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"ʜᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ—ᴀ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴘʀᴇʟᴜᴅᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ ᴀʜᴇᴀᴅ."
This blog is all about sharing recommendations for Love & Deepspace fanfics. I’ll keep adding new posts as fresh fics come out. Just to clarify, all the fics listed here are owned by their respective creators. I’m simply putting together a list and don’t claim ownership of any of the works mentioned.
✦ ᴡᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀᴍᴇ
Authors weave dreams into words, pouring heart and soul into every page. Their dedication breathes life into stories that inspire and connect.
✦ ᴛɪᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇꜱ
A collection of Love and Deepspace fics, handpicked by fellow dreamers. Stories of longing, adventure, and the quiet magic between stars—waiting to be explored.
✦ ᴇᴘɪꜱᴏᴅᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴠᴇ
A thoughtfully arranged collection of Love and Deepspace fics, where completed and ongoing tales intertwine. Each story is delicately tagged, guiding seekers to their next adventure with ease.
Pairing! Gym bro!Caleb x spiritual!reader; reader's afab
Desc! Caleb has a crush on his neighbor, but she hates his guts.
Warnings! no smut, angst, fluff, usage of she/her pronouns, mentions of stalking, neighbors to ???, teasing, perverted Caleb, mullet caleb, implied yandere caleb at the end, strict reader, mentions of reader liking someone else, implications of caleb's bionic arm, caleb has a sex addiction, reader has trust issues, caleb yearns for her, just doesn't know how to act right, caleb ragebaiting reader, reader almost fights caleb's previous one night stand lol, petnames (sweetheart, baby, honey, spirit), single use of good girl, caleb's a colonel in this one but it's not talked about a lot, bit of a timeskip near the end
A/N! Please check out my pinned post for the masterlist and a general message about my page.
A/N 2! I'm finally done w/ this, omfggggggggg. I highkey feel bad it took so long, but I hope y'all like it? (Feb 2nd)
W/C! 17.5k
You stirred your cup of homemade tea as you sat in front of the fan, listening to music. The hot sun and air had shone their asses on the city, and the AC wasn’t working well. You had the windows open to let in the little breeze there was. But it was so humid, you were practically blowing hot air on yourself. The incense swirled around the living room and filled your nose. Its pleasant, tranquil smell eased your mind of the tensions from the past couple of weeks.
Someone was stalking you.
You weren’t sure why, since you rarely left the house, but you assumed it was because of the times you did. You can’t figure out who it could be. Between Mr. Braintree in 307, Mr. Sunderland in 105, and Caleb next door. You cringe at the thought of it being any one of those, or anyone really. Your fingers circle a random spot in the colorful rug, looking outside as you hum the song.
You hear a knock at the door, and shift your eyes toward it, getting up and pulling down the inner part of your that scrunched up. Your feet tap on the wooden floor as you walk over, looking through the peephole once you're there. You didn't see anyone there, but you cautiously opened the door and looked down to see a small package.
You knelt and picked it up, then quickly backed up and closed the door. The small blue box didn’t have a label indicating where it came from, but your name and address were on it. You don’t remember ordering anything that could’ve come in this, but you still open it. The tissue paper was a different color from the box and had a note on top.
‘Thank you for ordering from Lilian’s Boutique. We hope you enjoy your order! Please don’t hesitate to contact us if there are any issues!’
A look of confusion covers your face as you stare at the words, then put the note aside and dig through the box. Your eyes widened a bit as you saw the fabric.
It was that maxi skirt you saw at the mall a couple of days ago.
But who would get this for you and why?
Well, the who part was obvious, since it was the one after you. But you still had yet to figure out who that was.
You wanted to wear the skirt, but you didn’t want to give the stalker satisfaction. Unfortunately, there was no receipt, so the opportunity to return it and then buy it yourself was gone as quickly as it came. You kept the skirt in the box, closed it, and put it in the cabinet next to your bookshelf. The clock ticked, and you looked up to check the time.
Crap. You almost forgot about work.
-
After taking a shower and getting ready, you say your prayers and affirmations, putting on your necklace as you do so and rubbing the pendant. Your palms warm as friction builds between them, the words spoken onto the pendant. You walked to the front door, grabbed your keys, and stepped out, locking it afterwards.
“Well, if it isn’t the little mystic,” you heard a familiar voice to your right.
“What do you want, Caleb?” you sigh, taking your key out of the lock and side-eyeing him.
He wore black basketball shorts and a black jacket with his hands in his pockets, a small bag slung over his shoulder.
“I can’t say hi to my favorite neighbor?” he gave a boyish grin.
“No.” Your monotone made him chuckle.
“You headin’ out?”
“Obviously,” you monotonously reply, walking away from him.
“Great! We can leave together!” You stop and turn around, glaring at him. “What?”
“I’m not leaving with you.”
“Well, you’ll be late if you don’t?” he gives a cheeky smile, his dimples popping out.
You almost forgot that one of the elevators was broken.
“I’ll find a way.” You walk past him and head for the stairwell.
“Don’t do that. It’s gonna take you a while to get down there, and it’s,” he checks his watch, “9:45.”
You had 15 minutes of walking time to get across town.
“I’d rather take the stairs than be in an elevator for 10 seconds with you.”
You don’t turn back as you walk off, leaving him alone and stunned.
He watches you leave, his teasing behavior slowly dissipating after your words crush him. Caleb wasn't a bad guy. He was just a ladies' man, and being a gym bro only added to his reputation as one. You can sense him flirting with you every time you see him, and you hate it. But you didn't know that Caleb had a crush on you for a while, having been your neighbor for 3 and a half years. He knew you were a tough one, not just letting any guy in. Whereas with him, he'd let any woman in if it meant getting his dick wet. He’s used to ladies falling at his feet every day, his big dick and good looks being enough evidence to prove that. But, with you and your words, he wasn’t used to the hostility, and it did hurt him; he hated to admit it.
-
You quickly ran down the stairs, calculating how much time you had left before needing to clock in. You constantly checked your phone to see how fast you were going and what the time was.
Caleb stood in the elevator, watching his blurred reflection through the shiny door. He was back to his neutral self, staring stoically at himself.
He concludes that he’s a dickhead. Because instead of trying to form something with you, he just pushed you away through his whore antics. His fist slowly clenched as his mind repeated your words.
“I’d rather take the stairs than be in an elevator for 10 seconds with you.”
He sighed and closed his eyes, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw. The elevator door opened, and he walked out, being greeted by a couple of women who lived in the complex. Some of them slept with him; others were friends with those who slept with him. But they all looked at him and smiled.
“Hey, Caleb!” a few of them waved, while others looked him up and down.
He gave a slight smile and nod, waving his hand a bit as he walked out of the building and onto the street. He looked to his left, then to his right, scanning the people walking by but not seeing you.
You’re probably still in the stairwell.
He stays for a moment longer before walking off, heading to the gym. You fling the stairwell door open and walk out, slightly panting and sweating from the excessive movement your legs just did. You walk past a group of women who eye you up and down, and you jerk your head back.
“Can I help you?” you snap, scrunching your eyebrows.
They don’t say anything and look away, continuing their conversation.
That’s what I thought.
You step out of the building and turn right, jogging a bit to save a few seconds. You checked your phone and saw that there were 5 minutes left to get across town. If you ran, you might make it to the start of your shift on time. Even though it was hotter than hell, you didn’t have much of a choice, and getting a ride would be a pain in the ass.
Your feet move on their own, and you bolt down the street, curving and maneuvering around individuals and groups.
“Excuse me, miss!-” Some guy tried to stop you, but you kept running. You don’t have time to chat.
-
Caleb puts on his gloves, lies on the bench, and grabs both sides of the barbell, lifting it off the stand and starting his reps. A few people showed up at the gym, so it wasn’t too bad. He actually preferred when there weren’t a lot of people. He wore his headphones and listened to music, tuning out the outside. The songs play with aggression, frustration, and need. All things he felt since knowing you.
He didn’t feel anything negative towards you in particular. But he felt these things for himself. Because he couldn’t have you and not be addicted to sex. It was one of the things that held him back from being with you, as well as the fact that you hate his guts.
A couple of women were near the reception desk, talking about something, when one of them looked over at him.
“He’s pretty cute,” she whispered, gesturing at him.
Her friends look over and see Caleb lifting a barbell with 4 weighted plates on each side.
“He comes in here all the time. He usually doesn’t talk to anybody and stays to himself,” one of the girls said, shrugging.
“Do you think I should get his number?” The main girl asked, taking out her friend's compact mirror from her bag and checking her appearance.
“You could try, but what if he’s seeing someone?”
“Oh, please, I’ve had guys leave their girl for me. Every time,” she closes the mirror and hands it back to her friend sitting behind the desk.
She adjusts her sports bra and tank top, pushing up her tits as much as they can go before walking over to him.
Caleb’s on rep 15 when she walks over and leans against the stand for the barbell. He’s too busy in his head and vibing to the music to notice her staring at him, precisely the slight bulge in his shorts. She lightly bites her index finger as she eyes him up and down.
It’s when her knee slightly touches Caleb’s foot that he notices her and puts the long bar back on its stand. He jerks up and takes off his headphones. “Do you need something?”
“I do, if you’d be so kind as to help me figure that out,” she points to the chest fly machine. She turns back to him and blinks her lashes, but Caleb’s perceptive.
“You were just over there the other da-”
“You saw me?!” She blushes and looks back at her friends.
He sighs and gets off the bench, wiping it down before taking his bag and walking off. The girl was too busy planning their date and wedding to even notice he left.
-
You sat in the break room with your head on the table.
“Rough day?” You look up to see your coworker, Elijah, sitting at the table across from yours.
“Yes. I was almost late because” my stupid neighbor wanted to mess with me. “The elevator in my apartment complex broke down. So, I had to take the stairs.”
Okay, you half lied, but it’s not like he’d know the whole truth.
He nodded and looked back at the TV, snacking on something from the row of items management had placed on the table. You checked your phone and saw a text from you.
'Package was delivered at 12:15 PM.'
Another package? This was the third notification you got about a package being delivered to you. And you have no idea where they're coming from. You haven't ordered anything in a while, either.
You close the messaging app and open the Moments app, looking at new posts from friends and family. You were too busy on your phone to notice a familiar person walking up to the table you were at. "Is this seat taken?"
You look up to see Max with his lunch box, and a shy smile forms on your face, "Of course not. How've you been?"
He chuckles and sits in front of you, getting his things situated. "I've been alright. I went on a trip to Sicily to visit some family."
You nod and look back at your phone, "When did you come back? If I had known you were coming back, I would've asked you to bring me something," you joked.
"I actually did bring you something." Your smile falters in surprise, and you feel a bit flustered.
It was apparent to others that the two of you liked each other, but maybe there was a reason neither of you had bothered to give a relationship a shot.
He took out a small box and put it in front of you, "Open it."
You put your phone down and grasped the box, carefully removing the ribbon and lifting the lid. You take the thin tissue paper off the item and stare at it contentedly. "That's very sweet of you. You didn't have to..." Your voice softens as you take the bracelet out.
It was an amalgamation of your aesthetic(s) and hobbies. Things that represented you.
"My cousins made it for me, and said to give it to a friend, so I thought of you instantly." You smile gently, putting the charmed band around your wrist.
He looks down at it with a smile, then looks back up at you.
"It's lovely. Thank you, Max."
He nods and looks down at his food, a smile still on his face. "What about you? You been doing okay?"
You let out a deep sigh and nod, "yeah, just been workin' and chillin'. I went to a festival a couple of days ago, but I didn't stay long because my head started hurting, so..."
He hums, "What kind of festival was it?" then bites into his sandwich.
"It was a rock festival. One of my neighbors kept begging me to go, so I had to," you shrug.
"Ooo, were the Death Stones there?"
"I believe so? I think they were the second or third band playing," you look down at your phone.
"Fuck, man. I just got into them a couple of months ago and really like their music," he takes a sip of water.
"I can ask my neighbor if they have any more stuff coming up? She's really into rock and that kind of music," you suggest, but he waves it off.
"It's alright. I follow them on Moments, so I'll find out from there. Thanks, though." You nod, standing back up and turning your timer off before it rang.
"I gotta get back to work. Apparently, Ashley called out, so Brian gave me her workload." You sigh.
"Aw, damn. Hey, what time do you get off, if you don't mind me asking?" he leans back a bit.
"8:30, but they said I have to wait for Andrew to come back from lunch before I can leave, so probably a couple of minutes after." He nods.
"If it's not too much, or too weird, I was wondering if you'd maybe want to hangout? My mom's hosting a BBQ party at this restaurant down the block from here, in celebration of my brother graduating from college."
"O-oh, I don't want to impose-" he shakes his head.
"She told me to invite you, and I'm also asking on my behalf," he gives a dimpled smile you can't resist.
"Well, I wasn't really planning on going anywhere tonight, but I guess I can tag along," you fiddle with your fingers.
"I just need to go home and get changed really quickly. So, just text me the address, if I don't see you, yeah?"
"Sure." You say goodbye to each other, then quickly walk out, turning on your walkie-talkie. And unaware of Elijah side-eyeing and smirking at the back of your head like a proud dad.
-
Caleb got home a little while ago and, unfortunately, brought the girl from the gym back with him. He doesn't even remember her name because he was thinking about you the whole time. How good your pussy must feel. How your mouth would feel around his dick, and that's what made him fill the condom fully.
He was on his back with his hands resting behind his head. She was lying on his chest, knocked out after the dicking down he did to her. He looked over at his phone and saw that your packages had been delivered. A small smile formed on his face, but it still didn't heal the cut your words created on him earlier.
Feeling irritated, he got up, ignoring the whines and movement from the girl, and bent down to put his clothes on.
"Where are you going?" she sleepily asked.
"I have to go see my sister," he lied, "so you're gonna have to leave."
"I can just stay-"
"No. Leave, please," he tried being nice.
She rolled her eyes and got out of bed, then quickly put on her clothes. She walked over to him and handed him a piece of paper.
"Call me when your 'sister' isn't satisfying you anymore," she looked him up and down like she knew he was lying, and walked out of the room.
He crumbled the paper and threw it in the mini trash can before stepping out of the room and trailing behind her as she left. He locked the door behind her and sighed, leaning his forehead against it.
He really needs to do something about this...
-
You got home around 8:45 PM, set the packages down on the dining table, and quickly moved to your room to get ready. Max had texted you the restaurant's address while you were finishing your workload, and you looked it up on the map, just to make sure, on your way home. The place looked neat and expensive, so you needed to dress for the occasion.
You slid open your closet door and went through your clothes, looking for the dress. He said to dress casually, but how could you do that when his mom was practically showing she had money? Your eyes land on a dress you haven't worn in 5 years and quickly take it out, eyeing it up and down in satisfaction before tossing it on the bed. It was a long maxi dress, dipped in purple dye, with a halter neckline that exposed some of your back.
You got undressed and hopped in the shower, quickly cleaning yourself and washing your hair. Even though washing your hair took longer than usual, you didn't need to be at the restaurant until 9:30, so you had enough time. You rinsed out the shampoo and quickly added conditioner, massaging your scalp and sighing in relief. Your hand reached for the net sponge and put soap on it, lathering your body all over and making sure not to slip on your slippery feet.
You made the water a bit cold and washed the soap off everything. Once everything was thoroughly cleaned, you turned off the water, stepped out, patted yourself dry, and put your towel on the sink. You brushed your hair, worked out any knots from washing it, then applied moisturizer and oil. Your hand reached for the lotion and lathered your body in it, smelling the sweet yet alluring scent and smiling a bit. You opened the bathroom door and quickly stepped out, heading over to your bed to retrieve your clothes. You stepped into your underwear, then snapped on your bra and slid into the dress, smoothing out any wrinkles. You turned around and went back into the bathroom, putting on some light makeup.
After finishing your eyeliner, your phone dinged in the room, so you put the stick down and walked out of the bathroom to check it. The device lit up near your dresser, and you picked it up to see a text from Max.
'Let me know when you're on your way so I can help you in.' - 9:08 PM.
'Just need to put my shoes on, and I'll be there.' - Sent... read.
'No rush. I told her you just got off work, so she's not expecting you to be here right this moment lol.' - 9:10 PM
You nod and bring your phone to the bathroom, fixing your hair a bit before turning the light off and taking it with you. You quickly step toward your purse, throw your phone in it, strap it on your shoulder, and walk out of your bedroom. You rush to the front door, put on your heels, grab a shawl from the small closet next to it, and put it on. Your keys jingle as you take them off the hook, open the front door, step out, and lock it.
"Wow," you hear that annoying voice, and turn to see Caleb with a trash bag.
"Finally cleaning your place?" you say, as you put your keys in your purse and walk off.
He rushed behind you and walked with you, much to your dismay, "Why do you assume my place is a mess?"
"Your life is a mess, is it not?" you rebut, and he dryly chuckles.
"Gee, thanks for telling the world my secrets, hun-"
"Ew, don't call me that." You frown deeply, rubbing your glossed lips together.
"But, seriously. Where are you going at this time?" You step into the elevator, with him standing next to you, despite all the space in the lift.
You side-eye him and press the button that quickly closes the door, "going to dinner with my coworker and his family."
He stiffens a bit and nods.
The elevator moves slowly as it descends to the main floor, and you feel annoyed. You can practically feel Caleb's body temperature radiating off of him and onto you.
"Mind you stand so close?"
He blinks and takes a step toward the other wall, still being close to you, even though there's 4 steps' worth of space on his other side.
Fuck, you smell so good. He can't wait to get back home and beat his dick again.
The doors finally open, and you step out first, walking ahead of him hastily. He steps slowly, following you as you quietly rush away; the sight is so appealing. The way your hips sway, how your heels accentuate the plumpness of your ass, those thick thighs.
You're truly ethereal. How did he get so lucky to have you in his sights and living next door to him?
You threw the lobby door open, assuming that he was following behind you, and made a beeline down the road. Your heels clicked loudly against the concrete as you stepped hard.
He walked out and looked in one direction, but didn't see you. Then looked in the other and saw you walking down the street.
'Is she seriously going to get there, dressed like that at this time?' he thought, quickly turning around and walking around the corner to the dumpster. He threw the trash in, dropped the lid, rushed back into the building, and headed upstairs.
Your heels began to ache at the speed and harshness at which you were walking, but you couldn't stop. You kept checking your phone to see the time, and it showed '9:19' last time you checked.
'I still have enough time,' echoed in your head.
You get to the traffic light and press the button, waiting for it to turn green.
'Wheeeew!' a whistle rang out.
"Damn, momma! Where you tryna go tonight!" some drunkard asked, but you paid him no mind.
The light changes, and you quickly walk across, passing people going in the direction you came from. You held your purse and shawl close, texting Max that you're almost there.
'Ok! I'll be outside looking for you.' 9:22 PM.
You put your phone back in your bag and zip it up, looking around. The area progressively got darker, but you were determined to get there in one piece.
A car pulled up in front of you, and the window rolled down.
"Are you crazy?" you heard a familiar voice yell, and turned to see Caleb looking at you in the driver's seat through the passenger window.
"I don't have time for your shit, Caleb. I'm gonna be late." You turn away and continue your walk.
He follows after you, looking between the road and at you, "at least let me drop you off. I'd feel better knowing you got to wherever you're going safely."
You ignore him.
He sighs and keeps driving beside you. "You don't want to be late, do you?"
You take your phone out of your purse again and check the time.
9:27.
Shit, you have 3 minutes to get there, and at the rate you're walking in and the pain in your feet, you won't make it. You sigh and stop moving, slowly turning to him and glaring.
-
You gave him the address, and he knew immediately where to go. The ride is short, but you feel like the minutes are dragging by slowly.
"You weren't going to make it there, even at the speed you were going, because of those shoes," he softly says.
You don't respond, then look out the window and see the building and Max up ahead.
Caleb pulls up to the curb in front of the entrance and puts the car in park.
"Thank you," you glance at him before quickly getting out, not giving him the chance to say anything else.
He watches you greet a man, whom he assumes is your coworker, and sighs, unconsciously gripping the steering wheel as he drives off.
-
"Who was that?"
"Just my neighbor. He offered to drive me over here because I walked most of the way," you walk in before him after he held the door open.
You asked him to check if you were fit to meet the others, but he rolled his eyes and said you looked perfect.
"And why didn't you tell me you were going to walk here, especially in those? I could've picked you up," Max looks at you in disbelief.
"It's not that serious, really," you wave it off and let him guide you to the table.
"Oh, good! You made it!" his mom beamed, getting up to kiss your cheeks.
You learned a while back that Italians love to kiss and touch, those being one of their ways they greet each other.
"Oh, please call me Famina," she smiles brightly as she takes you away. Making Max groan in annoyance.
The nine of them chat away about upcoming events and family drama. You try not intrude and just observe, eating and taking a sip of your wine.
Max nudges you and asks, "How are you doing?"
"I'm doing alright. The tortellini is delicious," you nod.
"I mean, with my family and all," he chuckles.
"Oh, I'm still alright. I wasn't really listening to anything going on. I didn't want to be nosy."
"They love telling everyone's business. Even if you're not trying to eavesdrop, they'll drag you into it anyway," he gives a lopsided smile.
"Hey, Max! Is this your girlfriend?" His cousin comes over, reaching his hand out to shake yours.
"No, this is my coworker and friend," he quickly denies, trying not to embarrass you anymore.
"This is my cousin, Giuseppe," he says as you shake the boy's hand.
"Pleased to meet you, lovely lady," he brings your knuckle to his lips and kisses it.
"Likewise," you try not to grimace and smile.
"Giuseppe, get over here and talk to your aunt Famina," his mom yells, glaring at her son.
You stifle a chuckle and watch her son rush over, avoiding the death stare his mom was giving him.
"I'm happy you came," you look over to Max, who's staring at you.
"I haven't done much, though?"
He shakes his head with a soft smile on his face, "You being here is enough."
And for the first time in a long time, your heart fluttered. You give him a surprised look, returning his expression and nodding a bit.
-
Caleb sat in the living room, waiting for your return. He saw how close you were with the guy and felt a pang in his heart. Is that all it took for you to be at his side? Is that all Caleb had to do for you to be as close to him as you were with your coworker?
He sighed and tilted his head back, resting the back of his hands on his forehead as he stared at the ceiling. He was supposed to be jerking off to the image of you walking away from him earlier, but his stupid feelings got in the way, so now he's irritated.
He's tried going without sex before. The longest he lasted was 2 weeks. He's tried talking to therapists and doctors, trying to find any remedy or medication to subdue the need, but nothing works. He just likes the way his body feels when he's balls deep in some pussy, he can't help it. It feels good, especially the post-nut clarity, depending on how good the pussy was, of course. But his mind would remind him that, even if he was calling those girls by your name or fucking a pocket pussy, it wasn't yours. It would never be yours for as long as you hated him.
And that thought was the quickest way his hard-on would deflate.
He heard light footsteps in the hallway and recognized them as yours, jumping up at the speed of light to greet or tease you.
But as soon as he opened the door, he saw you walking next to that same guy.
What the hell?
He cracked his front door open a teeny bit so he could watch you two.
"Thanks again for inviting me," he heard your angelic voice.
"Anytime. My mom loves having you around. Maybe a bit too much," you both chuckle, as you pull your keys out.
"And thanks for walking me back to my door."
"I just wanted to make sure you got home safely," the guy says as you turn to him.
He watches you stare at each other for a moment too long and squints his eyes. That's when he notices it.
He's going in for a kiss, and Caleb whips the door open, ready to cockblock him, when you press your hand on the guy's chest.
Caleb quickly closes the door, just enough to see through it.
"I-I'm sorry, I misinterpreted-"
"It's not that," your voice softens. "I'm... not used to that kind of thing."
"Oh."
"It's been a... really long time since I've kissed someone, and with the way my life's been going, I haven't bothered to... entertain that aspect of it." Your eyes shift away from him.
He nods a bit, stuffing his hands in his pocket, "I understand."
You give him a pitiful smile and a silent 'thank you', reach for the doorknob, and turn it. "Goodnight, Max."
"Goodnight. Sweet dreams," he watches as you walk in and close the door, locking it afterwards.
Caleb hears him curse under his breath as he walks down the hall, likely embarrassed by the rejection. A silent cheer rang out in his head as the 'Max' guy disappeared into the elevator.
He heard your front door open and pretended to go out at the same time as you.
But you stand there with an "are you serious?" expression on your face, waiting until his face appears in front of you.
"I see you made it ba-"
You raise your hand to shut him up, "Save the bullshit, Caleb." His lips pursed immediately.
"What's wrong with you?" "What do you mean?"
"I mean, why the hell were you watching us?" "I wasn't doing that!"
"Lie again," your arms cross as you glare at him. "I'ma take my heel off and throw it at you.
"You guys were loud!-" "Barely."
He scratches the back of his neck, feeling flustered, "At least you didn't kiss him. That's a good thing, for you, I mean. Right?"
You don't say anything and turn back into your apartment, slamming the door.
-
You finished undressing and sat on your bed, fixing your moomoo so it was loose and easy to move around in. You never got to open your mail or the packages, so you were doing that now. You opened the first package and saw a bracelet.
The one you saw at the mall a couple of weeks ago.
Your eyebrows knit together as you try to figure out who saw you, knew where you lived, and bought this for you. You still didn't want to assume it was Braintree or Sunderland, and the possibility of it being Caleb was unlikely. The dude's head is filled with nothing but lifting weights and fucking women.
Could it be Max?
...Nah, you just started talking to him again after a while, so you cross him off the list.
You put the bracelet on your unoccupied wrist and open up the next package. It was a lightweight, but big bag. Your fingers ripped the packaging apart and saw fabric.
It was dresses. Four of them. Particularly, the ones you told Miss Shepard from 578 about when you ran into her the other day in the lobby.
Their earthy designs captivated your heart when you saw them on BuysLy a few days ago; you just had to get them. But, with your bills stacking up, you didn't have enough to get them.
You wish you knew who was getting you all these things so you could thank them. But give them back because you didn't want someone spending their money on you, especially if it was some older creep.
The following package was a box, also quite heavy and large. You untie the ribbon, take off the lid, set it aside, and unwrap the tissue paper. Inside was a pair of shoes, specifically the limited-edition World Girl pair from 2009.
There were only 400 in the world, so someone must've paid an absolute fortune for these.
Now you really feel bad and are still weirded out by the amount of money this mysterious person spent on you.
You put the gorgeous shoes back in the box, put the lid on, and set it on the ground next to the nightstand. You put the dresses back in their bag and toss them onto the shoebox.
The last package rested in your lap, slightly heavy as you tore it open.
A vase, for one of your special flowers.
You kept talking about needing one, but you never told anyone about it, even this specific one.
The design was a koi fish with beautiful red flowers that bloomed toward the opening. You saw it the other day at the thrift store, but were in a hurry to leave for work, so you didn't end up getting it.
You lay the vase on the ground beside the shoe box and put the packaging on top of the one with the dresses in it. A tired sigh releases from your lips as you lie back, turning off your lamp and preparing to fall asleep.
-
You woke up the next morning and groaned, looking at the time and seeing 6:34 AM. You didn't have work for the next two days, so the plan, for now, was to catch up on sleep. You turn back over and start drifting back to dreamland.
Until your phone started ringing.
Your eyes shot open as you stared at the ceiling.
Who the hell is calling at 6 in the fucking morning.....
You slowly turned your head toward the sound and picked up the device.
Likely Scam.
You end the call, put the device down, and get comfortable once more, closing your eyes.
BRIIING!
You sigh and reach your arm back, knocking over your empty glass as you grab your phone. Your blurry vision caught the contact's name.
Likely Scam.
You turn the ringer off and stare at the call, waiting for it to end. After 30 seconds or so, the line ends, and you get another 'missed call' notification. You sigh once more and move to put the phone back on the nightstand when it vibrates.
"For the love of-"
"HELLO?!" Your face contorts in irritation.
"Hey, are you up?" It was Caleb.
"How the hell did you even get my number???"
"I asked Miss Shepard from 578 for it the other day," he says as if it were a casual thing for him to do that.
That old, fucking-
"Why are you calling at 6 in the fucking morning, Caleb?" Your hand covers your eyes.
"I couldn't sleep-"
"You called me... at 6 in the morning… because you couldn't sleep?" Your tone hardens. "Put some fucking music on and go to bed."
"But, you're up," he whines.
"I WASN'T UNTIL YOU CALLED," he can hear you from the other side of the wall and quietly chuckles.
"Well, now that you're up, we can hang-"
Click!
He stares at his phone and blinks. His fingers move to call your number again, but when he does,
"Sorry. The number you are calling is out of service."
Did she block me? Damn, she's fast.
Caleb rolls his eyes and knocks on the wall.
You're staring at the window, hearing a knocking sound from the living room. You're gonna beat his ass. You need to.
He keeps knocking until you do something, and you do. Thrashing around as you get out of bed, the blanket tangles your limbs and pisses you off even more. You walk out of the room and harshly throw on your robe, your slippers sliding against the carpet.
You grab your keys, unlock the front door, and throw it open, slamming it shut. Just as you're about to pound on his door, he opens it with a smile, "Hi, neigh-"
"Shut up! Okay? Just shut up! Can you NOT go a whole day without pissing me off?" You glare at him, just enraged by his idiocy.
"I love teasing you, though." His voice softens as he leans against his doorframe and crosses his covered, muscular arms over his chest. "You're so cute when you're angry."
You want to beat his face in even more.
"Knock it off, Caleb. Get one of your whores to keep you entertained because I'm not the one." You step back toward your apartment when you're pulled back.
"What- mmf!" A hand covers your mouth as you're dragged into the dark room, hearing the door close and lock behind you.
Caleb takes his hand off your mouth and rests it on your waist while his other presses against your stomach, "see? My apartment's not a mess after all!"
You turn around and look up at him, glaring like it's going to kill him, "Oh, don't look at me like that! At least compliment the place!"
You move to leave, but he blocks the way. "Ok, ok, I'll stop joking around." He gestures for you to sit on the couch, and you suck on your teeth, turning around and walking over to the living room.
"This is considered kidnapping, you know," you bluntly tell him, plopping down on the couch.
"Is it? You seemed to be fine with coming in here." He ignores your intense gaze and sits next to you.
"What do you want, Caleb?" He grunts a bit.
"I just wanted to hangout with my favorite neighbor!"
"At 6 in the fucking morning," you stare at the TV, feeling tired and dead.
"Yup!" his arm rests on the top of the couch, behind your shoulders.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you when I wake up again."
"Shhh, just watch the movie," but you can't.
You yawn and hunch over, cupping your head as your eyes begin to droop. Just two minutes in and you're out like a light.
Caleb looks over and smiles softly, barely pushing your body over so you fall into him. He adjusts the blanket so it drapes over you, then keeps his arms to himself. His heart flutters as he rubs his cheek atop your head, glad to be so close to you.
-
He woke up to you lying on his chest. The sight made him blush, and his heart raced as he gently pressed his hand on your mid-back. The TV quietly played aquatic music, likely because there had been no activity for a while. And for the first time in a long time, Caleb was genuinely happy.
Sure, he's happy every time he sees you, talks to you, teases you enough to piss you off. But this moment here? It beat those by a long shot. He ever so gently laid his lips on top of your head, smelling the scent of your hair’s moisturizer. He nuzzled his cheek against the spot he kissed.
The girl who took his heart was finally in his house, lying against him, not yelling or blowing a fuse at him for a snarky comment he made. Just calm and quiet. He relishes the sound of your breathing and your heart thumping softly against his abdomen. Everything felt right, tranquil. The current environment made him feel at ease for the first time in years.
His hands grasped your waist, and he carefully laid you on the couch, resting your head on a pillow and covering you more with the blanket. He got up and went to use the bathroom. Cleaning up and walking out to the kitchen. He planned on making breakfast for the two of you, something he never did with any of the girls.
Being as quiet as possible, he moved around the kitchen, getting ingredients, then putting them back. Taking out the skillet and turn on the stove. He worked quickly and efficiently, checking the time to see that it was 9 AM. He knew your schedule, don’t ask how, and knew you didn't work today, so it'd be a lazy day for the two of you.
Caleb would peek out of the kitchen now and then to see if you were still asleep, smiling, even when you hadn't moved. He flips the pancakes and turns the bacon over, then reaches into the cabinet to retrieve two cups. He steps toward the refrigerator, takes out the orange juice he bought the other day, and pours it into the cups.
You woke up a couple of hours later to the smell of something mouthwatering. Your stomach grumbled, and you swallowed, lubricating your dry throat. Your eyes opened and saw a couch cushion in your face.
It doesn't look familiar.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you slowly turn your head and see that you're, in fact, not in your apartment, and jolt upwards. You were in Caleb’s apartment. A yawn came out, and you looked down, trying to find your slippers. Thinking they’re probably at the door, you get up and step over, fixing your headscarf and robe.
Caleb hears movement and peeks out, smiling a bit when he sees you awake. He plates the food and puts the skillet in the sink before stepping out.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty!”
Your wide eyes and blank face stare at him, moving around him to leave. But his arm curls around your midsection, making you stop.
“Stay. I made us breakfast.” His voice softens.
“I’m not hungry-”
“Pleaaaase! I promise the food is good and not poisonous!”
You roll your eyes, trying to get away. He ends up kneeling to the ground, wrapping his arms around your thighs.
“Caleb, get the hell up.”
“Not until you agree to stay and eat with me.” He gives you puppy dog eyes.
“Why are you so adamant about this?” You side-eye him, who’s peeking around your hip.
Fuck, your ass is in his face.
“Get the hell up, Caleb.” You try to move, but his grip tightens.
“Please stay…” You catch the shift in his tone. “It’s my first time having you in here, and I’m trying to be a good host!”
“You can be a good host by letting me leave!”
“Not until you’ve eaten!”
You sigh and slump a bit, knowing you won’t get anywhere because of his childishness.
“Fine.” He beams and jumps up, dragging you over to the dining table to sit.
You watch him disappear into the kitchen and come back with two plates, setting one in front of you and the other across. He leaves again and returns with two cups of orange juice. You carefully pick up the utensils and stare tiredly at the food, its aroma filling your nose as you pour syrup over the pancakes. The fork and knife stab into them, and you cut a piece to eat.
“Is it good?” His eyes shine with curiosity.
“Yes.” Then sparkle.
He hums and eats one of the pieces of bacon on his plate. You look between the TV and your plate, not glancing much at him. But you sense his gaze on you.
"What?" You say, not looking at him as you bite into a bacon piece.
"Just admiring my favorite neighbor," he said.
You slowly stop eating. "What did you do?"
He frowns, "nothing. Can't I adore my beautiful neighbor?"
"No." You take a moment to chew the last bite, looking down at your plate again.
"What'd you put in here?"
"Nothing! I swear!" he pouts, "Do you really think I'd do something like that?"
"I don't know you. We've only been neighbors for 3 years, and in that time, you've been a gnat." You put your fork down and wipe your mouth before standing up.
"Thanks for breakfast. I'm going back."
"Hey, wait-" He stands just as quick and grabs your wrist.
"Let go, Caleb."
"Hang on a second, would you?" His eyes shift downward like a sad puppy.
You turn and glare at him, but it turns to confusion when he pulls you close. "The hell are you doing?"
"You're so hostile to me, and I haven't done anything for this to be warranted."
"YOU haven't done anything?" Your eyebrows raise like they're about to fly off your face. "You? Caleb Xia? YOU haven't done anything?" Your eyes squint up at him.
"What could I have done to you that makes you act like this towards me?" his composure slips as a subtle crack in his voice comes out.
"So, we're just gonna act like you don't play with people's feelings? Like, you don't be sleeping around? Like, you don't be loud as fuck on purpose when you're banging these girls? You know these walls are thin as hell!"
"Like, you flirt with me knowing I have never, and will never, entertain any of that shit. You can't even have a normal conversation with me."
"Because you don't let me, sweetheart-"
"Don't call me that," comes out as a hiss, and you push against him, trying to get him to let go.
"We've been neighbors for 3 and a half years. You could've TRIED to have a NORMAL conversation, and not think with your dick, in those years we've seen each other. So, you can't sit up here and try to use THAT as an excuse." Your eyes rest, staring at him blankly.
"Okay. I'm sorry for flirting with you." He closes his eyes.
"You're not even sorry, you're just saying shit." You turn away from him to leave, but he holds you back.
He sighs heavily, "I'm not just saying that. I do mean it." His voice softens.
"But, besides that, what else do I do that bothers you so much?" His head tilts to the side a bit, his body leaning down just an inch, like he's trying to get through to you.
"You just..." You look down and away.
"You're annoying. Every single time I leave my house, you're there. Teasing me, bothering me, being weird. I could be having a bad day, and you make it worse." He feels his heart crack. That playful nature is long gone since this conversation started.
