áŻËâŕ¨ŕ§ â tobacco & mint [18+]
á˘đŠEnjin x f!Reader
.・.:*â wc â 16.5k | beta read | proof read
SYNOPSIS Enjin didnât know you were hiding all that under your somewhat baggy cleanerâs uniform until one day August gets a new whiff of inspiration to cook you up the possibly hottest uniform among the cleaners yet.
CONTENT nsfw / fluff / sexual tension / porn with plot / resolved sexual tension / mutual pining / slow burn / friends to lovers / coworkers to lovers / service top!enjin / praise kink / submissive reader / cursing / oral f!receiving / fingering / sadist!enjin if you squint
WARNINGS nsfw / weed / usage of she/her pronouns / mdni
PT2 >>> detergent & sweets
Enjin was a simple man with simple needs.Â
A couple cigarettes. The rush of tearing a trash beast apart piece by piece. The relief of a joint right after. Hitting up his favorite local spots at the end of a workday, surrounding himself with gorgeous women who couldnât deny the fact that he, too, was quite the specimen himself.Â
Simple.Â
Once you joined the Cleaners, heâd been ecstatic to finally share the burden that was being in your twenties while babysitting a bunch of brain-wrecked teenagers.Â
For the first time in a while, he had room to breatheâtime to indulge, and not just in stolen moments.
He could prep joints at night for the next day. Take long baths. Hook up with strangers. Stumble back home high out of his mind at bonkers hours in the morning.
He wasnât above sharing his pleasures, either. Heâd invite his adult coworkers to go out with him from time to time.
Gris usually took him up on it if his day had been particularly roughâespecially after some heavy trash-beast ass-kicking.
Semiu, on the other hand, decided on a whim whether she felt like tagging along or not.
As for Zanka, Enjin was already looking forward to the day heâd be old enough to become a potential drinking buddy. Fingers crossed.
Heâd even invited you along a couple of times as well, only to learnâpretty quicklyâthat you were more of a domestic soul. You liked taking care of yourself in your room during your spare time, doing chores, sticking to your own quiet routines and little rituals.
You spent a good chunk of your time tending to your vital instrument. Other than that, you just⌠existed among the residents. Easy. Steady. Reliable.
He exhaled slowly, letting the tensions of the day roll off him as his thoughts drifted towards the night ahead, an unlit cigarette sitting between his lips. The places he might go, the people he might see, the things he might do.Â
His steps echoed through the atmosphere of low humming halls. It was easy to slip into autopilot, leave monotone routine behindâas monotone as his job could get, reallyâ and trade it all for the simple pleasures waiting outside.Â
Enjin had already clocked out in his head. Cigarette, street air, somewhere loudâhe was halfway there when Augustâs voice tore through the hall.
âITâS DONE! HAHA! I DID IT!â
Enjin stopped. Clicked his tongue. Figures. Nothing out of the ordinary. He put his foot in front of the other.Â
Then August yelled your name.
The lighter stayed in Enjinâs pocket. Instinctively, he turned back around to watch the scene unfold in front of him.Â
You appeared like you always did â clothes draping over you like they were just a size too big, hair half-tamed (much like you).
Mildly tired, mildly irritated, yet entirely unbothered by the chaos that was August himself. He leaned back against the doorframe behind him, eyes following the way you yanked the fabric out of Augustâs hands.Â
âOn my fucking life,â you groaned. âWhyâre you yelling? Mâright here.âÂ
âWow, youâre so fun and energized,â Enjin chimed in, as sarcastic as he was relaxed.
You shot him a look â flat, unimpressed. He grinned anyway, like heâd just won a prize, or something. âYou asked for a new uniform?âÂ
âNot really,ââyou held the clothes up to get an impressionââhe just said heâd make me one âcause he felt inspired, so I let him.â
He couldnât help but notice the fabric of the new uniformâ or rather, the lack thereof.
Enjin then realized, distantly, that heâd never really thought about what you looked like under your layers of much too oversized clothes.
The sweaters swallowed you whole, the pants hung low and loose, and somewhere along the line his brain had filed you away as safe. Familiar.
Not something to think about.
âAugust,â you said, turning the scraps of fabric over in your hands, brows knitting together, âare you sure this is for me? This is so not what Iâd usually wear.â
Enjin almost agreed out loud. Almost. It didnât match youânot the way he knew you, anyway.
You were all soft edges and practical comfort, huge sleeves and borrowed pants, a presence that blended into the space instead of demanding it. This thing looked like it wanted to be noticed.Â
He shouldâve written it off right there, shouldâve sided with you and moved on. Instead, he found himself staring a second longer than necessary, curiosity gnawing at him in a way that felt unfamiliar. He wantedâunexpectedlyâto see it on you.
Wanted to know what August had seen that he hadnât. The thought settled in his chest, stubborn, yet not entirely unwelcome.
Enjin was a simple man.
âAre you doubting the gear genius?â He teasingly tilted his head.
âYeah? How dare you?â August scoffed.
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. âIâm not doubting anyone. Iâm just sayingâthis doesnât really look like something Iâd wear.â
August waved you off, already vibrating with confidence. âJust try it on.â
You hesitated for half a second before nodding. âGive me a minute.â
And just like youâd seemed to appear out of nowhere, you were gone again the very next second. The door to your room clicked shut.
Enjin didnât realize heâd been watching until August lightly elbowed his side, muttering to himself about unique stitching, unmatched genius, and a true artistic vision needing proper time to take shape.
Adjusting his weight against the doorframe, Enjin finally lit the cigarette that had been resting between his lips.
Huh, weird.
Heâd seen people change beforeâhell, had undressed people before, had just been about to go out and find someone to undress again. None of this should have registered.
And yet.
Seconds ticked by, and his mind counted them anyway.
He took a drag. Exhaled. Then did it again. The burned-down bud at the tip of the cigarette fell to the floor in what felt like slow motion.
He shifted again, cigarette now between his fingers, trying to convince himself that now could be the time follow through with his original plan: go out, fool around, return at some ridiculous hour. No obligations. No reason to stick around.Â
So why werenât his feet moving?Â
His gaze drifted toward your closed door. For the briefest moment, he imagined what it might look like. Immediately, he shook his head. He really never thought of you this way.Â
And yet.
The thought lingered. The thought of youâany way other than your usual comforting, gentle, easy selfârefused to disappear. He heard the soft shuffle and toss of clothing behind the door until all that remained was quiet nothing.
He couldnât lie to himself. He was curious. Whatever pleasures waited outside werenât going anywhere, and he was entertained enough right where he wasâso why force it?
There was no rush. No harm in sticking around a little longer. If nothing else, it gave him an excuse to annoy you about it later.
Another drag. Another exhale. The cigarette was now less than half its original length. A few more inches fell to the floor, slow, unimportant, meaningless.
The lock of your door clicked. And it mattered so much, for some reason.
Enjinâs head tilted, cigarette now forgotten between his lips. He imagined your last couple motions behind that doorâ a careful tug at a new hem, flatting a creased surface of the fabric, adjusting the fit and drape of certain places. Your hands moving along yourself in a familiar fashion.Â
Your hands moving along yourself.
And that was new. In spite of all the trouble he usually got up to, heâd never thought of you as a woman before. Not once.Â
Then, you stepped out.Â
The uniform fit differently than he expected. On its own, it wasnât flashy, or anything, but it conformed to your shape in a way that made it undeniable. Attention-seeking. And youâŚ
You made it look effortless.
The seams traced your lines perfectly, moving and folding with you in one fluid motion as if the fabric had been waiting for you.
The uniform was stripped down, tight, and sharp. The skirt hugged your hips, short enough to catch the eye without feeling ridiculous. It was tasteful.Â
The top clung to your torso in a way that left neither room for more fabric, nor for imagination.Â
Over it, the cropped jacketâCleanersâ emblem bold across the backâfit snugly, following your every movement without losing its structure.Â
And the bootsâchunky, scuffed, ready for anythingâgrounded you in a way that made the whole thing feel both dangerous and effortless.
And what shouldnât have mattered suddenly mattered so much. Because, fuck⌠you were hot.
Every little shift you madeâa tilt of your head, a small tug at the hem, the way the fabric moved with youâkept catching his attention. He bit the inside of his cheek. Ainât no way youâd been burying all that under those layers.Â
And yet.
Something in him knew better. Your figure fit the style of the uniform perfectly. Natural. Balanced. Built in all the right places. That shouldnât matter. And still, it did. His pulse ticked a little faster, and he kind of hated that he noticed.
What he was most shocked to have to face was the fact that you were pretty much exactly what he imagined whenever he thought of an ideal type.Â
His lungs tightened. Not from desireâat least, not fully. Fascination, awareness, intrigueâall tangled together. The version of you heâd filed away as âsafe, familiarâ no longer fit. Something was⌠different.
You glanced at him, eyebrows raised, waiting for judgment. Approval. Anything.
He exhaled slowly, smoke heâd forgotten in his lungs curling upwards past his curious eyes. âFits,â he said, voice low and casual, as though he was trying to convince himself he hadnât been holding his breath for the past couple seconds.
You blinked, then tilted your head to look down at yourself. âYeah⌠I guess so.â
Neither of you moved. The hall felt quieter, smaller, like any sudden movement could cause him to bump into you. August had gone silent as well, half inspecting his work, half sensing the shift in the air without caring to pinpoint the energy.Â
Whether or not you had realized it, that was up for debate.
Enjin took another long drag. Exhaled. Hoping the smoke would create a barrier between him and your form.
It was then, that he realized it wasnât just the uniform that mattered. It was the subtle shift in you, the way you carried yourself differently, the unfamiliar side of you quietly asserting itselfâand him noticing, no pretending otherwise.Â
Your back straightened, chest lifted ever so slightlyâoh, fuckâand the natural sway of your hips whenever you shifted your weight had him chasing after his own breath.Â
âHonestly,â you spoke, smoothing the fabric of your skirt over your hips, âI thought this would be uncomfortable, but⌠itâs really not. I do actually like it.âÂ
âTOLD YA! IâM A GENIUS!â August screamed, dancing with wild pride.Â
Enjin couldnât help but simply stare. An involuntary smirk grazed his features. âYeah⌠you are a genius.âÂ
He was a simple man with simple needs.
âââââââââŕ¨ŕ§âââââââââ
By the time the last trash beast went down, youâd forgotten what it felt like to wear anything else.
