Farting is such a taboo thing in society especially if u do it in front of ppl...
Now think the Lis reaction when u accidentally let out a toot or a blast of your own infront of them....
I need thoughts on this cuz personally I might perish from this very earth
Nahhhh, I would just...đđťââď¸ââĄď¸đđťââď¸ââĄď¸đđťââď¸ââĄď¸đđťââď¸ââĄď¸
Sylus will not look away to save your feelings, he will not pretend he didn't hear it. Heâd just slowly look up from whatever he is doing, lift an eyebrow, and let out a smug ass chuckle. He'd find it funny and pretty endearing, but he would absolutely never let you live it down.
â"You can't act like a feral stray one minute and then blush like a pampered house cat the next. Pick one, kitten."
Zayne. Silence. The kind of silence where he just stares somewhere else and adjust his glasses while you're internally screaming. But then he looks at your bright red face, sighs, and decides he needs to do a medical intervention for your dignity.
â"There is no need to look so horrified. From a gastroenterological standpoint, suppressing natural flatulence can lead to abdominal distension and unnecessary discomfort. You are simply maintaining proper digestive tract motility. So, scientifically speaking... good job."
Zayne, stfu and let me die of embarrassment in peace!
Xavier. This man acts like he heard absolutely nothing. It never happened. He would just keep blinking those soft, sleepy eyes of his, completely deadpan but with the most innocent, serene smile on his face.
âI think he would immediately try to cover for you by changing the subject to something totally random so you don't feel awkward. Like, heâd just tilt his head, look at you with warmth, and casually say, "Hey... I was just thinking, do you want to go grab some pancakes? Or maybe we can just find a sunny spot and take a nap."
After all a true prince never lets his lady's dignity suffer.
Caleb. He would look at you with a soft, incredibly goofy, love struck grin. Like, his eyes would be crinkling, and he'd look at you like he loves you more now because you're finally getting more intimate and gross around him. What did you expect?! He'd probably try to high five you too.
"A solid 8 out of 10. The delivery was a little abrupt, but the confidence? Impeccable."
Rafayel. He's mean about it. Once he sees you're genuinely mortified and hiding your face in your hands, he'd lean in to poke your shoulder and whisper, "Hey... if you wanted to blow me away, you could have just told me I look handsome today. You didn't have to take it so literally, you know."
Cw: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh riding. Size kink. Panty sniffer Caleb Jealous Xavier. It includes links to đ˝ videos on X for visual examples on what was sent. đ MDNIđ
Sylus/Xavier/Rafayel/Zayne/Caleb
Yeah*sigh*I'm ovulating again. Enjoy đ
Part 2 here When they accidentally send you a porn link...
The blue light of your phone screen is the only thing cutting through the darkness of your bedroom. You really should have been asleep an hour ago, instead, youâre spiraling down a rabbit hole you didn't even know existed.
Size kink.
Youâd never really thought about it before, not until you started dating Sylus and tonight you were just scrolling, looking for something to satisfy the empty ache Sylus left all week.
This video is something you had never seen before or even thought was possible. You watch, mesmerized by the way the womanâs stomach subtly shifts a visible bulge as he stretches her out.
Heat pools instantly between your thighs, making your breath hitch and a dizzying sensation of fullness hit your gut. He's always so careful with you, so agonizingly gentle, as if youâre something precious he might break if he breathes too hard. But looking at this... a dark part of your brain wonders what it would feel like if he didn't hold back.
"Holy shit..." you whisper to the empty room.
Your hand moves instinctively, fingers sliding down to find slick heat. The video is playing on a loop. Bulge. Stretch. Deep. Repeat. You watch it while your imagination runs wild, replacing the stranger on the screen with the man who owns your heart. Youâre picturing his heavy weight pinning you down, his eyes blown wide, filling you until you canât even scream.
Youâre chasing a peak that feels miles away until, suddenly, it isn't. You hit your first orgasm with a stifled gasp, back arching off the mattress, only to find yourself immediately chasing the second one, body trembling and spent in the wake of the first.
By the time the second wave of pleasure ebbs away, youâre a puddle of limbs and heavy eyelids. Youâre half conscious, drifting in that beautiful limbo between wakefulness and dreams. In a daze of post orgasmic euphoria, you squint at the screen, your thumb hovering over the comment section.
"How do I send him this without actually sending it to him đł"
You tap 'send' with a clumsy thumb. You meant to just post it as a thought, a digital scream into the void. But as your eyes flutter shut, your hand twitches a final, involuntary spasm of exhausted muscle. Your thumb slips. It slides across the 'Share' icon, hovers over the very first contact at the top of your recent list, and taps.
Sent.
You don't hear the subtle whoosh of the outgoing message. Delivered directly to the man who at this very moment is probably staring at a security feed or sipping red wine.
Sylus.
You just fall into a deep, blissful sleep, completely unaware that you've just lit a fuse.
âCome on, sweetie, donât give up on me now" Thrust. The impact is heavy, forcing a breathless gasp from your lungs. âYou can take it, canât you?â
He isn't being the gentle, careful man you know. Not today. His hand is hooked firmly behind your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, forcing you to watch the unmistakable, fat bulge stretching the skin of your lower abdomen, proof to just how deep heâs buried himself inside you.
âYou wanted this, now you have to take it and you are going to watch.â
And there it is. The reality of it. Itâs visceral. Itâs exactly what you saw in that video, but itâs a thousand times more intense because itâs him. Itâs real.
Your vision swima and just as the shock of it all starts to settle, he shifts. He changes the angle of his hips in a calculated move that hits your G spot dead on. An uninhibited scream tears from your throat, echoing through the room.
âI've been trying to behave,â he says, and the words come out rougher than he probably intended, an edge of frustration bleeding through his usual composure âBut you make it so difficult... fuck... by sending me your filthy little thoughts.â
His hand settles against your belly, firm and heavy, and the second he presses down, your body reacts with a sharp inhale. You tense instinctively, muscles coiling around him, but you don't pull away. You can't.
âCan you feel me here?â he asks, breath coming in uneven bursts. Heâs buried balls deep and for a split second, you see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. You make a face, a strange, overwhelmed expression of fullness, and he looks like he might actually pull back to give you a moment to breathe. He thinks heâs pushing too hard.
Heâs wrong.
Don't you dare.
Driven by a desperation you didn't know you possessed, you move your hips in a searching rhythm, pressing his hand down harder against your stomach. You want the pressure. You want to feel the exact point where he meets your skin from the inside.
He lets out a loud groan at the sensation. Your narrow walls clamp down on him, tighter than they've ever been. Every millimeter of space between you feels like itâs disappearing, leaving nothing but friction and heat.
You don't have the words to tell him that you never want him to stop, so your body does the talking. You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he holds you there, keeping you exactly where you are until your breathing turns unsteady.
Until your body softens in momentary surrender and tightens again a second later, as if you're fighting a war with yourself, trying to decide whether to let go or to hold on tighter.
In the end, you don't choose. You do both.
The world dissolves into a hot haze of pleasure. It couldn't be called an orgasm because this feels like a total system failure. Youâre sobbing his name or maybe youâre just gasping for air, you canât tell anymore as waves of pleasure crash over you, violent and unrelenting. Your pussy seizes around him in long pulses, milking him, begging for the very thing thatâs pushing you past your limit.
He follows you a few seconds later, burying himself soooo deep you feel the hot rush of him filling you.
Slowly, the fog begins to lift, leaving you in a state of blissful, heavy lethargy. The hand that was just pressing so ruthlessly into your belly softens, fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.
"You really are a menace." he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.
The shame you expected to feel, the embarrassment of that accidental video is nowhere to be found. Instead, there is only a sense of immense satisfaction.
"Next time," he whispers into your hair "don't bother sending a link. Just tell me. I'll give you everything you desire. Every single time."
The problem with being in love with a man like Xavier is that your brain is constantly a minefield of "what ifs."
Heâs incredible, truly, but youâve noticed the way he pulls back sometimes. When heâs brooding or when that possessive jealousy starts to prickle at him, he becomes almost too careful. Like heâs afraid he might actually break you if he lets go of that restraint.
So, naturally, youâve been doing a little "research" to keep the inspiration alive.
Now, youâre sitting on the edge of your bathtub, scrolling through your feed, a habit thatâs becoming a bit of a vice, when a video catches your eye. A girl pinned to a mattress, her head pressed down by her partner as he fucks her from behind. Hard. The sound of her moans echoes in your ears through your headphones and suddenly the bathroom feels about ten degrees too hot.
God, yes.
You quickly save the link to your "later" folder, a digital stash of things you want him to eventually try, and then scribble a quick, thirsty comment on the video "This but with my boyfriend dressed as Lumiere đ¤¤Â " and set your phone down.
Buzz. Buzz.
A notification lights up the screen. Itâs him.
[Xavier]:Â Found a new hot pot place. Apparently, the broth is spicy enough to kill a Wanderer. Want to go tonight? Please say yes so I can stop thinking about food and start thinking about you.
A soft laugh escapes you. Heâs so predictable, yet so devastatingly charming when he wants to be. Your answer is an immediate "sure" because youâd say yes to a lukewarm bowl of water if he was the one serving it.
But he always forgets to look at the menu and ends up ordering something way too spicy or something you're not in the mood for, so you look for the restaurant's menu.
You see the link. Tap it. Copy. Paste. Add "Look at the options! The spicy broth looks insane." Send.
Funny thing is, you don't actually copy the menu's URL, you just cut it. You don't even realize you just sent him the very un culinary link to the video you were just watching to fuel your own delusions.
Little typing bubbles appear. They dance for a long time. They disappear. They reappear.
"Lumiere?" the name sounds like a curse "You wanted Lumiere to pin you down?"
Your face is pressed so firmly into the mattress that the fabric feels like a part of your own skin, the scent of laundry detergent mixing with the heat of the moment. Every time he thrusts into you, the world tilts, your vision blurring into white light and dark shadows. The Xavier who kisses your forehead and cuddles with you is buried somewhere deep inside the man currently fucking you breathless.
"Xavie..." you try to speak, but his name dies in your throat as he shifts his weight.
"Tell me," he demands, losing the battle with his own restraint. He hits you hard, a deep, soul shaking thrust that forces a broken moan from your lips. "Tell me you don't need a costume to feel this."
You try to answer, to tell him he's being ridiculous...
Smack!
The sting of his palm against your ass makes you gasp, your fingers clawing at the mattress for purchase.
"You sent it to me on purpose," he mutters as he leans down, his chest pressing hard against your back. "You wanted to see me like this, didn't you? You wanted to see if I could be as rough as him."
He doesn't want an answer. He doesn't wait for one. He just wants to hear you whimper his name when he hits that perfect spot.
His hand presses your face down even harder into the mattress, muffling your cries. It's everything you were craving when you were scrolling through your phone earlier, but the reality is a thousand times better.
You start to move, trying to meet him halfway, trying to grind back against him to find the friction that will push you over the edge.
"Faster..." you beg, trying to turn your head to tell him that there is no Lumiere, there is only him, but he just presses you back down, his thumb grazing your hip bone with trembling pressure.
"Shhhhhh, just a little bit more," he lets out a long groan, his forehead dropping to rest against the back of your neck for a fleeting second before he surges upward again. "You should see the way your pussy is taking my cock right now, so greedy. Just for me."
His hand shifts. It leaves the back of your head to find the column of your throat. His thumb and middle finger curl around your neck not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he is in total control.
He stills for a heartbeat, his middle finger softly tapping the pulsing vein in your neck. "Every beat belongs to me tonight"
You just nod, a jerky movement, because you are standing on the very edge of a precipice, and the fall is coming. The tension in your lower belly is wound so tight itâs almost painful.
"Say it," he breathes, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his words a warm, humid ghost of a sensation, his control fraying at the edges.
"Yours," you finally whisper, like secret youâve been holding in your lungs for far too long, finally allowed to breathe.
The moment the word leaves your lips, he loses the last of his mercy.
He pulls back almost entirely, leaving you aching and empty for a fraction of a second only to drive back in, bottomless and bruising. Itâs a cycle of withdrawal and overwhelming fullness that leaves you reeling.
"Give me what's mine" the command vibrates through your entire body.
The world dissolves into white light as your head falls forward, muscles spasming in the violent quake of your climax, but he catches your hair, tugging just enough to force your head up, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and swirling with a hunger that could swallow the stars.
"Good girl," he whispers against your parted, trembling lips.
He thrusts one last time, deep and final, spilling molten heat as your name breaks from his lips, torn in half by bliss before he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. For now, the jealousy is gone. There is only the quiet, heavy reality of being his.
The video catches your eye instantly. The lighting is a soft purple, casting a surreal glow over the two people on screen. A girl is on top, her movements slow and agonizingly deliberate as she drags her pussy over her partners cock, the rhythm of it making your cunt clench.
Tonight you are in a "no filter" mood. You need to share this. You need to tell Tara.
With a smirk, you tap the share icon, copy the link, and switch over to your messages. You find Taraâs profile pic or so you think and start typing with the kind of unhinged energy only a best friend can appreciate.
You and Tara have long since abandoned the concept of "boundaries" when it comes to your filthy late night chats.
âOmg Tara, look at this. Rafâs cock is so pretty, I swear if heâd just let me do this to him, Iâd never leave the bedroom again đĽľđŚâ
You hit send with a satisfied whoosh and let out a long, dramatic sigh. Silence follows. For a few minutes you go back to scrolling, blissfully unaware that you have just dropped a digital bomb into the inbox of a man who is already struggling to maintain his composure.
Your phone vibrates.
Itâs not a "LOL" or a "Damn" from Tara.
Itâs a notification from Rafayel.
Rafayel:Â Is that so?
Your heart skips a beat. You frown, squinting at the name at the top of the chat.
