always shifted your hips around when your mates were getting you all hot and bothered.Â
Rhysandâs eyes went right down to the moving blanket.
âCauldron. You wonât listen to your mate or your High Lord when they tell you to stop teasing? Darling, you know we canât have that. If you can't keep stillâŚweâll have to make you.âÂ
With that, he reached the foot of the bed and earned a yelp from you when he grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards him.Â
Everything happened so quickly with his fae abilities: the blanket was gone, your undergarments were gone, and you were flipped onto your hands and knees on the edge of the bed, looking at Azriel, who began shifting to the middle of the mattress, still lying on his back.Â
Your High Lord spoke from behind you:
âI know how much you love to fuck yourself on my dick,â it was true. Whenever your mates took you in doggy style, you loved moving your hips back to meet theirs, which is definitely why Rhys is punishing you like this, by not letting you move your hips like you so clearly loved to.
You heard him unbuttoning his pants behind you and rested your chin all the way down on the mattress.
âLook at you, so excited for your punishment. Youâve really turned into a proper whore havenât you?âÂ
You looked into Azrielâs eyes as you made an âmhmâ sound at Rhysand.Â
Azriel met your stare with intensity, then started inching towards you until your face was positioned over his dick. Then, his shadows swooshed around his underwear and took them off in a second.Â
He cupped your face in his rough hands and tilted your chin up at him. You felt Rhysand put his big hands on your hips, the tip of his dick sliding against your pussy.
Azriel said, âYouâre gonna take everything we give you, and youâd better not move a fucking muscle.â
Rhysand slid into you, and you gasped for breath as he started fucking you at a steady pace, gripping your hips roughly to make sure you wouldnât move them back onto him.Â
You werenât fucking each other tonight. He was fucking you.Â
Azriel still held your face in his hands. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours.
âYou can take it, sweetheart,â he said lovingly, âthis is what you wanted, isnât it? You wanted dick so bad, and now youâre getting it, so I donât know why youâre not saying âthank youâ to your High Lord.â
âTh-thank you, High L-Lord,â you panted out.
Rhysand slapped your ass, and as you opened your mouth to squeal, Azriel moved your face down to his lengthy dick and stuck it inside your gaping mouth.Â
You moaned around his dick as you sucked it, trying to look up at Azriel as he leaned back on both hands and let your mouth work on him.Â
âGood girl,â he rasped.
You felt overwhelmed with arousal and excitement. You knew your mates would never hurt you or make you uncomfortable, so it made you feel safe enough to indulge in things like this with them.Â
You moaned again as you felt your pussy getting wetter at the realization you were taking both of your matesâ dicks at once.Â
Rhysand slapped your ass again.Â
âYouâre squeezing my dick so good, darling, keep staying still for me.â
You slid your mouth off Azrielâs dick to jerk him off, but Rhysand leaned forward and grabbed your wrists, crossing them behind your back and using them as leverage to rail himself into you even harder.
âFuck Rhys, fuck!â
âTake it, you slut, fucking take it.â
Your eyes rolled in pleasure, and Azriel grabbed your face again.
âI didnât say you could stop.â He moved your mouth back onto him, and you sucked him as hard and as fast as Rhysand was fucking you.Â
You saw Rhysandâs wing twitch in your peripheral vision, meaning he was close.Â
You wanted so desperately to push your hips back onto him, but you knew if you did, he wouldnât let you cum for days, so you took what he gave you and kept lapping at Azrielâs dick, enjoying that you could at least move your head up and down on him.Â
Azriel leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes.
âWhat do you think, brother? Does she deserve our cum in her?âÂ
Rhysandâs pace didnât falter as he kept snapping his hips into you.
âShe deserves to be filled up like the slut she is,â Rhys growled and slapped your ass again, making you moan.Â
Your moan sent Azriel over the edge, and he gripped your hair tightly as he spilled into your mouth, your tongue licking at every warm drop and swallowing it.Â
You came undone next, in unison with Rhysand, as you both moaned and rolled your eyes through your orgasm.
Rhys groaned as he filled you, leaning forward to brace his hands beside yours. His body swallowed you whole with love and lust.
The three of you caught your breath for a moment, then Azriel was pulling you off Rhysandâs dick towards him.Â
You slid right out from underneath Rhys; Azriel turned you around so you were on your back looking at Rhys, who still had his hands braced on the bed, and was looking at you like he wasnât done with you.Â
It seemed like Azriel wasnât done either.
He sat up against the headboard and pulled you between his legs and into his chest.
You sighed at the warm feeling of his body and leaned your head back on his broad chest.
He kissed the top of your head, then placed his long legs around yours and pried them apart. Rhysandâs cum was dripping out of you, and your pussy was sticky with it.
Rhysand growled deep and low. His purple eyes turned a navy violet. He brought his knees up to the bed and crawled towards you.Â
The entire world and the rest of the fae on the battlegrounds seemed to disappear. It didnât even feel like you were in a tent anymore.
It felt like you were in some third space; in some secret pocket of the world where only you and your mates existed when you were intimate like this.Â
Azriel spoke and pulled you away from your thoughts.Â
âSometimes I pray that you never learn to listen to instructions,â he said quietly.
You huffed out a laugh as Azriel brought hands to your breasts, squeezing and massaging them.Â
Rhysand still hadnât said anything since he came. It was like he was in a trance, watching you restrained between Azrielâs legs with your pussy on display and leaking with the proof of his need for you.
He lowered himself between your thighs and placed his broad hands on them as he buried his gorgeous face into your pussy.
You moaned loud and raw, and your hands flew to his hair. Before you could grab it, Azrielâs shadows bound your wrists together.
You whimpered, and Azriel chuckled.
âDid you forget you werenât allowed to move?â He taunted.
It was practically torture. Having Rhysand lick and suck and spit at your cunt and not being able to buck and circle your hips, not being able to grab and pull at his hair.Â
It was also practically torture having Azriel palm and pull at your breasts, and not being able to let your hands fly back into his hair, too.Â
He dipped his head and planted open-mouthed kisses and bites on your neck and behind your ear.
All you could do was moan and groan and whine and whimper repeatedly as your mates worked on you like this.
You could cum just looking at Rhysand like this. The High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful High Lord in history, was enamoured with your pussy.Â
He was your mate, and the simplest things had him literally crawling towards you, sucking on you like it was his only mission in life.
You watched his back muscles and wings as they moved and twitched with the movements of his head in your heat and his arms running up and down your thighs.Â
He moaned against your pussy, and you moaned in response, remembering he was also tasting his own cum spilling out of you.Â
âPlease,â you whimpered, âplease, Rhys. I wanna cum.â
He ignored your request entirely and kept working on your pussy. You needed more.
âPlease,â you tried again, âplease put your tongue in me, Rhys.â
But it was Azriel who answered with a simple, âNo.â
Azriel moved his hands to your hips and lifted you like you were just another pillow on the bed.Â
Rhysand shot him a glare, like he was angry at him for taking your sweet cunt away from his lips.
Azriel held you up as he leaned his hips forward ever so slightly and lowered you right onto his long, hard dick.Â
Both you and Azriel let out a throaty moan the entire way down.
Now you were back in the same position as you were seconds before, this time with Azriel filling you.Â
He returned his hands to your breasts, which left you confused: if you werenât allowed to move your hips up and down on him, and he wasnât going to pull your hips up and down on him, then how was he going to fuck you?
You got your answer when Rhysand nuzzled his face back into your cunt, and hooked his hands beneath your thighs. He started lifting you up and down on Azrielâs dick, his mouth latched firmly onto your clit.
Azriel moved one hand around your throat and pulled your head back to look at him.
âAre you enjoying this, sweet girl?â
You were so far gone in your pleasure that you struggled to answer coherently.Â
âY-yes, Az.â
âWhatâs that baby? I canât understand you when you mumble like that. Speak up.â He asserted.
You took a shaky breath and pushed out more coherent words.
âYes, Az, I love it.â
âYou love what?â
âI love being punished by my mates.â
He pulled your head up even further and leaned down to place sloppy kisses on your lips.
âYes, you do, you little slut. What do you say to your High Lord for treating you so nicely?â
You moved your eyes towards Rhys who was so pussy-drunk you didnât even know if he could hear you.Â
His eyes were glossy, and his tongue was licking desperate circles around your clit as his toned arms never slowed their pace while he fucked you on Azrielâs dick.Â
âTh-thank you, High Lord.â
Azriel squeezed your throat tighter.
âThank you for what?â
âF-fuck, thank you for t-treating me s-so nice, High Lord.â
It turns out Rhysand could, in fact, still hear you. He moved his tongue off your pussy and brought his face to yours.
âYou needed it, darling. You needed to be treated like the desperate whore you are, so youâll finally fucking sit still in here and let your High Lord do what needs to be done out there.â
He grabbed your face out of Azrielâs grasp and pulled you towards him.Â
He sat back on his knees, and you were now leaning forwards on yours, sliding slightly off of Azrielâs dick, but he gripped your hips to keep you from moving completely off him.Â
You could smell and see the wetness from your cunt all over Rhysandâs mouth and chin.Â
âAre you ready to cum again?â Rhysand asked.
âYes.â
He slapped you lightly on the cheek.
âYes, what?â
âYes, High Lord, Iâm ready to cum again.â
âGood slut,â he finished before smashing his mouth onto yours and shoving his tongue so far in your mouth it was nearly touching the back of your throat.Â
You tasted yourself and him on his tongue and in his mouth as Azriel started roughly pulling your hips up and down on his dick.
You yelped out a moan, and Rhysand took your gaping mouth as an opportunity to spit inside it. You swallowed his spit and stuck your tongue out in invitation for more.
âCauldron, youâre fucking insatiable,â he said as he held your face tightly between his hands and spit in your mouth two more times before moving his thumbs under your jaw to shut your mouth and make you swallow once more.
Azriel was gripping and slapping your ass as he bounced it up and down on him. He groaned at the sound of your wet pussy sliding up and down on him, and the clapping noise it made whenever your ass met his hips.Â
âPlease, can I please cum?â You asked none of your mates in particular.Â
Azriel responded first.Â
âCum on my dick like the slut you are, baby. Iâm gonna get you all nice and full of my cum.â
He snapped your hips down onto him with unapologetic roughness a few more times before you felt him spill inside you with a loud groan.Â
You met his orgasm with your own and shuddered on his dick as Rhysand held eye contact with you through your orgasm.Â
Your body felt limp and drained. Azriel slid himself out of you, and you immediately felt his cum slide down your thighs.Â
You let yourself fall forward against Rhys, who scooped you up bridal style.Â
He moved towards the headboard beside Azriel, and they both leaned against it while you were still in Rhysandâs arms, cradled against his chest and stretching your long legs across Rhys and onto Azrielâs lap. He lovingly ran his hand up and down them.
âShhh,â Rhysand whispered as he kissed your forehead. Azriel kissed your ankles.
âAre you okay?â Azriel asked.
You smiled and nodded sleepily.Â
âIâm sorry I didnât listen to you when you told me to stop moving Az.â
Rhysandâs chest moved with quiet laughter, and your upper body moved with it.
âNo, youâre not, darling,â he said softly and squeezed you a little tighter in his arms.
It was your turn to laugh now, and you said, âNo, no, Iâm not.â
Azriel started giggling too, and you fought the urge to kick your feet and squeal in excitement at how much you loved these males.
âI love you both. More than anything.â
âWe love you too, sweet girl,â Azriel said.
âWe really do, darling,â Rhysand added and kissed your forehead again.
After a few moments of silence, you felt yourself falling asleep on your High Lord's chest.Â
You were half-asleep when Rhysand scooped you up gently and placed you in Azrielâs lap. He kissed your cheek and whispered something about having to return to his meeting.
Azriel held you close in his arms and gently rocked you back and forth. Â
âNo shenanigans when we go to sleep this time, understand?â
You nodded your head.
âWords, baby.â
âYes, Az, no shenanigans, I promise.âÂ
âGood girl,â he whispered, and kissed your nose.
You were too fucked-out to even think about going another round. So you absorbed Azrielâs warmth and kept your eyes shut, falling asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.
You woke up to a bright, warm, quiet tent. The first thing you noticed was that you werenât in Azrielâs arms anymore.Â
You rolled over, hoping to find him sleeping peacefully beside you, but you were equally pleased to be met with Rhysand instead.
You admired how beautiful he looked while resting. It made him look soft and boyish.Â
His lips parted slightly.
âYouâre staring,â he said groggily, without opening his eyes.
âIâm gazing,â you countered.
âItâs creepy.â
âItâs romantic.â
He smiled and opened his eyes, which were a completely different shade of purple than they were last night.Â
âWhereâs Az?â You questioned.Â
Rhys stretched an arm out, inviting you into his chest. You happily accepted and scooted into him, draping an arm and a leg over his body.
âI sent him out to do some Spymaster work.â
You made a âhmphâ sound and pouted. Maybe it was greedy, but you wanted to fall asleep and wake up with both mates each day and night, and with all the wars on the brink of Prythian, things were getting messy and disorganized.Â
Rhysand sensed your discomfort and moved the free hand that was behind his head, wrapping it around you instead and pulling you right atop him.Â
âDarling, itâs okay. Itâll all be over soon, and weâll go back to Velaris and never leave.â
You really hoped that was true.
You lifted your head and looked at him.
âI love you.â
âI love you,â he placed a long, slow kiss on your lips that conveyed everything words couldnât.
âYou want to sleep in a bit more before Az gets back?â He asked.
You nodded eagerly and rolled off his chest and onto your side. A silent invitation for him to spoon you.
He happily accepted the invitation and nuzzled his frontside against your backside.
You sighed in contentness and Rhysand did the same, his warm breath sending shivers down your body, and right to your pussy.Â
Not again, you thought. You couldnât help it. Literally everything Rhys did turned you on.Â
You decided to be bold and moved your hips around slowly.
âMore already?â Rhysand asked.
You nodded shyly.
âAlright, darling, but you knowâŚIâm exhausted from all the hard work I put into making you cum last night.â
You waited to see where he was going with this.Â
He rolled you both over, and you sat up, now in the reverse cowgirl position.
You wanted to turn around, but he held your hips in place and started rocking them back and forth. His already hard dick pressing against your clit perfectly.
Then he put his hands behind his head, watching your plump ass rub and roll against him.
You kept moving, and then you realized what he wanted this time.
You craned your head back to look at him. A cheeky smirk was already planted on his face.
âYou want me to do all the work this time, donât you?â
He nodded; the same smug expression on his face.
âThis time, Iâll be the one staying still.â
You matched his smirk with one of your own and started rolling your hips again.
⼠pairing: wolf hybrid!sylus qin x cat/kitten hybrid!fem!reader
⼠summary: For years, youâd learned to live with loving someone you could never have. You convinced yourself that friendship was enough, that watching from the sidelines didnât hurt as much as it did. You treasured every smile, every fleeting touch, even as they slowly broke your heart. You told yourself you werenât enoughâwould never be enoughâfor someone like him. Or so you believed. Then one day, everything changed.
⼠genre: fluff + angst + smut (18+ mdni)
⼠wordcount: 31k+ (lol I am not normal about sylus)
⼠warnings/tags: hybrid!au, best friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, idiots in love, mutual pining, miscommunication kinda in terms of assumed unrequited love, longing/yearning, jealous!reader, kinda shy!reader, reader is described as shorter than sylus, emotional!reader, very small / short scene where reader got a bit harassed (not by sylus, sylus comes and steps in and protects reader. Itâs a very small and short scene but if it makes you uncomfortable pls skip), synced ruts/heats. mating. inexperienced/virgin!reader, loss of virginity, unrealistic first time, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom sylus, ok⌠just in overall bye, sylus is soft for reader, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, oral fixation. some daddy kink and the use of alfa. huge breeding kink aaaaa sorry. I wrote this while ovulating. theyâre both FREAKS. scent kink? knotting. sylus is worshipping his sweet girl ok! doggy style / prone bone đ and missionary position. lots of pet names (mostly kitty/kitten, little kitten). lowkey pillow princess vibes. this is high key sweet and soft and then turns filthy (and then turns soft again). reader has hair, no further description though. this is not beta read sorry!
EDIT: also I know cats are not seen as prey animals because they are predators themselves but compared to a wolf I felt like that was a big contrast. like cat and dog dynamic. at the end of the day, the state of âpredator-preyâ is fluctuant and depends on a lot of stuff, as even the biggest predators can become prey. hense why I wrote what I wrote.
⼠a/n: Iâve always always wanted to write a hybrid au and never came around to do it. I wrote something hybrid related YEARS ago but it was sitting in my wips collecting dust. It had the same plot but it was written totally differently and it was not good. so now that Iâve improved my writing over the years I felt like giving this story a shot again but this time with my muse and my everything : sylus. I am so happy and excited to finally release this fic to the world and I hope you enjoy reading this fanfic as much as I loved writing it <3 happy reading! đЎ
this goes without saying, but if you donât like it donât read it <3
AO3 ⢠masterlist
Being roommates with your best friend had its perks. You were together almost all the time, sharing both the big and small moments of life in ways that felt natural, inevitable even. Youâd lend each other a hand with mundane tasks, or offer guidance when one of you was feeling lost or stuck. Your tall best friend effortlessly reached the top shelves you could only dream of touchingâa constant reminder of how much bigger wolf hybrids were compared to cat hybrids like youâand you both spent countless nights dissolved in laughter during movie marathons, shoulders pressed together on the couch, your tail occasionally draping over his leg in those comfortable moments when you forgot to be self-conscious. Sharing responsibilities became something more than just practicalâsplitting chores like cooking and laundry felt easy and natural, domestic in a way that made your heart ache with how right it felt. There was a profound comfort in knowing your best friend was always dependable, always there, ready to support you whenever you needed it. And whenever you were desperate for warmth, for contact, for reassurance, Sylus was probably already reaching for you, attuned to your needs in that uncanny way wolf hybrids had with those they cared about, ready to envelop you in his armsâthat embrace that felt like home and made your ears fold back in contentment.
But living with him also had its disadvantages.
Especially considering that Sylus Qin, your best friend and the man you were hopelessly in love with, was quite the menace.
Sylus had always possessed this striking, almost unfair handsomeness that effortlessly made people swoon wherever he went. It genuinely wasnât fair how beautiful he wasâall sharp features and lazy confidence, those ruby eyes that seemed to see right through you, silver-white hair that caught the light, and that damnable smirk that made your stomach flip every single time. His wolf ears, pale and perfectly shaped, were expressive in ways that made him even more attractive, and his tailâgod, his tailâhad a way of swaying that drew eyes wherever he went. He had always been lucky when it came to finding partnersâor rather, when it came to finding people to warm his bed. Wolf hybrids were already considered among the most desirable hybrid types, powerful and protective, and Sylus wielded that advantage with devastating effectiveness. Heâd often bring those one-night stands back to your shared apartmentâother wolves, foxes, the occasional panther, all gorgeous predator hybrids who matched his energyâand youâd lie awake in your room, pillow pressed over your ears, trying desperately to block out the sounds with your sensitive feline hearing. It never worked. Youâd hear everythingâthe sounds that reminded you that someone else was touching him, that someone else got to know what his skin felt like, what sounds he made whenâ
Youâd learned to pretend it didnât bother you. Learned to keep your ears upright and your tail still the next morning when some stranger emerged from his bedroom, disheveled and satisfied, often sporting marks on their neck that made your claws itch to extend.
Sylus had never been the type to stick with one person, always preferring casual flings over long-term relationships. Or so youâd told yourself, because believing he was incapable of commitment hurt less than wondering if he simply didnât want commitment with you. Maybe it was a wolf thingâthey were known for being either fiercely monogamous or completely untethered. Sylus seemed to have chosen the latter.
You, on the other hand, had always craved something real, something lasting. Cat hybrids were naturally selective, notoriously picky about who they let into their space and their hearts, and you were no exception. You dreamed of finding your true loveâsomeone to share adventures with, to laugh with until your sides hurt, someone to dive into deep, meaningful conversations with at three in the morning. You loved the idea of being with someone who let you be your complete, unfiltered self, where you could spend hours talking about everything and nothingâdiscussing your favorite TV shows one minute, then passionately criticizing capitalism and dissecting the broken state of the world the next. You were a romantic at heart, longing for affection in all its forms: sweet kisses and being held close, but also the chance to be the one doing the holding, to make someone feel cherished and safe and loved, just as much as you wanted to feel those things in return. You wanted what cat hybrids were meant to haveâthat one person they chose completely, that bond that was supposed to be unshakeable.
Unfortunately, you had never had the chance to experience anything like that.
It wasnât as though opportunities hadnât presented themselves. Youâve had chances to explore connections, potential relationships with people whoâd expressed interestâa few cat hybrids, a sweet rabbit hybrid from your literature class, even a fox hybrid whoâd been persistent in their pursuit. But youâd never been able to make yourself care enough to try, never felt that spark of genuine interest in creating something meaningful with a stranger. Your instincts, usually so good at telling you who was safe and who wasnât, remained stubbornly silent with everyone exceptâ
How could you even consider anyone else when youâd already given your heart away years ago?
But the devastating truth was that Sylus had stopped being just your best friend years agoâif heâd ever been just that at all. You had been in love with him for god knows how long, and that love had wrapped itself around your heart so completely that no one else even stood a chance. Your cat hybrid instincts had chosen him, decided he was yours, even though heâd never chosen you back. It went against everything that made senseâprey didnât fall for predator, cat hybrids didnât bond with wolf hybrids, you were supposed to be naturally wary of him. But your heart and your instincts had conspired against logic.