Given the nature of your fighting, bruises were inevitableâsomething you hadnât even considered when you first received the outfit. Now, black-and-blue marks bloomed along your legs, stretching from mid-thigh all the way down.
It was a sight quite familiar to you, the difference being thatâwith your new uniformâ it was visible to everyone around you as well.
You were going to have to do something about that.Â
The adrenaline hadnât quite worn off yet. Your limbs buzzed from all the movement, body feeling hot and fuzzy. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other in pursuit of some sort of relief for each limb.Â
And in spite of all your movements, the pieces of clothing hadnât shifted in any unwanted way. No hems to adjust, no creases to smooth over. Nothing. The uniform didnât just cling to your bodyâit practically felt molded to your physique.
You hadnât had to think about it once during the fight, which, honestly, was the highest compliment you could pay to the resident âgear geniusâ who had so carefully tailored it to your needs.
You glanced over at Enjin, who seemed to be in a similar state as you. Chest heaving, skin dusted with the thinnest layer of sweat and grime.
He leaned back slightly, the ever-present teasing grin tugging at his lipsâa feature that somehow only grew more pronounced after a good fight at the edge of the No Manâs Lands.
He put most of his weight onto his dear umbrella as his gaze flickered towards your form. You caught it flicking down for a split secondâa questioning twitch in his lip, a curious squint of his eyeâand then back up.Â
âDonât start,â you said, already anticipating a comment about the state of your legs.
âWasnât gonna,â he replied easily, his hands up in defense and then catching Umbreaker just in time before it fell over. Then, after a beat, âYou took quite a hit back there, though.â
âWell,â you looked down to properly inspect the spots this time. The bruises blossomed mostly in the areas around and on your knees, though your shins werenât exempt of the hues of color. Frankly, it looked like it usually did. âComes with the job.âÂ
âHuh,â his gaze flickered down again, lingering long enough for you to take note of it. âYou always bruise like that?âÂ
âPretty much?â You responded, putting one leg behind the other, as if it was going to do anything to hide it. âLegs usually take the worst of it.âÂ
âFigures.â he responded, lifting a joint to his lipsâhis habitual celebration joint, as youâve come to learn about him.
His attention to your legs lingered just a second longer than youâd expected it to, before focusing on lighting the end of the blunt with his lighter.Â
âYou know,â he teased as the fire finally caught, then dropping his lighter back in his pocket, âthe amount you bruise in a day feels like the amount I take in like, what, two weeks?âÂ
âWow, youâre so cool for that,â you shot backâunimpressed, sarcastic. âIs this your way of telling me to be more careful?âÂ
âNah,â he smirked, taking a drag of his joint and exhaling the smoke, a relaxed groan escaping along with it. âYou handle yourself just fine.âÂ
That earned him a look. âHigh praise.âÂ
âDonât get used to it.â he retorted, a challenging expression adorning his sharp features.
âAw, why not?â You finally took a moment to stretch.Â
Hands pressed together, you reached overhead, trying to ease the tension built up in your back during the fight. Even as you moved, you couldnât help but notice the hem of your top riding up just slightlyâenough to follow your motion comfortably, never restrictive, never bothersome.
It was honestly impressive.Â
When your arms dropped back to your sides, you caught the faintest flicker of movement out of the corner of your eyeâand for a moment, it felt like Enjinâs gaze was still following you. Just for a heartbeat, though.
âWhatâs up with you today?â
âHuh?â A cloud of smoke tore through his lips. âWhat do you mean?â
âYouâre, like, looking at me all the time,â you said, resting a hand on your hip. âWhatâs up with that?â
âIâm not.â He scoffed, taking another drag, huffing little smoke circles and watching them disappear into the air.
You rolled your eyes. âYou are, though.â
âNo, Iâm not.â
âYou totally are.â
âYeah,â he admitted, shooting you a hopelessly charming smile, eyes shamelessly flicking down and back up your figure. âMaybe a bit.â
Unfortunately for you, his charms didnât leave you entirely unaffected.
You couldnât help it. Anyone with working eyes knew exactly that Enjin was the unfortunate epitome of attraction.Â
The sharp line of his jaw catching the light as he tilted his head, the way smoke curled lazily from his lips, forming all sorts of organic shapes before vanishing into the air.Â
The collar of his shirt revealing the ink nestled underneath his skin, curving alongside his neck, giving him this edge that somehow fit that permanent teasing expression he always wore.
You shook your head slightly, trying to tell yourself it didnât mean anything. But your pulse had its own opinion, quickening with the small, easy awareness of him in front of you.Â
But no. This guy was more than likely carrying a choker filled to the brim with booty calls. There was no reason for him to be paying you that kind of attention, especially since he usually didnât.
Something youâd always been painfully aware of, to your dismay.
âWhatever,â you muttered, more to yourself than him. âCan you drive?âÂ
âWhy?â he grinned. ââCause your legs are busted?âÂ
âYouâre so funny today,â you mustered the most obnoxious fake-laugh you were capable of. âNo, genius. Iâm asking, because youâre high.â
âThat would certainly be a valid concern,ââhe took another taunting dragââif you werenât talking to me right now.âÂ
âSilly me,âyou said, not-so-subtle sarcasm yet to unlace from your voice. âNo, but really.âÂ
You walked past him toward the off-roader, unable to hide the little bounce in your stepâhalf from the lingering adrenaline still coursing through your veins, half from the excitement you felt at the prospect of returning back to your baseâhome.
Heavy steps followed you until you both slid into the vehicle, him in the driverâs seat.
âIâve done wilder things stoned,â he scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes as he inserted the key into the ignition.
âLike what?â You asked, getting comfortable in your seat.Â
âWouldnât you like to know.â
âYouâre so insufferable sometimes.â you sighed, shooting him a displeased look. âJust focus on the road.â
He smiled, eyes meeting yours as if to admit guilt. âNo promises.âÂ
His fingers moved quickly over the keys, firing up the engine before shifting gears and getting the car rolling.
âBuckle up, princess,â he said. âJust âcause your legs are bruised doesnât mean Iâll be slowing down any time soon.âÂ
The little nickname definitely didnât go unnoticed by youâas well as the double innuendo, which wasnât out of the ordinary for himâthough you felt too something to really comment on it.
âDonât you worry about my legs,â you shot back, trying for a casual tone. âNot like Iâm made of sugar or something.â
He smirked to himself, taking a last long drag of the joint before flicking it out the window. âGood to know.â
You caught him muttering something under his breathâmore to himself than to youâbut decided to let it slide. Your pulse still hadnât quite settledâwhether that was from the fight or due to certain body-modded men within your vicinity was something you chose not to worry aboutâ and honestly, you didnât really feel like picking fights, anyway.Â
The motor rumbled beneath you as the off-roader stumbled over the uneven ground of the No Manâs Land, gradually leaving the chaos behind. The road began to flatten with each passing mile, though the ride already felt surprisingly smoothâespecially considering it was Enjin behind the wheel right now.
You kept your hands folded in your lap. Your gaze kept wandering between the trash-ridden landscape â a rather unpleasant sight â and, of course, him â an admittedly rather pleasant side.Â
Despite every warning youâd given yourself, despite every attempt to keep your guard up, he slipped past it effortlessly. He didnât need your consent to get under your skinâand you couldnât really help letting him, either. He was just good at getting peopleâs guard downâat least among the Cleaners.
Or maybe it was just you.Â
Your gaze drifted back to him, more often than you cared to admit. His side profile looked sharper and even more defined against the warm rays of a setting sun kissing his dirt-ridden skin.Â
It was honestly a bit annoying how attractive he was.Â
You mentally traced the patterns of the tattoos disappearing beneath the nick of his shirt, wondering about the way they might continue. Your focus drifted towards the flex of his strong hands on the wheel, covered in similar shapesâhow did they curl under his sleeves?
You shifted in your seat, throwing one leg over the other, and felt the faint sting of bruises along the length of your legs. Nothing severe, but enough to remind you that your fight hadnât been gentle.Â
You flexed them subtly under the skirt of your uniform, partly to stretch, partly out of curiosity, playing a quiet game of âhow long before it hurts too muchâ. Of course, it never got to that point. Itâs just some light bruising.Â
He glanced at you then, out of the corner of his eye, and his smirk widened just slightly, like he knew about the silly game you were playing in your head to entertain yourself. A small quirk of his eyebrow, a tilt of the headâit was enough to make your chest tighten, though you pretended (miserably) to focus on your legs instead.
âSo,â he said, voice casual but teasing, âyou planning on sitting there looking broody all the way back, or are we gonna talk?â
You let out a soft breath, shoulders sinking into the seat. âIâll be honest⌠Iâm kind of tired.â
âI was wondering when youâd say that.â His tone softened, the teasing thinning out. âYou can sleep, if you wanna. Iâll wake your ass at HQ.â
âMm,â you hummed, eyelids already heavier than youâd realized. âSounds good.â
âIâll wake you up good,â he added lightly. âGet Delmon to hose you down.â
One eye cracked open. âOkay. Iâm not sleeping.â
He huffed a quiet laugh. âIâm kidding.â A pause. Then, softer, more genuine: âIâll wake you up real gentle. Promise. Get some rest.â
The hum of the engine filled the space between you. The road stretched ahead, steady and uneventful.
You shifted slightly, adjusting against the seat, legs stretching out a little more carefully this time. Your head tipped back. The exhaustion wasnât dramatic â just the slow kind that settled into your bones after a long day.
You felt it before you saw it â his hand adjusting the climate dial so the air wouldnât blow directly at you. The smallest thing. Almost nothing.
But not nothing.
Your eyes fluttered closed.
The last thing you registered was the faint sound of him muttering under his breath â something about how easily you wear yourself out â and the way the vehicle seemed to move just a little smoother than before.
You were asleep before you even realized it.
âââââââââŕ¨ŕ§âââââââââ
The common area was louder than usualâmusic bleeding from a battered speaker, empty bottles clustering along the tables, the air thick with smoke and laughter. Someone had dragged out a deck of cards, another group arguing loudly over rules that changed every five minutes.
Enjin fit right into it.
He leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the backrest, a drink balanced loosely in his hand as he laughed along with the others. Easy. Relaxed. This was familiar territoryâpost-mission chaos, shared exhaustion, celebration for still being alive. The kind of environment he absolutely thrived in.