"I've been getting these... beautiful, but weird gifts. And I have no idea who they're coming from. So, it doesn't help that, also, someone's stalking me." Yeah, it's me.
His grip loosened just enough for you to brush his arms off and back away.
"You keep asking why I am the way I am towards you... I don't like people messing with me in that way. If you feel... something, then say it. Don't be weird and have your fucking dick lead the conversation because you're just wasting people's time." You look up at him, irritated.
"I stopped dating when guys constantly asked me to be their girlfriend or go on dates, just to find out they only wanted sex... I see them in you... Every time you talk to me. How you act one minute, then behave the next. You're just… weird."
"Using flirtation to communicate with me is just sending mixed signals. If you want to talk, you use your words. You're a grown ass man, Caleb." Your eyebrows furrow in frustration.
He looks down at the ground, "I'm not flirting with you just to get in your pants. I flirt with you because I like you."
You stare at him, "Has it ever occurred to you that you can like someone without being weird about it? And if you really wanted me, you wouldn't just flirt with me, then turn around and bang some chick you met 10 minutes ago. That's literally sending mixed signals, Caleb. I shouldn't have to figure out if you like me or just want to fuck. That's stupid, and a waste of my time and energy that I could be putting to other things."
He goes to speak, but you're quicker, "and if you like me, but you know I don't like how you act, then why do you keep acting like that? Why not do something else to impress me?"
Your arms cross under your chest, "I shouldn't have to teach you how to ask someone out properly. I shouldn't have to explain how to tell a girl you like her. You should want to want me, and only me. You should want to be with me and only me. All of that and the things leading up to a relationship should come naturally… But, at the same time, how can I trust your words if you're... you?"
"We're completely different people, Caleb. You have needs, and I have priorities. Whatever it is you want, I can't give you that." Your voice softens.
"What if all I want is love? What if all I want is love from you?" His eyes soften significantly as he stares into yours.
"Then, sorry, but you suck at showing it. I can't tell if you like me or if you just wanna mess around, and you act like that because that's how you communicate... I don't fucking know, Caleb." You shrug, throwing your hands up.
He rubs his nape, looking away from you. He has needs, yes. His addiction has taken a toll on his life, and he can't seem to live without it. But he wants to be with you. He wants to go down to the deepest parts of you and know everything about you. He wants to love you forever.
He looks at you, who's looking somewhere down his hallway, and sighs. "I'm... really sorry I made you think otherwise."
You don't say anything and glance up at him. His eyes meet yours, and oddly enough, he means it.
"I do like you. A lot... Ever since you first moved in next door, I...I've had a huge crush on you." You watch his face redden, his bangs rubbing against his eyelashes.
"I have a nasty addiction to sex. It's been like that for a while now... and I try to fix it through working out and medication, but it's never enough..." He sits in the chair you sat in at the table.
"I talk to my therapist and doctor. I do what they say, take the medicine they give me…, but it's not enough."
"That's not something I can help you with, Caleb. Unless you asked me for advice or suggestions, then maybe. And even then, whatever I have for ideas might not even work."
"I-I know you can't help me…"
His hand reaches out in front of you, the palm facing up. "…May I?"
You hesitantly step forward and slowly put your hand in his. "Gods, you're so soft…"
His thumb gently strokes the top of your hand, just staring at it. He brings your hand to his face to smell it, the smell of your lotion driving him crazy.
"I want this. I really do… I want you." He looks up at you, and you meet his eyes. "I know I have a lot of work to do to earn your trust… But, please. Let me try…"
You shift your gaze from his left eye to his right. Your voice softens as you say, "Don't make me regret this," before turning away to leave.
And he lets you.
-
You lean back against your front door inside your apartment, letting out a deep sigh. You pushed yourself off, walking over to your room and plopping down on the bed. The conversation you had with Caleb was replaying in your mind. But now a new question formed in your mind.
Did you like Caleb?
You can admit that he's attractive… and tall. But, is he someone you can truly see yourself in a relationship with? How do you know he won't relapse and cheat on you with the next girl he sees? A man can say he wants you, but if he isn't willing to do things to keep you, then there's no point in wasting time with him.
You roll over onto your back and stare at the ceiling. Your hand shifts around the bed for the remote, but you don't feel it. You sit up and look over at the nightstand, reach for the remote, and turn on the TV. Your thumbs move to Music Choice and play the instrumental section, then you get out of bed and walk over to your desk. You leaned down a bit to pick up your notebook, then grabbed a pen and got back on the bed to start journaling.
January 30th,
I spent the morning at Caleb's. Not intentionally, the idiot got my number from that Miss Shepard downstairs. He called me at 6 this morning because he was "bored" and wouldn't stop banging on the wall until I went over there. But I ended up falling asleep when I got there, so not much happened. I woke up and realized I actually was in his place. That it wasn't a dream. I don't even remember falling asleep, but I guess it's because I was tired from the night before. I tried to leave, but he kept begging me to have breakfast with him, and he was so annoying that he wouldn't shut up. So, I ate with him. Then we finally had a conversation. It wasn't the greatest, but it needed to be had. He told me how he felt about me and why he talks to me the way he does. Why he acts the way he does, he likes me. But he has a sex addiction. He told me he talks to a therapist, tries working out, and takes medication to subdue the urges, but they aren't effective. I told him I could help, but I couldn't guarantee my methods would work. He says he wants this, wants me… wants this to work. But I can't tell if he's being serious or just saying that to get some pussy. I'm just tired of being used. Tired of my time being wasted. I've done the dates, done the relationships, but never the sex. And… I'm not sure I ever will. I told him not to make me regret giving him a chance. It's been a long time since my last heartbreak, but they all start the same: they find a pretty girl, have sex with her, then claim they never meant to cheat. Or, they waste my time through dates and meaningless conversations for days or weeks, until they try to make a move, and I'm not fucking with it. They're all the same. They only go for girls they know are "hard to crack." They only go for girls they know will be loyal. It's all bullshit, the dating world is a load of bullshit, and I don't know if I can even do this, with Caleb and all… But a part of me wants to try. A tiny part of me still has hope… that maybe he does mean it. That maybe he is serious about wanting this…
You sigh and stare at the book for a moment before closing it, then tossing it onto the dresser. You lie back and turn the TV up a bit more, letting the music cloud your mind and help you sleep.
-
Caleb puts his shoes and headphones on, zipping up his jacket and throwing his drawstring bag over his back. He steps out of the apartment and locks the door, then makes his way over to the elevator. 3 women step out of the lift, continuing their conversation, and notice him walking towards them.
"Hi, Caleb!" they wave excitedly, and he acknowledges them, but doesn't say anything as he walks past them.
They whisper amongst themselves about whether or not he's okay. He steps into the lift and presses the button to close the doors quickly. He stares at his reflection in the elevator doors and thinks back to the conversation.
"I stopped dating when guys constantly asked me to be their girlfriend or go on dates, just to find out they only wanted sex."
"I see them in you…"
"I can't tell if you like me or if you just wanna mess around."
The elevator descended to the main floor and came to an abrupt stop before the doors opened. He walked out and made his way to the entrance. The walk to the gym wasn't far, so he didn't take his car. He stepped outside and looked both ways before walking down the street to the gym. When he got there, he went to his usual spot, put his bag down next to the bench, then moved to the weight rack and grabbed some plates. He put 3 weights on both sides, each plate heavier than the day before. He sat down and turned on his music, the aggression of the rock singer's voice, mixed with rap beats, filling his ears and entangling with the emotions he had been feeling since this morning. Emotions he had done his best to suppress. He lay back and put his hands on the barbell, lifting it off the hooks and starting his reps.
-
You opened your eyes and looked out the window, slowly sitting up and wiping your mouth of the drool that leaked out. A shallow exhale released as you swung your legs over the bed, feeling your slippers under your feet. You picked up your phone and checked the time, reading '3:17 PM.' You didn't realize you slept long, so you accidentally skipped lunch. You got up and walked out to the kitchen to make something to eat. The smell of spices and cooking meat fills the air after you throw some ground beef in the pan. You turned the stove knob to low before exiting the kitchen to use the bathroom.
Caleb walked into his apartment and closed the door, getting situated before walking to the dining table. He put the flowers on it, then went to his room and took out some fresh clothes before showering.
You washed your hands and face, then dried them and hung the towel, left the bathroom, and went back to the kitchen to check on the food.
Caleb washed the soap out of his hair and face, feeling relieved by the hot water. He sighed and looked down, seeing his cock harden from the temperature and turning the dial to cold.
You turned off the stove, put the food in the bowl, washed the pan, and then put it in the dishwasher. You stepped toward the refrigerator, opened the door, grabbed a bottle of sparkling water, and then closed the door. You took your bowl and went to the living room, turning on the TV. You let out a puff of air onto the food before sticking the spoon in your mouth, blowing the food around because you hadn't blown on it enough.
Caleb picked up the flowers and walked to the front door, opened it, and stepped out. He closed the door, then took a few steps to stand in front of your door.
'Breathe, Caleb. You're just giving her flowers.'
His hand came up and carefully knocked on the door, his palms sweating and heart racing from the anxiety.
You look over at the door and slowly stop chewing, putting your bowl on the table before getting up and shuffling over to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw someone looking down. The closer you look, you realize it's Caleb. You step back a bit and stare at the door before taking a deep breath, opening the door, and peeking your head out.
Caleb's head snaps up, and your eyes meet. "H-Hi," his voice is quiet, but you still notice the slight tremor.
"Hi.." You stared up at him with those pretty, doe eyes that had him swooning since day 1.
"I ... I just came back from the gym, and a street vendor was selling flowers…" You open the door a bit wider, and he notices you're still in your pajamas. How cute.
"I saw them and thought about you.. I mean, I always do, but-" he sighs, his hand reaches out, holding the bundle of flowers.
"Sorry… didn't mean to say that-"
You look at the bouquet and admire the vibrant colors, but notice something was off about them. Your hand reaches out and pulls the bouquet forward; your fingers brush against his.
"Is something wrong? I-I can take it back if-" You snatch them from him, flustering and surprising him even more.
"… thank you.." His hand falls to his side after he nods.
"Ahem.. I'll see you later then!" He turns a bit and steps toward his front door, walking into his apartment, then closing the door.
You stepped back and closed the door, locking it, then walked over to the coffee table. You lay the flowers on the table and take your seat back on the couch, grabbing your bowl of food. They were fake. But you didn't say anything because you know he's trying, and he probably doesn't even know they're fake.
Caleb leaned against his front door, staring up at the ceiling. Give her flowers? Check. Next on the list? Get to know her, and what better way to do that than to go on a date? After removing his shoes, he walked over to his room, stepped in, closed the door, and changed his clothes again. He took his phone out of his pants pocket and lay on the bed. He looked at the time and saw it was reaching 4 PM, but he was so tired. If he slept now, he'd be up all night.
He shook his head and clenched his jaw, hearing the thoughts of sex forming in his mind again.
Stop. We said we were going to do better. For her.
He turned on the TV and put on a random movie, then turned on his bedside lamp so he could stay awake a little longer.
The evening went by slowly. You both were tired, he from going to the gym and you for no reason, really. You both fought to stay awake, knowing that if you slept now, you'd be awake when it's time for bed. But exhaustion overcame both of you, and before either of you knew it, you were falling asleep.
-
You opened your eyes to a room that had grown darker than before. You checked the time and saw '9:03 PM' displayed in bright colors. You weren't supposed to fall asleep, but you oddly felt exhausted. Maybe it was the conversation with Caleb early this morning that had taken a toll on your psyche. Whatever the case, you got up and yawned, stretching before getting out of bed and walking out of the room. You looked at your altar and walked over to it, deciding to clean it up after a week. You removed the items, placed them on the coffee table, and then took the tray of offerings to the kitchen. You usually put old offerings in a jar, then take them outside and bury them. You took the filled jar out from under the sink, opened it, added the old offerings, and closed it.
Caleb stared at the TV in the living room, having just woken up from a nap. He knew he shouldn't have gone to bed because he would fall asleep as soon as his body hit the covers. His eyes moved from the large screen to the small screen of his phone, debating whether or not to text you. Were you awake right now? It was only 9 after all, and you didn't work tomorrow. He decided to take a risk and text you.
"Hey, you up?" sent.
Message not sent!
You still had him blocked.
He sighed and leaned back, letting his head thump against the wall.
You hear a sound and look over in the living room. Nothing looked out of place, but then again, some things were on the ground, so maybe something fell over.
Caleb got up from the couch and paced around the room. He wants to see you, but he doesn't want to bug you anymore than he already has.
You took the cake you bought the other day out of the fridge, cut a slice, and added it to the tray of offerings. You put the cake back, pick up the tray, and walk back to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table.
Caleb put on his socks and walked to his front door, opened it, and stepped out. He closed it and locked it, taking a few steps toward your door.
You stopped humming when you heard the sound of knocking at your door. You stood and tied it before walking over. You look through the peephole and see Caleb standing there. Your fingers move to unlock the door and open it, peeking your head out.
"Hey..."
"Hi...?"
"What are you doing?" he says, sounding and looking nervous.
"I'm just cleaning some things... Why are you here?"
"N-No reason! Just wanted to see what my neighbor was doing!" Your eyes squint a bit. He stares at you with wide eyes and an awkward smile.
"... Do you want to come in...?" You eye him down and up.
"May I? I-I promise I'll keep my hands to myself!" He blurted out, as if anticipating this.
You sigh and step aside, letting him dash in before closing the door.
Caleb feels like he just walked into the World of Tranquility. Your place was damn near what he imagined it'd be. The smell of incense filled his nose, and he felt at ease once more.
"Why aren't you wearing shoes?" Your monotone pulls him out of his mind.
"O-Oh, I just woke up... Not really thinking clearly." He rigidly stands by the door.
"Go sit down on the couch, and don't touch anything." You glare at him, making him nod with urgency and rush over there.
Caleb carefully sat on the couch and looked around the living room. He saw food on a tray and pictures with small statues beside them, all on the coffee table. The cake looks too good, he's almost tempted to take a bite.
As if reading his mind, you walk over to him with a small plate and a slice of cake on it.
"Are you allergic to anything?"
"N-No..? Not that I know of, at least," his hands raise as you hold the plate out to him. He quietly thanks you and eats it.
He watches as you assemble a table that appears to make an altar in the corner.
"Does it smell strong in here?" You asked him with your back facing him.
"No. It smells nice..." his voice quieted.
"It's frankincense and dragon's blood." He sees the smoke rising in front of you, then looks back down at the cake.
It's quiet between you two, with the sound of a bell clinging around and soft music playing from your TV. Caleb likes this. He likes it very much. He eats the last bit of cake and sets the plate on the coffee table, sitting straight and back against the couch. You finish your altar and stand, grabbing a tablecloth to cover it. Caleb senses this is an intimate thing and doesn't question it, not wanting to piss you off again. He looks at the TV and watches colorful wavelengths move across the screen.
"You're not going to ask what I'm doing?" He looks over at you.
"I didn't want to piss you off again." He rubs the back of his neck.
"It's my ancestral altar. I go here to pray or ask my ancestors things..." He catches your soft voice and holds it close to his heart.
"It's nice." He's careful, but genuine with his words.
You don't respond and walk back to the kitchen, taking his plate with you. He can't help but look at your ass and feels his mouth water at the sight.
Focus, Caleb! You were doing so well earlier. Do NOT fuck this up.
You come back and sit on the chair next to the couch, facing him. "So why are you here again?"
He clears his throat, "I woke up a bit ago and was wondering if you were awake... I tried to text you, but it didn't go through."
Oh. You forgot you still had him blocked.
You got up, walked over to the counter, picked up your phone, and walked back to the chair. Your fingers moved quickly to find his number, unblock it, and then turn the device off.
"There." He nods and looks over at you once more. Now that he's in a neutral stance with you, he takes a good look at your face.
Those pretty eyes, plump lips, and that cute nose.
Everything about you was perfect, down to your attitude and way with words.
Some might call him a simp, but he doesn't even care at this point.
You both sit in another awkward silence, and he's trying to think of what to say. He's not used to this kind of thing, either.
"S-So, did you know that in aerodynamics, the-"
"Caleb..." You blink twice. "You were wondering why I was awake because... what?" He looks down at his fiddling hands.
"…I just wanted to be around you." He responds like a child being yelled at.
You lean back in the chair and lift your legs, hugging your knees. "Well... is there something you actually want to talk about? Or did you just want to be here?"
He looks at you, and you look at him. You stare at each other for a while before you look away, breaking him out of the trance you unintentionally put him under.
"It's getting late-"
"You just woke up, too, didn't you?" He randomly asks, making you look up.
"…I did…" You don't even bother to ask how he knows that.
"You have some marks on your cheek," He reaches over and grazes one with his finger.
You look at him a bit bewildered and turn your face a bit, feeling nervous before standing up.
"You should get some sleep." You say as you walk to your front door.
"But, I just woke up?" He stands up and slowly trails after you.
"Well, go back to sleep because I'm about to." You hold the door open for him.
He walks up to you and stops just at the entrance before looking down at you, "I… was wondering if you were busy this weekend?"
He's been speaking to you more softly lately, and you don't know how to feel about it, but it's making your heart race. "I get off at 5 on Saturday. Why?"
"Would you like to have dinner with me? There's this restaurant down the street I've been wanting to try, and I'd like to take you there."
Your blank expression shifts just a fraction, but he catches it. He senses there's some hesitation and gives a small smile, "No pressure, of course."
"…What time would you be going?" His heart skips a beat.
"Around 7:45?"
"You don't know?"
"I'm asking if that'd be a good time for you."
You look at the hallway carpet and nod. "7:45 on Saturday, it is then."
Overwhelmed by excitement, he leans down and kisses your forehead, "Goodnight~."
You stand there cupping your forehead in confusion and embarrassment, while he leaves for his apartment. You hear his door close, and you close yours soon after, still pressing your hand on your forehead.
Caleb smiles widely, feeling his face heat up as his mind catches up to what he just did. He walks over to his room, closes the door, and gets into bed under the covers.
Soon, his lips will touch yours, and it'll be the second-best thing ever, after getting you to not cut his balls off, of course.
-
Caleb was nervous. A day went by, and it was Saturday. He needed to make sure everything was perfect for you. He had been texting you all day yesterday and was excited for today. The to-do list he made the night before sat in front of him with 4 things listed:
Text her throughout the day. ✅
Buy her flowers. ✅
Set up another date?
Pop the question? Wait till after the 3rd date before asking!!
He wanted you to be his girlfriend already, but it had only been two days since you both started talking to each other civilly. He didn't want to rush you or scare you away, especially if you were still toning down your previous feelings towards him. He adjusted his suit's vest for the umpteenth time in 2 hours. The nervousness grew with each passing minute. He checked his watch, seeing he had 20 minutes to get the two of you to the restaurant, and looked around his place before jogging over to the bathroom and using it.
You brushed your hair, then fanned it out behind your shoulders. Your necklace rested above your chest, shining and scented with the protection oil you rubbed on it. You wore makeup that emphasized your eye shape and lips, adding a glossy sheen to the lipstick. You stepped out of the bathroom, your heels clicking loudly on the floor, and grabbed your purse, checked your body and face once more, then took your keys and opened your front door. You see Caleb standing in the hallway with another bouquet in his hand, and his other hand about to knock.
"H-Hi.." his voice shakes as his eyes look you up and down. "You're breathtaking…" he feels his heart thump harder.
You shyly look down, "thank you… You don't look bad yourself." You close your door and lock it.
You turn back to him, and he holds the flowers out to you, which you carefully take.
"Thank you…"
"No, thank you," he's practically giving you heart eyes.
He holds his arm out for you to take, and you do, walking next to him to the elevator. His steps are slow to match your speed, with you wearing heels and all, which he's absolutely getting hot over. Not to mention your makeup made your natural resting expression even more lethal, and he swore you were trying to hypnotize him.
You step into the elevator before him and press the 1st-floor button, with him standing next to you, a hand on your lower back as three other people step in. He moved to stand behind you and hovered both his hands over your hips.
"You guys goin' out for date night?" some guy said.
"Yes." You answer.
"Have fun! Lots of fun, if you know what I mean!" he winks at Caleb, who's glaring at him as if ready to kill him.
You awkwardly chuckle and wipe the smile off your face as soon as you turn away from the dude. The lift descends, and the room is quiet.
Until another person speaks.
"You know, I remember when I had my first date..." You sigh after hearing another person talk.
"A fine little lass, just like her," you assume they're talking to Caleb about you.
"She was good in bed, too," the guy says, as if he's reminiscing.
You feel the heat radiating off of Caleb, and turn your head a bit to see him ready to pounce on him any second. Unconsciously, you take one of Caleb's hands and hold it, making him shift his attention from the loser to you. The change in his demeanor is almost instant, and he steps a bit closer to you. It makes you realize the height difference between you two is significant.
The doors open, and the two of you step out first. Caleb keeps walking behind you to block your backside from the creep's gaze. His hand reaches out in front of you and grabs the handle of the entrance door, opening it for you. You walk out and look around. He takes your hand and guides you to the parking garage, where he parked.
"We got about 9 minutes to get there, but it shouldn't take us long." His voice remained soft.
You hum and follow him to the car, hearing him unlock it and watching him move in front of you to open the door. You silently thank him and step in, surprised when he leans in and buckles your seatbelt.
"You don't need to do that, Caleb."
"I want to." He pouts a bit, hearing the click of the belt's buckle locking in before pulling away and closing the door.
He jogs over and gets into the driver's seat, seeing you sitting proper and staring at the wall in front of the car.
-
You both make it to the restaurant just in time for the reservation. You walk in, arms linked, and Caleb speaks to the hostess. She guides you two to the area Caleb had requested for your date, and you look around, taking in the dark, elegant theme. The two of you make it to the table, and he helps you into your chair.
"The waiter will be here shortly to take your orders." She smiles before walking away.
The spot Caleb picked out was a little more private, but there was a window next to your table, so you had a perfect view of the city.
"See anything you like?" you heard him ask, and looked up from your menu.
"I'm thinking of the lobster linguini… what about you…?"
"I think I'll try the steak…," he glanced down at the menu as he spoke. Out of his peripheral vision, he sees the waiter coming over and sets the menu down.
"Good evening! My name's Joey, and I'll be your waiter! Are you guys ready to order, or do we need a little bit more time?"
"We're ready to order." He and Joey looked over at you as you spoke.
"I'll have a Dark 'n' Stormy and a water, and let's try the lobster linguini." You fold the menu and set it to the edge.
"Perfect! And for you, sir?"
"I'll take a Sprite, and do the steak with baked potato," the waiter writes down the order. "For the steak, let's have it well done," He folds his menu and puts it with yours, handing it to the waiter.
"Perfect. I'll get this to the chef and get you those drinks!" He takes the menus and hurries off.
Your hands rested on the table while you looked outside, suddenly feeling your right hand being lifted. You look over and see Caleb slowly intertwining his fingers with yours.
"I never knew you were a drinker," he lightly teased.
"I don't do it often, but it's been a while since I last had one."
"Rum right off the bat, hm?" he lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles, making you blink twice and look away, flustered.
"My cousin used to make strange concoctions frequently when I was in college." You glance at him as he messes with your fingers.
"What was college like for you?" He leans on the table, watching you.
"Ah.. it wasn't all that. I just stayed home most of the time and studied. There were times my cousin dragged me out to parties, but nothing crazy," you waved it off.
"Were you a party girl?" He lightly smirked, resting your hand on his cheek.
"Barely. I just stayed in the corner and watched everyone, really." Your thumb instinctively rubs his cheek, and he closes his eyes, leaning into your touch.
You don't know when it happened, maybe when you two were in the elevator earlier, but you feel yourself ease into him. Like you're supposed to be here with him or something. It's still a strange thing to be in this capacity with him, of all people.
The waiter comes back a little later with your drinks, and you thank him before he leaves. You pinch your straw and take a sip; the old, familiar taste of the liquor comes back to you, making you scrunch your face a bit.
"Too strong?" he looks over, curious and worried.
"A little bit. My taste buds have gotten used to not tasting alcohol in a while, so…" You tear the paper off another straw and dip it in your water, taking a sip and feeling a bit relieved.
You and Caleb talk about your lives and your hobbies or interests.
"I graduated from the DAA, then was recommended to the Farspace Fleet and have been there as a colonel since."
You look at him, perplexed, "You mean to tell me you get paid a fuck ton, and you're still living in the apartments?"
"Something was keeping me there. I couldn't just leave." He shrugged.
"What could possibly keep you from moving out into your own home?" You squint your eyes at him.
"You."
You stare at him, like really look at him, and he stares back, his inner eyebrows raising a bit.
"You should've left a while ago." You take a sip of your drink.
"I would've gone back to an empty home every time I got off work." He shakes his head, "I didn't want that."
"But, you come home to an empty place now. Most of the time anyway."
"But I get to see you, no? We leave the house almost at the same time, and have been for a while now." Your hands fold and rest in front of you.
"Don't let me hold you back from living your life, Caleb." He dryly chuckles.
"I want you to." His hands reach out and grasp yours.
"I want you to ruin me, as you have been for the last 3 and a half years." He pulls your hands toward his face and kisses them.
"Caleb-" The waiter comes back and carefully sets your food down in front of the two of you.
"Enjoy! And press the button if you need anything!" You both thank him, and he scurries off.
"Your food looks good," he says, looking down at your plate.
"I hope it's as good as it looks." You unfold the napkin and take out the utensils, using the knife and fork to cut the pasta. He cuts into his steak and holds a piece out after you finish twirling some noodles on your fork.
"Cheers!" You lightly chuckle and poke his piece of steak with your noodles.
The two of you spent the next hour chatting and eating, with laughter occasionally filling the space. After you finished eating, the waiter came by and asked if you'd both be getting dessert, and despite you being full, Caleb decided to take some to-go. He ordered a slice of German Chocolate cake. You both talked a bit more about current events and your thoughts on them. You realize that Caleb is a lot smarter than you initially thought, only because he appeared as those red pill gym bros who only care about getting pussy.
After the waiter came back with the to-go bag of cake, the two of you got up to leave, with Caleb holding his other arm out again for you to hold. You both go to the front, where he pays for the bill, after playful banter about you paying your half.
You both leave, walking slowly to the car because you're full and too tired to walk, but Caleb becomes daring and lifts you off the ground.
"What the heck are you doing?!" you quietly hiss at him.
"You said you're tired? I'm helping!"
"Caleb, put me down!" You whine.
"Mmm? Nope!" He triumphantly walks to the car with you in his arms, holding you like a new husband with his wife. Your left hand rests on the crevice between his neck and shoulder, and he keeps you close. You look like a princess in his arms. You're lucky that your dress was down to your ankles because if it were shorter, anybody might be able to see your panties.
You make it to the car, and Caleb sadly puts you down, unlocking the door and holding it open for you. You get in and hug the to-go bag, letting him buckle you in again. He leans back and closes the door, going around and getting in the driver's side.
"I'm beat," you say quietly, tilting your head back against the headrest.
He smiles and glances at you as he starts the car, "Rest your eyes for a bit." You hum, already doing that.
You accidentally fell asleep and woke up to a beautiful sight. The moon is shining bright with little stars scattered around it. Your chair had been leaned back, and a jacket was draped over your body. You turn your head to see Caleb staring at you, his phone dimly highlighting his face.
"Well, hello, sleepyhead." He leans closer and stares into your eyes, "You're so beautiful, you know?" You lightly nod.
"Thank you…" Your voice comes out quietly, but he still catches it.
His hand lifts and carefully grazes your cheek, making you close your eyes at the impact, then open them again. You look in his eyes too, watching the purple orbs shift around at your face. He's contemplating something, you think. His eyes move down to your lips, then back to your eyes, before he softly asks.
"May I?" You hesitate, just a millisecond longer than you were supposed to, and he senses it.
But you give him a nod anyway, and he leans forward,
laying a kiss on your pretty lips.
-
He steps out of the elevator with you in his arms. The bouquet he gave you earlier rests in your lap along with your right hand and purse. He walks up to his door and unlocks it, stepping in and being careful not to hit your head on the doorframe. He uses his foot to quietly close the door, turning around to lock it before walking over to his bedroom. Your eyes peek open a bit as he leads you down the hall, confusion and a hint of fear forming in your mind.
Is he gonna…?
No.
He lays you on the bed, goes to his closet, slides the door open, takes some clothes off the hangers, and slides the door closed. He turns around and approaches the bed, "You wanna change your clothes, honey?" He speaks so softly, and it shows on his face, too.
You sit up, fix your hair, and get up to grab the clothes. "Bathroom's down the hall, I'll be outside of it if you need anything."
You don't say anything and walk out of the room, moving to the bathroom and closing the door once you're in. He dashes to the kitchen, takes a cup from the cabinet, fills it with water, and turns the light off as he leaves. He sets the cup down on the nightstand and goes to find medicine for a possible headache you might have. You walk out of the bathroom in one of his sweatpants and a shirt, and he finds you adorable.
"Aw, sweetheart," he whispers as you walk over to the bed and plop on it. You didn't notice the small trash can next to the nightstand or the cup of water on it.
"Here," he says, holding a bottle of ibuprofen, "in case you get a headache or hangover."
He opens the bottle, takes out a pill, closes it, then grabs the cup and holds it out to you. You take the medicine and water, gulping them down and finishing the rest of the water, then give him the cup.
"Good girl." He sets the cup down and walks over to his dresser. "I'm gonna get changed, then I'll come lie with you."
You don't respond as you crawl into the bed, snuggling under the covers. He comes back a few minutes later and sees you knocked out. A smile forms on his face as he closes the bedroom door and walks over to the empty side of the bed. He puts the small bag of wet wipes on the nightstand and gets into bed, then opens the bag and turns to you. He's careful as he takes your makeup off, making sure not to wake you.
"You're so pretty… all mine. Always were…" he whispers, wiping your lips before pressing his on them.
"Thank you for giving me a chance…" he tossed the used wipe on the table, then took a clean one and continued wiping. He keeps going until all your makeup is off, then lies in bed, pulling you closer and holding you protectively. His chin rests atop your head for a moment before he tilts it down and kisses it, nuzzling his nose in your hair.
I hope I can be a good boyfriend for you.
-
It's been an interesting two weeks for you. You've grown to like Caleb. Like, a lot. Your former self would probably be puking right now if you told her that. But he's proven that he is pretty different from all those other guys. Sure, he buys you flowers, takes you out for dinner, spends time with you, and cuddles you to sleep, and sure, that's the bare minimum. Somehow, he knows what you're in the mood for and buys you food before you even ask. When you get home from work, your pajamas are out on the bed, and the house smells different. You don't even know how he got in, but by the time the question forms in your mind, you're too tired to even ask. But you never expect him to give you money or constantly buy you things, like clothes or jewelry. He still does it anyway because he loves you, and gifting is one of his love languages. He picks you up from work now, and you two always walk around the park or stargaze, as you learned that doing those things helps you sleep at night. Of course, you never told him this, but he's very perceptive. He notices a slight change in your behavior when you've walked around the park or looked at the stars, compared with when you go straight home from work or somewhere else important.
You're more mellow and sensual.
You act as if you just got out of the clouds, like nothing phases you. You're just there.
You heard your front door open and turned your head to see Caleb in his uniform.
"I'm home, sweetheart," his voice echoes softly from the doorway.
"Hey…" You close your book and get up, feet tapping quietly against the wooden floor. You reach him and stand on your tippy toes, planting a kiss on his lips.
"Mmm…" He melts into it, like he always does. Your hands cup his head as you both continue kissing each other. The kiss lasts longer than it usually does, and his body heats up.
"Honey…" he whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I-I'm just a man… if you keep kissing me, I'll never want you to stop."
"Do you not want my kisses then?" You barely move back, and he's pulling you back, holding you firmly.
"I didn't say that," he whines, pressing his lips back onto yours. Your hands roam over his chest and shoulders, your body getting warmer as your hands slide over his muscles.
Your phone goes off, and you pull away, much to his dismay. "Go get changed," you tell him as you walk back to the living room.
Sometimes he stayed over at your place, so he had some clothes there. He sighs, missing your lips and warmth, and walks over to your room to freshen up.
You got a notification about a package being delivered, then deleted it, put your phone down, and moved to the bedroom. Caleb was quick to get clothes and leave for the bathroom, so it was just you in your room. You put on some pants and a jacket, then walked back out, keeping your slippers on as you grabbed your keys and phone and left the apartment. You quickly moved to the elevator and waited for it to open. The sound of the lift coming up filled the small area. The doors open, and a young woman, no younger than 20, stands against the wall on her phone. She looks up at you and down before walking out.
You don't pay her any mind and step in, pressing the 1st-floor button and the 'close doors' button.
Caleb walked out of the bathroom about 5 minutes later with a towel wrapped around his hips. "Baby, I just remembered that I-" He turned toward the living room and saw you were gone.
"Sweetheart?" he called out, but got no response. He walked over to the bedroom to see if you were there, but you weren't. He looks over at the door to see that it's unlocked.
She probably went to get the package, he thinks.
Yes, he got you another gift, but they're a daily thing, so you should be expecting them by now.
He walks over to the kitchen when he hears voices. Or should he say, arguing? Curious, he walks over to the front door as he ruffles his hair, and peeks through the peephole, seeing you yelling at some girl. His face scrunches in confusion, and he opens the door.
''And why the fuck would you still be looking for him after I just told you I'm his girlfriend?" he heard you tell her.
"I don't care who you are to him. I get what I want, so if I want dick, I'm getting it!" She looks at you sideways, and it's taking everything in you not to sock her in her trachea.
"Honey?" The two of you turn to look at him, and you don't look happy at all.
"Who the fuck is this?" you point at her as you look at him.
He eyes the girl, realizing she's from the gym, and sighs, "She was someone I slept with before we started talking…"
"Ohhh, so you're a thing of the past?" You say, playing dumb and cupping the side of your neck. "Mm."
"It doesn't matter what I am because I came here for one thing," She shrugs.
"Do you like… not have any standards? Do you not understand that I'm saying he's my boyfriend? He clearly doesn't want you. You can literally tell by his body language?" You question, feigning confusion and unaware that he's blushing at being called your boyfriend.
"And I said I don't care. I have standards, I don't owe you respect." She looks him up and down.
"Oh, she wants to get fucked up. Okay." You drop the bag and pounce. She flinches back, and you're pulled back into the arms of your boyfriend.
"Caleb, I swear to God. You better let me GO!"
He ignores you and turns to her, "I already told you not to come back here. I said I wasn't interested, and I meant it."
"Are you really with this bitch?" She eyes you up and down as if Caleb's taste in people is poor.
"Trick, you are so lucky that I left that kind of life in the past because I'd still fuck you up if he weren't here," you hiss, ready to launch yourself at her.
"Try it," she points her nose up and checks her nails, and you maneuver around Caleb, making her flinch backwards, but he holds you back.
"Leave us alone. Or I will have you arrested for harassing and assaulting a high-ranking official."
"And what the fuck are you, a police officer?"
"I'm the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet," he glares at her, but she laughs.
"And why would a military official of that rank be living here?" Her face expresses disgust.
"That's none of your business. So, I suggest you leave before I have you escorted out." His voice hardens.
She rolls her eyes and walks around you two, "whatever. I'm not gonna get caught up with the law over some dick."
"OH, so you can leave him alone because of his job and NOT the fact that he's taken? You triflin' ass bitch-" You yell over his shoulder, and it's taking everything in him not to burst out laughing.
"Come on, honey," he says softly as he drags you back to your apartment and closes the door.
You sit on the couch and put the package on the coffee table. Caleb's in the kitchen making you tea and something to eat. You're too heated from that stupid argument to do anything right now, and you just want to yell, scream, whatever. You grab one of your couch pillows and stuff your face in it, screaming as loud as you can in it. Caleb hears the muffled noise and rushes out, seeing you nearly suffocating yourself. He gives a small smile and turns back around to the kitchen, quickly finishing your food and putting it on the tray with your tea. You take the pillow off your face and see Caleb coming over with a full tray. He sets it down on the coffee table after moving the package aside, then kneels next to you, wrapping his arms around your calves.
You don't say anything as you pick up the tea and blow on it several times before taking a small sip. He nuzzles his face into your pant leg and rubs your covered calf with his thumb.
"I thought I'd be done with that…" you mumble, making him look up.
"The lashing out… the anger," you blink before taking another sip.
"Sometimes, we get too caught up in the moment to realize what's happening and let the situation overcome us," he whispers. You put the handle of the teacup in your left hand and stroke his hair back with your right, making him lean against you and hug your legs again.
"I hope you're not thinking of leaving me…" His voice cracks a bit, betraying the nervousness he feels.
"You want her?" he looks up as quick as lightning.
"No! I want you. It was only ever you, sweetheart…" You looked down at him and saw his puppy dog expression.