You still remembered the day you both became friends, though you had never quite understood why heâd chosen you, given how different you were from each other. You were blunt, sometimes too honest for your own good, while Sylus, though perfectly capable of being direct, tended to move through the world with more calculated grace, choosing his words carefully like the strategic predator he was. He was passionate, tender in ways that made your chest ache, and devastatingly intelligent. Sylus was, most of the time, a confident and mysterious man who seemed to know exactly who he was and what he wanted. You, on the other hand, werenât necessarily insecure, but you wouldnât exactly call yourself confident eitherâyou existed somewhere in the uncertain middle, always questioning, always wondering. Typical cat hybrid behavior, some would say, but it felt more personal than that. You were deeply in tune with your emotions, feeling everything perhaps too intensely, but translating those feelings into words felt like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. Your tail and ears gave you away constantly, betraying every feeling you tried to hide. Sylus, though, had always been straightforward with his emotions, expressing himself with an ease you both envied and admired, his wolf hybrid directness something youâd always found both intimidating and attractive. You were an overthinker, your mind always spinning with spiraling thoughts and worst-case scenarios, and he would often step in to quiet the chaos, grounding you with that steady, reassuring presence of his whenever your thoughts threatened to consume you. He had a way of placing his hand on your head, right between your ears, that never failed to calm you downâa gesture that should have felt patronizing but instead felt safe.
You could say that opposites attract, though that phrase felt too simple for what you two had. Wolf and cat. It should have never worked.
Over time, your friendship deepened into something profound, something that felt necessary for survival. So when he asked one day if youâd like to move in with himâinto one of his new penthouses, spacious and modern and so very himâyouâd barely hesitated. Heâd told you he craved a bit more peace in his life and genuinely enjoyed your company, said it so casually like he wasnât offering you everything youâd ever wanted. It seemed like a good idea, youâd thought. A practical one, even. Your parents had warned you that living with a wolf hybrid might trigger your prey instincts, might make you anxious, but youâd dismissed their concerns.
What a beautiful mistake that had been.
You couldnât pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with your roommate, and that uncertainty haunted you. All you knew was that one day, you were suddenly drowning in an emotion so intense, so consuming, it was unlike anything youâd ever felt before. It hit you all at onceâor at least, thatâs when you finally stopped being able to deny it. Before Sylus, youâd never really had a serious crush, never experienced feelings this powerful, this devastating, for anyone. Cat hybrids were supposed to know, supposed to feel that instinctive pull toward their person, but youâd never felt it with anyone. You often told yourself it must have started shortly after you moved in with him, that living in such close quarters had simply made you confused, made you mistake intimacy for something more. But deep down, in that honest part of yourself you tried so hard to ignore, you knew that wasnât the truth. This feeling had been quietly growing from the very first moment you met him, taking root in your heart like something inevitable, slowly building until it became impossible to ignore, impossible to uproot. Your instincts had chosen him that day in the library, and cat hybrids didnât un-choose. That was the curse of it.
It was funny, you thought during those late nights when sleep wouldnât come and you could hear his steady breathing from his room with your too-sharp hearing, how life had a way of bringing you thingsâand peopleâyou never realized you needed. People like Sylus, who became so essential to your existence that you couldnât help but wonder how you had ever lived without them. People like Sylus Qin, who had become both your salvation and your undoing, your safe haven and your deepest acheâthe person who could soothe your soul and set it ablaze in the same breath, while remaining everything you needed and everything you couldnât have.
The wolf whoâd become your home, even when your instincts whispered that wolves and cats were never meant to mix like this.
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath you as you absently groomed your tailâa self-soothing habit youâd never quite broken, especially when your thoughts were spinning out of control.
It had been three days since the last one-night stand. Three days of relative peace, though you hated that you were counting.
Your fingers worked through the fur of your tail methodically, smoothing down the same spot over and over. It was a distinctly feline habit, one that most cat hybrids developed as a comfort mechanism. The repetitive motion usually helped quiet your racing thoughts, but tonight it wasnât working. Nothing worked when it came to Sylus.
The soft pad of footsteps made your ears swivel backward before you could stop themâwolf hybrids moved with an almost predatory silence that had unnerved you once, long ago. Now it was just painfully familiar.
âYouâre going to wear a bald spot into your tail if you keep that up,â Sylusâs voice came from behind the couch, warm with amusement.
You startled slightly, your hands stilling as heat crept up your neck. Of course heâd noticed. He noticed everything about you, always had. âIâm fine,â you mumbled, though your flattened ears probably betrayed the lie.
The couch dipped as he settled beside youânot too close, never too close, but near enough that his scent washed over you. Pine and something darker, earthier, distinctly wolf. It had terrified you once. Now it felt like home, and that was so much worse.
[Flashback - Seven Years Ago]
The university library had been packed with students cramming for midterms, but youâd managed to find a corner table tucked away near the back. As a cat hybrid, youâd always preferred small, enclosed spacesâthey felt safer, more secure. Especially in a school where predator hybrids made up a significant portion of the student body.
Youâd been so focused on your literary theory textbook, trying to make sense of post-structuralism for your midterm, that you hadnât noticed the group approaching until a shadow fell across your table.
âThis seat taken, kitten?â
Your ears had flattened instinctively against your head as you looked up at the lion hybrid looming over you, his two friendsâa tiger and another lionâflanking him with matching smirks. Predator hybrids. Of course.
âIâIâm studying,â you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your tail had curled tight around your leg beneath the table, a defensive posture you couldnât control.
âAw, donât be like that,â the tiger hybrid purred, leaning against your table. âWe just want to get to know you better. Youâre in our sociology class, right? Cute little thing sitting in the back, always so quiet.â
Your heart had hammered against your ribs. Youâd dealt with this kind of attention beforeâmore vulnerable hybrids often did, especially from the more âdesirableâ predator types who thought their status meant they could do whatever they wanted. Your instincts screamed at you to run, but you were cornered, trapped between the table and the wall.
âShe said sheâs studying.â
The voice had come from behind the group, deep and carrying an edge that made your fur stand on end. The three predator hybrids had turned, and youâd finally seen himâa wolf hybrid with striking silver-white hair and the most intense ruby-red eyes youâd ever seen. His pale skin almost seemed to glow under the libraryâs fluorescent lights, making him look almost otherworldly. He was tall, broader than the others, and there was something in his posture that screamed danger in a way that made even the lion hybrids take a step back.
Wolf hybrids were rare, especially in universities. They were known for being territorial, protective, and powerful. Most ended up in military or security positions, not sitting in sociology lectures.
âWe were just talking to her, wolf,â the lion had said, though his cocky tone had wavered slightly. âNo need to get territorial.â
âFunny,â Sylus had replied, his ruby eyes fixed on them with an intensity that was unmistakably predatory. âBecause from where Iâm standing, it looks like youâre making her uncomfortable. And I donât tolerate that.â
The tension had been thick enough to cut. Your ears had been flat against your head, your whole body tense as youâd watched the standoff. The wolf hybridâs scent had filled the airâassertive, dominant, unmistakably alpha. It should have terrified you more than the others had.
Instead, some instinct you didnât understand told you that you were safe.
The lion hybrid had glanced at you, then back at Sylus, and something in his expression had shifted. âWhatever, man. Sheâs not worth the trouble anyway.â Heâd jerked his head at his friends, and theyâd left, though not without shooting dark looks over their shoulders.
Youâd sat frozen, staring at this stranger whoâd just defended you without even knowing your name. Your heart was still racing, but for an entirely different reason now.
Sylus had turned to you then, and his expression had softened in a way that seemed almost impossible given the dominance heâd just displayed. Those ruby eyes, which had been so sharp and threatening moments before, now looked at you with something gentler. âYou okay?â
Youâd nodded mutely, not trusting your voice. Up close, he was even more strikingâall sharp features and powerful presence, his silver hair catching the light as his wolf ears, pale and alert atop his head, focused entirely on you. Youâd noticed his tail hanging relaxed behind him despite the confrontation that had just occurred.
âIâm Sylus,â heâd said, pulling out the chair across from you. âMind if I sit? I promise Iâm better company than those three.â
You should have been terrified. Every instinct should have been screaming at you to run from the predator sitting across from you. But instead, youâd found yourself nodding, your ears slowly lifting from their flattened position.
âIâmâŚâ you started, your voice shaky. Youâd given him your name, and when heâd smiledâreally smiled, not that predatory smirk the others had wornâsomething in your chest had felt warm for the first time since the encounter started.
âPretty name for a pretty kitten,â heâd said, and then, as if sensing your nervousness, heâd gestured to your textbook. âLiterary theory? That looks like torture.â Heâd tilted his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. âIâm in engineering, but we had to take that intro to humanities course last semester. Nearly killed me.â
Youâd managed a small, surprised laugh despite your still-racing heart. âItâs⌠a lot,â youâd admitted quietly.
âTell you what,â heâd said, leaning back in his chair with an easy confidence that should have intimidated you but somehow didnât. âIâve got some time before my next class. You look like you could use the company, and I make a pretty decent study partner. Even if I donât know the first thing about post-structuralism or whatever that is.â
And just like that, Sylus Qin had entered your lifeâunexpected, protective, and impossibly kind. What had started as a chance encounter in a crowded library would become the most important friendship youâd ever have. Heâd stayed with you that entire afternoon, helping you study despite knowing nothing about literary theory, making you laugh when moments before youâd been on the verge of tears.
[Present Day]
âYouâre thinking too loud,â Sylus said, pulling you from the memory. His hand reached out slowlyâalways slowly with you, like you were something fragile that might boltâand gently tugged your tail from your grip. âSeriously, youâre going to hurt yourself.â
Your breath caught as his fingers carefully smoothed down the fur youâd been obsessively grooming, his touch gentle in a way that contradicted everything his hybrid type was supposed to be. Wolf hybrids werenât known for gentleness. They were dominant, possessive and territorial.
But Sylus had always been gentle with you.
âSorry,â you murmured, very aware of how close he was, how his scent surrounded you. âJust⌠thinking.â
âAbout?â His hand lingered perhaps a moment too long on your tail before he pulled away, and you tried not to mourn the loss of contact.
About you, you thought. Always about you.
âNothing important,â you lied, tucking your tail closer to your body and away from temptationâboth his and yours. Your ears swiveled toward him on their own accord, betraying your attention even as you tried to appear casual.
Sylus hummed, a low sound in his chest that you felt more than heard. Wolf hybrids did thatâmade sounds that resonated, that were meant to soothe pack members. Youâd learned over the years to recognize when he did it, usually when he sensed you were anxious or upset.
He was doing it now, probably without even realizing it.
âYou know,â he said after a moment, leaning back against the couch, âsometimes I think about that day in the library. When we first met.â
Your heart stuttered. âYeah?â
âYeah.â His eyes were distant, reminiscent. âYou looked so scared. These tiny flattened ears, tail wrapped so tight around your leg. Those assholes cornering you like you were just some toy for them to play with.â His jaw clenched, and you saw his ears tilt back slightlyâa sign of irritation. âI wanted to rip them apart.â
Youâd never heard him admit that before. âYou didnât, though.â
âNo,â he agreed, his eyes finding yours. âBecause you were already terrified enough without me going full wolf on them. And becauseâŚâ He paused, something flickering across his expression. âBecause the last thing I wanted was for you to be afraid of me too.â
Your chest tightened. âI was never afraid of you.â
That was a lie. You had been, at first. He was a wolf hybrid, a predator, and you were a cat hybrid. Every instinct had told you to run.
But you hadnât. And somewhere between that first day in the library and now, your fear had transformed into something so much more dangerous.
Sylusâs expression softened, a small smile playing at his lips. âYou were absolutely terrified, kitten. Donât even try to deny it.â He reached over and gently flicked one of your earsâa familiar, teasing gesture. âThese things give you away every time.â
You wanted to argue, to protest, but he was right. Your ears had always betrayed you, constantly swiveling and flattening and perking up with every emotion you tried to hide. It was a cat hybrid thing, being so expressive without meaning to be.
âYou still notice everything,â you muttered, feeling heat creep into your cheeks.
âOnly when it comes to you,â he said, so quietly you almost missed it.
Your heart nearly stopped. You turned to look at him fully, searching his face for meaning, but he was already standing, stretching in a way that made his shirt ride up slightly. Your eyes caught on his tail swaying behind him before you forced yourself to look away.
âIâm thinking of ordering takeout,â he said, his tone casual again, as if he hadnât just said something that made your entire world tilt. âThai sounds good?â
You managed a nod, not trusting your voice.
As he walked toward the kitchen to grab his phone, you caught yourself watching himâthe confident way he moved, the silver-white of his hair catching the light, so different from your own cautious, light-footed steps. Wolf hybrid and cat hybrid. Predator and prey.
Seven years ago, heâd saved you from predators whoâd wanted to harass you.
Now, you were living with a predator who didnât even realize heâd already caught you.
Your tail curled around your waist protectively as you forced yourself to look away, back at your phone, at anything other than Sylus Qin and the impossible situation your heart had created.
Some prey, you thought bitterly, were foolish enough to walk straight into the wolfâs den.
You just wished you knew if heâd ever want to keep you there.
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
A few months into your roommate arrangement, you still couldnât get used to Sylus constantly bringing one-night stands to your shared apartment. It was pure tormentâmade worse by your heightened feline senses that picked up on everything you desperately wished you could ignore.
As you ate cereal at the kitchen island, your ears flicked toward the sound of Sylusâs bedroom door opening. One of his many conquestsâa sleek panther hybridâquietly slipped out, and you focused intently on your bowl, willing your tail not to lash in irritation. You couldnât help but watch from the corner of your eye as Sylus walked them to the door, their face adorned with that satisfied, sly smile as they batted their eyelashes at him. Your ears flattened slightly against your head as you watched their fingers play with the collar of his shirt, lingering there while he made no move to pull away, that damn smirk on his face. A knot of anger twisted in your belly. Youâd never felt such intense rage beforeâit made your claws itch to extend, a very catlike aggressive response. He leaned into their touch as they gave him a casual goodbye kiss, and you had to grip your spoon tighter to keep your composure.
You hated experiencing feelings like these. It was a gross emotion, a heavy sensation that felt thick and tar-like, clinging to your chest and making you ache with its oppressive weight. Your tail curled tight around the base of the stool, another tell you couldnât control.
Anxiety? Sure, you were often more anxious than most hybrids, but that wasnât the feeling you had at this moment. Maybe it was jealousy? You disliked how that emotion fit so easily on your tongue, leaving a bitter taste.
Each time you witnessed these scenes unfoldâthe touching, the lingering looks, the casual intimacyâjealousy and frustration would crash over you in waves. It was worse when your sensitive hearing picked up on things you wished you could unhear. Your ears would fold back automatically, and youâd bury your head under your pillow, but it never quite blocked out the sounds from his room. Those nights, youâd catch his scent mixed with someone elseâs the next morning, and it made your stomach turn. Wolf hybrids were naturally territorial, their scent marking everything, and knowing he was sharing that with others felt like claws raking across your heart.
As Sylus reentered the apartment and closed the door behind him, you couldnât stop the bitter words from escaping, your ears still slightly flattened. âSo, what number are we up to now?â
He paused, his red eyes finding yours, and you watched his wolf ears swivel toward you with interest before he chuckled and shook his head with that insufferable smirk. âNot sure. Lost count.â He shrugged with casual ease, grabbed an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen island, and took a bite.
âWhat was their name?â you asked, staring daggers at your bowl of cereal, your tail now twitching with barely suppressed agitation.
Another shrug, his tail swaying lazily behind himârelaxed, unbothered, so completely unaffected. âI donât know, and honestly, I donât care,â he replied nonchalantly before walking away.
You couldnât understand how he could be so cavalier about it all. Your ears tracked his movement even as you kept your eyes down, hating how attuned you were to his every move.
But it wasnât just jealousy poisoning your systemâit was the longing, the desperate ache for any kind of affection or love from Sylus that went beyond friendship. You were grateful to be his best friend, truly, and you knew it was foolish to hope for more, to wish heâd look at you the way he looked at⌠well, anyone else he brought home. But you couldnât help yourself. Deep down, you feared youâd always feel this lonely, this isolated in your feelings. As a cat hybrid, you were already naturally more selective about who you let close, but with Sylus, it was different. You could never fall for anyone but himâyour instincts had decided that long ago, whether you wanted them to or not. He was everything you craved and needed in life, and that awareness was its own special torture.
You felt foolish, your ears burning with constant embarrassment even when you were alone. More than anything, you felt hurt, knowing you were the only one to blame. It were your own feelings, your own stupid heart that had caused all this pain.
The thought of him eventually falling in love with someone elseâreally falling, not just these meaningless nightsâmade your stomach drop like a stone. You could picture it too easily: some gorgeous wolf hybrid, or maybe an elegant fox, someone who matched his predator energy, someone who made sense by his side. Not a skittish cat hybrid who still sometimes had the urge to run when he moved too quickly. But you forced yourself to push that devastation down, to lock it away with all the other feelings you couldnât afford to examine. It didnât matter what you wanted. Sylus was free to date whoever he wanted, to love whoever he wanted. He was your best friend, and thatâs all heâd ever be.
One day, youâd have to make peace with the fact that Sylus would always be just your best friend, nothing more.
You just desperately hoped that one day, your tail would stop drooping at the thought, that your ears would stop flattening in distress. That one day, loving him wouldnât make you feel like you were going against every prey instinct you hadâbecause loving a wolf had never been safe, and your heart had done it anyway.
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
You were cuddled up on the couch, staring blankly at your phone screen without really seeing it. Your ears kept swiveling toward the hallway, tracking Sylusâs movements in his room even though you were tryingâand failingâto focus on anything else. The soft music playing from your phone did little to calm your frayed nerves.
Your tail was wrapped tight around your waist, a self-protective posture you couldnât seem to break out of. It had been like this all dayâcoiled and tense, betraying the anxiety that had been eating at you since this morning. Youâd barely been able to focus on your writing assignment, had given up on reading after rereading the same page five times without absorbing a single word.
The soft pad of footsteps made your ears swivel backward before you could stop themâwolf hybrids moved with an almost predatory silence that had unnerved you once, long ago. Now it was just painfully familiar, and worse, it made your heart race for entirely different reasons.
âYouâre wound tighter than a spring,â Sylusâs voice came from behind the couch, warm with amusement and something softer you didnât dare name. âI can practically feel the anxiety radiating off you from here.â
You startled slightly, your tail constricting even tighter around your waist as heat crept up your neck. Of course heâd noticed. He noticed everything about you, always had. âIâm fine,â you mumbled, though your flattened ears and the visible tension in your shoulders probably betrayed the lie. They always did.
The couch dipped as he settled beside youâclose, closer than usual, near enough that his scent washed over you in a wave that made your breath catch. Pine and something darker, earthier, distinctly wolf and distinctly Sylus. It had terrified you once. Now it felt like home, and that was so much worse. That was dangerous.
You kept your eyes on your phone, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from where his thigh was almost touching yours, where his arm rested along the back of the couch. Not quite touching you, never quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat of him, close enough that if you shifted even slightly, youâd be pressed against his side.
You wanted to. God, you wanted to so badly it physically hurt.
âYouâve been like this all day,â he observed, his voice dropping to that low, gentle tone he used when it was just the two of you. When he thought you needed comfort. âWhatâs going on in that head of yours, kitten?â
The petname made your ears twitch traitorously, flicking up for just a moment before flattening again, and you saw his eyes track the movement. Of course he noticed. He always noticed.
Everything, you wanted to say. You. Always you. The way you smell like safety and heartbreak. The way I canât stop wanting things Iâll never have.
Instead, you managed a small shrug, still refusing to look at him because you knewâyou knewâthat if you met those ruby eyes right now, heâd see everything. Your fingers tightened around your phone. âJust tired, I guess.â
âLiar.â But there was no heat in it, just a tenderness that made your chest constrict. âLook at you. Your tailâs been wrapped around yourself like armor since this morning, and your ears havenât been up once. Thatâs not tired. Thatâs stressed.â
âIâm notââ you started, but your voice came out shaky, unconvincing even to your own ears.
âHey.â His hand liftedâslowly, always so slowly with you, like you were something precious that might boltâand his fingers brushed against one of your flattened ears with devastating gentleness. âTalk to me. Please?â
Your breath stuttered. You should pull away. You should make some excuse and retreat to your room where it was safe, where you couldnât do something stupid like lean into his touch like the touch-starved cat hybrid you were.
But you didnât move. You couldnât.
His fingers traced the edge of your ear with a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine, gently coaxing it upward, and you watched his eyes darken as your ear instinctively responded to his touch, slowly lifting from its flattened position. Betrayed by your own body, as always.
âThere,â he murmured, that rumbling quality entering his voiceâthe one that wolf hybrids used to soothe, to comfort. âThatâs better. Now tell me whatâs wrong.â
You canât help with this, you thought desperately. Youâre the problem. Youâre the reason Iâm anxious and aching and so desperately in love I can barely breathe.
But what came out was: âYou donât have toââ
âI want to.â He cut you off gently, and his hand moved from your ear to cup your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed across your cheek, and you wondered if he could feel how hot your skin had become, could hear how your heart was racing. With his wolf hearing, he probably could. âI always want to. You know that, right?â
Did you? Did you know that? Or was this just what he didâtaking care of people, being protective, his wolf instincts making him watch out for those he considered pack? It didnât mean anything. It couldnât mean anything.
âSylusâŚâ you breathed, and you heard how it came outâtoo soft, too wanting, too much.
Something flickered across his expression, there and gone so quickly you might have imagined it. His eyes dropped to your lips for just a fraction of a second before meeting your gaze again, and you felt your tail tighten even more around your waist, your claws flexing nervously against your phone case.
âYou do this thing,â he said quietly, his thumb still tracing idle patterns on your cheek that were making it very hard to think, âwhere you curl up into yourself when somethingâs bothering you. Make yourself small. And I hate it.â
âI donâtââ you started to protest, but he shook his head.
âYou do. Your tail wraps around you like a shield, your ears go flat, and you wonât look at anyone. Wonât ask for help even when you need it.â His other hand reached down, gently taking your phone from your death grip and setting it aside. Then his fingers found your tail where it was wrapped protectively around your waist. âAnd this⌠kitten, youâre going to hurt yourself if you keep coiling this tight.â
His touch on your tail made you gasp softlyâtails were sensitive, personal, and the way his fingers carefully worked to loosen the tension there felt intimate in a way that made your heart pound. This wasnât casual touching. This wasâ
âLet me help you relax,â he murmured, and there was something in his voice that made your skin feel too warm. âPlease? I canât⌠I canât just sit here and watch you tie yourself in knots.â
You couldnât speak. Could barely breathe. Because his hand was still on your jaw, tilting your face toward his, and his other hand was gently coaxing your tail to unwind, and he was so close you could count his eyelashes, could see the exact moment his pupils dilated slightly as he looked at you.