His eyes roamed the room in a moment that was supposed to be all about appreciating his weird, little family.
And then, they stopped.Â
You hadnât made any sort of announcement. No dramatic pause, no random attempt at drawing attention. You just slipped into the room like you always didâ quiet, familiar, reliable.Â
His gaze flickered down before he could stop himself.Â
The uniform sat on you as disgustingly well as it always did. Skirt hugged you too well, top accentuated your physique, jacket hung loose over your shoulders, sleeves slinging in the air.
He had just gotten somewhat used to seeing you this way. It was supposed to be safe. It should have been safe.
You chose trouble today.Â
It wasnât the uniform that threw him off.
It was what you added.Â
Dark fabric hugged your legs beneath the skirt, reaching high enough to erase the bruises he knew were there. Practical. Sensible.
That, somehow, made it worse.
He knew why you were wearing them. A part of him basked in the fact that he was probably the only person here that knew why you were wearing them, that this was your attempt at hiding your bruises. And, somehow, knowing what it looked like underneath made it that much more⌠intimate?Â
Not to mention the way that the plush of your legs perfectly spilled over the hem of the fabric, which was the best part about these types of socks, anyway.
But this was you. Cozy, unchanging, reliable you.
With a single addition to your work attire, youâd managed to take it from blurring the lines of professionalism to⌠well, overstepping them entirely. At least, in his eyes.
He couldnât tell if he minded or not. Or he just couldnât admit the truth to himself.Â
The card game, the drink in his hand, the music running in the backgroundâall of it faded as he took his sweet time observing you.
He eased back into the loveseat he was occupying, spreading his long legs like he owned the space, as if waiting for you was the most natural thing in the world.
You greeted a few people, checked on the kids at the childrenâs table, but never seemed to settle in one spot.
And so, he called your name before he could stop himself.Â
Your head snapped toward him, eyes locking with his as you made your way to the poker table.
âHey there,â you greeted, arms loosely crossed.
âHi,â he replied, flashing that infuriating grin. âSit down. We could use another player.â He shifted over, leaving just enough space for you to slide in, and you didâprobably closer than youâd expectedâafter greeting everyone at the table.
His hand draped over the back of the two-seater, half-encasing your frame. His legs stretched, one brushing the side of your thigh, claiming the space with casual confidence, yet leaving enough for you.
âSo⌠what are we playing?â you asked, voice light, like you were trying not to notice the proximity.
âItâs called Bluffing,â he said, eyes flicking toward you briefly. âBasically, the deck is evenly split among the four of us and we have to place cards in order of Ace to King facedown. The catch: You wonât always have the right card at the right turn.âÂ
âAh,â you murmured as you took the drink from his hand and sipped, the weight of his gaze lingering on you. âSoâyouâre gonna have to bluff.â
âRight,â he replied, brow quirking just slightly. âYou can place in multiples, though. If you gotta place an Ace and you have two on your hand, you can place both.â
âI see,â you replied, voice casual and airy. âHow do you win? Or lose?â
âOh, yeahâanyone can call a bluff at any point. If youâre right, the person who bluffed gets the entire pile on the table. If youâre wrong, you need to take the pile,â he responded. âWhoever has no cards left wins. Youâll get the hang of it.â
He leaned back slightly, letting his arm drape lazily over the loveseat, the movement deliberate, stretching closer to you without touching⌠yet. The proximity was ridiculous, and he knew it, and of course, so did you.Â
He could feel the subtle brush of your leg against his, hear the faint shift as you adjusted your seat, the way your hand lingered on the drink heâd gotten himself.
His mind did a quick double-take, because⌠damn. You smelled good. Closer than heâd ever been, and now it was impossible to ignore.
Enjin reached for the full deck on the table, shuffling it, before he split the cards evenly between the four of you, movements smooth and practiced. Cards slid across the table in neat stacks.
âAlright,â he said, glancing around. âWhoâs got the Ace of Hearts?â
Everyone checked their hand.
A beat.
âI do.â
His eyes flicked up immediately.
Of course you did.
âThenâyou start.â
He leaned back, watching from the corner of his eye as you looked down at your cards. You took just a second too long. Your lips pressed together, like you were holding back a smile.
That was new.
You placed a card face-down.
âAce of Hearts.â
He didnât even hesitate.
âBluff.â
The word came easy. Calm. Certain.
Bro snorted. âAlready?â
You turned toward him slowly. âYou donât even know what I put down.â
He tilted his head, studying you openly now. âDonât need to.â
It wasnât about the card.
It was the way you sat a little straighter. The way your fingers lingered on the edge of the card a fraction too long. The almost imperceptible satisfaction in your eyes.
You were asking for it, really.
âFlip it,â Delmon urged.
You held Enjinâs gaze for half a secondâa silent challengeâbefore turning the card over.
Six of Hearts.
Bro burst out laughing.
Enjin didnât. He just smiledâslow and smugâbecause⌠well, there it was.
âI knew it,â he said quietly.
âYou didnât know anything.â You rolled your eyes.
He huffed a low laugh. Then, using the arm that wasn't draped casually behind you, he reached down and lightly poked a spot on your leg he knew was bruised. You yelped, just enough to make him grin wider.
Meanwhile, he couldn't help but savor the fact that he was the only one who knew what your legs looked like beneath the thigh highs. It was his way of telling you thatâat least in split secondâyou belonged to him.
âI know you.â
You muttered something under your breath as you took your card back, clearly annoyedâbut not really.
âAlright,â he said, settling back again. âGo on.â
You drew in a breath, adjusted your grip on your cards, and this time when you placed one down, your expression was steady. Almost neutral.
âAce of Heartsâfor real this time.â
He watched you carefully.
No lingering. No spark. No tiny flare of pride.
Just calm.
He held the silence for a second longer than necessaryâjust to make you feel it.
âAlright. Continue.â
Delmon cracked his knuckles. âTwo.â
He placed two cards down in a neat stack. No hesitation. No theatrics.
Bro eyed him briefly, but didnât bite.
âThree,â Bro said next, tossing one card onto the pile with a lazy flick of his wrist.
Stil, no one called anything.
Then it was Enjinâs turn.
He looked down at his hand. The next number was four.Â
He just so happened to have two.
A small part of him considered holding one back for the next cycle.
He didnât.
He slid both cards into the center. Calm. Clean.
âTwo fours.â
He didnât look at Delmon.
He didnât look at Bro.
He looked at you.
Your fingers were still resting on your cards. But he saw it â that tiny shift in your posture. The way your shoulders squared. The way your eyes flicked to the pile and then back to him.
You were thinking. Good.
He leaned back slightly, arm still draped along the seat behind you.
âYou gonna call it?â he asked lightly.
Delmon scoffed. âHere we go.â
Enjin ignored him.
His gaze stayed on youânot challenging. Just steady.
He wasnât bluffing. But he almost hoped you thought he was.
For the most part, you upheld the eye-contactâeyes flicking towards the cards in his hand from time to time, as if questioning the legitimacy of them.Â
âI wanted to,â you murmured, eyes flicking toward him, wary, âbut⌠now that you want me to call it, I wonât.â
Enjin huffed a laugh.
âFair enough. Your turn.â
You placed your three cards with a smile. âFive.â
Delmonâs brow furrowed as he eyed the pile.
âBluff,â he finally muttered, leaning forward, elbows now resting on his knees.
You blinked, keeping your expression calm. âOh?â
Enjin watched from his spot, leaning back slightly, arm still stretched behind you, smirk tugging at his lips. He didnât need to see your cards to know what was coming.
âYou sure about that?â Enjin asked lightly, just loud enough for the table to hear. His voice carried a teasing edge, though he kept his own cards close.
Delmon hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. âWhat are the odds of having three fives on your hand? Iâm calling it.â
You flipped your first card â five. Then the second â five. And the third⌠five.
It was true.
Delmon froze, eyes widening as realization hit. âHuh?â
You leaned slightly toward the center of the table, a faint, triumphant smile tugging at your lips, sliding the small pile towards him. âThere you go.â
Enjinâs gaze lingered on you, amusement and something warmer flickering in his chest. You werenât even aware of the way youâd slid closer, your side almost fully pressed against him.Â
He felt a soft nudge against his chest â your shoulder lightly stabbing into him. He didnât move. He could feel the warmth radiating from you, the faint brush of your side against his, and the subtle weight of your presence.
He looked down at you, catching your eyes before you looked away. The next second, you muttered something under your breath, too faint to carry over the pounding bass from the speakers. Enjin might have only noticed becauseâwellâhe'd just been looking at your lips anyway.
An idea struck him.Â
As if the proximity weren't already enough, he inched closer, letting his body press lightly against yours as he
leaned down, silently signaling that you should repeat yourself.
His arm draped over you more than it did over the seat, head tilted ever so slightly as his gaze locked with
yours, faces just inches apartâa challenge you were doomed to fail. He caught the brief flicker of your eyes
down toward his lap, though you didn't pull back.
He caught your gaze again, right as your pretty lips began to part. âI just asked if we start from ace again,â you spoke, almost in a whisper.
âNo,â he replied, voice casual, but he couldnât help the small smile tugging at his lips. âNext is six.â
You fit against him perfectly, your frame settling into the dip of the cushions at his side, curves aligning just so. You seemed comfortable there, either unaware of how close youâd slipped toward him or simply finding it as natural as he did.
Everyone eyes shifted to Delmon now that it was his turn. He placed one card down. âSix.â
Right after, Bro laid down a seven. Supposedly.Â
The turn circled back to him.Â
Enjin looked at his hand. Not a single eight. It was time to bluff. No big deal.
He slid two cards into the pile, careful, measured. âEight,â voice calm, almost casual. Not rushed, not nervousâjust like always. He let his gaze flick toward you out of the corner of his eye. The way you were watching him, that slight narrowing of your eyes.
âBluff,â you said, quiet, steady, like it wasnât a guessâlike you already knew.
He froze just for a fraction of a second, more amused than concerned.
âYou think so?â he murmured lightly, leaning into the seat a little more. Not defensive. Not worried. Just curious what youâd do.
You held his gaze, unwavering. Calm. Confident.
Enjin exhaled slowly, sliding the pile toward himself. âAlright, fine,â he said under his breath, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. âYou got me.â
He was just flattered to know youâd watched him so intently.
