you make me wanna make you fall in love! w/hopeful-yet-disappointed!lads
domestic days w/Down Bad!lads
asking for a friend (i swear!) w/ confused!lads
wrong recipient, right reaction? w/ established relationship!lads
undercover manwhore?! w/ guilty-as-charged!lads
kiss and tell show w/pathetic!lads
my notes, but your problem! w/just there for the ride!lads
long time, no see (i knew you'd come back for me) w/abandoned!lads
reactions:
the "current boyfriend" is currently pissed w/ xavier, rafayel, and caleb w/ zayne and sylus
slice of life:
the beginning
non-mc:
and i try, i try, i try (it takes over my whole life)
summary: The morning after and its' bitter consequences
wc: 2.4k
series masterlist
Zayne had too much wine.
You know that, because Zayne is kissing you as the two of you fumble into the hotel room, the door clicking shut behind you in a way that makes your heart stutter. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, tasting faintly of the sweet red he'd downed with such abandon at dinner. He's never kissed you before, but he's remarkably good at it. His mouth moves with a confidence that makes your knees weak, his hand cradling your jaw.
The room is dark, lit only by the sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, but you don't need light to feel him. His body is pressed against yours, firm and solid, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart through his shirt. Or maybe that's yours.
"Z-Zayne." You gasp between open-mouthed kisses, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his collar. He sighs against your lips, and his fingers find the zipper at the back of your dress. He fiddles with it, his movements slightly clumsy, whether from the wine or from nerves, you can't tell.
"Tell…tell me if you want to stop, and I will." His voice is rougher than usual, husky with want, and his face is flushed, clearly more affected by the alcohol than you'd expected. His eyes search yours, and you can see the effort it takes him to form the words. Perhaps if you were stone cold sober, this would be a bad idea, a terrible idea, a friendship-ruining, life-complicating catastrophe. But you're tipsy too, warm and floaty and so desperately in love with him that it hurts, so you're shaking your head instead.
“Please don’t stop.”
The words leave your lips before you can second-guess them, and the way his eyes darken at your response sends a thrill down your spine. He presses his lips to yours once again, pulling you in by the back of your neck. You can't help but sigh into the kiss, your head spinning, the world narrowing to just the feel of him against you. You almost couldn't believe this was happening. Zayne, your Zayne, the man you'd pined over for so long, kissing you.
Even as your back hits the mattress, and Zayne is carefully, so carefully, like you might break, pulling away your clothes, you can hardly believe it. Your dress pools around your waist, then vanishes entirely. His hands are gentle as they trace the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist. Were the two of you really going to do this? Cross this line, never to return to your normal friendship? Would you wake up tomorrow and regret this, or would you treasure it forever, even if it meant losing him?
Fuck it.
"Let me do it?" You murmur as he reaches for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers brushing his away. He lets you, his eyes half-lidded as they watch you slowly undo each button, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. You let the pads of your fingers trail over his heated skin as you push the fabric off his body, mapping the lines of his chest, the hollow of his collarbone, the subtle tremble of his muscles beneath your touch. The way he shivers at your fingertips makes you bold, and you let your hands move lower, tracing the waistband of his pants.
“Let me take care of you first.” He murmurs, his hand catching your wrist and sealing it with a kiss as your bodies sink onto the mattress. You're clad in only your underwear now, and Zayne hooks his fingers beneath the lace, pulling it off slowly. He watches your reaction as he does so, his gaze never leaving your face, searching for discomfort, for hesitation, for any sign that you want to stop. You do your best to push down your nerves, suddenly very aware that you are fully naked in front of Zayne, exposed in every possible way. But he doesn't give you much time to sit with the fear, moving to kiss you once more, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat.
His eyes, when they meet yours, are so full of adoration, tender and vulnerable in a way you've never seen from him, that it lets you toss all inhibitions aside. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, and surrender yourself to the moment completely.
You didn’t want to regret a moment of this night.
When you wake up, the first thing you realize is that you're incredibly disoriented. Your mouth feels like cotton, your tongue thick and uncooperative, and your head is spinning in nauseating circles. For a long, groggy moment, you can't piece together where you are, before it all comes rushing back.
The second thing you notice is that you’re naked.
Your jaw drops, a sound escaping your throat as you hurriedly clutch the blanket to your chest, as if that would make your nakedness any better. The fabric is cool against your heated skin, and you're acutely aware of every inch of exposed flesh, every memory that's slowly trickling back in fragments.
You risk a glance next to you, already knowing what you'll see, but needing to see it anyway.
Zayne is still fast asleep, his dark hair a disaster against the pillow, completely shirtless. The sheets are pooled around his waist, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest and the sharp line of his shoulders. You'd be admiring how peaceful he looks when he sleeps, how the tension melts from his face and his lips part slightly with each slow exhale, if you weren't so distracted by the hickies littering his chest and neck. A vivid purple bruise blooms just below his collarbone. Another traces the curve of his shoulder. There's a faint scratch mark down his chest that makes your face burn.
Well, you definitely remember being excited.
You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to piece together the night before. The wine. The way Zayne's cheeks had flushed after finishing his glass. The way he'd leaned in close at dinner, his voice dropping to that low register that made your stomach flip. The walk back to the room. How he'd pinned you against the door the moment it clicked shut.
Oh god.
After checking three times to make sure he's fully asleep, you slip out of bed as quietly as humanly possible. Your legs are shaky, and you nearly trip over his shirt on the floor, but you manage to reach the bathroom and shut the door behind you, breathing out in relief the moment the lock clicks.
Okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
You lean against the cool marble counter, pressing your palms flat against the surface and staring at your reflection. Your hair is a wild mess. Your lips are slightly swollen. There's a mark on your neck that you quickly look away from. You look like you've had the night of your life, which, if you're being honest with yourself, you absolutely did.
The night before is completely clear in your mind now, every detail flooding back in vivid color. You remember every kiss, every touch, every whispered word. You were a little tipsy, you both were, but you weren't drunk. At least, not enough to blame it on alcohol. You remember the way his hands had trembled slightly as they traced your sides, the way he'd looked at you, the way he’d said your name. You remember all of it. And you didn’t regret a moment.
Hopefully, Zayne didn’t either.
God, what the hell does this mean?
You have to resist the urge to pull your hair out, your fingers twitching at your sides. This was insane. How are you supposed to move past this? Spend the rest of the trip together? Share a bed tonight like nothing happened? Go back to your carefully constructed friendship like you hadn't seen him completely undone beneath you?
No, you know what, it's fine. You've handled worse. Maybe it would be best to just pretend this never happened. Maybe, now that you've gotten this out of your system, you can finally give up on Zayne, finally extinguish that stubborn flame of hope, and move on with your life. One night of passion. A final goodbye before you let him go completely.
You take an incredibly long shower, standing under the hot spray until your fingers prune. The water pounds against your shoulders, and though a part of you mourns washing off the remnants of the night before, the scent of his cologne still clinging to your skin, the ghost of his touch, you scrub yourself clean anyway. You wish your worries would slip away with the water, swirl down the drain and disappear, but that's not how life plays out. No, you'd be lucky to forget about this, to pretend nothing happened.
But could you?
By the time you step out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fluffy hotel robe that smells faintly of lavender, Zayne is awake. He's propped up against the headboard, the sheet still pooled around his waist, his hair adorably rumpled. He looks like he's been waiting.
You meet his eyes and freeze, your tongue suddenly frozen in your mouth. The words you'd rehearsed in the shower evaporate entirely. Not that you'd been prepared to talk to him right now, but still.
"Are you feeling alright?" His voice is raspy, rough with sleep, and it sends flashes of the night before rocketing to the forefront of your mind. The way he'd leaned in and murmured in your ear about if it felt good, if his touch was what you wanted. The way his voice had dropped lower, as his co-
Nevermind.
"Yeah, I'm alright." You force the words out, your voice steadier than you feel. "Are you…okay?" You don't really know why you're asking, but it seems the polite thing to do. The way you'd ask any friend after a shared night.
“I suppose I’ve learned my limit with alcohol. Otherwise, yes.” He hums, sitting up a bit more and pushing his hair back from his forehead. The movement draws your attention to the marks on his chest again, and you have to physically look away.
He doesn't seem very confused, so he must remember everything. There's no dawning horror on his face, no panicked questions. Just calm acceptance. But…he's not asking what it means. Not even a hint of curiosity about where you stand now. So he must already know. Surely, he agrees. It was just a one-time thing. A release of tension. It didn't mean anything.
"Should…should we talk about last night?" The words slip out before you can stop them, fear loosening your tongue. You need to hear him say it. Need to confirm what you've been so terrified of.
"Do we need to?"
There it is.
The words land like a slap. A small part of you, the tiny piece of flickering hope that had dared, dreamed, prayed, goes out instantly. Like a candle snuffed by a careless hand. You didn't need to talk about things that meant nothing. Last night had meant nothing. Just as you'd suspected. Just as you'd prepared yourself for.
"I guess not." You hear yourself say, your voice hollow and distant. "I'm gonna get dressed now. There's a couple of group activities today so we should get going."
Your voice doesn't quite sound like your own, too brittle, but Zayne doesn't say a word. Like you'd expected from someone who, apparently, was just a friend. He simply nods, his expression unreadable, and you turn away before he can see the tears threatening to spill.
The rest of the day is a blur. And every day after it. You smile and pretend at breakfast, laugh at jokes you don't find funny, fill your days with meaningless activities and forced conversation. You go to bed in complete silence, the space between you on the mattress feeling like a canyon. Zayne has been different since that night, quieter and more withdrawn. Gone was the flirty, confident Zayne that had accompanied you on this trip, the one who slipped his hand into yours and remembered how you liked your sandwiches. He'd gotten what he wanted, you assumed. He didn't need to pretend anymore.
You tried to pretend it didn’t hurt as much as it did.
You're almost grateful for the last day of the trip, the bitter relief of an ending. While everyone else mourns the vacation, you crave the familiarity of your own home, your own bed, your own life where you don't have to see the man who broke your heart every single day. This had been a horrible mistake. Not only had you ruined a perfectly respectable relationship with your doctor, someone who'd have to examine you and pretend nothing happened, you'd lost a close friend. The person you trusted most in the world.
And probably the love of your life. But it doesn’t seem to count if he doesn’t love you back.
Well, the trip is over. Now you can finally move on. Hopefully.
You don't speak to Zayne the whole train ride back. It's not for his lack of trying; you feel his gaze on you constantly, a heavy weight you can't escape. Sometimes you catch him staring, his mouth opening as if about to say something, but then you look over and he looks away, jaw tightening. Good. You don't want to hear whatever excuse he's crafted. You don't want to hear him try to make it better when nothing will.
"Do you need me to drive you home?" He offers as you step off the train, your bags in hand. His voice is careful, like he knows he's walking on thin ice.
“I’ll take a cab. See you around, Dr. Zayne.” You take your bags from him without meeting his eyes, your grip tight on the handles.
You're gone before he can respond, disappearing into the crowd and refusing to look back. The cab ride home is a blur of traffic and tears, and when you finally collapse into your own bed, you let yourself cry until there's nothing left.
Tomorrow, you'll move on. You'll forget him. You'll be fine.
But tonight, you let yourself mourn what could have been.