The air between you felt charged, heavy with something unspoken. Your ears were slowly perking up now despite your best efforts, focused entirely on him, and you saw his gaze flick to them, a small smile tugging at his lips, then back to your eyes, thenâbriefly, so brieflyâto your lips again.
âBetter,â he said softly as your tail finally loosened, though it immediately tried to curl around his wrist insteadâanother betrayal by your traitorous body. âSee? You donât always have to hold everything in by yourself.â
âYouâre staring,â you whispered, because you had to say something, had to break this tension before you did something catastrophic like close the distance between you and press your lips to his.
âSo are you.â His thumb traced your cheekbone, and his voice had gone rough around the edges. âYour eyes are doing that thing.â
âWhat thing?â Your own voice was barely audible, and your fingers had somehow found their way to his shirt, gripping the fabric without your permission.
âThat thing where they go all soft and wide and I canâtâŚâ He trailed off, his jaw tightening like he was stopping himself from saying something. His hand tightened around your tail, making you shiver.
âCanât what?â You shouldnât push. You should let this go. But youâd been so starved for him, for any hint that maybe he felt even a fraction of what you felt, and you were so tired of pretending. Your claws had extended slightly, pricking through his shirt, and you couldnât even find it in yourself to be embarrassed.
For a long moment, he just looked at you. Really looked at you, like he was seeing something heâd never allowed himself to see before. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently in the hair there, just below your ears, and the touch made you shiver visibly.
âCanât stop thinking about how much Iââ He stopped himself, closing his eyes briefly, his ears flicking back in what looked like frustrationâwith himself or the situation, you couldnât tell. When he opened them again, there was something raw there, something vulnerable that youâd never seen before. âYou have no idea, do you?â
âNo idea about what?â Your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you knew he could hear it, could probably smell the spike of adrenaline and hope and fear coursing through you. This felt important, monumental, like standing on the edge of something that would either save you or destroy you completely.
His thumb brushed the sensitive spot just behind your ear, making you melt against him unconsciously, and his expression softened into something that looked almost pained. âHow hard it is toââ
But then his phone buzzed on the coffee table, shattering the moment like glass. You both jerked slightly, and his hands fell away from you as he grabbed the phone with what looked like frustration, his tail lashing once behind himâa rare show of his own agitation.
He glanced at the screen, and something shuttered in his expression. âSorry, I need toââ He stood abruptly, running a hand through his silver hair, his wolf ears flicking back in what youâd learned to recognize as irritation. âWork thing.â
You watched him walk toward his room, your tail immediately coiling back around your waist protectively, your whole body aching with the loss of his warmth. Your ears had flattened again, and you felt the anxiety come rushing back twice as strong, your claws still extended and digging into your palms now that they had nothing else to hold onto.
He paused in the doorway to his room, looking back at you with an expression you couldnât quite readâsomething conflicted, almost tortured. âGet some rest, kitten. And stopâŚâ He gestured vaguely at you, at your defensive posture. âStop making yourself so small. You donât have to do that. Not with me. Never with me.â
Then he was gone, door closing softly behind him, leaving you alone on the couch with your racing heart and the ghost of his touch still burning on your skin.
You buried your face in your hands, ears flat against your head, tail so tight around your waist it was almost painful.
âYou have no idea, do you?â
What had he meant? What had he been about to say?
And why did it feel like youâd just missed something crucial, something that might have changed everything?
Your claws dug into your scalp slightly as you tried to calm your breathing, tried to slow your racing heart. Part of you wondered if he was grateful for the interruption. If heâd realized how close heâd come to⌠to what? Saying something heâd regret? Doing something that would ruin your friendship?
You pulled a blanket over yourself, knowing you wouldnât sleep, knowing youâd spend the rest of the night replaying every second of that interaction, analyzing every word, every look, every touch. Your tail remained coiled tight, your body still thrumming with unspent anxiety and longing.
âYou have no idea, do you?â
The worst part was, you didnât. You had no idea what heâd been about to say, and the not-knowing was its own special kind of torture.
Just another night of loving Sylus Qin and wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he could love you back.
Your ears perked slightly at the sound of his door opening again, footsteps padding back toward the living room. You kept your eyes closed, pretending to be drowsy, but your treacherous ears swiveled toward him automatically, and you felt your tail tighten even more.
You felt him drape another blanket over you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. His hand lingered for just a moment on your head, right between your earsâthat gesture that never failed to make you feel safeâand you felt your ears relax slightly under his touch, your tail loosening just a fraction.
âSleep well, kitten,â he murmured, so quietly you almost didnât hear it. His fingers stroked once, twice between your ears, and you felt some of the anxiety finally start to drain from your body. And then, even softer, like he didnât mean for you to hear it at all: âGod, youâre killing me.â
Then his footsteps retreated, his door clicked shut again, and you were left alone with your pounding heart and the devastating realization that maybeâmaybeâyou werenât the only one suffering.
But that couldnât be right.
Could it?
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
Youâd been avoiding Sylus.
Not obviouslyâyou werenât that transparent. But ever since that night on the couch, since his hand on your face and those words âyou have no ideaâ and the way heâd looked at you like you were something precious, youâd been⌠careful. Kept conversations light. Made excuses to stay in your room. Tried desperately not to think about what had almost happened, what heâd almost said.
It was easier than facing the possibility that youâd imagined the whole thing, that youâd read too much into a moment of kindness from your best friend.
So when youâd woken up yesterday with a scratchy throat and a headache, youâd almost been grateful. A legitimate reason to stay in your room, to avoid those knowing ruby eyes that seemed to see right through you.
By this morning, though, âa little under the weatherâ had evolved into âdefinitely sick.â Your head pounded, your body ached, and every time you moved, the room spun unpleasantly. Your cat ears felt hot and heavy against your head, and your tail was too tired to do anything but lie limply beside you.
Youâd texted Sylus that you werenât feeling well, asked him not to worry, and then buried yourself under your blankets to sleep it off.
That had been your first mistake.
The sound of your bedroom door opening made your ears twitch weakly.
âKitten.â Sylusâs voice was soft but firm, and you heard him cross the room to your bed. âWhy didnât you tell me you were this sick?â
ââM fine,â you mumbled into your pillow, not bothering to open your eyes. âJust need sleep.â
âYouâre burning up.â The back of his hand pressed against your forehead, and even through your fever, you registered how cool his skin felt. How good it felt. âJesus. How long have you been like this?â
âNot that long.â You tried to pull away from his touch, but your body wouldnât cooperate. âI said Iâm fine. Donât need⌠hovering.â
âTough.â The mattress dipped as he sat beside you, and you finally cracked your eyes open to find him looking down at you with concern etched across his features. His wolf ears were alert and focused entirely on you, and there was something in his expression that made your feverish heart skip. âIâm hovering. Deal with it.â
You wanted to argue, but another wave of dizziness hit and you just closed your eyes again with a small whimper.
âThatâs what I thought.â His fingers brushed gently against your overheated cheek, and you heard him sigh. âStay here. Iâm getting medicine and water.â
âCanât really go anywhere,â you muttered, which earned you a soft huff of amusement before his weight lifted from the bed.
You must have dozed off because the next thing you knew, he was back, coaxing you to sit up enough to take medicine and drink water. His arm supported your back, steady and warm, and you were too sick to care about how you leaned into him, how your cheek pressed against his shoulder.
âGood girl,â he murmured when youâd finished the water, and the praise did something funny to your fever-addled brain. âNow rest. Iâll be right here.â
âYou donât have toââ
âI know I donât have to.â He was already adjusting your pillows, pulling your blankets up higher. âI want to.â
You wanted to ask why. Wanted to ask what that night on the couch had meant, wanted to ask if heâd been about to say what you thought heâd been about to say. But your head was too heavy and your thoughts too fuzzy, so you just let yourself drift, comforted by the sound of him moving around your room, the scent of him nearby.
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
The fever dreams were the worst part.
You kept waking up disoriented, not sure what was real and what wasnât. But every time you surfaced, Sylus was there. Pressing a cool cloth to your forehead. Helping you drink water. Murmuring reassurances in that low, soothing voice that made your wolf-sensitive cat instincts relax despite everything.
At some point, you felt his fingers gently combing through your hair, careful not to disturb your sensitive ears, and you made a sound that was probably too close to a purr. You felt rather than saw him smile.
âSleep, kitten,â he whispered. âIâve got you.â
And because you were too sick to maintain your usual walls, too feverish to remember why youâd been avoiding him, you whispered back: âDonât leave?â
His hand stilled in your hair for just a moment. Then: âIâm not going anywhere. Promise.â
You believed him. And with his scent surrounding you, his presence solid and real beside you, you finally fell into a deeper, more restful sleep.
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
[Several Hours Later]
You woke to the smell of soup.
Not just any soupâthe kind Sylus made from scratch, the recipe heâd learned from his grandmother that he only made for special occasions. Rich and savory and exactly what your body was craving.
Your fever had broken sometime while you slept. You still felt weak and achy, but the worst of it had passed. Carefully, you sat up, your ears perking slightly as you registered that the smell was coming from the kitchen.
He was cooking. For you.
Your tail curled around your waist as you slowly stood, pulling on a hoodie over your sleep shirt because you were still chilled. Your legs felt shaky, but you managed to make it to your bedroom door and down the hallway.
The sight that greeted you in the kitchen made your heart clench painfully in your chest.
Sylus stood at the stove, his back to you, hair slightly mussed like heâd been running his hands through it. Heâd changed into a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants, casual and domestic in a way that shouldnât have been as devastating as it was. His tail swayed slowly behind him as he stirred the pot, and you could see the concentration in the set of his shoulders.
He was cooking for you. Taking care of you. Had probably been worried about you all day.
âYou should be in bed, kitten.â
You startledâyou hadnât made a sound, but of course his wolf hearing had picked up on your presence anyway. He turned to look at you over his shoulder, and the gentle reproach in his expression was undermined by the obvious relief in his eyes at seeing you up and moving.
âI smelled food,â you said weakly, leaning against the doorframe because your legs were already protesting. âWanted to see what you were making.â
âSoup.â He turned fully now, and you saw he was holding a wooden spoon, looking unfairly attractive for someone whoâd probably spent the last several hours playing nurse. âAnd you should be resting, not wandering around the apartment.â
âIâve been in bed all day.â You took a tentative step into the kitchen. âNeeded to move.â
His eyes tracked your unsteady movement, and something flickered across his face. âYouâre still weak.â
âIâm fine.â
âYouâre not fine. Youâre sick.â But even as he said it, he was setting down the spoon and closing the distance between you. His hands found your waist, steadying you, and the warmth of his touch seeped through your hoodie. âStubborn kitten. Come on.â
Before you could protest, he was guiding you to one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, his hands firm but gentle. You let him, mostly because your legs were grateful for the excuse to stop supporting your weight.
âStay,â he ordered, pointing at you with mock sternness that was ruined by the fondness in his eyes. âIâm almost done.â
You watched him move around the kitchen with practiced ease, ladling soup into a bowl, cutting fresh bread, pouring water. The whole scene was so devastatingly domestic that it made your chest ache. This is what it would be like, some traitorous part of your brain whispered. If you were his. If he was yours. This easy intimacy, this care, every day.
âStop looking at me like that,â Sylus said without turning around, but you could hear the smile in his voice.
Your ears flattened in embarrassment. âLike what?â
âLike Iâm doing something extraordinary.â He set the bowl of soup in front of you, along with the bread and water. âItâs just soup, kitten.â
But it wasnât just soup. It was him spending hours making something from scratch because you were sick. It was him staying by your side all day, taking care of you, worrying about you. It was him looking at you now like you were something precious, something worth taking care of.
âThank you,â you said softly, and you meant for so much more than just the soup.
Something in his expression softened. âAlways.â
He leaned against the counter across from you, arms crossed over his chest, watching as you took your first spoonful. The soup was perfectâof course it wasâand you couldnât stop the small sound of appreciation that escaped you.
His eyes darkened slightly at the sound, and you watched his jaw tighten. âGood?â
âReally good.â You took another spoonful, then paused. âHave you eaten?â
âIâm fine.â
âSylus.â
âI wanted to make sure you ate first.â But at your lookâyou might be sick, but you could still give him the eyebrow raise that meant âIâm not buying itââhe sighed. âIâll eat after.â
âEat with me,â you said, and it came out smaller than youâd intended. More vulnerable. âPlease?â
For a moment, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Then he nodded, moved to get his own bowl, and settled onto the stool beside you.
You ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and you were acutely aware of how close he was. Close enough that your tails could touch if either of you moved slightly. Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.
âYou scared me,â he said suddenly, quietly.
You looked up to find him staring at his soup, his jaw tight. âWhat?â
âWhen I came in and you were that feverish. Not responding properly. Your scent was all wrongââ He stopped, shook his head. âI know itâs just a cold or flu or whatever. I know youâre fine. But for a second, IâŚâ He trailed off, his hands gripping his spoon too tightly.
Your heart clenched. âSylusââ
âI donât like seeing you hurt. Or sick. Or in pain.â He finally looked at you, and the raw honesty in his eyes stole your breath. âI know I donât have any right to feel that protective of you. I know weâre just friends. But I canâtââ He stopped again, seeming to struggle with the words. âI canât stand it. The thought of something happening to you.â
âYou have every right,â you said before you could think better of it, your fever-weakened filters failing you completely. âYouâre my best friend. Of course youâre allowed to worry.â
The moment the words left your mouth, you saw itâthe tiny flinch, so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tightened, and something shuttered in his expression. His shoulders tensed, then deliberately relaxed, like he was forcing himself to compose. His ears flicked back for just a second before returning to their neutral position.
He turned back to his soup, his movements careful and controlled. âRight. Your best friend.â
The words were even, toneless, and somehow that made them worse. Made the sudden distance between you feel like a chasm even though he was sitting right there.
You didnât understand what youâd said wrong. Didnât understand why the air had suddenly gone cold, why he wouldnât look at you anymore, why his tail had gone completely still behind himâa sign of a wolf hybrid keeping tight control over their reactions.
âSylus?â you tried, your voice small.
He was quiet for a long moment, and you watched him take a slow breath. Then another. When he finally looked at you again, something had shiftedânot back to how it was before, but to something softer. Resigned, maybe. But gentle.
âSorry,â he said, and his voice was warmer now, even if there was something sad underneath it. âJust⌠worried about you. Thatâs all.â
That wasn't all. You knew it wasnât. But you were too tired and confused to push, and he was clearly trying to smooth over whatever moment had just happened.
âFinish your soup,â he said, and this time there was a hint of his usual teasing. âCanât have you getting worse on my watch.â
The tension eased slightly, and you found yourself relaxing despite the confusion still swirling in your fever-fogged brain. You both finished eating in a more comfortable silence, and gradually the warmth between you began to return. Not quite the same as beforeâthere was something bittersweet in the air nowâbut better than that awful coldness.
âI should get you back to bed,â he said finally, standing and offering his hand with a small smile that didnât quite reach his eyes. âYou need rest.â
âIâm not that tiredââ
âLiar. Your ears are drooping.â
You hadnât even noticed, but he was right. Your traitorous ears were folded with fatigue, giving you away. âMaybe a little tired.â
âCome on.â Before you could stand yourself, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you like you weighed nothing. You should have been embarrassed, should have insisted you could walk. Instead, you let yourself curl into his chest, your face tucked against his neck, breathing in his scent.
His arms tightened around you almost imperceptibly, and you felt him press his face briefly into your hair, right between your ears. âStubborn kitten,â he murmured, and there was so much fondness in his voice it made your chest ache. âAlways trying to be strong even when you donât have to be.â
âI can walk,â you protested weakly, but you made no move to leave his arms.
âI know you can.â He carried you down the hall with ease. âDoesnât mean you should.â
He shouldered open your bedroom door and carried you to your bed, laying you down with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his size and strength. His hands lingered as he tucked the blankets around you, smoothing them down with unnecessary care.
âThere,â he said softly, and when you looked up at him, his expression had gone tender again. Unguarded. Like whatever wall heâd put up earlier had crumbled. âComfortable?â
You nodded, suddenly unable to speak around the lump in your throat. He was being so careful with you, so gentle, and you didnât understand how he could look at you like thatâlike you were something preciousâwhile accepting that heâd only ever be your friend.
His hand came up to brush against your cheek, his thumb tracing a feather-light path across your skin. âYour feverâs down,â he observed. âThatâs good.â
âSylus,â you whispered, not even sure what you wanted to say.
âShh.â His hand moved to your hair, fingers carefully combing through the strands, mindful of your sensitive ears. âJust rest now. You can overthink everything later when youâre feeling better.â
A weak laugh escaped you. âYou know me too well.â
âYeah.â Something flickered in his eyesâfond and sad and resigned all at once. âI do.â
His hand continued its soothing path through your hair, and you felt your eyes growing heavy despite yourself. The fever, the emotional exhaustion, the warmth of his touchâit was all pulling you under.
âStay?â The word slipped out before you could stop it.
You felt him hesitate, felt the war happening in him. Then the mattress dipped as he sat beside you, his back against your headboard, his hand never leaving your hair.
âUntil you fall asleep,â he said quietly. âThen I need to clean up the kitchen.â
His hand found yours under the blankets, fingers intertwining, and that small point of contact felt more intimate than anything youâd ever experienced.
âSylus?â you mumbled, already feeling sleep pulling at you.
âYeah, kitten?â
You wanted to ask what had happened earlier. Wanted to ask why heâd looked so hurt, why calling him your best friend had felt like the wrong thing to say. Wanted to understand the resignation in his eyes.
But your thoughts were getting fuzzy, and the words wouldnât come. So instead you just squeezed his hand weakly and whispered, âThank you. For everything.â
His hand tightened around yours, and you felt him lean down, his lips pressing gently to your forehead in a kiss that felt like goodbye and forever all at once.
âAlways,â he murmured against your skin. âIâll always take care of you. Thatâs⌠thatâs what Iâm here for.â
There was something in his voiceâsomething that sounded like acceptance of a role he didnât want but would take anyway. Like he was making peace with being your friend when he wanted to be something more.
But you were too far gone to process it, sleep dragging you down into darkness.
The last thing you registered was his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand, and his quiet voice, so soft you might have imagined it:
âEven if itâs all I ever get to be.â
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
You woke to sunlight streaming through your curtains and the realization that you felt significantly better. The fever had broken completely, the ache in your body reduced to a dull soreness, and your head was finally clear.
Clear enough to remember everything from yesterday.
The soup. The conversation in the kitchen. The way heâd tensed when you called him your best friend. The way heâd composed himself and been gentle with you anyway. The forehead kiss. The way heâd held your hand until you fell asleep.
That last thing heâd saidâhad you dreamed that? Even if itâs all I ever get to be.
Your heart raced as the memories solidified, as you tried to make sense of his reactions. Why had calling him your friend upset him? UnlessâŚ
Unless he wanted to be something more.
The thought made your breath catch, made hope flutter dangerously in your chest. But noâthat couldnât be right. He brought people home all the time. Heâd never shown any sign of wanting you that way.
Except⌠except for the way he looked at you sometimes. The way he touched you. The careful way he took care of you. The hurt in his eyes when you called him your friend.
Even if itâs all I ever get to be.
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
You stood in the kitchen, phone clutched in your trembling hand, staring at the little red dot on your tracking app like it might disappear if you glared at it hard enough.
Ovulation tomorrow. Heat cycle begins in approximately 24 hours.
Your ears flattened against your head as dread pooled in your stomach. It wasnât the heat itself that had your tail bristling with anxietyâyouâd been through plenty of cycles before, knew how to manage them, stock up on supplies, lock yourself in your room with enough water and snacks to last the three or four days until it passed.
No, what made your hands shake was the shared calendar glowing on the tablet mounted to the kitchen wall.
Youâd pulled it up with some vague idea of marking off the dates youâd need to yourself, maybe giving Sylus a heads up that youâd be unavailable for a few days. A courtesy, since you lived together. Nothing unusual about that.
Except when youâd opened the calendar, youâd seen it.
Sylus - Rut Cycle
Starting tomorrow. The exact same day as your heat.
âNo,â you whispered to the empty kitchen, your tail puffing up in distress. âNo, no, no, this canâtââ
But it was right there in his careful handwriting from when heâd logged it weeks ago. Wolf hybrids were meticulous about tracking their ruts, especially ones like Sylus who prided themselves on control. He would have marked it the moment he felt the pre-rut symptoms starting.
And it aligned perfectlyâhorrificallyâwith your heat.
Your claws extended involuntarily, pricking into your palms as you tried to steady your breathing. This was fine. This was⌠manageable. Youâd just have to tell him. Simple. Youâd walk to his room right now, knock on his door, and calmly explain that youâd both need to make arrangements. Maybe one of you could stay somewhere else for a few days. Maybe you couldâ
The thought of telling him made your stomach twist into knots.
Because how exactly were you supposed to have that conversation?
âHey Sylus, funny story, but weâre both going into heat and rut tomorrow, so maybe one of us should leave because I absolutely cannot be around you while my body is screaming for a mate and you smell like everything Iâve ever wantedâ?
You pressed your hands to your heated face, ears flat against your skull.
No. Absolutely not. You couldnât tell him.
You glanced down the hallway toward his closed bedroom door. Light still seeped out from underneathâhe was working late again, had mentioned something about a project deadline when youâd seen him briefly at dinner. Heâd barely looked up from his laptop, too focused to notice the way your scent had already started changing, that pre-heat sweetness that cat hybrids gave off.
Or maybe he had noticed and was too polite to mention it.
Your tail lashed anxiously behind you as you looked back at the calendar, at those two overlapping markers that felt like a countdown to disaster.
The thing was, heats were already hard enough to deal with on their own. The fever, the desperate ache, the way your body craved touch and comfort and things you absolutely should not be thinking about. Youâd spent every heat cycle since moving in with Sylus locked in your room, music turned up high, trying desperately not to think about the fact that he was just down the hall. Trying not to imagine what it would feel like if heâ
No. You couldnât go there.
But this? This was so much worse.