Wait.
Your face goes from pale to a shade of red that would put a sunset to shame. You stare at the screen, wanting to physically crawl inside the phone and disappear forever. You want to delete it. You want to throw the phone out the window. You want to move to a different planet.
But then, the little typing bubbles appear again.
Rafayel:Â Don't just sit there blushing, cutie. I'm coming to your place and you are going to show me exactly what you want"
Youâve lost track of time. Your thighs are starting to ache, every muscle in your legs feels tight, strained from holding yourself upright, yet you keep moving. You have to. The friction is the only thing keeping you grounded.
Youâre straddling him, your knees digging into the soft linens, focused on the way your cunt drags over his cock. Slippery. Hot. Wet.
Every time you slide down, the underside of him, that thick ridge presses ruthlessly against your clit. You can feel the vein running along his length pulse in perfect synch with your clit.Â
Thump thump. Thump thump.Â
"Slow down..." he groans, gripping your hips "You're going to... fuuuuck... you're going to kill me"
The friction is creating a heat of its own, a sliding friction that makes your head spin. You watch slightly delirious, as the light from the moon filters through the window, catching the sheen of sweat on his pale skin and the way his hair is plastered to his forehead. He looks wrecked. He looks beautiful. He looks like he belongs entirely to you.
But his hands are far from weak. They are heavy weights anchored to your hips, and he uses them to sabotage you. Just when you think youâve found a rhythm that might actually save you, he tightens his grip, forcing your hips to slow, dragging the slide of your pussy out into a long, shallow glide.
Itâs cruel. A sadistic kind of torture, making the night feel endless, as if the clock has stopped just to watch you suffer.
He wants to stretch this out. He wants to milk every drop of anticipation from your veins until your entire body begins to tremble, not from pleasure, but from the weight of the climax that refuses to arrive. He wants to push you to that edge where even your silence sounds filthy, where the quiet between your breaths is thick with the unspoken things you want to do to him.
Once heâs satisfied with the slow pace, his hands begin to wander. They trace the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the swell of your breasts, learning your body the way a sinner learns to pray. Like hunger learning the art of restraint just long enough to make the eventual feast mean something.
You slide back just a fraction, settling the heat of your pussy directly over his balls and then you reach down.
Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, just like you saw in that video. You begin to stroke him while simultaneously rotating your hips in a circular grind over the heavy fullness of his balls.
The sound that tears from his throat is something unhuman, a vibration that feels like it's coming from the depths of the ocean.
Your name is caught between his teeth in a soft, sinful exhale. He sounds undone, completely unraveled by the sight of you taking exactly what you claimed you wanted in that accidental text.
Heâs right there, on the edge of an unravelling collapse.
And because you are just like him, a creature of beautiful, chaotic impulse, you don't let him have it. Not yet.
You release his cock, hand slipping away just as the tension reaches its peak, and drag your soaked cunt back up the entire length of him in one loooong slide.
It feels like a collision of two fires.
In your desperation to feel everything you let your entire weight drop. The clench of your pussy as you cum wraps around the underside of his cock, squeezing him with a force that leaves him absolutely helpless.
He has no choice but to follow you into the fire.
Spurts of his cum paint the pale skin of his stomach, the liquid warmth spreading in thick, white streaks, pooling in his belly button.
For a few seconds, neither of you moves. There is only the sound of your breathing and the humid scent of your shared exhaustion.
âWas that pretty enough for you, cutie?â he teases, though his hand trembles slightly as he reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers on your cheek, like heâs constantly checking to make sure you haven't vanished into the night. "Or do we need to do it again?"
Itâs late, way past the time Zayne would usually be nudging you to sleep but heâs still tucked away in his office, probably buried under a mountain of medical charts or surgical reports.
Your eyes are glued to your phone screen, watching a VIDEO of a girl grinding against a manâs thigh, bodies pressed together, his hands steady even as she buries her face in the crook of his neck. The guy in the video is wearing pajamas that look disturbingly similar to the ones Zayne is wearing right now.
Suddenly, the empty space in your bed feels a little too vast, your mind drifting to the office down the hall, aching to be that girl, to climb onto his Zayne's lap while heâs buried in medical charts and just... fuck yourself stupid.
You want to reach down and touch yourself but youâre a loud sleeper and an even louder moaner. If you start now, thereâs no way he won't hear you through the walls, and you aren't quite ready for that kind of intimacy yet. So, you settle for a bit of digital venting. With a flushed face, you type out a quick comment on the video: "God, I wish I could do this while he's working..."
You go to save the link to your "Filthy Things" folder for a proper session tomorrow morning, but just as your thumb hovers over the screen, your phone starts vibrating. Itâs Simone. Sheâs calling, probably to gossip about something trivial. In your rush to swipe the call and answer her, your finger taps the wrong folder.
And because Zayne is a man who is always, always connected to his devices for work... heâs going to see the notification the exact second it pops up.
It didn't take long. After that little "digital accident," the silence between you two wasn't awkward so much as it was heavy. Charged. He didn't even tease you about the comment. He didn't even blush. He just looked at you with those piercing eyes, a tiny, knowing quirk at the corner of his mouth, and silently commanded you to come to him.
And now, here you are. Perched on his lap, doing the same thing you saw on that video. Your lower half is completely bare, your thighs hugging his muscular one as you press yourself flush against him.
The friction is driving you completely insane.
Zayne, however, is a man of terrifying discipline.
His left hand is braced on your lower back, while his right hand moves across his keyboard. Heâs actually working. Heâs reviewing files, typing out notes, behaving as if you aren't currently trying to melt into his lap. Every so often, heâll pause, not to stop you, but to lean in. His breath, cool and smelling faintly of mint, brushes against the shell of your ear, sending a violent shiver down your spine.
"Ah... Zayne..." you whimper against his neck as you press yourself harder against him. The sound is loud, far too loud for his quiet office and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.
"Hush now," he doesn't even look away from the monitor, though you notice the slight tightening of his jaw. "I need to focus. These reports won't write themselves."
Heâs being difficult. Heâs being a tease. And you love him for it.
You try to be "good." You force yourself to still when he has to write something long on his computer. You sit there, trembling slightly, waiting for him to acknowledge the havoc you're wreaking on his concentration.
A moment passes. The only sound is the soft click clack of the keyboard. Then, you feel his hand slide from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction of an inch closer, a subtle command for you to keep going.
"Good girl," he whispers, the words a warm caress against your ear.
His expression is completely professional, but the way his fingers linger on your skin tells a completely different story. Heâs still working, yes but heâs also letting you feel exactly how much of a distraction you really are.
Every time your thighs tense up, every time you desperately bite your lower lip to stifle a moan that threatens to shatter the silence, the air thickens with indecency.
Heâs struggling. You aren't blind. You can feel the insistent twitch of his cock beneath you, reacting to every open mouthed kiss you press against the pulse of his neck, the sharp line of his collarbone, and the smooth expanse of his Adam's apple. Heâs trying to maintain that surgeonâs calm, but his body is betraying him with every shuddering breath you take.
Youâre right on the edge. Your clit is catching perfectly against the fabric of his pajamas, the material already damp and clinging to you from the amount of arousal you're leaking.
"Look at me."
His voice cuts through the air, forcing your gaze up. He wants to see the exact moment your eyes glaze over, the moment your breath hitches and tells the truth that your lips are trying so hard to hide.
When his hand slides up to cup your jaw, it isn't the gentle, comforting touch you're used to during a quiet movie on the couch. It's different. It's possessive. Itâs a disciplined kind of dominance, a reminder that while he is the composed Zayne in the daylight, there is a much darker man caged behind that professional composure and you are the only one who knows how to let him out.
"You are close, aren't you, love?" he whispers, his lips hovering so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath.
You can barely manage a nod, your lungs feeling too small for the air you're trying to pull in. You're breathing directly into his slightly parted mouth.
"Cum for me, then," he exhales, a rare flush creeping up his cheeks, betraying just how much this is affecting him too.
He shifts his thigh, bouncing it up and down in a rhythmic motion that catches your clit perfectly.
The world tilts. You feel your eyes lose focus and you can't tell if it's the shaking of your limbs or the pounding of your heart that's making you tremble so violently.
"Zaynie... Zayne..."
His name becomes your entire vocabulary, there are no words left, only the sound of his name on your lips and the crashing sensation of finally, finally letting go.
You are flicking through a never ending stream of mindless clips and memes. Itâs supposed to be a quiet afternoon, just a bit of scrolling to kill the time until Caleb comes back, but then there...
A VIDEO pops up. Itâs not your usual aesthetic travel vlog or a cooking hack.
You freeze, your heart doing a weird, little skip in your chest. You know you should probably swipe past it, but your eyes are glued to the screen. Itâs a girl, her lace panties completely drenched. The guy in the video isn't even taking them off, heâs just sliding the tip of his cock against her through the wet lace.
A sudden warmth blooms deep in your belly, spreading down until it feels like youâre melting into the cushions. God, youâve been craving that. The teasing, the slow, agonizing buildup. Youâve spent so much money on delicate, expensive little sets, thinking maybe Caleb would appreciate the way they look on you, but hes a fucking dog. He doesn't do "slow." He usually just rips them or tugs them off with impatience, going straight for the heat of you. You just want him to play with you like that. To linger.
Your inhibitions are a little frayed from the visual, and before your brain can catch up to your impulse, your thumbs are flying. You tap the comment section, the screen a mess of unhinged messages from strangers, and you add your own little confession: âI really need him to play with me like this, but he prefers to eat it raw from the startđ˘â
You hit send, a tiny, embarrassed flush creeping up your neck, and immediately swipe the video away, feeling a bit silly for being so vulnerable to a bunch of internet strangers.
You toss the phone onto the cushion next to you a second later, completely oblivious to one mortifying detail. Heâd logged into his account on your phone earlier when his own battery died, and you hadn't bothered to switch back.
In his office, the most dangerous man in Skyhaven is about to watch, in explicit detail, how you want to be ruined.
It turns out your assessment of him was spot on. The man is a fucking dog.
He hasn't taken your underwear off. Thatâs the part thatâs driving you absolutely insane. The delicate lace is currently soaked, clinging to your pussy like a second, translucent layer of skin. Heâs been working his tongue against the fabric, licks so long and heavy they feel like theyâre reaching deep inside you. Youâve already been hit by two earth shattering, toe curling orgasms, your vision blurring every time his mouth finds your clit through the damp cloth. He hasn't even slowed down. If anything, it's getting worse.
âThis is the reason I usually take off those pretty panties you wearâ he presses his face into you, his broad tongue sweeping up in one stroke against your entire slit. You let out a choked, broken sound, fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair, trying to push him away just to catch your breath.
âYour scent is so fucking addictive,â he groans against your skin, âEspecially after wearing them all day... knowing you've been walking around, smelling like this, just waiting for me.â
Then, he says something that makes your heart skip a beat not out of fear, but out of pure shock.
âYou have no idea, do you?â he pants, nose brushing against your clit. âLast two years of High School... I spent them stroking my cock raw just to the smell of your panties. Thinking about you. Wishing you were right there."
Your vision blurs. Your hips jerk upward involuntarily as a third wave of pleasure crashes over you. You cum hard, your entire body shaking as you spill yourself directly onto his tongue, voice breaking into a high, desperate sob of his name.
He doesn't pull away. He just drinks you in, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tastes exactly what he's been craving.
The moment your legs stop trembling he hooks his fingers into the soaked gusset and drags it to the side, baring your swollen folds and your pulsing clit, sensitive from his relentless attention.
He doesn't thrust in. He doesn't go for the full stretch youâve been silently praying for. Instead, he slides the drooling tip of his cock over your slit. He isn't even entering you yet, he's just... slapping it against your clit, teasing the very edge of your tolerance.
You wanted the lace, the play, the slow burn... but God, you also wanted him to fuck you until you couldn't remember your name. You wanted the stretch.
But Caleb is a man who listens. Or rather, he's a man who has spent a lifetime studying every detail of your desires and right now he is giving you exactly what you asked for.
He leans down, his eyes dark, watching the way your face contorts with pleasure and frustration. He doesn't give you the release of a full thrust, he just feeds you the tip. He slides just the head of his cock into your pussy, a teasing invasion that barely makes a dent.
The reaction is instantaneous. Your walls react to him like a living thing, clenching around him, desperately trying to suck him deeper, to pull the rest of him in. The sensation is so perfectly matched that a synchronized moan breaks from both of you.
He pulls out just a fraction and then he thrusts the tip back in. Over and over again.
âPlease,â you whimper, the word sounding pathetic even to your own ears. âBaby, please...â
Youâre trying to force him to go deeper. But heâs in total control. His left hand is working the length of his cock, pumping with a desperate rhythm, while his right hand finds your clit.
His eyes are pinned to yours, watching every flicker of emotion on your face as if heâs trying to memorize the way you fall apart.
And then, the teasing ends.
His mushroom tip, still nestled just inside your entrance, begins to pulse. Warm, thick spurts of cum hit your sensitive walls, flooding the tiny space heâs occupied.
Your pussy clenches around the tip of his cock, trying to suck every last drop out of him while his hand squeezes the rest of his length, forcing the remainder of his seed into you, filling you up until his cum starts to leak out.
He finally collapses against you, the weight of his body pressing you deep into the mattress.
"You're so loud when you're happy," he murmurs before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, then your cheek, before finally settling his lips against yours in a kiss that tastes of salt and everything you are to him.
He pulls back just a bit, his gaze dropping to where the soaked lace of your panties still clings to your thighs, then back up to your eyes. Thereâs a flicker of that obsessive intensity returning to his expression.
"There isn't a single thing in this world you could ask for that wouldn't make me crawl to you. So don't hold back, Pips."