🍓Quick disclaimers: Rafayel and Xavier were written at different times from the other three (by a few months lmao), so if their styles seem different, that's why. I already posted Xavier, I know, I don't care. Finally, no Valko on this one because this is twelve thousand words AND with the recent good news, I want to save my long Valko stuff as a celebration for WHEN he is released. Anywayyyy, these are always super fun to write, but holy fuck I am never writing for five characters at once again in this format. Alsooooo, PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!!! There's some heavy stuff in here. Let me know if I missed a trigger or a tag here; these are long as hell, I feel like I must've missed something.
TW: Possessive behaviors (including marking, claiming, jealousy, etc..); Explicit Sexual Content; Voyeurism (Xavier, Caleb, Rafayel); Dom/Sub dynamics (Zayne, Sylus, Caleb); Impregnation kink (Rafayel, Implied Sylus and Caleb); Mean Dom (Zayne, Caleb); Predator Prey Dynamics (Rafayel [sort of], Sylus); Degradation (Zayne and Caleb); Pseudo Incest (Caleb); Caleb is actually a creep, I'm being 100% serious; INCREDIBLY UNREALISTIC DESCRIPTIONS OF PENISES THAT ARE NOT CANNON COMPLIANT (Rafayel and Sylus, but also everyone else probably); Discussions of mental health struggles (Mostly Caleb, slightly with Zayne); Small spoilers for story; Bits of angst (for fun)
Word Count Total: ~12.8k
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST
Xavier (Word Count: 2.6k)
A = Aftercare: Xavier… kinda sucks at aftercare. Not for lack of effort! He really does try his best to clean you up and ease your aches and pains, but he’s… he’s so tired. Like, entirely worn out, hardly conscious, tired. He always mutters praises and something soft about how much he enjoyed it, but he's not trying too hard to be thorough. For a multitude of reasons... maybe because he likes seeing you messy. Ahem. Just because he isn't actively cleaning you up or massaging you doesn't mean his cuddling and sweetness are ineffective, just... simple! He likes it simple.
B = Body part: Xavier is really fond of his hands (which will be a recurring theme for several of the men here); they’re strong and sturdy and well-trained. He’s honed precise control of them for swordplay, for using his evol, and most importantly, for your pleasure. He’s a fan of the way they sink into your skin, pillowing as he presses deep into it. He can worship you with his fingertips, singing your praises without needing words, drawing them along the planes of your skin as if mapping out his entire world.
With you, Xavier is an ass man, 100% no questions about it. He also likes your thighs, but the ass beats it out just a little. There’s not one thing about it that he likes; it’s just everything about your ass that he likes. It’s nice and round and soft, and he loves the way it jiggles when he hits it from the back. Furthermore, carrying you around with his hands planted firmly on your ass is a secret pleasure of his that he adores to indulge in.
C = Cum: Xavier likes it messy. I’m talking like all over you, messy, drooling out your pussy messy, covering your face, messy, like genuinely a menace, messy. He likes to see physical proof of his possession of you all over your body. He wishes he could permanently stain your skin with the creamy substance, but that’s not technically biologically possible.
As for the cum itself, he doesn’t really cum much in one go. It’s smaller spurts of this, like almost shimmering white, creamy-textured cum. It’s not… quite human, and it reminds you a lot of marshmallow fluff when you look at it, but it’s fun to touch and play with (please play with it; he’ll lose his mind). It tastes good too! Almost sweet, which really sells the marshmallow idea, but he assures you that it's normal, so who are you to question it?
D = Dirty secret: Xavier likes to jerk it while you’re sleeping next to him. He thinks you’re so pretty when you’re resting so peacefully next to him, all innocence and virtue in your rest. Your lips parted, and your chest rising and falling in little huffed out breaths, truly a picture of beauty. He can’t help that his mind starts to wander a little, wanting to feel those pretty little lips wrapped around him. Oh, but he could never disturb your precious sleep, so he sits there and jacks himself off so close but so far to your sleeping visage. It also extends further to other types of voyeurism, like watching you in the shower or watching you change just outside your door. He’s aware that it’s rather… unsettling, so he keeps it close to his chest for your sake.
E = Experience: He’s relatively experienced, but quite literally only with variants of you. So, he seems better than he actually is because he just knows what you like. If he were to be with someone else, he’d probably be a bit overwhelmed and unable to serve them well, but with you, he’s phenomenal. He knows all the right spots, the right ticks, everything he knows just way too well.
F = Favorite position: He’s pretty basic, but doggy style is his favorite position. The ability to watch your ass bounce back on him is heaven to his eyes. It also gives him quite a bit of control over you, which he craves more than he’s willing to say out loud. It’s primal the way that he fucks into you, draping himself over your back and drawing you along his cock over and over, endless and desperate for more. Hard, deep, fast, desperate. His hands squeeze your hips, your sides, they slide between your legs, then they come up to grip your ass and watch the way he sinks into you over and over again.
G = Goofy: He’s not very silly during the act, if at all. Sex is something he uses as a means of releasing pent-up stress and emotions that he doesn’t know how to carefully express to you. There’s this intensity about him during the act, something similar to when he’s fighting wanderers, a fire that burns behind his eyes that you can’t quite comprehend. A need for you that words cannot possibly begin to describe, and that is no laughing matter for him. If you crack jokes, he might give you an odd look because he doesn’t see what’s so funny about the situation you’re in.
H = Hair: He’s not clean-shaven, but he isn’t like a jungle down there. He keeps it clean enough, mostly because he doesn’t want it getting in the way of you when you're going down on him. There’s a nice little tuft of silvery hair, but otherwise not too much to look at.
With you, though, he couldn’t care less. So long as he gets to eat it, he’s a happy man. If you don’t have a bush? Great! Nice and smooth, more real estate for his tongue. You’re a little hairy; that’s fine; he doesn’t care. Have you got a whole forest? Wonderful, he’s not a hunter for no reason, he’s excited to navigate through that if it means he gets to hear your wonderful moans. And he means it seriously. He will fight you if you seem to imply otherwise, so unless you want a pouty Xavier, I suggest just letting it go.
I = Intimacy: While he tends to come off as a very dominant person in bed, he’s actually rather intimate. Even when he’s being rougher and more aggressive, there’s still a gentleness to how he fucks you. It’s the way he holds your hand, the way he presses his forehead to yours as he whispers dirty words in your ears, the way he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. It’s an intense energy that leaves you breathless with each thrust, filling you with all his love over and over until you’re stuffed full of it.
J = Jack off: Despite his tendency to… watch from a distance, he doesn’t actually bother jerking off by himself often. If he’s that needy, he can just go to you; you’ll help him out with that big old smile like you always do. However, if you’re busy and you really can’t help him, then… fine… he’ll use his hand. He pouts about it, though, and you can immediately tell when he does it because he seems to be upset that you weren’t the one wrapping your hand around him.
K = Kink: I already mentioned that he’s quite the voyeur, and he’s also big on watching you touch yourself. He sits there very patiently as you circle your fingers over your clit, plunge them inside your sopping hole, practically begging for him to take over. You never get to finish yourself off, though; he’s far too impatient.
He’s also very into marking you up; pretty purple love bites litter your thighs, chest, and neck. Not only this, but other markers really get him excited, like seeing you covered in his cum, having you wear his clothes, smelling his cologne on you. He loves that there’s a marker claiming you as his own for everyone to see. One glance and people can see that you belong ot him, plain and simple.
He’s also quite an exhibitionist, though he isn’t into being watched; he just likes having the ability to have you wherever he likes to. If you’re both in the mood and there’s time and a place to hide, why not? He was told once that neglecting your sexual needs could lead to tension in a relationship, so he wants to take care of your needs whenever and wherever you’re willing to.
Finally, and most obviously, he’s into somnophilia (receiving). While he’s okay waking you up with his head between his thighs, he much prefers it when the first thing he sees waking up is you peering up at him with his dick down your throat. It’s a very nice, warm welcome to reality.
L = Location: I just mentioned he’s an exhibitionist, but I want to emphasize that it’s mostly out of convenience. He can’t always wait until he gets home to relieve himself, and neither can you. If he could choose, though, he would pick his bed every time. Seeing you tangled up in his sheets, nice and cozy and heated while he fucks himself into you is always a turn on.
M = Motivation: When you piss him off, it is 100% guaranteed to get him going. Specifically, when you’re teasing him and poking fun at him for something (like Lumiere), he’ll let you go for a while, but eventually… he has to teach you a lesson about behaving. He may seem soft and sweet, but he’s a man, too; he can only handle so much of that cute little smirk before he needs you on your knees, wrapping your lips around him. Getting him jealous is also a surefire way to have him drag you away to a secluded area and fuck you until you can only say his name.
N = No: No sharing at all. It’s not a debate; it’s not up for question; it’s a no. He can’t handle the idea of someone else finding you attractive, let alone seeing them touch you. If they value their hands, they’ll keep them far, far away from your body.
O = Oral: He’s obsessed, genuinely and completely obsessed with the way you feel on his tongue. You are his favorite flavor, and he wishes every food could taste as you do. If he were to die tomorrow, he would want to be buried between your folds, drowning in your juices as he brought you to completion. It’s a messy ordeal, too, leaving his face soaking with drool and cum dripping down his chin, slopping onto his chest in a disgustingly depraved way.
P = Pace: He can go hard and rough or slow and soft; it simply depends on mood and time. He likes to take his time with you just as much as he likes to put you in your place. Sometimes he’s going so hard and fast that you can only think of his name, babbling out thank-yous and I'm-sorrys without any cognizance. Other times, he’s easing you through your orgasm, slow and easy thrusts while he hums praises and rubs his thumbs in slow circles across your hips. It’s all dependent on how you act, so if you want one kind of sex, it’s fairly easy to sway him either way if you know what triggers him.
Q = Quickie: As I’ve mentioned multiple times, he does like quickies. They’re fairly common between the two of you, being much more convenient and simpler between work and other chores you have to do. Still, he does prefer actual sessions where you can be more intimate about it all. He likes the connection he gets from being with you like this, and he can’t savor it as much as he wants when you have to be quick.
R = Risk: I don’t think he’s much of a risk-taker at all, other than the exhibitionism thing, which isn’t really risky because he’s rather careful about it. He doesn’t like putting you through unnecessary stress, and he doesn’t like the idea of seeing you in any kind of danger, even if it’s controlled by him. If you want to try more risky things, like maybe holding his sword to his throat or choking him out, that’s fine; he’ll try that for you… Not on you, though. He won’t do it for anything.
S = Stamina: He does have a lot of physical stamina; he can go for a really long time, but he gets tired easily. His mind gets foggy and his eyes droopy, and his head gets full far faster than he’d like when he’s with you. It’s overwhelming and all-encompassing, but he always pushes himself through to overstimulation. All because he just adores seeing how you squirm and react beneath him. He wants to spend just a little longer connected with you like this, if you’ll allow him that.
T = Toys: I can’t see him liking toys very much; he gets… annoyed by them. Truthfully, those silly little things can’t hold a candle to the pleasure he can bring you. It’s almost insulting for you to bring it up or even try, not when you know how he feels buried inside. He won’t throw your toys out or anything - though he’s thought about it - but if he walks in on you using them, he’s quick to prove himself better than the stupid rabbit you seem to like so much.
U = Unfair: Ohhhh, he can be mean when he wants to be. It depends on how much you’ve managed to piss him off, but he can be just unruly with how much he teases. He’ll hold you back from your orgasm for so long, and then make you cum in rapid succession over and over until you’re sobbing. His only goal is to remind you just who has the power in bed, because it’s most certainly not you.