Because Sylus going through his rut at the same time meant the entire apartment would reek of alpha wolf pheromones. Dominant, possessive, claiming pheromones specifically designed to call to omegas and send compatible mates into a frenzy.
And you, going through heat, would be so sensitive to his scent youâd probably lose your mind.
Cat hybrids were already more susceptible to wolf pheromones than other speciesâsomething about the predator-prey dynamic made the biological response even stronger. Youâd read about it once, in a textbook youâd immediately regretted opening. How prey hybrids in heat could become almost⌠fixated on nearby predator hybrids in rut. Especially ones they were already close to.
Especially ones they were already in love with.
âThis is bad,â you muttered, setting your phone down on the counter with shaking hands. âThis is really, really bad.â
You should tell him. You knew you should. This was important, something roommates needed to coordinate. He deserved to know so he could make his own arrangements, maybe stay at a friendâs place or book a hotel room for a few days.
Your fingers hovered over your phone, pulling up your messages with him.
We need to talk about something important
You typed it out, stared at it, then deleted it.
Hey, so about tomorrowâŚ
Delete.
I just checked the calendar and I think we have a problem
Delete.
âGod, why is this so hard?â you whispered, your tail wrapping around your waist in that self-protective gesture youâd been doing all day.
Because you knew why. Because telling him meant acknowledging it. Meant sitting across from him and discussing heats and ruts and biological needs while pretending you werenât desperately in love with him. Meant watching his expression shutter with professionalism while he matter-of-factly discussed sleeping arrangements, like the thought of you in heat didnât affect him at all.
And you werenât sure you could handle that. Couldnât handle seeing confirmation that while your body would be screaming for him specifically, heâd just be dealing with a rutâa biological inconvenience that any willing partner could help with. It wouldnât mean anything to him.
Your ears swiveled toward his room at the sound of his chair scraping, footsteps moving around. Working, like heâd said. Oblivious to the crisis you were currently having in the kitchen.
Maybe⌠maybe you didnât need to tell him.
The thought crept in treacherously, and you immediately felt guilty for even considering it. Butâ
But youâd handled heats before on your own. You had supplies, you knew the drill. Youâd just lock yourself in your room, ride it out like always. Sure, it would be worse with him in rut down the hall, his scent probably seeping under your door and driving you absolutely insane, but you could handle it.
You were strong. You had self-control.
And telling him would just make everything awkward. Would create this âthingâ between you that youâd have to navigate afterward. Heâd probably insist on leaving, on being a gentleman about it, and then youâd feel guilty for driving him out of his own home. Or worse, heâd stay and treat you with kid gloves for weeks afterward, carefully avoiding you like you were something fragile.
No. Better to just⌠not say anything.
Youâd deal with your heat quietly, behind your locked bedroom door. Heâd deal with his rut the way he always didâprobably by calling one of his regular hookups, inviting them over to help him through it. The thought made your claws extend painfully, jealousy and hurt lancing through your chest, but that was fine. You were used to that pain.
At least this way, heâd never know. Never know that youâd spent three or four days in heat just down the hall, your body aching for him specifically while he was with someone else.
God, this was going to be torture.
Your phone buzzed with a text, and you nearly jumped out of your skin.
Sylus: You still up?
Your heart hammered as you stared at the message. He never texted when he was working unlessâ
Sylus: Thought I heard you in the kitchen. Everything okay?
Of course. Wolf hearing. Heâd probably heard you muttering to yourself, heard the distress in your voice even through his closed door.
Your fingers trembled as you typed back:
You: Yeah, all good! Just getting some water. Donât let me distract you from work âşď¸
The emoji felt forced, but you needed him to think everything was normal.
Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then it appeared again.
Sylus: Your scent just spiked with anxiety. Whatâs wrong?
You closed your eyes, cursing his too-perceptive wolf senses. Of course he could smell your emotional state from his room. Of course.
You: Nothing! Just remembered I have a deadline coming up for a writing assignment at work. Already stressing about it lol
You: Go back to work! Iâm heading to bed soon anyway
Please believe it. Please just let it go.
Sylus: Okay. But if you need anything, Iâm here. You know that.
Your chest constricted painfully.
You: I know. Thank you đ
You stared at the heart emoji youâd added without thinking, then quickly locked your phone before you could spiral into analyzing whether that was too much.
Moving quickly, you erased your name from the calendar for the next four days, leaving the space blank. If Sylus lookedâwhich he probably wouldnât, too buried in workâhe wouldnât see anything unusual. Wouldnât know.
Then you grabbed your phone and retreated to your room, closing the door firmly behind you and leaning against it.
Tomorrow. Heat started tomorrow.
And Sylus would be in rut.
In the same apartment.
Your tail lashed anxiously as you looked around your room, mentally cataloging what youâd need. Water bottlesâyouâd need to stock up. Snacks that didnât require leaving your room. Maybe some ice packs for the fever. Definitely your noise-canceling headphones for when he inevitably brought someone home to help him through his rut, because you absolutely could not handle hearing that while you were in heat.
Your phone buzzed with another message:
Sylus: Get some sleep, kitten. And stop overthinking whateverâs got you stressed. Itâll be okay.
If only he knew.
You typed back a quick good night, then flopped onto your bed, staring at the ceiling as your mind raced.
Twenty-four hours. Thatâs all you had to prepare.
Twenty-four hours until youâd be locked in your room, burning with heat, while the man you loved was down the hall going through his rut.
You buried your face in your pillow, letting out a muffled sound of frustration.
This was going to be the longest four days of your life.
Your phone lit up one more time with a final text from Sylus:
Sylus: Sweet dreams.
You stared at those two words until they blurred, your heart aching.
âYeah,â you whispered to your empty room, your tail curling protectively around yourself. âSweet dreams.â
Like youâd be getting any sleep tonight.
Not when tomorrow would turn your apartment into your own personal hell, and Sylus would go through his rut without ever knowing what it was doing to you.
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
The next day, you left the apartment before dawn, slipping out while Sylus was still asleep. You couldnât risk running into him, couldnât trust yourself to act normal when you could already feel the first warning signs of your heat beginning to stir beneath your skinâa restless energy, a sensitivity that made your clothes feel too rough, a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature.
You spent the early morning hours methodically gathering everything youâd need for the next few days. The essentials came first: your favorite comfort foods, drinks, and enough water to stock a small convenience store. You didnât leave anything out, moving through your mental checklist with single-minded focus because focusing on the task kept you from thinking about what was coming, about who was waiting at home.
Your last stop was the one that made heat crawl up your neck despite the early hour. The sex shop on the corner of Fifth and Main was blessedly empty, and you kept your ears tucked low as you quickly selected another vibratorâa backup for when your other toys inevitably needed to recharge. The knowing look the clerk gave you made your tail bristle with embarrassment, but you forced yourself to maintain eye contact as you paid. You werenât ashamed. You shouldnât be ashamed.
Yes, you were a virgin cat hybrid, but that didnât mean you were clueless about your own body, about what you enjoyed or needed. Just because you were inexperienced with partners didnât mean you couldnât indulge in your own sexuality, couldnât take care of yourself during your heats. Youâd learned years ago what worked, what helped ease the ache even if it never fully satisfied the way your instincts insisted a mate would.
A mate likeâ
No. You couldnât think about that.
By the time youâd finished your errands, the sun had fully risen and you could feel your heat beginning in earnest. It started subtlyâa slight fever warming your skin, a heightened awareness of every scent and sound around you, a restless ache low in your belly that you knew would only get worse. Your body was preparing, responding to the hormonal surge that came with ovulation, and you needed to get home. Needed to lock yourself away before it became obvious, before your scent grew too sweet and telling.
Home. You had to go home.
Home to Sylus.
The thought sent a spike of longing through you so intense it nearly stole your breath, and you had to grip your shopping bags tighter to ground yourself. This was exactly why you needed to get back, needed to barricade yourself in your room before your heat-addled brain did something catastrophic like seek him out.
But with each step closer to the apartment, anxiety bubbled up inside you, rising like a tide you couldnât hold back. Your ears kept swiveling anxiously, your tail couldnât stay still, and your hands trembled slightly as you climbed the stairs to your floor. What if he was there? What if he could already smell the change in you, the pre-heat sweetness that was undoubtedly growing stronger by the minute? What if he looked at you with pity, or worseâwith clinical concern, like you were a problem to be managed?
Your key fumbled against the lock twice before you finally managed to open the door.
The apartment was silent.
Empty.
You stood in the doorway, bags clutched in your hands, ears perked and straining for any sound of movement. Nothing. Just the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic from the street below.
Relief flooded through you firstâthank god, you wouldnât have to face him, wouldnât have to pretend everything was normal while your body burned and your instincts screamed.
But then the relief curdled into something heavier, something that settled in your chest like a stone.
What if heâd left? What if heâd packed a bag and gone somewhere else to ride out his rutâa hotel, maybe, or a friendâs place? What if heâd called one of his regular partners, arranged to spend the next few days with them somewhere far away from you?
The thought made your claws extend involuntarily, jealousy and hurt lancing through you even though you had no right to either emotion. This was what youâd wanted, wasnât it? For him to be gone, to not have to deal with him being in rut just down the hall?
Except now the apartment felt too empty, too quiet, and the thought of him wrapped around someone else, helping them through their heat while he worked through his rut, made you feel physically ill.
Your tail drooped as you carried your bags to your room, ears flat against your head. This was fine. This was better, actually. Easier.
It didnât feel easier.
You kept your door open as you methodically unpacked everything, needing to finish before your heat progressed further. Comfort foods went on your nightstand within easy reach. Water bottles lined up on your desk. The new vibrator, still in its package, got tucked into your bedside drawer along with your other suppliesâthe ones youâd collected over the years, the ones that helped but never quite enough.
Your mini fridge, a recent purchase youâd justified as necessary for late-night writing sessions, was now packed with drinks and anything perishable. Youâd thought of everything. You were prepared.
You were fine.
The heat was building steadily now, making your skin feel too tight, too sensitive. Your clothes were becoming unbearableâevery seam and tag felt like it was scraping against your skin. You stripped down to just a thin pink tank top and sleep shorts, the least amount of fabric you could get away with, and finally collapsed onto your bed.
The sheets were cool against your feverish skin, and you pressed your face into your pillow with a shuddering breath. You could do this. Youâd done it before. Just a few days and it would be over.
Thatâs when you heard itâthe sound of the front door opening.
Your entire body went rigid, ears shooting up and swiveling toward the sound. Footsteps in the entryway, familiar and achingly known. Your bedroom door was still openâyouâd been about to get up and lock it whenâ
His scent hit you like a physical blow.
Pine and earth and something darker, muskier, unmistakably wolf and unmistakably Sylusâbut stronger now. Heavier. Richer. The scent seemed to fill the entire apartment, seeping into your room and wrapping around you like a living thing.
Rut. He was in rut.
And he was here.
Your heat-primed body responded instantly, devastatingly. The ache low in your belly intensified into something almost painful, your skin flushing hotter, and you felt your body start producing that telltale slickness that came with arousal. A soft, needy sound escaped your throat before you could stop itâsomewhere between a whimper and a purrâand you immediately bit down on your pillow to muffle any further sounds.
No. No, no, no. This wasnât supposed to happen. He wasnât supposed to be here.
You forced yourself to move despite how much your body protested, stumbling to your door on shaky legs. Your hands trembled as you reached for the handle, trying to be quiet, trying not to draw his attention to the fact that you were home.
But it was too late.
âKitten?â His voice drifted down the hallway, rougher than usual, with that gravelly quality that rut brought to wolf hybrids. âThat you?â
You froze, hand on your door handle, every muscle in your body locked up with tension. He could probably already smell youâyour heat scent mixing with his rut pheromones in the air between you. There was no hiding it now.
âY-yeah,â you managed, hating how breathless you sounded. âJust⌠just got back.â
Silence. Then footsteps, coming closer, and your heart launched into your throat.
âYou okay? You soundââ He stopped, and you could pinpoint the exact moment he scented you properly, when the reality of the situation clicked into place. ââŚFuck.â
The single word, rough and low and edged with something that might have been hunger, sent a shiver down your spine straight to your core.
You should close the door. Lock it. Put a barrier between you and the wolf hybrid in rut whose scent was making you dizzy with want.
Instead, you stood frozen, fingers gripping the door frame, as his footsteps brought him closer to your room.
This was bad.
This was so, so bad.
And some traitorous part of youâthe part ruled by heat and instinct and years of suppressed longingâthought it might be exactly what youâd been waiting for.
You should close the door. Lock it. Put a barrier between you and the wolf hybrid in rut whose scent was making you dizzy with want.
Instead, you stood frozen, fingers gripping the door frame, as his footsteps brought him closer to your room.
And then he was there.
Sylus appeared in your doorway, and the sight of him nearly brought you to your knees.
His silver hair was disheveled like heâd been running his hands through it, his ruby eyes were darker than youâd ever seen themâpupils blown wide with heat. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and you could see the tension in every line of his body, the way his muscles were coiled tight like he was physically restraining himself. His wolf ears were pinned back, and his tail was rigid behind himâsigns of a predator barely holding onto control.
He looked wrecked. Devastating. Dangerous.
And he was staring at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
âYouâre in heat,â he said, his voice even rougher than before, gravelly in a way that did absolutely nothing to help your situation. It wasnât a question.
You nodded mutely, not trusting your voice, your fingers digging into the doorframe hard enough that your claws left small marks in the wood.
His eyes tracked the movement, then traveled over youâtaking in your flushed skin, your thin clothing, the way you were trembling slightly. His nostrils flared, scenting you, and a low sound rumbled from his chest that went straight through you.
âWhy didnât you tell me?â There was something raw in his voice, almost hurt. âI would haveâI could have made arrangements, Iââ He stopped, his jaw clenching. âFuck, kitten, I wouldnât have come back here if Iâd known. This isââ
âI didnât know youâd be here,â you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. âI thought youâd left. Thought youâd go somewhere else for your rut.â
Something flashed across his expressionâsurprise, maybe, or confusion. âWhy would I leave?â
*Because thatâs what you always do,* you thought. *Because youâd rather be anywhere else than deal with this kind of intimacy with me.*
But you couldnât say that. Couldnât reveal how much youâd thought about it, how much the idea of him with someone else during his rut had shredded you.
âSylus,â you breathed, and even you could hear the desperation creeping into your voice. âYou need to go. Please. This isâitâs too much, I canâtââ
âI know.â He took a step back, and you saw how much it cost him, saw the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. âI know. Iâm sorry. Iâll go to my room, Iâll stay there, I wonâtââ His eyes squeezed shut briefly. âYou wonât even know Iâm here. I promise.â
But that was the problem, wasnât it? You would know. Would feel him down the hall, would smell him, would lie in your bed aching and burning and knowing he was so close, knowing he was going through his rut alone just like you were suffering through your heat alone.
âYou should leave,â you said, even though the words felt like they were being torn from your chest. âThe apartment. You should go somewhere else. A hotel orâor call someone who couldââ You couldnât finish that sentence, couldnât voice the image of him with someone else even though it was killing you.
His eyes snapped open, and there was something fierce in them now, something possessive that made your breath catch. âNo.â
âSylusââ
âIâm not leaving you alone during your heat,â he said, his voice dropping into something that was almost a growl. âAnd Iâm sure as hell not calling anyone else. I donâtââ He cut himself off, shaking his head like he was trying to clear it. âJust⌠stay in your room. Iâll stay in mine. We can do this.â
Could you? Could you really survive the next few days knowing he was so close, knowing all you had to do was walk down the hall andâ
No. You couldnât think like that.
âOkay,â you whispered, your tail wrapping tight around your waist. âOkay.â
He stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable in his expression. Then he took another step back, putting more distance between you, and you hated how much you wanted to close that distance, wanted toâ
âLock your door,â he said roughly. âPlease. Because if you donât, if I smell you like this all night, I wonâtââ His voice cracked slightly. âI wonât be able to stay away. And you deserve better thanâthan me losing control because of biology.â
Your heart clenched. Even now, even in rut, he was trying to protect you. Trying to be good, to be respectful, to give you the choice.
If only he knew that youâd choose him. Would always choose him. That there was no one else you wanted, rut or no rut, heat or no heat.
But you just nodded, watched him retreat down the hallway to his room, heard his door close with a finality that echoed through the apartment.
And then you were alone.
You closed your door. Locked it like heâd asked. Then collapsed against it, sliding down to sit on the floor as your whole body trembled.
This was going to be impossible.
âŠâË .ââžâ âşââ§
[Later that night]
Youâd tried everything.
The vibrator helped for maybe ten minutes before the ache came roaring back twice as strong. The cold shower had been a mistakeâyour skin was too sensitive, every drop of water feeling like too much. Youâd attempted to sleep but gave up after an hour of tossing and turning, your sheets soaked with sweat and twisted around your legs.
Nothing worked. Nothing helped.
Because your body knew what it wanted, and it wasnât any of your usual coping mechanisms.
It wanted him.
Sylus. Just down the hall. Going through his rut while you burned through your heat, and the cruel irony of it was almost too much to bear.
You could smell him even through your locked doorâhis scent had permeated the entire apartment, rich and heavy and making your head spin. Could hear him too, your sensitive cat hearing picking up every sound from his room. The creak of his bed. His footsteps pacing. Once, a low groan that had sent heat flooding through you so intensely youâd nearly blacked out.
He was suffering too. You knew he was. And knowing that you were both suffering separately, alone, when you could beâ
No. You couldnât think like that.
But your heat-fogged brain wouldnât let it go. Kept circling back to the same thoughts: *Heâs right there. He needs help. You need help. This is biology. It doesnât have to mean anything. You could help each other and then pretend it never happened andâ*
Except it would mean something. To you, it would mean everything. And when it was over, when the heat and rut faded and reality came crashing back, youâd have to live with the fact that youâd had him once and would never have him again.
That might actually destroy you.
A sound from his room made your ears perk upâsomething between a growl and a groan, frustrated and pained. Then footsteps, heavy and deliberate.
You froze, every muscle in your body going tense as you heard his door open.
Footsteps in the hallway. Coming closer.
Your heart hammered against your ribs as you heard him stop outside your door. There was a long moment of silence, and you could picture him standing there, fist raised to knock, fighting with himself.
âKitten.â His voice was wrecked, strained. âAre you⌠are you okay?â
The concern in his voice, even now, even when he was clearly barely holding it together, made your chest constrict painfully.
âIâm fine,â you lied, your voice coming out shakier than youâd intended.
âLiar.â A soft thump against your doorâhis forehead, maybe, or his fist. âI can hear you. Smell you. Youâre not fine.â
You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your hands over your face. âNeither are you.â
A rough laugh, completely devoid of humor. âNo. Iâm really not.â
Silence stretched between you, heavy with everything unsaid. You were both on opposite sides of the same door, suffering, wanting, unable to cross that final barrier.
âI should have left,â he said finally, quietly. âShould have gone to a hotel like you said. This is⌠fuck, this is torture.â
âWhy didnât you?â The question slipped out before you could stop it. âWhy did you stay?â
Another long silence. Then: âBecause I couldnât. Couldnât stand the thought of you here alone, in heat, vulnerable. What if something happened? What if you needed something and I wasnât here?â His voice dropped even lower. âAnd I⌠I couldnât go to anyone else. Not whenââ
He stopped abruptly, like heâd caught himself about to say too much.
âNot when what?â Your hand was on the door handle now, trembling.
âNothing. Forget it. I shouldâI should go back to my room.â
But he didnât move. You could feel him there, could sense his presence on the other side of the door like a physical thing.
Your heat-addled brain was screaming at you to open the door. Your heart was screaming something else entirelyâsomething that sounded dangerously like tell him tell him tell him.
âSylus.â Your voice cracked on his name. âI canât⌠I canât do this anymore.â
âI know. Iâm sorry. Iâll goââ
âNo.â Your hand turned the lock before you could second-guess yourself. âThatâs not what I mean.â
The door swung open, and suddenly there he was, so close you could see the war happening behind his eyes. His rut pheromones washed over you in full force now, unfiltered by the door, and it took every ounce of self-control not to simply throw yourself at him.
He looked as wrecked as you feltâhair a mess, skin flushed, eyes wild and desperate. His chest was bare, just sleep pants slung low on his hips, and you could see how tense every muscle was, how hard he was fighting his instincts.
âKitten,â he breathed, and it sounded like a warning and a plea all at once. âDonât. Please. If you⌠if youâre too close, I wonât be able toââ
âIâm in love with you.â
The words tumbled out in a rush, propelled by heat and desperation and years of keeping them locked inside. And once they started, you couldnât stop them.
âIâve been in love with you for years. Since the library. Since that first day when you saved me and smiled at me and made me feel safe for the first time in my life.â Your voice was shaking, tears already gathering in your eyes because this was it, you were ruining everything, but you couldnât stop. âAnd I knowâI know you donât feel the same way. I know Iâm notâIâm not what you want. Not experienced enough, not confident enough, just⌠not enough.â
The tears spilled over, tracking hot down your cheeks, and you saw his expression crack, saw something like anguish flash across his face.
âEvery time you brought someone home, it killed me,â you continued, your voice breaking. âEvery time I heard you with someone else, I wanted to die because it wasnât me. It was never me. And I triedâI tried so hard not to feel this way, tried to be happy just being your friend, but I canât anymore. I canât keep pretending that this doesnât hurt, that watching you with other people doesnât destroy me.â
You were full-on crying now, your shoulders shaking with sobs, your ears flat against your head. âAnd I know this is the worst possible time to tell you this. I know itâs just the heat talking and you probably think Iâm pathetic and Iâve ruined everything, but I couldnâtâI canât keep lying. Not when youâre right here and I want you so badly it physically hurts and I know I canât have you because Iâm notâIâm notââ
âStop.â
His hands were on your face suddenly, cupping your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. And what you saw there stole your breathânot pity, not discomfort, but something raw and desperate and achingly tender.