âDamn,â Bro sighed, hand on the back of his neck. âYou guys are really good at this.âÂ
Enjin hums. âYeah,â he says. âSomething like that.â
Minutes passed, then stretched into what felt like hours. The pile grew steadily, now close to a quarter of the deck, and no one could afford to lose. Yet somehow, bluffs hadnât been called in forever.
âYouâre taking forever,â you groaned, tapping your cards lightly, fidgeting.
âIâm thinking,â he replied evenly, though the tiniest twitch of a smile betrayed him.
âThinking about whatâbluffing?â
âWanna call it? I dare you.âÂ
He glanced at his cards, then back at you, then back at his hand, before cautiously sliding a ten onto the ever-growing pile.
âOne king.â
It was intense.
âYouâve got to be lying, man!â Delmon exclaimed, eyes fixed on the pile as if staring harder would reveal the truth.
âOkay, call it then. See what happens.â His empty threat earned groans all aroundâBro rubbing his forehead in frustration, Delmon gripping his knees like he needed an anchor. And you⌠still. Too still. Still in a tense way, like you were frozen in time.Â
He didnât know if it was reflex, instinct, or just a quiet urge, but his hand had started tracing lazy shapes along your shoulder. You seemed to relax into it, even if only slightly, and he was quietly glad to be of some comfort.
It also seemed to distract you from the game, which was a bonus.
It was your turn now. The pile demanded an Ace.
You picked a card and slid it onto the pile, voice even, airy. âAn Ace.â
His eyes narrowed just slightly. He could tell.Â
The way your fingers lingered on the card before letting it go, the tiny pause in your voice, the way your gaze flicked to him and then quickly awayâyou werenât enjoying the lie as much as you should have been.
He considered calling it. Just for a moment.
But he couldnât bring himself to let the pile crash down on you.Â
He leaned back just slightly, letting his gaze rest on you for a beat longer than necessary, noting the faint lift of your chest as you exhaled, and the subtle tension easing from your shoulders. Not because he needed to, not because he wanted to punish youâjust because he could.
Just because he liked it.
âââââââââŕ¨ŕ§âââââââââ
You played round after round after that, the hours slipping by unnoticed. The table shifted, drinks were replaced, the music grew louder and then blurred into the background.
By the time the night began to thin out, heâd walked you through the halls and left you at your door, talking about nothing and everything at onceârecent expeditions, Rudoâs progress, who had handled the trash beasts better on the last mission (obviously you). You said your goodbyes like you hadnât half-sat in his lap just moments earlier.
And you just couldnât shake the thought of him.Â
His lingering looks.
That honeyed tone to his voice.
The way his words always seemed to push just enough to see what youâd do with them.
Youâve been trying to catch sleep for a couple hours, but the phantom sensation of his finger lazily tracing circles into your shoulder hadnât faded. Neither had the warmth of his body pressed against yours, or the image of his sharp, calloused hands working the deck.
You groaned into your pillow, kicking your feet against the mattress (which was dumb, because your legs still hadnât recoveredâit hurt really bad).
This was frustrating.Â
Even now, your body felt as though it was running just as hot as it had when pressed right against the side of his hard chest. Tingles ran over every bit of skin that touched him. Your thoughts wandered places you usually always tried to keep them from and you were failing miserably tonight.Â
His naked, inked skin.Â
His strong, broad frame.Â
His stupid hot fucking smile.Â
The way his hands would feelâŚ
Youâd usually always been able to handle him, but something was just different this time.Â
This wasnât the same old big-ego Enjin. It was him threading himself into your thoughts, somehow playing with the pace of your heartbeat, the temperature of your skin, the electric feeling in your stomach.
Sleeping was pointless. You were lucky you had nowhere to be in the morning.Â
Maybe you should take a shower.Â
You begrudgingly lifted your face from the squished pillow and pushed yourself up, heading to grab a change of clothes before shuffling toward the bathroom.Â
By the time you reached it, your resolve had wavered enough that you didnât even bother shutting the door fully before peeling off your sleep shirt, carelessly throwing it onto your pile of laundry you had yet to find a day to tackle.Â
The water felt relieving against your skin. Today felt like the kind of day that justified turning it really hotâwhich Enjin always hated, since it usually meant a cold, miserable shower for him the next morning. After tonight, you figured he kind of deserved it.Â
If he was going to occupy your thoughts, you were claiming the hot water.Â
The sensation of the water running down your body seemed to numb the pain in your legs, but it did little to wash away the feeling of his skin pressed against yoursâbecause of course it wouldnât. This wasnât a physical sensation, it was him in your head.
You turned the temperature up a notch.
It burned, but it felt good.
Single droplets pierced you like hot needlesâa type of pain you actually welcomed. All the tension of the day seemed to wash off your body, disappearing down the drain along with the water.
You could stay here for hours, maybe even fall asleep like this. All your senses felt cut off from the outside world, with no room for any unwanted thoughts. Just the unbearably hot water, close enough to feel endless.
And then, there was a beep.
You froze. You hadnât taken your choker off yet.
Someone was calling.Â
You feared you knew exactly who.Â
âEnjin, what the fuck? Itâs, like, 1 a.m.!â you whisper-shouted, covering the choker as best you could with your hand, as though that was going to shield you in any way.Â
âHuh? Itâs almost 3. And I can hear you,â he replied.
âYeah, I know, weâre in a call!â you said, exasperated.
âNo, like⌠I can hear your shower,â he clarified, a faint chuckle in his tone.
âAnd you thought itâd be a good idea to call me in the shower?â
âYou picked up, didnât you?â His grin practically radiated through the call.
What you hated most in this moment wasnât that he calledâit was the fact that you were excited about it.Â
And the fact that he was right.
âYou donât even know how hot my shower is running right now.â you challenged him, hoping to get him right where you knew it hurt.Â
âThatâs fucked up,â he laughed, like he wasnât taking you seriously at all. âJust to tick me off? Or you just felt like showering hot?â
âI donât have to answer that.â you mumbled, reaching for the shampoo bottle.Â
âAnd that says so much,â he replied. âWhyâre you taking a shower in the middle of the night? Didnât you say you were tired?âÂ
âI was tired,â you admitted, letting the water cascade over your shoulders. âI just couldnât fall asleep.âÂ
âMm, same,â he replied. âItâs kind of your fault for turning on the shower, though.âÂ
âThats on you.â And you regretted these words the moment they escaped your lips.
âWhatâd I do?â
Because what were you even going to tell him? That you couldnât stop thinking about how good he smelled? That you wished his arm had fully encased you? That you actually kind of liked it when he pressed down on your bruises? That just thinking about any of it made your body react in ways you could never, ever admit out loud?
âI just donât like you.â you muttered, scrubbing shampoo into your hair, trying to keep your voice even.
âI know thatâs not true, sweetheart,â he said, his smile as audible as ever through the line.
Again with that pet name.
âIâm just gonna stop talking.âÂ
âYou could also just hang up.âÂ
âWhy donât you hang up?
âI donât want to,â he chuckled lowly. âI feel like you donât really want to stop talking, either.âÂ
You heard him shuffle on his end of the lineâthings cluttering and moving around.
âYouâre very confident in yourself.âÂ
âHang up, then.âÂ
You didnât reply. You didnât hang up, either.Â
âThought so,â he murmured with a faint exhaleâwas he smoking?ââWanna come over?â
âWhat. Now?âÂ
âYeah. Or, you know what?â The sound of shifting feet, a quiet grunt. âIâm coming over.âÂ
Your fingers clenched slightly around the shampoo bottle, as if it was your lifeline. âIâm in the shower!âÂ
âWell, hurry, my footâs out the door already.â And the click of his door shutting was, indeed, audible on the other end.Â
The moment you felt the shampoo rinse completely from your hair, you stepped out of the shower, grabbing the first towel within reach.
âAt least wait, like⌠two minutes,â you said, tugging it tighter around yourself. âPlease.â
âBut then Iâd have to walk all the way back.â
âOur rooms are next to each other!â you shot back, exasperated.
âYeah⌠way too far. Damn, you should lock your door.â
âAre you in my room right now?â
âYes, maâam,â he replied, as if that settled everything.
âJust waitâsit down somewhere. Iâll be right out.â you replied hurriedly, dropping the towel after drying yourself off and getting into your giant sleep shirt.Â
Shutting the bathroom door behind you and quickly shuffling your way back to your space, you find him splayed out on your bed, staring at the ceilingâor perhaps following the pattern of the smoke as it rose into the air.Â
âWell?â he asked, his focus not shifting toward you quite yet. âYou gonna keep me waiting?â
You crossed your arms, trying for irritation. âDo I look like I had a choice?â
Then, he spared you a glance, eyeing your frame for a moment. Then two.Â
He smiled. âYou look good.â
You blinked, caught off guard. âSorry?â you asked.
âYou look good.â He met your eyes after letting his attention wander all over you. âLike⌠really good.â
You shifted on the spot, tugging at the hem of your shirt. âDonât start with me, Enjin,â you muttered, though a faint warmth had already started spreading through your chest.
âRelax, Iâm just messing with you,â he said, propping himself up against the wall. He made space on the mattress, patting the newly free spot as a silent invitation for you to get comfortable.
He brought the blunt to his lips and took a long, unhurried drag. You could practically see the smoke fill his lungs, his chest expanding before he leaned his head back slightly and exhaled, the haze curling lazily toward the ceiling. The sound he madeâlow, pleasedâhad no business shooting right through you the way it did.
You took a short breath, grounding yourself, then crossed the room and settled into the space heâd made for you. You leaned back against the pillows, angling your legs carefully so they didnât tangle with his, even though the mattress dip made closeness unavoidable.
When you glanced over, he wasnât looking at you anymore.
His gaze had gone distant, unfocused, like heâd drifted somewhere else entirely as the drug settled in. For a moment, you just watched himâhis relaxed posture, the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way the smoke still lingered around him.
The thought that he looked kind of ethereal quietly passed your mind.Â
Then, with the slightest tilt of his head, his eyes found yours again.
âWanna try?â he asked, holding the blunt out toward you. You blinked. Once. Twice.Â
âWhatâsmoking?â you echoed.
âYeah.â His smile was lazy, unpressuring. âYou donât have to.â
You hesitated. Youâd never really felt the urge beforeânever saw the appeal. Still, curiosity nudged at you, persistent and annoying.