V = Volume: He’s pretty quiet all things considered, but boy, can he talk. His normally silent and standoffish demeanor melts away to a soft-spoken dom who intends to make you listen to each word carefully. His words are all dripping with honey as he scolds you for “letting Charlie get so friendly” again, describing in detail what he’s doing to you, what he’s seeing, what he’s feeling, what he wants you to feel.
W = Wild card: He’s kinda shy about the way he is in the bedroom. It’s the very opposite of who he is as a person, so his ears burn red when you tease him about it. He isn’t embarrassed by his ability to take care of and control things in the bedroom, but he just feels shy about it when you’re the one teasing him.
X = X-ray: Xavier is pretty average in size, about five inches long, but he’s on the thicker side of things. There are no remarkable veins or marks or anything, but it’s very, very pretty. Pale like him, with the softest baby pink tip that blushes red when he’s fully erect. It curves up just slightly, so when it’s inside, it rubs along the ribbed part of your walls deliciously.
Y = Yearning: Xavier is a yearner, but he’s mostly tame compared to the other men on this list. He longs for your touch and thinks about the way you feel endlessly, but at the end of the day, he’s able to repress it pretty well. Honestly, it’s up to you to give the green flag; he won’t push for anything and can happily spend the night cuddling you rather than fuckign you into the sheets.
Z = Zzz: As mentioned in aftercare, he’s pretty quick to fall asleep after the fact. His mind is so heavy, as is his body, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in the warmth of the afterglow with you beside him.
Zayne (Word Count: 2.3k)
A = Aftercare: Zayne is fantastic at aftercare, without a doubt. He’s a doctor, so obviously he knows all the right steps to take to make sure you’re okay and with him after the fact (especially because he’s a little freak). However, he can be a little too medical about everything sometimes. It can come off as detached in some ways because he’s going through a checklist of things before he feels as though he can relax and enjoy himself. Though once that checklist is finished, he becomes the softest and sweetest mushy puddle in the palm of your hand.
B = Body part: His favorite thing about himself is his hands. They’ve worked hard to get him to the point where he can touch and hold you without fear. They care for your health, they make you your food, they caress you when you’re tired, they’re the key to you in his eyes. Without them, there would be no way for him to have you as you are; of course they’re his favorite.
With all that sweetness out of the way, he likes your tits. Those hands were made to grab at your chest, engulf whatever they can, and hold it tight. There’s just something about the soft flesh there that he can’t quite explain. Maybe it’s because he’s not supposed to be touching them so often; maybe it’s because it's a sign of trust, whatever it is… it does him good and well.
C = Cum: He has maybe the healthiest cum you’ve ever seen. It’s a perfect consistency, just the right off-white color, and not too much and not too little. The only issue is… well… it’s a little bitter. All those sweets he likes to sneak catch up to him here, and it lends to an acidic kind of taste. If it bothers you, though, he’s ready and happy to switch up your diet to attain a much more… sweet taste.
He’s pretty clean when it comes to where it goes. It’s either inside you or it’s in a condom. He doesn’t like to clean up big messes after the fact, and he finds it a bit too degrading to cum on your face or anything. Though not so much when you stick your tongue out and show him like it’s a trophy… hmm…
D = Dirty secret: Very much enjoys the idea of having you under his desk in a professional setting. He’s a bit too professional to act on it (stick-in-the-mud loser), but that doesn’t stop him from fantasizing about it in the end. You could, perhaps, convince him if you whine about it long enough… but it could also backfire and get you in trouble. Up to you if you want to push or not.
E = Experience: This nerd is a big fat virgin; he dedicated his life to becoming a doctor (for you, of course), and he had no intention of getting distracted along the way. He doesn’t have much experience, but he does have a lot of knowledge of female anatomy. Before your first time, he did a ridiculous amount of research just to make sure that he would be able to satisfy you properly. He also takes note of your likes and dislikes and adjusts himself accordingly.
F = Favorite position: He’s fine with just about anything so long as he’s on top and able to watch your reactions. His favorites lean more toward classics like missionary, but he’s also big into prone bone. He enjoys being able to keep you still and having control over your pleasure while also being able to measure how much you enjoy something he’s doing.
G = Goofy: Sex is not a laughing matter? This guy doesn’t see the appeal in making something so intimate funny. Of course, if something silly happens, he can laugh it off, but he doesn’t enjoy intentionally making the mood goofy. Sex and intimacy are serious matters to him. Take them seriously.
H = Hair: Zayne tends to keep himself trimmed and clean enough, mostly to make sure that you enjoy sucking him off. Because you do that. A lot. It’s not for any other purpose than making it easier for you. He doesn’t need your nose itching mid-blowjob. If it upsets you enough, he might consider letting it grow… but it's a low chance.
You, however, don’t need to do anything. Keep that hair on your body for the love of god or else he will fall to his knees in despair. I’m joking, mostly. Really, though, he prefers that you keep most of your bush there. It’s good for keeping you healthy and safe, plus he really likes the feel of it. Call him a creep if you will, but he likes you hairy more than he does not.
I = Intimacy: While he can be a bit of a freak, I think Zayne does see sex as the most intimate form of romance possible. You are sharing a very vulnerable experience, and as such, he wants to ensure the whole ride is comfortable and pleasant. Even when he’s being rougher or crueler, he does gentle consent checks and ensures that you are 100% for everything the two of you decide to indulge in.
J = Jack off: Believe it or not, I don’t think Zayne has much of a stigma about jerking it in his spare time. Of course, he’d much rather be with you, but in the event he can’t, he doesn’t feel much shame in doing what he must. He’s a medical professional, after all; he understands the benefits of taking care of his own sexual gratification. He’ll only ever get off on you, though. He doesn’t like porn (thinks it’s unhealthy, and it perpetuates poor culture around women (woke ass bitch. Me too. Me too.)), and he finds you and your pictures far more titillating than any random duo online.
K = Kink: The original brat tamer, he wrote the texts, basically. Really, what else could be more satisfying than reminding you of your place beneath him? Press his buttons, be a little nuisance, get him angry, you’ll regret it by the end of the night (or… not lol). Just fills him with pride, putting you back where you belong and getting you to submit like the good girl you are.
Big on eye contact, if that wasn’t obvious. Leans into his whole power play thing that he loves so much, but making sure you look at him while you’re taking it is a must. If you look away, he’ll force your chin back where it belongs and keep it there until you can be trusted to behave on your own.
He loves sensory play, ironically considering the eye contact thing. He just likes having power over you and being in control. What better way to exert that than on all of your senses? Blindfolds offer such a unique way to make you squirm, leather and silk make goosebumps rise on your skin, whispering in your ear to make your thighs rub together. Goodness, it’s such a sight. He can’t help but indulge himself a little.
Dom/Sub dynamics, if that wasn’t so fucking obvious yet. He is always the dom in the scenario, and he takes great pleasure in his role. You are reliant on him for your pleasure, so you must behave or else you’ll suffer consequences. Just a freak, man.
L = Location: “Little bedroom boy,” I said out loud while writing this. I don’t think he enjoys sex outside of his bedroom, maybe in his at-home office, but really he prefers the bedroom because it’s the most controlled space he owns. Everything he needs is already there anyway. Though he can be convinced to take you against walls and windows and whatnot if you’re really getting on his nerves. He can’t let you think you can misbehave so freely, can he?
M = Motivation: I think I’ve made this pretty clear, but you gotta annoy him and act up to get him going. Just about any way works, intentional or not. Be very careful, though, depending on how far you go, he can be hella fucking mean. Unless that's what you want… then I guess have fun not cumming all night lol.
N = No: Controversial take, I don’t think he’s willing to use his evol in bed, like at all. He sees it as such a negative trait of his, even if it has helped him before. It’s hurt you. That’s enough to scare him off from ever letting it touch your skin again. It happened once, and no matter how calm and controlled he can be, it could happen again. He won’t let it happen again.
O = Oral: Zayne prefers getting head more than he does giving. Not that he won’t, of course; he’s happy to eat you until heaven comes… but if he had to pick? Nothing really beats the sight of you on your knees between his legs. And, of course, it’s the only time you’ll get to mess around and see him come apart for you… Why wouldn’t you like it also? He enjoys taking his time with you if you’ve been good, and he’ll be a little mean if you’ve been bad. But, one thing's for sure, he’s always cumming in your mouth and you better show him before and after you swallow.
P = Pace: Generally depends on his mood, but overall he’s the type to take his time. He goes slow, and he’s really intentional with each thrust that he gives you. Zayne wants to feel you in every way possible, and the best way to do that is to take his time. That’s not to say it's soft, though. Zayne is slow, but he goes hard, especially if you’ve been misbehaving. Drags it out as a punishment, but if you’re good he’ll be sweet and gentle and let you cum as many times as you like. So he’s not too mean, is he?
Q = Quickie: Because of the nature of what Zayne is into, I don’t think he would be a big fan of quickies. They’re too… well… quick. He really likes to take his time with you, whether you’re being punished or he’s doing something sweet and romantic; quickies do not allow for that. Also, where do you think he’ll find the time? I’m serious. He’s so busy, even quickies aren’t fast enough. I think perhaps, on a very rare occasion, when you’ve really tested your luck, you might get one out of him. Might.
R = Risk: No. Zayne doesn’t like to put you in harm's way, and he very much needs control over the situation for him to be comfortable with it. So, do not expect him to take any risks at all. Not his thing.
S = Stamina: He may not be the most impressive in comparison to Rafayal (god) or Sylus (dragon) or Caleb (freak), but he’s pretty long-lasting. He has to be for what he enjoys, not to mention he’s so incredibly disciplined that he can hold out for insane amounts of time if he needs to. Generally, though, he does his best to match his stamina to yours. If you can only go for a short time, he’ll only go for a short time. If you can last longer, he’ll last longer too.
T = Toys: Toys are strictly reserved as a punishment and for lesson learning. Say you got a little too bold, say you pushed one too many buttons, and the usual pounding isn’t enough of a message. That’s where Zayne punishes you through means of inaction. It’s up to you to get off by yourself with whatever toy he selected for you, knowing damn well it’s so much more difficult for you to get off without his help. He’s conditioned you well, after all.
U = Unfair: He can be the meanest man you’ve ever met if you push him to that point. Case in point, look above. If he sees it necessary, he’ll ignore your needs entirely to get a point across. Sometimes, the hardest lessons must be taught by stonewalling you. That way you’ll think twice before misbehaving again.
V = Volume: Very, very quiet. He doesn’t tend to make much noise because he doesn’t like to make much noise. He finds it rather… embarrassing to hear himself. Plus, he’d rather hear you anyway. Far nicer to the ears, he thinks.
W = Wild card: Secretly likes when you send him risque photos/videos/audios while he’s at work. Of course, he’ll scold you for doing it every time, but he never means it. How could he complain, really? He gets to see you so pretty for him while he’s all busy. A little reminder of what waits for him at home. And, truthfully, part of the enjoyment of taming you is letting you have a little fun every once in a while.
X = X-ray: Like everything with Zayne, he’s the perfect balance. He’s around 5.3 inches long, slim enough but not so slim that he’s like a pencil. There are a few veins running along his shaft, about halfway up along the side, and one near the sensitive underside of his head. Pale to the tip and flushed a bright red when fully erect. (In the words of the ever-wise Zayne lover Marcus, “It's the perfect dick.” or whatever.)
Y = Yearning: Zayne is such a yearner; he would sit on the sidelines for the rest of his life and watch you be happy without him if it meant you were happy at all. Luckily, that’s not the case here, but my point stands. He yearns for you endlessly, sexually and not, but he’s also able to restrain himself. He loves you first and foremost, after all.