âStop saying youâre not enough,â he said, his voice fierce despite how gentle his touch was. âStop saying I donât want you. You have no ideaââ His thumb brushed away your tears, and his own eyes looked suspiciously bright. âGod, kitten, you have no idea how wrong you are.â
Your breath hitched, your heart stuttering in your chest. âWhat?â
âThose people I brought home? I was trying to forget you.â His voice cracked slightly, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. âTrying to convince myself that if I just found the right person, if I just tried hard enough, these feelings would go away. That I could stop wanting my best friend, stop dreaming about someone who deserved so much better than me.â
âSylusââ you whispered, but he shook his head.
âYou think youâre not experienced enough? Not confident enough? Kitten, youâre everything.â His hands trembled slightly against your face. âYouâre brilliant and kind and so fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes. And every time you smiled at someone else, every time I thought about you finding someone who could give you the relationship you deserved, someone who wasnât fucked up and broken andââ He stopped, taking a shuddering breath. âIâve been in love with you since that day in the library too. Maybe before. And I thoughtâI thought I was protecting you by staying away. Thought youâd be better off with someone who wasnât a wolf hybrid with too much baggage and a rut that made him dangerous.â
âYouâre not dangerous,â you said fiercely, your own hands coming up to grip his wrists. âNot to me. Never to me.â
âI wanted to be good enough for you,â he continued, like he needed to get all of it out. âWanted to be the kind of person who deserved someone like you. But Iâm not. Iâm selfish and possessive and the thought of anyone else touching you makes me want toââ He cut himself off, his jaw clenching. âAnd now youâre here, in heat, telling me you love me, and I can barely think straight because all I want is toââ
He didnât finish the sentence, but he didnât need to. You could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his hands tightened on your face.
âThen do it,â you whispered. âPlease. I donât want to spend another second pretending. I donât want perfection or whatever impossible standard youâve set for yourself. I just want you. Just this. Just us.â
For one breathless moment, he just stared at you, his eyes searching yours like he was looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that you didnât mean it. His thumbs continued their gentle path across your cheeks, wiping away the tears that wouldnât stop falling.
âYouâre crying,â he said softly, and there was so much tenderness in his voice it made your chest ache. Even now, even when you could see how much he wanted this, wanted you, he was being careful. Being gentle. âKitten, youâre shaking.â
âBecause Iâm scared,â you admitted, your voice breaking on the words. âIâm scared this is a dream. Iâm scared Iâll wake up and youâll be gone and this will have never happened and Iâll have to go back to pretending and I canâtââ A sob cut off your words, and you pressed your palms against his bare chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath your touch. âI canât go back to before. Not now. Not after finally telling you.â
Something in his expression crumbled, and he pulled you closer, one hand sliding to the back of your neck while the other wrapped around your waist. âThis isnât a dream,â he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours again. âIâm here. Iâm real. And Iâm not going anywhere. Not anymore.â
âPromise?â It came out so small, so vulnerable, and you hated how desperate you sounded but you needed to hear it.
âI promise.â He tilted your face up, making sure you could see the truth in his eyes. âIâve been an idiot. Been running from this, from you, because I was terrified. Terrified of not being good enough, of ruining our friendship, of you realizing you deserved better and leaving. But Iâm done running.â His voice dropped to something fierce, possessive. âYouâre mine. Youâve always been mine. And Iâve been yours since that day in the library when you looked up at me with those wide, scared eyes and I knewâI knew Iâd do anything to keep you safe.â
Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks, but these felt different. Felt like relief, like release, like seven years of aching finally being soothed.
âIâm yours,â you whispered back, and saying it out loud felt like shedding a weight youâd been carrying forever. âIâve always been yours.â
His pupils dilated at your words, and you felt the low rumble start in his chest againâthat wolf sound that meant contentment, possessiveness, mine. âSay it again.â
âIâm yours,â you repeated, your hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck. âOnly yours. I donât want anyone else. Iâve never wanted anyone else.â
âFuck,â he breathed, and you could see him visibly fighting for control, his whole body trembling with the effort. âYou canâtâyou canât say things like that to me right now. Not when Iâm in rut and youâre in heat and Iâm barely holding on as it is.â
âThen donât hold on,â you said, and you watched his eyes darken impossibly further. âI donât want you to hold back. Not anymore. I want all of you, Sylus. Everything youâve been keeping from me.â
âKitten.â It came out strained, almost pained. âIf we do thisâif we cross this lineâthereâs no going back. You understand that? I wonât be able to pretend anymore. Wonât be able to watch you walk around this apartment and not touch you, not kiss you, notââ He cut himself off with a harsh breath. âWolf hybrids, when we bond, when we claim someone as ours, itâs⌠itâs permanent. Especially during our ruts. The instinct to mark you, to make sure everyone knows youâre mineââ
âGood,â you interrupted, and his eyes snapped to yours in surprise. âI want that. Want everyone to know. Want you to stop bringing other people home because youâll have me. Want to stop pretending weâre just friends when we both know itâs always been more than that.â
He made a sound that was half-groan, half-growl, and you felt it reverberate through your entire body where you were pressed against him. âYou donât know what youâre asking for.â
âI do.â You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes fully, needing him to see how serious you were. âI know exactly what Iâm asking for. Iâm asking for you. All of you. Your rut, your instincts, your possessivenessâI want all of it. Because I love you. Not in spite of what you are, but because of it.â
Something shifted in his expression thenâthe last wall crumbling, the final thread of his control snapping. You saw the exact moment he stopped fighting himself, stopped fighting this, and surrendered to what you both wanted.
âTell me one more time,â he demanded, his voice gone rough and commanding in a way that sent shivers down your spine. âTell me you love me. That you want this. That youâre choosing me.â
âI love you,â you said, pouring every ounce of feeling into the words. âI want this. I want you. Iâm choosing you, Sylus. Today, tomorrow, always. Iâm yours, and I want you to be mine.â
âAlways have been,â he said, and there was something that looked almost like wonder in his eyes. âGod, kitten, Iâve been yours since the beginning. You just didnât know it.â
Then something in him broke.
He surged forward, closing the distance between you, and kissed you like he was dying and you were oxygen, like heâd been drowning for seven years and you were his first breath of air.
It wasnât gentle. Wasnât careful or tentative or any of the things a first kiss probably should be. It was desperate and hungry and rawâyears of suppressed longing, years of wanting and denying and pretending finally breaking free all at once. His lips crashed against yours with bruising intensity, claiming you, devouring you, and you gasped into his mouth at the sheer force of it, at the way it felt like everything youâd ever wanted and more.
Your hands flew up to tangle in his silver hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as you pulled him closer, closer, never close enough. You felt his wolf ears flatten slightly under your touchâsensitive and responsiveâand the small reaction made heat pool low in your belly.
He groaned against your lips, the sound vibrating through your entire body and straight to your core, and his hands slid from your tear-stained face to your waist, gripping you with a possessiveness that made you whimper. Then he was pulling you flush against him, eliminating every inch of space between your bodies, and the full-body contact made your knees weak.
His bare chest pressed against your thin tank topâyou could feel every defined plane of muscle, every rapid beat of his heart, the overwhelming heat of him seeping through the fabric and into your skin. His scent enveloped you completely, that pine and earth and pure wolf musk intensified by his rut, and it was so much stronger now, so overwhelming that all you could breathe was him, all you could feel was him.
Your heat-primed body responded instantly, desperately. Slickness pooled between your thighs, your skin flushed hotter, and a needy sound escaped your throatâsomewhere between a whimper and a purrâthat made him growl in response.
âFuck,â he gasped, breaking the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw with open-mouthed kisses that made you shudder. His tongue traced the line of your jaw before his teeth scraped gently against your skinânot quite biting, but the promise of itâand you moaned. âYou have no idea how long Iâve wanted this. Wanted you.â
He moved lower, finding the sensitive spot just below your ear, and when his lips closed over it, sucking gently, your claws extended involuntarily, pricking through his hair to his scalp. The small sting only seemed to encourage him, another growl rumbling from his chest.
âSame,â you managed breathlessly, tilting your head back to give him better access, your body arching into his of its own accord. Your tail wrapped around his leg possessively, and you felt his own tail brush against your hip. âGod, Sylus, Iâve wanted you for so longââ
His mouth moved to your throat, lips and teeth and tongue tracing patterns that made you tremble, and you could feel him breathing you in, scenting you. âYou smell so fucking good,â he murmured against your skin, his voice gone rough and gravelly with rut. âAlways smell good, but nowâfuck, kitten, youâre in heat and you smell like mine and I canâtââ
He kissed you again, swallowing whatever you were about to say, and this time it was somehow even more intense. Slower, deeper, but no less desperate. His tongue swept into your mouth and you met him eagerly, tasting himâsomething dark and rich and addictiveâlearning the shape of him, the texture, the way he kissed like he was trying to consume you whole.
You kissed him back just as fiercely, seven years of yearning finally finding an outlet, and when your tongue slid against his, when you sucked gently on his bottom lip, the sound he made was absolutely sinful.
Your back hit the doorframe suddenly and he pressed against you, caging you in with his larger body, and the feeling of being surrounded by himâhis scent, his warmth, his overwhelming presenceâmade you dizzy with want. Made your heat-addled brain short-circuit with how right it felt to be trapped between him and the wall, how safe and claimed and desired you felt.
His hands roamed your sides with a reverence that contradicted the hunger in his kiss, sliding under the hem of your tank top to finally, finally touch bare skin. His palms were rough and warm, and everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, nerve endings lighting up in his wake. He traced the curve of your waist, your ribs, his thumbs brushing just below your breastsâteasing, testingâand you arched into his touch with a whimper.
âSo soft,â he murmured against your lips, his hands continuing their exploration, mapping your body like he was memorizing every curve, every dip. âSo fucking perfect. Been dreaming about touching you like this. About what youâd feel like.â
His words made you bold. Your own hands left his hair to explore, sliding down his neck, over his shoulders, feeling the powerful muscles bunch and flex under your touch. Down his chest, your fingers tracing the defined lines of his abs, feeling them tense as you touched him. His skin was fever-hot, and you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palms.
âTell me to stop,â he breathed against your lips, even as his hands continued their exploration, even as he ground his hips against yours and you felt exactly how much he wanted you. The hard length of him pressed against your stomach made you gasp, made more slickness flood between your thighs. âTell me this is just the heat, just the rut, and IâllâIâll go back to my room, Iâllââ
âDonât you dare,â you said fiercely, fisting your hands in his hair and pulling him back down to you, crushing your lips against his with all the desperation you felt. âDonât you dare stop. This isnât just heat. This isnât just biology. This is me choosing you. Choosing this.â You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, to make sure he understood. âI love you, Sylus. Heat or no heat, rut or no rut, I love you. Iâve loved you for seven years and Iâll love you for seven more and an eternity more after that.â
His eyes blazed with something that looked almost like reverence, like worship, and his hands came up to cup your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. âI love you too,â he said, his voice rough with emotion. âSo fucking much. For so long.â His thumb brushed across your cheekbone, catching a tear you hadnât realized had fallen. âYouâre everything, kitten. Everything Iâve ever wanted. Everything I thought Iâd never deserve.â
âYou deserve this,â you whispered fiercely. âYou deserve to be loved. You deserve me just as much as I deserve you.â
Something in his expression cracked, and when he kissed you again, there was a tenderness beneath the hunger that made your heart feel like it might burst. He kissed you like you were precious, like you were his, like he was trying to pour seven years of love into this one moment.
You kissed him back with everything you had, your hands sliding up to cup the back of his neck, your fingers tangling in the hair there, one hand reaching up to gently scratch behind his wolf ear. He shuddered against you, a whine escaping his throat, and you felt a surge of feminine power at the reaction.
âSensitive,â you murmured against his lips, and did it again, your fingers gently stroking his ear.
âFuckââ His hips jerked against yours involuntarily, and his grip on you tightened. âYouâre going to kill me.â
âGood,â you breathed, and then you were kissing again, lost in each other, in the taste and feel and scent of finally, finally having what youâd both wanted for so long.
His hands slid down your back, over your hips, and then he was gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, gasping at the new position, at the way his cock pressed against you even more intimately. Your covered pussy, already aching and soaked, pressing against him. Your tail wrapped around his waist too, clinging to him, and his own tail curved around to brush against your leg.
âBedroom,â he growled against your mouth. âNeedâfuck, kitten, I need you so bad. I canât hold back anymore.â
âYes,â you gasped, and then he was carrying you, his lips never leaving yours, stumbling slightly as he navigated down the hallway, too consumed with kissing you to pay proper attention to where he was going.
He shouldered open his bedroom doorânot yours, hisâand the significance wasnât lost on you. His space. His scent everywhere. His den.
He laid you on his bed with a gentleness that contradicted the hunger in his eyes, following you down, covering your body with his. The weight of him, the heat, the feeling of being surrounded and covered and claimed made you moan, your back arching up into him.
âBeautiful,â he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at youâsprawled on his bed, your hair a mess, your lips swollen from his kisses, your chest heaving with rapid breaths. His eyes tracked over every inch of you like he was memorizing the sight. âSo fucking beautiful. And mine. Finally mine.â
âYours,â you agreed breathlessly, reaching up to pull him back down to you. âAlways yours. Just like youâre mine.â
âAlways have been,â he said, and then he was kissing you again, and you were kissing him back, and nothing else mattered except thisâ
Finally, finally having what youâd both been denying yourselves for years.
Finally coming home.
He kissed you with a heat that stole every breath from your lungs, his lips devouring yours with desperate need, raw passion, and something deeperâa promise of exactly what was to come, of how thoroughly he was about to claim you, mark you, make you his in every way that mattered.
The soft whine that escaped your throatâhigh and breathy and so distinctly cat-likeâonly spurred Sylus on further, feeding a fire in him that had been burning for seven years. That sound was addictive, intoxicating, the most beautiful thing heâd ever heard fall from your lips, and it made every wolf instinct in him roar with possessive satisfaction. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, desperate and needy, pulling him closer like you couldnât bear even an inch of space between you. Your hips shifted instinctively against his, seeking friction, seeking relief from the heat burning through you, and the moment your body pressed firmly into his groinâwhere you could feel exactly how hard and massive he was, how much he wanted youâa low, rough groan rumbled from deep in his chest, vibrating against your lips and making you shudder.
He pulled back slightly, lips parted and swollen, his pupils blown so wide his red eyes looked almost black. He looked like he was about to say something importantâbut you immediately chased his mouth, a needy mewl escaping you, your cat hybrid instincts refusing to let him go, refusing to lose that connection for even a second. His breath hitched sharply at your eagerness, at your complete inability to let him leave, and with a soft curse muttered against your skin, he brought his large hands up to cradle your face tenderly, his thumbs stroking your flushed cheeks.
He tried once, maybe twice, to pull away againâclearly intent on speaking, on saying whatever thought had crossed his lust-fogged mindâbut every single time he attempted it, he melted right back into you helplessly, like his lips werenât meant to be anywhere else but claiming yours. Like the rut coursing through him wouldnât allow him to stop touching you, tasting you, consuming you.
Eventually, he tore himself away with several lingering, reluctant kisses, finally managing to draw a full breath. His lips were thoroughly swollen, slick and glistening with your shared saliva, and his gazeâdark, glazed over completely with rut-driven desireâheld yours like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. You stared back at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly in perfect sync with his, both of you breathless and utterly consumed by each other. Your pupils were dilated too, your heat making you hypersensitive to every touch, every scent, every minute shift of his body against yours.
As your lips parted for another shaky inhale, you tasted nothing but himâthe intoxicating pine and musk scent of him invading your senses, the overwhelming feel of his body covering yours, the scorching heat radiating between you. And then, just as you began to steady yourself slightly, his tongue slid across your bottom lip, teasing, tasting, demanding entry with a dominance that made your toes curl. Your breath caught sharply in your throat before escaping in a needy, completely uninhibited mewl as his tongue slid against yoursâhot, slick, utterly possessive. The kiss deepened until it felt like he was tasting your very soul, claiming every part of you, and you surrendered to it completely.
You had absolutely no doubtâhe was the best kisser youâd ever known, the best youâd ever have. Every single kiss from him was sensual, passionate, and absolutely drenched in love and longing and raw, primal need. He didnât just kiss youâhe devoured you, worshipped you, made you feel like you were the center of his entire universe. Like you were the only thing that mattered in this moment, in this life.
âFuck, I need you so bad, kitten,â he groaned roughly against your mouth, his voice gone gravelly and deep with rut, the sound so raw and desperate it sent a violent shudder tearing through your entire body. The sensation pulsed hot and insistent between your thighs, and you knewâwithout any questionâthat your panties were completely ruined. You were soaked, throbbing, absolutely undone by him. The slickness from your heat was making a mess, and you could tell by the way his nostrils flared that he could smell it, that he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
âM-more⌠please, please,â you whimpered pathetically, clinging to him like youâd physically fall apart without his touch to hold you together. Your claws pricked into his shoulders, and your tail wrapped tighter around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer.
His nose traced along your jaw, down to your throat, and you felt him inhale deeply against your skin, breathing you in like you were oxygen and heâd been suffocating. âFuck, your scent,â he growled, the words vibrating against your throat as he wrapped himself around you completely, his larger body pressing you into the mattress. âSmells so fucking good. So sweet. So ready.â
You shuddered violently as his teeth grazed your neckânot quite biting yet, but the promise of it made liquid heat pool in your core. His wolf instincts were showing now, the rut making him more aggressive, more possessive, and every prey instinct in you should have been screaming danger. Instead, you tilted your head back, baring your throat to him in complete submission, in complete trust.
âCan smell you,â he continued, his voice rough and strained like he was barely holding onto control. âCan smell how wet you are for me. How ready your body is. Your heatââ He groaned, pressing the hard, thick length between his hips against you, grinding into your core through too many layers of clothing. âYouâre ready for breeding. Ready for me to claim you. Ready for my pups.â
You moaned and whimpered at his words, your body arched up into his, as more slickness flooded between your thighs because yes, yes, thatâs exactly what your heat-drunk mind wanted.
âI can smell it,â he continued, his hips grinding against yours in a rhythm that had you gasping, that had you trying to spread your legs wider even with your little sleeping shorts still on. âItâs so strong. So fucking intoxicating. And believe me when I say itâs all I can think about whenever youâre close like thisâhave been thinking about it for years. The rut just makes it a billion times more pronounced, makes it harder to hold back, makes every instinct in me scream to mount you, to breed you, to fill you up until youâre dripping with me.â
âSylus,â you whimpered, and you werenât even sure what you were asking for. Everything. Anything. More.
His teeth scraped against your throat again, harder this time, and you felt your cat hybrid instincts war between the urge to submit and the urge to bite back, to mark him just as thoroughly as he was about to mark you.
âTell me you want this,â he demanded, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his own blazing with barely controlled hunger. âTell me you want me to claim you. Make you mine. Because once I start, kitten, Iâm not going to be able to stop. The rutââ His voice broke slightly. âIâm going to want to bite you. Mark you. Knot you. Breed you. And I need to know thatâs what you want too, that this isnât just the heat talking.â
âItâs not just the heat,â you said fiercely, your hands coming up to frame his face, making him look at you, making him see the truth in your eyes. âI want all of it. Want you to claim me, mark me, make everyone know Iâm yours. Want your bite on my throat. Want you to knot me. Wantââ Your voice dropped to something almost shy despite the explicit nature of what you were saying. âWant you to breed me. Fill me up. Give me everything.â
The sound he made was inhumanâa growl and a groan and something desperate all mixed together. âFuck, you canât say things like that to me. Not when Iâm already barely holding on.â
âThen donât hold on,â you whispered, reaching up to scratch gently behind his wolf ear, knowing exactly how sensitive they were, knowing it would drive him crazy. âI donât want you to hold back. Not anymore. I want all of you, Sylus. The wolf, the rut, the claimingâall of it. Because I love all of you, my dear Alfa."
At your words, his control finally snapped.
Moments later his mouth claimed yours again, and this time there was no hesitation, no holding back. The kiss grew hotter, deeper, more consuming, each pass of your lips stoking the fire between you until it felt like you might combust. His hands moved down your body once more while yours slid to the back of his head, your fingers tangling desperately in his silver hair, careful of his sensitive wolf ears. When you gave a soft, experimental tug, he moaned into your mouthâa deep, rumbling sound that you felt in your chestâand his hips jerked against yours involuntarily.
One of his hands trailed slowly up your stomach, callused fingertips dragging against your overheated skin, while the other held firmly at your hip, gripping possessively, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His touch made you weak, made heat pool between your thighs in waves, slickness soaking through your already-ruined panties as you kissed and touched each other with unrestrained hunger. Your tail thrashed against the bed, completely out of your control, betraying just how affected you were.
His fingers brushed delicately along the sides of your ribs, moving up and down in slow, reverent sweeps, his fingertips tracing every dip and curve as if memorizing your body, as if heâd been dreaming of this moment for years and wanted to savor every second.
âYouâre so soft,â he whispered against your lips, his voice gone rough with want. âSo fucking soft. Been wanting to touch you like this for so long.â
A moment later, his hands slipped away from your ribs only to settle at the hem of your tiny, flimsy tank top. His fingers played with the fabric, his knuckles brushing against the underside of your breasts and making you gasp.
âCan I undress you, little kitten?â His ruby eyes searched yours, dark with desire but still careful, still making sure you wanted this as much as he did.
You bit your lip and nodded frantically, unable to find your voice in that moment, too overwhelmed by need and heat and the feeling of his hands on you. Your ears were perked forward, focused entirely on him, and your pupils were so dilated your eyes looked almost black.
His smile deepenedâpredatory and loving all at onceâas his hands slipped beneath your top for just a second, his palms hot against your skin, before he hooked his fingers into the fabric and slowly drew it upward. You raised your arms to help him remove it, whimpering slightly as the air brushed your newly exposed skin, your nipples pebbling instantly in the cool air and under his heated gaze.
Heat bloomed across your body under the way his eyes roamed over you, drinking in every detail like you were the most beautiful thing heâd ever seen. The way Sylus looked at youâeyes filled with nothing but love, awe, adoration, and raw, desperate hungerâmade you feel so alive, so wanted, so utterly his.