"Wipe that look off your face," you put the cup down and hold his head up from under his chin.
"What look?"
"Like you're a puppy begging for something."
"I'm begging you to love me, and never leave me," he pouts.
You move to take off your jacket, laying it on the armrest. You stand up, and he looks up at you curiously. Your fingers mess with the button of your pants as you step away from him, sliding them off and stepping out of them. He watches you intensely, eyeing those beautiful thighs and legs of yours, and lets out a breathy exhale.
"You're unreal, baby…"
"I'm just taking my outside clothes off," your monotone makes him chuckle.
"But, you look so angelic." You feel him standing behind you and turn to look up at him. He barely crouches and lifts you into his arms.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to hold you." He wraps your legs around his waist.
"I need to go put this away."
"Then, let's go put it away," he walks you two over to your room and goes in, letting you toss the pants on your desk chair.
You wrap your arms around his neck as he walks out, moving over to the couch you were just at and sitting on it once there.
"Do you… want to talk about it?" He picks up your bowl, and you assume he's going to give it to you, but he holds it so he can feed you.
"I usually just journal about it. Plus, I feel weird just talking about something like that." You shrug and slowly open your mouth, letting the spoon in.
He hums and watches you eat, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. But, in his mind, he's thinking of ways to deal with that girl. Maybe a slow, painful death? Or perhaps, something quick and easy, like suffocation. He's done all kinds of killing methods before, because being known as the ruthless Colonel of the Fleet, he heard all sorts of stories about him, and a lot of them were true.
Yes, he created a vortex and threw some guy in there.
Yes, he's held people captive for doing something as little as looking at him funny.
Yes, he is unhinged. But he manages it.
Only because you're here, and if you weren't, he could be a lot worse.
Bonus!
Your eyes squint as you look at the box. You've lost count of how many times you've been getting these packages. And they're always of things you were looking at or thinking about buying, like clothes, shoes, hair accessories, jewelry. Caleb never says anything; he compliments them once they're on your person, then attacks you with kisses.
The two of you were in his living room at the new house when you leaned away from him, looking at his face, "You've been getting me these gifts, right?"
He looks at you innocently and nods, "So, does that mean that you were the one giving me them when we weren't talking?"
He freezes, then chuckles and nods, "yes, I wa-"
"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING?" he jumps, looking confused.
"That whole time I thought Braintree or Sunderland or somebody was stalking me-"
"Have they been doing anything to you?" A dark expression appeared on his face.
"Not really, sometimes they say weird stuff or look at me weirdly..."
"Well, I was stalking you. Just not in an extreme way, like putting cameras in your place or something."
"Okayyy, but how did you get in my place if I always lock the door?" You cross your arms over your chest.
His lips pucker, and he smacks his teeth, "Caleb!"
"What?! It's not like I was doing anything bad!"
"And what exactly is your definition of bad?! Because forging keys and stalking ARE bad, literally."
"I didn't forge your key, I just used one of your bobby pins from that night we had our first date." He explains casually.
You blink and punch his arm hard, shaking your hand at the pain forming, "Now why'd you do that?! You know that arm's made of metal!"
He turns and grasps your fist, kissing your now bruised knuckle. You take the chance and snatch your hand out of his hands, punching his other arm with the same strength.
"You know that doesn't hurt, right?" He chuckles, but you're glaring at him.
He clears his throat and pretends to be in pain, making you roll your eyes and get up from the couch. You don't get far because his arms wrap around your stomach and pull you back, plopping you on the couch.
"Hey!"
"Where are you going?" He rests on his elbow, looking down at you.
"I was going to my room."
"You mean our room?" You huff and look away. "No, I meant the guest bedroom."
"Hey, don't joke like that," he says, tickling your waist, forcing a smile on your face.
"Look at me," He uses his soft voice to get you to melt into him, and your eyes shift up to him.
His hand cups your cheek and turns your head to look at him fully.
"There's my spirit," he whispers, leaning down and laying a kiss on your lips.
"I'm still irritated that you did all that."
"I know, I'm sorry, princess." He nuzzles his nose against yours.
"No, you're not."
He pretends to think, "You're right. I'm not," then kisses you again.
"Becauuuse" kiss "I finally" kiss "got you" kiss.
"And we'll never be apart. Even if you grow to hate me again one day, I'm still going to be here." He takes your wounded hand and kisses your palm, resting it against his face.
Can you spot the silent hill 4 references? Yes, I know ball. I'm very cool.
Listening to frutiger aero, gen x soft club and cyber glacier music really helps me when writing, lol.
summary: Whispers of a god weakened by war, songs chanting a fortuitous resurrection, a sleeping deity starved and hungry for souls, bodies left husks of their original selves, the Order ordained your expertise. And wherever you went, Sylus followed. side story to Undead/Necromancer AU
Cw: mentions of human sacrifice, abuse, psychological manipulation, child turned into soldier, cult-like behavior, violence, bloodshed, fem!reader, angst, hurt/no comfort, character death, inspired by the Witch and the Beast
now playing: Fear's Enemy by Kings & Creatures, Matt Nicholson, William Morris
a/n: this was a long time coming, nova. thank you for waiting so patiently for your fic title request. also, for the people i tagged, please let me know if you'd rather be removed (tagged people who were previously interested in this series). ao3 link here
i. rise
When Sylus wakes, he can still hear your screams.
Raw, piercing, half-curled around his name.
It catches in his throat more than the breath that suddenly returns. More than the putrid smell of a body beginning to decay. More than the ichor dribbling from his veins, aching from knowing the distance unwillingly placed between him and you.
For many moons, he prided himself for keeping you safe. Happy. Loved. Pushed to the carnal limits of what you will allow. But never this.
Never did he want to inject you with fear.
The image of you screaming in terror jump-starts his heart, forcibly mending broken bones and setting aflame a vengeance that awakens only when a threat larger than his moniker is named—
Atrocity.
A roar rips through the atmosphere, declaring his claim.
Burn. Let the world burn in his wake. Let the monstrosity that people shall not name rise again if it means he can erase your pain.
ii. pulse
Her name was Lily.
A grunge rat from the sewers who took your hand and tearfully asked for coin. Her clothes were loose, shoes frayed, bruises littered in too many places to name.
A part of you wondered why she chose you out of everyone else in the square. This was a place of riches: of nobles who strutted wealth like peacocks, of stalls overflowing with bread, of lovers who wouldn’t miss a stolen ring or two. But there was something about her —eyes haunted by memory, back hunched from nights where straw was the warmest company, voice lost as if engulfed by seas of fire and flame—a familiarity that pulsed into the fabric of your being:
“Run, child, only your own two feet can save you.”
And you knew then and there—you never stood a chance.
iii. veil
The townsfolk called them saints.
Saviors who coddled orphans, gave them an education, turned their lives around as if they never knew the smell of pissed-on cobblestone. Priests who cleansed the mottle of impending death and illness from skin, sisters who became the righteous protectors of girls too young to know the meaning of chastity, brothers who guarded the peace with a degree of belligerence that rivaled even the most experienced adventurers. An unnamed organization that sought to narrow the divide between the filth oppressed by overwhelming riches.
But beneath the veil, there laid a darker vein of truth, polluting even the waters feeding the citadel.
Sacrifice.
Whispers of a god weakened by war, songs chanting a fortuitous resurrection, a sleeping deity starved and hungry for souls, bodies left husks of their original selves, the Order ordained your expertise.
And wherever you went, Sylus followed.
iv. trust
Sylus doesn’t appreciate sharing.
An impressionable duckling trailing behind you, Lily holds your heart in its near entirety.
You smother her in kisses when you wake, adorn her with flower crowns, slip a bracelet (or two) around her scrawny wrists, smooth away the baby hairs and braid the strands that are strengthened by you massaging her scalp each day.
He is not afraid to admit he is jealous.
But he also knows this child, who might as well be part-fiend, is precious to you. So, if only to assuage your pointed concern at his growing irritation, he tries to bridge the gap.
“Won’t you come closer?” Each word unfurls through sharpened teeth. Lily hides behind you, trembling like a newborn lamb.
“Sylus.”
What? He blinks innocently at you, in that slow way cats do when they are an inch away from mischief. You narrow your eyes, he extends his hand, and Lily flinches as he gently opens her palm.
When he withdraws, a hairpin gleams in her name.
White as snow, framed by viridian glass warmed by firelight, she smiles—four and two teeth shining in crooked rows. She scrambles onto Sylus’s lap, shyness evaporating into exuberance and leans closer to him.
Help me? Her eyes are devoid of falsehoods, only longing. He huffs and obliges, easily slipping the pin behind her ear.
And in turn, he pretends to ignore the rumble in his chest when she combs her fingers through his hair, allowing her to scratch near the horns he hides so well.
A show of trust, a show of childhood innocence.
The air is cloying in its newfound fragrance. Sweet, almost stifling.
You smile and hope this family is an indulgence you can finally keep.
v. blade
She never intended to wield the blade.
But there was something alluring in their words—syrupy, reassuring, no longer tasting like sin, wrapped in promised sanctity—that quickly made their home underneath her skin.
“Eat your fill, child.”
“You are not alone.”
“Here, have this.”
“Why? Because you have a power no one else can wield: the power to protect others who cannot protect themselves.”
“Again, you won’t survive otherwise.”
“See how it bleeds? That is your first sign of victory.”
“Good, you’re more convincing now.”
“Hear those screams? Our Savior is pleased by our offerings.”
Until all that remained was one reverberating clarity:
“You are freeing them from their endless suffering.”
A suffering she believed to be true, a deliverance she could only fulfill, a girl—once innocent, once without a roof over her head or a meal to keep her warm, once devoid of purpose—now tasked to become the judicator.
vi. traditor
You suppose this is within the realm of acceptable punishments.
Waking from nightmares, surrounded by mysterious figures in cloaks, the slow drudgery of consciousness pounding a war drum in your skull.
It’s nothing new to you—to be labelled as the harbinger of ill omens, to be lured into a den of wolves who prey upon your supposed naivete, to be splayed upon an altar waiting for death.
And while the thought of an afterlife no longer alarms you, this is becoming tiresome.
To be judged for having a power belonging to fallen saints—
“See how she breathes life into the flame. The pyre burns for her, caresses her skin, look how the dead bend to her name.”
“You will bring calamity upon us all.”
To be given the whip instead of tender praise—
“Do you not see the harm she’s already done? She started the famine. She killed our unborn children. She was born on the night of the red moon!”
“You will make a fine offering to our god.”
To be accused of eradicating an entire village when they were the first to endlessly take—
“Run, child, only your own two feet can save you.”
You ran until your lungs forgot the meaning of air. Gasping, sobbing, cheeks smeared with the blood of your brethren. Spears driven into still-beating hearts, collapsing in front of you like marionette dolls that forgot the meaning of play.
When you found the courage to return, fury consumed you.
You held back the bile that singed your throat, disgusted by the smell of ashen bone, flesh charred beyond repair. Their bodies were unrecognizable, but you prayed and prayed and prayed: if there was a higher power listening to you, you did not want mercy, you wanted despair. Words escaped you—ancient, unknowing, stitching together souls screaming to tear the world asunder.
The first of your loyal knights arose—once alive, once breathing, nevermore.
And now you were wondering if you would ever tire of this:
“What a pity. I liked playing house with you.”
If not for your returning sight, you would have missed it. A glint of ivory betrayed by flickering candlelight. Hair neatly braided into folds you only knew. Wrists marked by jewelry you chose together, previously loose, now tight around grown hands you no longer knew.
The veil glimmers away in the dark.
“Lily, please.”
You try to indulge the fantasy a little longer, to remind her of the bonds you share, to align the opposing selves starting to sour the trust you gave. Helpless child no more, woman forged into a weapon, falsehoods now in the open.
But there’s a cruelty that brews, that reminds you of her own volition.
How she was the one who led you to the chapel housing the murmured saints. How her honeyed lips could spell no wrongs as she assured you would be safe. How the shadows quickly swarmed you, how she fought and bit her captors just like you, how they pressed knives against their throats to take you hostage, how you struggled to choose which of your loves to save, how she made the choice for you—driving a hidden dagger through your beloved’s heart, the same one gleaming dangerously above you.
And as the blade rapidly descends, your answer lights old embers aflame:
You will never tire of this bitter, traitorous taste.
The candles extinguish, heralding a new fate.
“What a shame.”
No one will come to recite your names.
vii. calamity
Sylus arrives on the coats of a fiery tempest, ropes of burnt orange streaking through stormy silver.
There's no more hiding—obsidian armoring a familiar face, claws itching for a belligerent taste, swinging gunmetal ready to bring atrocity's foundation to its early grave.
He doesn’t fear violence anymore.
Not like he used to.
“Monster!”
He watched them flee, cherub fingers grasping empty air.
“Burn them at the stake!”
They took with the intention to unmake. Gold. Unpolished jewels. Trophies hammered into wood, deprived of their final resting place. Unborn babes. Trumpets shattering eardrums too young to distinguish between dread and fate.
Survival demanded severance be made.
Hair his mother lovingly combed with polished bone. Gone. Horns his father prided for rivaling the curtain call of dusk. Gone. Stories spoken in archaic tongues, yearning for flight that knew no bounds. Gone.
He remembers.
"You are the last of us—"
He ignores their screams, roaring your name.
"Don't look back—"
You, faint, finally within reach.
Shared tears and surrounding bloodshed a testament of the family you could no longer keep.
"Run, child—"
Fangs gleam under torchlight, hands join, raising to take aim.
One by one, their statues crumble, slain by shadowed swords.
One by one, their altars become dust, an overdue vengeance for innocent souls now paid.
One by one, their reliefs of a falsified god rumored to save humanity—the worst of it—from calamity slowly return to scorched earth.
Reading this reminded me I should really start on Witch and the Beast as well soon ;-;
Also, MAN WHY DID THIS HURT SO GOOD THO I always enjoyed reading fics such as this because I do like the build-up, especially when there is a preview that there is a time that the characters have something they caring after.
Such a ride! I am glad you are working on this AU! It really is a unique idea and I can't wait to read more in the future!
✦ These are recommendation lists made by other users. Since I might not be able to find all the fics about lads, here's some lists made by other lads fans; you might find something new.
“everything seems to be good, you’re doing well at keeping them healthy.”
that should be reassuring. and it is, your growing boys are happily flourishing into their new lives and your doctor has just confirmed it.
but you can’t help but wonder, “don’t you think they’re a little… tiny?”
“they’re babies.”
“no, i know that,” you roll your eyes, recognizing his attempt at dry humor. you see the faintest smirk quirking the corner of his mouth. “i meant for their age.”
“it’s normal.” he smiles kindly. then glances at sylus’s tall frame looming in the corner, still upset about the flu shots. “i doubt it’ll last very long.”
you nod. “okay.”
“alright, just take the vitamins, eat veggies and you’re all set.” he says, checking off on his chart and straightening his coat.
kyros and lucian smile at him when he comes near, expectant. they always try to be good during their yearly check ups, despite them being scary. remnants of their sobs are evident on their red noses and wet eyes. but they believe they’ve done their best being good, and good boys get—
their faces visibly fall at the head pat they get instead of their usual treat. which zayne follows up with, “oh, and no more sweets.”
“ha?”
“one to two candies a week should do.” you and sylus nod at his advice and thank him for his time, letting him exit the examination room.
but lucian yells after him, “HAA?!”
you giggle at his cartoonish look of disbelief. “you hear him, lucian, no—“
“DOTER SAYNE!” he screams, scrambling in sylus’s arms as he’s placed on the ground. he runs to the heavy door and and tries to pry it open. “DOTER SAYNE, NO! NO!”
CW: god of tides!rafayel, sea nymph!reader, blind!reader, fluff, childhood friends trope, kidnapping, religious undertones, religious indoctrination, manipulation, genocide, character death, world building, reincarnation, star-crossed lovers trope, inspired by the song The Tide (by Rosedale)
A/N: In the Drifting Through Deepspace Universe, the God of Tide's timeline is set in the past, while the Lemurian Sea God myth is set during the same time period as Sylus' Abysm Sovereign myth and Xavier's Darknight myth
Universe Masterlist
We were children of the sea
In the water so carefree
You and I went hand in hand
Building castles in the sand
The sound of laughter echoed across the sea as she watched her children live their lives, their happiness and joy bringing peace to the tides that brushed again the land in a gentle caress.
While the sea was not living, nor could she feel the same emotions of her children, she was vast and had seen life change across many millennium.
Had seen the birth of new life, the loyalty of family, the loss of loved one, the sorrow that soon led to death.
She has seen it all, yet as she watched her children from different walks of life, weather it be Lemurian's or Naiad's alike, play together upon where her waves met the soft sand of the land beyond, she couldn't help but feel at peace.
The laughter of her creations being carried away by the wind as the people celebrated this years New Year's Festival, the one day a year when the sky touched the sea and the tides were at their highest, a day of celebration and music as the Oceanids of different walks of life met upon the shores near Whalefall City.
All while, unnoticed by them, the young prince of Lemuria snuck away from his aunt and made his way further down the coast.
His little tail pushing with all his might and his tongue sticking out in concentration as he swam around some rocks before pausing as he heard the sound of singing. The gentle melody drawing his attention as he poked his head out of the water and gazed at the rocking shore nearby.
There, dancing upon the rocks along the cove and humming a happy tune, was a young Naiad.
While Rafayel had never met a Naiad before, he had heard about them from his auntie, who had explained all about the other species created by the sea long ago.
While Lemurian's were said to be the oldest creations of the sea, being created from flaming coral and pearls, Naiad's were said to be the youngest creations of the sea, created from sea foam and stardust.
Their appearance more human then their sister race, with them not even having tails when they are born.
How odd, Rafayel couldn't help but think to himself as he watched the Naiad dance along the rocks.
Their ears webbed in a similar way to his own, freckled scales scattered along their shoulders and cheeks, their hair falling in messy ringlets around their shoulders as they twirled and sang to their hearts content.
Until they slipped.
Rafayel's eyes widening as he watched them fall towards the rocking waves, only for the sea itself to move to cradle the child, a soft giggle falling from their lips as they were guided down before being gently set into the water.
The sea settling once more after placing a soft pat against the child's messy curls, the sight bringing a look of awe to the young Lemurian's face.
For while Lemurian's could control the sea, bending her to their will, Naiad's were favored by it, with her bending to their needs.
His wandering mind focusing once more as he was suddenly lifted up into the air by the sea, his eye wide as he was carried over before suddenly being dumped right beside the Naiad child.
The sea submerging him back into her waters and causing him to sink, his little tail flapping in indignation before he resurfaced once more.
Only to come face to face with pearl like eyes shining in the fading light of the day.
His breath hitching, a moment of silence settling between the two children, only broken by the sound of the sea brushing against the rocks nearby as they both stared at one another, before the Naiad child slowly smile.
"H-Hello."
They whispered, their head ducking beneath the waves until only their eyes were visible as they stared up at Rafayel in shy curiosity. The sight causing something in Rafayel's own little heart to stir as a bright blush spread across the tips of his ears.
"H... Hi."
He said in response, his voice breathless and causing the Naiad's shy smile to brighten beneath the waves as they stared up at him with unseeing eyes shining brighter then any pearl beneath the light of the moon.
Then one night the tide came in
Pulled you out to sea and then
I never saw you ever again
"Fayel, are you sure we should be out here?"
You ask, your words lost to him as Rafayel dragged you through the water by your hand, his eyes filled with excitement as he swam further away from the kingdom towards the shores above.
"Of course, Auntie doesn't understand! I have to try out my new legs today, I can't just wait until tomorrow!"
He says, his voice filled with overwhelming excitement as you followed him towards the surface.
Your own little legs allowing you to easily crawl onto the beach before turning back to him as he pulled himself up onto the sand, his tail glistening in the clouded afternoon light as he glanced back to it before closing his eyes and concentrating.
A moment passing as he stuck his tongue out before you watch as his tail glows a soft blue, his scales fading away as his tail transformed into a pair of legs similar to your own.
Your eyes wide as you watched the magic and energy circle around his tail behind your unseeing eyes, an excited giggle falling from your lips as you clapped your hands for your friend, the action causing him to smile as he examined his legs before finally trying to stand.
Only to fall flat onto his face.
A moment of silence passing as his face remained in the sand before your laughter filled the cove, his ears tinged red in embarrassment as he glared up at you with a pout before trying again, his new legs wobbling beneath him from disuse as he glared down at them and tried to will himself to walk.
Your gentle encouragements and soft laughter fueling his determination and distracting him from the coming storm as he slowly got the hang of it.
His smile filled with pride and excitement as he followed you over the rocks nearby, trying to learn how to climb as he watched you disappear beyond the wall of stones.
A few minutes passing before he finally tumbled his way down the other side of the rock wall, his cheer of triumph echoing across the cove as he sat on the sands of the beach, the evening tide brushing against his new legs and making him realized how late it had gotten.
The setting sun now hidden by dark clouds as a storm rolled in from the east, thunder shaking the skies above as he watch light of day slowly hide away.
Only then did he realize something.
It was too quiet.
"Iyla?"
He calls, his eyes widening as he glanced around the now empty cove, your giggling form nowhere to be seen as he called out to you, his voice growing more desperate by the minute as his calls went unanswered.
The tide brushing against his new legs that he had been so excited to try out, drawing his attention out across the sea where a human ship lay far in the distance, making it's way away from the very cove he now sat.
His breath hitching as panic brushed against his subconscious, his chest burning in a way he wouldn't understand until he was much older as something in his mind told him that you were aboard that ship.
His panic growing, spreading throughout his body as he crawled his way back into the sea, his legs long forgotten as his tail once more appeared and pushed him through the water towards the ship ahead.
The storm that had rolled in above causing the waves to push back against his attempt, the tides pulling him back towards the cove and throwing him onto the sandy shore, as if telling him he was already to late.
Tears clouding his vision as he sat upon the shore of the cove, rain beginning to fall and the tides brushing against his tail in apology as he watched the ship faded away into the distance.
Pulling you out to sea where he would never see you again.
I been searching far and wide you know
Hoping that the waves will bring you home
Everyday I'm clinging to the life we had before
The sound of crashing waves drowned out the world around you as you tried to stay awake, your nails digging into the wooden floor of the ship beneath you as you remained below deck.
The vessel rocking violently from side to side, the waves crashing against the sides of the ship in an attempt to free you from your prison as the stormed outside raged on.
A tired smile spreading across your lips despite the situation, the taste of blood on your tongue as your lips cracked from dehydration as you curled into yourself. The chain around your ankle tight, digging into your delicate skin and leaving behind scars that would never heal correctly.
The sea raging on your behalf and the sky crying out to you in comfort as you began to hum, a soft lullaby your mother would always sing to you, the same song you had been singing the day you and Rafayel had first met.
Unable to even shed a tear as you laid upon the wooden floor, the world around you bathed in darkness behind your unseeing eyes and the only comfort left to you being a simple tune that reminded you so much of your home.
A home you knew you would never see again, as the human ship passed between a cliff face, docking at a nearby port where your new life would begin.
A life far away from the sea you loved so much, the memory of your home fading with each passing year as you waited until the day the humans who took you found use for you once more.
But the ocean gives the ocean takes
Holding on was my mistake
So now I think it's time I let you go
You were so young when you were first brought to the Temple, your life before and the world outside the city becoming nothing but a distant memory as you were taken in and saved by the High Priest, who believed you to be a blessing from the sea herself.
Your arrival bringing with it many storms that heal the dying crops and large waves that brought in many fish to the harbor that had once been desolate and dying.
The Priest's gentle words and guiding presences raising you as the Sea God's favorite, teaching you to become a High Priestess of the very temple that took you in our of the goodness of their hearts, despite your... less then human appearance.
They had done so much for you, hiding away your webbed ears and scaled freckles, clipping your nails and covering your... unnatural eyes.
Turning you into the beauty of the Seaside City, revered and beloved by all those within, with the people never knowing of your true origins and you slowly forgetting yourself the longer they kept you from the sea.
The High Priest's words ringing within your mind anytime you got too close to the ocean.
"The sea is a deadly force, guiding fishermen home and taking lives just as easily when underestimated. Do not be tempted by it's waters. You are reborn, pure, untouched by the death that lingers in it's depths. Should you ever touch the sea, you will lose the protection and love the Gods and the Temple alike have given you."
His words echoing in your mind even now as you stood atop the cliff face, your hands bound behind your back, the shawl that usually covered your unnatural ears now gone with the wind, revealing your sinfulness to the people below.
The sheer eye mask that had always been used to cover your sightless gaze now your only comfort as the harsh winds of the sea blew against you from below, allowing you to tell just how high up you truly were.
The scent of the storm rolling in from the east and the salt water below invading your senses, calming the tremble within your hands, drowning out the rest of the world as you allowed your mind to drift.
Drift away from the cheers of the town's people below, clapping along with joyful words as if this whole thing was reverent in some twisted way.
Drift away from the words of prayer the very man who had raised and taught you now spoke, his voice being carried across the sea by the wind as he thanked the God of the Sea for protecting them.
Humbling offering him this holy sacrifice.
Your mind drifting away from the betrayal and sorrow you felt in your heart at learning you had not been raised as the favored of the Sea God, but as his sacrifice.
A hollow shell of purity and light that was meant to be thrown away in order to ensure the God's protection for the people below.
The High Priest's last words to you before this whole thing, before he bound you against your will for the ceremony, still echoing through your mind as he guided you towards the edge of the cliff.
Your unseeing gaze hidden behind your sheer eye mask as the waves crashed against the cliff side below in both rage at your suffering and anticipation of your return.
"I have raised you well, but no teaching can erase the blood in your veins and the essence of the creature that you are. Repay me for my unending kindness that I have shown you in the only way you are able… By giving up your life so we all may prosper."
His words ringing clear even over the sound of the crashing waves and the cheers of the people as he pushed you from the cliff top, your body becoming heavy in a way it never had before as you fell forward, down, down… down…
crash!
Before you became weightless in a way you had long forgotten.
The waves of the sea cradling you within their grasp after so long apart, holding you within their embrace and healing the hollowness of your cheeks and the fatigue that had come from being separated from your home for so long.
The betrayal you felt in your heart, the cheers of the people and the words of prayer the man spout above the waves, all lost to you as you closed your eyes.
Giving into the gentle embrace of the sea as it guided you beneath the waves, your consciousness fading as you closed your unseeing eyes behind your sheer mask, the light of the surface fading away to a distant memory.
The last thing you felt being a warm embrace, arms that were unknown but so familiar to you holding you close and cupping your cheek.
The last thing you heard being a male voice, whispering a name you had long since forgotten, before the warm touch of lips against your own stole your breath away as you finally gave into the darkness and comfort the sea provided.
You were always by my side
Left our troubles far behind
Skinny dipping stars so bright
Underneath the pale moonlight
Music and laughter flowed throughout the city of Lemuria as the people celebrated, joy and music that had once been absent from the beautiful city now back with the safe return of the prince's bride.
A grand wedding being held for you both by the people, who looked upon you with reverence and love, not for your beauty or what you could offer them, but because of the genuine happiness you brought to their prince and the way the sea, that had raged for many years now, calmed at your return.
Their laughter and cheers bringing life back to the sea as they watched you dance with their God's chosen, your husband, in the center of town. Your movements flowing like the tide flowed against the shore as you both danced together, his hands reaching for you and only ever taking you into his embrace when you allowed him to.
It was a truly beautiful sight.
Not just your dancing, but the way the prince stared at you like a sailor did to the north star within the sky, as if you were his only guiding light within the darkness and he had finally found his way home. Like the tides reaching for the moon each night, yearning for her embrace yet allowing her freedom and admiring her in her element.
The faded scars around your ankles from a time long ago now forgotten, as you danced with your husband to the sound of gentle music and the joyful cheers of your people.
Your smile, filled with such contentment and devotion, and the sight of your pearl like gaze that he had longed for every night since your disappearance, now bringing him to his knees as he brought you into his arms and pressed his lips against yours.
Pouring every bit of his love for you into the single action as the world around you both faded away, the cheers of the people nothing but distant noise as the chosen of the sea and the north star alike embraced each other for the first time after so long apart.
You swam too far away from shore
I saw the ocean swallow you whole
Now the summer skies are still and cold
Chaos reined throughout the city, the peoples cries of pain and anguish echoing in your ears as you ran through the halls of the palace. Your sightless eyes flickering across the quickly moving shapes of grey and color as the citizens tried to escape from the humans who had invaded the great city.
Your hand against the wall being your only source of direction as you made your way towards the courtyard, the same place you and your husband had celebrated your wedding exactly one year ago.
Where was he?
What was going on?
You couldn't understand, your mind filled with panic as the nightmares you had been plagued with ever since the day you bound yourselves together were now coming into fruition.
The screams of the people, the city filled with fire and the ocean bathed in red.
Your chest aching as you finally reached the court yard, fire shooting through your veins in a way you couldn't understand as you fell to your knees against the cold cobblestone ground. Your hands gripping at your chest as you tried to focus, tried to understand why it felt like your heart was being ripped from your chest as you glanced forward.
Only to freeze as you saw him, your husband, the familiar blue and pink hues of his energy mixing together in a way that always took your breath away as you reached out to him.
"Rafayel!"
You call, your voice echoing off the objects surrounding you, projecting not only the imagine of the crumbling courtyard into your mind, but your lover kneeling with his back facing you a few yards away.
Only, he wasn't alone.
His head dipped forward as if in defeat as he knelt before a figure, their features obscured to you and their body bathed in gold energy just as your vision began to fade once more.
Your head shaking as you spoke once more, trying to hold onto the sight of him.
"Stop!"
You begged, your voice filled with desperation, the image before you returning to your mind, allowing you to watch as Rafayel finally glanced to you over his shoulder.
His sunset eyes, once filled with fire and devotion, now full of defeat and heartache as he found you amidst of the chaos. The smile across his lips tired in a way it shouldn't be, filled with a deep sorrow and guilt that tore your heart apart as you watched tears roll down his cheeks.
As if silently begging you for forgiveness for something you didn't want to believe.
The sight stealing your breath away as your vision began to fade once more, gray mist and darkness closing in as you climbed back to your feet, running forward on trembling legs while reaching out to him as if you could delay the inevitable.
"Please, don't-"
You began, the sound waves of your voice projecting the last image of your lover into your mind as you watched him bow his head to you, his eyes closed and tears rolling down his cheeks despite his smile as the figure behind him tilted his head back.
Her features, still obscured to you in a way you couldn't understand, her body bathed in gold as she leaned in before bringing her lips to your husbands.
The Lemurian bond marking upon your chest burning, before shattering all together, causing you to scream out in pain as you felt the thread of life linked to your lover finally snap.
A heavy silence that felt like hours, yet had only been mere seconds, passing; before the woman pulled away, her form fading before your eyes as you watched your lover collapse.
The world around you moving as if in slow motion as you lunged forward, your vision fading just as you caught your lover in your arms before he could hit the floor.
The last thing you see before your vision fades once more being the sight of your lover's form dissolving into sea foam within your arms and his scales breaking away from him, disappearing into the air as his body fades away.
A heavy silence following the darkness that was left behind your gaze, only severed by the distant screams of your citizens, before you broke the silence with your own ear piercing scream.
Your eyes glowing a soft, starlight blue, as the sound of your voice echoed across the city and beckoning the sea to your call.
And she answered, a giant wave climbing high in the distance, it's shadow covering the city of Lemuria as the humans killing those within all stopped, turning to watch as a giant tsunami blanketed the city.
The sound of their own screams echoing back into their ears as they tried to escape, before the city of Lemuria was swallowed up by the sea and hidden within her depths.
Never to be seen by humans again.
But I been sailing miles against the tide
Hoping that the waves give me a sign
Dreaming of the day I'll finally meet you at the coast
The sound of waves crashing against the side of the cliff seemed to drown out the rest of the world as you stood atop the familiar cliff face.
The same place you had been meant to die so many years ago in order to ensure the happiness of others, now the place you would take your last breath as you willingly gave up your life to join your lover in the world beyond.
Now, here you stood, your unseeing eyes trained on the sky as dark storm clouds rolled in from the east, blocking out the light of the setting sun and causing the temperature to drop.
The distant sound of thunder ringing in your ears and a flash of lightning shining in your crystalized eyes as you lost yourself to the memories running through your mind.
The memories of your lover and your time spent together, the feeling of his soft purple hair running through your finger, the beautiful glimmer of his scales behind your visionless gaze as he swam through the ocean currents in the morning light, the warmth that spread within your heart as you remembered his unique eyes.
What beautiful eyes they were.
The colors of blue and pink mixing perfectly together anytime you would sing for him, reminding you so much of the setting sky now blocked out by the approaching storm. The wind speeds rising and the waves crashing harder against the cliff side below. The cold grass beneath your bare feet barely registering in your mind as you took a step forward.
Then another.
Then another.
Until at last you stood at the edge of the cliff, your unseeing eyes still trained on the sky as lightning flashed once more, thunder shaking the earth below as rain finally began to fall, the droplets gently hitting your ice cold skin, wetting your hair and causing your clothes stained with your lovers blood to stick to your body.
The soft smell of rain mixing perfectly with the familiar scent of the sea as frigid winds rose up from the crashing waves below, running through your damp hair and brushing against your cheek in a gentle caress, as if knowing and acknowledging your struggles.
As if beckoning you to join it in the dark depths below.
“Please…”
You began, your voice no more than a whisper against the raging storm around you, even as the waves seemed to calm their assault against the cliff side at the desperation in your tone.
“Grant me one last act of mercy. When you take me into your waiting arms and steal my final breath as payment… take with it the memory of him. The memory of his beating heart beneath my fingertips as I sang to him late into the night, of his hands in mine as we danced beneath the waves in each others arms, of his lips pressed against mine as he pledged his love to me… of his hands reaching out to that woman, of his kingdom falling to ruin, of his blood staining the ocean red and his broken scales floating atop the water's surface as he took his final breath.”
You begged, praying to any god that would listen to grant you this one last wish before you're swallowed by the depths of the sea and forgotten for all time.
Lightning flashing as your words were spoken into the world, thunder soon following as the storm grew in its intensity. The familiar scent of sea salt invading your senses as the wind brushed against your cheek in a final caress, reassuring you of your decision before carrying your words across the ocean.
The wind parting the clouds above and allowing a stream of light to peek through, its colors a beautiful mixture of blue and pink behind your blurred vision, so reminiscent of his eyes.
The light shining down upon you and beckoning you forward, promising you peace if you just took that final step.
The comforting warmth causing a soft smile to spread across your lips as you raised your hands to the sky, welcoming the beautiful light as if welcoming home your long lost lover.
“Thank you.”
You whispered, your voice filled with an overwhelming gratitude.
A single tear rolling down your cheek as you finally closed your eyes, that droplet rolling off your chin and crystalizing as it fell into the ocean before just as you took that last step forward.
The cold ground beneath your bare feet disappearing as you allowed yourself to fall.
Down.
Down.
Down.
The wind picking up in speed and the waves crashing against the now empty cliff side with a renewed vigor, the roaring of the thunder drowning out the sound of your body hitting the ocean below with a sickening crash.
A deafening silence greeting you as you sank beneath the waves like that time so long ago.
Yet now, unlike then, you greeted the darkness with open arms, the ocean welcoming you into its cold embrace as you sank further and further into its depths.
The metallic taste of blood on your tongue and the throbbing pain in your head causing you to lose focus as you watched the light of the surface grow farther and farther out of your reach behind your sightless gaze.
The frigid cold of the ocean waters seeping into your bones and chilling you to the core as your mind began to grow hazy, your body heavy yet weightless in the oceans grasp, before you slowly closed your eyes.
A soft smile across your lips for the last time as you finally allowed the darkness to consume your mind.
The pain of your throbbing body and the frigid chill of the ocean within your bones slowly fading away as the sea did as you asked, taking you into its waiting arms and stealing your final breath as payment before finally taking the memory of your stolen lover away from you.
Your memories fading and your body transforming into a creature strong enough that even the sea herself could not control. Strong enough to protect your people and prevent anyone else from suffering the same fate as you.
But the ocean gives the ocean takes
Holding on was my mistake
So now I think it's time I let you go
"What beautiful eyes."
Your words, no more then a whisper between you both, nearly brought Rafayel to his knees as he stared into the sight of your familiar pearl like eyes.
The same eyes he had long to see everyday of his new life.
Yet, instead of the joy and love the words once brought him, all he could feel now was overwhelming guilt, because he knew you didn't recognize him despite your words, weather it be from this life or the last.
Your words spoken from some subconscious part of your memory that was locked away within your mind due to the wish you had made upon your death in your first life.
A wish that he couldn't even fault you for, for it was his fault you made the wish in the first place.
It was his death that pushed you to your own, his death that led you to living a life filled with hatred and fear bred from not knowing who or what you were. His death that had inadvertently caused your own, despite his whole purpose being to save you in the end.