Z = Zzz: Will not sleep until he’s sure that you are all settled and happy, and even still, he’ll stay up just a bit longer to talk to you. Pillow talk after the fact is a big factor of intimacy to him, so it's imperative that he stays awake long enough to see you drift off to dreamland himself.
Rafayel (Word Count: 2.8k)
A = Aftercare: Our little dramatic mermaid likes to pretend he can’t do anything after he’s finished with you (or you’re finished with him). Dragging out every step of cleaning up and taking care of each other with irritating little complaints, but he doesn’t mean any of it. Really, though, he does prefer to just… lie there for a while and take in what he has. It’s the first time in a while that he’s been able to do such a thing, so he wants to savor it while he can. I will say, though, he’s actually very attentive about it all, even if he does complain. He’s fond of your pampering, but he’s sure you get what you need, even if you don’t realize he’s giving it to you.
B = Body part: Rafayel’s favorite body part is not his hands; believe it or not, it’s actually his collarbones. By extension, it’s also his chest, but particularly his collar. There’s a reason he shows it off so much: he knows that they’re attractive, but that’s not the real reason. The real reason he’s so fond of them is that that’s where your bond is. Even if it isn’t usually visible, in his mind, he likes that he’s showing off where you claim one another.
Furthermore, it’s the same for you. Your collar is where your bond is, so that’s what he likes to see. Not to mention, he just finds any skin you show attractive. He’ll trace his fingers along the bone there lightly, savoring the feeling of it being there at all. Trace his lips across them patiently, taking his time to savor the skin. He tries not to mark it there, if you can believe that. He feels it’s pointless to do so and a bit of an insult to your bond. You’ve already got the most impressive mark there. Why should he cover it with a bruise?
C = Cum: Rafayel is strange in this department. He cums quite a bit, oftentimes it leaks out of you with only one round, but it’s not quite… right. It’s definitely not human, more liquid-like, and not as sticky as a regular man would be. It’s a fairly clean white, though, and it doesn’t smell too bad. Most interestingly, it tastes rather good, better than anyone else you might’ve been with (good, he thinks, though he pouts about you being with anyone else in the first place). It’s essentially like shirako, which is a creamy kind of fish sperm from Japan (though it’s served elsewhere), with a buttery kind of taste and a hint of something sweet. Pretty yummy (if u can ever try shirako, I suggest it).
D = Dirty secret: It’s hard to think of a dirty secret because Rafayel holds little shame about his sexual desires, especially when it comes to you. He’s fairly indulgent in this lifetime because he hasn’t been able to really savor you before. However, I think if he had to pick one, his dirty little secret is his rather unsubtle need to have you reliant on him. He’d like to take you beneath the waves someday because you’d be pretty helpless with your little human legs. Clinging to him so you don’t get swept away, so easy to take advantage of. Oh, yes, he’d like that a lot.
E = Experience: He’s probably experienced. I get the impression that he would be, but not because he wanted to be. If it were up to him, the only thing his dick would touch would be you, but he’s had to do some things and make some choices in his efforts to build his little connections. So, yeah, he’s experienced, and he’s not particularly jazzed about it either. But… if it makes things better for you… Then so be it. It’s not like he’ll be sleeping with any other person now that he’s got you, so what’s in the past is past. (Hypocritically, if he finds out you’ve been with anyone else, he pouts and grumbles about loyalty. He won’t accept the same excuse of “being better for him” because it’s different. For some reason.)
F = Favorite position: He’s a fan of anything that has you in his lap, specifically where he can see your eyes. Anything that puts you in an elevated position above him, honestly. He doesn’t have a favorite position specifically, but if you pressed him, he’d probably say cowgirl to get you off his case. He just likes being able to look up at you; it’s cathartic. In all your past lives, you were the one looking up at him, so now he gets to see what the view is like, and he enjoys it a little too much for someone with the amount of power he holds. Don’t mistake that for submission, though; just because he’s below you doesn’t mean he’s powerless.
G = Goofy: Rafayel is the MOST willing to be silly with you (other than Sylus). I think a lot of the time, he wants to enjoy sex with you. He wants you to smile, laugh, and have a good time with him. Nothing but positive memories about your sexual encounters. However, there are times when he’s very serious, and joking around isn’t going to do anything but get you in trouble. That’s usually reserved for when he’s feeling jealous of something, for whatever reason, or when you’ve been a little too bratty. Sometimes he has to remind you that your actions have consequences.
H = Hair: I think Rafayel is smooth, but I’m not sure if it’s because he shaves or because he doesn’t grow much downstairs. He wouldn’t tell you anyway. Rafayel also doesn’t mind if you’re hairy or smooth; he’ll deal with what he has and enjoy it all the same. However, oddly enough, he likes to shave you? Lol? It’s a pretty intimate ordeal with how careful he has to be, and it’s a big show of trust between the two of you.
I = Intimacy: There is nothing more important to Rafayel than intimacy, both in the bedroom and out of it. He is savoring every moment he has with you because he’s been without you more than he’s had you. So, sex is something far deeper than the physical connection between you. It’s a display of his love for you, a deep connection that melds body and mind, letting yourselves go and indulging in the pleasure that only your bond can bring you. And to him, because of his heightened senses, he might as well be within your skin. Every smell, every sound, every touch is dizzying to him, and he yearns for you to get lost in him the same way he does you.
J = Jack off: Does it more than you’d think, doesn’t mean he likes it. Sometimes he has to deal with himself to get things done, but he really does prefer to have you. He’ll do just about anything he has to to avoid it, including leaving mid-exhibit so that he can take care of himself with you rather than his hand. He won’t even do it for you because that is not his job when you’re present. Just… let him have that.
K = Kink: Is impregnation too obvious? Maybe it is, but he’s a big fan of the idea of getting you pregnant. Whether or not he’d like you being pregnant (he would) doesn’t matter so much as being able to stuff you full. And as we’ve explained, he really can stuff you. He’s careful about it, of course, because maybe getting you pregnant is more work than either of you would like at this point in your life… but the idea is nice.
Period sex. Not sure if this really constitutes a kink, but holy fuck, he gets so turned on eating you out on your period. Maybe because he likes the mess, maybe because he likes the taste (freak), but he can’t help it. Besides, it helps you feel better! What boyfriend would he be if he didn’t relieve you in your time of need?
There is something so incredibly delightful about fucking you to the point of tears. You are so pretty when you cry from pleasure, those tear tracks are the most beautiful thing in the world in his eyes. He loves to lick at them too, the salty taste of painful pleasure is too much for him to resist.
Finally, Rafayel likes it when you’re fucked dumb. He already loves when you play a little stupid (or take him at his word when you definitely should not), and so fucking you until you can’t think is a given. He loves how you babble and ramble on about nothing, only able to think of how good his dick feels when he’s taking you. So cute and reliant on only him <3
L = Location: Prettyyyyy sure he can go at it just about anywhere. He doesn’t have the same level of shame that a normal human person would… because he’s not human. If he wants to have sex (and you are okay with it, because he’s a good little fishie), he’ll be having sex wherever he damn well pleases. Though his favorite location is in his art studio, having you sprawled out amongst all his hard work is a favorite sight of his that he cannot get enough of.
M = Motivation: Most things get him going, honestly. But the big one is when you’re being a little ditzy. He loves how much you just lean into whatever he says, even when it’s the most blatant lie in the world. The more control you give him over a situation, the more he likes it. The more stupid you act, the better it gets for him. He finds it cute when you lean into it, especially when you know how silly you look. So willing to make a fool of yourself just for him, you must really love him, huh?
N = No: He won’t hurt you, like ever. At all. It’s just such a disgusting feeling to him, hitting you, choking you, harming you. He’d rather die than see a bruise (that isn’t a lovebite) welling up on your skin. Everything he does with you is done with extreme care and a lot of holding back of his own strength. If you’re using restraints, they're the softest silk and tied only as tight as it needs to be, not tight enough to leave burns. If he’s holding you down, he’s careful not to leave any imprints on you. The very idea of causing you harm is enough to make him suicidal; please don’t ask him to.
O = Oral: Oh, as a fish, he’s not afraid to get a little wet. I kid, I kid. Rafayel is a big eater, though that shouldn’t come as a surprise from him. There is something delicious about you; your taste is sweeter than the finest wine on the market, and you’d swear he’s formed an addiction to it with how often he’s on his knees for you. There’s also the added bonus of the view from between your legs, and the sounds you make, and the complete and total control he has over your pleasure like this. Not to mention the way your thighs squeeze his head, if it popped, he would die a happy man. Right where he belongs for the rest of his days.
P = Pace: Generally, Rafayel prefers to take it slow and easy, but he tends to get overeager and lose himself to the feel of you. Can you blame him? You’re so nice and warm, and you squeeze him all tight and sweet. He can’t help but get excited. Worry not, though, he’s always sure to take his time. He’s not going to waste a second without savoring the feel of you around him.
Q = Quickie: He is really good at them, like really good at them, but he’s not a big fan overall. With his tendency for risky locations, he has to be good at being quick and sneaky – and trust me, you never ever leave unsatisfied – but he doesn’t wanna! He wants to take his time with you always, but oopsies, he doesn’t get to do that when he’s being a horny idiot in public. Too bad, so sad, Raf.
R = Risk: In the sense of location? Yes! As established, he’s willing to go at it just about anywhere, regardless of risk factor. He’s conscious enough about other people to keep you from prying eyes, but that's about as far as risk goes for him. He’s always in control of whatever scenario he’s put you in because he hates having any sense that something could happen to you.
S = Stamina: His stamina is incredibly high, like incredibly high. In part because he’s strong, and another because he’s a god. He doesn’t have the same physical limitations as you might, so he can kind of just go as long as he wants, and he always outlasts you. Even if you think you can beat him, you definitely cannot. It’s a futile battle. Just let our fishie take care of you.
T = Toys: I’m going to say a big fat no. Cutie… why would you need those things? You have him :(... is he not good enough? Dramatic ass. Seriously though, he doesn’t like the idea of you using toys or him using toys. Let's just throw them out, okay!
U = Unfair: As much as he loves having fun and as much as he wants you to enjoy yourself with him, he also likes being a little mean. Especially when you’ve left him alone all day, or you’ve made him jealous, or you’ve teased him too much. Really, any reason is enough to make him leave you hanging on the edge for hours. You’re soooo cute when you cry, when you’re squirming and begging him to let you cum. Poor thing. Should’ve been nicer; maybe then you wouldn’t be here in the first place.
V = Volume: He is loud as fuck when he wants to be. He doesn’t really have much shame about the sounds he’s making, so he’s going to be making them as much as he wants. Of course, he prefers that you make more noise for him, but doesn’t see the point in holding himself back when he’s enjoying himself so much.
W = Wild card: Secretly wants to be pegged. (“Secretly”). He likes his control more than most, but it would be nice to just lie back and let you have your fun too. He jokes about it a lot, to the point that you definitely know that he’s not joking, but he won’t ever outwardly ask for it.
X = X-ray: Rafayel has a strange situation going on below the belt, given the fact that he isn’t human. See, in his human form, you’d probably never guess it. He’s, by all means, regular in appearance – if not a little bigger than your average guy. Somewhere around six inches long, proportional in thickness, pretty heavy balls. It’s pale like him, with a soft pinkish tip that looks carefully painted on, rather than natural. It’s kind of like an art project in and of itself… but you’re not here for that, are you?