You didnât know what to do with your hands. They trembled helplessly at your sides, your claws extending and retracting nervously, and your core trembled just as much while he tossed the discarded clothing aside carelessly. His eyes never left you as he lowered his mouth to your collarbone, and his lips moved there with such affection, such reverence, that it sent a sweet shiver down your spine all the way to the tip of your tail.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he whispered against your skin, letting his mouth wander over every inch of newly exposed flesh, pressing kisses like prayers. âSo divine⌠ethereal. Perfect. Mine.â
Your bare chests pressed together, skin against skin, and the contact made you both groan. Every point of contact sets you ablazeâhis fever-hot skin against yours, the solid muscle of his chest, the way you could feel his heart racing just as fast as yours. You stared up at him with wide, overwhelmed eyes as he continued kissing his way across your body, your ears twitching with every soft sound he made.
His large hands slid to the curve of your waist where it met your hips, gripping you firmly, his fingers spanning almost the entire width of your waist. He scattered damp kisses and gentle nipsâcareful not to break skin yet, but the promise was thereâover your shoulders and down the path to your breasts. You whimpered softly when he traced the tip of his nose over the swell of your breast, breathing in your scent deeply, savoring the moment before his lips followed the same path.
âSmell so good here too,â he murmured against your skin. âEverywhere. Every inch of you smells like heaven. Like mine.â
He leaned down and pressed the softest, sweetest kiss to the side of your breast before lifting his gaze to yours, his ruby eyes molten with desire. âAre you okay?â he murmured, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. His forearms rested on either side of your body, caging you in gently, his larger frame completely covering yours. When you nodded, he brought one hand up to stroke your cheek, his thumb warm and tender against your flushed skin, careful of your sensitive whiskers. âKitten⌠if weâre gonna go any further, I need you to talk to me. I need verbal communication. Think you can do that?â
You stared at him for a moment, breath catching, completely overwhelmed by the tenderness in his eyes despite the rut clearly driving him mad with need. Then you nodded again before catching yourself. He raised a brow and gave you that knowing look that sent warmth spreading through your chest.
âSorry,â you whispered, your voice coming out breathier than intended. âY-yes, Sy. Yes⌠I think I can do that.â
âGood girl,â he praised softly, and the words sent a spike of pleasure straight to your core. A gentle smile curved his lips even as his eyes blazed. âGood kitty.â
The purr that escaped your throat was completely involuntary, your cat hybrid instincts responding to the praise before you could stop them. His eyes darkened impossibly further at the sound, and you felt his cock twitch against your thigh.
âAnd if you want me to stopââ His mouth pressed back to your heated skin, trailing barely-there kisses down the valley between your breasts, his wolf ears tilted forward to catch every sound you made. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingers twisted in the sheets, claws puncturing the fabric. ââyou tell me right away. Okay?â he muttered, his voice raw and strained with want.
âY-yes, Sylus⌠I understand,â you whimpered, another involuntary purr vibrating in your chest.
âGood.â
He breathed in through his nose, inhaling your scent deeply, and you shivered when he exhaled warm breath directly over your nipple. âFuck, angel⌠youâre so beautiful. So perfect. Canât believe I get to have you like this. Canât believe youâre finally mine.â
Then he wrapped his lips around your nipple, teeth skimming lightly over the sensitive peak as he sucked and licked with slow, hungry passion. His tongue was hot and wet, circling and flicking in ways that made your back arch off the bed.
âSyâŚâ you mewled, the sound high and needy and so distinctly feline. Your hips lifted helplessly as your cunt sought any kind of friction, your tail thrashing against the sheets.
Sylus looked up at you, his mouth still wrapped around your nipple, and his eyes were absolutely wicked. Heat crawled up your skin under his gaze. He could see everything on your faceâwant, need, desperationâand he welcomed it, reveled in it. His lips returned to their work, long, slow, lavish licks from the flat of his tongue over your pebbled nipple while his other hand rose to squeeze your other breast, kneading gently, rolling your nipple between his fingers.
The dual sensation made you cry out, your hands flying to his hair, threading through the silver strands. When your fingers accidentally brushed his wolf ear, he groaned around your nipple, his hips grinding down against you involuntarily.
Impatient, trembling, desperate for more, you guided the hand on your breast downwardâdown your stomach, down to the heat between your thighs where you needed him most. His breath hitched sharply, his mouth releasing your nipple with a wet pop as he stared at you.
âPlease,â you whimpered. âNeed you to touch me. Needââ
Your words cut off in a loud, helpless moan as his fingers slipped beneath the band of your little sleeping shorts and down to where you needed him most. His mouth fell open with a loud, helpless groan right against your breast when his fingers met your soaked folds.
âFuck,â he breathed, his fingers sliding through your slickness, exploring, teasing. âFuck, kitten, youâre drenched. So wet for me. Is this all from your heat orââ
âYou,â you gasped out as his fingers traced your pussy softly, learning every fold, every sensitive spot. âItâs you. Always you.â
He groaned again, the sound vibrating against your skin, and you felt his cock throb against your thigh, hard and hot even through his underwear. His fingers continued their exploration, one finger circling your entrance teasingly before sliding up to circle your clit with maddening lightness.
He worshipped you there for a momentâjust his fingers teasing, learning every response, cataloging what made you gasp and what made you moanâbefore he suddenly pulled back. Completely away from you.
You whimpered at the loss, your hands reaching for him desperately, a distressed mewl escaping your throat that made his ears flatten apologetically. But he was already sitting up, watching through half-lidded eyes as he took his time removing the rest of his clothes. Every movement felt agonizingly slowâthe flex of his muscles, the reveal of more pale skin, the thick trail of hair leading down from his navel.
When he finally pushed his underwear down, his cock sprang free, thick, massive, hard and flushed dark with need. Your eyes widened at the size of him, at the sheer girth and length, at the prominent veins running along his shaft, at the bead of precum already leaking from the tip. You felt another gush of slickness between your thighs, your body preparing itself instinctively, but your mind was suddenly racing with doubt.
He was big. Bigger than youâd imagined, and you were a virgin. How was that supposed to fit inside you? Your eyes traced down his length to where you could see the thick bulge at the baseâhis knot, still not fully swollen but already intimidating. The thought of taking all of that, of being stretched around him, knotted by himâŚ
Panic fluttered in your chest even as arousal pooled hot and heavy in your belly. Your heat-addled brain was at war with itselfâhalf of it screaming âwant, need him, need to be filled, bred, knottedâ while the other half whispered anxiously âtoo big, wonât fit, itâs going to hurtââ
You shut your eyes briefly, the conflicting emotions making you whine and mewl like the kitten you were. The sounds were desperate, needyâdesperate to feel him again, desperate for his heat on your skin, desperate to be filled despite your fears. But underneath it all was that thread of nervousness, of uncertainty about whether your body could actually take what it was begging for.
When he was finally naked, you felt the bed dip as he moved back over you. He leaned down, his lips immediately finding your neck, licking and sucking softly, careful of where heâd eventually place his mating bite. His hands cupped your sensitive breasts and massaged them with tender, reverent fingers, his palms rough against your soft skin. Heat flooded your body as Sylus kissed down your shoulders, then your chest, his mouth leaving warm, fluttering trails that made your tail curl.
Your trembling hands slid into his silver hair, threading through the strands, gently scratching at the base of his ears in the way that made him shudder. He continued to kiss and taste every inch of exposed skin, his tongue occasionally flicking out to taste, to scent-mark, to claim.
Sylusâs lips moved slowly down your body, worshipping you with unhurried kisses, while his hands traced the lines of your shaking formâmapping every curve, every soft place, every breath you took beneath him. Lower and lower he went, until he was settled between your thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider.
He leaned forward, breathing in the heat of your core as he ran his nose slowly along the patch of dampness clinging to your shorts. You tugged at his hair when he inhaled your scent deeply, his eyes rolling back slightly, a rumbling groan emanating from his chest.
âFuck, kitten,â he hummed, looking up at you with an intense, hungry gaze that was pure predator. His wolf instincts were fully on display now, and every instinct in you should have been screaming. Instead, you spread your legs wider in invitation. His hands left your skin to curl into the waistband of your tiny shorts. âYou smell so good⌠so fucking ready. I canât wait to taste you. Been dreaming about having my mouth on your pretty pussy for years.â
A shuddering breath slipped past your lips as you lifted your hips instinctively, silently begging him to take them off. He slid the fabric down your legs torturously slowly, and you watched his eyes track the string of slickness that connected your pussy to the soaked fabric before it broke.
âNo panties,â he observed, his voice gone even rougher. âWere you expecting this, kitten? Or do you just walk around the apartment with nothing under these tiny shorts, driving me fucking insane?â
âIâI was too hot,â you stammered, your face heating up. âThe heat, I couldnâtââ
âShh, I know.â He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, soothing. âIâm not complaining. Fuck, Iâm not complaining.â
Once he pushed your thighs open wider for him, you whimpered as the cool air kissed your wet slit, as you were completely exposed to his ravenous gaze. Sylus stilled for a moment, his eyes devouring the sight of youâyour glistening center clenching around nothing as he watched your pussy pulse with need and so swollen, your slickness coating your inner thighs.
âPrettiest pussy Iâve ever seen,â he murmured, almost to himself. âPerfect. All mine.â
He licked his lips slowly, deliberately, before leaning down and placing lingering kisses along your inner thighs. His tongue dragged warm, teasing strokes over your soft skin, sucking gently, leaving marks, worshipping. His mouth was so close to where you needed him most, but each kiss felt like sweet torture, keeping him just out of reach.
âPlease,â you whimpered, your tail lashing in frustration. âSylus, pleaseââ
âSo pretty when you beg,â he murmured as he guided your legs up and over his shoulders, settling you perfectly beneath him, his hot breath ghosting over your aching core. âAgain.â
âPlease,â you repeated, more desperate this time. âPlease touch me, taste me, anythingââ
You were about to beg moreâabout to plead for himâwhen his lips left your thigh⌠only for him to nuzzle directly against your pussy a moment later. The contact made you cry out, your back arching off the bed. He smeared your slick across his lips with a groan of satisfaction, savoring your taste as he opened you with his tongue, dragging it flat from your entrance to your clit in one long, devastating lick.
âFuck,â he groaned against you, the vibration making you whimper. âTaste even better than you smell. Could eat this sweet little pussy for hours. Might have to, just to prepare you for my cock.â
You gasped, your body arching as his wet tongue finally met your throbbing heat again, this time circling your clit with purpose. He licked and sucked with the dedication of a man starving, like your pleasure was the only thing that mattered in the world.
He pulled back again briefly, only long enough for his fingers to slide in and spread your outer lips for him, exposing your swollen clit and clenching entrance fully to his gaze. Sylus smirked as he eased a single finger inside you, watching your body reactâthe way your hips twitched, the way your walls fluttered and clenched around the intrusion, how greedily your wet hole swallowed his digit. You moaned into the pillow beside you, trying to muffle the desperate sounds, your ears flat against your head with overwhelming sensation.
Those little whinesâsoft, needy, helpless, so felineâonly drove Sylus to chase more of those heavenly noises from your lips. His mouth returned to your clit, sucking the swollen bud between his lips while his finger worked inside you.
âFuck⌠such a tight little pussy,â he moaned against you as your cunt clenched repeatedly around his finger. âSo fucking tight. Virgin tight.â The word made you clench harder, and he groaned. âIâm going to have to prepare your tiny pussy for my cock, kitten. Have to stretch you out nice and slow so you can take me. So you can take my knot. So I can breed you all night long.â
Your whines grew louder at the mention of his knot and the thought of him breeding you, your heat-driven instincts screaming yes, need that, want to be knotted, bred, filled. The pleasure washed over you in waves as his finger curled inside you, finding that spot that made you see stars.
His fingers were so much bigger than yoursâjust one of his was more overwhelming, more delicious, reaching deeper than anything youâd ever done to yourself. And when he added a second finger, stretching you carefully while his tongue worked your clit, you thought you might die from how good it felt.
âThatâs it,â he praised, his voice muffled against you. âGet used to being stretched. Youâre doing so good for me. Such a good little kitty.â
The praise combined with the physical sensation made you purr loudly, your body going pliant and eager for him, desperate to please, desperate to be good for your alfa, your mate.
Your mate.
The realization should have overwhelmed you. Instead, it felt like coming home.
Your breath hitched as your body responded to him, your core fluttering and clenching around his fingers like it recognized him on instinct alone. A soft whimper slipped past your lips, tail curling against the sheets as your ears twitched, betraying just how sensitive you were to every careful movement he made. Sylusâs fingers moved slowly inside you, unhurried, reverentâlike he was memorizing the way your body opened for him.
Without thinking, your hips began to sway into his touch, chasing the closeness, the intimacy of it. A low sound rumbled from his chest, warm and deep, his gaze softening even as it burned with want. He watched you like you were something preciousâyour trembling thighs, the way your hands fisted the sheets, the small, helpless movements of your tail when pleasure crept higher.
You panted softly as he added another finger, his touch patient, coaxing. He gave your body time, easing you open with gentle insistence until the stretch stopped being overwhelming and turned into something lush and intoxicating. Your whimpers grew quieter, needier, each one melting into the next as his fingers curled inside you with deliberate care.
When he kissed you, it wasnât rushed. His lips lingered, tender and consuming all at once, as if he was afraid of leaving even for a second. Your claws threaded into his hair, tugging him closer, your body responding to him as naturally as breathing. His thumb brushed your clit, and the kiss deepenedâslow, intimate, devastating.
You gasped when his tongue slipped into your mouth, kissing you with desperate devotion. âThat feels good, doesnât it, baby girl? You like it when I touch you like this?â Sylus groanedâright as his thumb found your clit. You bucked into him, nodding frantically.
âUse your words, kitten,â he teased darkly.
âYesâplease, Sy, please⌠feels so good,â you whimpered, voice breaking. âPlease...â
He kissed his way down your body again, making you whine and beg in soft, breathless soundsâeven as his fingers kept thrusting inside you.
Sylus inhaled your scent as soon as he settled between your thighs, but he didnât keep you waiting. He wet his lips, then dipped his head to drag his tongue in a slow stripe from your dripping folds to your clit.
âFuck, Sylus!â you shrieked, hips lifting off the mattress.
Senseless, needy noises poured from your throat. Your hips stuttered against him, and he simply sighedâlike there was nothing in this world he wanted more than to eat you out right here, right now.
He savored you, his mouth moving with unhurried devotion, his fingers still inside you, grounding you even as pleasure began to blur the edges of everything else. His free hand rested on your hipânot to hold you down, but to keep you close, to remind you he was right there.
Your name spilled from his mouth like a promise, and his from yours like a prayer. Tears stung your eyes as the feeling built, overwhelming in the sweetest way. His tongue moved with quiet confidence, his fingers curling just right, drawing soft, needy sounds from deep in your chest.
âItâs okay,â he murmured when your body tensed, sensing it instantly. âIâve got you. Breathe kitten.â
You buried your face into the pillow, nodding weakly, trusting him completely.
When he returned to you, slower this time, more intentional, the pleasure bloomed againâgentler but deeper. You sighed at the same moment he didâyours high and breathy, his deep and dreamy. He lapped at you with clear intention, fucking you with slow, careful strokes of his fingers this time, keeping you just where you needed to be. Your hands found his hair, holding him there as if you might float apart otherwise.
âOhâmy god,â you whimpered, trembling hands gripping his silver hair with one hand while the other clamped over your mouth to silence yourself. âF-Fuck⌠Sy, f-fuckâŚâ
He moaned into your pussy, lips sealing around your clit. You jerked at the sensation. âFucking hellâ you taste so good. You feel so good. Youâre everything,â he groaned against you.
âFuck, babyâoh my fucking god,â you cried out. He sucked lazily on your clit while curling his fingers inside you, then sucked harder as he circled your little bud with his tongue. His fingers moved faster, deeper, hitting your sweet spot over and over. You moaned his name between breathless mewls, now gripping his hair with both hands. âFeels so good AlfaâŚâ
Your whole body trembled violently, heat spreading everywhere, your hips grinding helplessly into his face and hand.
âA-Ah! Iâm comingâplease, pleaseââ
âCum for me, kitten,â he murmured before sucking your clit again.
Your body snapped tight as your orgasm tore through you. Your mind exploded into blinding stars, pleasure crashing through your nerves so sharply you cried out his name. You trembled uncontrollably as you came against his mouth, your soul unwinding in his hands.
âYouâre doing so well for me, kitty,â he whispered proudly as his fingers slowed, sliding out to softly rub your swollen slit while he kept licking your clitâguiding you gently through every last wave.
You were a sputtering, helpless mess, trembling as he pushed you right to the edge of overstimulation. As your senses returned in shaky pieces, you felt his fingers slip away from your heat. Your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate and empty. You felt like a fevered storm, soaked from the waist down, dripping onto the sheets, whimpering helplessly.
You needed him. Badly. Your pussy pulsed insistentlyâbegging to be filled again. Begging for his cock.
You rolled onto your stomach with a breathless, needy mewl, burying your face into his pillow as it still held his scent. Your tail curled tight against the sheets, flicking weakly as your body trembled with lingering sensation. Your ears twitched at every sound behind you. You kept your eyes closed when you felt his hands on you againâlarge, warm, unmistakably steady as he lifted your hips and spread your legs wider, guiding you with quiet certainty.
A soft, startled sound slipped from you when Sylus leaned in and pressed his face between your thighs. He inhaled deeply as he spread your cheeks apartâslow, deliberateâhis wolf committing your scent to memory. The reaction was immediate. Your body shuddered, slick gathering between your folds as your arousal bloomed again, stronger this time, your scent thickening and turning sweet. The low sound he made in response vibrated through the mattress, deep and instinctive, and the bed shifted beneath the force of it.
Then his mouth was on you.
Messy, hungry, unrestrainedâhis tongue dragged over every inch of sensitive skin between your thighs, saliva warm and unashamed. His hands locked firmly on your hips, holding you tilted just right, keeping you open and offered. His focus narrowed completely to your heat, to the way wetness welled and spilled freely now, mixing with his saliva and trailing down to soak the sheets beneath you. Your clit throbbed desperately, aching as each flick of his tongue passed just beside it, teasing your frayed nerves.
The vibrations of his quiet growls traveled straight through you, doubling every sensation. When his tongue finally circled your clit, a loud, broken cry tore from your throat, ears flattening as your back arched off the bed. He licked a slow, possessive stripe up through your folds, teasingly dipping his tongue into your needy entranceâjust enough to make you gaspâbefore gliding back up. His tongue spread you open with wet warmth as his lips closed around your clit, sucking with reverent hunger.
You nearly sobbed at the feeling. Your whole body trembled, overwhelmed and desperate, instincts screaming. You needed moreâneeded him. Without thinking, you tried to grind yourself against his mouth, chasing friction like a needy little thing, but his arms slid around your thighs. His biceps caged your hips in place, holding you still with effortless strength.
Not cruel. Not rushed. Controlled.
âTaste so good, kitten⌠could eat this pussy all day,â he growled against you.
The man you loved more than anything was between your legs, tongue gliding slowly up and down your soaked slit, savoring you like prey he had no intention of letting go of. Every soft mewl, every helpless sound you made only urged him on. His mouth returned to your clit, sucking gently but deliberately, lips warm and persistent as though he wanted you to feel every second of it.
When he leaned in deeper and slipped his tongue into your entrance, your breath caught sharply. He curled it upward, brushing your inner walls with careful precision. Your fingers bunched the sheets in a tight, trembling grip, claws threatening to tear through the fabricâand he felt it. He repeated the motion, slower, firmer, intent sharpening.
You were undone beneath him. A needy, whimpering mess, hips betraying you as they strained uselessly against his hold. Soft, breathless cries spilled from your lips as he licked upward again, pressing his tongue against that sensitive spot inside you. Your vision blurred. Your hips bucked hard against his mouth, thighs clamping around his head as another orgasm crept frighteningly close.
Greed and desperation overtook you. Your hips pushed against his face to force his tongue deeper into your aching cunt.
âSylusâŚâ you moaned, voice breaking, raw and needy. You were so closeâaching, trembling.
You moved your hips against him helplessly, fucking yourself on his tongue as he pressed firmly into that sensitive spot inside you. His thumb circled your clit in slow, perfect circles that made stars dance behind your eyes.
âBe a good girl and come for me,â he murmured, voice low and commanding, devotion wrapped tight around the wordsâbefore plunging his tongue back inside you.
That was all it took.
Your body gave in with a shattered cry, pleasure ripping through you as your vision went white and your ears rang. Your movements turned sloppy and uncoordinated as you came against his mouth, hips stuttering through the final waves. He stayed with you through it all, tongue soothing, lapping gently until the overstimulation made you twitch and whine. Only then did he ease back.
âYou did so well, princess⌠so good to me. So beautiful. And you taste so good. So sweet,â he murmured against your inner thigh, voice thick with praise.
You whimpered softly at his praise, still oversensitive and aching, your body trembling in small aftershocks from the force of your climax. Your tail twitched weakly against the sheets, ears flicking as if every sound and touch reached you twice as strongly now. Before you could fully gather yourself, Sylus shifted above you, moving up your back with slow intention. He pressed soft, lingering kisses along your spine, each one warm and grounding, then across your shoulders, and finally to the curve of your neck.
Your breath hitched with every kiss. Your whimpers and broken little moans never quite stopped as he spoiled youâtouching you like you were precious, worshipping you with a devotion that made your chest ache. His presence was steady and sure, his body a solid warmth over yours, anchoring you as much as he aroused you.
âI love you so much, sweet girl,â Sylus murmured, voice low and sincere as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His nose brushed your skin, breathing you in like instinct demanded. âSo responsive to me.â
The room felt heavy with anticipation, the air thick with scentâyour arousal sweet and unmistakable, his deeper and warmer beneath it. You lay beneath him, every inch of you flushed and sensitive, nerves still singing from where he had touched you. His words settled deep inside you, soft and reverent, and you melted into the mattress, your usual hesitations crumbling under the weight of his affection.
âI love you too,â you breathed back, the confession barely louder than a whisper, as though saying it out loud might undo you.
His lips returned to your neck, open-mouthed kisses trailing along your skin in a slow, unhurried line. Each press lingered, deliberate, almost possessive without being rough. He moved from your neck to your shoulders, then along your jaw, his breath warm against your ear. You whimpered again, your body arching instinctively, hips pressing back against him without conscious thought. It felt naturalânecessaryâyour feline instincts urging you closer, seeking friction, seeking him.