When THEY accidentally send you (p)đ˝ link... (part 2)
When YOU accidentally send him a (p) đ˝ link....Here (part 1)
CW: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh fucking. Deep throating. Breeding kink. Masturbation. Praise kink. đ MDNI đ
There are about 20 open tabs on your phone and a half finished list of new plushies youâve been eyeing. Itâs a problem. Your collection is already getting a bit out of hand, but thereâs something about a new squishy companion that just makes the stress of your last mission melt away.
Youâre scrolling through your favorite site, debating between a pastel jellyfish or a round, grumpy cat, when your phone buzzes with a text from Xavier.
Xavier:Â Found something. Thought it might look good on your bed.
You tap the link eagerly, expecting a picture of some ridiculously soft, oversized penguin or maybe a weirdly cute dragon. Youâre already mentally carving out a space for it on your bed.
The link loads. You blink.
Then you blink again.
Your thumb freezes mid scroll. It is not a penguin. It is definitely not a dragon. It is an explicitVIDEO that makes your entire face turn red in approximately 0.5 seconds.
Just as the girl in the video lets out a soft moan, your phone vibrates again. This time, itâs a frantic succession of messages.
Xavier:Â Wait, did that go through?
Xavier:Â The link?
Xavier: Please tell me you didn't click that yet.
You look at the video one last time before quickly locking your phone and pressing the cool glass against your burning cheek.
He doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The look in his deep blue eyes is heavy, dark, and entirely unapologetic.
The transition from his accidental text to both of you completely naked in your bed happens in less than 10 minutes. Because youâve only been intimate for a few weeks, thereâs still this electric, terrifying novelty to it, the way your heart hammers against your ribs when his hands touch your skin.
Heâs behind you, his body acting as a warm, solid anchor. His skin is hot against yours, a seamless fit that feels like it was designed by the universe itself. But itâs what heâs doing, the agonizing patience of it that is pushing you toward the edge of madness.
He isn't fucking you. Not yet.
He's doing exactly what you saw on that video. Heâs sliding his cock between your thighs, the slick, heavy length of him dragging slowly against you. Every single time he thrusts, the tip of him catches the little hood of your clit before dragging the lenght of his cock across your most vulnerable spot with a precision that feels soooo good.
"Xavie..." you moan, your voice breaking, a plea you can't quite finish.
"Shh," his breath is hot, uneven, smelling faintly of mint. His lips brush the sensitive curve of your neck. "Just breathe, bunny. Let it build."
He pulls back, nearly losing contact entirely, only to slide forward again, with enough pressure to make your eyes roll back.
"I've been thinking about this," he whispers, his lips brushing your earlobe, sending a violent shiver down your spine. "For months"
You let out a choked sob, head falling back against his shoulder. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate, youâre close, aren't you?"
His voice vibrates against your skin and the smile you can feel against your pulse point is nothing short of predatory. He knows. Heâs always known exactly where you are, even when youâre too lost in the haze of pleasure to find the words.
You try to answer, but your voice is trapped somewhere in the back of your throat, drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat. You don't speak, and he thrives on that silence. To him, your quiet isn't an absence, itâs an admission. Itâs the honest, raw truth of a body that has been pushed past its limit and is now screaming for a release it can't quite grasp.
His hand slides down from your ribs to settle firmly on your waist. His grip is certain, unyielding and controlled anchoring you to the mattress so you canât squirm away.
He presses a kiss to your neck. Once. Slow. Then again, lower, his lips grazing the curve where your shoulder meets collarbone. The heat of it enough to make you arch backward, your spine curving into him, while the dirty intent of his touch makes you clench around the empty air.
"Ask me, bunny," you try to find your voice, but all that comes out is a breathless hitch in your lungs. Seeing your struggle, he doesn't let you off the hook. He reaches up, his fingers tangling in your hair to gently but firmly tilt your head back toward him. He never breaks the rhythm, he angles his hips with precision, pressing the length of his cock harder against your clit, forcing a loud moan from your lips directly into his mouth.
"Use your words," he insists, his eyes dark and hooded, watching the way your expression fractures.
The words tumble out of you, wrecked and desperate, "I want to cum, Xavie... please..."
His lips crash against yours, but the sweetness is gone. He kisses you like his patience has finally grown teeth, hungry and sharp. His hand moves to your thigh, pressing down firmly to maximizing the friction, ensuring every single nerve ending is on fire, making sure you feel every bit of what you asked for.
The world simply ceases to exist. You both break at the exact same moment. Youâre gasping, your hands instinctively flying to your own breasts, squeezing them as you chase the peak, your fingers digging into your skin for any extra stimulation you can find.
"There you are..." he whispers against your lips as he spills over your thighs, your cunt, and the damp sheets beneath you. He holds you there, pinning you to the moment, letting the aftershocks roll through you until your muscles begin to tremble into stillness.
When the world begins to drift back into focus, a languid warmth settling over your limbs, a realization begins to dawn on you. He didn't just give you an orgasm. He found a hidden part of you, the part that craves to be unraveled, the part that wants to be ruined slowly and meticulously and he taught it to answer to him, and him alone.
Bzzzz. Bzzzz
Caleb [14:22]:Â Found a recipe for a honey glazed salmon. Reminded me of that place we went to last week.
Youâre supposed to be working on a pile of halfway finished reports on your desk but heâs been rambling about dinner for the past hour.
Caleb [14:23]: Let's try it tonight. Let me know if it looks okay to you.â¤ď¸
A link follows.
You tap it, expecting a colorful food blog or maybe one of those YouTube tutorials with a soft acoustic soundtrack. Your brain practically short circuits.
A VIDEO loads instantly. Itâs not salmon. It's a girl, sprawled out on a bed, and thereâs a man, looming over her as he... well, he's fucking her face. The girl is looking straight up at him, eyes glazed and heavy lidded, completely lost in it. The sound of the video starts to play before you can find the volume button.
"Oh my god," you whisper, frantically trying to close the tab.
Was this a joke? Or maybe a very, very subtle hint? Did the great Colonel Caleb actually just fumble the most embarrassing mistake of his entire life?
Bzzzz
Caleb [14:26]:Â Pips. The link was wrong. Ignore that. It was supposed to be a cooking blog. Please delete it.
You could pretend you didn't see a single thing and let him stew in his own embarrassment all day. You could let him suffer.
But then again... he did say he wanted to try something new tonight.
You type out a quick reply, heart racing just a little bit.
âThe recipe looks good. Do you think we have all the ingredients?đ"
The dim light of the bedroom catches the violet of his eyes, making them look entirely too satisfied. Heâs hovering over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world, leaving you in a private universe where the only thing that exists is his weight and the heat of his cock.
His hands frame your face. "Look at me, baby,"
He guides himself to your lips and begins to slide in. He moves slowly, testing your limits, watching your eyes widen as you try to adjust.
"God, you look so good like this," he breathes, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "With your mouth so full of me..."
The praise makes your head swim and your throat tighten.
"I should have done this sooner... I should have stopped playing the gentleman and just taken what's mine."
His slow pace breaks, and he thrusts deeper, a sudden surge that hits the back of your throat. Your eyes water instantly, an involuntary gag catching in your chest when your body tries to protest the sudden fullness.
"Silly girl," he coos, not pulling back. He stays right there, buried deep "Don't fight it. Just breathe through your nose"
He waits until he sees your nostrils flare, until you take a shaky, shallow breath through your nose, eyes locking onto his.
The moment you manage it, the tension in his shoulders melt "Theeeere we go," he whispers, giving you one more deep, slow slide, making sure you feel every inch of him. "Such a fast learner. My perfect... fuck... perfect girl."
The need to see just how far you can push him takes over and instead of just taking him, you begin to draw him in, sucking your cheeks in slowly, creating tight pressure around him.
A groan rips from his throat and his hands, which were previously just guiding your head, suddenly dig into your hair, fingers knotting into the strands with a force that almost hurts.
"Fuck, Pips..." his head falls back for a split second before he snaps his gaze back to yours "I didnt teach you that..."
He loses the battle with his own restraint and his hips begin to move with punishing speed. Every time the tip of his cock hits the very back of your throat you can feel the involuntary reflex of your throat tightening and saliva begins to pool at the corners of your lips. Itâs messy but itâs exactly what he wants.
"Look at you," he pants, reaching down to catch a stray drop of saliva and smearing it across your chin "So messy for me. You're dripping all over yourself because you can't get enough. You want it all, don't you?."
Your lungs are screaming, your chest heaving in search for oxygen, but you donât care. The burning in your throat is nothing compared to the sight of him right now, his eyes blown wide, his jaw locked, his face twisted with a kind of agony and ecstasy that heâd never show anyone else.
Heâs on the edge. You can feel it in the way his thighs are trembling and he starts to pull away.
Your fingers dig into the hard, tensed muscles of his ass and with a sharp tug, you yank him back inside, slamming him against your face.
The sudden change in pressure snaps the last of his restraint. He doesn't fight you, he doesn't even try. He just collapses into the sensation, his entire body shuddering as he finally lets go.
You feel the first hot, thick burst of him erupt in the back of your throat, a sudden flood that makes you choke and gag, eyes watering.
"Fuck, I can't.. I... " he's shaking all over, his fingers bruising your scalp as he rides out the waves of release.
When he finally pulls away, he doesn't move far. He lingers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his eyes searching yours.
 "You really won't let me have anything for myself, will you? he whispers, his voice rough and ruined. "You just have to take it all."
Your workday has been a total slog. Between the endless briefings at the Association and the exhaustion of keeping up with Wanderers, your brain feels like itâs been through a blender. All you can think about is getting home, kicking off your boots, and maybe if youâre lucky getting a moment of peace.
Until your phone buzzes in your pocket.
You pull it out, expecting a tactical update or maybe a nagging message from your supervisor, but itâs a text from Rafayel.
Rafayel: "My darling, my muse, my precious bodyguard, don't you dare go home and sleep yetâ the text reads, followed by a string of dramatic, pouting emojis. âRemember I have an exhibition today! Itâs a secret location, very exclusive, very avant garde. You simply MUST come by after your shift. Itâs going to be breathtaking, just like you. Don't be late, or I might actually die of loneliness. Here is the location!" đ
LINK
You smile, a little warmth spreading through your chest despite the fatigue. Heâs so much, truly, but he has a way of making the mundane parts of your life feel colorful. You tap the link, expecting a Google Maps pin or a sleek digital invite to a high end gallery in Linkon City.
Instead, your screen loads a video.
You aren't looking at a gallery. You are looking at a naked woman perched on a chair, looking entirely too comfortable, while a man, in front of her, puts on a very intense performance. The camera zooms in just as he reaches the grand finale, a messy orgasm that ends up all over the woman's legs, stomach and breasts.
You stare at the screen. You stare at the ceiling. You stare at the wall.
Did he... did he just send you a porn link?
Your phone vibrates again. A second text. Then a third. A fourth.
Rafayel:Â âDid you see it? The lighting is so evocative, don't you think?â
Rafayel:Â âThe composition of the colors is quite striking.â
Rafayel:Â âWait. Why aren't you responding? Are you mesmerized by the art? It's okay, take your time, it's quite a lot to take in"
Then, a final text arrives, and the tone shifts instantly from "pretentious artist" to "absolute disaster."
Rafayel:"Don't look at it! Close it! Close the tab! Throw the phone into the ocean! Forget everything you saw! It was a glitch! A spacetime anomaly! A Wanderer attack on my phone! "
You canât help it. A snort escapes you, followed by a full blown fit of giggles that makes your coworkers glance over in confusion. You quickly type back a single, teasing reply.
You:Â âThe lighting was lovely, Rafayel. Very... evocative.â
The "typing..." bubble appears immediately. It stays there for an agonizingly long time.
Rafayel:Â âI am literally dying. Bury me in the sand. Don't you dare come to the exhibition. Actually, come. But don't look at me. I'm never leaving my studio again.â
The exhibition was a triumph, of course. Rafayel was the star, basking in the praise of the elite, playing the part of the brilliant artist to perfection.
But now, the doors are locked, the lights are dimmed to a soft, amber glow and you aren't looking at his paintings anymore. Youâre the centerpiece of a much more private gallery.
Youâre perched on the edge of chair, your wrists pulled taut behind your back. Heâd used a length of fine, crimson silk to bind them, tight enough to force your shoulders back and arch your spine, thrusting your chest forward, the cool air of the studio grazing your skin, making your nipples harden.
His hand is wrapped around himself, moving with a slow rhythm "You're staring, cutie," a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth "Is the view to your liking?"
You nod, looking up at him, licking your lips.
He lets out a shaky breath, his knuckles white as he grips himself. "Iâve spent my whole life trying to capture beauty on a flat surface. Trying to trap light and shadow and emotion in pigment and oil. But it's never enough. Itâs always... static. It doesn't breathe. It doesn't react."
He moves closer, the heat from his body finally making contact with your open thighs. His gaze drops to your breasts, tracing the curve heâs forced you to present to him.
"But you..." He swallows hard, a low groan escaping his lips as he watches the way your chest heaves with every breath. "You are the only masterpiece that matters. I want to treat your skin like my finest silk and use your naked body as my own living canvas..."
He looks almost pained by need, his eyes wide and dark with a hunger that goes far beyond simple lust. Heâs not just looking at a lover, heâs looking at his salvation.
"Every blush on your cheeks, every shiver that runs down your spine... that's the only art worth making."
His free hand moves to one of your breasts, thumb sweeping over your nipple with a pressure that is both worshipful and demanding. He watches the way your eyes flutter shut, memorizing the exact shade of your arousal.
"God, you're so beautiful it hurts," he whispers "Tell me you want it," the hand around his cock moves faster "Tell me you'll let me finish my work."