Rafayel has a second penis, but it’s only presented to you in his mer form. Usually, he keeps it tucked away because it’s a little jarring to see. It’s the same purple-blue as his fins are. Shorter in length than his human penis, but thick at the base and tapering off like a tentacle. It moves like one, too, and he can manipulate it like another limb. This is, for lack of a more sexy term, the baby-maker. It’s also more sensitive than his human one, which is part of why he neglects to let you see it often. Doesn’t like how easy it is to make him weak with it.
Y = Yearning: If Caleb did not exist, Rafayel would be the biggest yearner in the world. As they say, a man who yearns, earns. And Rafayel is a big earner. He wants you at all times of the day, in all ways humanly (and not humanly) possible. If you could, he’d probably spend the rest of his life inside you, but he’ll stick to what he can get for now.
Z = Zzz: Never falls asleep first. He likes to watch you, no matter how long you’ve been gone, no matter how tired he is; he just wants to watch you for a while. Call him a sap; something is reassuring in seeing that you are there and you are okay, and it affirms to him that you are real. This is real. He doesn’t have to worry about losing you again. Not if he can help it.
Sylus (Word Count: 2.2k)
A = Aftercare: King of aftercare, without a doubt. He’s always got what you need without you even thinking about it. He doesn’t want you to lift a finger for even a moment, and so he makes sure that you don’t. You won’t have to worry about cleaning yourself up, won’t need to feel the aches in your joints in the morning, won’t have to ask for food or water, Sylus has it already. You’ll need for nothing. It’s his job to provide, after all.
B = Body part: For Sylus, it’s hard to pick between his hands and his chest. Truly! His hands have helped him build this little empire for the two of you; they’re also useful for fighting off any idiots getting too pesky, and you seem fond of them. But… his chest is also special. It holds his heart inside, which belongs entirely to you, and he cherishes each moment it beats because it’s a moment when he is alive at the same time as you. It’s also where you rest your head at night, and that is more special to him than words can describe.
I think, similarly to himself, your chest – your heart specifically – is something he cherishes. It’s reassuring to feel it beat against your ribcage, reminds him that you are alive. He is determined to keep it that way, this time. No dying in his name in this life.
C = Cum: Sylus makes sure that everything is up to snuff for you, that means his cum too. While it’s a bit different because… he’s not a human being, it’s healthy. He makes sure that it’s nothing to gag at, in fact, his diet is structured in a way that it’s kind of sweet? Not that he enjoys cumming in your mouth (he feels it’s beneath you, really), but just in case. Speaking of, he’s very much a “I cum inside or in a condom,” and that’s it. Doesn’t mind if it spills out a little, but he will be scooping it up and stuffing it back in.
D = Dirty secret: I don’t think Sylus is very ashamed of most of the stuff he’s into or does, so it’s hard to imagine him having any secret that he keeps from you. The only one I could imagine is if, in some world, he got off to you before you’d met each other again through security footage or something of the like. Though I doubt he would do something like that. He’s too honest and forward for this one, guys, sorry.
E = Experience: His experience carries over with his memories, of course. He’s very experienced with you specifically, which is how he manages to know everything you like without you saying it. Though I will say, you are probably his only experience. He doesn’t care to seek another partner while he awaits your return to his arms, nor does he want to. You are the only one for him after all.
F = Favorite position: Backshot bucky baby. As we saw in lingering lust, he’s big into giving it from behind. The way he can grab your waist, your rear, and just lose himself without fear of consequence gets him going wild. Alternatively, anything where you’re in control makes him go a little crazy. He likes looking up at you and admiring your pretty visage as you ride him into tomorrow.
G = Goofy: Believe it or not, he’s actually really fun! Sex can be intimate, and he does like intimacy, but he’s also the biggest fan of your smile and your laugh. So, if he can draw that out of you while also pleasing you, it’s a high unlike anything else for him. Plus, it shows that you really do trust him despite rocky beginnings. Being able to be a little silly in a vulnerable time is everything to him.
H = Hair: Sylus is a bit… scaly? It’s a little jarring considering his otherwise human appearance, but he’s got a patch of black scales that fade into his… ahem… unique members. They’re smooth, though, and they feel more like skin than any hard protective plating. They’re sensitive too, so do with that what you will.
He doesn’t prefer you anyway, honestly. If you want to be bald and smooth, he’ll get you the best appointments for a Brazilian he can find. If you want to be wild and unrestrained, knock yourself out, he won’t complain. You’re somewhere in between - perfect! Whatever you want, it’s yours.
I = Intimacy: Big on intimacy, but I don’t think it’s surprising. He loves having you close, loves looking at you, loves telling you how much he adores you. Honestly, it’s a lot to handle. His sheer devotion to you is intense, but worry not, he knows what you can handle. All you need to know is that you are loved like no other in his heart, and sexual intimacy is his best way of showing that, because gods know his words are rarely good enough to convey his heart to you.
J = Jack off: I think he tries to avoid doing it if he has to, mostly because it's a hassle. There's… a bit more there for him to worry about than most men. There’s also the fact that nothing really works for him in the same way that you do. He tried porn once. Didn’t like it.
K = Kink: He likes being tamed by you. He’s a bit of a wild animal, rough around the edges and so argumentative, he needs to be told off a little. By you, of course. (Forbid someone else from try to tell him to behave.) Finds your domination so incredibly cute that he can’t help but give in. Sure, it’s a stupid reason to submit, but the proud face you get when he finally decides to listen… oh, it’s beautiful.
Predator/Prey dynamics going both ways… mostly him as the predator in these scenarios. He’s the big scary dragon after all, but if you want to go hunting as the predator, he’s not opposed. He just thinks it's fun to play into those less than innocent primal instincts of his.
Gun play is another big one of his, with a lot of safety precautions put in place (for your sake, not his). There is something just so… mmm… stimulating about having your gun pressed to his forehead as you use him as you like. It requires so much trust in you, and you have so much trust that he will be okay. He can’t help it, he’s into the risk factor of it all.
Last but not least, he’s very big on restraining each other. Usually with his evol, because gods know nothing else is strong enough to hold him down. Being at your mercy, or you at his, alights a switchboard in his brain, forgive him. He can’t help that you in positions of power are so… so hot.
L = Location: I think that entire mansion of his has seen your bare ass, to be quite frank. He enjoys acquainting you with everywhere and anywhere he can. He also doesn’t care too much about doing anything in public because you’ll never get caught with him around. You can be pretty reckless and know for a fact Sylus would never let anyone else catch you. Unless you wanted to be caught… mmm… no. He’s not too big on sharing you.
M = Motivation: Well… you are the motivation! Okay, seriously, your enthusiasm and honesty with your needs are all it really takes for him to be enthusiastic and honest with you, too. You don’t have to jump through hoops to get him aroused; all you need to do is say yes, and he’s ready to go for you too.
N = No: Another guy who just doesn’t like hurting you, but particularly he doesn’t like degrading you at all. His whole thing is encouraging you to take and take and take, making you feel small for doing that defeats the purpose of all that work he put in. It’s simply the opposite of what he wants to see from you, and as such, he doesn’t do it unless expressly asked… and even then he’s on the fence.
O = Oral: Not only is this guy good at giving, he’s obsessed with it, too. Half of the fun of sex is foreplay, and getting you ready with his mouth is just about his favorite thing in the world. It helps that his tongue is impossibly long, and he’s very good at moving it around. You didn’t know that something that squirmy could ever get that deep inside you, but fuck does it feel amazing. Don’t be too loud now, it’ll go to his head, and gods know his ego is big enough.
P = Pace: Sylus is a very go-with-the-flow kind of guy; he does whatever the moment calls for, or whatever you request of him. He can be rough and fast, he can be slow and soft, he can do it all. It doesn’t matter too much to him how long it takes, so long as it results in you being a happy, satisfied mess beneath him.
Q = Quickie: I think he would like them! Not as much as regular sex, of course, but they’re fun. And they’re really useful when you get needy out in public when you know you shouldn’t be. He would never shame you for your needs, though, and he certainly wouldn’t withhold them from you. While they’re not as intimate as he likes, he’s happy to indulge you in some mindless fun like you’re both stupid teenagers every once in a while. Keeps him feeling young.
R = Risk: Big into risk so long as its well thought out and done in a manner that keeps you specifically from harm. You can do anything to him, and he’ll probably smile and take it like a good pet, but he’s hesitant to put you in the line of fire. Still, he is good with risk-taking so long as both of you have had a conversation about expectations and the like. He’s not stupid enough to go in blind.
S = Stamina: I don’t think this man knows how to slow down, really. He can go for insane amounts of time, and you’ll probably never know the upper limits of what he can take. What matters is that whatever you want, you get from him. He’s very adaptable.
T = Toys: He’s a true neutral on this subject. He doesn’t really want to hear about or see your exploits with your toys. (Forgive him for being a little possessive.) He doesn’t care too much either way, though it would be unfair to withhold this pleasure from you, even though he’s right there. He’ll just have to prove that he can do better than some stupid vibrator can, that way, you always come to him first.
U = Unfair: Sylus is a bit of a tease, but that’s the lead-up to the fun of the moment usually. To be fully honest, when the heat of the moment hits, Sylus simply can’t find it in himself to tease you. Your reactions are too honest, and it tears him apart to be mean to you. Pleasure comes first, he’s not so mean as to deny you that after all your hard work to get both of you here.
V = Volume: He’s pretty loud, all things considered. He tends to pant and grunt a lot, though he’s not the loudest in sound; he does make a lot of it. He thinks it’s nice to let you know just how much you satisfy him, since you do the same for him. Not embarrassed by himself at all.
W = Wild card: One of his biggest desires is to have you take both of him at the same time, but he has to manage those expectations quite a bit. One is big enough as is, two? That would take a lot of prep work, and it’s quite the selfish desire he has. If you voice the same excitement over it, though, he might be more compelled to give in to his own yearning.
X = X-ray: My condolences to your pussy. There’s really no way around it, he’s kind of impossibly big, and yes… There are two of them. They’re both slightly different sizes, but he’s effective at using either. The larger of the two is about six and a half to seven inches, fat all around, too, somewhere about six inches or so in circumference. The smaller one is around five-ish inches, about four inches in circumference, far more reasonable to take (which is why he opts to use this one more). They’re also, uh, red and black? And ribbed? It’s quite the thing to take. Worry not, Sylus is good about helping you adjust.
Y = Yearning: You are the only thing on his mind at any given time, his precious little kitten, his whole world. He would do just about anything to have you at his side, but he’s patient enough to wait for you. He can want and want and want, but if you don’t want him, well… he can wait as long as you need. He’s not unwilling.
Z = Zzz: Another guy who ain’t snoozing until you’re good to go. He actually likes to fall asleep at the same time as you. Oftentimes after you have sex with him, he’ll rest his head on your chest and fall into a slumber to the sound of your heartbeat. Just in case. Just to make sure.
Caleb (Word Count: 2.7k)
A = Aftercare: Your wellbeing always remains Caleb’s top priority, therefore, his aftercare is thorough. He does consent checks frequently throughout each session, but he always makes sure to do one last look-over to make sure everything went smoothly and to ensure your mental state is still there. He gets a little… mean. So he needs to assure you that you are loved despite his indulgences. Very much a cuddler, very physical. You won’t have to worry about him skimping out on any of your needs; you can rest easy while your Gege is here.