His heart aching as he watched you come back to yourself, shaking your head before quickly looked away from him with embarrassment upon your features at your sudden comment to who you believe to be a complete stranger.
A sight so beautiful that he couldn't help but turn away, knowing that if he looked at you any longer, he just might break.
His steps silent as he stood up before walked back down the dock, away from you for what would hopefully be the last time, at least in his mind.
Still, despite himself, Rafayel couldn't help but pause as he reached the end of the dock, his hands trembling at his sides before he finally looked back over his shoulder one last time.
The sight of you sitting at the edge of the dock, your hair blowing gently in the breeze, your sightless gaze filled with gentle care as you held a little fish within your hands, bringing tears to his eyes as he quickly turned away once more and continued walking, refusing to turn back for even a moment.
Knowing that if he did, he would never leave your side again.
content warning: 18+ MDNI. childhoodbestfriend!caleb x f!reader. manipulation. possessiveness. hints of jealousy. p in v. breeding.
As children you two would always play a variety of games with the others on the playground. Hide-n-seek, Tug o’ war, Simon Says and House. The last one was Caleb’s favorite out of all of them. He always used to claim the role of ‘husband’ and make you his ‘wife’, pick up daisies from the ground, gift you a ring pop. He’s always had a little possessive streak running through him, promising you that you’ll have a real wedding someday, and that you’ll get to be his real wife! You’ll be his real wife only.
Then, middle school came around, and Caleb had formed a permanent scowl on his face whenever he saw you talking to other boys. He would grab you by the arm, dragging you away from them. “They’re not nice kids, why don’t you hang out with me?,” your bottom lip jutted out, because at the time you were unable to understand why you were being scolded by him when all you did was talk about the release of a new movie. “Or what, do you hate me now? Are you bored of me?,” his eyebrows were furrowed in distress, eyes wet. Your shoulders slumped, you hated seeing your Caleb upset. Shaking your head rapidly, you denied both of his questions. A clammy hand interwining with his, a soothing act able to settle his doubts.
By highschool, everyone knew implicitly who you belonged to. Always an arm slung around your shoulders, always two steps behind you. You didn’t mind it. In fact, it made a warm feeling overcome you whenever Caleb was near. You craved his presence as much as he craved yours, that ugly, green monster rearing its head whenever he was approached by another girl. It was stupid of you to even think about being jealous, after all, Caleb made sure that you knew he only belonged to you, the silver pendant you’ve gifted him on one of his birthdays was always present at his neck. A reminder of your possession.
During your time at college, he managed to convince you to rent an apartment together with him. Claiming you wouldn’t even need to worry your pretty head about rent if you do move in, and there was the added benefit that you’ll both be close to one another. Plus, you wouldn’t have as much fun in a dorm with strangers like you would with someone you’ve known forever, and of course you agreed. Why bother making other friends when Caleb is always here for you? He’s the only one you need.
That is how you found yourself bent over the covers of a bed, several years later. However, instead of the sticky ring pop, a beautiful diamond adorned your ring finger. “Told you I’d make you—ngh—m–mine officially,” he moans against the nape of your neck, his cock pistoning in and out of you. Once the wedding reception ended, he wasted no time in pinning you down against the mattress the instant you’ve both arrived at the hotel. Years of restraint unraveling as you both hungrily chased each other’s touch.
You have no idea just how much he’s fantasized about this exact scenario—his precious girl wearing his last name, being his on paper. “So good!—you feel so good, Caleb!,” you mewled his name so very sweetly, it made his blood run hot with need. “Yeah? Tell me how much you love me,” his fingers dug deeper into the softness of your hips, picking up his pace to hit that gummy spot inside of you just right. “S’much! Love you, love you, love you!,” you chanted those two words like a prayer, moaning it over and over. You were so desperate for him, your now dear husband.
Caleb felt his mind spinning, obsessed with the way you were getting lost in pleasure, “Mhm, I’m all yours. Fuck—want to breed you so badly. I’m allowed to, right? That’s what a husband should do,” he could feel the tight knot in his lower body slowly unraveling, wanting nothing more than to fill you up, “Say yes, c’mon,” his breathing’s ragged, thrusts getting sloppier. You nod your head eagerly, “Yes, please, please,” and that’s all it took. With a broken moan, thick ropes of cum paint your insides as you clench around his cock, your own orgasm washing over you.
He kisses your back and shoulders gently, stilling his hips, “See? I told you I’d make you my real wife.”
summary: a business deal brings more than just profits. It also brings you with a voice like heaven itself.
A business deal brings him to a lounge deep within the N109 zone. It's deliberately hidden, only accessed by those who are allowed to. An ever-changing password allows him and Sylus sinks into a world far different from the one outside.
The decor screams speakeasy with wooden panelling and brown leather seats. An assortment of too expensive drinks line the shelves of the bar and the light remains dim, keeping secrets barely seen. It's a perfect place to conduct business because no one dares cause trouble here. Only civility reigns in this space—any and all violence must be taken outside.
Sylus is led to the booth his contact had reserved and orders a drink when asked. He settles in, leaning into the worn but well-kept leather. But his senses are on alert, his ears listening to all the chatter and his eyes watching for too sudden movements. His drink arrives in quick time but he doesn't drink it immediately, taking a sniff to discern any ill motives. A sip is taken when he deems it safe, the burn of whiskey pleasant down his throat.
He's a bit early, expecting his contact within the next hour or so. There's a reason to this as it establishes the position of power. Many would believe that coming early makes you seem eager and overly ambitious. Like you couldn't want to commence what is in store and reap the benefits. They believe it makes one look sloppy, like they've never conducted a deal in their lives.
But being early has its advantages; it shows he means business and does not care enough to perform such mind games. It allows him to get a feel of the establishment, to see the people within them and how they operate. Even if he had canvased the place beforehand. Plus it's nice to see his contact approach him while he's seated and comfortable, nursing a drink and already commanding the room. It makes him look like the boss because he is the boss.
So Sylus enjoys his time alone and relaxes, whiskey half-done and fingers tapping along to the live band playing. He's always been a fan of jazz and finds himself wondering if the band has recorded any vinyls, he's fond of their sound. But then the band finishes their set and move onto something a bit more slower—more sensual. The dim lights dim further until it's almost dark and the spotlights dotted around the bottom of the stage turn on.
Then you appear, stepping onto the stage with practiced ease. You walk towards the microphone with elegance, confidence spilling from you with each stride. The lounge has fallen silent, everyone in awe of your presence as you regard them with shining eyes.
"Good evening," you drawl into the microphone, painted lips curled into a smile. "And welcome. I'm so glad to see many returning faces here tonight as well as some new ones." Your eyes flicker to Sylus for a moment. "Now I'm not here to talk, I'm here to sing so let's get started." You look back to the band with a smile with a nod, signaling it's their time to start.
Bass floods the air first followed by the light keys of the piano. Then your voice enters in, swift and soft, and Sylus finds himself captivated.
He was already captivated when he saw you walk up on that stage. It'd be hard not to notice you, even without the aide of spotlight illuminating you like stars. you're the most gorgeous person he's ever laid eyes on, a beautiful masterpiece dressed in silk and housing the voice of an angel. Or better yet, a siren because of how you draw people in, voice soulful and rich and sweet.
Sylus watches you like it's his mission tonight, eyes tracking your every move as you sway your hips to the rhythm. He watches how you flick your hands with grace, how you caress the microphone stand when you really get into the song. How your eyes close tightly because you're feeling every note and sound so intensely, it shakes you. And it's this passion, this raging fire that has Sylus feeling like a man before a goddess—unworthy and wholly devoted.
Sylus snaps his fingers towards a nearby waiter and they come rushing over. He points towards the stage, uncaring of if you see it—more so hoping that you would.
"Who is that?" He asks and the waiter looks to where he's pointing.
"That's the lounge's gem," the waiter answers. "The reason why business does so well here. It was never this packed until they brought her in. Now people are dying to witness her in action, so much so that they're buying passwords to enter in here to hear her sing."
Sylus hums, still watching you keenly as your voice takes on a higher note. There's a split second where your eyes meet his and he smirks when you quickly look away, seemingly shy. But it doesn’t show because you're fast on the recovery, keeping that professional appearance for your crowd.
"When she's done, ask her what her favourite drink is," Sylus orders. "Tell her she can have as many as she wants and whatever else she likes. It's on me."
The waiter nods before disappearing and Sylus continues watching you, listening closely to every note and word you sing.
Because it feels like he may die if he stops.
And later on the evening, when Sylus is deep in discussions with his contact, he spots you leaning against the bar with a drink in hand while you talk to some people. You look up for a moment, meeting his gaze once more and smile demurely as you raise up your glass.
Sylus' heart flutters and it takes him everything to not smile like a fool.
♱⋅── synopsis: the vampire sovereign sylus has known hunger forever, but not like this. you are temptation, salvation, and it will bring ruin to you both.
♱⋅── tags: mdni, smut, lots and lots of cunnilingus, blood and cum drinking, overstimulation, choking, "my dearest wife", light predator prey, vampire venom- aphrodisiac?
♱⋅── word count: 3.9k (part 1 of 2)
The Archfiend Sovereign is not a patient man.
This you realized quickly after awakening him. If not in the battle where he almost drank you dry, then in the days that followed. He tore apart every cursed church hunter who dared pursue you, a tempest of wrath and blood, and each time his lips found your throat, that vicious, reverent hunger seized him once more.
So it was only fitting that the first night you surrendered yourselves, body and soul, was as hungry and deprived and bloody as every encounter that had ever tangled your fates together.
Simply put, you were never a patient woman either.
The fire was burning low when Sylus rose from the chair you had pushed him into not an hour before. Fighting the latest group of church hunters had left both of you torn and bruised, your pulse still stuttering in that fragile, frantic rhythm that betrayed every flicker of pain and fear. He could hear it. He had been hearing it the entire time you dressed his wounds—every uptick, every stumble, every flutter.
You had only just finished binding the torn flesh along his ribs, his own self-healing slowed from exhaustion and poison. The scent of your blood was faint, just a shallow scrape on your forearm, but the mere reminder of it was enough to have his control waning. Sylus had noticed it the moment the two of you got back.
He never hid it. That quiet, unsettling devotion. That razor-edge focus. That hunger that wasn’t just for blood, but for you, your warmth, your breath, your presence.
Really, he should have rested. Every rational instinct, every ounce of centuries-old discipline should have kept him in the chair. But the moment you stepped away, the moment your pulse lifted with the motion, he rose as if pulled by a thread, forever bound to you.
He followed you from the hearth to the leather-bound couch where you’re drinking wine, moving with a silent, predatory glide that makes the hairs at the back of your neck lift. You feel him behind you like a phantom, the cold embrace of his presence, the way the air stills as if it recognizes him as the more dangerous creature in the room.
Then, his hunger gets the better of him.
Sylus seizes you around the waist and drives you back against the couch, the force so sudden the candlewicks flicker in protest, and your glass drops and shatters.
Your gasp wakes him like a jolt. His head snaps down, pupils blown wide, chest rising in a sharp, involuntary inhale as he drinks in the rush of your scent: blood, adrenaline, and the sharp scent of your arousal that makes his shoulders coil taut.
You’re about to protest in fear of reopening his wounds when Sylus forces your jaw up, kissing you deep enough that your teeth click, violent and desperate.
He tried not to think about how he almost lost you tonight.
It’s pathetic how quickly you give in, letting Sylus steal your breath as he licks into your mouth, kisses along your collarbone, entirely unrestrained except for the precision with which he avoids your throat.
Another kiss followed, harsher. And another, and another, each one fueled by the scent of your blood pounding hotter beneath your skin.
The terrifying part wasn’t his strength.
It was the restraint.
You forget everything in your desperation to touch him, skin on skin, to feel the heat of life beneath his chilled breath. Grasping at him with restless hands, drawing his broad frame against your own until he envelops you entirely, pressing your lips into the sharp edges of his fangs as if goading him into biting you.
Sylus draws back with a soft hiss. "Careful," he cups your jaw. “Your impatience will spoil the both of us if you try to kiss me like that.”
“Then your restraint will be the death of us both,” you counter.
Impatient, your lips brush against his, savoring every shiver it draws from him as you take Sylus’s bottom lip between your teeth, biting just hard enough to watch him tense.
A horrible, awful idea strikes you.
Your hand sneaks to the bottle of wine still left on the nightstand next to the couch, and, before you could overthink it, you tip the entire bottle, letting the wine douse your chest.
The vampire lunges to catch your wrist, but even with his reflexes he isn’t fast enough to stop you from drenching your nightgown dark with wine.
“Little minx.” He clicks his tongue, leaning over you to place the now-empty bottle back onto the nightstand, and yet his eyes never leave the rivulets of scarlet dripping down the valley of your breasts, turning the silk into a tempting sort of translucent.
He’s trembling, the table rattling with the force of his deteriorating self-control.
“Oh dear,” you blink up at Sylus with a sigh. “It seems as though I’ve made a mess. My beloved husband, would you be so kind as to help clean me up?”
Watching your every movement with the type of deadly anticipation only predators give their prey, he narrows his eyes. “Someone’s up to no good. Tell me, should I anticipate a blade at my throat again, my dearest wife?
You hum in consideration. “We shall see, won’t we?”
A laugh. That’s all the convincing he needs.
Ever-so-gently, Sylus places his thumb beneath your chin, tilting your face to the side as his lips meet the wine-slick dip of your collarbone. You feel his breath, hot, hesitant, still holding himself back. But your patience is running thin, and you wrap your arms around his neck, one tugging into his long, undone locks as the other scratches down his back, pressing his body into yours.
Gods, you know how big your vampire is, all thick muscle built from centuries of surviving, but his sheer size now bearing you down into the leather of the couch makes the power imbalance all the more obvious.
Only, it’s him that’s completely at your mercy. What delicious irony.
Humming sweet pleas and begging into Sylus’s ear, his self-restraint finally snaps. You gasp at the feeling of his tongue dragging down your neck to catch the dripping trails of wine. His tongue traces the column of your neck, across old bite marks, until he reaches that spot just below your ear that has you whimpering.
“You test me,” he murmurs, voice rough enough to raise goosebumps along your arms.
“Is that not my duty?”
Your pulse flutters against his mouth, and Sylus loses himself. A groan vibrates deep from his chest before he begins licking and nipping down your collarbones and chest as he follows the red trickles of wine down every inch of your exposed skin. You taste sweet. Far too sweet.
But he’s careful not to bite, not for now. He’s saving that for later.
Far sooner than you would have liked, Sylus’s advances are blocked by the top of your nightgown, fangs tugging gently against the silk trim as he mouths over the top of your breasts and the gentle dip of your sternum.
Like he knows it’s driving you mad, Sylus continues teasing the boundary of your nightgown, his hands tracing up and down your thighs, lingering only long enough to flit against the wet silk bunching at your hips. Each time his fingers dare edge under, they push the boundary just barely, exposing more skin mere centimeters at a time, up and up until he reaches your hip with a choked moan, realizing there was nothing else covering your bare skin.
One hand rests featherlight against your naked waist, and the other traces up your spine, coaxing you closer as Sylus dips his head under the bunched fabric of your nightgown. A groan, and his tongue darts out to meet the sticky residue of wine, tracing up your stomach.
Already making his way to your chest, Sylus pauses with a kiss to your ribs. “You are the one who awoke me after all.” His crimson eyes bore up at yours, darker than a pool of blood. “So I only hope you don’t regret the consequences of your bargain anytime soon.”
Leaning forward, the sovereign presses you into his body until there’s no space left. His tongue flattens against your nipple, moaning at the rich taste of the wine and your skin, careful to avoid piercing you just yet while you writhe and whimper. “Surely you are not thinking of retreating now?”
Sylus’s fangs graze your breast, and you arch into his touch with a gasp, the teasing prick disappearing as soon as it came, a low chuckle meeting your sensitive flesh instead. You glare down at the vampire, catching the sultry glow of his eyes as he grins a fanged smile back up at you.
Tracing your nipple again, he makes it a point never to touch you quite where you need, faux innocence in his words as he kisses up your neck, lips brushing by your pulse point as he licks up the sticky residue of wine. “Is this not what you wanted? Do you want more?”
You frown, attempting to bite back with a snarky comment until Sylus begins to thumb at your chest again, rough fingers pinching and pulling with every intention to distract you from your anger.
He’s going to have to work a little harder to get you to yield.
Now, just to get him on his knees.
Pushing Sylus down, the vampire stumbles backward into the arm of the sofa, surprise and arousal darkening his gaze as he pants up at you. Slowly, you climb onto his lap, stripping yourself of the wine-stained nightgown in one smooth motion, leaving your arms above your head as he stares at your naked form in silent worship.
Sitting up on your heels, you drag your palms down your bare skin, giving Sylus the littlest peek of a show before you pull him up by the undone collar of his coat. He still has far too much clothing on for your liking.
Sylus’s pupils were rimmed in red, eclipsed by his blown-out pupils. You watch them dilate, his eyes flickering to and from hungry slits, lips parted as you catch sight of his fangs once more, the saliva dripping down. You place a kiss against his bottom lip, smiling to yourself when he doesn’t flinch, not even when your lips catch against the tip of his fangs. So you kiss him again. And again.
Cupping his jaw, you ask, “Tell me, how do men pray?”
He almost doesn’t seem to have heard you, still worshiping your body with his gaze alone as he instinctually chases after your lips, lamenting even a breath apart.
“Sylus,” Another kiss. ”Answer me, dear husband, how do men pray?”
You ask again, but oh, he can hardly focus. He can’t even begin to find the words. How could he after all, with you looking down at him with all the promise of worship? A kind of reverence reserved for something holy, a kind of devotion a hellspawn like him could never have dreamed of in his cursed existence.
Lips of an angel and the tongue of a devil.
And it is a privilege to kneel.
Sylus falls to his knees, a dull thud echoing across the chambers. His salvation, his damnation, he has always been at your mercy. In every lifetime, in every eternity.
Holding out his arm, the vampire presses a kiss to your knuckles, offering only himself.
Your body pulses with need, and you nearly give in to him then and there when he speaks, his rough voice falling into a familiar, almost hypnotic, cadence.
“I pray to my god on my knees."
For a moment, there was only silence. But when Sylus looks up, you feel your chest ache. Thick brows are pinched together, almost pained, a visible strain around his eyes, a sight that has your core fluttering. Sylus lifts one of your legs and leaves a kiss, gentle and fleeting, on your ankle. He worships your calves, up your inner thigh, around the curves of your stomach, followed by chaste pecks, lower, and lower still.
Yet, he’s still too far to do much else, the edge of the sofa a natural barrier between you both.
You think he may keep his distance until his hands, once tracing loving circles by your hips, squeeze down, dragging you to the edge of the sofa in one swift motion, forcing your legs around his shoulders as he mouths at your cunt. From the sheer force of the movement, you’re falling backward, scrambling for purchase against the leather as you let out a silent gasp, arching your back when Sylus’s warm breath ghosts over you.
Without hesitation, Sylus parts his lips, flattening his tongue against your core, adding that thick, burning muscle to the caress of his lips as he groans at your taste. His eyes never leave yours. Every cry, every moan, every twitch, he watches your face blush with the intensity of it all, taking in your reactions with a greedy sort of hunger.
When you throw your head back with a moan Sylus nearly growls in frustration, his hand forcing your chin back up so your eyes lock back onto his. “Keep your eyes on me. Let me see you.”
He feels your pussy flutter around him at that, and yet you push on your elbows, never looking away. Good girl.
Sylus can’t wait any longer, diving back in to fuck his tongue into your needy cunt. Gods, he must be drunk off the wine and the heady, addicting taste of your slick, because from the moment he had tasted you he’d lost all semblance of sanity. He’d turned into something just short of an animal, licking and nipping at your thighs, unable to think clearly beyond the base instinct to claim.
And Sylus wants. He wants so badly it hurts.
He can’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to lose control like this.
It’s filthy, how much you’re already gushing around his face, dripping down his chin and chest, your own cries muffled into your palm as your muscles spasm under his attention. The messy, slick sounds echo in the chambers as Sylus sucks against your clit, swallowing loud enough for you to hear and moaning all the while.
Locking his arms around your thighs, Sylus pulls you impossibly closer, crushing you to his face as his eyes roll back into his skull. More, he needs more.
“Sylus, wait, please—“
At your voice, his head tilts up, forcing the high bridge of his nose against your clit with every movement, turning your words into garbled pleas. With a desperate whine, you finally begin to grind down against his face, nails sinking into his scalp, pushing Sylus further to devour you, tongue no longer enough as he laps up your release, mouth and fangs coated.
His tongue once coiling inside your soaked folds slowly flattens against your swollen clit, and, lifting his head just the slightest, Sylus stares lovedrunk as he watches you unravel. Two fingers slide into you without any resistance at all, curling just right to have you screaming. Between the delicious friction and the attention to your clit, you’re losing control fast enough to be gurgling praise as something tight builds against your core. Sylus merely grins, drunk off the feeling as more ichor gushes from your cunt.
It was better than blood, rich, dense, and addictive on his tongue.
To the saints and the stars, salvation is not deserved. And Philos be damned, his heaven is here.
You fall apart before his eyes. You cum violently around his fingers, writhing as his tongue takes mercy on you and helps your orgasm along by burying into your cunt again, fucking himself deeper with a fervent pace, never breaking eye contact. Your fingers tremble against his scalp, unable to tug against his hair as the strength flees your body, all sense of feeling replaced with heady waves of bliss as you watch yourself come undone atop your sovereign.
Still fucking you through your orgasm, Sylus watches you shake as he pushes his tongue deeper, kissing your cunt with the hunger of a starved animal, and, fuck, you feel just as ruined as you fall. Head lolling, your vision spins, barely registering the slight sting of fangs grazing your swollen, sensitive clit, your entire body convulsing from overstimulation as Sylus continues his devouring. Everything is so sensitive, and you try and squirm away only to have your legs yanked closer as Sylus growls against your cunt.
Knotting your fists against his ashy white locks, you try to wrestle his head away, but Sylus fights against your hold, addicted as you sob and quiver around him. “No, please," Gods, you sound like a mess. “Mhh—ah—too much.”
Your voice breaks with another whine, hips jerking as your back arches off the mattress, almost escaping Sylus’s punishing hold when he moves faster than you can even perceive, palm going from your thigh to your lower stomach, pinning you back down to the couch as you sob, trapped. “Please, please, ‘m too sensitive.”
Pupils blown wide with arousal, Sylus looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, the only thing on his mind being how fucking good his wife tastes.
“One more,” Sylus rasps against your heat, barely muffling a growl in the back of his throat as he licks his fingers clean. “Just give me one more. Just one more. You can take it.”
He begs again and again, murmurs buried into your cunt before he goes back to kissing your inner thighs to cease their shaking, groaning when you try to force him off again. But his strength is unwavering, and you can do nothing but take it as his tongue goes back to fucking into you.
It’s all so much, too much, and you can't wait any longer, so you ask. "Bite me."
“Getting impatient already?”
You yank on his collar, buttons popping open from the force. “I’m long past impatient. I need you. Desperately. So, won’t you please fulfill my wish and bite me, my dear husband?”
A smile, fanged and victorious. “As you wish.”
He meets you on the couch before you can even blink, the warmth of his breath caressing your throat. Sylus’s teeth scrape against the junction between your neck and shoulder, a twin to the old scar on the other side, and you brace for the sharp pin-prick of pain.
Only, it doesn't come.
You feel him smile against your skin, lips trailing up your jaw until he reaches your lips once more. His eyes are closed, lashes fluttering, and it dawns on you what he's trying to do.
Sylus was asking permission.
"Please," you whisper, and his eyes snap open.
They're no longer human.
He wastes no time, sinking his teeth into your neck and savoring the warm spray of blood mixing with your release on his tongue, and he shudders.
At first, you think the sudden wave of serenity washing over you is just the lightheadedness of blood loss. But then you recognize the lull, soft, coaxing, like champagne fizzing through your nerves. Something that quickly sharpens into animalistic desire. You're gasping, hot all over as the vampire venom seeps through your bloodstream with each mouthful of blood Sylus draws out, injected straight into your veins.
Each heartbeat pumps it deeper. It’s not meant to kill—it’s meant to open you. To relax your muscles, cloud your pain responses, heighten your reward centers until the experience itself becomes unparalleled pleasure.
You're moaning his name, clawing at his back, and Sylus can't help but groan in reply, his fangs sinking deeper as the venom quiets your flinch, sedates your panic, sharpens your craving.
Then, he drinks.
It’s consuming, drawing the lifeforce out from your veins, your head slamming back into the couch as you arch up against Sylus, your body falling to ecstasy so raw it flickers into desperation. Your jaw goes slack as heat pools dangerously fast in your lower stomach, muscles quivering and relaxing under the venom, your body heating up as you want more, more, more—
Sylus has to silence your begging with his palm. He doesn’t trust himself to stop in time if you keep begging so sweetly. The most he can do is alleviate your poor empty cunt, grinding his clothed length against you, relishing in the feeling of your dripping pussy coating his bulge, in the taste of your blood on his tongue.
He could stay here for the rest of eternity. Moaning into your neck, the lewd sucking and gulping at your skin does little to cover up your incoherent begging, and Sylus wants nothing more than to feel you around him in every way.
You, who was his only salvation, you, who has fallen with him.
"I love you," Sylus whispers, a half-formed prayer slurred against the hollow of your neck.
You smile without meaning to, swaying on the edge of unconsciousness, thoughts dissolving like blood in water, delirious and floating, sweetly undone, drunk on his venom.
“And I you.”
And it was enough.
You, your sovereign, and the world that is yet to fall.
After all, a world without you is no world worth living in.
Sylus finally pulls away with a gasp, the mix of wine and blood and your slick making him dizzy with need, the evidence of which was pressing painfully against the lacing of his pants. "More. You can give me more.”
The taste of you is like an addiction. He can’t get enough, licking and sucking your skin and getting himself higher as he bites you again, and again. His eyes roll back when you let out a long moan, when your body shivers beneath his fingertips and seeks him for release. He grinds his palm against his length, hard and twitching in his slacks, and groans.
You feel a flush rise up from the tips of your ears at the sight alone. “You’re as depraved as they get…” It’s meant to be teasing but it just comes out shaky, disrupted by your shudders as he nips at the closing wounds on your throat.
“And yet you’re the one who stayed,” Sylus says without thinking. His body seems to move on its own, his hand slipping down to rid himself of his clothes until he is just as bare as you, ripping layers of fine silk and leather to the floor. “Do you want me to be brutish?” he asks, and the growl of the beast only just faintly veiled. He watches you bite your lip and feels your body shake with anticipation and desire. “Do you want me to claim you? To be every bit the demon this village fears?”
"Oh yes, I think so," you reply, grinning. "I swore we've had this conversation before, dear vampire. Be brutal. Be harsh."
His hands are at your neck before you even see him move, tightening, and you gasp as your vision blurs, something cursed tightening in your core.
there’s something about being called your husband that sends sylus completely, utterly feral. he already knows you’re perfect for each other—knows you’re a match made in hell heaven, knows you’re the only woman alive who could ever be his. but hearing it out loud? hearing complete strangers look at the two of you and sigh, “you’re a match made in heaven,” “you’re perfect for each other”?
it does something to him—something dangerous.
because validation like that makes him want to prove it—show you just how perfect the two of you really are. show you that your bodies were made to fit, to lock together, to claim and be claimed. that you were meant to be husband and wife, bound to each other for all eternity.
“my dearest wife,” he grunts, thick cock dragging against your warm, velvet walls as he pistons into you. “look at us, look at how we fit together.”
he has one hand wrapped around your throat, forcing your gaze toward the mirror as he fucks into you from behind. and god, the reflection staring back at you is obscene—your flushed face, his broad chest pressed to your back, the way your bodies move together like they were carved to fit. his other hand slides down, spreading over your stomach, pressing firmly so you can feel just how deep his cock is inside you. the pressure rips broken, garbled moans from your throat.
his calloused fingers trail lower, finding your overstimulated clit and rubbing it with slow, devastating precision. it takes every shred of strength not to scream—because you both know you can’t be caught in this room he dragged you into, not with the party still buzzing right outside the door.
“s-sy…lus!” you gasp as his cock continues to pummel in and out of you ruthlessly. “we’ll be cau—ah, fuck!”
“don’t you worry about that, my wife.” he murmurs, lips pressed to your ear as he stares at you through the reflection of the mirror. “tell me, beloved. did playing as my wife make you this wet? or was it something else?”
your eyes roll back, breaking contact with him, but he won’t allow it. his hand gently squeezes at your throat while his other palm digs into your abdomen. “look at me, sweetheart.” he says softly but there’s an edge of darkness that demands you to comply.
you use the last bit of your power to crack your eyes open and meet his—those dark, glowing crimson eyes staring you down like he’s devouring every inch of you.
“good girl,” he coos, voice soft enough to melt you, but the praise makes you clench around him so hard he groans. “now tell me—do you like being my wife?”
sylus tilts his hips and then drives into you so sharply you have to clamp onto his forearms just to keep from keeling over.
“oh—!” your mouth drops open in a broken moan as he pounds against your cervix again and again, each thrust knocking the breath from your lungs. “yes! i lo-love being your wife—‘m your wife, ‘m your wife!”
he groans throatily at the declaration, his entire body shudders, cock twitching inside of you. “i-if you’re my wife—hah, shit—then what am i to you, hmm?”
“m-my husband—you’re, fuck, you’re my husband!” you cry out, the words tumbling from your throat as your orgasm coils tight and vicious inside you. sylus’s fingers speed up, circling your clit with ruthless precision, and it’s all it takes for you to be thrown over the edge. your vision blurs, your body locks up around him as you fall headfirst into your climax.
and sylus… sylus isn’t far behind. the second he hears you call him “husband,” his whole body jolts like you’ve shocked him. his cock swells, pulses, and then he buries himself as deep as he physically can, spilling hot, heavy ropes of cum inside you. his moans are low and raw and broken as they vibrate against your skin, each ribbon of cum—each moan that comes out of his throat warms you all the way to your core.
he holds you close to him as the both of you ride out your orgasms. when your breathing finally slows, he leans in, presses his lips to your burning ear, and whispers something meant only for you.
“i’m going to make you my wife.”
kit says… i wrote this while in heat after watching sylus’s myth event story which is why it’s loosely based off that teehee. thank u j ( @thewrldx ) for reading this over <3
Synopsis: Yeah, that stranger from the gloryhole booth? Turns out he's got military pull and a possessive streak a mile wide. Yes, he'll shut down your whole world to claim you. No, escape isn't on the menu once his obsession kicks in.
A/n: got a little lost in the sauce with this one....
The dim neon glow of the adult arcade flickered through the grimy windows as Colonel Caleb Xia pulled his cap low over his brow, slipping into the shadows of the back alley entrance. With a chest full of medals and a face that graced Farspace Fleet briefings on national TV, he couldn't afford scandals. But the weight of command, the endless strategy sessions, the lives hanging on his decisions, had left him frayed, his body humming with unspent tension. Tonight, he needed release, anonymous and raw, no strings, no faces.
He'd heard about this place from a discreet whisper in the officers' club, a seedy spot where men like him could vanish into the night. The gloryhole booth was tucked in the far corner, a narrow stall with a hole carved at waist height, shrouded in anonymity. Caleb locked the door behind him, heart pounding as he unzipped his jeans, his thick cock already half-hard from anticipation. He fed a few bills into the slot, and the partition hummed to life.
On the other side, you waited, knees on the padded floor, the thrill of the unknown sending a shiver down your spine. You'd come here for the rush, the power of being desired without the mess of expectations. The hole revealed a glimpse of tanned skin and a hardening shaft– impressive, veined, and throbbing with need. You licked your lips, leaning in to tease the tip with your tongue, swirling slow circles around the head.
Caleb groaned, low and guttural, his hands bracing against the wall. "Fuck," he muttered, voice rough from years of barking orders. Your mouth was warm, eager, sucking him in deeper with each bob of your head. He thrust gently at first, testing the waters, but the sensation built like a storm– your lips stretching around his girth, tongue flicking the underside. He was bigger than most, filling your throat as you relaxed, taking him to the hilt.
He couldn't see you, but he imagined– soft curves, hungry eyes. "That's it, take it all," he rasped, hips bucking harder. The anonymity fueled him; no repercussions, just pure, filthy pleasure. But as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking with expert pressure, he felt the edge approaching too soon. He pulled back slightly, breathing heavy, but you chased him, your hand wrapping around the base through the hole, stroking in tandem with your mouth.
"Goddamn, you're good," he growled, his control slipping. The stress melted away with each wet slurp, replaced by a fire that demanded more. He came hard, spilling down your throat in hot pulses, your swallowing milking every drop. But as he softened slightly, the ache didn't fade– it intensified. He was still hard, still needy. He slapped the partition. "Don't stop," he demanded, voice edged with command. "I need more."
You smiled around him, licking his tip clean, aroused by his desperation. Wiping your mouth, you stood, turning to press your ass against the hole, hiking up your poor excuse for a skirt. No panties– just slick, bare pussy, dripping from the taste of him. You guided his cock to your entrance, sinking back slowly, a moan escaping as he stretched you wide.
Caleb's eyes widened in the dim light. "Holy shit," he breathed, gripping the edges of the partition. You were tight, hot, clenching around him like a vice. He thrust forward, burying himself deep, the angle perfect for hitting that spot inside you. The booth shook with his rhythm, skin slapping against the wall as he fucked you relentlessly. Your hand slipped between your legs, circling your clit, chasing your own peak.
"You're so fucking wet," he panted, pace callous. "Take it, all of it." Sweat beaded on his forehead, his military-honed body driving into you with precision. He couldn't get enough– the way you pushed back, grinding, your muffled cries spurring him on. The risk, the rawness– it was intoxicating.
You came first, walls fluttering around him, soaking his cock as waves crashed over you. Caleb followed seconds later, groaning as he filled you, hips jerking erratically. But even as he pulled out, spent and slick, his body hummed for more. He leaned against the wall, catching his breath, knowing he'd be back– already craving the stranger who matched his fire.
The days blurred into a haze of briefings and bullshit for Colonel Caleb Xia. That night at the gloryhole had been a spark in the dark– anonymous, filthy, and exactly what he'd needed to cut through the tension coiled in his gut like barbed wire. But it hadn't been enough. Not by a long shot. The memory of your tight, dripping pussy clenching around his cock haunted him during staff meetings, making him shift in his seat, his dick twitching at the phantom sensation. He craved more– the risk, the raw hunger, the way you'd taken him without a word, just bodies slamming together through that thin wall.
Two nights later, he was back. He didn't even change from his regalia, yet he still slipped into the arcade like a ghost. The booth called to him, and he locked himself in, feeding bills into the machine with shaking hands. His cock was already straining against his zipper, thick and heavy, veins pulsing with anticipation. He unbuckled swiftly and freed it, stroking slowly, waiting for the signal.
On your side, the thrill hadn't faded either. You'd replayed it in your mind countless times. The gruff voice barking commands, the girth that stretched you to your limits, the hot flood of his cum filling you up, were all ample fuel for your own self explorations.
Tonight, you were ready, dressed in nothing but a short robe that you shrugged off as soon as the partition activated. Kneeling, you peered through the hole, heart racing at the sight of him: rock-hard, pre-cum beading at the tip. You didn't hesitate when it pushed through the opening, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard, tongue lashing the slit to taste his saltiness.
"Fuck yes," Caleb growled, his hips jerking forward. "Suck it like you mean it." Your mouth was a vacuum, cheeks hollowing as you took him deeper, gagging slightly when he hit the back of your throat. Drool spilled down your chin, mixing with his pre-cum, as you bobbed faster, one hand cupping his balls through the hole, rolling them gently while the other stroked what wouldn't fit. He was massive, forcing your jaw wide, but the ache only made you wetter, your thighs slick already with arousal.
He thrust into your mouth, fucking your face with military precision. Cock sliding in deep, relentless strokes that made your eyes water. "Choke on it," he rasped, voice thick with lust. "Take every inch." You did, relaxing your throat until your nose pressed against the wall, his pubes tickling through the gap. The booth reeked of sex, the wet gluck-gluck of your sucking echoing obscenely. He came with a muffled roar, flooding your mouth, cum spilling from the corners as you swallowed greedily, milking him dry.
But he didn't soften. "Not done," he panted, pulling out only to slap his still-hard cock against the hole. "Turn around. I want that sweet pussy again."
You stood, legs shaky, and backed up to the hole, spreading your cheeks to expose your soaked folds. "Fuck me," you whispered, the first words you'd spoken, voice husky and needy.