You don't make him wait. You lean forward as much as the silk allows, your voice a breathless rasp. "Fiinish it, Raf. Show me what you can do."
You canât look away. You wouldn't even if you could.
A bead of translucent precum swells at the very tip of his cock, glistening like a misplaced jewel under the lights. The skin there is flushed a deep, angry rose, pulsing with the force of his arousal. His head is thrown back, his throat exposed and taut as he bites his lower lip to stifle the needy whimpers that threaten to spill from his lips.
He looks beautiful.
Heâs close, so painfully close to the edge that you decide to push him.Â
Even with your arms bound, you find a way to arch your back further, thrusting your chest toward him in an unspoken invitation. You offer yourself to him, presenting your bare skin as a landing site for his release. "Give it to me. All of it."
The sound of your voice, the invitation in your tone, is the final blow to his crumbling resolve. His body jolts with the force of his release and you watch as the heavy, hot ropes of him arc through the air, splattering across the expanse of your breasts. The heat of it is startling, a wet warmth that makes your skin tingle.
The moment the tension snaps, the strength drains right out of his legs. There is no grace in it just the heavy, unceremonious thud of his knees hitting the floorboards right between your thighs.
He stays there, head bowed, hair falling over his eyes in a dark, damp mess. But then, slowly, so slowly, he lifts his gaze.
His eyes, blown wide and shimmering with liquid heat, find yours at the exact same moment your tongue sweeps out to lick a drop of cum from the corner of your mouth.
When your eyes finally lock, you see the exact second his breath hitches again.
His pupils are so dilated they almost swallow the color of his irises, and a fresh wave of heat, a visible crimson surges up his neck and into his cheeks. He stares at your mouth, watching the way your tongue retreats, his gaze tracing the wet glisten you left behind.
"God..." he groans, the word a broken fragment of a thought "You're going to ruin me completely."
The vibration of your phone against the marble countertop is enough to make you jump. Youâve been nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee for the last twenty minutes, trying to shake off the lingering chill of the Linkon City winter, when the screen lights up with his name.
Sylus
[Sylus]:Â Thereâs a private auction tonight. High stakes. It starts in an hour. Iâve been tracking that specific protocore for weeks.
[Sylus] :Â Iâll send you the catalog link. Take a look. Tell me if the energy readings look as tempting to you as they do to me.
You tap the blue hyperlink, ready to nerd out a little and give him the professional opinion he wants from you.
The video player loads, and you nearly drop your phone.
It isn't a protocore.
It's a VIDEO of a man sprawled across rumpled sheets, his chest heaving as a woman jerks him off. She isn't looking at a camera, sheâs looking at him.
The sounds hits you next, the wet friction of her hand, the groans the man lets out, overstimulated.
You bite your lip, a nervous, hysterical little laugh bubbling up in your throat. You can almost see his expression if he knew, that slight, elegant tilt of his head, the way heâd probably pinch the bridge of his nose in a rare moment of genuine embarrassment.
With trembling fingers, you start to type a reply.
You:Â Sylus... unless this protocore is incredibly well endowed and prone to making loud noises, I think you sent the wrong link.
The silence that follows is agonizing. You stare at the "read" receipt, your thumb hovering over the screen, half expecting the phone to burst into flames from the tension. Youâve spent months navigating his moods, his riddles, and his terrifyingly intense presence, but youâve never quite known how to handle a moment where the power dynamic shifts so abruptly.
The little bubbles appear. Heâs typing.
Is he going to ignore it? Is he going to double down with some devastatingly smooth line that will make you want to crawl under the rug?
A moment later, the notification pings.
Sylus:It seems my finger slipped. Or perhaps my subconscious is simply being more honest than my conscious mind intended.
A few seconds later, another message follows, one that feels much more like the man who watches you sleep with predatory tenderness.
Sylus: I'll be at your door in twenty minutes. Let's not bother with the protocore I think we've found something much more interesting to bid on.
Youâve been at this for thirty minutes and your already obsessed.
There is something intoxicating about the power you hold right now. You never realized that teasing a man like Sylus could be this much of a rush. His entire frame shudders, his muscles coiling like a spring about to snap. Heâs right on the edge, his breath hitching and just when you think heâs about to break, you pull away.
Your leg is hooked firmly over one of his heavy thighs, a grounding weight that keeps his legs spread wide for you, exposing him completely to your whims. Heâs using his Evol to wrap around his own wrists, binding his hands so he canât reach out and grab you. Heâs forcing himself to endure the torture youâre inflicting, all because he wants this. He wants to feel every second of the ache.
He also looks wrecked. Itâs a sight you don't get to see often. Fine beads of sweat are beginning to glisten along his hairline and his eye is glowing a dangerous crimson, tracking your every move.
You lean forward, your hair brushing against his stomach, and as your mouth latches onto one of his nipples he throws his head back against the pillows, his entire body vibrating with the force of his loud groan.
You lift your hand, slowly, dragging your tongue across your entire palm in a long lick just to make him watch, just to make him feel the anticipation. Then, you slide your hand down, finally wrapping your fingers around his cock again.
His eyes roll back into his head when you return your mouth to his nipple, sucking with punishing pressure.
âPlease... fuck... Please, kitten. Put me out of my misery.
You feel him tense again, his muscles turning to granite beneath your touch. You stop again.
The sudden absence of your warmth makes him let out a frustrated sound, but you aren't done playing yet. Instead of a full stroke, you just use your five fingers to tease the very tip of him, dragging your fingertips over the sensitive head, over and over again.
âYouâve been so good, Sy,â you coo, your voice a honeyed purr against his skin. âDo you think you deserve to cum?â
âPlease, sweetie,â he chokes out. You can see his knuckles turning white as his fingernails dig deep into the palms of his hands âIâve been... so good...â
Heâs lost. The great Sylus, the man who sees everyone's deepest desires, is currently a slave to his own. He probably doesn't even realize he's begging.
"Should I keep you like this all night?" you ask, watching his eyes widen, pupils blown so large they swallow the iris. "It's what you wanted, after all, wasn't it?"
He opens his mouth, the words of a fresh plea already forming on his lips, but you don't give him the chance to speak. Your hand suddenly drops, gripping the thick base of his cock with a firm hold, and you begin to stroke him fast, hard, and relentless.
âI wonât, though,â you whisper, leaning in close so your breath fans over his ear, your voice dripping with a playful, dominant heat. âBecause you've been such a good boy.â
The moment the praise leaves your lips, something in him snaps, his entire body arching off the bed in a violent, beautiful spasm.
Even when his muscles quiver with the aftershocks, you keep your hand moving, stroking him to overstimulation, pushing him right past the edge of pleasure.
The energy bindings that were holding his wrists apart simply vanish, dissolving into thin air when his willpower finally snaps.
The air is knocked from your lungs as your back hits the mattress with a soft thud, and suddenly, the man who was just begging is the man who is commanding.
Heâs over you, his large hands pinning your wrists to the pillows on either side of your head.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" his nose brushes against yours, his breath smelling faintly of the cherry wine he loves so much. "Playing with me like a toy. Testing how much a man can take before he loses his mind."
His heavy, still sensitive cock slides between your thighs, a blunt reminder of exactly how much you just put him through. He looks absolutely lethal.
"You've had your fun, kitten," he murmurs, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to let you know he's in total control now. "Now its my turn to see just how much you can take."
Zayne had been obsessing over that new bakery just a few blocks from your place, the kind of place that smells like heaven and costs way too much. He was mid text, rambling about the sourdough starter and the specific crumb structure of their croissants (of course he was), but he mentioned heâd send over the full menu link so you could decide on a weekend treat.
"Wait, let me send the link. They have a seasonal pastry list you'll love"
LINK
You tapped the blue link eagerly, expecting pictures of glazed danishes or maybe a list of gluten free muffins.
It was not a muffin.
It was a very loud, very explicit video of a man wrecking a woman with backshots, pulling out only for her to rip the condom off his cock so he could fuck her raw.
You: Zayne, there are no pastries in that link! There is only... a man. And a girl. And a very missing condom!
Zayne:Â ...
Zayne:Â Oh.
You:Â âOhâ? Thatâs all? You just sent me a full blown porn video in the middle of the afternoon!
Zayne:Â Stop. Please. I am currently in the middle of a ward round. A nurse just tried to look at my phone.
You:Â [Sends a laughing emoji]
Zayne:Â I'm coming over later. We are going to that bakery. And we are not talking about that "menu" until we have had at least two espressos. To settle my nerves.
You:Â Are you bringing the condom? Just kidding! Don't kill me!
The bakery was a lost cause. The sourdough was forgotten, the espresso was unbrewed, and the only thing "rising" in your apartment was Zayne's cock the moment he walked in and saw the way you were looking at him, flushed, eyes hazy, and, quite frankly, a mess.
Now, you were bent over the edge of your bed, your fingers digging into the mattress as he held you from behind.
"Zaynie, please!" you whimpered, your voice cracking. You were desperate, begging him to just stop being so careful, to just let go and give you what that video had promised. "Just... Take it off, Please!"
His hands gripped your hips with a strength that promised bruises. "Just because youâre on the pill doesn't mean the statistical probability of a mishap is zero. Itâs... fuck... it's about risk management."
"Even in a committed relationship," he continued, his words punctuated by the rhythmic, wet slap of skin on skin, "one must account for... ah, god... hormonal fluctuations and the ... the unpredictability of the human reproductive system. It's not just about pregnancy, it's about...shit...it's about hygiene, and the prevention of... of unnecessary... fuck, you feel so good."
He was losing it. The doctor was losing the battle against the man. He was supposed to be lecturing you on biological safeguards, but the way he was cursing under his breath low, dirty words that heâd never say in the hospital halls told a different story.
"You're being... so difficult," he groaned, his fingers moving to your waist, pulling you back harder against him. "Trying to... to bypass all the... damn it... the precautions. Do you have any idea what you're doing to my concentration?."
He leaned forward, his teeth grazing the nape of your neck, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper. "Stay still. Let me... let me take care of this properly. Fuck, if you keep making those sounds, the condom is going to be the least of our worries."
"Who cares about the... the statistics, Zayne!" you gasped, your forehead pressed against the cool sheets. "Just... fuck, just give it to me! Itâs just us, isn't it?
You were rambling, throwing out half baked excuses about how you will feel "more connected" or how the latex was a "distracting from the sensory input" basically using his own medical vocabulary against him just to get what you wanted. You were cursing, too, your language losing all its usual politeness as the friction and the heat drove you toward a breaking point.
Then, suddenly, the fullness vanished.
"Why did you stop?" you demanded, your voice small and wounded, eyes searching his. "Zayne, why did you... "
He was hovering over you, his chest heaving, his hair mussed in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic of the composed man you knew. He looked down at you with an expression that was almost exasperated, that specific, "are you actually serious right now?" look he gave you when you forgot your keys or ignored his health advice.
He didn't need to say the words. You lunged for it, your fingers trembling as you gripped him, ripping the condom off.
The moment he slid back into you, skin on skin, the sensation was nothing short of transcendental.
"Â Fuck!" you breathed out.
"God, finally," he growled back.
The sight of your cunt clinging to his cock was enough to shatter even the most disciplined mind. Zayne, the man who could maintain a steady hand while repairing a human heart, lost his grip on reality. The friction, the warmth, and the intimacy of being inside you without any barrier sent him over the edge far faster than he ever thought possible.
He stiffened and with a few deep thrusts that felt like they were reaching your throat he broke. A sound between a moan and a curse escaped him as he collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your neck.
When he pulled out Zayne wasn't looking at your face. He was staring, almost hypnotically, downward. His gaze was fixed on the junction of your thighs, watching with a quiet, intense fascination as the evidence of his release, thick and pearly, slowly leaked from your plump pussy, tracing a slow path down your skin. He looked mesmerized.
"You know," you said, voice dripping with playful sarcasm, "for a man so obsessed with 'risk management' and 'preventative measures'..." You paused looking at his flushed face. "Your breeding kink is really showing, Doctor."
loser!rafayel who obviously eyed you up and down whenever you walked down the hall.
loser!rafayel who is scared of rejection, chooses to just watch you from afar.
loser!rafayel who practiced drawing anatomy by drawing you and your perfect body.
loser!rafayel who keeps a collection of your photos in his albums and also printed it out to stick it on his wall! (he said it gives him motivation!)
loser!rafayel who is actually crazy for you.
loser!rafayel who follows you home to make sure you arrived home safely. He isnât a stalker. He just wanna make sure youâre safe.
loser!rafayel who finally downloaded dating app and was so surprised to actually match with his cutie.
loser!rafayel who jerks off to your cute texts. How dare you sent him a cute selfie and update him with your little life. Like he doesnât know already.
loser!rafayel who cums to your cute and innocent selfies. He loves your wide doe eyes and cute little smile.
loser!rafayel that finally could get close to you gifted you with a cat plushie. He knows how much you love cats. He even installed a camera and a microphone in its eyes so he could finally know your routine. <3
loser!rafayel who watched you through the camera while his hands are desperately stroking his hard and aching cock, seeing his cutie humping a small pillow while moaning cutely. He was sure he heard you moaning âRafayelâ too.
âąâ ââ about: Rafayel agreed to smuggle you into the N109 Zone, unwittingly thrusting you into danger and the arms of an even more dangerous man, Sylusâ who you promised your soul to long ago. Just as you had promised Rafayel your heart. And now they both want what you have so cruelly denied them.
âąâ ââ word count: 10.6k
âąâ ââ warnings: mdni, smut, threesome, pwp, enemies to lovers, jealousy, bondage, exhibisionism, voyeurism, size kink (sylus is big), mating bites/bond, double penetration, minor breeding kink, another horribly nasty duo
art credit to @/sakimenz on x, dividers by @cafekitsune
Itâs been six days, fourteen hours, and three minutes since youâve last contacted Rafayel.Â
Not that heâs been counting.