B = Body part: With Caleb, that is the question. I don’t think he really likes anything about himself. Objectively, he’s aware he’s attractive and strong, he knows that he can do good things with his body, but… he doesn’t feel very connected to it. It’s not Caleb’s body anymore, it’s just a weapon. Cold and unfeeling, except for when he’s around you. So, honestly, he just says his favorite body part is whatever your favorite is. If you like it, it can’t be as bad as the rest of him is, right?
Again, with you, that’s the question. What about you is his favorite? Hard to pick, really, too many good options. If you’re asking sexually, he’d probably go with something like your tummy or your thighs. Fun to grab at in the heat of the moment. More generally, he’d say something like your lips. He spent a looooot of time staring at them, wanting to kiss them, throughout his life. Now he can do it whenever he pleases.
C = Cum: Caleb doesn’t take care of himself unless you’re there to make him, so… I don’t think it’s the healthiest or the tastiest. Which is why he tends to avoid letting you eat it, just… kinda gross and bitter. Besides, he prefers to cum on you anyway, creep that he is. It’s a little watery, and he likes to play with it (likes it more when you play with it). Prefers to see it on your stomach or your ass, but if you want he’s more than happy to cum inside :D …No? Okay.
D = Dirty secret: When you were younger, he would do a lot of really creepy and fucked up shit that he has an insane amount of guilt over. These include (but are not limited to): Jacking off to (innocent) photos of you together; Stealing your panties and cumming into them; Standing over your bed to watch you sleep at night; Watching you change through cracks in your door; Getting off to your shampoo in the shower. But that’s not really the secret, because you’ve probably found out about most of these. No, the secret is that he wants to do all of these things still (he does, sometimes), and he wants you to catch him. And he wants you to tell him how gross it is and then indulge him in his creepy little fantasies.
E = Experience: No experience whatsoever; he was not gonna fuck anything that wasn’t you, lmfao. He’s a little nervous on your first time because of this (and a few other reasons), but he’s really receptive to you and your reactions. All you gotta do is tell him, and he’ll get it done. He ends up being a little too rough sometimes, a little too eager others, but he’ll get the hang of it quickly.
F = Favorite position: I preface with the fact that Caleb is not a picky man; he’ll do just about anything so long as you seem happy with it. However, his favorites tend to require a bit of flexibility on your part. He really enjoys pushing your body into positions where you’re sort of helpless to him. Oftentimes you’ll find your legs over his shoulder and your body bent in half while he “takes care of business.” His usual go-to is just doggy, but when you’re prepared properly, he’ll put you in a full nelson or a prone bone. Again, though, he’s happy to take what he gets all the same.
G = Goofy: He can be goofy if you want! He’s still your Caleb, albeit altered and more traumatized and kind of hardly hanging on to himself… but he’s Caleb! Sometimes you just wanna mess around a little; sex doesn’t always have to be some super serious, dom/sub type dynamic thing. He loves hearing you laugh and joke around with him just as much as he likes to hear you moan. It’s even better when they’re woven together like this - the best of both worlds.
H = Hair: Before your first time together, he didn’t care enough to shave himself downstairs. He didn’t care to take care of himself. Immediately after your first time, he shaves himself clean. Finds the hair down there inconvenient because it’s just in the way of feeling you against him. He’s a little apologetic if you don’t like him bald, buuut he’s not changing it. He wants to feel you, sorry pips :P
If you shave, he’ll act like it's a war crime. Your body, your choice… but please reconsider. Your bush is a sacred thing to him; how could you ever even consider taking it away from him after he waited so long to see it? “It’s more convenient” or “It’s only fair” won’t convince him. In the end, it’s your choice, and he’ll be a big boy and accept it. Even if he really, really wants the bush.
I = Intimacy: He struggles a lot with intimacy in sex, mostly because he struggles with intimacy in general. He really tries his best to tap into the few emotions he can feel for whatever short amount of time he’s allowed to feel them, but he finds sex more enjoyable when he doesn’t have to fight himself to indulge. It’ll come naturally over time as he adjusts to everything new with you, and it’s not like he’s not making successful attempts, but intimacy is something he struggles with in general. However, he does his best to make sure you feel the intimacy, even if he can’t.
J = Jack off: I think it goes unsaid, but he’s getting himself off without you more than with you. It’s a habit, at this point, because he finds it difficult to come to you about his sexual needs, so he usually handles them himself. Most often in the same ways he did when he was younger, but he’s getting a little better about seeking you out. At least he’ll send you pictures sometimes when he misses you that much.
K = Kink: Let's get the obvious out of the way, please. He’s so into pseudo-incest, and it’s something he’s grappling with indulging in. He holds a lot of shame about liking the big brother role he takes on with you, mostly because he also wants nothing more than to be your boyfriend. In bed, these blurred lines come together into one, and he loves when you call him Gege, and you play into that dynamic. Playing dumb and helpless, begging your big brother to take advantage of you is sick and twisted, and that's what he likes about it.
That leads into his second kink, degradation. He prefers it mostly on himself, and it’s nothing too heavy. He’s not interested in you really calling him too many names, but he wants you to point out the flaws in his logic and still give him what he wants. Let him know that what he wants is wrong and that you want it too. Furthermore, he likes to mock you a little bit when you get into the subspace. “So cute and helpless ‘fer me, aren’t ya?” and stuff like “Can’t get off without Gege’s help, huh? Poor little Meimei~.”
Collaring/Marking/Claiming, whatever you want to call it, he’s big on this one. Of course you can’t walk out with a literal dog collar, and neither can he, but he’ll look into alternatives. He already has the necklace you gave him, but I think he’d be interested in getting you a necklace with a Morse code design of something like his name or a little message nodding back to him. Then, obviously, he loves giving and receiving love bites – even if he can’t see them beneath clothes, knowing that they’re there and only for his eyes is good enough for him.
Control. Now I know that all of the men before have some element of this to them, but Caleb takes it to the most extreme degree. He wants control of you both inside and outside of the bedroom, and he wants you to control him in the same way. Who you talk to, who he talks to, where you go, where he goes, what you eat, what he eats. It’s not reasonable for either of you to do this, so you find other ways to indulge in this desire of his that won’t completely destroy your social lives and ruin your mental health (more than it already is).
L = Location: Generally, he prefers that you keep things between yourselves, so he’s not going out of his way to have sex with you in public. Though I think he’s prone to fingering you under the table if you’ve earned yourself some kind of punishment (or you’re really adamant about needing to get off right now.) He could be convinced to bend you over his desk at work, but if it’s down to choice, he’s waiting until you’re home so he can take his time with you.
M = Motivation: I think most things you do can get him going, but he’s so good at pushing it down, ignoring it, or dealing with it himself that you don’t think it’s that bad. The best way to get him to do something is to purposely tease him in scenarios where he can’t immediately act on it, and then continue to push until he cracks and drags you home/to the bedroom himself.
N = No: Sharing. I know, I know! It’s obvious, and I also said it earlier, but I think it’s the one big no that he has. He’s pretty goddamn freaky; there's not much concerning you that’ll turn him off, but if you suggest adding a third? Well, that means you’re thinking about someone specifically, and that means he’s got someone to deal with. It also means that he’s not satisfying you, so he just has to do better himself. Don’t bother bringing it up to him, okay, he’ll spiral, and he’s already hardly clinging to his morals as is.
O = Oral: It’s a toss-up for him as to which he likes more on a given day. Some days, he wants nothing more than to see you on your knees, taking him as deep as you can. Other days, the only way he can relax is with your thighs trying to crush his head while he eats you like a wild animal. It’s all up to his mood and how good or bad a day he’s had, mixed a little with how much of a brat you’re being.
P = Pace: He tends to default to a harder, faster pace. It’s not like he likes being mean! It’s just how he is, and you never seem to complain about it anyway. He can slow it down and be sweet and gentle if that's what you want. It’s his natural state to just be a bit harsh in these things, and if you seem to like it, then that's how he’ll give it to you.
Q = Quickie: Surprisingly, he’s not really a fan. He doesn’t want anyone ever interrupting his time with you. Especially not such an intimate time like this. He’d rather wait around for a while so that he can really get into it rather than waste time on half-fulfilling interactions like a quickie. You might get him to give in occasionally when there's no promise of a later, but it's rare.
R = Risk: He’s definitely into some risky kinks and behaviors, but not a big fan of real risk. He’s a control freak, especially when it comes to your safety, so the idea that he’d put you at risk is a bit unlike him. Don’t expect him to indulge in anything that could expose you or potentially hurt you more than he’d be able to control.
S = Stamina: The issue with Caleb is not the fact that he can go for a long time; he most certainly can. It’s just… he cums quick. He’ll cum more than twice usually, and he has a short refractory period where he bounces back quickly. He’s good at filling up space while he recovers, but you’ve gotta get used to how easy he is lol. It’s a compliment, I promise.
T = Toys: Props, yes. Toys? Not so much. He doesn’t like the idea that something else can do his job for him. He also doesn’t like that you masturbate without him involved/knowing either, so I don’t think this is all that surprising from him. He’s a bit hypocritical, of course, but he prefers you come to him when you have needs. He could be convinced to use a remote-controlled vibrator as punishment or even use your toys against you when he’s upset enough, but generally prefers you not have them and not use them when you’re with him. If you do have them, he prefers not to know what kind and how many. (He gets jealous)
U = Unfair: I already established that he loves to verbally degrade you and tease you, and this goes for how he handles your pleasure, too. He does enjoy edging you and withholding orgasms from you occasionally. On the other end, he also likes to make you cum in rapid succession. He tends to give you more than he takes from you, so usually you’re overstimulated rather than denied pleasure. It’s not any less mean that way.
V = Volume: He’s a big grunter, and you can draw a lot of them out of him, but he tries to stifle them as much as possible. He just wants to hear you, and he can’t hear you if his stupid mouth is making noise. Worry not, he knows how to get you moaning. But if you want him to make noise – specifically if you want him to whimper – you can either pull at his hair or scratch his back. No pussy shit either, you better tug hard at the roots or dig your nails in so hard they leave marks, else you won’t get what you want.
W = Wild card: Caleb is a big somnophiliac. He wants to wake up to you using him like your personal sex toy, and he loves waking you up with his tongue on your sex. There’s something super thrilling about the riskiness of it all, waking up half there only to immediately be thrown into the throes of pleasure. He loves toeing the line of what is and is not morally acceptable with you, and this is a fun way to play into that.
X = X-ray: Long and thick, just like its beholder. Caleb is just a bit smaller than Sylus’ more impressive member, about 5.8 to 6 inches, and thick all the way around. Once you adjust the tip, you can take the whole thing no problem. He’s also not circumcised, but that doesn’t inhibit pleasure by any means. None of that really matters in the end, because length and girth or not, he knows how to use it to make you feel good.
Y = Yearning: Caleb wants you all the time, and he’s very good at acting like he doesn’t. He spent his whole life acting like he didn’t; he’s sort of stuck in that yearning still, even now that he has you to himself. Such a helpless man for you, he’d seriously sit and be happy if you told him he could never have it again. …No, he wouldn’t. Please don’t do that to him.
Z = Zzz: In the hypothetical scenario that Caleb sleeps in the first place, he would never fall asleep before you. Especially not after having sex with you. He’d rather watch you drift off peacefully in his arms than sleep in the first place, so you will be sleeping before him no matter how hard you try. Only when you are completely at rest can he relax enough to try to drift off on his own. He tends to sleep better on nights when you’re there; no need to worry about your wellbeing when he can see it himself, clear as day.
"You've gotten bigger," you say without thinking, cupping Zayne's cheek and proceeding to pinch and pull. How could you not, really? He was sitting there, working quietly, honestly he should've known better.