ââŚIf you teach me?â
Something softened in his expression, just briefly, before a faint smile took over.
âOf course, sweetheart.â
He held it closer, waiting. You took it carefully, immediately aware of how little you knew about what to do with it. Youâd seen people smoke before, sureâbut holding it yourself felt strangely intimidating. For something so small, it suddenly felt like it carried a lot of weight.
And you were supposed to breathe that in?
âItâs pretty intuitive,â he said, watching you with open amusement. âJust donât inhale too deeply.â
âThatâs your instructions?â
âTo be fair,â he chuckled, lifting his hands in lazy defense, âyouâre probably gonna start coughing anyway. Just a heads up.â
Your eyes rolled on instinct.
You studied the blunt like it might give you some sort of guidance if you stared long enough. Then you brought it to your lips and took a tentative inhale.
Nothing.
Frowning slightly, you tried againâdeeper this time.
Instant regret.
The burn hit fast and sharp, ripping the air straight out of your lungs. You sputtered, coughing hard as smoke escaped in uneven bursts, shoving the blunt back into his hand while you struggled to breathe. You were hunched forward, absolutely wrecked, eyes watering.
Enjin was already laughing beside you, completely unapologetic.
âI told you not too deep,â he said between laughs. âI gave you one instruction.â
You wanted to snap backâhad a dozen words lined upâbut air still hadnât fully returned to your lungs, and all you could manage was a glare that only made him grin wider.
âEasy,â he said, laughter still in his voice as he shifted closer. His hand came up to your back, warm and steady, rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. âBreathe. Iâve got you.â
He guided you gently back against him, your spine settling against his chest.
You coughed again, sharper this time, eyes stinging as you tried to suck in air that didnât burn. âYouââ you rasped, grounding yourself with a hand on his leg. âYouâre evil.â
He hummed, clearly entertained. âYeah, yeah. Deep breaths. In through your nose. Just like that.â
You did as he said, partly out of necessity, partly because the weight of his hand made it easier. The coughing eased little by little, your chest still tight but no longer on fire.
âThere you go,â he murmured, closer now, voice lower. âSee? Still alive.â
Without really thinking about it, you leaned back, letting your head rest against him for just a second as you caught your breath. âI hate you,â you mutteredâthough it came out far less convincing than you meant it to.
His thumb traced a lazy line along your shoulder. âMhm. I can tell.â
You exhaled sharply, shoulders tense. âYou absolutely set me up.â
âI warned you,â he said, lifting the blunt past your frame and bringing it back to his lips. âYou just didnât listen.â
Thatâs when two things hit you at once.
Oneâyou felt it.
Your thoughts began to loosen in a way they never had before. The constant noise in your head softened, blurred, fading into something distant and manageable.
And twoâthe position you were in.
Your hand resting on his thigh.
Your back pressed flush against his chest.
His arm lazily draped around you, like you just did this all the time.Â
It was a dangerous combination. With your thoughts dulled and hazy, you didnât have the energy to filter your thoughts about how much you actually liked it anymore.
He shifted slightly behind you, just enough that the pressure of his chest against your back deepened, and you felt the subtle weight of his attention resting along the back of your head.
âSee?â he murmured, more to himself than you. âKnew youâd feel it.â
You frowned faintly. âFeel what?â
âThe quiet,â he said, his finger lightly tapping against your temple. âYou stopped fidgeting.â
That caught your attention. Youâd usually try to deny itâbut you couldnât. Your thoughts felt slower. Softer.
He sensed it before you even said anythingâthe way your breathing evened out, the tension in your shoulders easing, the subtleties of the things you didnât doâlike pulling away, or fighting back.
âLook at you,â he murmured, voice low, almost cooing. âSo calm⌠seriously, this might be the longest stretch youâve gone without barking at me.â
âShush,â you muttered, cheeks warming. âMânot calm. Nâ I donât bark.â
âSure, baby,â he said, that word curling around your spine. âWhatever you say.â
And you didnât even have it in you to fully process the new pet name.Â
His hand found the hem of your shirt, tugging it lightly between his fingers, testing the fabric against your skin. Not enough to pull it up, not enough to be overtâdefinitely enough for you to notice.
You felt the faint brush of his thumb against your side with each little pull, a whisper of contact that made your stomach tighten.
âYouâre kind of comfortable.â you muttered, trying for casual as you pulled your hand backâslowly, like you didnât want to draw attention to it.
âOnly kind of?â he asked, voice easy, almost amused. His fingers flexed once against your side, just enough to be intentional.Â
âOkay,â you murmured, almost to yourself. âYouâre really comfortable.âÂ
âMm, sure seems like it,â he let out a soft hum. âYou feeling tired?âÂ
âNo,â you replied, letting your words trail just slightly. The warmth of your body pressed into his was dizzying. âMâjust very good right now.â
His hand moved lazily along your side, brushing your hip with an absent-minded care that made your stomach twist. âMm,â he murmured. âWant me to stay?â
You nodded.Â
âOkay.âÂ
The room fell into a quiet that wasnât uncomfortable, just⌠present. No teasing, no jokesâjust him and you.
Slowly, his fingers traced the curve of your waist, mapping the gentle swell of your sides as if committing every line to memory.
Each movement was bold in intention yet measured, teasingâlike he was daring you to react, and you found yourself holding still, caught between hesitation and anticipation.
The warmth of his touch spread through you in ways that werenât just physical; it was the attention, the quiet focus of him exploring without words.
His hand was no longer just playingâit was present, outlining the frame of you, leaving you aware of every point of contact, every subtle press of skin against fabric.
His other hand slowly lifted, fingers weaving through your hair. With a practiced ease, he swept it over to one side, letting your thick sleep shirt slip just enough to expose your shoulder. The fabric pooled lazily around the curve, leaving your neck bare to the warmth of his gaze.
A content sigh left your lips.Â
âYou like that?â he whispered, his warm breath brushing along your ear. You already knew he didnât need an answerâhe just wanted to hear it from you.
You complied with a soft hum.Â
He took one last slow drag of the blunt, the tip glowing faintly in the dim light. You caught the plume of smoke in your peripheral vision as he exhaled, and it curled lazily over your shoulder, teasing your bare skin.
With a subtle flick of his fingers, he sent the finished blunt spinning onto the floor. You were too caught up in the moment to care, letting the tension in your body unravel under his attention.
You donât think youâve ever been this relaxed.
The hand that had been tracing your side drifted lower, slipping past the hem of your shirt. It moved agonizingly slowly, skimming over the soft skin of your bare thigh, his thumb drawing lazy, teasing patternsâjust a little too far up, just a little too far in.
Just a little too much to pass off as friendly.
He was giving you just enoughâenough to make your skin burnâbut never enough to truly satisfy the ache that had built up inside you. The moment felt charged, but it wasnât as simple as just raw intimacy.Â
His breath skimmed the skin of your neck in slow, even intervals. âYouâre really soft.â It almost sounded like a question.Â
You could feel his attention on youâthe hazed focus of his gaze lingering along the line of your neck, the faint feeling of his hair grazing your skin. Then he inched in closerâslow, gentle kisses traced along the length of your neck. And despite all the tension coiled in your body, they werenât meant to provokeâjust soft, unhurried.
He pulled back, resting his head atop your shoulder.Â
Part of you was relieved he didnât take it further. Another part of you screamed at the loss of the feeling.Â
âYouâre not telling me to stop,â he whispered into your shoulder.Â
And, yeah. You werenât.Â
You swallowed, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his sleeve. âYeah,â you said quietly, words slower than usual, âShould I?â
There was a pause. Not the heavy kind. Just enough to let your words settle.
âUp to you,â he replied easily, his thumb returning to trace an absent-minded line along your side. âIâd be a bit butthurt about itâbut, you know. Whatever.â
That made you laugh.Â
He stuck to caring strokes and gentle touches.
You drifted off to sleep in his embrace that night.Â
âââââââââŕ¨ŕ§âââââââââ
He was a simple man. At least, heâd always thought he was.
Things just failed to feel simple lately.Â
Enjin sat at the table, leaning slightly forward as Semiu traced patrol routes on the worn map spread across the surface. Corvus flipped through the mission logs, scribbling notes in the margins with a pencil that had long since lost its eraser.
He answered questions when prompted, offered minor adjustments to the routes, corrected a timing estimateâon the surface, he was engaged.
His thoughts were entirely elsewhere.
Theyâd gotten stuck with you in your bedroom that night, about a week ago.Â
The memory lingered at the edge of his mind, pulling his attention away even as Semiu traced the eastern perimeterâand he was fucked, since he couldnât for the life of him figure out why she was outlining it in the first place.
The scratch of Semiuâs pencil across the map, the rustle of papers, the muted scribbling of Corvusâs notesâthey all faded into the background.Â
He could almost feel your warmth, hear the soft sighs youâd given him, see your eyes closing at the subtle pleasure of his touch.Â
He understood heat, understood wantâthe easy kind, the kind you didnât have to think too hard about. Touch, tension, release. Heâd never been precious with it. Never needed to be.
So thisâthis gentle kind of cautionâsat wrong in his chest.
The way his hands slowed before touching you. How instinct kept telling him to pull you closer, but something quieter told him not to rush. Like moving too fast might shatter something he didnât quite have a name for yet.
That part confused him.
Youâd always felt safe. Why did that matter so much right now?
And then that uniform.Â
It shouldâve been the usualâcharming smiles, lingering touches, the spark of attraction he knew how to handle. Instead, it had hit him sideways. Like the sight of you had shifted something into place rather than set it on fire. Pride, maybe. Something that settled instead of burned.
The realization crept up on him slowly, unwelcome in how obvious it suddenly felt.
He wasnât being gentle because he didnât want you.
He was being gentle because, somewhere along the way, youâd started to feel precious.
And that thought lingered far longer than he wanted it to.
He absently rubbed the back of his neck as Semiu asked about polluted zones by the border of a No Manâs Land near the eastern perimeter.Â
âUh⌠yeah, those are clear,â he said, eyes drifting to the empty chair across the table, imagining you slumping into it, hair damp from a shower, in nothing but that huge shirt youâd worn that night.
Corvus glanced up sharply. âYou even paying attention, Enjin?â
He blinked, shook his head slightly, and forced a nod. âYeah, just⌠thinking âbout the deployment,â he muttered, realizing how transparent that sounded.