Again, he flips his phone around, scrolling through dozens of notifications, and not bothering to read a single one as he fails yet again to find your name among them. A scowl, and he tosses his phone across the couch. Insane doesnât begin to describe the spiral Rafayel has descended into since you infiltrated the N109 Zoneâ since he reluctantly agreed to set you up as bait and watched you get taken away.Â
Since he made a deal with the devil on your behalf.Â
âThe Nest, you actually got it? How?âÂ
âYou doubted me, cutie?â
âDoubt?â You snort, rolling your eyes as you yank Rafayel closer by the collar, gaze flickering from his lips, eyes, and back again. Leaning in closer, you wait until Rafayelâs eyes nearly flutter shut before pulling back, snatching the invitation from his hands with a smirk. âNever, fishie.â
Rafayel now wishes you had. Wishes he finally kissed you, wishes he never let you go. At least, not alone.Â
The memories and regrets tug at him so violently that he canât stand it, every âwhat ifâ fear blending in with shattered memories of you dying before him in lives past, bloody and heart torn from your chest as heâs doomed to chase after you again and again and again.Â
Rafayel stands abruptly, chair falling back with a bang.Â
Fuck it, heâs going after you.Â
The damned N109 Zone never changes.Â
Different venues, different gang names, different âworld-endingâ weapons. But even after several millennia, the greed and stupidity of humankind remains forever stagnant and forever their greatest weakness. That, and the nauseating smell of gunpowder and whiskey.Â
It all makes Rafayelâs stomach roll, and he thumbs at his tie, slacking against his neck before he snatches a glass of champagne from a waiter. Unsurprisingly he does recognize a handful of faces, some from his own gallery exhibitions, others as past targets, or grandchildren of someone he used to know. Not that any of them mattered.
He walked down a hallway filled with Protocores leading up to the banquet hall, and yet strangely enough every last one was bought for an exorbitant amount, even the smallest fragment that barely emitted any kind of energy. What kind of idiotâŚ
Rafayelâs frown deepens, and he shoots down yet another glass, moving from champagne to whiskey as he winces from the burn.Â
Then, Rafayel spots you.
Youâre alive.Â
Youâve alive and you look absolutely fucking gorgeous, prowling across the auction in a cocktail dress, fabric dark enough that it only shimmers a deep red when you dance from spotlight to spotlight.Â
Before he even realizes it, heâs running. Trying and failing for it to look as natural as possible, slamming into a waiter and mumbling out an apology as he rushes to your side, nearly dashing onto the dance floor when the shadows seem to lungeâ growing and shifting and laughing in an ancient language Rafayel can barely understand as something else steps out from them. And wraps a clawed hand around your waist.
Another man, infuriatingly tall and reeking of the sky and ashes, his hair bleached the same pale color, leans down to whisper something into your ear as you laugh. Laugh.Â
And gods new and old, Rafayel sees red.Â
Rafayelâs breath catches, chest tightening with a fury so raw it feels like it might crack him open. The din of laughter and clinking glasses becomes a dull roar in his ears, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. He barely registers the heat raging down his veins, a warning that his restraint is fraying faster than he can piece it together.
An uproar of murmuring steals your attention away from Sylus, and you finally allow your fake smile to drop.
Only for your jaw to fall entirely as you see Rafayel standing only a couple of meters away, violent white flames licking against his fingertips as other guests begin to gather.Â
What the fuck is he doing here.Â
âRafayel.â Your voice cuts through him, hissing in warning. But the sound of itâ alive, steady, and wholly unimpressedâ does nothing to soothe him. If anything, it stokes the fire.
Sylus turns slowly, his lips curling into a lazy smile. When his eyes land on Rafayel, something flickers in the depths of his right pupil. âOh?â he drawls, voice dripping with amusement, âLooks like you picked up a stray, kitten.â
The nickname grates against your nerves, but itâs nothing compared to the way Rafayel reacts. His flames flare brighter, casting eerie shadows across the room as his fists clench. âTake your hand off her.âÂ
More patrons are beginning to notice.Â
Sylusâs grip on your waist doesnât waver. Instead, he tilts his head, âHer? Oh, you must mean my companion for tonight.â He shifts slightly, leaning down as if to make a point, his hands brushing against the small of your back, right where the silk meets bare skin. âI think you have it mistaken though, sheâs the one who practically dragged me here. Isnât that right, sweetie?â
Your pulse spikes, a mix of anger and frustration coursing through you. You force yourself to step between them, planting a hand firmly against Rafayelâs chest before he can close the distance. Thankfully, it makes the flames sputter down to a dull glow in his palms.Â
âStop,â you hiss. âWhat the hell are you doing here, Rafayel?â
His eyes lock onto yours, wild and burning with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. âI came for you,â he snaps as if itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
âWell, congratulations,â you snort, âyou found me.â Glancing over your shoulder, you catch the glint of recognition in the eyes of more than a few guests. âAnd so has everyone else Iâve been trying to avoid.â
Rafayel doesnât flinch, his gaze darting briefly to Sylus before returning to you. âI donât care about them,â he mutters, brows furrowing. âI care about you. I never should have left you, let you go. Come back with me.â
Before you can even respond a deep chuckle cuts through, Sylus stepping forward as he tucks you into his side and reaches around to place a hand on Rafayelâs shoulder. Pinning you between them. âTouching. But you should know better than to interrupt our business, artist.â
Rafayelâs flames reignite instantly, searing white-hot as he shoves Sylusâs hand off his shoulder. âI already told you to get your hands off her,â he growls, stepping forward, entire body radiating heat as heâs mere inches from Sylusâs face.
âOr what?â Sylus taunts smoothly, something in his eye flashing with amusement. âYouâll set this whole place on fire? Very subtle. I can see why youâre such a popular target.â
Target? You linger on it longer than you should've, pieces about Rafayelâs surprising knowledge about the N109 Zone and Sylusâs insistence on resonating as your partner begins to swirl around again. That is, until you physically feel the heat from Rafayelâs flames begin to char into the wooden floorboards.Â
âStop it, both of you!â
Snapping, both of their heads whip down to you as you struggle to shove them apart. âYouâre drawing attention. Do you want to blow this mission completely?â
âMission?â Rafayel scoffs, his gaze snapping back to you. âIf this was a mission, why would you agree to work with him?â He tilts his chin to Sylus, who simply shrugs, shadows flickering and rising at his back. Shit.Â
âHer choice, really,â Sylus says, voice dripping with false sincerity. âNot that I blame her. All bark and no bite, arenât you, puppy?â
Rafayel goes deathly still.
So Sylus allows himself to step closer, chest now pressing up against your bare back, the gesture irritatingly casual. Intimate. âIt must be exhausting,â he continues, âRunning around, chasing after scraps of attention. Does she even notice? Or is this just another case of unrequited devotion?â
âSay that again,â Rafayel growls, flames licking up his palm.
Sylus grins wider, clearly enjoying every second. Enjoying his reactions. âOh, Iâm sorry, did that strike a nerve? You must be used to following orders by now, so tell me, does she ever let you off leash, or do you only bark when commanded?â
âSylus,â you snap again, cutting off whatever retort Rafayel has ready. You glance around, realizing the murmuring crowd has turned into a full-fledged audience, their gazes sharp and curious. âYouâre both acting like children. The targetââ
The sound of shattering glass cuts you off.
You whip your head around, just in time to see a hooded figure perched atop an overturned table. A small, cylindrical case glints in their hand, and your blood turns cold as you feel the overwhelming pulse of an unleashed Aether Core.Â
âRun!â
The word barely leaves your mouth before the world explodes.
A deafening boom shatters through the venue, blast wave throwing you backward. The force knocks the air from your lungs, glass and debris raining down like jagged confetti. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting through your side as the heat of the explosion sears your skin.
Through the haze of smoke and ringing in your ears, you catch fragmented images: chandeliers crashing to the floor, tables splintered, and guests scrambling for cover and weapons as gunshots ring out.
Sylus is a blur of movement, his shadows coiling and slashing through the chaos. Rafayel is kneeling beside you, flames erupting instinctively to shield both of you, looking down with wide eyes.
âGetââ you try to shout, but another powerful wave of the protocore squeezes your heart, and your vision blurs as you heave for breath.
The last thing you see is Sylus stepping over Rafayelâs crumpled form, hauling him over one shoulder before beginning to carry you, too.
Then, nothing.
Itâs cold.Â
The explosion. The Aether Core. Sylus. Rafayel.
A gasp tears from your lips as you jolt awake, your body reacting before your mind catches up. The world spins in protest as you try and sit up, chest heaving like itâs trying to claw back air thatâs been ripped away. Spinning, the world is still spinning as control of your body returns to youâpain prickles along your limbs, your skin freezing against the stiff leather beneath you.
Blinking hard, you push up on trembling arms, the faint scent of dust and something metallic clogging your nose. The ache in your skull is relentless, pulse hammering against your temples. Youâre not in the banquet hall anymore. Thereâs no fire, no rubble, no echoing gunshots.Â
Instead, shadows claw at the corners of a room you donât recognize. Empty walls of an office greet you, dark and seemingly abandoned with an unlit fireplace, heavy drapes smothering the windows, and a lavish seating area youâre in the midst of with a couch, coffee table, andâ
Someoneâs there.
Slumped in a leather chair near the fireplace, head tilted at an unnatural angle, is⌠âRafayel.â
You call out to him in a gasp, a raw mix of relief and dread. His head hangs low, chin brushing his chest, his arms seemingly tied behind his back. For one desperate, fleeting moment, you think heâs asleep. But the light catches on something wrong, something warping along his body.Â
Shadows.
They slither down his chest and around his legs, dark, writhing tendrils of unnatural energy that pulse and coil, anchoring him to the chair. Theyâre the only thing keeping his unconscious form upright, taut and unyielding, glowing faintly at the edges with an unmistakably familiar red glow.Â
âRelax, heâs not dead.â
The voice is a smooth drawl, and your head whips around to find a heavy desk in the center of the office, and of course, the origin of the voice seated at the head of the desk, arms crossed as he watches you with an amused smirk.
âWhat did you do, Sylus?â
Your hands instinctively go for your guns but only brush against empty holsters instead. Weaponless, you stumble off the couch, placing yourself between Rafayel and the still-seated man as you glare down at him.Â
Sylus doesnât even flinch. If anything, your anger only seems to amuse him further.Â
âWe had a chat while you were sleeping.â With a sigh, he rises from his chair, every movement exuding practiced ease as he encircles the desk, making his way to you. A crow circling a corpse. âTurns out youâve been keeping more from me than I thought. That, and your memory truly is terrible.â
Sylus stops just short of you, tilting his head back as his eyes roam your face, his grin growing sharper, fang peaking out. âNot one but two immortals? You certainly are greedy, arenât you, kitten?â
Your stomach twists.Â
Nothing heâs saying makes sense, but the words cut into your gut regardless. Like a broken promise, like an old wound. âLet him go, Sylus. Now.â
But Sylus doesnât move. He stands there, tapping a hand to his chin, studying you with a look that makes your heart throb, his right eye beginning to glow a crimson red. Amusement flickers behind his eyes, but thereâs something else, too. Something darker.
âTwice,â he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his gaze slipping briefly to Rafayelâs bound form. âTwice, youâve cursed those who thought themselves unstoppable. Twice, youâve bound your heart and soul.â His eyes snap back to yours, glinting with a sharp, cruel edge. âNot that youâd remember.â
Almost like heâs in pain. You stiffen, breath catching in your throat.
âHumans,â Sylus continues, the word dripping with scorn. âSo quick to lay claim to what they desire, so insatiably greedy.â He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, heavy with mockery, hands ghosting down your side as you shiver despite yourself. âAnd you, sweetie, are no different.â
âI have no idea what youâre talking about.â
A chuckle, âOf course you donât.â
Sylus fights the urge to laugh. No wonder the god of the ocean itself followed you around like a lovesick puppyâ Sylus was hardly taking it any better, but at least he just had the self-control to hide his obsession.
A strained groan echoes through the room, low and guttural. Your head snaps toward Rafayel, the sight of his head lifting weakly making your heart lurch. His hair is matted with sweat, and when he looks up, his sunset eyes are furious blue, darker than the ocean itself, narrowing to slits as the shadows twist tighter around his body.Â
Thereâs a moment, just a heartbeat, where you see something raw in his gaze. Relief. Desperation. And then, itâs gone, replaced by a scowl thatâs as sharp as any blade.
âWell, look whoâs awake,â Sylus hums, and you nearly collapse in relief, turning to rush to Rafayelâs side when something stops you halfway.Â
Two simple threads of shadow chain you down, dragging you back to Sylus as the other binds your hands behind you, unaffected by your sudden thrashing. In faux comfort, Sylus curls an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace as the other rests against your ribs, drawing comforting circles against your tattered dressâthe once pristine silk only just gifted to you destroyed with gashes and holes from the explosion and chaos that followed.
Rafayelâs lip curls, his voice a growl despite the rasp of exhaustion. âShouldâve known a snake would take a deal and twist it. This is your plan? This is what you call a friendly competition?âÂ
Sylus tilts his head, his smirk turning predatory. âCareful, puppy. Youâll get your turn, I never specified who went first.â
Silence.Â
You feel like youâre playing catch-up, each word only adding to the confusion as the tension grows thick enough to choke on.
And then Rafayel laughs. His entire body shakes with it, head thrown back against the chair heâs still bound to, laughing and laughing until heâs all but spitting flames. They erupt from his palms, climbing down the marble floors, vibrant pinks and reds curling into empty air as shadows dance to put them out.Â
Sylus doesnât release you, though his fingers twitch against your ribs as the flames light up the room. His smirk falters just slightly, replaced by something harder to readâa flicker of recognition, perhaps, or respect.