Zayne only glances at you once. If he was offended or flattered by your words, he didn't let it show.
"Is that a problem?"
Immediately you shook your head, fingers pinching just a bit more at the additional pudge to his cheeks. Even his stomach had grown a bit rounder too, you noticed with glee.
"Not at all." you mumble with a grin, continuing to poke at his flesh.
florist meadow's flower of choice : Forget-Me-Nots. a symbol of remembrance, true love, and faithful connections. a promise to keep that special someone forever in your thoughts.
fluff: ❀ / suggestive/spicy: ⚡︎ / angst: ⛆ / crack: §
FIC MASTERLIST
like- like like me?! ❀ ⚡︎
what gift ? ❀
I think I wanna marry you ! ❀
oh baby baby ! ❀ ⚡︎
accidental "I love you" ❀
celibacy week! ⚡︎ §
oh that's... that's hot ⚡︎ §
͙͘͡★ pt.2 (Xavier, Rafayel) ⚡︎ §
tongue tied ! ⚡︎
bro-zone ⚡︎ §
͙͘͡★ pt.2 (Rafayel, Xavier) ⚡︎ §
current boyfriend §
SOS ! ⛆ ❀
nail day ! ❀ ⚡︎
misc. texts w/ bf! valko ❀§
all right reserved to @myntrose on tumblr. do not copy, translate, repost, or claim my work as your own. the artwork on my blog does not belong to me, unless stated otherwise. likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcomed.
Zayne gives the most intense orgasms simply because he’s not afraid to get messy- he will literally dig into your hole till he finds the spot he knows houses the bundle of nerves he wants to stimulate for an orgasm that almost knocks you out. And then he’ll brutalise that spot;
The moment he has you spread open- thighs pushed wide, knees nearly to your chest- he sinks two fingers deep in one smooth thrust, searching with the calm focus of a man who has memorized every map of your body. The wet, obscene sound of him working into you is immediate and absolutely lewd. He curls, presses, drags the pads of his fingers along your walls until he finds it: that swollen, spongy spot that makes your spine snap tight and a broken moan rip from your throat.
“There,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, almost clinical. “That’s the one.”
Then he latches on to it.
No amount of begging or scratching will make him relent as he stimulates you incessantly- not the sloppy, cruel fingering popularised by cheap pornography, but in firm, methodical and purposeful movements that bring about the pleasure that drowns the pain of overstimulation, never once loosing their surgical precision even as desire mounts.
He anchors his other hand on your lower belly, pressing down to hold your squirming hips in place while he strokes that bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate drags. Each press-and-rub is firm enough that pleasure borders on pain, slow enough that you feel every ridge of his rough fingertips, the rough texture of his surgeon's callouses. The pressure builds like a storm gathering behind your eyes. Your walls flutter and clamp around him, but he doesn’t slow. He simply adjusts the angle and keeps going, relentless.
You buck. You claw at his wrist, nails digging crescents into his skin. “Zayne-fuck!!... too much, I can’t-”
“You can.” His voice is calm, almost gentle, even as his fingers piston against that spot with an almost sadistic flair. “Breathe through it. Let it take you.”
The overstimulation burns, white-hot and overwhelming, but beneath it the pleasure is molten. It drowns everything. Your thighs shake violently. Slick gushes around his knuckles, dripping down to soak the sheets, coating his palm, running down his forearm in shiny trails.
He doesn’t care.
He never flinches from the mess. If anything, the wetter and filthier you get, the darker his eyes become, mouth open as he wonders just how can you drip so much just from his fingers.
A third finger joins the first two. The stretch is sudden and perfect. He curls all three against that spot in tight, rhythmic presses- almost like he’s milking it- and your vision whites out.
The orgasm crashes into you so hard your back arches clean off the bed, a silent scream caught in your throat. Your walls spasm violently around his fingers, but Zayne doesn’t stop. He keeps stroking, firm and steady, dragging every last pulse out of you until you’re sobbing, shaking, gushing helplessly on his hand.
Only when your voice cracks into a wrecked whimper does he finally ease off- just enough to let you breathe, never fully pulling out. His fingers stay buried deep, gently petting your fluttering walls while you twitch and leak on him.
He leans down, lips brushing your ear to plant a fluttering kiss that seems more mocking than soothing, voice rough with restrained lust.
“So good for me...see? I told you you'd like it." he says before straightening up. "But that was only the first one. I’m nowhere near done finding out how many times I can make you break tonight.”
He smiles, and you shudder, your legs falling open helplessly even though you have no energy left.
You and Caleb are accidentally hurled two years into the future, straight into his apartment. Trapped in a closet, you’re forced to watch your future selves fuck like they’ve been starving for each other.
The art that inspired this fic: https://x.com/i/status/2077008975359525093
The heat at Grandma's house during peak summer was its own particular brand of suffering. It wasn't the same as the sharp dry heat of the city, this was heavy and wet and it made the air taste like cut grass and warm concrete. By ten in the morning you'd already sweated through your first shirt. By noon you'd given up on doing anything productive.
Which was how you and Caleb ended up in the kitchen at two in the afternoon, arguing about stupid stuff, because there was nothing else to do.
"We're out of green onions," he announced with his head inside the fridge. "And ginger. Grandma said we have to buy soy sauce and it has to be the right brand."
"Which brand?"
He turned around with an expression that said he had absolutely no idea.
"Great," you said. "Really helpful."
"She showed me once. It has a red label. Or maybe yellow." He pulled out a tote bag from the cabinet and dropped it on the counter in your direction. "We'll figure it out when we're there."
"The market is a fifteen minute walk in this heat."
"Then we should leave now."
"Caleb—"
He was already heading for the door. "Come on."
You grabbed the bag and your sunglasses and followed him out into the heat, which hit you like a wall the second you stepped off the porch.
The neighborhood was quiet on summer afternoons, everyone wanted to be inside with their fans on. You walked beside Caleb through streets you'd both known since childhood, past the park, past the corner ice cream store with the faded awning, past Mrs. Yuen's house with the wind chimes that had been making the same sound for fifteen years.
He was telling you about an incident with a new recruit that had happened at a training exercise last month and you were laughing.
"Did he get hurt?" you managed.
"Bruised his ego more than anything." Caleb pushed your sunglasses up. "Poor guy spent the rest of the session pretending it hadn't happened."
The market was cool and smelled like the same brand of air freshener they'd been using since you were ten. You grabbed a basket and split off toward the vegetables while Caleb wandered in the direction of the snack aisle, which —you'd learned over years of shared grocery runs— meant you were going to spend the next several minutes complaining about his choices.
You found the green onions. Found the ginger. Turned the corner into the snack aisle and found Caleb standing in front of the chips with two bags in his hands, deliberating.
"We don't need chips," you said.
"Yes we do."
"We have food at home."
"Chips are not food, chips are a separate category." He held them both up. "Salt and vinegar or barbecue."
"Neither. We're here for dinner ingredients."
"And chips." He put the barbecue in the basket.
You took it out. He put it back in.
"Caleb."
"It's for the walk home. You'll want some on the walk home."
"You are so—" You stopped, pointed at his chest. "Fine. One bag. And you're carrying it."
He was already reaching for a second one.
"One bag."
"Salt and vinegar for you, barbecue for me. That's technically one bag each which is—"
"That's two bags."
"One per person."
You let him keep both bags because the alternative was standing in the snack aisle for another five minutes.
The soy sauce took longer. You found the section, found approximately ten different brands, and stood there for a moment in silence.
"Red label or yellow?" you said.
"I said I wasn't sure."
"You said you'd seen it."
"I'd seen it, I didn't memorize it."
"Caleb, if we get the wrong one—"
He picked one up, turned it over, put it back. Picked up another. "This one looks right."
He put it in the basket and you picked up a different one, compared the labels side by side, and put his back and kept yours.
He switched them back the moment you turned away.
------
You were outside, bag on Caleb's shoulder, chips already open when your hunter's watch went off.
The sound cut straight through everything. Your hand was in the chip bag one second and at your holster the next, the muscle memory of it faster than conscious thought. The screen had gone red.
Wanderer detected. Class: High energy anomaly. Proximity: 100 meters.
Caleb stepped in close "Behind the market. Let's go."
You were already moving.
---
The alley ran behind a row of shops, narrow and shadowed, the air warping at the far end and that meant the Wanderer had already been there long enough to disturb local reality. You pulled your gun and kept your back to the wall, moving fast. Caleb came in on the other side, gravity already building at his hands, the air around his knuckles bending in a way that meant he was ready.
The Wanderer was enormous, the geometry of it not quite making sense no matter which angle you looked from. It moved fast for something that size, swinging a limb in your direction before you'd fully cleared the corner.
You fired twice. The shots connected and it shrieked, momentum redirected enough that the hit meant for you shattered a section of wall instead.
"Flank!" Caleb called.
You were already going wide. He pulled gravity in from the left, compressing the Wanderer's movement, slowing it just enough for you to get behind it and put three more shots into the joint where two of its limbs connected. It screamed and lurched sideways.
"Keep it off the street," you yelled over the noise.
"Working on it." He dragged it backward with a gravity pull that made the pavement crack under the force of it, steering it further into the alley.
It was not a clean fight. It kept redirecting, slamming into the walls, filling the alley with debris that you had to dodge while maintaining your sight lines.
Eventually the thing started to slow. Eventually it disappeared.
Then you saw it.
On the ground where the Wanderer had dissolved — a Protocore, small, throwing off an iridescent white that you'd never seen from a Wanderer before.
"That's not standard," Caleb said, coming to stand beside you. He crouched down to look at it without touching it. "I've never seen one this color."
"Me neither." You holstered your gun. "I should take it to HQ."
"Agreed." You crouched beside him, reaching for the core at the same time he did, and your hands closed around it simultaneously.
White light erupted.
It collapsed inward, pulling everything —sound, light, air, the alley— into a point of white noise and wind, and then nothing, a few seconds later there was a floor coming up very fast.
You hit the carpet with a thud that knocked the breath out of you.
Caleb landed beside you, one arm slamming down to catch his weight before he pushed himself up.
"Are you hurt," he said, breathing hard.
You did a fast inventory. "No. You?"
"No." He looked up. Looked around.
You were inside a huge apartment. Carpeted floor and warm light from the windows. A long couch. A coffee table with papers on it. A mug. A jacket draped over the back of a chair.
Someone's apartment.
You stood up slowly. Caleb was already at the bookshelf, and you followed, and then you saw the first photo and everything in your chest felt strange.
It was you. You and Caleb, standing somewhere sunny, laughing at something out of frame. You were wearing a jacket you didn't own. His hair was slightly different, grown out and pushed back.
There were more. The two of you at a restaurant, faces close across a small table. A shot of you asleep on a couch, and Caleb sitting at the other end with a book, but whoever had taken the photo had caught him looking at you and not at the page.
Your throat felt tight.
"This is my apartment," Caleb said quietly, from somewhere to your left.
You turned to look at him. He was looking at the leather jacket on the chair. His leather jacket, the one currently in his wardrobe back at the base. A pilot's manual on the shelf, the same one he'd been working through. A mug from the Farspace Fleet. A framed photo of your grandmother that matched the one at home.
"The photos—" you started.
"I know."
He crossed to the coffee table, picked up the newspaper and scanned the top page. He held it out.
The date at the top was two years from now. Exactly two years.
---
You spent the rest of the afternoon going through the apartment with careful attention, very aware you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. You were trying to understand what the last two years had produced.