Heâd like to get deployed with you again.Â
No. Stop. Not now.Â
It wasnât about him seeing you for the first time when he laid eyes on you that day in the hallway. Something in him had been stirred awake, something that had been dormant for quite some time.
Granted, the way you looked definitely didnât hurt.
He just hated how smitten he felt about it.
Once he realized youâd fallen asleep, breathing slow and even against his chest, heâd chosen to give you space. Heâd tucked you in carefullyâtoo carefully, if you asked himâpulled the blanket up to around your shoulders and all that. Left without waking you.
He took a shower after. Cold.
For once, he didnât even mind that youâd used up all the hot water. Heâd planned on it anyway.Â
He just couldnât believe the way he was treating you.
Enjin wasnât selfishâjust a bit indulgent. A hedonist in the simplest sense. He liked what felt good and had never been shy about reaching for it.Â
He wasnât unfamiliar with want. He knew exactly how far he couldâve gone, how easy it wouldâve been to guide you there with him. You wouldâve let him. He was sure of that. And he wouldâve taken care of you â that wasnât the issue.
Because, fuckâhe wanted to.
So why didnât he take you?
You hadnât been tense. You hadnât been provoking. Youâd been safe.
Again, safe.Â
He was starting to get fed up with safe.Â
He clenched his jaw. It annoyed him, the way heâd held back. Especially considering the things he couldâve done to youâwanted to do to you. Thinking about making you call out his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say anymoreâover and over again.
And yet.Â
He didnât.Â
He replayed it in his head more times than he cared to admitâthe way youâd leaned back into him without thinking. The way your voice had softened. The way you hadnât told him to stop.
You wouldâve let him.
That was the problem.
It wouldnât have taken much. A slight shift of his hand. Turning your face toward his and closing the distance. You were already pliant in his arms, hazy and warm and trusting.
Trusting.
His jaw tightened again.
Of all the things he couldâve doneâwanted to doâheâd chosen restraint.
His mouth had found your neck, yesâbut only in the softest way. Slow, measured presses of his lips against your skin. It was the one thing he couldnât quite stop himself from taking.
Even then, heâd been careful.
And when had he ever been careful?
Enjin didnât do careful. He did instinct. He did desire. He did taking and giving in the same breath. Going with the flow of things.
This time, something in him had paused.
Not out of uncertainty. Not out of fear that youâd reject him.
Out of something worse.
He didnât want to cheapen it.Â
The thought irritated him more than anything else. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply through his nose.
Even here, surrounded by stained papers, pencils, and scattered mugs, the thought of you was impossible to shake.
Seeing you in your uniform hadnât started this. It had just made it harder to ignore. The way you carried yourself. The way you focused. The quiet competence. It had sharpened something that had already been there.
When had he become so aware of you? Of the way you looked at him differently lately. Of the way his body reacted to even the smallest shifts in your tone.
He wasnât used to wanting something slowly.
It was unsettling.Â
Because if this was just lust, he wouldâve satisfied it already.
And he was only just starting to realize it.
Semiu and Corvus started gathering their things. Somehow, the word dismissed drifted into his awareness, and before he fully realized it, he was up as well, tidying alongside themâhands moving almost automatically, thoughts still elsewhere.
Moments later, he waved them goodbye and stepped out of the briefing room, moving through the low, humming halls.
The day had passed in a blur.
Heâd looked for you briefly, only to be told youâd been cooped up in your room all day, finishing reports you had let pile up and procrastinatedâyou really hated paperwork.Â
And he just knew that about you.Â
At some point, heâd bumped into Semiu in the common area. She had finished her work for the day early and didnât really have anything left to doâshe figured sheâd like to use the evening to enjoy herself, or something along those lines.
Enjin had agreed.
Thatâs how he found himself in a crowded barâor clubâhe wasnât even sure and it didnât really matter. He was perched at a table, smoking his bluntâas per usualâwhile Semiu sipped a drink across from him, seemingly enjoying the light buzz in her system.Â
The music did most of the work in drowning out his thoughts. Around him, people were dancing, some were flirting, touching. Others were getting wasted, a couple were fighting. The colorful light pierced through the clouds of smoke all over the place.Â
The kind of environment he usually thrived in.Â
Usuallyâ
Oh. Semiu was talking to him.Â
ââŚmany prank calls. Like, seriously, it pisses me off,â Semiu ranted, leaning back in her chair, fingers tapping impatiently on the table.
âTotally,â he replied, taking a slow drag from his blunt. The smoke curled around his fingers as his gaze drifted over the crowd, half-present, half-lost in thought.
âIâm too nice on the phone. I bet the hell guards donât get calls like that,â she continued, voice rising slightly with exasperation.
And he tried so hardâgenuinelyâto listen to his coworker and friend he held so close to his heart. He really, really did.
âYeah, seems unlikely,â he murmured, blowing the smoke upward and letting it dissipate into the dim light.
âEnjin. Whatâs up with you today?â Semiu pressed, leaning forward now, her eyes narrowing slightly as she caught the distracted set of his eyes.
âHm?â He blinked, realizing sheâd actually addressed him, fingers flexing absently around the blunt.
âDuring the briefing, too. You, like, disconnected from the world or something?â Her arms crossed over the table, resting the weight of them on it.
âNah, Iâm good,â he said, a faint grin tugging at his lips, taking another slow inhale. âWhy? You worried about little olâme?â
 âAâight. Imma take your word for it. For now,â she sighed, shaking her head. âBut also only because Iâm so fed up by the calls I donât really have the capacity to listen to you right now.âÂ
âHonestly,â he said, exhaling the last of the smoke from his lungs before flicking the blunt into the ashtray on the table, âworks fâme.â
âYouâre welcome, boo.âÂ
Enjin felt a dip in the seat next to him.Â
In his peripheral, a woman, about a head and a half shorter than him. It almost slipped his mind that things like this happened to him more often than notâthat he usually waited for them.
âHey,â she smiled at him, feigning innocence, though they were both well aware of her intentions. âYour nameâs Enjin, right?â
Ah. So heâd spoken to her beforeâsomewhere, sometime.
He finally spared her a proper look. She sat upright, legs elegantly crossed, hair cascading over one shoulder like a deliberate portrait. A subtle flush colored her cheeks, softening her features.Â
Andâusuallyâsheâd be just the type of woman heâd go for.
But today was not a usual day.
âNope.â He popped the p with unnecessary emphasis. âNameâs Goostaf Hurgenskurk.â
The look on Semiuâs face in his peripheral was pricelessâher eyebrows shot up, mouth half-open in a mixture of shock and amusement, like she couldnât quite decide whether to laugh or glare.
âOh, sorry,â she stammered, stepping back a little. âMustâve confused you with someone.â
She turned on her heel and hurried away, leaving him with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He watched her retreat, letting the brief amusement linger before his thoughts drifted back to⌠well, everything else.
âSo,â Semiu said, raising her glass to her lips, holding his gaze deliberately as she took a slow sip before setting it back on the table. âGoostaf.â
âI donât even know,â he sighed, running a hand over his face. âI was just trying to think of a weird name.â
âWhy, though?â Semiu leaned back, tone soft with genuine curiosity. âSheâs pretty. You always let a pretty girl take you home with them, no?â
âYou make me sound like a manwhore,â he muttered, a defeated chuckle escaping him.
âWellâŚâ Her voice trailed off, insinuatingâjust letting the thought hang in the air.
Enjin groaned, letting his head fall back against the chair. âI just donât feel like it today.â
âI feel like,â she said slowly, tilting her head up, a knowing look slipping into her expression now, âyouâre just feeling someone else.â
Andâhowever she figured it outâhe knew that she was right.
The thought settled heavier than he expected. Heâd been circling it all day, avoiding it, dressing it up as confusion or exhaustion. But now, sitting in the middle of a crowded bar with music pounding around him and with his good friend sitting across him, it finally landed.
Properly.
âFuck, Semiu,â he groaned, dragging his hands down his face before letting his forehead fall briefly into his palms. The realization hit harder than any drink or drug in the room ever could.
Her brows lifted. âIs that whatâs been bothering you all day?â
âYeah,â he exhaled, sitting back again, staring at the table instead of her. âI justâI havenât really seen her for a week. We keep missing each other at work,â he rubbed at the back of his neck. âItâs rough.â
âYou should just stop ogling her every chance you get and man up,â Semiu said, tapping her fingers lightly on the table, eyes fixed on him with quiet insistence.
âOgling is a kind of a strong word for it.âÂ
âShe ogles you too.âÂ
âYeah, I know,â he let out a short laugh, shaking his head, before letting out a sigh. âIâm losing my mind.â
âNo, man,â she said simply. âYouâre okay.â A small pause. âJust let her know.â
He looked up at her. âNow?â
She shrugged lightly. âDependsâdo you want to tell her now?â
âââââââââŕ¨ŕ§âââââââââ
You. Despised. Paperwork. With. A. Burning. Passion.Â
Hours had passed since youâd started, and the stack of reports in front of you had barely shrunk. Every form felt the same as the last, every column and checkbox an endless, mind-numbing loop.
Your pen scratched across the page, filling in numbers, ticking boxes, repeating the same information over and over, trying desperately not to make mistakes. Your eyes ached, your back was stiff, and your brain was screaming for even a single moment of entertainment.
You slammed your pen down. Enough. You needed a break.Â
For a moment, you leaned back in your chair. The room was quiet, the night outside slanting through the window casting a cold light on the mess of papers. You hadnât moved from that spot all day, and it showed.
Boredom clung to you like a second skin. Attention fractured. Thoughts wandered.
You missed everyone. Watching Zanka train Rudo from the corner of the training yard, hearing Semiuâs voice echo from the common area, even the occasional gruff comment from Delmon â all of it made you wish you could be anywhere else right now.
But youâd told everyone to stay out of your room unless it was an emergency. No distractions. No interruptions. You needed to get through the paperwork, and the last thing you wanted was someone leaning over your shoulder asking questions or chatting.
It was definitely what you wanted, though.Â
Still, even in the quiet, your thoughts kept drifting. You missed him too.
No. Focus.
You let out a long, tired sigh, shoulders slumping as you rubbed at the ache in your neck. The pen hovered uselessly above the next form.