Caleb didn't need asking twice. He lined up and slammed in, burying himself balls-deep in one severe thrust. You cried out, the stretch burning deliciously, your walls fluttering around his invading girth. "Tight as fuck," he grunted, pulling back to ram in again, the partition rattling with the force. His hands gripped the edges, knuckles white, as he set a punishing pace of long, hard strokes that bottomed out, his balls slapping against the rim of the hole.
You braced against your wall, one hand reaching back to spread yourself wider, the other diving between your legs to rub your swollen clit. "Harder, Colonel," you moaned, guessing his rank from the authoritative bark in his voice and the jingle of what you thought were a chestful of medals. "Ruin me."
The title sent a jolt through him– fuck, she knew? But the anonymity held, and it only fueled his fire. "You asked for it," he snarled, pounding into you like a machine, hips snapping with enough force to bruise. Your juices squelched with each thrust, dripping down your thighs, the lewd sounds mixing with your whimpers and his grunts. He angled up, hitting your G-spot relentlessly, making stars burst behind your eyelids.
"God, you're soaking my cock," he groaned. "Cum for me– squeeze that pussy." You did, shattering around him, your orgasm ripping through you like wildfire. Walls clamping down, you screamed, body convulsing as waves of pleasure drowned you. Caleb kept fucking through it, prolonging your high, his own building fast.
But he wasn't ready to end it. "Ass," he demanded, voice raw. "Give me your ass."
You hesitated for a split second, then nodded to yourself, lubing him up with your own slick before guiding his tip to your tighter hole. "Slow at first," you breathed, pushing back.
He eased in slowly as requested, the ring of muscle yielding to his thickness. "Fuck, so tight," he hissed, sweat pouring down his back. Once seated, he waited for your signal– a wiggle of your hips– then started moving, shallow thrusts building to deeper ones. The burn turned to bliss, your fingers frantic on your clit as he claimed your ass, stretching you wide.
"Take it all, you dirty girl," he commanded, pace quickening. "I'm gonna fill this hole too." You moaned louder, the fullness overwhelming, pushing you toward another edge. He reached through the hole as best he could, his fingers finding your pussy and plunging in, fucking you in tandem. Your fingers on your clit, his cock in your ass, his fingers curling inside you, they all broke you. You came again, harder, squirting around his fingers, ass clenching rhythmically around his shaft. Caleb lost it, bellowing as he erupted, hot ropes of cum spraying your insides. He pumped through his release, drawing it out until you both trembled.
Pulling out slowly, he watched his seed leak from you, a filthy sight that had him half-hard again already. "Tomorrow," he muttered, more to himself than you. "I'll be back."
You smiled, spent and satisfied, whispering back, "I'll be waiting, Colonel." The game was on– anonymous no more in spirit, but the repercussions?
Still safely walled away.
For now.
He didn’t show the next night. In fact, he had handcuffed himself to his desk that evening and tossed the key across the office, stuck until the morning cleaning crew came in. "Self control"
Colonel Caleb Xia stared at the grainy security footage on his laptop, his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. It had been a week since that second mind-blowing encounter at the gloryhole, and the obsession had sunk its hooks deep into his soul. The way you'd whispered "Colonel" through the partition, the slick heat of your body yielding to him again and again– it wasn't just sex anymore. It was ownership. No one else could have you. The thought of you on your knees for some other faceless prick in that dingy arcade made his blood boil, a possessive rage twisting in his gut like a live wire. You were his now, whether you knew it or not.
With his rank came perks– connections in intelligence, strings he could pull without questions. First, he made a call to local authorities, citing a "national security concern" about potential illicit activities at the arcade. By morning, the place was shuttered, yellow tape crisscrossing the doors, owners scrambling under investigation for fabricated violations. No more gloryholes. No more anonymous fucks. That chapter was closed.
Next, he dug deeper. A discreet request to his tech team pulled the arcade's CCTV feeds– hacked quietly, no traces left. He fast-forwarded through hours of footage until he spotted you: the curve of your hips as you entered the booth, the sway of your ass that he recognized from the way it had ground back against him. Facial recognition software did the rest, cross-referencing public databases until it spat out your name, address, everything. You. Beautiful, elusive. You. His cock twitched just thinking about it. He sent for you immediately– a black SUV with tinted windows pulling up to your door, two stern-faced adjutants delivering a sealed envelope: "Report to Colonel Xia's office at 0800 hours. Urgent matter."
You arrived at the base gates precisely on time, heart pounding as guards waved you through after checking your ID. What the hell was this? The arcade shutdown had hit the local news, but you never imagined it connected back to him– the gruff, commanding voice from the other side of the wall. But it was all far too coincidental. Escorted to his office in a nondescript building, you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. The room was starkly military: polished steel desk piled with classified folders, walls adorned with maps on screens and commendations, the faint scent of gun oil and authority hanging in the air.
Caleb rose from his chair, his uniform crisp, medals gleaming under the fluorescent lights. At 6'2", broad-shouldered and chiseled from years of rigorous training, he was even more imposing in person– dark hair slicked back, piercing violet eyes that raked over you like he was memorizing every inch. "Sit," he commanded, voice low and gravelly, the same one that had growled filthy praises through the hole. You obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair opposite his desk, your pulse racing.
"You're the one," he said, circling around to lean against the desk in front of you, arms crossed. "The girl from the arcade. Don't deny it– I know." His gaze softened just a fraction, but there was a dark edge to it, possessive and unyielding. "I've been thinking about you non-stop. That tight little pussy, the way you took me... but I can't have you sharing that with anyone else. It's mine now. You're mine."
You swallowed hard, a mix of fear and arousal flooding your veins. "What do you want from me, Colonel?" Your voice came out steadier than you felt, but there was a breathy undertone, remembering the feel of him stretching you, especially now that you saw how handsome he was.
He reached out, his large hand cupping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. "Everything. Starting now." The conversation lingered there, charged with tension– he asked about your life, your desires. His eyes analyzed every expression that crossed your face, while listening intently to your voice, savoring the timbre like fine whiskey. "Your voice... it's even sexier than I imagined," he murmured, thumb tracing your lower lip. "Soft, but with that edge of need. And your face– fuck, you're stunning. Those eyes, begging to be ruined."
He stood then, pulling you to your feet with ease, his hands roaming slowly over your shoulders, down your arms. "Let me see you. All of you." His fingers found the hem of your shirt, lifting it inch by agonizing inch, exposing the soft skin of your stomach, the dip of your navel. He paused to trace circles there with his fingertips, watching goosebumps rise. "Perfect," he whispered, voice husky with reverence and hunger. The shirt came off over your head, tossed aside, revealing your bra. He unclasped it with expert precision, letting it fall as his eyes devoured your bare breasts– pretty, nipples already pebbling in the cool air.
"God, these tits... I've dreamed about them," he growled, cupping them gently at first, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks, making you gasp. He bent down, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, inhaling your scent. His hands slid lower, hooking into your pants, dragging them down along with your panties in one slow, deliberate motion. He knelt briefly to help you step out, his breath hot against your thighs, eyes locked on the glistening folds between your legs. "Your body is a fucking masterpiece. Every curve, every inch– mine, all mine…”
Rising, he lifted you effortlessly onto the desk, papers scattering unnoticed as he laid you back, your legs dangling over the edge. He spread your thighs wide, settling between them on his knees, his uniform brushing against your skin. "I've waited too long for this… since I licked you off my fingers and tasted heaven," he murmured, breath ghosting over your exposed pussy. He started slow, agonizingly so– his tongue flicking out to trace the outer lips, savoring the tangy sweetness of your arousal. "So wet already... tastes like heaven." He parted you with his fingers, exposing your clit, and circled it with the flat of his tongue, lazy laps that built heat gradually.
You arched, moaning softly, but he held your hips down with strong hands, forcing you to feel every deliberate stroke. He dipped lower, tongue delving into your entrance, fucking you shallowly with it, lapping up your juices like a man starved. "Mmm, so sweet," he groaned against you, vibrations sending sparks up your spine. He sucked gently on your folds, then returned to your clit, alternating between soft suckles and slow, swirling licks, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, begging incoherently. He savored every twitch, every gasp, his eyes flicking up to watch your face contort in ecstasy.
Only when you were on the brink did he pull back, kissing his way up your body. His mouth latched onto one breast, sucking the nipple into his warm mouth, tongue flicking and teeth grazing just enough to sting sweetly. He switched to the other, hands kneading the soft flesh, rolling the neglected peak between his fingers. "These tits are perfect for me," he rasped, voice muffled against your skin. "Gonna fuck them now."
He stood, shedding his uniform jacket and shirt quickly, revealing a sculpted chest dusted with dark hair, abs rippling as he freed his massive cock– thick, veined, already leaking pre-cum. He straddled your torso on the desk, positioning himself between your breasts. You pushed them together eagerly, enveloping his shaft in soft, warm flesh. He thrust slowly at first, the head of his cock emerging near your mouth with each pump. You leaned forward hungrily, tongue darting out to lick the tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum, then sucking it into your mouth as he pushed forward.
"Fuck, yes– suck it while I fuck these tits," he groaned, pace building, hips rocking steadily. The slide was slick from your saliva and his pre-cum, the sensation filthy and intimate. You swirled your tongue around the head each time it breached, hollowing your cheeks to draw him in deeper on the upthrust. His balls tightened, breaths coming in ragged pants. "Gonna cum– swallow it all, baby." He erupted with a raucous hiss, hot spurts painting your tongue and throat as you gulped greedily, not missing a drop, milking him with your mouth and the press of your breasts.
But he wasn't done. Far from it. His cock stayed semi-hard, twitching with residual need. He slid off the desk, sinking into his chair and pulling you with him. "Straddle me," he ordered.
You climbed onto his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, your dripping pussy hovering over his length. The heat radiating from his cock brushed against your slick folds, a teasing promise that made your inner muscles clench in anticipation. He guided you down slowly, the broad head parting your lips with a slick glide, stretching your entrance wide as he filled you completely. Your pretty velvet walls yielding to his girth, the veins along his shaft dragging against sensitive nerves, sending tiny sparks of electricity up your spine. Buried to the hilt, he held still, your bodies locked in intimate fullness.
"Just sit there, for a few minutes," he murmured, his hand sliding to your lower belly. "Look at how well we fit together…” He pressed harder into the form of him stretching you inside, making you squirm. He stilled his hand quickly, determined to prolong being inside you, to test his self control with you.
How cute.
His fingers brushed a stray lock from your forehead, calluses scraping lightly against your skin, leaving a trail of warmth. He gazed intently into your eyes, violet depths stormy with determination, close enough that you could count the faint freckles dusting the bridge of his nose and cheeks, like stars scattered across a rugged sky.
His thick shaft pulsed inside your walls, a rhythmic throb that matched the frantic beat of your heart, but no movement came, just the torturous intimacy of being stuffed full, your juices trickling down to coat his balls where they nestled against your ass. Every subtle shift of your weight sent ripples of sensation through you, your clit grazing the coarse hair at his base, swollen and aching for friction.
“You know I handcuffed myself, just so I wouldn't crawl back to you..” He admitted, his breath hot against your ear, lips brushing the shell as he spoke.
“What?” Your voice came out breathy, the word trembling as another pulse from his cock made your walls flutter involuntarily around him, squeezing in a way that drew a soft hiss from his lips.
“Yeah, I was really…crazy about you…” He looked away, jaw tightening, the muscle there flexing under his stubbled skin, but his hand stayed firm on your tummy, thumbs tracing idle circles over the bulge of his tip inside you, the touch both soothing and maddening.
“A gloryhole girl?” You teasingly questioned, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails biting into the firm muscle as you fought the urge to rock against him, the fullness bordering on overwhelming, every inch of him pressing against spots that made your toes curl.
“Yeah..” His gaze flicked back to yours, darker now, pupils eclipsing irises, “I really wanted you to myself..” He leaned in to press his forehead against yours, noses brushing, breaths mingling in the scant space between your lips.
“That’s nice and all…but can..can I move?” You squirmed, your hips twitching despite his grip, the motion causing his cock to shift ever so slightly inside you, a delicious drag that pulled a whimper from your throat and made your thighs tremble against his.
“Not yet..” he shushed with a commanding lilt, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head, exposing your neck. He nuzzled there, lips grazing your pulse point, feeling it race under his touch.
Minutes ticked by, the clock on the wall marking each agonizing second with a soft tick-tock that seemed to echo the throb of him inside you. Your body ached, a deep, insistent burn building from the stillness– clit throbbing against his pubic bone, the wiry hairs there tickling your sensitive nub with every shallow breath you took. Slick gathered where you were joined, warm and sticky, pooling on his skin as your arousal built. You could feel the tension coiling in him too, the way his cock twitches sporadically, swelling just a fraction more, stretching you further. His chest rose and fell faster against your breasts making your nipples harden from the friction of his skin.
You squirmed again, trying to grind down, chasing that elusive spark, but his hand clamped tighter on your hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you immobile with unyielding strength. The denial only heightened everything. Your walls rippled around him in futile protest, milking him without motion.
"Patience," he whispered, nipping your earlobe sharply, the sting blooming into heat that shot straight to your core, making you clench around him involuntarily. He groaned low in his throat at the sensation, his restraint visibly fraying– eyes blazing with intensity, lids heavy, breaths coming in short, controlled pants as he fought the urge. His cock jumped inside you, a powerful throb that pressed against your G-spot, teasing without relief, and you felt his thighs tense beneath you, muscles bunching like coiled springs.
Another minute dragged on, the air heavy with unspoken need, your skin flushing hot, sweat beading along your spine and trickling down to where your bodies met. He shifted minutely, not thrusting but adjusting, the movement making his length nudge deeper, the head kissing your cervix in a way that made stars dance behind your eyelids.
“Mm–”you whimpered softly and his control splintered, piece by piece. His hips rocked once subtly, barely perceptible, yet enough to make you gasp. The sound sends him into a deeper grind, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, circling slowly to build the friction you’d been craving. His eyes locked on yours, drinking in every flicker of pleasure, his expression twisting with hunger he could no longer leash.
"Dammit, can't wait anymore," he growled, voice rough and edged with desperation, his hands sliding to your ass, gripping hard as he finally gave in. "Need to fuck you.”
He started slow, thrusting up into you with filthy-soft rolls of his hips– deep, languid strokes that dragged along every sensitive ridge inside you. "So tight, so perfect for me," he murmured, lips brushing your neck, one hand sliding up to pinch your nipple while the other gripped your ass, guiding your subtle bounces. The pace was sensual, drawn-out, each upward surge making your breasts jiggle, your moans syncing with his grunts.
But the possessiveness built, his thrusts turning harder, faster. "No one else gets this," he growled, standing abruptly with you impaled on him, strong arms supporting your weight. He spun you around, bending you over the desk– ass up, face down on the cool wood. Papers crunched under you as he slammed back in, pounding relentlessly, balls slapping against your clit with each brutal thrust. "You're mine– say it," he demanded, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other spanking your ass sharply, leaving red handprints.
"Yours," you cried out, the coil in your belly snapping as he hit that deep spot over and over, the friction overwhelming. Your orgasm crashed through you, walls spasming around him, juices soaking his cock. He followed with a roar, flooding you with hot cum, claiming you utterly as he collapsed over your back, both of you panting in the afterglow of his obsessive desire.
Caleb's weight pressed down on you, his chest heaving against your back, the mingled sweat of your bodies making your skin stick together in the humid confines of his office. His cock, still semi-hard and buried deep inside your fluttering pussy, twitched with aftershocks. A slow leak of his cum trickling out around where you were joined, warm and sticky as it dripped down your inner thighs. The desk beneath you was a mess of papers scattered and ink smudged from your palms. The cool wood now warmed by the heat of your cheek pressed against it. His breath fanned hot across your neck, ragged and satisfied, but you could feel the tension still thrumming in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed possessively on your hip. He wasn't done. Not even close.
With a low grunt that vibrated through you, he straightened up slowly, his hands sliding along your sides, tracing the curve of your waist before gripping hard enough to bruise. "That was just the warmup," he rasped, voice dark and edged with that hunger that made your pulse spike anew. His cock slipped free with a wet pop, leaving you empty and aching, a gush of mixed fluids spilling onto the desk. He spun you around to face him, your ass perched on the edge, legs dangling weakly as he towered over you, eyes raking down your flushed, sweat-glistened body like a predator sizing up prey.
"Need you rougher this time," he muttered, more to himself than you, his large hands shoving your thighs apart wider, exposing your swollen, cum-smeared pussy to the cool air. The sting of overstimulation hit as his thumb brushed your clit, circling roughly, not gentle anymore– pressing hard, flicking with enough force to make you jolt and whimper. "Gonna fuck you until every part of you remembers who owns this body." He grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head against the desk's surface, the wood creaking under the pressure. His free hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, nipping hard enough to leave a mark.
You gasped as he shoved two thick fingers into your pussy without warning, curling them deep and scissoring roughly, stretching you further while his thumb ground against your clit in furious circles. Your hips bucked involuntarily into his hand despite the raw sensitivity. "Look at you, still dripping for me," he snarled, pumping his fingers faster, the heel of his palm slapping against your mound with each thrust. "This cunt is mine– gonna ruin it for anyone else." He added a third finger, your walls clenching around the intrusion as he twisted them, hitting your G-spot with punishing accuracy, forcing a cry from your lips.
"Too much– please– ”
His mouth crashed down on yours then, not a kiss but a claim. Roughly invading your mouth with his tongue, teeth clashing. He bit your lower lip until you tasted the faint copper of blood. He pulled his fingers free abruptly, slick-coated and glistening, and shoved them into your mouth replacing his tongue on yours, forcing you to suck them clean. "Taste us," he commanded, eyes locked on yours as you obeyed, tongue swirling around his digits, the salty tang of cum and arousal flooding your senses. His cock, fully hard again and throbbing angrily against your thigh, left a trail of pre-cum on your skin as he rutted against you.
“Fuck– you're perfect for me....”
He flipped you onto your stomach again, your breasts flattening against the desk, nipples scraping the rough edges of scattered files. He kicked your legs wider, one boot hooking around your ankle to spread you open, vulnerable. "Ass up higher," he barked, slapping your cheek hard– the crack echoing, heat blooming instantly across your skin. You arched as best you could, presenting yourself. He rewarded you with another smack, then another, alternating sides until your ass burned red, each impact jolting through you, making your pussy clench emptily.
He lined up his cock, the head nudging your entrance, but instead of easing in, he slammed forward in one vicious thrust, burying himself to the balls. The force shoved you forward, desk drawers rattling, a stapler clattering to the floor. "Fuck!" you yelped, the stretch bordering on pain, but he didn't give you time to adjust– pulling back almost fully before ramming in again, setting a harsh rhythm. His hips snapped against your ass with skin-slapping intensity, balls swinging to smack your clit on every downstroke, the friction building a fire that made your vision blur.
"Take it," he grunted, one hand fisting into your hair, pulling you into a deeper bend. The other gripped your hip like a vice, pulling you back onto him with each punishing drive. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your back, sliding down your spine as he fucked you relentlessly, the desk groaning under the assault. He leaned over you, teeth sinking into your shoulder, marking you as his cock dragged along your inner walls, veins pulsing, head battering your cervix with every thrust. "Scream for me– let the whole base know you're mine." He held your head back more as he pistoned into you.
Your moans turned to wails, the coil in your belly tightening impossibly as he reached around, fingers finding your clit and pinching hard, rolling it between thumb and forefinger with rough tugs. The overstimulation was exquisite agony, your body trembling, thighs quaking as another orgasm built fast and fierce. He felt it coming, his pace faltering into erratic, deeper jabs. "Cum on my cock– milk me dry," he demanded, spanking you again for emphasis.
Your vision whited out, coming as he ordered, walls convulsing around him in violent spasms. You squirted slick that soaked his thighs and puddled on the floor. He groaned loudly as your pussy clamped down hard around his length, your liquid squirting out and coating his balls and thighs. It's the hottest fucking thing he's ever seen or felt. He roared, thrusting through your climax, prolonging it until you were sobbing, oversensitive and boneless. Only then did he let go, hips stammering as he flooded you again, hot ropes of cum painting your insides, overflowing to drip out of your pussy with each pulse.
He stayed buried for a long moment, both of you panting, his body draped over yours like a possessive cage. Slowly, he pulled out, watching with dark satisfaction as his seed leaked from your abused pussy. "Good girl," he murmured, the roughness fading into something softer, though the obsession lingered in his eyes.
Gently now, he scooped you up, cradling you against his chest as he sank back into his chair, your limp form nestled in his lap. His hands, callused but tender, stroked your back in soothing circles, tracing the marks he'd left– the bites, the bruises– with a reverence that bordered on worship. "Shh, I've got you," he whispered, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your eyelids, your tear-streaked cheeks. The shift was startling, like a storm giving way to calm.
He reached for a drawer, pulling out a soft blanket– military issue, but clean and warm– and draped it over you both, tucking it around your shoulders. His fingers stroked over your hair, while his other hand rubbed your spanked ass gently, massaging away the sting. "You were perfect," he praised, voice low and reassuring, nuzzling your neck. "No more arcade. No more gloryholes. You're done with that life– I shut it down for good. You'll stay with me now. I'll take care of everything– housing on base, whatever you need. No one touches you but me."
You nestled closer, fucked-out and exhausted, his heartbeat steady under your ear. He fetched a water bottle from his desk, holding it to your lips, encouraging you to sip slowly, then wiped your face with a tissue, cleaning away smudged makeup and drying sweat. "Rest now," he said, rocking you slightly, his arms a secure cage around you. "When you're ready, I'll draw you a bath back at my quarters. Cook you dinner. You're mine to cherish, too– not just fuck." His grip tightened just enough to remind you of the claim beneath his whispers, the kind of hold that blurred the line between protection and permanence, leaving no room for thoughts of escape.
sum: every other day, you returned, drawn to the temple like it possessed a heartbeat that synced with yours. initially, it was to clean; to repay that unseen kindness it offered when the storm cut like needles that night. the more you visited, the more the temple started to feel like it breathed. tonight, the candles at the altar all burn for you.
cw: fallen!god au, female anatomy described, cunnilingus, yearning, praise, light degradation, restraints, explicit language, size difference, belly bulge, brief alcohol mention, overstimulation, pain before pleasure, 12k wc
notes: phew! after nearly a year of putting this off since sylus’ second myth, it is finally here. thank you @darkeskye for putting up with my whining and imposter syndrome, and for helping me get through this. thanks so much for reading! recommended tunes.
The steering wheel rattles in your palms as your Jeep weathers the familiar road pebbled with stones.
The sky streaks orange behind you, a smudge of pastel colors colliding with the pristine sea. Seabirds chant in the distance. Wayward branches slap against your windshield as music fills the cabin.
It’s peaceful out as the day lazily concedes to nightfall. It’s been calm on this road lately, as if some greater force is holding the heavens apart to make your journey less arduous.
You arrive at a clearing haloed by towering trees. Roots crack beneath your tires when you draw the vehicle to a stop. You kill the engine, the serene burr of the forest unfolding as if welcoming you with a red carpet.
A smile warms your lips. Something near excitement slowly puddles in your chest.
Peeling yourself from the driver’s seat, you round the vehicle to fetch your pack from the trunk. After slinging it onto your shoulders and adjusting the straps, you glance skyward, hand raised to shield your eyes from the sun’s brilliance.
Amber light dapples the ground through the leaves above. It’s enough to get you to your final destination with daylight to spare.
Looking to the sloped path ahead, adorned with local flora and sea-weathered trees bending outwards like they’re bowing, you test the durability of your soles before beginning your hike.
It’s humid. Not unpleasant, but enough to bathe your skin in a dewy sheen of sweat. The path is too narrow and steep for your Jeep to navigate. Not that you mind walking, with distant ocean waves licking the shoreline and wings fluttering in the treetops, offering you company.
You know this trail like it’s etched onto the surface of your brain. How many steps it takes before reaching the cliff. Where the density of the forest fades, where mangled roots and loose gravel yield to stone. It’s become something of a weekly pilgrimage. A ritual sewn so deeply into the fabric of your routine, you feel antsy when you don’t make it out to this side of the island.
By the time you reach the top, winded yet exhilarated from the climb, a familiar stone arch greets you, its tip shining like polished gold held to the sun. It scrapes the sky, half-buried under moss and vines winding through cracks formed from years of disrepair. Despite its age, it’s still impressive, siphoning your breath when your shoes scrub to a stop at its threshold.
As you ascend the stairs leading past the archway, you’re flanked by two statues on the rails, eroded by time. One is birdlike, massive wings folded towards a bowed back, a talon raised in offering. The other statue is broken in half—destroyed by the storms, no doubt—with a stone bowl at its feet.
You recall the words of the locals as you pull on your pack’s strap, how their eyes creased with wistfulness whenever you inquired about this place. They recited the same line as if it were second nature. A quiet, mindless part of their culture whispered down since their ancestors inhabited this island.
“To receive, you must give selflessly.”
You pat the partially intact sculpture on its crown before ascending the remaining steps.
The entrance trembles when compared to the temple beyond, hidden at the top by centuries of overgrowth.
Wild ivy coils around cracked columns. Warped trees push through the remnants of a collapsed roof, replacing it. The temple’s inner sanctum is mostly intact, save for uneven stones jutting from the floor, moss blooming from the seams, and the walls yellowed by time.
When compared to how it looked a few months ago, it’s a pleasant change. No longer covered with graffiti or littered with beer cans and broken glass left by squatters. The air is still rife with dust, mildew, and sea spray. But the temple seems more alive now. Like it’s slowly releasing a centuries-old breath, courtesy of you putting your hands and Amazon Prime to good use.
Removing your backpack, you collapse the distance between you and the altar. Kneeling, you swipe a careful hand over the textured dais, a plume of dust stirring in the remaining sunlight. It’s warm here, an ancient, featherlike glyph carved into the platform’s surface beneath your palm. The warmth reminds you of a hand holding yours, squeezing it in a wordless greeting.
After admiring the cipher for a beat longer, you set your bag down beside you. The jarring sound of the zipper reverberates off the high walls, competing with the waves crashing against the cliffside. Once opened, you procure a set of gifts from inside, coupled with your textbook and a water canteen.
In your palms, you cradle vibrant hibiscus flowers—replacements for the wilted ones on the altar you brought last week. Next comes a cheesecloth filled with pastries you snagged from the night market. There would’ve been more, but someone couldn’t resist sampling some, the tart marriage of blackberries and dough reminding you of home.
Lastly, you place the blanket, frayed at the ends but thoroughly loved with your scent enmeshed in its intricate weave, onto the altar. It’s brought you comfort many nights. Maybe it’ll help warm whatever cold soul still haunts this sacred place.
They’re mindless, the things you bring. Thoughtless. Pieces of you that would be useless to someone else.
You never expect anything in return when you visit. Never anticipate anyone, let alone a god, responding to your voice carrying prayer and mindless chatter. But it feels nice to bring something, even if it will rot and collect dust, to the place that offered you reprieve when the storm cut like glacial, jagged sheets across your skin that night.
When you’re satisfied with your arrangement, you lean against a wall, a contented sigh pushing through your nostrils. You swirl the canteen in your hands after a swig, watching as the final vestiges of sunlight wane through the canopy, giving way to the soft spill of stars and moonlight.
Before the clouds sweep in, you begin the other half of your ritual, pulling a lighter from your pocket and bounding around the temple to light the candles you brought some months back. The sanctum blooms with soft light, growing warmer like a hug to thank you for chasing away the darkness.
You cross the temple again to pick up your book, hunkering down in an alcove to review some study material.
You enjoy coming here, escaping from the languid buzz of the town on the island’s other side to bask in the serenity. There might not be a god left here to worship, to bring offerings to, to exalt. But that’s alright.
To you, this place is a living, pulsing thing left behind in his absence. And, like a fallen god, it grows lonely when there’s no one left to scrub spray paint from its walls and to sweep cobwebs from its jaded ceiling.
Essentially, you’re comforting this shrine. Safeguarding it. Repaying it for sparing you space beneath its wings, sheltering you until the waves calmed and the lightning receded.
With your book in hand, knees tucked to your chest, and a quiet smile warming your face, you let the waves and wind threading through the treetops comfort you, blissfully unaware of the shadows opposite the altar pulling away from the candlelight’s dance.
—
In the native tongue, he’s known as Stayrus.
Owner of the sacred temple you’ve converted into a book nook.
In your language, his name translates to Sylus. Not nearly as cool as the former, and in your humblest opinion, just as easy to pronounce.
After that fateful night his sanctuary shielded you from the storm you wandered into, you did some digging.
You were pretty new to the island. A wanderer seeking reprieve from the city, hoping to continue their studies somewhere less fast-paced. More ambience. More freedom. You were a beach baby at heart, pining for the salt-stained air and sand scraping the interstices of your toes.
Through the local markets, fishing boats docked at the shore, and some sketchy Google searching, you’d gleaned that Stayrus was once a prolific god. He’d also become a fallen one as the centuries progressed until he vanished like the smoke of a pinched-out flame.
Stayrus. God of Wealth.
Not the sort of deity who blessed greedy merchants with gold and fattened monarchs’ pockets. He didn’t pull mermen from the sea, dropping them at the feet of fishermen unwilling to work for his blessings. Coins didn’t rain from the sky following a thoughtless offering, and paupers weren’t suddenly donning priceless gems on their fingers.
No.
Stayrus governed true abundance. Prosperity earned through courage, resiliency, and a little patience. Fortune amassed from weathering storms, literal and figurative. He rewarded diligence. Sweat. Blood. Sacrifice. Selflessness.
Once, his shrine overlooking the coast was a popular pilgrimage site. Sailors left rum and tokens bearing the silhouettes of their ships at his altar. Farmers placed baskets of the first blooms of their harvests at the entrance. Traders adorned the steps with jewel-encrusted urns and lamps. His shrine once glittered like gold in the setting sun, it was so full of gifts. Couples tied red strings around the pillars, binding them to their clasped hands, praying for an unyielding future together.
But, like the tide, the worship waned. Empires came and fell. Beliefs changed. The world moved on, and people all but forgot about the beautiful deity who kept the sea in harmony and the town prosperous.
At first, the natives didn’t speak of him to you as if they were taking part in a casual conversation about the weather.
When you first inquired about the decrepit temple hidden by time and overgrowth, everyone looked at you like you’d grown a second head. Their gazes were flighty when they glanced at each other, as if you’d dug up a piece of the island’s past that should’ve stayed a murmur beneath the sand.
You gently pressed until someone caved. An older native, grey hair gathered in a braid down her back, hands weathered and mottled by years working in the sun. With a reluctant sigh, she dropped the dried sage into her basket, dusted her hands off her apron, and cautiously took you by the wrist.
She tugged you beneath the awning of her shop, glancing about with wariness lining her worn features. After wetting her lips with her tongue, she cradled both your hands in hers. Spoke low, the ambience of the beach threatening to swallow her words whole.
“Our ancestors called him The Keeper of Full Hands.”
You snorted at that, biting your lips when the older woman shot you a look. People weren't very good with names around here, were they? Ah well. You couldn’t complain. Stories passed down through word of mouth were more valuable than crumbs of information scraped from Reddit.
Through her, you learned that Stayrus wasn’t merely the God of Wealth because he could craft gold from thin air and grant impossible wishes.
He blessed people with what they needed rather than what they wanted. Food to survive the elements. Luck to keep the turbulent waves from sinking ships. Enough fortune to provide for their families. Shelter to stave off the world’s cruelty. Sunlight for their crops—despite how much he was rumored to abhor it—and rainfall to feed the fields that sustained livestock.
“Abundance without greed,” came her wistful words as she studied your hands clasped in hers. Crow’s feet creased her eyes when she peered at you with a smile. “That was his way. The words passed to us from our families and beyond.”
You continued to listen intently, your heart in your throat, after she guided you to sit whilst she finished stringing up her herbs and gave you her back.
“He punished greed. Thieves. Those who took more than what was given and thrived off the misery of others.”
The woman scooped up another handful of herbs, continuing her ritual of tying them together to be sold at her stall. Her voice steeped like she was winded. That, or like speaking of the fallen deity aloud would somehow invoke him after centuries of silence.
“The last noble family that lived here tried to tear down his temple. They pilfered the offerings left at his altar and pocketed them. Desecrated the walls with nonsensical symbols for their own rituals. Spoke ill of him like he was an imposter masquerading as a god.”
Wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, the shopkeeper laughed, her eyes lighting with the remnants of her youth. The sea breeze swept in, pulling some hair loose from her braid like the elements were taking part in her mirth.
“The sea swallowed their estate within weeks of them moving here. Crumbled up with the cliffs. No survivors. Not even rubble to show for it.”
A glacial chill racked your spine. You huffed an anxious breath disguised as a laugh, toying with the threads of your clothes. Whoever Stayrus was, he was no one to sneeze at.
Gratefully, the older woman continued, disrupting the fear pricking your chest.
“Times have changed since then. People no longer exalt gods who demand humility. Humans want wealth that grows without end. Instant gratification. No giving to receive.”
With her hands resting at the edge of the table, the woman exhaled, slowly looking at you with somberness knitting her brows.
“Stayrus taught my ancestors balance. Punished wastefulness and those who demanded excess. He believed in gratitude over obsession. When we forgot that, he disappeared.”
Her eyes softened when you stood beside her, leaning against the table’s edge with your arms crossed over your chest, lips scrawled into a pensive line.
“Stayrus’ sanctuary fell quiet. He stopped answering prayers. Stopped holding back the storms. With time, reverence became fear. Fear bred hatred. And soon, everyone just…stopped believing.”
Following a dramatic pause, the woman pressed a bundle of lavender into your hands. Pat your wrist for good measure before returning her attention to her basket. The shift in her demeanor nearly gave you whiplash.
“If you ever go up to his temple, bring an offering. He might be dormant now, but who’s to say he isn’t waiting for someone worthy to bring him back?”
The grin she flashed didn’t bode well. Had you been more attentive, you would’ve realized she was foreshadowing your fate. Almost like she was in cahoots with the slumbering deity.
“Back then, he favored sincerity. Be intentional with what you bring and what you ask of him in return. To receive, you must give selflessly. If you’re patient, maybe he’ll bless you after all this time.”
With that, the conversation petered out, making way for the symphony of dried shrubbery working between the woman’s hands, her soft humming amid the caw of passing birds, and your pulse quivering in your neck.
—
Tonight, the temple breathes differently.
It’s still warm, offering its hands beneath the soft spill of stars like a god extending mercy to those without a home to return to. But its heartbeat feels slower. A docile beast beneath your palm as you walk into its maw, touching the wall like an archeologist unearthing a hundred-year secret.
Your veins are warm with rum. The friends you made in town insisted you try some when you wandered to the beach to wet your feet. They looked wary when they tried to invite you to the boardwalk, and you insisted you had somewhere else to be. Almost like everyone knew something you didn’t.
It’s been a week since you last set foot in Stayrus’ temple.
The candles you arranged on the windowsills remain untouched, wax pooled around their stems. There are a few leaves scattered on the ground. Brine in the air. But the shrine otherwise looks the same way you left it—tidy, sleepy, quiet, godless.
Your offerings at the altar lay unchanged, save for the hibiscus flowers curling into themselves in decay.
“Sorry,” you murmur with a kneel, sweeping away the wilted petals, and replacing them with fresh blooms your new companions helped you pluck. “Got caught up with life. Forgot to stop by and say hi.”
You run your hand over the raised dais in apology. Talking to an inanimate object—a temple—like it’ll answer back. Accept your bid for penance. There’s a new candle in the altar’s center, the wick white and unburned. You don’t recall it being there before, but you don’t always keep track of everything you leave here.
Luckily, you keep the lighter tucked in your pocket. You light the candle, the slow exhale of the flame dancing over your features. You murmur a prayer to the sea-salted air. Words of thanks. Another apology. Sorry for leaving you alone. For taking so long to come back.
Like always, you don’t expect a reply. Sometimes just talking helps you feel a sense of peace. A god needs memory to live. Even if you’re the only person to keep that flame of remembrance burning, you figure it’s worth a shot.
Your lids lower as you slump against the altar, a small smile twitching your lips. You’re feeling good from the alcohol. Not completely gone, but that pleasant sway between coherency and inebriation.
It isn’t until the candle flickers, quivering like a skittish animal in your periphery, that you sense a change in the atmosphere.
The air feels heavier. The silence is fuller, your ears ringing to dampen the symphony of the forest birds and insects outside.
A whisper touches your ear. What feels like deft fingertips, graze your shoulder. You spin towards the source of the disquiet, your eyes landing on the moon-laden path of the ruins’ entrance, inebriation a distant memory.
Something feels off in a way you can’t describe. A roiling, pinching feeling in your stomach, hairs standing ramrod stiff along your body, instinct telling you this isn’t right.
You stand and investigate, convinced that some kids are playing a prank on you. When you find no one but the outline of tree branches on the stone steps, you lean against the threshold, trying to gather your bearings.