Rafayelâs laughter fades, his head rolling forward again as if it took everything in him to laugh at all. When his eyes meet Sylusâs, theyâre cold and dark, an abyss in the ocean.
âYou really think this will win her back?â Rafayel spits, tremors of barely-contained fury ripping through him as he struggles against the tendrils that hold him. The shadows only tighten in response. His glare cuts to you, begging. âDonât listen to him. Heâs a liar, a snake. All those ugly cold-blooded beasts do is lie.â
Sylus snorts, hugging you closer as the low scoop back of your dress causes your skin to brush against his chest. âLie? Are you always this dramatic?â He tilts his head, mocking. âPerhaps you shouldâve asked about the rules before we began. Backing out already?â
Flames spark from Rafayelâs body again, this time uncontrolled, swirling in frantic spirals like an inferno around him. His body trembling against the leather. âRelease me then! Let me go first, let me show you she doesnât need you. Sheâll remember me.â
âYouâre awfully bold for someone tied to a chair.âÂ
Sylus leans down to graze your neck with his lips, tilting his head like heâs savoring the sight of Rafayelâs frustration as he whispers into your ear just loud enough for him to hear. âYour puppy never stops barking, does he.â
Rafayel takes the bait, fire searing through wood, flickering in and out. âSheâs not yours to take,â he seethes, shadows and flames casting violent shadows across the room. âNot yours.â
This is beyond ridiculous.Â
You try and jerk away from Sylus, forgetting about the shadowy tendrils also holding you in place. Instead, you settle for pushing Sylus back with your bound arms, glaring at the both of them bickering like feral cats once again. âBoth of you, stop! Whatever grudge you have with each other, leave me out of it!â
Sylus chuckles, the sound low and unnerving. âLeave you out of it? Oh, kitten, youâve always been at the very center. You just don't remember yet.â His hand slips from your ribs to lift your chin, tilting your face toward his as he gazes down at you with something almost⌠reverent. âBut donât worry, weâll help you remember everything.â
His words send a pang through you, a strange and unbidden ache that threatens to consume you from the inside out. Youâre left suspended between them, chest heaving, mind a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. And yet, somewhere deep inside, you can feel itâan echo of something ancient and unshakable, something you donât understand. Something they both seem to know.
That alone seems to calm Rafayel, at least, for long enough that Sylus can bind his hands together, unable to conjure any more flames before gagging him with a veil of shadows too. Something that immediately sends the man into a frenzy as he curses and squirms against the restraints.Â
âWhat areâ Sylus, release him right nowââ
âRelax.â
Youâre also being hoisted higher up into the air, feet barely touching the floor as your arms strain above your head. âHeâs simply upholding his part of the deal. Besides, heâs not the one who deserves to be punished tonight. That, sweetie, would be you.â
But before you can rebuke, a huff of hot breath caresses your neck, Sylus humming against your ear as you shiver involuntarily. âYou canât blame me. After all, youâre quite cruel to curse both of us and then go about forgetting entirely.âÂ
Sylus drags his hand down your ribs, thumb catching a rip in your dress as he tears it all the way down until his fingers reach the bare plush of your thigh. His grip tightens, and your sudden moan startles you nearly as much as it does the other two, shaking and needy at barely a touch, your body pulled upwards by Sylusâs shadows as youâre now balanced precariously between his hold and the brush of your toes against the floor.Â
âTell me, does it hurt? That part of you that used to belong to us?â
The sensation is so foreign, the warmth and gentleness of his touch such a contrast to the cruelty he's displayed, but your traitorous body welcomes the contrast, leaning into his palm. âWhat are you talking about?â Your voice is shaky, unconvincing even to yourself. âI donâtââ
âOh, you donât remember,â Sylus cuts in, mockery dripping from his words. âBut your body does. Thatâs the funny thing about bonds, darling. They donât care about your memories. They care about promises. The ones you made. The ones you broke.â
You can feel the heat of Rafayel's gaze on you, watching as Sylus slowly runs his hand up your leg, the heat of his touch deliciously contrasted by the cool iron of his rings, making you shudder as they circle the tender flesh of your inner thigh. You fall forward, pulling against the restraints, unable to resist the urge to push into his touch.
Behind you, Rafayel lets out a muffled roar, thrashing against his binds. His fury burns through the room, flames licking at the air around him, casting wild, flickering light that illuminates the shadows writhing against his skin. Even gagged, his expression a storm of conflict, boring into Sylus with a fire that refuses to be smothered.
âSee how desperate he gets?â Sylus laughs, his breath hot against your ear. âAlways so loud, so needy. So quick to burn himself, like thatâll make you notice him more.â
Rafayelâs muffled snarl grows louder, and the flames around him surge, threatening to overwhelm the shadows keeping him bound. He jerks forward, the chair groaning under his strength, his entire body trembling with the effort.
Sylus smirks, unbothered, even amused. âCareful, puppy. Else I might think youâre trying to cheat.â
You wrench yourself away from Sylusâs grip as much as the shadows will allow, suddenly aware of how exposed you are with your torn dress.
âCheat at what?â Thrashing, you try to slip from the restraints, which only has Sylusâs Evol squeezing tighter, pulling your wrists from behind your back to up in the air. âLet us go, now.â
âFeisty,â Sylus purrs, hand moving from your thigh to your jaw. Squeezing your cheeks between his forefinger and thumb, he wrenches your gaze off Rafayel, forcing your neck to crane up to look him in the eye as he presses up against your back.
âThatâs always been your problem, hasnât it? Always resisting, even when you donât know why.â His lips quirk into a wicked smile. âIn that case, say no.â
And then Sylusâs lips are on yours, warm and insistent.
Your eyes widen, a muffled sound of surprise rising in your throat as the warmth of his kiss spreads across your lips. Itâs instinct, the way your body immediately leans into his embrace, desire and confusion tearing at your chest.Â
The logical part of you wants to pull away, but oh, something deep inside you sings so sweetly at his touch, making your mind fuzzy and body hot as Sylus tilts your head to the side. The angle has your neck screaming in protest, trapped between Sylusâs possessive grip on your neck and his chest, yet you swear itâs the dichotomy between the pain of his grasp and the devotion of his lips that has you addicted. Â
This close, his scent is entirely intoxicating, a heady mix of spices and smoke, breath hot against your mouth, his lips surprisingly soft, gentle against yours. He doesnât rush, a low, contented noise humming in his chest as you deepen the kiss, already licking against his bottom lip as you crane your neck for more, grinding back against him as best you can with your arms now bound above you.Â
You donât even realize youâre doing it.Â
The bond with Sylus purrs in realization, and he has to summon up every ounce of strength and control left to break away, groaning into your skin as his lips trailing along your jaw, down to your neck, teeth grazing every spot that makes you shiver, and yet refusing to sink in. Refusing to mark you as his own. Not yet.Â
When Sylus finally pulls back, you're panting, flushed and breathless. An absolute mess.Â
"You're fussy, kitten," he murmurs, panting, his large frame practically surrounding you, heaving as you stumble forward under the weight. "But if you want more, you need to answer me."
"I donât understand.â Youâre panting, and fuck, itâs hard to breathe. âWhat does this have to do withâŚ"
The hand not busy laying claim to your throat travels down to meet the rip in your dress, brushing across your bare ribs. You feel Sylus smile into the nape of your neck as you moan at the icy burn of his rings caressing the flushed skin of your chest, his hand large enough to cup the entirety of the poor, sensitive flesh.Â
That is, until his touch retreats entirely, the searing heat of his presence replaced with an empty chill.Â
âYes or no?â Sylusâs voice is low, rough, and commanding, but thereâs a crack in his tone that gives him away. âI need to hear it, kitten. I need to hear you say you want this.â
You groan, head lolling forward, feeling the last shreds of your resolve crumble. Itâs almost too much to bear, shadows coiled around you like velvet chains, holding you upright even as your strength falters.Â
Why were you even fighting in the first place? The thought slips from your grasp, fleeting as a wisp of smoke. You can barely recall why youâre mad at them, at Sylus, at Rafayel. The failed mission, the target slipping awayâŚit all feels inconsequential now, eclipsed by the molten desire in your chest.
Did you not want them both? Did you not dream of this? Did you not die for this?Â
The flicker of Sylusâs red eye pierces through the dark, pulling you out of your own thoughts and anchoring you back to this reality as you feel the rumble of his laugh vibrate through your chest even though heâs no longer touching you. You wish he were.Â
âThen say it.â You hear him step closer, but still refusing to touch you. âSay you want this, or else it stops.â
And then itâs back.
A violent surge tears through your chest, flashes of colorâof memoriesâfluttering by in a tempest, in an unintelligible inferno as the burning within your heart returns tenfold. Images flash too fast to comprehend, but the feelings linger: love so deep it swallowed you whole, betrayal like a knife twisting in your ribs, desire that turned your world to ash.Â
They ripple through you, each thread of memory, each red string of fate tying itself tighter to your soul.
Youâre gasping, trying to grip your chest as it feels like your heart is going to burst from your chest, desperate for relief. But Sylusâs Evol makes it impossible to move, snaking down your body instead as it anchors you against the pain attempting to seize your entire being.Â
You want them.Â
You need them.Â
After all, they were always yours.
"Yes."
The word tumbles out, barely audible, a whispered confession that feels like release and surrender all at once.
Control returns to you in waves, your body trembling as if itâs been dragged from the brink of collapse. Your thighs quiver, and even the hold of Sylusâs Evol isnât enough to stop the shuddering. Everything burns. Gods, everything burns.Â
Behind you, Sylus makes a low sound that only makes the shaking worse. Itâs raw, gutturalâa noise you feel rather than hear. His control is unraveling, and for the first time, you realize heâs as close to breaking as you are.
Heâs trembling.
Even with his iron control, even with his Evol wrapping around you like armor, he canât stop the way his fingers hover just shy of your skin, tracing the curve of your neck, your spine, your waist, like heâs memorizing you. And heâs closeâtoo close.Â
His breath is hot against the nape of your neck, and you can feel the tension radiating from him, maintaining that invisible barrier as he replays your âyesâ in his mind again and again and again.
âWhat was that?â His voice is a rough whisper, but the challenge is clear. âI donât think I heard you.â
âYes!â You nearly yell it this time, humiliation burning across your cheeks, but itâs dwarfed by the heat of your desire. âI said yes.â
Sylus lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a groan and a growl, and every reason heâs had to hold back shatters. His Evol ripples, shadows weaving around your body in a dark embrace. Hands fly to your hips, a palm squeezing your thigh as your left leg is lifted completely off the ground.Â
Sylus inhales you in greedy mouthfuls, lips dancing down your neck, your shoulder blade, nipping into the skin, reverent and desperate in equal measure. This new position was beyond vulnerable, Sylus forcing your quivering thigh higher and higher until it presses into your chest, the crude slice in your dress providing absolutely no resistance or chance for modesty, allowing everything to be exposed to the chill of the officeâs midnight air.Â
And to the hungry gaze of the man seated before you.Â
"So needy, kitten. Are you finally remembering?â Sylus coos against your ear, but his smirk is fixed on Rafayel, looking directly at him as his free hand trails down between the slits of fabric, toying with the lace band of your panties, long, rough fingers slipping under them in teasing circles. âBeg.â
âWhat?â You hate the way your voice quivers as Sylus teases your cunt through the thin, already-drenched fabric. âYouâre out of yourâah, fuckingâmind, Sylus.â
âQuite the opposite. After all, we have an audience to impress.â A sudden slap against your clothed pussy has you moaning, jolting against your restraints, futile, and yet the disturbance is just enough for the left strap of your dress to slip off your shoulder, exposing the swell of your breast just shy of the nipple that was no doubt already hard enough to peek through the sheer silk all on its own.Â
âGo on, beg for me.â
You donât even get a chance to argue, not when Sylus delivers another harsh slap on your clit, soothing it with a cruel swirl, just enough to have you chasing the friction, grinding down against his palm with a choked sob. His middle two fingers tease against your slit, teasing but never breaching as the soaked fabric is stretched around his digits. Heâs breaking you, and itâs working.Â
"...Please." It comes out in a whine, and you bury your face in his chest as you feel yourself burn in embarrassment.Â
A hum and Sylusâs hand leaves your cunt, making you whine at the loss. That is, until it's replaced on your neck, pushing your head up. A squeeze. "I said beg."
The pressure of his hold and the sweet demand of his voice only makes you wetter despite yourself. "Please," you repeat, shaking, each breath cut off just slightly by his thumb. "Please, Sylus, need it."
At first you think the bastard is doing this for himself, but as soon as you finish gasping out the words, his hand moves from your neck to your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to look across the room.Â
Forcing you to look right at Rafayel.
Still bound and gagged, desperate doesnât begin to describe him. Straining against his bounds, Rafayelâs entire body is shaking, trembling from either need or fury, gripping the leather until his knuckles turn white. Sunset eyes are glassy, blown out with unshed tears as they struggle to focus on everywhere Sylus touches you, the bruises against your neck, the quiver in your leg, the slick dripping down your thighs up to your clothed cunt.
Fuck, heâs hard. Rafayelâs cock strains painfully against his pants, an obvious dark spot tented up against his trousers, rocking against empty air with a muffled sob.
He looks more wrecked than you, and he hasnât even been touched yet.
And that realization does horrible, terrible things to you.Â
âPlease. Need you, need it sâbad it hurts. Wanna cum so, so badly, please,â you whine, deliberately sweet, locking eyes with Rafayel as you drag out your moan. âSylus.â
Thereâs a click of a belt buckle and youâre being lifted up into the air. Sylus holds you up by the backs of your knees, completely at his mercy as your hands flail against the restraints pulled taut above your head. Your legs are spread wide, hugged tight to his chest as you feel his length, hot and desperate, pressing into your ass.Â
"Hold her down."