His skin was slick and hot against yours, his body radiating heat so intense it chased away the chill entirely. When you turned your head slightly to look at him, you caught the scent of yourself on his breath and lips, your arousal clinging to him. His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded as they met yours, pupils blown wide. Moments later, you felt the warm drip of his own arousal spill into the small dip of your back, making you shiver.
Sylus lined himself up slowly, carefully, and glided his cock through the slick cleft of your ass. Your breath caught as his tip dragged along your slit, spreading wetness everywhere. Your body trembled as precum leaked freely from him, smearing over your clit and folds, the sensation making your inner walls clench and flutter in response.
You squirmed helplessly beneath him, your body a writhing mess of need, tail curling tight as anticipation coiled low in your belly. Every slow roll of his hips made your breath hitch, made your muscles tense like you were bracing for something inevitable.
âLetâs move you around,â he murmured softly, hands sliding to your hips as he tried to guide you onto your back.
A needy mewl slipped from you before you could stop it, your body resisting the movement instinctively.
âKitten?â he prompted gently, pausing.
You swallowed, voice trembling as the words spilled out. âSy⌠I want you to take me from behind. Please. I need you to fuck me like this. I want my first time to be like thisâwith you. Please.â
A low growl rumbled from his chest, restrained but unmistakably wolfish. âThatâs your heat talking,â he murmured, though his hands tightened slightly on your hips.
âPlease,â you whimpered again, desperation bleeding through every word. âI canât do this anymore. I need you. I need you so bad.â Your hips ground back against him, slick heat coating his length, the friction driving you nearly frantic. The tip of his cock brushed your entrance, teasing, while your clit throbbed with every small movement. Your mind felt hazy, overwhelmed by want.
âI donât think your tiny virgin pussy can handle my cock,â he said quietly, voice husky, teasingâbut there was hesitation there too. His grip tightened, steadying rather than forcing. âEspecially not like this.â
You felt him breathing harder behind you, his control slipping inch by inch. His body was tense, like he was holding himself back with everything he had. You could feel the conflict in himâthe way he wanted you, the way he was fighting to make this right.
âI can handle it,â you insisted, voice shaking but sincere. âLet me be your good kitten.â
Sylus stilled. His hand guided himself to your entrance, fingers firm and grounding as he rubbed the tip of his cock over your swollen clit. Your mind spiraled, the sensation overwhelming. Your breath broke into a soft cry, your back arching off the bed as sensation flooded you.
âFuck, Sy, please,â you pleaded, your voice breaking. âI canât do this anymore. I jusâ need you so bad. My pussy needs you. It needs to be filled with your cock and cum. Please, Daddy. Let me be your good kitten. Fill this little hole up, breed this pussy. My Alfa, pleaseââ
Your words were a catalyst, sending Sylus over the edge. A deep growl tore from him as his hands gripped your hips, tilting them and spreading your legs wider. His rough, wide hands caressed your ass, his touch both gentle and commanding. He circled his tip around your entrance, the motion slow and deliberate, pulling desperate whines from your lips. You squirmed, your hips wiggling, trying to push back against him, but his hold was firm, his dominance undeniable.
âYouâre so warm. Taste and smell so nice and ripe.â he murmured, breath ragged. âSo ready for my cubs, kitten.â
You whimpered beneath him as his hips ground forward, his voice darker than youâd ever heard it, rough with instinct. The head of his cock brushed lower, grazing your entrance before he drew back slightly, watching the way your tight, little virgin pussy clenched, desperate and begging to be filled. His teeth clicked softly near your ear, sending goosebumps racing over your skin and making your hips jerk beneath his.
This time, when his tip pressed against your soaked centre, he hissed sharply. The instant his dewy tip pressed against your entrance, you mewled, your body tensing with anticipation. The fat head of his cock was a promise, a prelude to the fullness you craved. Your stomach seized, the wait torturous, your clit throbbing in time with your racing heart.
âGonna take care of you, breed you so good.â He murmured, circling his hips again, the tip winding around your entrance, dipping between your folds. You lifted your hips instinctively to meet him, back arching under his chest as your body begged for what was coming.
âYou look so beautiful like this,â he whispered, voice thick with longing. âMine.â
âP-please, Daddyââ you croaked, the word tearing out of you in a thin, broken whisper. Your ears flattened instinctively as Sylus's heavy breathing filled the space behind you, each husky exhale brushing your skin and making your tail curl tight. His presence was overwhelmingâsolid and powerful, all wolfish heat and restrained hunger. His flushed cockhead pressed more firmly at your entrance, making it ache, while your clit pulsed painfully beneath him.
You trembled beneath his weight, every inch of you too sensitive, too aware. His body covered yours completely, warm and grounding, his heat wrapping around you like a protective cage. You writhed softly, helplessly, yearning to be filledâyearning to feel him inside you so deeply that thought dissolved into nothing but sensation.
You trembled beneath him, every inch of you alive with need. Your tail curled tight against the sheets and then loosened again, betraying how restless you were. He covered you completely, his heat bleeding into you, chasing every last trace of cold from your skin until there was nothing left but warmth and want. You writhed softly, helplessly, yearning for him to fill youâyearning to be so full of him that the world blurred into white and there was only Sylus.
His nose brushed along the side of your neck for a brief second, an instinctive nuzzle that made your breath catch. Like he had to breathe you in, like he had to ground himself before he moved.
âAh⌠such a pretty, tiny pussy,â he heaved, voice thick with desire and something darker beneath itâsomething wolfish and barely leashed. âCanât wait to breed this tight little pussy all night long.â
The words went straight through you, a hot shiver tearing down your spine. You whimpered, and your body clenched around nothing, begging.
A broken gasp burst from your lips when he finally slipped the tip of his cock inside. It wasnât fast. It wasnât careless. It was slow and heavy, the kind of pressure that demanded your entire bodyâs attention. You felt him shift behind you, sitting up just enough to look down, his eyes locked on the place where your body tried to accommodate him.
âOhhhââ the sound that left you wasnât even fully a moan, more like something pulled from deep in your chest. Relief and ache tangled together as you relished the feeling of him, the pressure turning into bliss as the head of his length spread you open. It felt like he was parting you slowly, shaping you with patience, like he refused to hurt you even while his need raged.
Your walls stretched in a slow, aching attempt to wrap around him, but it was clear from the start it wouldnât be easy. He was overwhelmingâthick and wide even at the tip, the stretch made sharper by how desperate and worked-up you already were. A harsh hiss slipped through his teeth when he had to pull back slightly, easing you open with controlled restraint, cock throbbing inside your center in time with the fluttering convulsions of your walls.
A shaky whine spilled from you as he pushed forward again, the stretch searing through you. His veins dragged along your walls in a way that felt intimate and claiming, like he was molding you to him, pressing himself into every place your body could offer. Your claws flexed against the sheets, leaving faint marks in the fabric as you tried to steady yourself.
He went deeper. And deeper.
A long, fragile sound broke from your throat as you shuddered, overwhelmed by how much of him there was. He was so big. So impossibly thick. You felt split open around him in the most helpless way, your body trembling as it struggled and then clung, like your instincts didnât know whether to fight or surrender.
âSy, I canâtââ you mewled, voice cracking into a needy, feline sound that made his breath hitch. âS-so big⌠t-too b-bigâŚâ
He didnât answer immediately.
His hands slid down to your ass, spreading you open carefullyâjust to see you, to understand exactly how your body was taking him. His gaze was intense, pupils blown wide, the wolf in him watching the way your dripping cunt fought to accept him. His jaw flexed, a quiet tremor of restraint rolling through him as if he was holding back everything he wanted to do.
âPoor kitty,â he sighed, voice rough with a mix of amusement and aching tenderness. âSo tinyâŚâ His thumb brushed your hip, a gentle stroke that softened the words. âMy pretty kitten can barely take me.â
Slowlyâcarefullyâhe pushed just a little further, inch by inch, his pace controlled like heâd rather break himself than break you. His breath ghosted over your cheek as he leaned down, voice lowering into something intimate.
âYou can take it,â he murmured. âYouâre doing so, so good for me.â Another slow push. âSuch a good little kitten.â
And then he kissed your cheekâsoft and sweet, a tender mark of love right in the middle of all that heat.
âItâs so big,â you mewled again, hips stuttering helplessly beneath him. Your tail flicked once in frantic need, your ears flattening as your body tried to adjust around his size. âAh⌠DaddyâŚâ
His grip tightened slightlyânot harsh, but firm enough to hold you steady, to keep you from slipping away from the pressure you were begging for. The wolf in him rumbled low, but the man you loved stayed careful, coaxing your body instead of forcing it.
âYou can do it, kitty,â Sylus insisted, voice a low growl right by your ear, warm breath washing over your skin. âYouâll take daddyâs cock⌠like the good little kitten you are.â
The stretch burned, sharp and intense⌠but it was intoxicating, too. Your eyes fluttered shut, lips parting on helpless sounds as he worked himself deeper, your pussy fluttering around him in a desperate attempt to adjust. Your whimpers turned breathless and pathetic, sweet and needy, the kind of sounds that felt too honest to stop.
He paused again, just long enough for your walls to soften around him, just long enough for your body to stop resisting and start learning him.
âSuch a good girl,â he breathed.
Your body clenched hard at the praise, slick gathering faster as if your cunt had decided to reward him for being gentle.
You took a deep, shaky breathâand when he pressed forward again, it was different. He slid inside far enough for the swelling near the base of his cock to begin spreading you wider, and your exhale shattered into a cry when you felt your core strain around his knot. Your thighs shook violently, claws scraping at the sheets as your body tried to process the fullness.
Sylusâ breathing came faster and hotter, panting against your back. You felt drops of sweat fall from his chin as he hovered over you, shaking with restraint. His hands stayed on your hipsâsteady, groundingâwhile the tip of his cock nudged deep, brushing that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you that made your vision blur.
âAlfa,â you mewled, voice trembling, small and desperate. âT-too bigâŚâ
A broken sound tore from him, animalistic and raw, like the wolf was slipping through the cracks of his control. He shuddered over you, hips trembling as he fought himself, jaw clenched so tight you could hear his teeth grind.
He held himself thereâstill, strainedâbreathing hard, like he was forcing patience into his bones.
Then his voice softened, roughened by devotion. âLook at me,â he whispered, breath hot against your ear. âYouâre safe. Iâve got you.â
Your throat tightened painfully at the tenderness in it. It didnât make the need smaller. It made it worseâbecause it reminded you this wasnât just lust. This was Sylus. Your Sylus.
And then his restraint snapped, not into cruelty, but into aching surrender.
He thrust forward harder, hips snapping with a force that drove him all the way in. Filling you to the brim.
You cried out, body arching off the bed as the fullness stole your breath. Your toes curled, eyes squeezing shut, and your pussy convulsed around him like it couldnât decide whether to clamp down or melt. You felt his precum mix with your slick, hot and deep, and tears spilled freely down your cheeksâoverwhelmed by the stretch, the relief, the trust, the love tangled into it all.
For a moment, you were suspended in pure sensationâshaking, full, completely his.
You felt stretched perfectly around him, filled so deeply your entire body buzzed. And as your walls slowly softened, adjusting around his thickness, the overwhelming fullness began to bloom into something sweeter. Deeper.
You clenched around him without meaning to.
Sylus groaned low, the sound vibrating through your spine. His face tightened with restraint as he leaned over you, his hands sliding down your waist and then kneading your ass cheeks, touch possessive but gentle.
âFuck,â he hissed, voice strained. âSo fucking tightâŚâ He dragged a shaky breath in. âYou look so beautiful like thisâtaking me all the way⌠my good kitten.â
âPlease⌠I need you,â you whimpered, voice breaking as your pussy pulsed around him, needy and greedy, refusing to let him go. Your tail curled tighter, trembling with every beat of your heart. âPlease SyâŚâ
He pulled out slowlyâso slowly it felt cruel. The empty ache hit you instantly, making you whine, your hips chasing him without permission. âSuch a needy pussy,â Sylus groaned, and then he thrust back in again, hips snapping forward hard enough to make your whole body slump into the mattress.
The first thrusts were deliberateâstrong enough to make your breasts bounce, deep enough to knock breath from your lungs. Each snap of his hips drew something new out of you: a breathless mewl, a whine, a broken plea you couldnât hold back. Your ears flattened and your tail flicked in frantic rhythm, your body reacting like instinct had stolen every last ounce of pride. The sounds filled the room quicklyâsoft, frantic, embarrassingly sweet.
Sylus groaned, the wolf in him practically purring at the way you responded. But his hands stayed careful on you, holding you steady, guiding the pace so it didnât steal too much from you too fast.
âThatâs it,â he murmured, voice low and thick with approval as he pressed his mouth to the back of your shoulder, kissing you like he couldnât help it. âSing for me, kittenâŚâ
And with every thrust that followed, you didâyour body trembling, heart open, love and heat crashing together until there was nothing left in you but him.
âAhâah, fuck, daddy⌠oh my godââ you hiccuped, your voice breaking into breathless little sounds as Sylus moved his hips slowly but firmly behind you. Each thrust sent hot, lightning-sharp jolts through your body, pleasure blooming and spreading until it made your limbs feel weightless. Your pussy pulsed greedily around him, still struggling to adjust to his girth, but the stretch became more bearable with every careful pushâturning from sharp overwhelm into something lush, intoxicating, almost addictive as your body began to surrender.
You didnât just take himâyou learned him. Like your instincts were wrapping around his, yielding not out of weakness, but because it was him. Because it was love. Because your body trusted him even when it trembled.
His pace quickened, hips snapping against yours with growing urgency, rough enough to make the bedframe rock beneath you. The slap of skin against skin echoed through the room, obscene and steady. Each deep thrust dragged a helpless sound from your throat as he drove into you again and again, filling you so thoroughly it stole your breath every single time. His palm slid down to your ass, spreading you open as he pushed in fully, claiming every inch with a possessive kind of care that made your chest tighten.
You cried out when your body clenched around him, instinctively welcoming him deeper, the pressure making your eyes squeeze shut as if you could feel him everywhere.
Your tail flicked erratically behind you, betraying how close you were to losing yourself. Your ears twitched at every low sound he madeâevery ragged breath, every restrained growl that vibrated through his chest and into your spine. He held you firmly in place, his cock stretching you open until it left you dizzy and breathless, your thighs trembling with the effort of keeping up. His hands tightened on your hips, guiding you back onto him with slow, deliberate thrustsâstill controlled, still watching you, feeling you, reading every shiver as if your body spoke a language only he understood.
Even now, even like this, Sylus took his time in the moments that mattered, pausing just enough for you to breathe, to soften, to take him fully, his restraint trembling at the edge of snapping.
âThatâs it,â he groaned, forehead pressing briefly to your back. âMy good girl. My kitten.â
The praise hit you like a kiss to the soul. Your walls fluttered around him, greedy and tight, and you whimpered helplessly.
His voice softened just enough to make it ache. âAll for me.â
He kept you pinned with one broad hand at your lower back, forcing your hips up while pressing your chest firmly into the mattress, holding you exactly where he wanted you. There was no escape from himâonly sensation. You were a mess beneath his weight, tears sliding down your cheeks, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth, broken little mewls spilling freely as his rhythm became more demanding, more relentless⌠but never careless.
His breathing came faster and faster, hot pants washing over your back. Drops of sweat slid from his chin, landing warm against your skin. You could feel yourself burning just as hot, your entire body glowing with itâespecially when his tip nudged deep, brushing that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you that made your vision blur.
âFeels good, doesnât it?â he murmured, voice thick, almost wrecked, as he rolled his hips deeper into youâslow for one thrust, almost reverent⌠and then firm again.
âYâyes,â you gasped, barely holding yourself together. ââS too muchâSyâfeels sâgood,â you mewled, voice breaking as your hands clawed the sheets, nails catching and scraping. Your back arched instinctively, pushing you closer, begging without restraint. Your tail curled tight and then flicked again, like your body couldnât decide whether it wanted to hide or be claimed harder.
He chuckled softlyâlow, intimateâbefore leaning down until his breath brushed your ear and his nose grazed your neck in something instinctive and wolfish, a brief nuzzle that made you shiver all over.
âGood,â he whispered. âLet it consume you, kitten.â
His pace quickened. Thrusts grew rougher, deeperâdriven by something hungry and unyielding that made the wolf in him bleed through the cracks. The wet sounds of your body filled the room, obscene and overwhelming, every slick drag and blunt press pushing you closer to the edge. His grip tightened, grounding you, keeping you right where he wanted you, refusing to let you drift anywhere but into him.
âSyâSylusâŚâ you mewled breathlessly, voice dissolving into something small and desperate. âFeels so goodâŚâ
His thrusts turned relentlessâpunishing in the best way, stealing your breath, pulling your sounds from your throat until they became high, helpless cries. Your body trembled, completely at his mercy, every nerve alight. Your pussy fluttered around him like it couldnât stop reacting, clenching greedily every time he bottomed out.
âThatâs it,â he murmured, and this time his voice was almost gentle, thick with approval and want, like he was trying to soothe you even as he ruined you. âCome for daddy.â
The coil then snapped violently. You came undone around him with a sob, your mewls breaking into a raw, desperate wail as pleasure tore through you. Your whole body convulsed, thighs shaking, walls clenching hard around his cock. Sylus cursed lowâguttural, wreckedâslamming deep once, twice, before he held you there, buried fully inside you as he spilled hot, his grip ironclad on your hips.
For a moment, there was nothing but ragged breathing. Your body trembled beneath his, overstimulated and shaking apart, your tail going taut and then twitching weakly as you tried to recover.
His thumb traced slow, grounding lines up your spineâfirm and reassuring, a gentle reminder that you were safe. That he had you.
âThatâs my good girl,â Sylus murmured against your shoulder, voice possessive and warm. âMy kitten sounded so beautiful when she came for me.â
Then, Sylus shifted back just enough to draw his knot from your entrance a fraction. The movement made you whine, your walls clenching instinctively as if to keep him there. You felt a warm, generous mouthful of saliva slip from his lips and coat your slick, swollen entranceâhis breath shuddering as he watched it, as if the sight alone tightened his control into something thin and trembling. His next push slipped his thickness back into you with sinful ease, and when his hips finally pressed flush against yours, he collapsed over you again with a groan. One elbow sank into the pillow beside your head while the other held your hips tilted just right, keeping you offered as he emptied himself deepâso deep it felt like it kissed the very center of you.
âSo tight,â he rasped, voice shaking. âSo good⌠mine.â
âDaddyâah!â you cried, breathing matching his as his knot throbbed inside your walls. The stretch bordered on uncomfortable, but your body still pulsed with pleasure, your clit throbbing between your thighs like a desperate plea for relief. Your nipples pressed hard against the bed beneath you, sensitivity spiking with every shallow breath.
It took him a minuteâhe stayed buried, panting, trembling, fighting to stay gentle even as his instincts urged him to claim you harder. But soon Sylus shifted again, cock and knot pushing and pulling inside you with slow insistence, and your breath caught sharply when the heavy grind pressed into your g-spot like mortar and pestle, crushing pleasure into you until you felt faint.
âF-fuckâŚâ you choked, voice barely there.
You hadnât even realized his knot had receded enough for him to move properly again until he drew back and pushed right back into you with a slick sound loud enough to make heat crawl up your cheeks. Your ears flicked in embarrassed sensitivity, tail twitching weakly as if the sound alone made you feel exposed.
His hand came up to cradle your head, fingers threading gently through your hairâsoothing you, grounding youâwhile his cock pulsed deep inside you, still hard, still claiming. He pressed a kiss to your temple, slow and warm, as if he couldnât help himself.
You barely had time to catch your breath before he moved again, hips snapping forward, driving into you with renewed force.
Soon the only sounds filling the room were the slap of his hips each time they met your ass, the wet squelch of him sinking deep, and the occasional broken crack of your mewlsâsoft, choked, sweet. Sylusâ growls threaded between them, low and vibrating, a wolfâs satisfaction wrapped in human restraint.
You whimpered helplessly, mind fogged, body trembling⌠but it wasnât enough. Not when it was him. Not when you wanted to be claimed over and over again until the ache turned into something permanent, something that lived under your skin.
Every thrust, every sharp slap of his hips against your ass, sent sensation ricocheting through you. Your thighs shook, your body tightening around him as another coil started to formâunbidden and overwhelming. Your heat pooled low and heavy in your belly, thick and demanding, your clit throbbing with every drag of his cock against that aching place inside you.
You could barely breathe. Barely think.
Your entire world narrowed down to the weight of him pressed tight to your back, his hand in your hair, his warmth surrounding you like a shield. Even his scentâwild and comfortingâwrapped around your senses until there was nothing left of you that wasnât tuned to him.
And when his fingers slipped down to your clit again, rubbing rough, careless circles, the pleasure hit sharp and blinding. Your moans broke apart into desperate, choked sounds, your body trembling uncontrollably as another orgasm surged up without warning.
When it hit, it tore through you completely. Your body convulsed, a fresh wave spilling out as you cried out, overwhelmed, tears sliding down your cheeks. Your pussy clamped and fluttered, milking him greedily as if it couldnât stop.
âFuck,â Sylus groaned, his rhythm faltering as he felt you fall apart again beneath himâhis breath breaking, his control slipping into a low, shaking sound that rumbled like a growl against the back of your neck.
And still, even as he wrecked you, his hand tightened gently in your hairâsteadying, soothingâbecause no matter how wild the wolf became, he never stopped holding you like you were his heart.
You could barely think. Your whole body trembled beneath him, thighs quivering uncontrollably, head spinning from the dizzying mix of overstimulation and pleasureâ from the way he had filled you so completely it felt like your body didnât know what to do with the fullness. Your sounds came out wrecked and broken, reduced to breathless cries that cracked in your throat. Tears kept sliding down your cheeks, warm and helpless, as if your body couldnât hold anything back anymoreânot sensation, not emotion.
And then Sylus slid out of you completely. The sudden emptiness made you whimper instantly, your walls clenching around nothing, your tail giving a weak, frantic twitch against the sheets. Your legs trembled, trying to close on instinct, but there was nothing there to hold onto anymoreânothing except the aching need he had carved into you.