Your eyes wandered across the room, landing on the stack of completed reports next to youâneat, precise, and utterly soul-crushing. You pushed it away with a flick of your wrist.Â
Enough of this.
Youâd finish the rest tomorrow.Â
You leaned back in your chair, stretching your legs and letting the tension in your body ease slightly. Somewhere in the corner of your mind, you imagined him thereâon your bed, attention drifting into nothingness as smoke swirled gently around him, unhurried and softâand him looking utterly peaceful. Pretty.
A knock at the door froze you mid-stretch.
Your heart skipped. Youâd told everyone to stay out unless it was urgent.
Another knock. Louder this time. Your chest tightened. You hesitated, staring at the door, mind racing through every possible scenario.
Slowly, cautiously, you approached and cracked it open.Â
To your surprise, it was Enjin.Â
And as much as he didnât look like he was about to deliver bad news, something about him had shifted. The air around him felt different.
No performative expression. No mischief in his eyes. No provoking glint. Something much softer had settled over his sharp featuresâa contrast that made your chest ache a little.
âHey,â you said, brows knitting slightly. âDid something happen?â
âNo,â he answered simply. His voice was calm. Certain. âNot at all.â A beat. âCan I come in?â
You studied him for a second longer, searching his face for anything you mightâve missed. Finding nothing urgentâjust your own curiosityâyou stepped aside.
He moved past you without another word. Not brushing against you, not lingeringâclose enough that you felt the warmth of him as he crossed the threshold. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound louder than it shouldâve been.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
He took in your roomâthe desk crowded with papers, the stack youâd shoved aside, the pen lying abandoned where youâd dropped it. His gaze lingered there briefly before returning to you.
The silence wasnât awkward.
It was heavy.
And whatever heâd come here to sayâyou felt like it mattered.
Just that he didnât say anything. He looked at you, held your gaze as though he had all the time in the world. Like it stood still, right here in this roomâwith you.Â
You caught the faintest dip in his gazeâjust slightly, brushing over the lines of your shoulders, the skin underneath the collar of your shirtâthe smallest of shifts of his irisesâbefore returning to your eyes.
You felt like you were being⌠scanned. For something. But you didnât have the capacity to commit your mind to what that could possibly be, because your focus was on something entirely unrelated.Â
The breadth of his shoulders.Â
The vivid reds and blacks inked into his skin.Â
The loose curl of his hair falling near his temple.
He didnât say anything. Not with words, at least. But you were beginning to understand.
He stepped toward you, slow and unhurried, closing the space without breaking eye contactâwhich felt like a bit of a crime in and of itself. It was unbelievably nauseating, made you feel powerless, but in kind of a good way.Â
Had he always been so tall? He really towered over youâcouldnât even look at him anymore without folding your head back.
His hand found yours first, fingers curling gently as he drew you in. You could feel sparks at the tips of your ownâand it hurt. It hurt so much, because all the tension in your body seemed to come crashing down on you all at once and it hurt so much it felt good, somehow.Â
Then, it snaked around your waist, steady, holding you close. You didnât quite grasp what was actually happening, you just knew you wanted more, but also anticipated possibly throwing up butterflies any second now.Â
His body was so unbelievably warm and bigâthe scope of it so up close was a bit hard to grasp. You feel the outlines of his defined body through his thin sweater and you forgot how to breathe for a second.Â
His other hand came up to cup your face, gentlyâso unbelievably gentle, like your skin might crack under anything more; it almost made you cry.Â
His fingers slipped into your hair, careful, slow. His thumb moved back and forth along your cheek, steady and soft. Tenderâand you started wondering when you would have ever described him that way.Â
You were beginning to understand.
Your initial hesitance vanished into thin air along with the ability to think straight.Â
And all the what-ifs and maybes that had been crowding your mind melted away the instant he pressed his lips against yours
The sound of your heart pounding mixed with the ringing in your ears; you were certain you were about to die, if it wasnât for the way he was squeezing your frame against his, like he promised to catch you if you were going to fall.Â
He was slow. Tentative. Testing the waters, as if silently asking for permission youâd already given him a million times over in your head.Â
His grip on your waist tightened just slightly, almost accidentalâtrying so hard to hold back, yet his true immediacy shone through the cracks of his performative reluctance.Â
He had been just as desperate to do this to you as you had been to have it happen.Â
You felt the butterflies do their thing againâand it was fucked up how easily heâd given them to you, with something as simple as a kiss and a couple touches entirely unraveling you.Â
Shivers trickled down your spine at the sensation of him, of it all; his warmth radiating through the fabric of his sweater, his lips moving with your own in a painfullyâagonizinglyâslow tandem.Â
Then he pulled backâno more than an inchâyour soft, warm breaths mingling in the small space between you. A lazy, faint smile on his face.Â
âHey,â he exhaled.
A simple word. It didnât mean anything, reallyâbut it did. And you understood.
âHi.â Your voice almost ran out. Airy. Barely even there.
His grin widened, before he leaned back in again. Initially soft and merciful touches turned more intense, intentional; a firmer grip on you, a stronger tug on the back of your head, tangling into the strands of your hair at the nape of your neck.
Your body, your mind, your everything seemed to solely focus in on him. There was nothing more important than this, him kissing you senseless and holding onto you like you were going to disappear if he didnât.Â
You felt him grow impatient with each passing momentâpulling your body even closer by the small of your backâand you couldnât help but notice how large his hand felt there. He angled his head just right to deepen the kiss with natural finesse. He was everywhereâfilling all your senses, overwhelming your system in ways you never thought possible.
He smelled of faint hints of tobacco, though he tasted a lot fresher than youâd expectedâalmost minty in flavour. The mix of cigarettes and mint made for a spicy tingle on your tongue and all you could think about was how it kind of fit the man you were holding onto like a lifeline.Â
Your hands found the nape of his neck, feeling up the short hairs of his sharp undercut.
You were trying to catch a thoughtâany thoughtâat least a single wordâbut you hadnât taken a proper breath in nearly half a minute, and it was definitely starting to affect your ability to think clearly.
That he hoisted you up by the underside of your thighs with controlled ease a moment laterânot breaking away from you for even a secondâdid not help in the slightest. He took a few steps somewhereâbefore your back met the hard surface of the wall behind you.
Your legs comfortably tangled around his waist as he pinned you against it with his hips, hard. The hand previously on your cheek joined the other on your waist, fingers digging into your side, abandoning any idea of slow and tender.
Your own hands traveled beneath his collar, nails dragging across bare skin and if he didnât have this tattoo you were sure thereâd be deep, red scratches there.Â
Groans rippled through him with every drag of your nails, the sound shooting straight through your stomach. It only seemed to provoke him furtherâpulling you closer by the arch of your back and pressing you against him, his fingers digging in just enough that you knew youâd feel it the next morning.
The kiss turned messy. There was no sense or rhythm to it, only pure instinct and insatiable hunger for the other. No matter how close he wasâhow deeply his fingers dug into your skinâyou still felt like he couldnât be further away. You wanted him closer, as close as physically possible and more.Â
He moved on towards your neck and it was nothing like the faint pecks heâd left there that night a week ago. This was him devouring you, moving right on the edge between pleasure and pain. His kisses stung as he bit them into your skin, likely tainting it with red and blue hues. âYou feel so fucking good,â he whispered, basking in the way your body twitchedâyour sweet gasps nothing short of music to his ears.Â
Once he felt like he was done with one place, heâd continue his assault further down along the blank canvas of your skin, leaving only stinging spots behind, before finally returning to your swollen lips, leaving one single, slow and deep kiss.Â
âEnjin,â you heavedâthe first time you were able to take a long breath in a hot minute.Â
âMm?â He hummed, leaving lazy pecks on your lips, eyes entirely dazed. Sometimes, heâd move it to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jawâjust peppering you with gentle kisses, taking his sweet time with it.Â
His grip on you told a whole different story.
His huge hands encasing more of you than you could have ever expected, pinning you against him with little to no effort, like your weight meant absolutely nothing to him. And why would it? He was easily two times your size, if not more.Â
âI needââ kiss. ââmore,â another kiss. âPlease.âÂ
He pulled back an inch or two, a faint yet devilish smile adorning his face. âMore of what, sweetheart?âÂ
His head dipped back into the crook of your neck, lips grazing the newly mark-ridden parts of your skin, leaving a couple more soft kisses along their pattern. âMore of this?â Â
And he was well aware that that was not what you meant. You knew he knew that was not what you had meantâand it was frustrating to no end. The ache between your legs was getting more unbearable by the second. âNoâwant you to touch me,â you whined. You tried to ease the tension by pulling him closer, shifting your hips against himâevery attempt in vain.
He had you pinned securely in place, and there was no adjusting it without his help. Without his permission. âPlease, Enjin.â
âI am touching you, baby,â he huffed a breathy laugh, before holding his hand out to you, offering it. âHere. Move it to where you want me, sweetheart.âÂ
You held his gaze for a moment, weighing your options. It hurt your ego to have to admit this to him in such a degrading wayâand still, a part of you felt so cared for. Your pride urged you to save face, but given the position you were in, there wasnât necessarily much ego left to save. If accepting his offer meant getting the itch scratched you so desperately needed attention for, then it was simply what you had to do.
And soâwithout breaking the eye contacâyou took his hand in your own and first guided it down the like of your body and underneath the hem of your shirt. His brow quirked slightly, eyes darkening as it met the plush of the inside of your legs.Â
Ever so slowly, you moved it a couple inches further in and further up, until his fingers finally met the sole layer of fabric separating you from what youâre asking of him.Â
The smile that grew on his face was something else.Â
He shifted, properly supporting your weight on one leg while keeping you steady with a hand snaked around the small of your back. Then, without hurry, he tugged the fabric aside, running his fingers along your sore, wet folds.
His gaze tilted down to where his hand disappeared beneath the fabric of your shirt. âDamn, baby. Youâre soaked,â he let his fingers dip into you for nothing more than a couple inches before running them up and down againâtracing you. Memorizing you. âFuck, thatâs hot.âÂ
The sounds that left you would have left you feeling quite embarrassed, if you werenât so distracted right now. The relief of the friction did a lot to sate your desire for a momentâbut you could already feel yourself wanting more.Â
He seemed to have picked up on it as his fingers moved upwards to solely focus on your wanting and waiting clit. Your eyes shut close at the sudden feeling of him finally giving you what youâd needed, gripping at his shoulders for dear life as if youâd fall if you didnât and whining his name through broken breaths like a personal mantra.