Caleb's future self left notes everywhere. Fridge, desk, bathroom mirror. His handwriting but with a different quality to it, more settled. There were more photos than you'd first noticed — tucked into the edges of the mirror in the hallway, stuck to the inside of a cabinet. A birthday card in your handwriting on the desk, standing open. A second toothbrush in the bathroom.
You both looked at that for a moment.
"I'm not going to say anything about any of this," you said finally, standing in the kitchen with your arms crossed.
"Good call," Caleb said, from the doorway.
"I'm —this is a lot of information."
"It is."
"And I'm not drawing any conclusions."
He went quiet.
The sun went down. The apartment went from warm gold to dark while you sat on the floor of the living room eating crackers you'd found in the cabinet, your backs against the couch, the Protocore sitting on the coffee table throwing faint white light across the ceiling.
"We'll figure out how to get back," Caleb said.
"I know."
"Same energy that brought us here should be able to—"
"Caleb, I know. I'm not panicking."
He looked at you sideways. "You're quieter than your normal quiet."
"I'm just thinking."
He nodded slowly. Ate a cracker. Didn't push it, he knew when to let something sit. Almost two decades of knowing each other and he'd learned exactly where the lines were.
You were about to say something else when you heard it.
Voices outside.
Both of you were on your feet before the door handle moved. Caleb stepped toward the entryway on pure instinct and you grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled.
"Don't," you said, low and fast.
"I just want to see—"
"You cannot make contact with yourself. Do you understand what that does to the timeline? Do you understand what happens if you alter something?"
"I wasn't going to —"
"Caleb." You got in front of him, hands on his chest, looking up at him with full seriousness. "We hide. Right now. We have to wait."
He looked at the door. The handle was starting to move.
"Fine," he said before he grabbed the protocore and then your wrist to pull you toward the hallway closet in two long strides, opening it fast and pulling you in after him, easing the door shut.
The closet was full. Coats, bags, a stack of boxes on the floor that immediately became a problem because you had nowhere to step back, which meant you were now pressed against Caleb from your shoulders to your knees.
You could feel every breath he took.
"This is very small," you whispered.
"I know," he said, directly behind your ear.
His arms were on either side of you because there was nowhere else for them. His chin was above your head. You could feel him making adjustments to keep whatever minimal distance physics was willing to offer, and it was working as well as you'd expect. Which was not well.
You were two childhood friends in a closet in an apartment that was apparently his, two years in the future, surrounded by photographic evidence of something neither of you had said out loud yet, and he was doing his very best not to press against you and his very best was losing badly to the laws of spatial reasoning.
The front door opened.
Through the slats of the closet door, the living room light clicked on.
"I told you." Your own voice, but looser, threaded through with laughter that had a very specific quality to it. "I told you we shouldn't have had that last drink."
"Yeah," came the reply. Caleb's voice, except it was rougher and stripped of the easy warmth you knew and replaced with something that made the back of your neck prickle. "You were flirting with the bartender just to watch me lose it."
"Maybe I was." Future you sounded unrepentant about this.
Through the slats you watched two people stumble into the living room and your brain took several seconds to process what your eyes were seeing. She was in a dress, form fitting, gorgeous, currently half unzipped down the back. Future Caleb had shed his jacket somewhere between the door and the living room, his shirt untucked with half the buttons open, chest visible, hair slightly wrecked.
Behind you, Caleb had gone completely rigid. You felt it happen, every muscle in his body locking up at once.
Then future Caleb grabbed future you by the waist and walked her backward into the living room wall.
The impact was loud. What followed was louder, the sound of them kissing, which was not the word for what was happening, kissing implied something with more restraint than this. Future Caleb had his hands in her hair and on her waist and sliding down to bunch the fabric of her dress up her thighs, all at the same time.
You made a sound you hadn't planned on making.
Caleb's hand came over your mouth so fast you didn't even see it coming, his palm pressing firm and warm against your lips, his forearm across your collarbone. His chest was heaving against your back and something else was pressing against the small of your back that you were both absolutely not acknowledging.
You made a muffled sound against his hand anyway.
His arm tightened.
Future Caleb pulled back just far enough to speak "You want to play games tonight?" A pause, heavy with intent. "Let's find out how loud I can make you scream."
He pushed his hand up her skirt.
You'd never made that sound in your life. Or apparently you would. In two years. Against that wall.
"Caleb—wait, wait—the couch—"
That was it. That was enough. Your hand shot out in the dark and found the closet door handle and you grabbed it.
Caleb's hand came off your mouth and closed around your wrist, pulling it back against you, his mouth dropping to your ear.
"Don't you dare," he breathed.
"We have to stop watching this—" you hissed.
"If you open that door they'll see us—"
"Then they see us—"
"And alter the timeline," he said. "Your words. Two minutes ago."
He was right and it was the worst possible moment for him to be right.
"Just—" His voice came out strained "Just don't move."
"Caleb—"
"I'm a guy, and you are literally grinding into me," he snapped softly, though there was no real anger in it. His forehead dropped briefly to the back of your head. "Just..." sigh "give me a second."
Outside the closet Caleb lifted her clean off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the couch and dropped her onto it.
His hands yanked the straps of her dress down, baring her breasts. He pinched a nipple, and she arched with a sharp cry. "You are so fucking wet already. Been thinking about my cock all day? Want me to stretch that pretty pussy out right here?"
"Yes—fuck, Caleb, touch me," she gasped, hips grinding up.
Your breath hitched. Heat flooded between your legs, sudden and embarrassing. Caleb's cock twitched against your ass and you had to bite your lip to stay quiet.
Future Caleb reached down and shoved his pants off. You couldn't look away. He was big, thick, flushed, veins standing out. Ready.
Panic hit you. "Don't look," you whispered frantically. "That's... me. Turn around or do something—"
"Like hell," he said against your ear, teeth grazing the shell. "You're the one staring. You like seeing him like that? Seeing what I— what he wants to do to you?"
"Caleb, shut up," you whimpered, thighs pressing together.
He didn't fuck her right away. He grabbed her ankles, yanked her to the edge of the couch, and spread her wide. Dropped to his knees.
"Caleb—" she started, but it dissolved into a broken moan as he buried his face between her legs.
The sound of his tongue working her was loud and messy, completely shameless. Her head dropped back against the cushions, fingers twisted tight into the fabric, her whole body shaking every time he dragged his tongue over her clit in greedy strokes. He licked broad stripes up her slit before focusing on her clit again, sucking it into his mouth with a low groan.
"Fuck, you taste so good,”Caleb growled against her pussy, voice muffled but clear enough to carry.
"Just like that baby” she moaned, one hand fisting his hair, the other still twisting in the couch cushion.
He pinched her nipple hard with his free hand, rolling it between his fingers as he sucked harder. Her thighs trembled around his head.
Behind you, Caleb let out a broken groan that made your knees go soft. His arm snapped around your waist, holding you steady, fingers digging into your hip the exact same way his future self was gripping her out there.
“Fuck,” you whispered, head falling back against his shoulder before you could stop yourself. Your pussy was throbbing, aching so bad it almost hurt.
“Listen to that. Listen to how wet you get for me.” Caleb shifted his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your ass through your jeans, dragging the seam right over your soaked cunt.
On the couch, she was losing it. "I need you inside me. I can’t wait anymore.”
Future Caleb pulled back, mouth shiny, breathing hard. He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up and drove into her in one rough thrust. Her legs wrapped around him as he started fucking her deep and hard, the couch creaking like it might give out any second. His back and ass flexed with every thrust, hips snapping forward. “Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”
He leaned over her, one hand pinning her thigh higher as he fucked her. “Gonna fill you up. Want you leaking my cum the rest of the night. You love being my dirty little slut, don’t you? Say it.”
“Oh my god,” you choked, voice barely there. Watching yourself get railed like that—by him—was too much. The guy whose arms were currently locked around your waist, the same guy you’d known since you were kids, was pounding into a future version of you like he owned her.
She gasped between moans, nails now digging into his back. “Yes—your slut, Caleb—harder—”
“That’s my girl.” His hips snapped faster “Come on my cock like you did last night."
In the closet, Caleb’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, his cock twitched hard against your ass, hips making tiny, helpless thrusts.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away, every filthy word making the ache between your legs worse.
“Jesus,” Caleb whispered raggedly “We really talk like that?”
You twisted hard, trying to turn around in the cramped space so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore.
“Stop moving,” Caleb gasped, his control fraying fast as your ass rubbed right over the head of his cock.
“I can’t watch this—let me turn—”
Your foot caught on a heavy boot buried in the mess at the bottom of the closet. Balance gone.
“Whoa—” Caleb grabbed for you, but it was too late. Your combined weight slammed into the door.
The cheap magnetic latch popped open with a sad little click.
The squeaking of the couch cut off like someone had yanked the plug on the whole universe.
The silence that followed rang in your ears. You pushed up on your elbows, face so hot you were surprised you hadn’t spontaneously combusted. Caleb was beside you, shirt rucked up, the very obvious, very hard line of his erection pressing against your thigh.
You both slowly turned your heads toward the couch.
A few meters away, future Caleb was frozen mid thrust, hands locked on future you’s hips, his body still buried deep inside her. She had one leg hooked high around his waist, hair a wild mess, chest heaving. Both of them stared at you with identical expressions of what the actual fuck.
They were a sweaty, flushed disaster, very naked and very, very mid fuck.
“What the…” future Caleb started.
Future you blinked slowly. “Is that… us?”
You opened your mouth, brain offering the most useless sentence in history. “We were just looking for soy sauce—”
The white light from the Protocore exploded again. The apartment, the couch, your naked and extremely confused future selves—all of it ripped away in a roar of rushing air.
Thud.
You hit the dirty alley hard enough to knock the wind out of you again.
Caleb groaned beside you, flat on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in sharp pulls. You could still feel the ghost of his hardness against you, the way his fingers had dug into your hip in the closet. Your own body was still buzzing, thighs slick, pulse pounding between your legs like a second heartbeat.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Caleb let out a shaky laugh that sounded half hysterical. “Soy sauce. Really?”
You rolled onto your side, wincing at the scrapes on your elbows. “It was the first thing that came to mind, okay? We just watched ourselves— I mean, they— we were—” You gestured vaguely, face burning all over again. “You know.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
He sat up slowly and ran a hand through his hair. The front of his shorts was still a bit tented. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. You weren’t exactly in a position to judge, your nipples were tight against your shirt, and you were pretty sure your face was the color of a ripe tomato.
The protocore gave one last weak shimmer and dissolved into harmless blue dust that scattered across the pavement.
Caleb looked at you. “So… two years from now, huh?”
You swallowed. “Apparently we, uh… figured some things out.”
He huffed another laugh, but it was softer this time. Almost wondering. He reached over and brushed a bit of alley dirt off your cheek with his thumb. The touch lingered.
“We should probably go”
You nodded, but neither of you stood up right away. The air between you felt thicker than the summer humidity, charged with everything you’d just seen and felt in that stupid closet.
Caleb’s gaze dropped to your mouth for a second, then flicked back up. “When we get back to the house…”
“Yeah?” you whispered.
He smiled, small and crooked and a little nervous, the same smile he’d given you a thousand times growing up, except this one felt different.
“I’m not waiting two years,” he said.
Your heart did something complicated in your chest.
You grabbed his hand, pulled him up with you, and the two of you started walking out of the alley like nothing had happened.
But everything had happened.
And as your fingers brushed again while you walked, neither of you pulled away.