The shadows pull taut, wrapping around your knees as they allow Sylusâs hands to wander elsewhere, suspending you against him. At the same time, his fingers are hooked against your panties, snapping them against your weeping cunt and giving Rafayel the perfect view as the two men lock eyes.
Rafayelâs reaction is almost immediate, falling forward in the chair, moans stifled against the shadows as he watches Sylus push your panties to the side and then, without warning, thrust two fingers in knuckle-deep.Â
"You're so sensitive, aren't you, sweetie? Or is it because heâs watching?" As you cry the man simply drags you flush against his chest, forcing your legs higher as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. And looks Rafayel dead in the eyes. âSheâs taking me so well, isnât she?â
Sylus follows Rafayelâs gaze, unfocused and starving as he watches the two of you, more specifically, where your cunt greedily sucks up Sylusâs fingers, meeting every grind and curl of him deep inside you as you writhe against his chest.Â
Rafayel hates it, he hates it, and he hates how turned on he is at the sight.
Youâre so easy, walls clenching around his digits, obscene suck following each and every movement as clear evidence even as your words fail you. With another curl of his fingers, Sylus twists his wrist, admiring the glint of your slick dripping down his palm and forearm. So wet, even as he purposefully avoids giving you what youâre seeking, planning to drive you insane before fucking you in any way that matters.
A particularly deep thrust of Sylusâs fingers has him grazing that sweet spot, and your entire body convulses, your cries echoing across the empty room in time to the lewd, wet squelches of Sylusâs ministrations. You're sobbing, struggling to find respite from the sensations as your legs tremble and familiar heat coils in your core embarrassingly fast.Â
"Ah, ah," Sylus chides, and his touch disappears, leaving you empty and unsatisfied as your head lolls back against his shoulder. It takes all of your willpower not to beg him to keep going, but the look on his face makes it clear you're not allowed.
"I needââ
"You need," his grip is firm, "To learn patience. Arenât you forgetting something? If you cum so quickly, do you really think youâll be able to handle the both of us?"
Sylus says that, and yet heâs not exactly helping. Finally giving attention to your clit, his pace is merciless, the slick sounds of your pussy sucking his fingers in making his cock twitch in his pants.
"Yes. Yes, Sylus, I want ahâ wait," you gasp, unable to move, squirming in the air as you look directly at Rafayel, almost in a plea. But that only makes the poor man almost cum at the eye contact. His entire body flushes an erotic pink at the sight of you, pathetic whimpers and unintelligible praises muffled into the shadows.
Sylus smirks, feeling you clench around his fingers, and grinds forward, your protests dissolving into static as you feel his cock grind between your thighs. Fuck, youâre close.
But Sylus isnât looking down at you, not anymore. Heâs rather focused on the poor man looking nearly hypnotized at the show youâre so generously putting on.Â
So why not take it further? Sylus directs his Evol down, ripping Rafayelâs shirt and squeezing his thighs as they tease and tighten against his trembling muscles, grinning at the man practically falling apart without so much as a touch.Â
"You want a taste, puppy?âÂ
Sylus smirks, kissing down your neck, finally undoing his Evol gagging Rafayelâs mouth as a pathetic whine echoes across the room alongside every heaving breath. âAsk nicely, and maybe I'll let you. If she cums, sheâs all yours."
Rafayel has never wanted to burn a building down so badly before.Â
He's a god for fuck's sakeâhe, the bringer of tempests, the master of tidal waves, and the keeper of fire, unable to even fucking breathe at the sight of you. This is not desire; this is sacrilege.Â
But then he hears it. His name. Shattered, trembling, falling from your lips like prayers ripped from a throat too broken to careâRafayel, Rafayel, Rafayelâyour thighs quivering in the air, your body offering to something you donât fully understand, each syllable searing through him like molten iron, branding him, unmaking him.
Rafayelâs fingers twitch with the need to destroyâburn, drown, something. But when you scream his name once more, cumming around Sylusâs fingers, the god inside him shatters.
"Please," his throat is raw from cursing through the gag, each word tasting like ash and salt on his tongue. "Please, Sylus."
Itâs not enough. Sylus tilts his head, amused. Rafayel sucks in a shuddering breath, nearly falling from the chair to his knees as the restraints loosen.
"You want a god to beg?" Rafayel laughs, fury crackling beneath his desperation. "Iâll beg. Iâll kneel. Iâll crawl to her. Please, just let me taste. Donât make me wait anymore."
âThen crawl.â
Youâre only just coming down from your orgasm, bits of Rafayelâs and Sylusâs nth argument flickering through your mindâ before youâre suddenly gasping for breath.Â
A silent scream rips from your mouth as the restraints above you flicker with every tremor that seizes your body, knees buckling as a searing sensation against your leg bites again.
You didnât even see Rafayel get off the chair, let alone process when he got on his knees beneath you.Â
âRafayel!â Looking down through tear-lined lashes, you watch the man lick his lips, his only apology a wet, messy kiss to the violet bruise already blooming against your inner thigh. Heâs whimpering apologies into your leg, tongue slipping out to meet your quivering skin, collecting your sweat and dripping slick, smearing it higher and higher along your inner thigh. You swear no human tongue is that long.
As if coordinated, the moment Sylus releases your leg from his hold, Rafayel drapes it over his shoulder, your body suspended between them. Your hands writhe helplessly above your head, desperate to lace themselves into the man's hair and pullâ closer or further, you do not know.Â
Rafayelâs yanking you forward, moaning into your cunt as his lips meet your own swollen onesâtoo hasty, too depraved to even think of pulling aside your sticky panties. Heâs eating through the fabric like a man starved, teeth grazing your clit as his tongue slips under, burying himself between your folds, tongue fucking up into you as his moans and whines are muffled only by your own and the wet squelches of your cunt.
"Iâ R-RafayelâSylus!"
Your head rolls back, falling onto Sylusâs chest as you feel Rafayel moan, the vibrations sending a shockwave up your spine. Your cum is dripping down his chin and chest, and heâs lost in the heat and taste of you, head spinning as he makes out with your pussy, sucking the drenched fabric of your panties, his poor neglected cock straining against his pants, begging for attention. In truth, Rafayel doesnât think heâs ever been this hard in his life.
Rafayel presses closer, nose brushing against your clit in sync with the curling and twisting of his tongue as it reaches that spongy abused spot deep inside you, the hot friction enough to send your eyes rocking into the back of your skull.Â
Now youâre certain, the way it writhes inside you is most definitely far from human.Â
Sylus is more than content to just watch over your shoulder, transfixed. Watch as the god kneels beneath you, head moving in a frenzy, desperate for more, a slave to his own hunger. When you try to writhe away from Rafayel, overstimulated, Sylus merely wraps his burly forearms around your waist and neck to pin you in place, the squeeze of Sylusâs biceps and Rafayelâs kissing to your cunt making you gloriously light-headed.Â
Sylus watches your muscles begin to tremor, thighs locking around Rafayelâs head, and he brings his palm down to curl his fingers up into you alongside Rafayelâs tongue.Â
âMy, just look at you.â Sylus chuckles against your forehead as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, stifling your moans as you biteâhardâdown into his sweat-slicked skin. âSo needy for the both of us. Do you remember now? Do you realize the only thing your body craves is us, that we will be the only ones ever able to satisfy you?â
"Sylus, oh god, please," you moan, already delirious as you beg.Â
Rafayel's head snaps up, panting between your legs, your wetness shining on his chin. He glares at the man above him, his eyes alight before pressing a rough kiss to your clit.Â
"Iâm your god. Do not speak to him while I'm touching you.â Rafayelâs mouth is back on your cunt, sucking, biting, and he reaches a hand up to rip the remaining fabric of your dress, squeezing your breast. "You're mine, Youâre mine too. You were mine first, donât forget that again."Â
Rafayel feels the way you tense around his tongue and Sylusâs fingers and frowns, sucking harder, faster. You are a symphony in their ears, a drug in their veins, and gods, Rafayel has never felt so high.
 "Say it. Say my name,â he whines, drooling against your folds, "you're mine. All mine."
You can barely breathe.
"Say it."
"Yours, Rafayel," you cry out, your entire body shaking, "I'm yours."
"Again," heâs pleading, a growl, and you can feel it inside you, the vibration and the desperation. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, the dizziness in his vision to kiss your clitâmissing, placing wet, opened-mouth kisses against your thighs and cunt a few times instead. "Say it again."
"Yours, always, always," you can feel the tears running down your cheeks, a sob wrenching from your throat as the pressure grows, "yours, Rafayel, I'm yoursâ"
Youâre babbling, so, so fucked out you donât even recognize the familiar letters Rafayel presses into your clit with every swirl of his tongueâR-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-Lâspelling his name as if in reminder. In possession. In worship.
The two of you are practically overstimulating yourselves, and Sylus can see the moment your eyes roll back, your lips parting with a moan, and moves his fingers to curl against your g-spot at the same time Rafayel goes back to licking up into your cunt. The god growls at the interruption and nips Sylusâs fingers almost on instinct, causing Sylus to hiss as you jerk in his hold.Â
Immediately, Sylus is reaching down, yanking on Rafayelâs hair, forcing his head out from beneath you. âAh-ah, no biting.â
But, gods, does Rafayel fight it. Whining, Rafayel reluctantly slips his tongue out from your cunt, dazed and addicted, eyes half-lidded as he attempts to find his way back to you, finally forced back onto his heels.Â
"The fuck do you think you're doing? Sylus, I swear to the seas Iâll set everything on fire and let it all burn," Rafayel snarls, his body shaking with desire.
Sylus laughs. "Is that how a good boy asks?"
Neither of you misses the full shiver that races down Rafayelâs spine at the pet name. Sylus forces Rafayelâs head to the side with his grip on his hair and the god snaps out of it, smiling with the promise of blood as your cum drips from his canines.Â
"I have killed for less."
"Iâll make it worth the effort, puppy. I promise."
Sylus's eyes burn into him, a silent dare. A challenge. Rafayel's gaze shifts back and forth between Sylus and you, his teeth grinding together as his cock strains against his pants. There are only two choices left, and he knows it.
âWill both of you stop fighting and pleaseââ you scream at their stupidity, âPlease just fuck me!â
Their hands are on you in an instant.
Sylus drags Rafayel up by the hair, pushing the man back as he stumbles backward onto the couch, you falling on top of him as Sylus bends you over the leather arm. Immediately, you feel the hot press of Sylus against your ass, his body caging you between them as his arms rest on the back of the couch and right beside Rafayelâs head.Â
âMake him come, and Iâll fuck you,â Sylus whispers into your ear, guiding your back into a deeper arch until your breasts graze the cold leather.Â
He doesnât even finish talking before youâre pawing at Rafayelâs pants.Â
You donât need the extra motivation, not really, not when youâre already salivating at the sight of Rafayelâs pretty length, heavy and leaking as it snaps up to his abdomen as soon as you shove down his boxers.
Overly eager, you thumb at his slit, collecting the copious amounts of sticky pre-cum dripping onto his stomach as you drag your hand up and down, watching anger fade from Rafayelâs expression entirely as he writhes against the couch.Â
Youâve barely even touched him and heâs falling apart. The sheen of sweat makes his muscles stick to the leather as he bucks up into your touch, babbling pleas as he watches you lean down to kiss the tip. "Poor baby. Youâre this hard from just watching?"
"Please," Rafayel begs, gasping as your hand squeezes against the base of his pretty cock. "Wanna fuck you. Wanna be inside you. Please."
You hesitate, almost looking over your shoulder at Sylus for permission when youâre lifted up into the air with a yelp. Sylus only needs one arm to hoist you over the arm of the couch, dropping you onto Rafayelâs lap as the both of you moan at the mere contact of skin on skin.Â
It should be embarrassing, the fact that youâre so wet that at the first few attempts, Rafayelâs cock merely slides between your thighs, grinding into your clit before trying again, Sylus cooing sweet nothings to the both of you as he purposely slows you down.
One of his large hands begins grinding you onto Rafayelâs length, letting you take him inch by inch, the other moving to stop the man beneath you from squirming, pinning him down.Â
"Mhm fuck, Raf, feels so good." Relishing the stretch you finally, finally, get. Greedily sinking faster as you chase the addictive feeling, down until your ass hits his pelvis with a lewd squelch.
"Ah," Rafayel tries to meet you halfway, tries to thrust up into you but canât so much as move with Sylusâs hand and Evol holding him down yet again. âSylus, please, let me. Need it, need it so bad.â
The sound of Rafayel moaning Sylusâs name really shouldnât be that hot, and yet you feel your pussy flutter, Rafayelâs cock twitching violently in you as he groans from the sudden pressure, throbbing in time to your heartbeat. Rolling your hips, you chase the friction of his pelvis against your clit, grinding back and forth as your breathing reduces to small cries of their names.Â
"You can do better than that," Sylus scoffs, hand squeezing your hip, pressing down onto your lower abdomen before dragging you all the way off Rafayelâs length and slamming you back down. Again. And again.
Both of you lose your minds a little at that. Your moan is muffled as you collapse down onto Rafayelâs chest, panting, drooling at the pace Sylus is setting for you, still moving your hips as you try to distract yourself by placing messy, opened-mouth kisses up Rafayelâs heaving chest. Biting his nipple just to watch him arch into your mouth with a sob. Wanting, needing more.Â
Sylus rocks you forward just a bit more and you scream, the fat head of Rafayelâs cock now ramming into your g-spot, raw and sensitive.