It didnât last long. Sylusâ hands gripped your hips and he manhandled you gently, shifting you with that careful strength of hisâwolfish power wrapped in devotionâas he flipped you onto your back. Your ears flicked, oversensitive to the sound of the sheets rustling, to the heavy way he breathed above you, to the low growl that lingered in his chest like he couldnât bear the distance.
âI need to see you,â he groaned breathlessly, eyes dark and hungry as they locked onto yours. âNeed to kiss you.â
His arms circled around your back and he claimed your mouth in a heated kiss that stole what little air you had left. It wasnât just lustâit felt like he was trying to touch your soul, trying to say everything he didnât have the courage to confess with words. His mouth moved against yours like he couldnât get enough, like kissing you was the only thing that made him feel grounded. And just as fast as he had left you, he entered you again.
You gasped sharply into his mouth as he pushed back into your tight, soaked heat, the stretch blooming into something deep and dizzying. Your claws curled reflexively against his shoulders, holding onto him like you were afraid youâd float apart otherwise. He sank all the way inside with a slow, steady push, and the sound you made was halfway between a sob and a moan, your body instantly pulsing around him in greedy, helpless recognition.
Sylus shuddered, a low rumble vibrating through his chest as if the wolf in him had settled the moment he was back where he belonged.
Once he was fully inside again, he rolled his hips forward in one slow, deep stroke. You cried out, back arching off the bed as the motion dragged through you inch by inch, intimate and consuming. His thrusts stayed carefulâcontrolledâslow enough that you felt every ridge and vein, every deep press that made your vision blur.
He didnât pull out far. Only enough to rock inside you, gentle and achingly deep, as if he wanted the closeness more than anything. Like he didnât want to be separated from you even for a second.
He kissed your lips againâthen your cheek, your jaw, his nose brushing your skin in little, instinctive nuzzles that made your stomach twist. His breath was warm and damp, his scent thick around youâwolf, desire, and something softer beneath it that felt like home.
âYouâre perfect,â he whispered against your mouth. âSo warm⌠so tight⌠so good for me.â
Your ears flicked and your tail curled weakly as the praise sank into you, settling somewhere deep in your chest. You whimpered, eyes glossy as you stared up at him, your heart pounding too hard to feel real.
And he kept movingâslow, deep, worshipfulâlike he was savoring every second of being inside you. The angle was perfect. So deep, so consuming, that Sylus gradually picked up his pace, leaving you a breathless, whimpering mess beneath him. His strokes lengthened, hips rolling forward in long, languid thrusts that made the bed creak softly. The room filled with the wet, desperate sound of slick skin meeting slick skin again and again, every noise making your cheeks burn and your body clench tighter.
Every time he sank into you, his pelvic bone dragged against your throbbing clit, and you cried out his name in pure, helpless ecstasyâlouder than you meant to, more needy than you could stop. âSylusâ!â
âYouâre taking me so well, sweetheart,â he whispered, voice warm and adoring as he leaned down, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His lips brushed your skin, his breath shuddering like he couldnât stop himself from breathing you in. âDoing so⌠so good for me.â
Soft grunts fell from him whenever he hit that specific deep spot inside you, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as pleasure tore through him. You whimpered when his mouth returned to yours, capturing your lips in a heated, dizzying kiss that made your head spin harder.
One of his hands slipped down between your bodies, finding your clit with practiced ease. He rubbed two slow, deliberate circles over your sensitive nubâtesting, coaxing.
You jerked against him with a sharp gasp. Sylusâ eyes darkened even more, his breath hitching as he watched you react.
When he slid into a hidden pressure point deep in your coreâpaired with the relentless way his fingers circled your clitâyou clenched around him like a vise. Your eyes rolled back as pleasure surged violently through you, overwhelming and new, almost frightening in how fast it built. Your whimpers climbed higher, turning into breathless, broken cries as he picked up his pace, fucking you deeper, the sound of his breathing growing ragged.
âI love you, kitten,â Sylus moaned, lips curling into a soft, tender smile as he watched your face contortâso overwhelmed, so beautifully undone just for him. The words sounded like truth, like devotion spilling out without permission. Filth and praise slipped from his mouth like honey, messy and reverent all at once. âThis pussy was made for me.â
You shuddered, eyes stinging again, heart clenching painfully at how sweet and possessive it felt coming from him.
His mouth covered yours again, swallowing every little noise you made, smothering your trembling breaths. Your body trembled under him, tail flicking weakly as the tightness in your belly returned, coiling and pulling tighter with every thrust, every touch, every kiss he gave you.
Your whimpers and gasps grew louder as ecstasy flooded your senses. Sylusâ hands couldnât get enough of youâsliding over your hips, your waist, your backâtouching you like he wanted to memorize you, like he was terrified this wasnât real. His palms lingered, his thumbs stroking soothing lines that contradicted the hungry way his hips drove into you.
You whimpered at the speed of his thrusts, feeling another orgasm build rapidly. Your legs locked around his hips, clinging to him, pulling him closer. Sylus felt it tooâthe way you squeezed around him with every strokeâso he drove harder into your heat, shifting his hips with careful precision, searching for the exact spot he knew would shatter you.
Your arms trembled as they wrapped around him, nails digging into his back. It earned a deep, helpless groan from himâhalf pleasure, half restraint snapping. The coil in your belly tightened, tingling down your legs, trembling on the edge of breaking.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he whispered, voice strained as though the words physically hurt him. He cursed softly when you tightened around him on purpose, your body greedily clenching as if to keep him trapped inside you forever.
âPleaseâŚâ you moaned, mind hazy with want, eyes glossy as you looked up at him. Your ears flicked forward, your body practically pleading without even moving.
âYou want to cum, sweetheart?â he asked, voice thick, tender, wrecked.
You nodded frantically, biting your lip as your body trembled beneath him. You bucked up instinctively, chasing him, nails sinking into his skin. His hand moved back to your clit, pressure firm and perfect, while his other hand found yours. He intertwined your fingers, squeezing onceâan anchorâbefore pinning them gently to the bed like he didnât want you to get lost in it.
He rubbed your clit with slow insistence, just enough to drag the pleasure higher and higher until you couldnât breathe properly.
âCum for me, kitten,â Sylus demanded softly, voice warm against your cheek, more devotion than command.
And when he nudged that one perfect spot inside youâpaired with his deep voice and the way his eyes never left your faceâyou exploded. You shattered, coming undone so violently it ripped a cry of his name from your throat. Blood rushed in your ears, drowning out the sound of your own sobbing breaths. Sylus crashed his lips onto yours, swallowing every broken noise as if he didnât want anyone else to hear them, as if he wanted them all for himself.
Your head fell back, back arching sharply, your tail going rigid for a second as your body twisted under the force of release. Pleasure rolled through you in heavy waves, leaving you trembling and helpless.
Sylus groaned into your ear as your walls spasmed around him, clenching desperately, beggingâneeding him to stay, to fill you, to never let you go.
âFuckâŚâ he moaned, pushing himself up as he thrust harder, deeper, the head of his cock hitting your spot repeatedly. His voice cracked with need. âI need to fill you up again, kitten.â
You were dazed, trembling, but you still nodded vigorously, whining as overstimulation mixed with want. Your pussy squeezed around him in greedy pulses, like it was answering him. âPleaseâŚâ
His hips stuttered, thrusts turning sloppy as the pleasure overtook him, his control finally slipping through his fingers. Thenâwith a raw, broken moanâhe spilled inside you again.
As he came, his mouth moved to the junction between your neck and shoulder. His canines sank into your skin in a marking bite, instinctive and claiming. His teeth stayed embedded for a moment, and somehow you barely felt painâonly a hot rush of oversensitivity and the dizzying intimacy of being chosen. Being kept.
A soft, shocked sound left youâhalf moan, half whineâas he held you through it, encouraging your hips to grind against him even as his knot kept you plugged, sealing him inside while he emptied against your cervix again.
You mewled at the sensation, warmth flooding your core and spreading thickly through your walls as he stayed buried deep. Your ears fluttered with every sound he made, and when your hearing finally clearedâwhen the blood rushing through your ears calmedâyou could hear him.
Soft, happy growls. Content, satisfied noises that vibrated against your skin while his tongue soothed the indents of his teeth. His canines still nipped you now and then, more like affectionate little reminders than anything else, and you found yourself smiling through the haze, relaxing completely against him.
Sylus licked the sweat from your skin, nuzzling you happily, his nose brushing your cheek and temple like a wolf who couldnât stop checking that you were still thereâstill his.
Everything stayed blurred and soft when you came back to yourself fully. Your body ached, but in the sweetest wayâcompletely relaxed, thoroughly ruined, glowing with an exhaustion that felt like bliss. Your tail lay limp against the sheets now, finally still, and your ears only twitched faintly when Sylus shifted above you.
Once youâd both caught your breath, Sylus leaned his forehead against yours, eyes softening into blissful awe. He kissed you tenderlyâslow and careful, like he was savoring the simple fact that he could.
âThat wasâŚâ he breathed, smiling down at you like he couldnât believe you were realâyour hair tousled, skin flushed, lips swollen from his kisses. His thumb brushed gently under your eye, wiping away the last trace of tears.
âSo good,â you rasped, voice hoarse and hazy with pleasure. âPerfect.â You cleared your throat softly, smiling up at him even as you still trembled.
Your skin was sweaty and sticky, but he didnât care. He looked at you like you were beautiful in a way that hurt. You felt his knot soften slightly, his cock still half-hard inside you, and he pulled you closer, hands roaming lovingly over every inch of skin he could reach. He was still dazed tooâstill caught on how breathtaking you looked when you came apart for him⌠because of him.
Overwhelmed with affection, you cupped his cheeks in both hands, thumbs stroking softly over his flushed skin, and pulled him down into another kiss. This one was slow, tender, deepâfull of emotion. Full of everything the two of you had been too afraid to say.
And that was how the rest of the night went. Tangled limbs, soft kisses, quiet nuzzles, Sylusâ warm hands tracing you like he never wanted to stop. Your purr-like little sighs when he holds you close, his low, satisfied rumbles when you melted into him. Intimate touches that werenât rushed, werenât desperateâjust yours.
You felt loved. Safe. Claimed in the gentlest way. At home in his embrace.
part i of the boyfriend continuum (masterlist)
pairing: gojo x reader
mdni, 18+
contains: smut, time travel fix-it, two gojos in the same hole, your boyfriend and your husband hate each other but will play nice for you, reader is greedy and deserves both, size kink, choking, spit as lube, ass play, creampies (duh), subspace and aftercare if you squint (itâs just that reader wants to go again), scarred (mentally, emotionally, physically) gojo satoru (yum)
word count: ~2.3k
Your talismans give out the moment he arrives.Â
(The last time that happened was with Suguru, when he came back forâ)
You feel him first before you get to see himâthe heady way his cursed energy fills the room, his signature surrounding you, in what feels like tendrils thrumming around your formâthat inescapably protective way that happens whenever youâre with him.Â
Youâre in his arms in one stilted breath, his face buried in your neck from behind. And you know in your heart that itâs your Satoru, but why is his energy heavierâdarkerâeven worse than when Riko died?Â
âSatoru,â you begin, turning to face him. You run your hands along his arms soothingly when you notice it.
Scars, everywhere. Raised, imperfect skin beneath your fingers. Wounds that shouldnât have happened with infinity, much less reversed cursed technique.Â
You pull away from him in shock, turning around to face the man who you thought was invincible, and what you realize is thisâ
He is your Satoru. Only heâs broader, older, with the same wounds on his face and an equally pained expression when he recognizes that look on yours. Satoru recoils when your hands reach for him.Â
âWhat happened?â you let out an anguished cry, pulling him forward to look him in the eye. âWho did thisââ The air shifts violently before you can finish, and another pair of handsâunblemished, perfect, your definition of safeâholds you back.Â
âWho the fuck are you?â Gojo Satoru snarls.Â
âWho else can I be?â the other Satoru taunts. âYou have the Six Eyes.âÂ
âThis is impossible,â your boyfriend scoffs. âBaby, go somewhere safeââÂ
âYou think Iâd ever hurt her?â the other Gojo growls. âI came back because I couldnât bear losing her again.â
âWhat?â Satoru breathes, his voice colder than itâs ever been. âWhat do you mean?âÂ
The room goes still. Youâre both stunned, not knowing what to make of his declaration, of envisioning a world where you no longer exist and where he couldnât protect you.Â
Satoruâs mouth forms a thin line, betraying nothing.Â
The silence lingers and the weight of his words sinks in. Itâs enough to set off the younger Gojo, and in an instant, his fist drives into the other manâs jawâa clean, brutal move driven by anger and disbelief.
âYou let something happen to her?!â he shouts, enraged. âYou donât fucking deserve to be here, as if you get to have redemption.â Satoru seizes him by the shoulders and slams him into the wall, the impact reverberating through the room. Yet the other Gojo only sinks back, refusing to retaliate, with a hollow look in his eyes that you canât take.Â
You push your way through, blocking your boyfriend from taking another hit.Â
âStop it,â you grit out. âYou donât get to touch him anymore,â you challenge, tilting your chin up defiantly. Â
âBut he doesnât belong here,â Satoru pleads, desperation slipping into his voice. âBaby, let me take care of this.âÂ
âNo,â you say, ânot until he explains.âÂ
Then, quieter, to the man whoâs already seen too muchâ
Satoru.Â
Tell me.
And so he does.Â
He tells you how Geto Suguruâs body was desecrated, how the King of Curses was revived in an innocent boy, how he was sealedâaloneâin the Prison Realm. How everything fell apart after that.
How the higher-ups called him a traitor.
They came for everyone close to him, and they came for you first.Â
And when he finally broke free, the world felt wrongâtoo dull, too hollow. You were nowhere to be found, the hum of your cursed energy that used to steady him through everythingâgone. It took only one look from Shoko to confirm the dread that he felt in his gutâthat the earth had gone still where you used to be.Â
When he finishes, the silence between you is heavy.Â
You step toward him before you can think. His head bows when your hand rises to his cheek, fingers ghosting over the faint swell where your boyfriendâs punch landed. The warmth of his skin startles youâitâs the warmth of someone real, of someone whoâs bled and lived through everything heâs just said.
He leans into your touch like heâs starved for it and catches your wrist, pressing his lips to your pulse once, twice, as if to prove youâre here.
âSatoru,â you breathe, but it comes out as a whine.Â
The way you say his name breaks something in him. You press your forehead to his, feeling his breath falter against your lips. His hands find your waist, tentative, as though heâs afraid you wonât want his touch. As if thereâs ever a world where you wouldnât want him.Â
Behind you, your boyfriend watches, his anger melting into something quieter. When your gaze meets his, it feels like standing in the aftermath of a storm. He steps forward until youâre pressed between them; two bodies, same soul. For a heartbeat, all that cursed energyâlimitless and fracturedâwraps around you in a pulse that feels human.
There are no words left. You donât know who makes the first move, just that you feel Gojoâs lips on yours, and his mouth trailing kisses along your shoulder, breath ghosting over your ear. For him, you taste like homecoming and something new all at once. Your hands find his face, tracing the faint ridges of old scars, the heat that blooms beneath them, and he leans into you as if your touch alone can heal him. Â
His eyes are still that startling, beautiful blue.Â
Your Satoru, more so after everything.Â
You donât know who teleports you to the bedroom, just that hands begin to peel off your clothes, gripping over your flesh as kisses trail lower. Your boyfriend finally kisses you as he cups your breasts into an offering for Gojo to close his mouth over, hungrily laving over your pebbled peaks. You whine into Satoruâs mouth, gripping another set of white locks when a warm hand glides over your cunt, dragging the rough denim over your sensitive bud. You moan, following a cue to lay down as the other Gojo makes his way between your legs. His boyish smile is the last thing you see before his mouth closes over you, his hot tongue lapping up your slit as you drag him closer.Â
âF-fuck,â you whimper, making a soft, helpless sound as he begins to finger you, humming contentedly and sucking on your clit with the stretch.Â
âTaste so sweet,â Gojo groans. âIâve missed this.â He renews his effort on your cunt, messily eating you out as his fingers piston in and out of you, your core tightening over them as he curls against your sweet spot.Â
âSa-toââ you stutter, your body shaking as an orgasm fast approaches. âIâm gânna cum,â you say helplessly, barely noticing your boyfriend making his way over.Â
Satoru tilts your chin up, studying the dazed look on your face. âFucked out already?â your cocky boyfriend teases. Yet your words fail you; all that leaves your mouth are needy, breathless sounds that pitch higher when Gojoâs third finger joins the ones already inside of you.Â
âOpen,â Satoru orders, and you do, letting his thick member slip past your lips, savoring his heady taste and carefully tracing his length with your tongue. You donât last long like this, throat constricting around his cock as your other Satoru licks you and plunges his fingers in deeply. When Gojo closes his mouth over you, it isnât hunger that drives himâitâs devotion and the need to remember.
You want him just as much as you ache for him, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes as the next flick of his tongue crests you over, gushing into his mouth just as Satoru buries himself to the hilt, finishing down your throat. Spit and cum pool at your lips and chin, but they move to kiss you anyway, hungrily claiming your mouth as youâre shared between the two of them. Satoru playfully licks at your drool before letting the other Gojo take you, his big hands positioning you right over his cock as he looks up, seeking permission.
You sink into him as an answer, eyes fluttering shut at the stretch his cock gives you. You think shyly that heâs bigger here, too, and you open your eyes to playfully glare at him.Â
âSânot fair,â you pout. He throws you a knowing look, canting his hips up to gauge your reaction. Your breath hitches just as his tip nudges against your cervix, looking down to see the rest of him left to go. You think briefly that this canât possibly work, but soon enough youâre taking all that he can give, holding onto him tightly as you bite down, leaving deep, purpling marks down his throat.Â
âSâtoru,â you stammer, âright there, please.â He indulges you, pushing your hips down his last few inches, barely letting you adjust to the thickest part of him before he resumes, pistoning in and out steadily, unrelenting until you unravel, your cum streaming and glistening down his length.Â
Even with him weakly pulsing inside of you, the stretch almost feels unbearable, searing in a way only you deserve to know; so when Satoru kneels and positions his wet tip against your filled entrance, you only arch your hips higher, wordlessly urging him on.Â
You want them to ruin you, two versions of the same man you have no choice but to love. The world softens when Satoru places his palm down your back, pressing you tighter against your other lover as he prepares you for the first thrust. A hand reaches around to graze your clit, just enough of a distraction as Satoru pushes past the tight ring of your cunt; then, everything narrows down to the pain and the pleasure that you feel. You forget how to breathe, how to think, surrendering instead to the instinctual agreement between themâhow they synchronize their thrusts, never leaving you empty; how they ease in, bit by bit, even though you know you can take itâ
They pick up the pace when you start to push back, the pleasure fogging your brain and turning it into mush. Satoru closes a hand around your throat from behind, adjusting your pliant body into an arch.
âGood fucking girl,â he grunts, âyou like having two cocks inside of you?âÂ
You would have bitten back a response if you didnât feel so euphoric. You cry out instead, screaming when you feel a rough palm strike the soft flesh of your ass. You whine pitifully, cunt clenching and gushing even more slick.Â
âI think she likes that,â the older Satoru muses. âThink I can make her cum first?âÂ
Itâs a cheap dig, but your boyfriend takes the bait anyway, hand closing harder around your throat while he strokes palm lovingly down your curves. Gojo continues stroking your clit when Satoru does something mean, his spit landing on your puckered hole, followed by his thumb teasingly spreading it open.Â
âSorry, babyâŚit just looked so lonely,â Satoru says sulkily. Another glob of spit messily lands on your hole when his thumb inches forward, and he doesnât even get to do much before your vision blurs. White-hot pleasure wracks through you as you scream out, the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm giving way to another, tighter release from the languid way they continue to fuck you.
âSo fucking perfect,â the older Gojo murmurs, pushing away tendrils of your hair to pepper you with kisses, hand cupping your chin for his thumb to feel over your pulse point, feeling the steady thrum of your heart.Â
ââm not gonna last long,â Satoru groans, hips stuttering as he tries to please you further, his thumb still running slow, lazy circles against your other hole. You giggle into your other Satoruâs neck, pushing back teasingly and clenching down one last time before they spill into you.Â
When they fill you, you feel weightless, complete. The pleasurable haze in your brain transforms into something cozier, warmer as they murmur words of admiration into your skin, delivering soothing touches and carefully pulling out.Â
You lay mindlessly in the aftermath, letting Gojo caress you as Satoru goes to the bathroom to fetch a towel. When he returns, you two are pressed close. Youâre tracing over his scars carefully and the intimacy impossible to ignore.
âEhem,â Satoru interrupts, clearing his throat. âIâm still her boyfriend, you know.âÂ
Gojo is undeterred, lazily hooking an arm around you, his eyes meeting Satoruâs over your shoulder. âAnd sheâs my wife.âÂ
Satoru sputters. âWhaâhey, thatâs not fair!â Your boyfriendâs cheeks heat up, flushing a bright red all the way down his chest.Â
âSo I do say yes to you, huh?â you tease, biting your lip as Satoru avoids your gaze.Â
âLook at me, baby,â you coo, just as Gojo turns your head to capture your lips, murmuring a quiet leave him against your smile. You oblige, facing him fully to immerse yourself.Â
âI just donât think the bedâs big enough for the three of us,â Satoru grouses.Â
âIt absolutely is,â you retort, continuing to kiss your other Gojoâsucking on his bottom lip wetly as you rake your fingers down his undercut. He shivers and you absolutely melt.Â
âI think he should stay on the couch.âÂ
âAbsolutely not.â
âBut heâs on my spotââÂ
âHe belongs here, Satoru,â you purr, ignoring your pouting boyfriend. You finally turn to face him, a challenging look on your face. âNo need to kick him out.â He opens his mouth to protest but you cut him off.Â
âBesides,â you say, feigning pity, lazily gazing at the both of themâ
 â...Was that all you got?â
author's note: unfortunately, EYE am a gojo's dick gets bigger in the prison realm truther and i will be making it everybody's problem
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