Maybe you shouldn’t have drank. Because when you glance at the altar, you swear the shadows behind it are moving. Stretching, warping, yawning like a long-slumbering beast awoken from its nap. And the candles perched by the windows—they’re lit.
When the shadows peel away, retreating behind the column, fear roots you to the spot. Your eyes tend to play tricks on you, but not to this extent.
The particles in the air shift, piling into something ominous. An amorphous figure takes shape. You hold your breath when it steps from behind the column as if summoned from the darkness, slowly uncovering itself like waves pulling back from the sand.
It moves, unhurried, languid, like it knows you. Like it’s been waiting for you longer than you can fathom.
Your heart pulses with each measured, bare scrape of feet against the temple’s floor.
An ivory cloak trembles as it moves, trimmed with gold that catches in the moonlight and beads that rake the ground. Scarlet glows from beneath, burning down to the hulls of your soul. The figure, a good head and shoulders above you, stops at the altar’s side, making even the shadows shudder in their presence.
“You’re late,” croaks the sanctum’s new occupant, speaking as casually as they would to a longtime friend.
It’s pleasant yet unsettling, that voice. Gruff yet disarming. Ancient. Otherworldly. A sound mortal ears weren’t meant to hear. You don’t know whether to run or remain still. And then, the being peels back the hood of their cloak in a dramatic flourish, your eyes widening with the revelation.
The air thickens around you. You can’t help but stare, nearly swallowing your tongue. The being—a man—scrutinizes you with his lips drawn into a pensive line. A furrow between his brows. Hair reminiscent of seafoam, half-tied in a knot, whilst the rest waterfalls off his shoulders and down his back.
The silence threads itself into something restricting. A snake coiling around your neck, threatening to cut the air from your lungs. The pressure he emits feels familiar, like the coast’s warmth coalesced into one.
So distracted by this man’s beauty, you hardly register his earlier statement until reality slams back in, and you blink rapidly, trying your damndest to sober up.
“I’m sorry, what?”
The man shifts, one hip poked out, arms folding over a broad chest. Even through the hang of his cloak, you can make out the masculine shape of his body. His expression doesn’t change. Still annoyed that you could be so daft.
“You’re late, mortal. You were gone for far too long.”
His words hang in the air like the brine from the sea, like the moon rays pouring through the canopy above, limning him in its ethereal light. They’re more of a statement than a question. An admonishment wrapped in the celestial calm of a deity.
Deity?
Wait…what?
Realization descends, your mouth agape. You’d read about this—details of the once prolific God of Wealth.
The locals fed you scraps of what he looked like. Yellowed journals from ancient seafarers you found in the library gave you brief descriptions. Forum posts and artistic renditions online barely quenched your curiosity. The accounts varied, though some things remained consistent across each encounter: white hair, red eyes, a youthful face, an unmistakable nose.
Something tightens in your chest. Your throat burns. Adrenaline spumes like lava through you, your body caught in a state of fight-or-flight. Any normal person would likely run, never to return. Bury the memory of what they saw in the deepest regions of their mind.
You?
You…you laugh. Incredulously. Fearfully. Still a laugh despite the gravity of your situation. Not only has a god, once thought to have disappeared from this world forever, manifested himself before you, flesh, ichor, beating heart. But now he’s scolding you.
Blinking, you scrape your nerves from the ground, an anxious tilt to your lips. “Uh, yeah. I had plans, and…things happened. Wait, what the hell am I saying?”
You shake your head, hoping to call up some sense. You have to be dreaming. A product of sleepless nights and stress from overwhelming yourself with your studies. Maybe the alcohol still singing your skin. No matter how much you try to make sense of things, the glowing man in white doesn’t leave, still very much real, and…is he pouting?
The being narrows his eyes, looking like you’ve just insulted him. “You used to visit me religiously,” he says, his voice thick and carved from centuries-old stone. “Then you vanished for a week as if the sea swallowed you.”
Unfolding his arms, the man—whom you’ve accepted is Stayrus—steps forward, the jewels lining his cloak clinking with each movement. He doesn’t release you from the pull of his gaze, halfway cautious like he’s approaching a wounded, cornered beast.
“Your offerings stopped. The temple grew quiet. Your absence was louder than the tide.”
Your neck strains as you behold him. He’s close, exuding the heat of the sun and smelling of cloves and incense and freshly-spawned moss. You can do nothing but swallow, as if the god has compelled you to remain anchored to this spot.
“Mortals do not simply disappear from a god who shelters them. Especially not the only one who still speaks to him.”
His pause is brittle. He looks to the side, reminding you of a haughty child. Your chest swells, your lips threatening to spread into a smile. You should be terrified. On your knees, begging for forgiveness. For your life. Perhaps halfway across the island, screaming bloody murder, thinking you’ve gone insane.
Instead, you brim with a warm sensation. Pride? Excitement? And—
Did…did he miss you?
As if sensing your thoughts, parsing through the layers of your silence, the deity continues, his voice steeped with thoughtfulness. “I had grown accustomed to you, mortal. While you were away, these grounds felt hollow.”
Almost as if he’d felt abandoned again, you finish internally.
You flinch when his hand lifts, tanned and uncharacteristically weathered for a god, expecting him to strike you for your insolence. For a crime you were unaware you had committed. Closing your eyes, you brace for divine punishment.
But it doesn’t come as you expect. Instead, you release an indignant sound when Stayrus, the immortal god of unfathomable wealth, harbinger of doom, capable of ripping this land asunder, flicks you between your brows.
Rubbing your head, you hardly have time to reel back before the deity bends, hands on hips, peering at you with eyes spun of playfulness and something undecipherable. His voice descends, soft, forlorn.
“Do not disappear without warning again, little mortal. I find I do not enjoy it. Not when I’ve grown so fond of your voice and the gifts you bring.”
That nearly knocks you off your feet. He was…fond of you?
He studies you the way the sun surveys the skyline before tucking itself away for the night. Your mouth hinges open, words dying in your throat. Somehow, you envisioned this would be easier, speaking with a god who’s existed as long as the universe.
What does one honestly say in this situation? Sure? Roger? It’ll never happen again, good sir?
Sensing your plight, Stayrus taps your chin, encouraging you to close your mouth. It’s brief, but it’s enough to ignite fire in your chest. His eyes shine with this youthful amusement that sends your stomach plummeting to your feet.
Since the English language eludes you, you meekly nod, still thinking you’re living through a dream sequence. A terrifyingly realistic one, where you can clearly make out the texture of his skin and feel the heat of his body seep into your bones.
The deity steps back when he’s satisfied with your answer, yet to release you from his omniscient gaze. You’re unable to help yourself in the impending silence, staring like he’ll disappear if you look away.
No book, alleged firsthand account, or exaggerated artwork can compare to the real thing. Not even your imagination can measure up to this.
Stayrus is devastatingly beautiful. So gorgeous, your throat wells, and your eyes burn with the promise of something wet. He’s not attractive in the conventional sense. Not in the way mortals describe each other. He is unimaginably ethereal. Could sink ships with a face like that. Cause the tectonic plates to shift with the size of his body, power brewing beneath the wispy sweep of his cloak.
His hair is reminiscent of moonlight refracted off calm waves. His eyes shine like dusk piling on the horizon. The aura he exudes is electric yet peaceful, and you feel it brewing in the chasm of your chest, branching through your limbs as if your body is trying to accept and yet reject this intense feeling of divinity.
Your pulse thrums in your neck. You swallow against the grit of your throat. You find your body responding in ways you wish it wouldn’t.
Sure, you’ve felt this underlying sense of unease each time you entered the temple. Each time you wandered to this part of the island. And it’s still there. But now, you feel something different. Highly inappropriate, starting with that pulsing, molten feeling coagulating in your stomach.
He notices the change, your nervousness, how your thighs press together. Of course he does. He’s a god, having known of humans long before they worshiped him.
Where you expect his expression to manifest as smugness at your suffering, he appears confused. A faint furrow forms between his brows like you’re ancient glyphs he’s trying to decipher.
“You feel warm, mortal,” states the deity, leaning close, his hand hovering near your cheek. He stops himself, unsure if he should touch. He may be a god, but you’re sure he’d think twice about harming the only human keeping his name alive. “Have you fallen ill as a result of my proximity?”
You want to smack yourself, hiding your mortification behind your hand. He sounds deceptively innocent, like he has no idea what effect he has on you. Surely, it’s been a while since he’s walked amongst mortals, because anyone with basic social skills could tell that you’re fighting for your life.
The beads of his cloak clack together when he lowers his hand. The knot between his brows loosens, his breath dusting your warmed cheeks, as if he’s slowly assembling the pieces of your puzzle.
“Your pulse quickens when you look at me.” Canting his head to one side, his eyes burn through the marrow of your bones, and you find it most difficult to hold his gaze. “Do you fear me, little mortal?” Your stomach sinks beneath the weathered mosaic of stone of his temple as his voice slinks into dangerous territory. “Or is there something else?”
The crown of your head tingles. Your ears ring with it. If you were a tea kettle, steam would billow from your ears. He’s so wonderfully close. So delightfully hot, and you feel safe. Safe like that night you first sought shelter in his domain. Safe like any other day you’d spent beneath the glittering dust and the overhead canopy.
You swallow as something cold yet hot blooms behind your ribcage. Wetting your lips with a swipe of your tongue, you hold his stare, willing your mouth to work with you tonight.
“I’m…not scared.”
It isn’t a complete lie. You’re not afraid of him. Not like you were initially when he called himself from the shadows. You’re more fearful of what you may say or do next if you’re allowed to stand here longer, basking in his godliness.
You sense it coming like a wave overtaking a crab and drawing it out to sea. You wince, steeling yourself against the inevitable. And when his question comes, it settles between you, heavy and unmistakable like the ivy-wrapped pillars jutting from the ground.
“Then tell me, mortal. What do you feel?”
No tease lives here. No arrogance of a god bearing himself to a human. He knows you’re out of sorts, wanting to draw the truth from your quivering lips. You make a distant sound in the back of your throat, fighting your legs to keep from shaking.
Words escape you, your silence making room for the ambient tune of the world outside. Stayrus takes your quietude as an invitation, closing the last bit of distance left between a mere mortal and a god.
Thankfully, your mouth moves this time. But it’s futile, forming around excuses that sound like mindless dribble, so you just end up looking like a fool. But the god doesn’t bask in your mortification. Doesn’t tease you for being at a loss for words. He, too, would likely lose himself if the beaded robe were on your shoulders.
Your breath stilts itself when his fingers raise again, loosely curled, cautious. You glance between them and their owner. Sift through his expression and body language for any intent to hurt you. When you find nothing but soft curiosity beneath the beaded headband encircling his hair, the tension between your clenched teeth relents.
Nodding, you don’t take your eyes off him after granting him your soundless permission to touch. The world narrows to a single point, the temple blurring into a feverish haze of color and sound. Your heartbeat thrums like a countdown in your ears. His fingers finally graze your skin, cool to the touch like the sand before dawn, and you both stiffen when you flinch.
After he ensures you’re still alright with this, his exploration warms to the soft glide of your skin. His knuckles ease down the slope of your cheek before dipping below your jaw. Instinctively, you angle your head back, allowing him more passage of your throat despite your nerves flaring like coronal ejections from the sun.
When the deity’s thumb finds the thrum of your pulse in your neck, and he presses down, so achingly gentle, he sucks in a quiet breath. Something in him stirs, startled by the warm flutter of a mortal’s heartbeat. To you, he’s unreal. But to him, perhaps you’re the specter.
Tilting his head back, his mouth spills slightly open, his eyes glowing like rubies uncovered from the sand.
“So quick,” he rasps, palm smoothing up the side of your neck, and the rough pad of his thumb passes over your bottom lip, tugging it slightly down. “Your heart runs to meet me as if it knows my touch.”
You shudder when his divine fingers descend lower, soft like a blind man testing the threshold of his other senses. Each graze of his knuckles sends a pulse of electricity through your body. He ends his excursion at the tease of your sternum peaking through your top, and the way you suck in a sharp yet quiet breath, blinking rapidly as if to shake yourself from a trance, makes his lips quirk almost imperceptibly.
“You respond to my fingers as if your body anticipates me.”
Just when you think he’ll be merciful, the god resumes his languid, innocent torture, his palm fully cupping your cheek. He thumbs the space just shy of your waterline, so tender, it aches.
You bite your lip against the threat of a keen. A sound dredged from the bowels of your chest. He tracks the movement, subduing a groan of his own.
You hate how your body betrays you. How your knees soften, something warm and moist pooling between the clench of your thighs. Do all gods have this sort of effect on humans, or is he a special case?
When his following words come, you almost anticipate them. A statement born from centuries of solitude, bound in this quiet yet dangerous yearning.
“You have given me so much, little mortal. Offerings. Warmth. A voice in an empty sanctuary.” His eyes still locked on you, he tracks the languid glide of his knuckles along your face.
Your lids lower from the tenderness of his exploration. Your breath lodges itself in your throat.
“You have given without asking, wanting, or taking. Maintained my temple out of the purity of your soul.” He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, baring your wet, darkened eyes to the flickering candlelight and his scrutiny. “That is not the nature of mortals or gods. So, tell me.”
You feel it in your very being, the threads of your genetic coding, when his voice descends into something darker. Thicker with the heat you’ve heard of in his myths.
“What do you desire in return?”
Your heart trips over itself. Threatens to break free of your ribs. You blink, the air suddenly too dizzying to bear.
Sensing your confusion, the deity wreathes his palm around the back of your neck, his fingers delicately weaving themselves with the fine hairs at your nape. You don’t resist as he draws your face closer, falling into him like a star wandering too close to an event horizon. So close, you feel the warmth of every word leaving his lips.
“I have listened to you when you thought you spoke to the shadows. I know of your quiet thoughts. Your wishes. Your loneliness.” Scarlet, celestial eyes rake down your body, chilling your spine, numbing your fingers. “Your longing. Anything you ask of me, I will give it to you, mortal. Wealth. Protection. Companionship. Comfort. Or perhaps…there is something deeper that you desire.”
You release a soft breath, legs promising to give out. His eyes smolder at your response as if he’s perused your thoughts. Read the manuscript of your body, all too familiar with the signs of human desire.
“Ask, dear mortal. What do you want from your god?”
The word quivers out of you, high, thin, breathless. “Nothing.” You swallow, trying to steel yourself, but Stayrus’ oppressive presence makes it difficult to think. To stand. To breathe.
He watches your throat bob as you swallow. Strokes the space behind your ear with his thumb, reveling in how your pulse rockets each time he touches you. Each time he lightly bunches your hair between his fingers, and a gruff little noise worms its way from your throat.
“Nothing,” the deity parrots, tasting the word in his mouth like aged wine. His gaze flits from your eyes to your parted lips, back up. A maddeningly slow dance that stirs the dragonflies inhabiting your stomach. “You say you want nothing from your god, yet your body speaks to me in a language older than invocation.”
That nearly does you in. Heat branches from the pit of your stomach to your extremities. It clots in the space between your legs, throbbing, coiling, burning. Your carefully-constructed composure frays, burned away by a god already well-versed in the vernacular of yearning.
He feels it, too. The dangerous shift in the air. How the forest has quieted outside, the sea docile as if presenting a stage just for the two of you. He’s a god. Forgotten, but still not immune to the temptations of the flesh like a mortal man.
Tentatively, he raises his unoccupied hand. He observes the flutter of your lashes, quietly asking for permission to touch you more. When you make no move to pull away, his palm brushes your hip. A ghost of touch, a tease, but it still makes you gasp and shudder like you’ve been branded by a hot poker.
Stayrus huffs a soft, pleased sound against your mouth, weaving you deeper into the fibers of his spell. “You came here without expectation. I sense no greed in your soul. You gave freely. You took nothing. You kept me company and tended to my temple while others sought to desecrate it.”
He’s merciful this time, granting you reprieve from the swell of desire, the headiness, his hand clasping around your ribcage if only to feel the violent tremor of your breath.
“How could I not answer you, dear mortal?”
Your legs turn to jelly, the weight of his divinity too much to shoulder. He catches you with his hands at your waist, scorching through the layers of your clothes and flesh down to bone. His forehead finds solace pressed against yours, mouth spilled open with the effort of breathing as if he shares your desire, too.
“If I asked what you truly felt right now, little mortal, would it still be nothing?”
It wouldn’t, and he knows it. Your body betrays you, your mind following suit. You’re dizzy and entranced. Burning everywhere he touches. Wherever he breathes. Wherever he looks.
It terrifies you. You came here months ago, genuinely not seeking anything. But with him presenting himself before you like this—touching you like you’re made of stardust, like you wreathed the sky with the stars by your own hands—you want everything.
But you never imagined this. A god, this god, Stayrus, the inevitable, the bearer of wealth and wrath and humility, wanting you as much as you’ve burned for him. For his presence, feeling it bleed from every crevice and alcove in his temple, even when you thought he’d never manifest. When he’d permanently turned his back on humanity.
He wants you. To sate you. To repay you for your selflessness in any form. Physical, mental, carnal. You see it in his eyes. Sense it in his skin. In the warmth he bleeds. In the pinch and release of his hands at your waist. In how his mouth hovers, so catastrophically close. So tempted to kiss, to taste what he’s been deprived of in his centuries of solitude.
Would he truly give you that if you asked? Is it profane for a mortal to request something like that from a deity?
Swallowing against the dry grit of your throat, you lick your lips. “I…can’t ask for that,” you say, more to yourself.
Gently, he silences you, a single finger held to the tender swell of your lips. “You feel you cannot ask because mortals have been taught to fear yearning for a god.”
His words are a statement. A truth that sinks low in your stomach. You recall the things you researched. The advice given to you by the locals. It’s almost common knowledge that humans do not seek the flesh of immortals.
Drawing you from your mind, Stayrus drags his finger down your lips, crooking it beneath your chin, and tilting your head slightly back so that you can look at him. The pulse between your legs rabbits. It’s embarrassing. It’s obscene, and you’re convinced he can hear it if the corrupted glow of his eyes is any gauge.
“Your desire doesn’t frighten me, dear thing. You should not feel ashamed. I do not find offense in the way your body warms to me.”
His aura sweeps over you like a whirlpool, drawing you inwards. His presence is inevitable. A slow, creeping thing that doesn’t yet take, yet threatens to swallow you whole. His voice, if at all possible, dips lower, melting the air in your lungs. Your resolve. The common sense you try desperately to scrape up.
“You tremble for what you will not name, yet I feel every pulse of it.”
Your words come out croaky, shaky, shy. You hate it. “I shouldn’t…ask a god for something like that.”
A laugh, rolling like the threat of a storm, is his reply. “You misunderstand, little mortal. You are not asking any mere god for repayment for your selflessness. You are asking me. You may ask for anything your heart desires. Anything your body yearns for, and I will not deny you. I will not turn you away.”
You look into his eyes, head tilting, body ready to abandon you. He’s presenting himself on a silver platter. Practically pleading to satiate the unbearable thrum between your legs. But you’ve always been like this, haven’t you? Always felt like you never deserved anything. Like your sole purpose was only to give. Like good things weren’t meant for you.
Stayrus’ fingers lock around your hips. He tugs you close, robbing you of a gasp. Your hips become acquainted with each other, and the power he boasts—the shape of a god—presses against the apex of your thighs. You find yourself clinging to the spider-fine fabric of his cloak. Holding fast to the gold trim for dear life, losing your fight.
“Is your desire truly so unworthy,” says Stayrus, mouth hovering over yours, teasing, grazing, as he has every intent of kissing you, “that even I should be denied it?”
The truth hits you all at once. A point of clarity that caves in like sand filling a forgotten temple. You want him. Badly. Not his divinity, not his beauty that eclipses the moon and the unearthliness of the forest beyond his temple walls. You’ve desired him since you first set foot in his temple. A feeling you couldn’t name. A pressure you couldn’t give a corporeal shape because you felt it all around you. Gentle warmth. Protective silence. A strange, foreboding sense of being watched. Desired. Pined for without understanding why or how.
You thought it was your mind playing tricks on you. Superstition born of conversing with the locals and faint trails of your own faith, long forgotten. You never knew it was him watching over you this whole time. Keeping vigil whilst you swept the cracking, mosaic floors of his temple. When your hands were stained with paint and dust from scrubbing graffiti from the walls. When you placed offerings at his altar and spoke to the moon-flecked air as if someone were listening. As if someone were as lonely as you were in a place so big.
You never suspected that a god was listening the entire time. That Stayrus was there, listening so carefully that your voice became his tether to the mortal realm.
And now, he stands here before you. Around you. Inside you, filling your mind with smog and turning your limbs to vines. Divinity given form, beautiful enough to make your chest ache and your breath stutter.
Your throat tightens. Words come out tight and unsure. You’re overwhelmed by the truth. But you force it out, figuring you’ve gone long enough shoving your own wants and desires into the backseat.
“I…want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. Since I came to this place.” You laugh, strained, embarrassed, wet. “Just didn’t know it was you I was feeling.”
His breath catches at your confession. His fingers flex on your waist. You swell with something unknown. A god holding his breath? Because of you? What other surprises could the night possibly have in store?
“You…felt me?” he queries, tone awed, soft, halfway wounded. “Even when I hadn’t yet taken form, you felt me? And you burned for my presence?”
You laugh again. A shaky exhale more than humor. You must sound insane. Desperate. Pitiful. “Yeah. Crazy, right?”
Where you expect him to ridicule you, to push you away and disappear, he surprises you. Then again, he’s been doing that a lot lately, subverting your expectations. A noise leaves him, dredged from the deepest reaches of his existence. He groans. A pained, bitten-off sound that prickles your toes and the crown of your head.
He closes his eyes, seemingly overwhelmed by you. Consumed by you in turn, sucking in a steadying breath. “Little mortal,” he breathes, his lips finding yours in a kiss that isn’t yet that, but it’s still enough to light your body like the candles lining his sanctuary. “You are dangerous. I fear you are not aware of the words you speak. How you manipulate me.”
He shivers against the fingers you have buried in his cloak. “Tell me again that you desire me. The god who awaited you each night. Who looked forward to your prayers whispered in the dark. Tell me that you mean this. That you want this. Want me.”
You do. So sweetly. So shy. So dizzy, slurred with warmth, eyes drooping, mouth trembling with the need to kiss him. “I..want you, Stayrus.”
The god stiffens as if you’ve burned him. His restraint is a delicate thing. A thread only a swipe away from breaking. “Then ask it,” he whispers, his breath cycling through your lungs as if it’s your own. “Say that you want my lips on yours, and I will show you exactly what a mortal who appeases their god receives.”
“Please,” you whisper like an incantation, your voice paper-thin.
Your cheek finds solace against his chest, his godly heart beating wildly beneath. You shyly nuzzle against him, your mouth parting, mind reeling. It’s embarrassing how quickly you succumb to him. How willingly you offer yourself to a god despite how wrong it is. But you don’t care about saving face right now. Not when you can barely stand.
“Hmm, my sweet mortal.” Stayrus draws you away from his chest, bringing your lidded gaze back to his. He smiles so sweetly, it rivals the blackberry pastries you’d leave for him to eat. “How could I deny you when you plead to me like this?”
Finally, finally, he grants you the mercy of his mouth. Presses his lips to yours like you’re made of moth wings. It’s a slow, deep, consuming kiss that siphons what little air remains in your lungs. You surge onto the tips of your toes to deepen the kiss, pulling at his cloak for leverage. Delightful tingles flow from your lips to your toes, swelling back up like a tidal wave to coagulate in your center.
He fastens you to him, his arm wreathed around your waist, his other hand molded to your cheek to keep you steady. His lips part yours, sucking in your quiet gasp, tasting you with a warm, slick tongue, pushing past the barrier of your teeth.
To your dismay, he breaks the kiss with a sticky click, and it takes all of you not to whine from the loss of his mouth against yours. Chuckling fondly, the deity taps your nose, taking in your dazed eyes, your kiss-bitten lips, the heat taking possession of your face.
“You beg for me so sweetly, sweet thing. Tell me. Do you crave more of your god’s touch?”
You nod drunkenly, not even thinking, your fingers taut in his cloak as you strain on the tips of your toes, desperate to kiss him again. He is massive. He is divine. He is a dream.
His body hums with power and warmth that threatens to turn your body into an amorphous blob. You don’t care about restraint. About dignity. About pride. If he doesn’t touch you again—if he doesn’t take you—you might die tonight.
Biting his lip, a gruff sound ascends from the wealth god’s throat. You unknowingly wield great power over an immortal. Your trembling obedience, your softness, your devotion, are enough to nearly bring him to his knees. He holds you by the waist like he intends to push you away, his body rigid with barely-concealed restraint.
“Please touch me,” you plead, sensing his hesitance, your arms locking around his shoulders. Your body burns. An otherworldly feeling you’ve never experienced. A pleasant one you never want to forget. “Take me,” you beg on a whisper, so wonderfully out of your mind.
Your voice is his undoing. His Achilles heel. He doesn’t speak as his eyes drill down into your soul. Instead, he moves, kissing you again. A god starved of pleasure for centuries, having the first taste of warmth like a man emerging from a desert’s drought.
This time, his lips are more possessive. His tongue seeks out the wet glide of yours with a growl, his hands raking across your body to find purchase at the globes of your ass. You’re dizzy, but he doesn’t stop. Not until you're breathless and leaning into him to stay afloat. Not until you’ve all but ripped his cloak from his shoulders, baring a tease of warm ivory skin to your greedy fingers.
His palms slide down, fingers tight around your inner thighs, and he’s lifting you without a second thought. Before you realize what he’s doing. Your legs intuitively wrap around his waist, and he carries you like a sacrifice to be bestowed onto an altar, kissing you like you’re his only source of oxygen.
The temple warps around you, the sounds of the forest, of the sea, or the world, dampened by your desperate panting. His groans, his breath syncing with yours, the beads of his robes clacking together and scraping the floor as he carries you deeper into the temple’s sanctum.
Stayrus’ mouth finds your throat, open-mouthed kisses that make your head loll back in open invitation, eyes closed, fingers buried in soft waves of moonlit white. He brings you to the altar as if he’s completing a rite. Tender like you’re the goddess he means to worship, and he’s but a mere mortal at your mercy.
You’re surprised to feel softness in place of cold stone at your back when he lays you down. In your periphery, you catch petals of various colors surrounding you. Flowers he used his powers to bloom, spongy, soft, welcoming.
He hovers over you like a starving beast savoring a fresh kill, eyes aglow in the moonlight streaming through the canopy above and the ivy-wreathed windows. Hair caught in an errant sea breeze, dusting his shoulders, falling into his face. He is the vision of dreams. Wild and divine and tender all at once. His hands smooth up the sprawl of your body, bunching up your clothes in their soft yet desperate exploration, and you arch into his touch, never getting enough of it.
“You will be worshipped tonight, mortal,” he promises against your lips, bent over you, hips notched between your spread, quivering thighs. “Not only for what you have given me, but for who you have become.”
He kisses you anew, his weight half-atop you, palms moving beneath your clothes as if he’s pushing away the frail barrier between you and divinity. Your legs lock around his hips. You sigh, head thrown back into the flowers whilst he brands your neck with the scrape of his teeth, the apex of his thighs pressing to yours like a lost jigsaw piece.
He disrobes you slowly after marking your shoulder. After he’s tested the weight and fullness of your breasts with his hands. After he’s sucked and licked your nipples to pebbled peaks, running the roughened pads of his thumbs over them in apology. He’s a god, once forgotten, finally found. You can’t blame him for being a little overzealous. You don’t fault him for finding solace in the warmth of your body. Your suppleness. Your scent.
You hold your breath when his hands leave your breasts, instead trailing down to your hips. He sinks with them, resembling a mortal man falling to his knees in worship. He doesn’t break your gaze, his eyes smoldering like wind blown over greying coals. Your stomach pinches at the prospect of a celestial being kneeling for you. And when his breath dusts the heat of your wet sex between your thighs, you nearly leave your skin.
Drawing your thighs onto his shoulders, your toes curling into the divots of his back, his eyes find yours through the lust-laden haze once more. He doesn’t ask with words. Instead, his gaze carries the question. A request for permission. You don’t deny him, nodding your head once before he nudges your lower lips open with a groan and a devilish mouth.
You tremble in his hands. A shaking fawn lay bare to the world. His tongue strokes you open, his nose finding the distended pearl of your clit. He tastes you. Acquaints himself with the language of your body, the whispered pitch of your voice. You writhe, the hot, wet suction of his mouth too much. Something you don’t think you’re worthy of.
He hums into the milky mess of your cunt, the vibrations curdling in your stomach, and he anchors your hips to the altar, one hand splayed across your stomach to keep you down, the other coiled around your thigh to keep you nice and open. Vines spring from the bed of flowers at your back, looping around your wrists, keeping them pinned above your head as he subjects you to the torture of his mouth.
Pleasure burrows deep in your stomach. You twist your head side to side, tugging against your restraints, trying to stave off that sparkling rush of sensation. It’s too good. He’s too good to you, licking, fluttering, sucking, chasing the undulation of your hips with his tongue, refusing to let you run from a blessing long overdue.
“Stayrus,” you sob, feeling your body spill towards that slurry edge of no return. “Stayrus, please. I can’t—I can’t—”
“You can,” he rasps in between his wet worship. “You can, little mortal. My divine thing. My sweet little love. Give in to me. Allow yourself this pleasure just this once.”
He groans something anguished when your thighs lock around his head. Your nails bite unforgivingly into your palms, the vines manacling your wrists, leaving pretty grooves in your skin. He doubles down on the flick of his tongue, putting his previous efforts to shame. You’re close. He can feel it. He craves it. He devours you, trying to sate the divine hunger that’s roiled in his body for centuries.
You fall apart as if he commanded it, your mouth hinged open in a shuddering gasp. A scream. A shattered cry of his name. Your body convulses, the air punched from your lungs, your pleasure washing over you like waves licking jagged cliffs.
He finally slows when your hips return to the makeshift bed, your mind blank, too full of pleasure too vast for a mortal body to contain. You shiver as he trails kisses from the inner sprawl of your thighs up to your hips, blistering your belly, up to your sternum.
His lips are wet with the taste of you, hair disheveled, cheeks flushed an ethereal shade of red to match his eyes, which burn brighter than any flame you’ve ever lit in his temple.
“Exquisite,” praises the deity, pressing his lips to yours with a languid kiss. You moan at the earthy taste of your body enmeshed with the flavor of his mouth. How he kisses so achingly tender, like he’s trying to draw the ichor of your body into his.
“I nearly forgot how fragile you mortals were. And how easily you break.”
Had you not been spent, panting for your life, and your hands bound, you would smack him. You would risk him smiting you if only to wipe that smug look off his face.
As if remembering himself, the ivy slowly recedes from your wrists, freeing you up to wreath your arms around the deity’s neck. He holds you by the hips, not wanting to crush you while you descend from the heavens, but his desire presses intimidatingly against the cut of your thigh.
“Will you indulge me a little further, my little mortal?”
Despite the bonelessness of your limbs, a new wave of want pulses in your loins. You want more, even as your body shakes and your chest heaves as if you’ve run miles through a dream. You want him to ruin you. You want him to claim every region of your soul, to make you wholly his. You’ve never felt pleasure so immense. You’ve never craved someone so desperately.
“Please,” you beseech so sweetly, your voice brittle around the edges.
With a smirk and slight nod, Stayrus rises to full height between your legs. Time is but a construct in this space of heat and wanton desire, your breath corking itself in your throat.
With one concise motion, the wispy cloak spills from his shoulders into a serpentine heap at his feet. The sound it makes when it greets ancient stone embeds itself into your memory. But not like the celestial visage before you, a sight you feel mortal eyes weren’t meant to witness, and you’ll never forget the sight, even in death.
A silken, deep-red cloth stitched with gold patterns and trimmed with the same weave at the hems sits low on his hips. A golden buckle, reminiscent of a crow’s skull, rests at the cloth’s center, seemingly keeping it tied to his waist. Beaded bracelets and a necklace, similar to that sewn into his cloak, dangle off his wrists and neck.
He is bloody divine. Sculpted. Towering. Every line and muscle of his body forged like a God of War’s statue brought to life. His chest rises slowly, breaths even while yours eludes you.
He is gorgeous in a way that makes your soul ache, and yet you can’t look elsewhere. Can’t think of your life before beholding his body, your eyes growing warm with a wet film of tears. His expression melds into one of ruefulness, and he bends to kiss your forehead, hands gathering up your face.
“Shh, my little mortal. Why do you weep?”
You can’t speak; his presence is overwhelming. His beauty, too much. The tenderness of his words, his hands, this moment, promising to draw you out to sea.
He litters your face with kisses, each one growing more delicate than the last, as if he’s trying to coax you down from the pedestal he placed you on. “You want me to ruin you,” he rasps against your quivering lips, swiping molten tears from your cheeks. “I will give you everything you ask of me. But I will not be cruel. I will take you apart, but in a way much older than the stars.”
You shudder at the thought of it, his hair gliding over your skin, his dangling earrings a cool contrast to your overheated body.
“Let me in,” he breathes, nudging your face with his nose, his hips slotted between yours. “Let me show you what true ascension feels like.”
He reaches between your bodies, his knuckles grazing the sensitive throb of your sex on its way down. The buckle holding the cloth in place clinks, and the sound of fabric meeting stone follows.
He watches you as you sit up on your elbows, and your eyes nearly bulge from their sockets. You laugh, a quick, unsure, incredulous sound that you can’t help.
He is massive in the ways that count. Long, thick, beautiful, framed by a dusting of white hair. Intimidatingly large, as if the laws of mortal limitations don’t apply to him. Your thighs shake when he takes hold of himself, dropping the heated girth of his body onto your pubic mound with a dull but noticeable plop.
Swallowing, you wince, your eyes flit to his. “Will that even—” Your voice cracks around the petered words, and it’s embarrassing. You’ve never…experienced someone so well-endowed, especially not a god.
His lips quirk when you make a silly gesture with your hands to signal the sheer size of him. His fingers curve around the inner cuts of your knees, dragging you down the bed of flowers with a sticky intake of breath until your pelvis slots to his, and the head of his cock nearly brushes between the undersides of your breasts.
“It will because your body calls to me. Because I’ve craved it in turn since the first time your hand touched my temple.”
Leaning down, he kisses you again, slower than before, as if savoring the taste of your shock. Despite the nerves flaring around your spine, you return his affection, arms looping around his shoulders, your thighs spreading wider to accommodate the wide span of his hips.
“I will take you slowly,” he assures, so sweetly, so indulgent, it makes your eyes sting with a new wave of emotion. “You will feel every inch of me inside you, claiming you, ruining you for any man who would dare to touch you after I’ve had my fill. But you will take me, my little mortal.”
The heat he exudes nearly crushes you. Your nails dig waning moons into his back in anticipation, and you hiss through clenched teeth when his shaft sifts through the sticky, overstimulated mess of your cunt.
“This,” groans the deity, the head of his cock delightfully nudging your clit, “was always meant to happen. You were crafted by the gods to take me. And I was manifested to adore you until you fall apart.”
When Stayrus draws his hips back a little too far, the head of him prods your slobbering entrance. You share a pleasured exhale at the contact, your bodies shivering, his arms flexing as he holds himself above you against the delicate flowers of the altar, trying not to ruin you all at once.
Finally, he puts you out of your misery. His tip presses against your entrance, impossibly thick, and your body seizes up, not ready to take him. Your nails rake down his forearms, spine arching, head thrown back with your eyes clenched shut. Your body protests, but your soul aches to be filled with him. To drink from him, to only know the shape of him and his words and his divinity.
He senses it, angling himself down with his weight gathered on one elbow above your head, his unoccupied palm finding yours, threading your fingers together in an unspoken promise. “Look at me,” he commands, his tone brittle like the last of his restraint is slipping through his fingers like sand through a sieve.
You caution your eyes open, and he is so fucking beautiful, it pains you.
“Breathe, my sweet mortal. Let me in slowly. Feel me. Do not tense up.”
It’s easier said than done—he’s not the one taking divine, engorged dick. Still, with a breath out, you will yourself to relax, your fingers tightening against his. Your gazes interlock in a quiet exchange, and when he’s sure you’re ready for him to press further, he does just so.
The stretch is cruel. Maddening. Aching. You feel like you’re being speared. Rearranged to make room for something mortal bodies weren’t meant to take. Tears spill down your face in hot rivulets, plopping unattractively on the pretty blooms beneath you.
Your god shushes you with chaste kisses to chase the hot leak of your tears. Lips pressed to your temples to soothe you. His mouth descending on yours to swallow those pathetic little sobs you can’t help but let out.