"Please, fuck," Rafayel gasps out, shaking at the change in angle. His jaw hangs deliriously open as he looks down, greedy eyes locked on the way your cunt was swallowing him whole. âDonât stop, mâclose. Please, ahâshit, donât squeeze me like thatâ donât stop.â
Sylusâs low laugh makes your cunt throb, gushing around Rafayelâs cock as the sticky, creamy strands begin to pool where your thighs meet. Still guiding you up and down, Sylus moves to finger at your clit, smiling as the both of you tense up immediately, smacking up once, twice, onto your oversensitive nub.Â
âVery well then, make him cum. Poor thing deserves it, right?â Sylus whispers into your ear, spreading two fingers across the glossy mess between your bodies, watching your combined slick drip down his wrist. You watch him withdraw his glistening fingers with a smug, feral grin, immediately leaning down to press the digits into Rafayelâs open mouth.Â
Every sound is unrestrained now, Rafayelâs eyes rolling back at the taste of you coating Sylusâs fingers, sucking diligently as his pace speeds up into brutal, frantic thrusts. Rafayelâs hips freely jerk up as he plants his feet into the couch, new leverage letting him ram himself deeper, barely pulling out before rolling his hips back into yours. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, fuuuck."
"Cum, puppy, I know you're close."
You swallow your cries just long enough to lick across Rafayelâs blushing red ear and whisper, "Be a good boy and cum for us, Raf. Come inside me, please?â
It hits him so hard it hurts.
Rafayel cries as he cums, loud, sweet moans garbled against Sylusâs fingers, drooling around him nearly as much as his cock is drooling in you, the sheer heat of his release filling you to the brim as it squirts down your thighs and up his abs in thick rivulets. But heâs still grinding up into you as he cums, fucking his release deeper, arching his muscled back into a gorgeous curve on the soaked leather, and you feel your own orgasm quickly approaching.
"Rafayel, Sylus, wait please, too much, Iâm gonnaâ"
"You can take it, kitten.â Sylus cuts you off, retracting his fingers from Rafayelâs mouth before tapping them against his cheek, smearing the wetness of his digits down his jaw.
Rafayel gets the message, still thrusting, hands squeezing your breasts, waist, down to your ass, spreading your thighs until they shake, all as Sylus keeps moving your hips. The two of them working together as your body shudders, orgasm hitting you without any other warning.Â
Sylus hums sweet praises as your head floats in and out of reality, still deliciously stretched around Rafayelâs still-hard cock. The couch dips as Sylus settles in behind you, the heat of his bare skin caressing your back as his hands massage comforting little circles into yours and Rafayelâs hips.Â
âGood job, baby.â
Both of you shudder at the praise.Â
Sylusâs voice acts as little more than an aphrodisiac, all low and rough with a teasing chuckle, and the way you feel Rafayel twitch inside you makes you think he feels similarly.Â
âHey,â Rafayelâs already embarrassingly close to coming again, your every movement tightening and rocking against his length. He pushes himself up onto his elbows with a whine, nuzzling into your touch with each slow, deep thrust. âYouâre taking too long. Hurry up, a deal is a deal, so hurry up already and fuck her.â Â
You canât see it, but the sight of you and Rafayel still subtly grinding against each other, panting and breathless, makes a dark flush spread across Sylusâs cheeks, his own body betraying him as he smiles. One thick arm anchors you to his chest as the other pulls Rafayel up. âSo needy, arenât you?â
You donât know who heâs talking toâ you donât particularly care.Â
Not so long as both of them were inside you within the next five seconds.Â
âShh,â Sylus kisses you quiet, silencing the whines you didnât even realize you were letting out, "Don't worry, kitten. We're gonna take real good care of you, aren't we, Rafayel?"
Rafayel only nods, eyes half-lidded and teary as he looks down to where you and him are joined. He's still buried to the hilt, throbbing against your walls, and you both moan at the overstimulation from every movement, hissing at the cool air as Sylus slides his hands down to pull you apart, fingers pressing against his cock inside you.
"Just relax, alright? Deep breaths. This'll feel really good soon."
Slow. Torturously slow. Sylus retreats his fingers and replaces them with his weeping tip. And then heâs pushing in alongside Rafayelâs cockâ careful, deep grinds of his hips that have you and Rafayel moaning, every heartbeat pulsing against your walls in violent thumps.Â
"Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"Breathe, Raf."
"I'll burn you alive."
Sylus laughs at Rafayel's pained whine, and he takes that moment to tighten his arm around your waist, forcing you steady before thrusting in one brutal push. The sheer size of them, the combined pressure, and the very fact that you can feel them both rocking and throbbing against each other is enough to have you losing your mind.Â
Dropping his head to kiss your shoulders, Sylus almost looks apologetic as he turns your head to the side, messily licking into your lips as he says, âMâsorry, just a bit more. Just a bit- hah fuck- a bit deeperââÂ
Oh fuck, heâs not even in all the way yet.
Rafayel is moaning nonstop now, his hands finding yours and squeezing, the two of you trembling. You're a drooling, overstimulated mess between them, but all you can do is nod, a garbled, âSâokay, keep- keep going.â
That's the last warning you get before Sylus pushes deeper, until you can feel him in your throat, pound after heavy pound that shakes the entire damn couch. Holy fuck, it might break.Â
Theyâre caging you in on either side, rhythmless, bouncing you like little more than a toy, pressing closer as the pressure grows against your walls and around your hips, reminding you of just how small you are to them in every conceivable way and how far theyâre willing to go for you. How willing of worship they are. How desperate they are to prove it.Â
You can feel everything, so full you can barely breathe, can barely think. Shaky fingers claw down anything you can find, digging into hard planes of muscle, and Rafayel makes a sound against your mouth like it hurts. But he isn't holding back either, the grip on your thighs bruising as he fucks into you, every thrust a sharp shock of pleasure as he and Sylus rock against one another.
The room is filled with the lewd squelch of their cocks fucking into your wet cunt, taking turns in deep, uneven tempos, and the heavy, ragged sounds of your breathing.
Sylus suddenly moans, loud and unrestrained against your shoulder, and you look back to see Rafayelâs hand squeezing the pale column of his neck, the slow lick of flames leaving bright red marks against his skin in the shape of Rafayelâs palm.
But the pain only seems to set Sylus off further, a harsh thrust into your ass forcing you forward and deeper onto Rafayel as well, nearly delirious as youâre stuck between their silent competition yet again.
Rafayelâs mouth gasps open in a feverish puff of your name over and over when you already begin clenching, practically milking them back in, pace stuttering as his swollen tip takes turns colliding with Sylusâs own and your cervix. Half-delirious, his palm comes up, pressing right where he could feel both of their cocks making a mess of you inside.Â
âAh! W-what-â
âMhm, you deserve a reward donât you cutie?â Heâs panting against your mouth while Sylus bites the filthiest of words into the crook of your neck. The lovebites theyâve swathed across your skin will take days, if not weeks to disappear, but youâre far too gone to pay them any mind. âTake it, take our cum then. Right here.â
Rafayelâs palm digs into your lower stomach, hard.
His thrusts are short and frantic now, his face pressed into the crook of your neck as you tighten impossibly around him. The pressure builds until you can't breathe, your body shaking and toes curling as you scream out little ahâs of their names.
"Wanna-" Rafayel can barely finish his sentence, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust, the head of his cock knocking against your cervix. "Wanna fill you up, make sure you never forget. Never forget us again.â
Sylus on the other hand almost looks pained at the idea, and the sudden rush of possessiveness makes his thrusts harsher, rougher, and the sound of his hips colliding with yours fills the room.
âYes yes yes- hah- want you to cum inside.â Arching between them, grappling pathetically for more. More. âBoth of you inside, want it.â
"Careful." Sylus growls, forcing himself to breathe. To think.Â
Rafayel only grins, a wicked edge to his fucked-out smile. âItâd be our mark. All ours. Our love, all full of us, our cum. You'd look so good like that, our sweet darling.â
You cry, burying your face in Rafayel's neck, his hair, the smell of him, of Sylus. "Wanna- wantâahhâwant it, Sylus, please- want to feel it, want to be both of yours.â
âDonât.â Sylus can't help but hiss, his cock swell violently inside of you, the telltale heat pooling in his stomach of a dragon marking his territory. Heâs so close itâs embarrassing.Â
Instead, his mouth finds your throat, sucking more bruises into the side Rafayel hasnât completely marred. "Do you really want this? Think about it, kitten."
Rafayel laughs, squeezing your face in his hand as a low trill sounds from the back of his throat. âYou believeâmhm, fuckâshe can think right now?â
Sylus chooses to ignore him. Gently taking your face from Rafayel, he covers your eyes, whispering into your ear, "One more time. Do you want this?â
âYes.â
There's no response, but the sudden, painful press of Sylus's bite makes you gasp, the sharp sting a pleasant contrast to the sweet ache spreading throughout your body. A hand pulls against your waist, another flicking cruelly across your nipple, pain and pleasure bleeding into one as you nearly collapse, two sets of hands immediately steading you instead. Rafayel moves to the unoccupied side of your neck, matching Sylusâs marks, the vulgar sounds of their tongues and sucking of teeth between moans fills your ears, just above the slap of their rough thrusts.Â
Twin marks, the jaws of a Lemurian and the canines of a dragon, glowing a dull blue and red, claiming your body and soul in a way that their bonds sing.Â
Sylus immediately retracts, kissing away the few escaped droplets of blood in apology while Rafayel lets them run, licking up your collarbone as the blood smears across your heartbeat, frantic under his tongue.Â
Rafayel's tongue soothes the pain as he kisses the mark, sighing a soft, âours,â into your neck.
The possessive edge in his voice sends a shockwave through your body, and you can't help but shudder, walls spasming around them as the pleasure nearly blinds you, every sense heightened by Sylusâs palm still covering your eyes.Â
Without sight, every touch, every shift of their bodies against yours, in yours, is overwhelming. And youâre crying out into the darkness as they tease and drag you up, forcing you closer and closerâÂ
Fuck, youâre squirting everywhere. Each thrust now punctuated by wet slaps as your hands claw and slip against the drenched muscles of Rafayelâs abs and Sylusâs chest, unable to anchor yourself as you continue to cum. Shaking with it.Â
They barely notice, the sudden vice of your cunt sucking them inside as they fuck into you in shallow, desperate little grinds. Anything to get deeper and deeper still, one kissing you as you feel their tongue lick up into you and the other playing with your clit, all three of you quickly losing your minds.
Itâs impossibly messy, desperate. Neither of them has any control left, both cumming inside you as you continue to convulse around them, Sylus's hips stuttering as you feel the full, hot press of his release. Rafayel isn't far behind, whining and twitching, filling you up as their combined release gushes around your thighs, staining the leather couch below with dripping pools of it.
The feeling of being so full is enough to prolong your orgasm to the point of pain, and you scream their names as best you can when you canât feel your tongue anymore, body convulsing.
You're still dizzy when Rafayel finally pulls away, a soft whimper escaping his lips at the feeling.
âSo good, so pretty for us cutie, our sweet darling, you did so well." Rafayelâs babbling to himself with a lopsided smile, guiding Sylusâs hand to your navel. "Look, look. She's so full."
Sylus pulls back, heaving, his eyes immediately falling to where Rafayel's hand rests. He can feel it, can feel both of their releases seeping out, but Rafayel is right, your lower stomach is swollen. Not quite enough to show, but definitely enough to make them both moan, and the sound draws your attention back down to earth.
âAgain.â
It's the first demand youâve given in a while, and itâs not what Sylus expected, not with the way you barely seem lucid, but there's a bright flush to your cheeks and an excited glint in your eyes, and it's so fucking hot he can barely breathe.Â
What Sylus also didnât expect was for you to immediately lift yourself off his dick, busy watching your combined spend trickle down your thighs before both you and Rafayel knock Sylus onto his back, looking equal parts feral and furious as the two of you work together to pin him down.Â
âYou really didnât think Iâd let you get away with everything you pulled in the beginning, did you?âÂ
You nod, biting into Sylusâs neck as you whisper in faux anger. âThis is entirely your fault.â
Sylus could barely manage to hide his smile.Â
Who knows if any of you will make it out of this alive. The only lasting truth you know now is that theyâve irreversibly claimed you. That youâve claimed them.Â
Your dragon and your god.
This is all for @jayhyunglover who sparked this obsession while I was stuck in NYC's airport-- what a way to start 2025. Regardless, a month later this was born, so thank you, darling for feeding my delusions. This one's for you~
The planet Muryaâs name is a wordplay on âMauryaâ, which was the name of a well-renowned Empire in ancient India. Also quite notoriously known for making the king of Macedon, Alexander, give up on his conquest of colonizing India.
It is similar to how Lemuriaâs name was taken from the long lost sub-continent of Lemuria (known as Kumari Kandam among natives) in south of India as well.
As usual, Rafayelâs storyline is yet again built on Indian history and mythology. There are more details to this, which I will be decoding at a later date. But as I shared earlier, this is indeed the beginning of all storylines (which I have explained in my decoding here).
This predates the âGod of Tidesâ Myth. This is where story of Rafayel and RafayelMC begun. đ
The planet Muryaâs name is a wordplay on âMauryaâ, which was the name of a well-renowned Empire in ancient India. Also quite notoriously known for making the king of Macedon, Alexander, give up on his conquest of colonizing India.
It is similar to how Lemuriaâs name was taken from the long lost sub-continent of Lemuria (known as Kumari Kandam among natives) in south of India as well.
As usual, Rafayelâs storyline is yet again built on Indian history and mythology. There are more details to this, which I will be decoding at a later date. But as I shared earlier, this is indeed the beginning of all storylines (which I have explained in my decoding here).
This predates the âGod of Tidesâ Myth. This is where story of Rafayel and RafayelMC begun. đ
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