He hummed. You felt his muscles shift beneath your palms, like his head had tilted upwardsâlike he was looking at you again. âYes, pretty girl?âÂ
âSâreally good,â you exhaled, opening your eyes only to see Enjin already fully focused on you through your hazed vision.Â
âI know, baby, I know,â he cooed, corner of his lip faintly quirking upwards. âWasnât even gonna do this with you,ââhe leaned in, eyes falling to your lips before catching them with his in a short kissââwas gonna come here and tell you how I feel. Wanted to spend more time with you, ask you out on a nice date, do it right this timeâbut you,â his eyes met your gaze againâthis time, more intense.Â
His previously tender attention towards your clit turned overwhelming in an instant. The pad of his finger moved a little faster and harder nowâeach deliberate stroke drawing a sharp, involuntary twitch from your body.
Youâd never felt so overstimulated, every sensation heightened to the brink, and yet some reckless part of you was completely, helplessly into it.
Soft whines slipped from your mouth, and if anyone happened to be on the other side of the wall you were pressed against, you were certain theyâd be able to hear you.
âLooked up at me all doe eyed like that. Said âpleaseâ like that.â His fingers dipped into you without warning, two of them filling you more than two fingers ever should be able to, but, of course, Enjin and his blessed, huge hands, took little to now effort to make you see stars. âThis what you wanted , sweetheart?âÂ
âMm, yes,â you breathed, pure instinct taking over as you pulled him back in by the nape of his neck.
It drove you insaneâthe way you felt his jaw shift against your palm, the slow graze of his tongue along your bottom lip, the steady curl of his fingers inside you, again and again and again.
âMm,ââhe separated from you for a momentââsâjust for you, baby,ââbefore leaning back in. His fingers curled inside you again and again, brushing that sensitive spot that made your insides tighten and your skin burn in ways no one had ever made you feel before.Â
He had something about himâsome kind of chemistry that felt entirely unique to Enjin. That towering height, those striking features, paired with his addictive charisma that showed in the way he talked to youâin the way he touched you, kissed you.
It wasnât demanding in a forceful sense. It was unraveling. It was simple. You were willing to hand yourself over completelyâwithout him ever having to ask. Like some sort of spell.Â
Without breaking away, his fingers slowly slipped from you ever so slowly, drawing a soft whine from you straight into the kiss. You felt the faint curve of his smile against your lips. Then his hands were on you again, firm and sure as he hoisted you up against him and carried you away from the wall.Â
The edge of your desk met the backs of your thighs as he eased you onto it with controlled care, settling you against the surface. You felt the edges and corners of the sheets of paper youâd just been working on minutes ago right beneath you, itching and poking at your skin.Â
With one last, teasing bite to your bottom lip, he pulled back from your kiss-swollen lips with a devilish glint in his eyes.
He lifted his fingers to his mouthâthe ones previously teasing you beyond measureâand licked them clean of you without breaking his hazy gaze from you. You could tell he was doing it just to mess with youâand it was working unfortunately well.Â
Your attention drifted to the thing repeatedly pressing against your inner thigh, and a mix of curiosity and anticipation washed over you.Â
Given the size of himâhis body, his hands, his limbsâyou had expected him to be a certain⌠size. And in a way, he met those expectations. But to feel the bulge of him so intimately pressed against you made it hit you all at onceânow that your bodies were pressed close to flush against one another.Â
This man was big.Â
Your hand reached towards the hem of his pants, almost instinctively, before his own hand caught yours by the thin of your wrist. Looking back up at him you noticed the corner of his mouth curled upwards. âNot now, pretty girl.âÂ
Your head tilted in response. âWhy not?âÂ
 âSome other time. Jusâ wanna focus on you today,â he brought your hand within his towards himself, leaving a couple of gentle pecks along the inside of your wrist.
âBut what about you?âÂ
âIâll enjoy you, baby,â he leaned back in, pausing just an inch before, a devilishly charming smirk resting on him. âDonât worry your pretty head about it.âÂ
His lips found yours again, trading a few more heated kisses before drifting to the corner of your mouth, along the line of your jaw, and down to your already tender neck.
He roamed your body with no shame, tracing your every lineâfrom the swell of your chest to the plush of your hips. Groping at your sides and circling your waist with his hands, before pushing you backwards for you to lean against the wall behind you, forcing himself between your legs, casually.Â
His hands found their way between them again, collecting the slick on his fingers, before lazily drawing patterns over your pulsing, sore clit, drawing all sorts of sounds and reactions from you as passively pumped his fingers in and out of you every now and then, like it was just second nature to him.Â
His kisses trailed downwardâpast your heaving chest, along the curve of your stomach, across the warmth of your thighsâbefore his head finally settled between your legs, where he left a mix of teasing love-bites and gentle, lingering pecks on the insides of your thighs.
âYouâre very kissable,â he commented from his position on his knees, looking up at you as he guided your legs to rest atop his shoulders.Â
The sight was chargedâthis huge man, both in height and breadth, overwhelming in body mass and bearing the authority of the head of your team, kneeling there in front of you. Something about the commanding way he held himself even in that submissive posture.Â
It didnât make him any less impressiveâor any smallerâin your eyes. If anything, the juxtaposition only made him more magnetic.
He looked fucking hot.
His hair all messed up, lips kiss-swollen, mirroring your own, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat, eyes dazed with pleasure and radiating the sheer power he naturally carried. His brow was quirked ever so slightly, a faint, mischievous smile on his face.
âIs that why you bit my neck raw?â you asked, looking down at him through your own daze, fingers grazing through the short strands of his hair, not much bite in your voice despite your words.
He huffed a laugh, and your heart skipped a beat.
âMâabout to do much worse than just eat your neck, babygirl,â he said lowly, his hot breath traveling past the thin skin of your inner thighs, his gaze traveling downwards.Â
And with that, his tongue dipped through your folds, dragging a slow lick up your heated, pulsing core. Your breath shuddered, your hand gripping at his hair to anchor yourself as he worked you up.
His hands wrapped around your thighs, your feet resting on his shoulders as he pinned you against his face, tongue dragging up and down through your folds and making a point to flick your sensitive, aching clit in the process.
âEâEnjin⌠ahâsâ so good.â
You felt him suck it into his mouth, toying with it between his lips before letting it go in a wet kiss and continuing his assault. You felt like the meal of a starving man.
He had no shame in the way he was eating youâthe sounds he was making, the way he was practically making out with you. What youâd yearned to feel was finally coming true, and your body and mind seemed to sing with the relief he was finally granting you.
He pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit, rhythmically dragging it up and down. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, holding you against him as to leave no room for escapeâat least not until he was done with you.Â
This man youâd known to be so indulgent in his own pleasure now shifting his focus entirely onto you left an impact that would haunt you for the rest of your life. No one had ever treated you the way he did, touched you the way he hadâmade you feel the way he was making you feel.
Youâd certainly never experienced anyone going down on you of their own free willâlet alone seeming to take pleasure in it themselves.Â
No man, no less.
And yet, here he was, caging you against him, just in case the pleasure he was giving you became too much to handleâwhich, judging by the way it was building up, it already was starting to feel that way. He definitely wasnât letting you go.
The friction drove you crazy, made you feel as though you were floating and falling all at once. You couldnât decide whether to pull him even closer or push him away, but you knew that everything about him felt so fucking good and something was building up inside of you that only he could unravel.
One of his hands loosened its grip on your thigh, sliding down and around it, before two fingers began pumping into you, curling against the spot Enjin had claimed the moment you had guided his hands between your legs.
âAhâplease donât stop,â you writhed and you whined, eyes shutting close at the overwhelming feeling of him flooding your senses.
âMâright here, baby,â he breathed against you, before turning his attention back to your puffy clit, fingers deep and curled inside you.Â
Pleasure twisted into an intoxicating kind of painâthe rare kind that made you ache to explore it even more. It burned, it stung, sharp and sweet all at once, and yet you knew with absolute certainty that if he stopped right now you would shatter into a million miserable pieces.Â
Without warning, he suckled your clit into his mouth again, flicking his tongue over it as his fingers pumped in and out of you with relentless rhythm. Your legs instinctively clamped around his head, trying to shut out the overwhelming sensation, to push him awayâto no avail.
Your body reacted on its own, trying to relieve the strain he was putting on you, but your mind wanted nothing more than to keep him as close as humanly possible.
âMâ gonna⌠please⌠sâso much,â you whimpered, forever torn between pulling him closer and trying to escape.
That only seems to edge him on as he raised the intensity, moving harder and faster in every way imaginable and making you see stars and cry his name like a desperate prayer.
âEnjinâfuck, sâso good, please-âÂ
Your climax crashed over you, leaving you trembling in the wake of it.
Like the good man heâd proven himself to be, he guided you through it, helping you ride the wave, tracing lazy circles over your clit with his tongue while his fingers moved in slow, languid rhythm. Finally, he pulled back with one last, gentle kiss to your now tender and abused clit.Â
He slowly rose to his full height, hands flat on the surface of the table, encasing your pleasure-drained body, your torso leaning half against the wall.
âIf I had known you taste this good Iâd have done this a lot sooner,â he smiled, catching your lips in a kiss you couldnât resist if you tried.Â
âMm,â you replied in a haze, returning the pecks he was giving you and tasing yourself on lips tongue. âCan I return the favor?âÂ
âAs much as Iâd love to see you try, baby,â he smiles, helping you off the desk as he scoops you into his arms effortlessly, making his way to the bathroom with you. âHow about we take a hot shower together and I take you out on a date first?â
âââââââââŕ¨ŕ§âââââââââ
PT2 >>> detergent & sweets
CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE :3
thanks to my amazing beta readers @zukunyy and @imjusttrashignoreme
thanks to my boyfriend who helped me write a service top because he just can
and thanks to @pixopix for the dividers :3
A/N: AND THANK U GUYS FOR READING <333 Iâm planning a part 2 to this because I need me so dom Enjin and Iâm actually more of a fan of oral m!receiving anyway sooo yeah thatâs gonna happen hopefully :3 again, thanks for readingâIâd appreciate a reblog if you liked it シ:*+.\(( °Ď° ))/.:+ if you have any requests you can definitely lmk