He pulls back his hips, then presses further with each grind forward, and you feel every inch, every vein, every twitch as he wars with himself not to break you in twain with one catastrophic thrust. He’s too big. Too deep. Too hot, and yet you don’t want him to stop. You weren’t exaggerating before when you said you would die without him nestled deep inside you.
“Shh, my sweet thing. You can take me.” His grip on your fingers tightens as if he’s trying to convince himself. “You are already performing so wonderfully. So brave, beautiful, and divine. This bewitching body was made solely to take me, wasn’t it?” His breath shudders against your tear-slicked skin, and he is on the verge of losing himself to the hot suction of your body.
You sniffle as your walls yield to him. Greedily suck him in, fluttering and clenching, rejecting and yet welcoming him all at once. Your thighs quiver. You claw up the expanse of his shoulders in search of anything to hold onto while you bear the brunt of his might.
He gives you everything that you can take. Patient, sluggish, godly, unreal. Pressed so deep that you feel him in your lower stomach, overwhelmed and somehow begging him to fill you further.
You whimper when he’s fully seated inside you. Instinctively try to curl into yourself. Lick your wounds clean, skewered, spread open, and bare. He doesn’t let you, his weight against your breasts to moor you down.
“Cry if you must,” soothes the deity. “Scratch me. Bite me. Mark me. But your body knows me. It wants me. It calls to me in the most divine ways.”
He’s thankfully merciful, giving you time to adjust to the sheer depth of him as the tears dry like wells amid a desert from your eyes. After the pain subsides slightly, making way for ricochets of pleasure humming through your body, you release a breath you were unaware of hoarding.
Stayrus drops a kiss on your lips. The corner of your mouth. Your cheek. Back to your mouth. So soft, you clench around him, and he groans, twitching inside you. “Are you ready to take me, little love? Are you sure this is what your precious heart desires?”
It’s a little too late to turn back now, given how deeply he’s nestled into your soul, how much he’s molded you around the shape of him in just one night. Figurative and literal.
You manage a broken, “Y-yes,” eyes wet, skin afire.
With your consent, something in him shifts. His eyes glow with it, a feverish flame like you’ve never seen before. He doesn’t take all at once, not like he burns to. Instead, he moves slowly like the lazy drag of a tide, pulling out until only the tip sits between your walls with an obscene hiss, then pistoning back in until you feel him blooming in your heart. The fullness of him has your back bowing off the altar, your toes curling helplessly at the divots of his back just above the swell of his ass.
Your mouth spills open in quiet, fractured whimpers. Your body tries valiantly to adjust, but it can’t. Not when it’s faced with something so unfathomably massive. Still, you take him, pushed further up the flower-dressed platform with each grind of his hips.
He watches you through hooded eyes, through the soft veil of his hair spilling around you like snow, the shadows cast by the dwindling flame dancing over his body as he splits you in two.
“You feel like heaven, taking me like this,” pants the god, thoroughly wrecked by you. “So warm. So tight. So good. So deep. You’re trembling, little mortal.” He strokes deeper, phosphenes darting across your field of vision in dazzling white. “Your body is trembling just for me.”
He pushes further still, hitting that spot meshed inside you so perfectly, you cry out. Your thighs lock around his waist, and now, he has both your hands pinned overhead, fingers braided together, your bodies moving as one.
“My precious little vessel. Feel how deep I am. How much of me you take, even when you thought you couldn’t.”
You open up for him again and again like flower petals unfolding towards the sun. He’s nestled so far into you that you feel him at the center of your very being. His abs knock against your swollen clit just right, and you know that won’t last much longer with him moving against you like this.
That sparkling rush finds you, starting its journey in your belly, unraveling like a spool of thread leaping off a table, throughout the rest of your body.
When you hiccup around him, panting, trying to make sense of your breath, the god leans down, his smile boyish, skin dewy with sweat when his forehead drops to yours.
“That’s it, mortal. Come for me. Show your god how much he means to you.”
You come with his name on your lips. Shaking, convulsing, gasping. You contract around him in waves that feel endless until you’ve soaked his waist with your essence, the fluid splattering obscenely on the ground, scorching down your thighs. You’re gorgeous and helpless and wonderfully his. He reminds you of that as the flowers grow brighter, fuller, burying his face in the hollow of your neck as you ride that cresting wave of numbing pleasure.
“Beautiful. Radiant. Perfect. Everything I’ve ever craved. Everything I knew you would be. You were glorious,” he lauds, his thrusts shallow inside you until he spills white hot deep inside, driven to the brink by your perfect body wrapped around his.
He comes almost ceaselessly. Hot, furtive spurts that dribble down your legs, dropping in thick plops on the ground.
He stays buried deep, shaking from the force of his climax. From your body clenching around him, from your nails soothingly raking down the space between his shoulder blades. His breaths are ragged as the pair of you descend, and he draws back slightly, weight on shaky arms, to litter your face with appreciative kisses.
You don’t know why it happens. Likely a consequence of the sheer amount of pleasure you’ve just endured. But consciousness slips away like a feather drifting from the treetops, left in the wake of a bird taking flight.
Just before you sink into the abyss, you hear something unfurl. Feel cool wind glazing over your dampened skin, before a soft pressure furls around your body, reminiscent of those wings that had shielded you from the storm those months back.
“I have you, dear mortal,” Stayrus lovingly rumbles into your ear, brushing the shell of it with his lips. “No harm will come to you so long as I have you wrapped in my wings.”
—
When you next awaken, you’re in your home in your bedroom on the other side of the island as morning light seeps in through your curtains.
You’re pleasantly sore, your skin welting from the thorns pressed into your back from the flowers, your thighs still swollen and slick. You ache in the best ways, the pressure of something thick and molten still carved inside you.
When you sit up, something wispy slips down your naked body. It’s not the familiar texture of your sheets nor the glide of your clothes.
A sheer, weightless cloak puddles around your waist, the telltale beads and gold adorning it catching in the soft light.
A whisper tickles your ear, a chuckle that pinches your stomach and threatens to reignite the flame once burning between your thighs like a never-ending ember.
“Rest, my beloved. You are never far from me. The temple is as much your sanctuary as it is mine.”
dragon!sylus fantasy au. he smells someone else's scent on you and uses the only tactic he knows he get his mate to stay, to show his mate he is better than everyone else. fluff
cw: he brings u a dead animal but i dont go in detail
the ancient oaks of the dragonwood formed a protective canopy over the small, sun-drenched clearing where your cottage stood. it was a precarious place to live, so close to the forbidden forest, but you had never known fear. for as long as you could remember, a silent, shimmering shadow had watched over you. his name was sylus.
he was a dragon of legend, a massive creature of obsidian scales that drank the sunlight and crimson eyes that held the heat of a primordial forge.
to the world, he was a territorial, fearsome beast.
to you, he was the quiet guardian who had left a perfectly polished, sun-warmed river stone on your windowsill when you were a child. he was the one who, just last week, had carefully uprooted a cluster of rare, luminous moon-petal flowers from a sacred grove deep in the woods and gave them to you.
today, you were tending to those very flowers. the warm afternoon sun beat down on your back as you carefully poured water from a wooden bucket at the base of each glowing blue blossom.
sylus was a dark, quiet presence nearby. it was nothing new.
his immense body curled around the edge of your little garden like a living wall. you could feel the heat radiating from him, a familiar comfort. his head rested on his front claws, his forge-hot eyes half-lidded in contentment, following your every move. a deep, thrumming purr vibrated through the very ground, a sound reserved solely for you, a dragon's lullaby.
the peaceful moment shattered.
the purring stopped abruptly. a low, guttural rumble started deep in his chest, a sound so different it made you freeze. you looked up. his head was lifted, his neck stretched taut. his nostrils flared wide, pulling in the air around you with sharp, audible sniffs. the warmth in his eyes was gone, replaced by a sharp, possessive intensity.
"you smell different," he growled. the sound was not friendly. it was the grating of stone, a warning. "the forest air on you is tainted. you smell of smoke. of crowded streets. of… another human. a man."
you slowly put your watering can down, the wooden handle suddenly feeling unsteady in your grip, but not afraid.
sylus, for as long as you've known of his presence around, has never harmed you. there was no reason for you to be afraid
"sylus, it's nothing. i had to go to the town market today. you know i go sometimes. the streets were just very crowded, that's all."
"who." the word was not a question. it was a command, and the ground beneath your feet seemed to tremble in response. a wisp of dark smoke, smelling of ozone and heated rock, curled from one of his nostrils.
your mind raced, trying to place the source of his agitation. "it was no one important! just… the baker's son, i think. his name is leo. i was turning a corner and he was carrying a big sack of flour. we just bumped into each other, that's all. it was an accident. he was kind about it and helped me steady myself."
the moment the name—leo—left your lips, sylus went completely rigid.
the low rumble in his chest erupted into a full, snarling growl that echoed through the clearing, sending birds scattering from the trees. "leo," he repeated, the name a foul, venomous thing on his tongue. smoke now poured freely from his nostrils, clouding the air between you with the scent of his agitation. "a… baker." he said the word with utter contempt, as if describing something weak and worthless. his eyes burned with a fire you had never seen directed at you before. it was jealousy, raw and primal.
before you could say another word to soothe him, he moved. with a powerful surge of coiled muscle, he launched himself into the sky. the beat of his vast, leathery wings was a thunderclap that whipped your hair and clothes violently. you stood there, stunned, watching his dark form disappear above the dense green canopy.
he was back within minutes, a terrifyingly swift hunter.
with a heavy thud that shook the cottage, he landed in the clearing. clutched in his formidable claws was the carcass of a massive, silver-furred stag. it was a magnificent beast, one that would have taken a party of the kingdom's best hunters days to track and great courage to bring down. he dropped it at your feet with a definitive, heavy thump, his chest puffed out, his obsidian scales gleaming with pride.
"see?" he declared, his voice a deep, proud rumble. he nudged the massive kill towards you with his snout, his eyes fixed on yours. "the finest meat in the forest. fresh. strong. full of life. i caught it for you. does your… baker… bring you such sustenance? can he provide the heart of the wild for you? can his soft, flour-dusted hands hunt and provide? or does he only offer you… weak grains and baked air?"
you stared at the stag, then back at his fiercely proud and deeply worried face.
a slow, aching understanding dawned.
this wasn't just about a strange scent. this was about territory. about possession. in his draconic mind, he saw a rival, a challenger for your attention, and he was trying to prove his superiority in the only way he knew how.
"sylus," you began, your voice gentle but firm. you crossed your arms over your chest. "that is a very impressive catch. and it is sweet of you to think of me. but i cannot eat an entire stag by myself. and i cannot make a new dress from rabbit fur or stag hide."
he blinked his large, intelligent eyes, the fire in them dimming to a confused smolder.
"i have to go to town sometimes," you continued, stepping a little closer, though the heat from his agitated body was intense. "it is not a choice. i need to buy cloth and needles and thread. i need soap and salt and things you cannot easily find in the forest. i am a human, and i live in a human world part of the time. when i am there, i might bump into people. it does not mean anything. leo is just a man who sells bread. that is all he is. i think that was the first time ive ever seen him"
he was quiet for a long moment, processing your words. the proud, rigid set of his shoulders slumped slightly.
the aggressive puff of his chest deflated. he looked from your face to the massive stag, then back to you, and let out a low, chuffing sound. he nudged the stag again, almost petulantly.
"but… my meat is better," he mumbled, his deep voice now a soft, rumbling plea. "it is stronger. better for you."
so clearly... he was still having lingering jealousy coursing through his veins.
later, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, you were admiring the soft, ethereal glow of the moon-petal flowers.
sylus watched you for a long time, his massive head tilted. then, he turned and, with astonishing delicacy, used the very tip of his wing to sweep a pile of his treasure towards you.
it was not just gold and gems, though there were glittering coins and deep green emeralds. there were rare, beautiful objects he had clearly collected over centuries: a perfectly preserved fossil of a prehistoric fern, a geode split open to reveal a stunning galaxy of violet amethyst crystals, a necklace woven from what looked like strands of starlight and one of his own, smaller, discarded scales.
all items that a jewel collector or archaeologist would faint at the sight of
he nudged the geode towards you with his nose. "this one," he rumbled, his voice low and intent. "it holds the memory of the earth's first breath. it is ancient and powerful."
his gaze was unwavering, filled with a desperate earnestness. "these are not just things. they are pieces of my hoard. my… heart. can your baker offer you the secrets of the world? can he give you a piece of his soul? can he show you the history locked in stone?"
ah... still having a one-sided beef with the baker.
he lowered his great head until his warm, scaled forehead was gently pressing against your chest. the growl was gone, replaced by a deep, thrumming vibration that felt like a plea resonating deep within your own bones. the scent of smoke was gone, replaced by the clean, sharp scent of the forest at night.
"stay here, little one," he whispered, the sound so quiet it was almost carried away by the breeze. "with me. my forest is your forest. my treasure is your treasure. my protection is yours. i can keep you safe. i can give you wonders. choose my fire. please. do not… do not seek warmth from his feeble, mortal hearth."
and in that moment, you saw it all. the jealousy, the grand displays of hunting and wealth, the desperate hints. it wasn't the aggression of a monster.
it was the fear of a lonely, ancient creature who had finally found something precious, something he considered his, and was terrified to the core of losing it to another. he was trying to prove he was the better provider, the better protector, in the only language a dragon knew.
you reached up and wrapped your arms as far as you could around the thick base of his neck, burying your face in the warm, smooth scales. "silly dragon," you murmured, your voice muffled against him. "your meat is the best. your treasures are the most beautiful. and your fire is the warmest thing i have ever known. i come back to you, don't i? i always come back."
he let out a long, shuddering sigh, a hot breath that stirred your hair. he leaned into your touch, his massive body relaxing, the tension finally bleeding away. he might not fully understand your human world, but he understood your touch, your scent, and your promise to return.
"...i am also certain i am capable of creating better creations than that measly mortal human baker."
"have you ever even tried making bread, oh-mighty-dragon?"
"... no but if it shall make you happy, i shall learn. nothing a human can do i cannot."
the "i have better meat" part makes me giggle but idk how else to word it.... oops!
summary: you and Sylus have been arranged to be married since adolescence, until you're whisked off to the palace to join the imperial harem and Sylus would do anything to get you back
wc: 15.9k
warnings: not historically accurate, violence, arranged marriage, does a harem count?, male masturbation, nsfw, piv, oral (f receiving), voyeurism (not by Sylus or reader), pregnancy (extremely minimal)
an: based off that one story from apothecary diaries. also have plans for both caleb and zayne in this same universe <3
You'd known even in your early youth that your heart would only ever belong to one man.
Your families had strong ties, so he had always been within the periphery of your life. He was a few years your senior, so more often than not he was spending time with other boys his age rather than the little girl who was too shy to even speak to him. Nevertheless, your respective parents both thought it would be advantageous to solidify the bond between your two affluential families in the form of marriage.
You were promised to Sylus Qin when you were barely a teenager. The years passed, and gone was the child who used to follow him around asking him to play with her. In her place was a young woman that turned heads wherever she went. A known beauty in your small town, well-educated and from a wealthy family. Such was the same for Sylus. Wherever he went, the giggles of the town’s girls were sure to follow, especially since he’d taken up martial arts with his friend Caleb Xia, who was no less popular, and he had grown from a scrawny teenager to a full-fledged man. But despite the attention you both received, neither of you ever entertained the thought of another.
Regardless of what you thought, Sylus had never been blind to your presence in his life. He still remembered when you were 10 years old and had climbed a tree too high and subsequently became too frightened to climb down. He’d had to climb into the tree with you to help you down, and he had done it without a second’s hesitation. He remembered when you proudly showed him your first piece of needlework at 12, the flowers slightly misshapen and lopsided, but he’d praised it nonetheless. He remembered when you were standing next to him in front of both of your parents at 14, nervously twiddling your fingers as the two of you were told you’d been promised to each other as eventual spouses. He remembered when you were 17 and Caleb had made a passing comment to him about how pretty you were becoming and Sylus had shot him a look so quickly he nearly snapped his own neck. He remembered the first time he kissed you at 19, how soft your lips had been and how your hands felt cupping his jaw and how worth it it was to risk the scandal. But what he remembered most vividly was the way your face crumpled when you’d told him that you’d been chosen as a candidate for concubinage to the emperor. He’d never forget the raw grief and anger he felt the day you left for the interior palace.
Sylus would stand against God if it meant taking his rightful place at your side, so who was an emperor to stand in his way? But he waited. Plotted. Planned. He’d be yours and you would be his, even if he had to burn the whole palace to the ground.
----------
You weren’t sure how it had happened, but during one of your outings you had been noticed by a eunuch sent to your town with the express purpose of scouting potential companions for the emperor. It all happened in the blink of an eye. The eunuch visiting your family home. Discussing what this meant with your parents. Informing Sylus, whose face would be seared into your memory forever. You may as well have ripped his heart from his chest. But the wants of the emperor superseded all else. What you had thought to be fated, written in stone, was ripped from you before you could truly fight for it. Your bags were packed by the maids, your tears wiped clean by your mother, and your heart still held securely in Sylus’ hands, even as you were loaded into the carriage tasked with taking you far away from all that you had known and loved.
You didn’t speak unless spoken to, and even then you did so in as few words as possible. The trip was long and tiresome, but you did eventually arrive at the gates of the Forbidden City, the grandeur of the palace stealing the breath from your lungs. You tried to remain positive. You really did. Thousands of girls were chosen for this process and the vast majority of them were sent back to their parents. So, in all likelihood, you would be back home within the week. Surely.
Upon arrival, you were sorted into a group of other girls your age. Everything about you was assessed: your height, weight, skin, face, hair—even the way you spoke. By the end of it all, the number of girls had drastically decreased, and yet still you remained. One month, you were told. You would remain for one month as an entry-level concubine under the observance of other court women. It was a terribly long month, as you were not allowed contact with anyone outside of the palace. Your entire world had shrunk to just the inner court.
As luck would have it, it was your inquiry about the possibility of sending letters that exposed you as literate, a valued quality. You had always considered your family’s noble background a privilege, but it was unfortunately that very privilege that gave you all the traits desired in a concubine.
50. There were only 50 of you left. Again and again you were needled about your knowledge of literature and the arts. You had always been studious, and it showed when you were ranked highly amongst the remaining girls. You had considered lying and making yourself seem far more uneducated than you actually were, but dishonesty towards the emperor was not taken lightly. You’d be flirting with severe capital punishment, possibly even execution. It wasn’t worth the risk of never going home again. Of breaking the hearts of your family—of Sylus—more than they already were.
So, you persevered. But marked were your words—the emperor would never touch you. You could abide being chosen, as much as you loathed the thought, but you would die before allowing him in your bed. Should that ever happen, you would never be permitted to leave, a fate worse than death.
In the end, no matter how much you wished to kick and scream and cry, you were chosen to remain in the inner court. Whether your family was notified or not was not disclosed to you. You hoped they were, and you hoped Sylus would not completely give up on you. In the meantime, you decided, you would keep your head low and not draw attention to yourself. An unnoticed concubine is an untouched concubine.
------------
After a month of your absence, Sylus joined the imperial army. If he remained idle waiting for your return, which grew more and more unlikely by the day, he was apt to completely fall apart. Caleb chose to join as well, and he had been the one to inform Sylus that it wasn’t unheard of for generals and high ranking military officials to be rewarded for valor with a concubine of their choosing. If he could swallow his pride and serve the man who had taken you from him in the first place, he could potentially win you back.
The training was grueling. The two men had already built quite the physiques with the training they had already done, but the army honed and polished their skills to their fullest potential. If they were intimidating before, they were downright formidable now. But that was only training. Sylus had yet to see battle. He had yet to earn any merit that could allow him to move up the considerable ranks it would take to garner any favor or notice from the emperor.
But he would do it. Would follow orders to a T, would shoulder every task, would cut down anyone who opposed him until the emperor himself was felled by his sword if that was what it took. Though for now, he would settle with helping quash the small insurgence that was causing trouble in the south.
------------
While Sylus was risking life and limb to make a name for himself in the army, you were navigating the complexities of the inner court’s social hierarchy. Though discouraged, there was much jealousy among the concubines, something you had come to know after witnessing an unfortunate interaction between two others.
Jingshu, the name one of your ladies whispered to you, was a high-ranked concubine, a favorite of the emperor. You caught ear of her berating Xinyue, whom you were surprised to recognize as one of the girls who had been evaluated in your group.
“Why would he go to you and not me?!” Jingshu’s face was red from anger, the stark white makeup not enough to hide the deep flush on her cheeks.
You witnessed how Xinyue did a remarkable job of not letting the injustice of such a public confrontation allow her to lose her composure. In a sure and steady voice, she responded, “Perhaps the emperor simply has no use for a concubine who is already pregnant.”
A sly grin slid over her face as her eyes drifted downwards to the slight bulge of Jingshu’s abdomen. That grin was enough to tell you that she knew exactly what she was doing, antagonizing Jingshu and very skillfully getting under her skin. You suppressed the small smile that would have turned Lady Jingshu’s wrath on you should she have seen it. It was unlikely through the audience that had gathered around the spectacle, but it was not a risk you thought worth taking. Xinyue had nerve, you’d give her that.
As entertaining as you found it, Jinghsu found it equally infuriating. “You—!” she reeled her hand back, prepared to strike Xinyue. The crowd stirred and a eunuch pushed his way through. He’d likely be punished for this later, but he wrapped a hand around Jinshu’s wrist, effectively preventing her from harming the other concubine. Jinshu looked at him incredulously, likely having never been opposed before due to her social standing within the inner court.
Jingshu yanked her arm from his grip, ready to rage at the poor eunuch who clearly only wanted to deescalate the volatile situation. Before she could get a word out, he sputtered, “Lady Jingshu, you should not be exerting yourself so much!” He gave a meaningful glance to her abdomen. Her words were arrested in her throat, a grimace on her face as she took in the implication. She lowered her arm and the eunuch released her, a clear expression of relief painted on his face.
With one last sneer towards Xinyue, JIngshu stormed off, her ladies in tow. The eunuch turned towards Xinyue, seemingly to ask if she was okay. Now that the yelling had stopped, you couldn’t hear as well as before from your spot at the edge of the courtyard, so you assumed that was what he was saying anyway, especially since Xinyue gave him a small smile and nod of affirmation. With your entertainment clearly having come to an end, you continued on your way.
That had been nearly two weeks ago, with no sign of Jingshu since, the concubine presumably staying cooped up in her room to be doted on by her ladies during her pregnancy. That, or she was rightfully embarrassed by the show she put on and was waiting for some other drama for people to gossip about. Xinyue, on the other hand, you saw quite often. The first time you had spoken was when you saw her painting in one of the open-air pavilions in the imperial garden. Your curiosity got the best of you and you found yourself wandering closer, trying to peer over her shoulder to see what she was painting. Unfortunately, your curiosity led you a bit too close, and she noticed your presence creeping up behind her.
She turned to you, somewhat surprised that anyone other than her attendants had been watching. Recognition shone in her eyes when she took in your face, sheepish expression and all. “I know you! We came here in the same group!”
You were shocked she remembered you, but pleased nonetheless that she seemed friendly despite what had occurred with Jingshu. You returned her smile before answering. “Yes, we did,” you said with a small laugh. “Truthfully, I’m surprised you remember me. There were so many girls.”
She acknowledged your words with a nod. “True, but you stood out so much it was hard not to notice you.”
Stood out? You had done your best just to blend in, what could possibly have made you stand out so much that Xinyue remembered you? “Did I really?” You asked.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, debating how best to word her thoughts. “You always seemed so sad. Never talked to anyone, never smiled…” she trailed off, her brows somewhat raised and eyes wide, concern practically radiating off of her.
Of course you had been sad. You still were. You didn’t want to be there. You should have been at home, helping your mother with the household tasks or having tea with your father. More than anything else, you should have been preparing for your wedding.
Xinyue could see the swirl of emotions in your eyes, and she gestured to an empty seat at the table where she was seated. “Would you like to join me? You could share whatever is bothering you. Might make you feel better. Or we could request more supplies and you can paint with me?” She asked hopefully.
You eagerly accepted the offer to join her, having spent most of your time in the palace alone, save for your ladies who didn’t seem to have the extra time to socialize with you in between their daily tasks. It wasn’t even proper for them to walk next to you on your walks around the gardens, always keeping at least two steps behind you at all times. Xinyue requested that one of her ladies bring more supplies, and you gladly took a seat beside her.
“Not to be too forward, but do you want to talk about whatever is making you sad? It seems like more than just not wanting to be here.” You hesitated and she picked up on it immediately. Waving her arms in front of her, she quickly backpedaled. “Of course, you don't have to if you're uncomfortable!”
You laughed at her franticness, the feeling almost foreign as it had been so long. You shook your head, “No, it’s okay. I think it would make me feel better to share with someone.”
You picked up the paintbrush one of the ladies had brought out to you, and Xinyue followed your lead, resuming her painting while glancing your way and waiting for you to begin your story.
You took a deep breath, trying to briefly collect your thoughts before finally speaking. “I was promised in marriage before coming here. We were going to marry next spring. I’ve known him my whole life. Our parents are close friends and business partners, so they thought that by arranging their children to marry they could ensure joint prosperity. It wasn’t just an arranged marriage for me.”
Xinyue had a soft, sympathetic look on her face. She knew exactly where this was going. You continued. “I really did want to marry him.” Your voice cracked and your throat was becoming painful with the effort to not cry. “It was a palace eunuch that thought I would be a good candidate. So now I’m here, and I’ll likely never see him again. He’ll marry someone else and I will still be trapped here.” The tears spilled then, against your wishes and best efforts to keep them at bay. You rushed to wipe them from your face, but she placed a gentle hand on your forearm.
“It’s okay to cry, y’know? I won’t judge you for being upset.”
You only shook your head, not quite ready to be that vulnerable with a woman you had only just made the acquaintance of, no matter how kind she’d been so far. When you had sufficiently pulled yourself back together you turned your full attention to her, unfinished painting left abandoned in front of you. “How did you come to be here?”
Xinyue flushed, somewhat ashamed at her circumstances after hearing yours. “I come from a noble family. My parents wanted to elevate their political and social standing.” She didn’t elaborate further. She didn't need to; hers was a common story. Many noble families sent their daughters as candidates to directly tie their family to the imperial line, especially if their daughter happened to bear a son.
From there, the conversation drifted to lighter topics. Discussing books you had both read, complimenting each other’s painting skill, even arranging to meet again the next day since you’d both found the other could play an instrument—why not play together? At some point, she leaned in to whisper to you if you had heard anything about the skirmishes in the poorer regions of the country. She seemed almost shocked. Apparently, it was a great hubbub where she was from, though you had heard of no such civil unrest.
Xinyue, sweet as she could be, was more than happy to fill you in. The emperor, and the government as a whole, really, wasn’t following through with their promises to send food to struggling townships. Some of the people took it upon themselves to attack traveling merchants, making the roads dangerous. You took in her words with rapt attention.
Though you didn’t know it, as you were learning about the strife that apparently riddled the nation, your beloved was actively fighting on behalf of the empire.
------------
One after the other they fell by his sword. Old, young, it didn’t matter. He had his orders and he would follow them. He would ride through the ranks, he would be recognized by the emperor, and he would have you as his. You were the one single point on which all of his drive and motivation was hinged. How the slaughter of bandits and petty thieves would get him there, he didn’t know, but he didn’t need to. He just knew that his tasks were important to his commanders, so he would complete them without fail or hesitation.
However, it didn’t escape his notice how frail some of the men looked. They were far too weak to fight imperial soldiers, but still they fought with the desperation of men that had everything to fight for. But so did he.
Still, he thought it odd that these men, who clearly were not equipped for this lifestyle, were so determined to condemn themselves. He never got the chance to ask them himself, and he certainly wasn’t going to question his senior officers. It wasn’t until he was promoted to captain that he finally got an answer. An answer for their desperation. Their frailness. Their hopeless yet unrelenting pursuits. Simply put, they were starving. Each time Sylus had fought what he was led to believe were petty bandits, he was really fighting ordinary citizens like himself, albeit much worse off financially than the Qin family.
It was only after he had made it to the rank of commander, the highest rank sent out on what the empire considered small, inconsequential skirmishes, that he was able to give the order to interrogate rather than kill on sight. From one of the countrymen he learned that a recent drought had decimated their crops, leaving the people in dire need of food. He turned to the men in his troop. “These men will not be harmed.”
The man who had been made to kneel before Sylus looked up in shock. Before he could say anything, Sylus continued, now addressing the man. “Hunger is not a crime. But thievery is. I may understand your motivations, but the emperor does not have a tolerance for such a crime. In return for sparing your life, I expect the theft to stop and for each of those involved to await further word from me.”
Sylus was playing with fire and he knew it. That night, with his men gathered around the campfire, he explained to them that not a word of this was to be spoken of. It wouldn't matter if Sylus took full responsibility—the entire regiment would be punished. It took some convincing, but none of them could deny that he had a point earlier. It wasn’t a crime to be hungry. As the men discussed how on board with this they actually were, Sylus stared into the fire, contemplating how he’d be able to tell Caleb about the development without anyone overhearing.
His opportunity came quicker than he anticipated. Caleb had found him first, leading him into the woods surrounding camp. “And what could you possibly have to show me?” Questioned Sylus.
“Oh, shut up and just follow me.”
Sylus rolled his eyes but continued anyway until the pair came to a pier that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. “Ta-da!” Caleb said in a sing-song voice, arms extended dramatically. He wasted no time stripping his outer layers and jumped right in. Sylus opted to sit on the edge of the old pier, his legs dangling in the water. Caleb groaned, “Man, I thought you were going to swim with me. And let's face it, you could use a bath.”
“Apologies for not wanting to strip down to my underwear in the presence of those young ladies,” Sylus chuckled, pointing to a pair of girls on the opposite bank giggling to each other, each with a basket of clothes in their arms.
Caleb looked horrified and almost made to get out of the water before thinking better of it. As long as he was mostly submerged, the murky water would keep him concealed. “Bet it wouldn’t have been a problem if it was Y/n over there,” Caleb mumbled.
Sylus shot him a pointed glare only to be rewarded with his friend’s self-satisfied smirk, pleased to have gotten under his skin. “If it was Y/n you’d have a black eye for undressing in front of her.”
Caleb rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, she’s off limits, I know. Wouldn't dream of taking your girl.”
The conversation lulled, and it wasn’t until the girls across the water left with their now-clean laundry that Sylus spoke up about what had been bothering him. “Those bandits they’ve been having us fight,” he started. “Do you know why there has been such an increase in merchant attacks?”
“Can’t say I do, why?”
“Has it not struck you as odd how weak they are?” Sylus raised a brow at his companion.
“In what sense? I mean, we are imperial soldiers, so of course average citizens would seem weak.”
Sylus sighed, exasperated. “No, not like that. Weak in the sense that they’re frail. The other day I spoke to one of them. Their villages are starving and the empire is doing nothing to help them. They rob the merchants and travelers to either take whatever food they have or anything of value they can sell.”
As Sylus was speaking, he’d been staring into the water, watching the ripples formed by Caleb’s movements. He didn’t return his gaze to his friend until he’d finished, finding a stormy expression in place of his usual carefree one.
Caleb huffed and pulled himself out of the water, seating himself next to Sylus and drawing one leg up, his arm propped on his knee. He seemed to be struggling to find the words to say. After a few moments’ thought, he asked, “So what did you do?”
Sylus gave Caleb a full debrief of what had transpired. “Y’know, if any higher ups find out what you did, you’ll get killed for treason.”
Sylus growled. “Which is why they won’t find out. Are you really going to continue to punish these people who are only trying to survive? To keep their families fed?”
A sigh of resignation. “No, I guess not. But what instead?”
“Talk to your men. Let them know we’ve all intentionally been kept in the dark. The generals know that most of the army come from the same types of villages and towns as these people. They would sympathize. But they’ve painted them as thieves and criminals. Of course there’s the threat of execution as well for not following orders.”
Sylus told Caleb of how, in return for sparing the lives of the bandits, the thievery would stop, else it would be all of their heads. It took time and convincing, but he and Caleb came to an agreement: have the men in their regiments spare the citizen’s lives, and convince the citizens that they’re on their side and are genuinely trying to help.
------------
Music floated through the open windows of the room you and Xinyue occupied. As agreed the last time you’d spent time together, you were playing your respective instruments to create a beautiful melody that caught the attention of any passerby within earshot. It had been many days of practice, and your piece was finally perfected.
As the last note faded away, Xinyue took the opportunity to tell you of her latest encounter with the emperor, sans the savory details. “I told him that I was practicing my music with another girl, and he seemed really interested. He wants to hear us play the piece once we have it down.”
Your face paled. She meant well. She did. But you had done your absolute best to not draw attention to yourself, to not stand out in any way. You knew you couldn’t outright refuse the emperor, but every cell in your body was screaming to stay far, far away from him.
You smoothed the fabric of your dress (the beautiful garment likely costing more money than you could fathom) in an attempt to soothe yourself and gather your thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence.
Still, Xinyue was nothing if not observant, as you’d come to find out when you first met her. Her brows pinched together. “You look upset. Should I have not said anything?”
You sighed, resigned to the fact that you would probably have to intentionally make a fool of yourself to tarnish your image in the emperor's eyes. “I don’t want the emperor's attention on me,” you finally confided. “Whether I’m here or at home my heart still belongs to Sylus. None that lie with the emperor are ever permitted to leave, and I simply can’t allow that to happen.”
Xinyue’s eyes widened, her lips forming a perfect O-shape. “I didn’t even think what it could mean for you. I was just talking—“
You cut her off quickly. “No! It’s not your fault!”
She looked ashamed for a moment at having brought such distress to her friend, but it was quickly replaced with a stern, determined expression, an idea forming in her head. “He likes graceful and confident women. Trip on your dress. Stutter when you speak and do so quietly. Keep your head down and twiddle with your fingers. I can’t undo my words and I can’t prevent him from coming, but I can help you be as unappealing as possible to him.”
Though you were still anxious that you were to be thrust into the spotlight before the emperor, you were thankful that Xinyue was there to help, even if she was the reason for the mess in the first place.
------------
Later that night, after you had gotten ready for bed, you found yourself unable to sleep. You just couldn’t get comfortable, and every sound was amplified in the stillness of the night. Clearly you weren’t getting any sleep, so you huffed and sat up, contemplating what to do with your newfound free time. Your eyes wandered to the small desk you had been provided with in your room, untouched stationary sitting atop it just waiting to be used. You hummed to yourself, thinking as you frowned at the lantern you had already blown out with no way of relighting it. You eyed the wooden brushes scattered on the desk. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work without having to wake someone.
You chose one brush at random and exited your room with it, on the lookout for the nearest lantern that still had a candle burning. You found one and scurried back to your room as soon as the wooden end of the paintbrush was lit. You probably looked like some kind of fool, but that could work in your favor given the circumstances, so you weren’t particularly bothered.
Now with an appropriate light source, you could start what you’d wanted to from the beginning. Even if you couldn’t send letters outside of the palace, you could still write them. You opted to use the paintbrush you’d sacrificed, almost as an apology for using it for anything other than its intended purpose.
My beloved Sylus,
The palace is a terribly dull place. It’s beautiful, but I find myself doing the same things every day. There was one instance when I witnessed an argument between two other girls. Jingshu, who has an ego larger than the palace itself, and Xinyue, with whom I am now friends. It was entertaining, short lived as it was. But now that I’m friends with Xinyue it’s not something I want to see repeated. With another girl perhaps.
Lately, Xinyue and I have taken to playing music together. She’s a lovely erhu player, but today she told me that the emperor wishes to hear us play. I haven’t met him and it worries me to be in his presence. Xinyue said she’d help me be less appealing to his tastes, so hopefully all will be well.
Life here is so boring there’s not much else for me to share. I’m well taken care of and never go without anything. Much of my copious free time is spent wondering what you’re doing at that exact moment. I hope you’re well.
Yours always,
Y/n
Not a literary masterpiece by any means, but it’s not as if you’d be able to send it anyway. You sighed, eyes downcast on the drying ink. When you were certain the ink would no longer smear, you folded the letter and placed it in one of the drawers. Couldn’t afford anyone reading that, could you?
With nothing left to occupy yourself, you decided to at least try to get some sleep tonight. You left the lantern lit this time, having learned your lesson the first time. If the candle burned out, then so be it. The palace could afford more. You settled into the sheets, and, thankfully, sleep found you quickly this time.
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“You mean, you’re not punishing us?” The man asked timidly from his knees, Sylus’ imposing figure standing over him.
“Consider the fear of being killed itself your punishment. I’d like to speak with you privately if I may?”
The man nodded quickly, more than willing to do whatever was asked of him if it meant his head remained attached to his shoulders. Sylus followed him to what he assumed was the man’s private residence. Upon entering, Sylus was greeted with the sight of two young children chasing each other around the home. The thinness of their arms did not escape his notice. He frowned, a small furrow forming between his brows.
“Do you see why—“
Sylus held up a hand to stop him. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I know. It’s the same all across this region. It’s also why I want to speak to you.”
Sylus explained everything to the man. How he was on the cusp of being promoted again, how, if he could earn that sway with the emperor, then he could personally implore the government to help its people. It was asking a lot, he knew, but he needed to be able to tell his superiors that the thievery would not continue, and for that to work he needed the man’s cooperation, and that of his accomplices as well. The man was hesitant to agree, for obvious reasons, but acquiesced. Sylus informed him that he would be in touch.
Time and time again it was the same thing. Truth be told, he was tired of giving the same talk over and over again, but it would all be worth it in the end.
It was during one of these routine raids that Sylus came across a pair of young men. He had given them and the other men the spiel and deal he’d given everyone else. Instead of slinking back home like he’d expected them to, however, the two approached him. As they neared, Sylus couldn’t help but glance between the two. Twins, they had to be.
“We want to work for you,” declared one of them boldly, the other nodding his head in affirmation.
Sylus’ eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, shocked. He had been expecting to be confronted, argued with, or even fought, but certainly not this.
“Are you saying you wish to join the army?”
“No,” said the one who had nodded. “We want to work for you, specifically.”
Sylus’ initial shock morphed into confusion. These two couldn’t possibly be serious. He decided to gloss over it for the time being. “What are your names?” He asked, addressing the one who had first spoken so boldly.
“Luke,” he responded. Sylus looked to the other one.
“Kieran.”.
“Right, and why would you want to take orders from me, specifically?” His confusion was mounting every second he didn’t get an answer or know for sure that these two were genuine. Although, in the event that they were, he already had a task in mind.
“Because there’s nothing for us here. We don’t have a purpose of our own right now, but you seem like you do, so let us fight for your cause until we find our own.”
Sylus was taken aback. He pondered how best to go forth. On one hand, they could be advantageous to have in his service, on the other, they could get killed in the process, and Sylus wasn’t sure if that was a weight he wanted on his conscience. Still though…
He exhaled heavily through his nose. “Can the two of you pose as eunuchs in the Forbidden City?”
Initially, they had begun to smile, excited at the prospect of having a mission. But then the words actually registered. “We wouldn't have to actually become eunuchs, right?”
“Of course not. That is why I said ‘pose’ as eunuchs.”
Their relief was practically palpable. It was Kieran who pressed for more details. “Why do you want us to go there?”
“There’s a woman there I need to get in contact with. Her name is Y/n L/n.”
“We can do that, but why do you need our help with that?”
“Because she’s not a servant; she’s a concubine. They’re not permitted to contact anyone outside of the palace. So I need you two to relay messages.”
The twins nodded solemnly. “How will we know where to address our letters back to you once we’re there?”
Sylus raised a hand to his face, rubbing at his chin in thought. “There’s a depot nearby. Send your messages there. I should be in this region for a while, so I’ll be able to stop by and collect anything you send.”
Luke and Kieran nodded in understanding. “We’ll set out first thing tomorrow morning.”
With that settled, they each went their separate ways: Sylus back to his horse to return to camp, and the twins to their home to prepare for the long journey ahead of them.
------------
You were going to be sick. You could feel the bile rising in your throat as your nerves wreaked havoc on your body. With Xinyue’s coaching, you knew exactly how to behave to ensure the emperor took no interest in you now or, even better, ever.
The servant girls were scrambling around, ensuring that tea and snacks were prepared and the instruments set up and ready to be played with skill befitting a personal companion of the emperor.
You knew when he had arrived not because you saw him, but because the maids went deathly quiet. The idle chatter that had previously filled the ornately decorated room had come to a complete halt. Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to burst with the intensity of its beats. You and Xinyue rose from your seats and turned to greet him.
Nervous as you were, perhaps you didn’t even need Xinyue’s help to make a fool of yourself. You felt more than capable of doing that all on your own.
The emperor returned the greeting to each of you, his eyes lingering on Xinyue in a way that made your skin crawl. You knew the purpose of having so many women at his fingertips, just waiting to be graced with his favor, but you could not imagine your entire life being dedicated to a man who may not ever so much as spare you a glance, much less love you. You thought of Sylus. He had looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, like you were the axis on which his whole world spun. The emperor did not look at you in such a way.
When his attention shifted to you, his eyes roved over your figure, almost analytical in the way he scanned up and down. He was younger than you had anticipated, but still clearly older than you and most of the other court ladies.
Once the emperor was fully settled in his seat, indulging in the steaming cup of tea that had been carefully poured for him, you and Xinyue took your respective seats. She got into position to play and looked over at you, ensuring you were ready as well, your fingers hovering over the strings.
You counted off together and began to play in sync, the long draw of her bow across the erhu creating a melody perfectly completed by the plucking of your guqin. It was a lovely piece, truly, just such a shame to be played for a man you harbored such animosity and fear towards.
He had a small smile on his face as he watched the two of you in silence. As the music continued, his attention drifted from Xinyue to you with a contemplative expression. You didn’t like that. Not one bit.
He likes confident women, you remembered Xinyue telling you. You plucked the wrong string, the sharp note ringing harshly in the air. It was a jarring sound, immediately disrupting the gentle melody that had been permeating the space. You spared a glance at the emperor, who seemed somewhat disgruntled. You also didn’t miss the sideways glance from Xinyue, who knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was intentional.
After your small error, you played up the act of a nervous woman. Of course, you truly were nervous, but not for the reasons you needed the emperor to think. You hunched your shoulders more and tucked your head lower than it needed to be. But this wasn’t the last of your little “mistakes”.
When the piece had come to its conclusion, you both waited for the emperor’s remarks.
“The music was lovely, though I falsely believed I gave you ample time to perfect it. It seems as though more practice time would have been beneficial.” He didn’t outright say if, but that was most assuredly directed at you. Even still, he didn’t seem as disinterested as you wanted him to be. You’d have to try harder.
As the emperor rose to take his leave, you and Xinyue did so as well to see him out, presenting you with the perfect opportunity to ensure that the emperor would never so much as look twice at you. When you went to step forward, you hooked your foot around the leg of the table that supported your guqin. You went sprawling to the floor, and, for a brief moment of horror, you thought the now-teetering table would come down with you, guqin and all. Thankfully, the table stabilized and your instrument was unharmed, but your reputation in the eyes of the emperor was certainly not. He looked down at you with mild disdain, the corners of his lips turned down slightly in a small frown.
Your little performance was made even better by Xinyue’s presence. She was regal and poised throughout the entire affair, the perfect contrast to the bumbling fool you had made yourself out to be.
Still, the show must go on. You scrambled to your feet, the servant girls having rushed forward to help you up. You hurriedly glanced at the emperor and plastered a panicked look on your face, ready to further tarnish his view of you with words (You should stutter when he speaks to you) instead of just actions. But he wasn’t even looking at you. No, he was thanking Xinyue again for the evening, and then he made his leave.
You walked forward to stand next to Xinyue, watching the emperor until he was out of sight. The moment you could no longer see him, Xinyue dismissed the servants. Upon their exit, she turned to you with all the excitement and giddiness of someone whose wildest dreams had come true. “It worked! It worked!” She lunged herself at you, her arms wrapped around your shoulders. She pulled back before you could return the gesture. Your own broad smile mirrored hers. Tears welled up in your eyes from sheer relief.
Even if you could not be with him, you would remain loyal to Sylus until the grave.
The remainder of your day was spent in the company of Xinyue. It wasn’t like either of you had any other important matters to attend to. Your only function in the inner palace was to be pretty and produce children. You were thrilled that you had been able to make such a good friend. It was also to your great amusement that she was very well informed about the happenings of the palace. She was quite the gossip. Apparently, Jingshu had caused a ruckus again, this time directed at a laundry girl who had been unable to remove a stain from one of her outfits. You rolled your eyes at the story. As if Jingshu wasn’t extremely pampered in the court and wouldn’t have a replacement by the end of the day.
Interestingly, there were also rumors of a new eunuch who was seemingly everywhere all at once.
“From what I’ve gathered from my ladies, one person might see him in one area, but someone else will say that they just saw him in a completely different part of the palace. It’s strange. Perhaps he runs everywhere he goes.”
The conversation naturally drifted towards other topics until, before either of you knew it, the sun was setting. “Oh my, it got late quickly,” giggled Xinyue.
“Indeed it did. We should both ready for bed. Would you like to visit the bathhouse tomorrow?” You offered, thoroughly enjoying the time spent with her and already looking forward to more chances to hang out.
She nodded eagerly. “But only if we look for that new eunuch first.” You recognized that familiar glint in her eye. You laughed lightly, your curiosity admittedly piqued as well. Palace life had been so boring that even this small mystery was enough to have you intrigued. You bid each other good night, and you made your way back to your own quarters.
During your walk, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being followed. You quickened your steps, eager to return to your room. You tried to reason with yourself that you could simply be paranoid, or that those faint rustling sounds were from the trees and not the fabric of one’s clothes. Either way, you surely weren’t going to turn around.
When you made it back, you double checked that every door and window was firmly shut and locked. Your heart was racing, but for what? You didn’t even have proof, or reasonable suspicion for that matter, that you had been in any danger. You shook your head to clear the thoughts. It wouldn’t do you any good to dwell on it, and you would only make yourself even more paranoid.
With a sigh, you plopped down at your desk, intending to write another letter to Sylus. It had become a nightly ritual of sorts, though it was more like writing in a diary than letters meant to be sent to someone. They were mostly short, telling him about your day and asking questions about his that you so desperately wanted the answers to. How were your families? Was he faring well helping his father’s business? Are your peonies still blooming?
And, the one that you could never bring yourself to write for fear that you would write it into existence—
Has a new bride been chosen for him?
Again, you chose not to dwell on it. There was nothing you could do if your worst nightmare had actually come to pass, and it would only serve to upset you. As far as you were currently aware, it was only a hypothetical situation that deserved no more consideration than the dirt that kisses the bottom of one’s shoes. You took a deep breath to gather your scattered thoughts as you pulled out the appropriate materials to begin your nightly letter.
My beloved Sylus,
Today Xinyue and I played music for the emperor, and I made a right fool of myself. Intentionally, mind you. Plucked the wrong strings, refused eye contact, and even tripped over a table leg. I really thought I had overdone it and would take the table down with me, but it was fine. It would have been a shame to damage the guqin I was supplied with. It is of extraordinary craftsmanship. It was embarrassing having to pretend I’m less than what I am, but entirely worth it since I do believe that the emperor will not seek my company.
After that, I spent my day with Xinyue. Jingshu has been causing trouble again. It’s always something with her. This time it was a laundry girl who was victim to Jingshu’s anger. Something about a stain she couldn’t remove. Xinyue also told me about this new eunuch who seemingly has a knack for being in two places at once, so those are our plans tomorrow. Finding him, that is.
Also, while I was returning from Xinyue’s quarters I could have sworn I was being followed. Truthfully, I was too scared to turn around so I walked faster. I’m writing from the desk in the safety of my room now.”
A sharp rap sounded on the window. Your pen stilled and your breathing practically stopped as well. Your room was now dead silent as you sat motionless in your chair, waiting to see if the sound would come again or if your brain was just playing tricks on you. You were waiting on another knock, but instead you heard the whispers of a hushed argument from outside your window.
You took a deep breath and rose from your seat as silently as you could. You listened intently, only making out snippets here and there. Small phrases such as “right room” or “sleeping.” The occasional insult, as well.
You swallowed thickly and reached out a hand towards the window. With your grasp now firmly on the frame, you yanked it open, revealing two young eunuchs. In their startled state, they both jumped back a step.
“What are you doing?” You asked bluntly. Seeing that it was just some palace eunuchs, you calmed down somewhat, but you were still concerned about why they were there at all.
“Ah, well,” started one.
“We were just, um,” continued the other one.
“Just spit it out, please. What reason do you have to lurk outside of my bedroom at this time of night?” You were growing frustrated. Just who were these two? Granted, there were many eunuchs employed on the palace grounds, but in your few months there you had never seen these two.
“Are you F/n L/n?” Asked one suddenly.
“I am. Why?”
Their faces brightened and they turned to look at each other, ecstatic over something you didn’t understand.
“Mr. Sylus sent us!” Exclaimed one.
You immediately focused all of your attention on the one who had spoken. “Sylus sent you? Who are you and how do you know him?”
“I’m Luke, and this is Kieran. We were part of a not-so-legal group and Sylus was the captain of the—”
You cut him off. “Captain? Do you mean he’s joined the army?”
“Oh, did you not know that?” Asked Luke, his head tilted to the side.
You didn't answer, lost in thought about what could have possibly made him join. Somehow, you knew Caleb was involved.
“No, I didn’t,” you answered, your brows arching up in surprise. Sylus had never had any interest in military pursuits, so why now?
“Anyways,” continued one of the—whom you assumed to be, at least—twins.
. . .Twins.
It hit you just then, and you had to fight off the smile your lips so desperately wanted to form. Who could be in two places at once if not twins?
“Mr. Sylus took us on as his employees of sorts. We were sent here to find you.”
“He seems to care a lot about you,” chimed the other one. “Who are you to each other? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“We grew up together. We were even supposed to get married, until I got sent here.” Your voice took on a wistful tone as you spoke.
For a brief moment, the twins looked as if they regretted asking. With some hesitation, Kieran asked, “Why haven’t you written to him?”
Luke elbowed him. “Because she’s not allowed to, duh. Mr. Sylus told us this.”
Kieran had the proper sense to look embarrassed, his face flushing red. “Oh, yeah.”
Luke continued, “If there’s anything you want to send him, we can take care of it. It’s why we’re here.”
You were skeptical, you had to admit. You knew the rules about correspondence outside the palace walls, but these two knew Sylus by name. You were uncertain, but your eyes slowly drifted to the unfinished letter, and then to the drawer that housed every other you’d written with the belief that he’d never read them.
You turned back to the twins, ready to ask the question that had weighed heavily on your mind since your arrival in this horrid place. “How is Sylus? Is he well?” The deep care and concern you held for the man in question was written all over your face as you anxiously awaited their response.
“Uhhhh,” was the collective response of the two boys. “Sorry, but truthfully we don’t know him well enough to answer that.”
You nodded in understanding, disappointed but ultimately not surprised. “So, if I give you two something, you can get it to Sylus?”
Their previously apologetic expressions immediately morphed into ones of excitement. “That’s why we’re here! Give us what you’ve got and we’ll handle the rest!”
You chuckled at their enthusiasm, quickly becoming enamored with their amusing attitudes. While gathering all the letters you had written over the months, your eyes landed on the unfinished one at your desk. You looked to the window where the twins were waiting patiently, whispering amongst themselves. “Could you give me a few minutes to finish this?” You asked, holding up the letter.
With their somewhat overeager approval, you picked up where you had been interrupted, drawing a line under your last sentence.
“Shortly after writing the above portion, there was a knock on my window. Scared me half to death but I had nothing to worry about. Just two identical admirers.
P.S. The army? That has Caleb written all over it. Please be safe.
Yours always,
Y/n
The second the ink was sufficiently dry, you folded it and added it to the stack. It struck you then, that there was in fact something else you wanted Sylus to receive. You dug through your pockets and pulled out a small square of cloth. It was always on your person, but you rarely found actual need for it. You placed it within the stack and began to dig through your desk drawers. You could have sworn you had some string somewhere. Pulling the drawer out completely, you finally found it tucked away at the very back. Of course. You should have known the second you needed it it would practically be hiding.
With the string now in hand you wrapped the letters securely, using a small knife helpfully supplied by one of the twins to sever the material to a reasonable length.
Upon handing over the stack to Kieran, it was safely stashed away in his robes, hidden completely out of sight. “We’ll have these sent out first thing tomorrow, miss.”
With that, they were gone. No sign that they had ever been there. Certain you wouldn’t be writing any more letters tonight, you blew out the lamp and crawled into bed with a warm smile on your face, your mind filled with thoughts of ruby red eyes and silky silver hair.
------------
Letters. Filled with your handwriting. Your thoughts. Even your tears, if the small blotchy smudges were any indication. This was the closest Sylus had been to you in so long it was like having a tiny piece of his soul restored from when it had shattered all those months ago.
Overcome with the sheer relief that you were okay, he withdrew to his tent to pour over every letter like it was sacred text. He was meant to lead these men, not show them a side of himself they were never meant to see—the side that was only for you. As he read through them, he noticed that a “Xinyue” was mentioned frequently. You’d made a friend. Even if he couldn’t be there with you, it was comforting to know you had someone there who cared. There was also a Jingshu, whom Sylus couldn’t help but roll his eyes at with her every appearance in the day-to-day chronicles you wrote for him.
However, all the amusement of the palace gossip was washed away immediately when he read that the emperor would be visiting you. Not bothering to read the rest, he flipped through the mess of paper on his cot, looking for the appropriate date that followed what he had just read. He’d kill the man personally if he had forced anything.
The second he found what he was looking for, his hand shot out to take it from the pile, his overzealousness causing the fragile paper to crinkle in his grip, his lips a thin line and brows pulled into a deep furrow.
A table leg. You’d tripped over a table leg to intentionally make yourself undesirable. A deep chuckle erupted from Sylus’ chest, his nerves releasing themselves in the form of laughter. As his laughter abated and he looked over your letters fondly, still scattered around him, he realized that they all began and ended the same way. He was still your beloved, and you were still his. His heart clenched in his chest. Oh, how he missed you. Your laugh, your voice, your jokes, the way your hands fit in his, the way your lips had molded to his, how your waist had felt under his hands.
His thoughts were running away with him and he made no effort to stop them. You consumed his every waking thought and he didn’t even care. With every fantasy that gripped his imagination Sylus slipped further and further away from reality. He was no longer on his cot in a tent, he was home with you. It wasn’t his hands impatiently freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his pants. They weren’t his own fingers wrapping around the shaft, stroking up and down slowly with single-minded intent. He pictured you in front of him, on your knees with his legs on either side of your head, your warm breath blowing over his sensitive tip right before you took him in your mouth.
Sylus stifled a groan as the image morphed into you with teary eyes, struggling to take the full length of him into your mouth. Barely able to remain sitting upright, he collapsed onto his cot, your letters with their immaculate penmanship that had been so neatly tied together now spread beneath his large figure. He continued his ministrations, using every ounce of his self control to keep the pace steady, to make the fantasy last longer.
He thumbed his leaking slit, using his own precum as lubricant. This time, there was nothing he could do to stop the deep moan that pushed past his lips. The pleasure was overwhelming. The mental fantasy changed again. You’d look so pretty on top of him, taking what you wanted, what you needed from him. God, you could use him however you wanted and he’d say thank you.
Would you cry and wail for more? Would your nails scrape over his back as he pounded into you? Would you scream his name as he made you cum over and over again?
His hand shot out to grip the bedding, his fingers digging into a fabric much too soft to possibly be the military-supplied cloth. Your handkerchief. He’d completely forgotten about it. Without a second thought or a moment of hesitation, he snatched the small square of fabric and brought it to his face, inhaling deeply. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head from the intensity of it all. The fantasy had just taken on a more real element now that he was able to smell the perfume you always wore.
It fully immersed him in the image of you riding his cock, your breasts bouncing every time your hips met his. His hands squeezing your hips, guiding your movements. Your tight cunt fluttering around him as he thrusted upwards from beneath you. He gave in to the unbearable need to quicken his hand, his orgasm so close he could practically taste it. He was panting heavily into the cloth still held over his face, the tight grip on his cock as unforgiving as he imagined your pretty pussy would be. With one last pump, he unraveled, his sticky cum splattering over his bare abdomen and the hand over his face pressing tighter, a pitiful attempt to muffle the obscene noises he couldn’t quite hold in, only succeeding in pushing your sweet floral scent further into his nose. It was all too much, and he all but whimpered into the palm of his hand, still riding out his high.
When he was finally thinking clearly, albeit still out of breath, he couldn’t help but wonder if you had ever indulged yourself to thoughts of him in the same manner. Even so, there was still a part of him that felt bad for sullying the letters, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, only thinking about the day you would be his again, in the flesh and not just his imagination.
He’d only barely gotten himself cleaned up and presentable when he heard his name being called from outside the tent.
He ducked through the flap, seeing a young soldier waiting anxiously. As soon as he saw that Sylus had exited, he straightened his spine and nearly shouted the message he had been sent to deliver. “There’s an invasion at the border! You and your troops have been ordered to move out!”
Sylus nodded. “Understood.” He hated taking orders, but it was a necessary evil for his end goal. And this was the perfect opportunity to see if Caleb’s words had any truth to them. He just had to follow through and ensure he earned glory for himself.
------------
Easier said than done, Sylus thought bitterly as he wiped the long-dried blood from his armor. It had been a difficult battle, but one that would hopefully award him with bountiful military prestige.
“Man, you’ve looked better,” said a joking voice off to Sylus’s right. He turned to see Caleb, who certainly had no room to talk, and Sylus told him as much.
“Fine, I guess you don’t want to hear that we’ve been summoned to the palace. And that the emperor himself is requesting an audience with the two captains that earned him victory. But whatever. I’ll let him know you can’t make it.” Caleb shrugged, making to walk away.
“Come back here,” Sylus called after him. Caleb turned to look at him, an amused grin on his handsome face. “Are you serious?”
“Yup,” he answered, popping the p.
Sylus immediately retreated into his thoughts, dirty armor completely forgotten where it lay in his lap. Caleb could see that his friend was no longer paying him any attention. As much as he poked fun at Sylus for his infatuation, there was a part of Caleb that was jealous. He longed to have that sort of relationship, where you would do anything for the other person. It seemed like everyone around him had a lover. Even the medic had a girl of his own (though Caleb wasn’t supposed to know that). She had done an impressive job of disguising herself as a man. He didn’t know her motivations to go to such lengths just to be on a battlefield, of all places, but he figured he’d find out sooner or later. In the meantime, he was waiting on Dr. Zayne to finally notice that his dear little apprentice wasn’t just an effeminate man.
------------
When the day came, and both Sylus and Caleb were standing before the emperor, you would never know from appearances that Sylus was equal parts nervous and excited.
“You have both proven yourselves more than worthy of advancement. Captain Xia, you will assume the rank of colonel. And Captain Qin, you will assume the rank of general, for your instrumental role in subduing the invaders and in keeping the peace in our great nation’s southern regions. I would like to reward each of you with a gift, as acknowledgement for your great deeds. Other than just the extra responsibility of your new positions!” The emperor chuckled heartily at his own joke.
Caleb was right. A reward for military valor. Maybe all of this strife and bloodshed would finally be worth it.
“Well, boys? Any requests? It’s not everyday you get to personally ask for something from me. Land? Money? A title?” He looked at them expectantly.
Caleb answered first. “Money. I’m not sure about anything in particular, but when I figure it out I’ll already have the funds on hand.
The emperor nodded, accepting the request.
When it was Sylus’ turn, he spoke smoothly and confidently. “There is a woman amongst your harem that I would like returned to me.”
The emperor was shocked at first, entirely taken back that someone had made such a bold request of him. His shock faded into incredulousness and then to mirth. It was laughable. He guffawed, but Sylus’ determined expression did not waver. This was not a joke.
“My dear boy, I am the only one permitted to pick the flowers of my garden. Their scent and petals are for my enjoyment alone.”
Sylus wasn’t stupid. He got the innuendo and he was absolutely seething. Even if you were still untouched by this man’s disgusting hands, you were still at his mercy in the palace. He had to choke back a snarl.
The emperor’s cocky grin dropped momentarily, the phrasing of the request only just now registering. “You said ‘returned’ to you. Elaborate.”
Sylus swallowed thickly. “There is a girl here that I have known since my youth. We were betrothed to each other, only months from marriage, when she was called to the selection process here at the palace. She never returned.”
The emperor nodded with faux sympathy, but he was all too eager to again inform his new general that, no, none of his girls would be leaving the palace grounds. A muscle in Sylus’ jaw twitched, but he gave no other indication of the rage and anguish he felt. He saw Caleb glance at him from his peripherals, his friend’s face practically screaming “don't you dare lose control.”
“So, again, I ask you, is there anything else I can reward you with? I’m nothing if not generous, even if I’m not quite as generous as you had been hoping.”
Sylus pursed his lips in thought. “The reason the people of the South are causing the empire so much trouble is because they're desperate. Could I use my favor on their behalf? To have food sent to the villages?”
For a second time in just a few minutes, the emperor was well and truly shocked. Most of the requests he’d received were about money or a title. Never this. There was no room for a bleeding heart in his military. Especially not one coveting after something that didn't belong to him. He exhaled heavily from his nose, at least pretending to think about it.
“Rice to the south. Done.” Those fools didn't deserve so much as a second of consideration as far as the emperor was concerned, but it was clear that Sylus wasn’t going to waver in his ideals.
It wasn’t as though he had to specify how much rice, anyway.
“Well, that was unproductive,” Caleb remarked as they were being escorted to the gate that would lead them back into the city. “For you, anyway. Why didn't you just ask for land or something? You know there’s no way he’s going to follow through on what you asked, right?”
“He declined the only thing I wanted from him. Nothing I asked for could make up for it,” Sylus answered. His posture was rigid and his jaw was clenched. Everything about him screamed frustration. Why Caleb even bothered trying to talk to him in this state was beyond him. Sylus fumed the entire journey back to camp, and for days after. He was harsher with his subordinates than he ever had been, not tolerating even a single infraction.
Caleb could see the impending snap in his friend’s reasoning abilities creeping closer by the day, and the thing that finally broke him was another letter that Sylus received from you. The emperor was having the eunuchs question all of the women of the palace—concubines of all ranks, servant girls, and court ladies—if any of them had been engaged to a man named Sylus Qin. He was looking for you. That greedy bastard was actively trying to find the most cherished love of his general. And Sylus wouldn’t stand for it. With both his and Caleb’s promotion, they had each been allotted a much larger battalion. And, unfortunately for the emperor, it’s not hard to radicalize men who see firsthand the suffering caused by the man they're supposed to be loyal to. Also unfortunately for the emperor, he was so dead set on making an example of the South that the ratio of soldiers was skewed in Sylus’ favor.
Additionally, the villages he had been to were eager for a chance to show the emperor just how much of an error he made in abandoning his people. With such influence and ability, it wasn’t shocking when Sylus had a detailed plan put together and delivered to the men within the same week of receiving your letter. The twins had made sure to give Sylus their own updates when you were unable, informing him that you had denied knowing him and that the emperor was losing his patience more easily these days. It seemed it was really getting under his skin.
If only such effort had been given to the people he was supposed to care for.
The weeks passed quickly, and, once again, Sylus found his armor covered in the blood of others. Screams rang out through the city, and he hoped it was from soldiers that were stationed here in the capital still upholding their sworn duty and not from the innocent civilians. Either way, he didn't have time to dwell on it. There was only one person he cared for at this moment; the person he was committing treason for in the first place and who kept him up at night well into the early hours of the morning.
Caleb, who he had lost track of early in the chaos, sidled up next to him. “There you are. Was starting to think you were worm food. The city is pretty much occupied, and they just got the palace gates open. Ready to head that way?”
Sylus nodded grimly, following his friend to the imposing structure that had been your beautiful prison. But not for much longer.
------------
Maids and eunuchs were rushing to and fro all around you, screams emanating from the surrounding city, but no one would take the time to tell you what was going on. You were near hysterical at this point, scared beyond anything you had ever experienced. You didn't know what was happening, but you knew something was wrong. So terribly wrong.
“Y/n!” You heard your name yelled from behind you. You whirled around, finding Xinyue in the doorway looking every bit as frightened as you felt. You embraced tightly, relieved to see the other unharmed.
“What’s happening, what do we do?” you asked frantically.
“I don’t know! I heard one of the eunuchs say something about the army, so whatever it is is already being handled.” She tugged your arm. “C’mon, we shouldn’t stay out in the open like this.” She was right. The entire way back to her quarters all either of you saw was panicking staff and other concubines. No one seemed to truly know what had started all this. When you reached her room, she made sure to lock the door behind you both. You could still hear the shouts of people in the halls, but were only able to catch snippets. From what you gathered, the army wasn't here to help like Xinyue had assumed, but rather, they were the ones invading in the first place. And from the sounds of it, had already made it to the inner court.
------------
“Inform the eunuchs that if they stand down they will not be harmed. And I want every single concubine gathered here in the inner courtyard,” Sylus commanded the first soldier he happened to lay eyes on. “Unharmed!” He added.
“Yes, sir,” responded the soldier with widened eyes, clearly downright terrified to be addressed by the imposing general.
Sylus and Caleb stood side by side, looking up at the emperor’s personal palace. As desperately as Sylus wanted to look for you himself, the emperor was still breathing, and that was a problem that needed to be dealt with swiftly.
“Want me to go with you or look for Yn?” Caleb asked, not particularly bothered with what he was tasked to do so long as he wasn't standing around doing nothing.
Sylus thought about it for a moment. “Find her. And if you see some identical eunuchs, send them my way,” he answered.
Caleb obviously had no idea who Sylus could possibly be talking about. Twin eunuchs? How does Sylus even know any of the palace eunuchs? But whatever. It wasn’t really his concern anyhow. He briefly watched the broad back of his friend ascend the stairs before redirecting his attention to his surroundings. There were pavilions in all directions. Had to start somewhere, he guessed, before picking the left side.
All around him, Caleb saw cornered eunuchs cooperating with the soldiers and helping escort the women to the courtyard. Still, no sign of you. Room after room after empty room.
“Miss Yn, Miss Yn!” He heard someone calling. His head jerked to where he heard your name. It wasn't just one eunuch. It was two. And they looked exactly the same. What luck.
“Hey! You two!”
They both screeched to a halt. “What!” Shouted one of them.
“Who are you?” Shouted the other.
“I’m Colonel Caleb with the imperial army and a personal friend of Sylus Qin. He asked me to look for two identical eunuchs. I’m guessing that's you two?
They looked much less wary now that Caleb had introduced himself as a friend of Sylus’. “Yeah, why? We really have to look for someone, so we gotta keep moving.”
“Yn, right? Sylus already asked me to do that. He wants you both to meet him in the emperor’s personal palace.”
They looked at each other and nodded, about to run off again before Caleb stopped them for a second time. “Wait! Where might I find her?”
“Well,” started one of them, “you were actually going in the right direction towards her room, but we already checked and she wasn't in there.” Caleb frowned at that. “So we were going to see Lady Xinyue, since she and Miss Yn are close.” They quickly explained to Caleb how to get there before both parties set off to fulfill their orders.
Caleb ran at full speed towards where he hoped to find you, but when he reached the room, the doors were already wide open and the room devoid of any presence. He swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair while glancing around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He hoped at least some other soldier had found you and taken you to the courtyard as had been ordered. Otherwise it would take their full numbers to search the whole palace, massive as it is.
------------
Sylus couldn't believe that the sniveling man in front of him was the man who ran the entire country. After discovering the emperor holed up in his bedchambers, Sylus had Luke and Kieran restrain the poor excuse of a sovereign to a chair that likely cost more than what the average citizen made in a year.
“I made you a general, and this is how you repay me? Treason? What more do you want?”
Sylus leaned down, close enough for the emperor to see the pure unadulterated hatred swimming in Sylus’ ruby eyes. “I want my bride,” he growled, the sharp edge in his voice leaving no room for doubt that he was entirely serious.
The emperor blanched. “You spilled all of this blood, defied heaven, for a woman?” He exclaimed incredulously.
Without answering, Sylus straightened his back and strode out of the room, leaving the emperor where he was in the meantime. “Luke, Kieran. Stay with him.”
“Right, boss!”
Standing just outside the doors, Sylus could see the women of the palace gathered as he had instructed. Hell, even the eunuchs were accounted for. He made his way down the stairs quickly, all the while scanning through the crowd of immaculately dressed women, about one hundred in all, for one face in particular. His frustration and anxiety grew when he realized he probably couldn't even make out his own mother’s face at this distance, so he switched tactics. Now looking for Caleb’s imposing frame which would surely stand out in a crowd, he figured you’d be sticking by a familiar presence that you knew to be safe. By the time he made it to the bottom of the staircase, he still hadn't found you nor Caleb.
------------
You had been with Xinyue in her room when someone forced the door open. It was a soldier you didn't recognize.
“I need you two to come with me. All of the women are to be gathered in the courtyard by order of the general,” he demanded. You and Xinyue glanced at each other worriedly, but ultimately rose from your cowered positions, grasping each other’s hand for comfort. The soldier, for whatever it was worth, held the door open and gestured for the both of you to exit first.
He guided you towards the center of the inner court, where you saw many of the other women already gathered. He directed both you and Xinyue to join them. Still, no one had bothered to clarify the situation. All you knew was that the army was acting against the empire. The ladies around you were of even less help, unable to offer a modicum of new information.
“Look!” Xinyue whispered. “Someone is coming downstairs!”
You glanced at the staircase, seeing a tall figure descend the steps just as Xinyue had said. But what caught your attention was the silver hair that framed his face. His eyes were scanning the gathered crowd, but they didn't seem to linger anywhere in particular. Your breath caught in your throat. Could it actually be him? As he got closer and closer, still not stopping his obsessive search, his features grew clearer. There was no mistaking him.
He had only barely stepped off the last step when he heard it.
“Sylus!”
And there you were. Running towards him every bit as desperate to be in his arms as he was to have you there.
It felt like his heart and his breath stopped at the exact moment he saw your lovely face for the first time in what felt like millenia. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. But the second you threw your arms around his neck it felt like every broken piece of himself had never been broken in the first place. Without a second’s hesitation or thought, he wrapped one arm around your waist and placed his other hand on your upper back, pulling you into his sturdy frame as much as he could without hurting you.
There was no word for the euphoria you felt at being back in your lover’s arms, no word that could adequately describe the rush of emotions you were currently experiencing. “You came,” you sobbed into his chest.
“Darling, there is no force on this earth that could have even hoped to stand in my way,” he murmured solemnly, lips brushing against the top of your head.
He didn't even consider loosening his firm hold on you until you were pulling away to look up at him, eyes watery and ringed with a puffy red. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words quickly died in your throat. You had so many questions that you didn't even know where to start. Eventually, you settled on simply asking, “How?”
Sylus exhaled through his nose. It was now his turn to be unsure just where to start his tale. “The current emperor is unfit to rule, and these men bore witness to the proof. They were easily convinced. Will that satisfy you for now? I promise to answer every question you have for me, but right now I would like you to come with me.”
The last thing you expected to see when you walked into the room after Sylus was the emperor restrained to a chair with Luke and Kieran flanking either side of him.
“Sylus?” You started hesitantly, unsure what to make of the scene.
When the emperor saw who it was his oh-so-loyal general had brought with him, he couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of him. He recognized you as the pretty young thing his favored Xinyue often spent time with. A shame your other qualities weren't up to his standards.
“I recognize you. You're Xinyue’s friend,” he said, addressing you directly and opting to ignore his captor for the time being. He watched with narrowed eyes as Sylus stood directly behind you, arms winding around your waist, but continued speaking without commenting on it. “Yn, right?”
You swallowed thickly. Not trusting your voice, you only nodded.
“How does it feel,” began Sylus, the rumble of his voice sending vibrations through where his chest connected with your back. “To watch helplessly while I take what you consider yours?” His hands massaged your waist with sensual strokes as he spoke.
The emperor finally looked at Sylus, a deep scowl disfiguring his already relatively unpleasant face. “Arrogant, aren't you? You ought to know your place.”
“And you ought to know when to hold your tongue,” Sylus responded smoothly. He motioned to Kieran, who was already two steps ahead of Sylus with a strip of cloth in hand, wrapping it around the emperor’s jaw, forcing him to bite down on it. Satisfied, Sylus looked between the twins and the door. They took the hint, leaving you with Sylus and the still-struggling emperor.
When the door was again firmly shut after the twins’ exit, Sylus had to practically pry himself away from you so that he could maneuver you to face him. He exhaled softly when his eyes met yours, wide with uncertainty, but trusting him fully nonetheless.
He cupped one side of your face, his large hand cradling your cheek as he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb. “Are you ok?” He asked. It was a vague question that held a thousand more. He knew that this was a lot to take in, especially over the course of just a few hours.
You laid your own hand on top of his, nuzzling your cheek further into his palm. “I’m fine,” you answered, smiling softly. “Just really happy you’re here.” Sylus mirrored your smile with one of his own, his gaze glancing between your eyes and your lips. With slow, bated breath, he leaned in slowly. It was just a small peck, hardly even a kiss, but he hadn't even fully pulled away when he dove in for more, and you eagerly reciprocated. His lips were all that you knew in that moment—all that you could focus on—and nothing else mattered.
His arms again wound tightly around you, pulling you in close while he devoured your lips as though they were a fine delicacy he’d been deprived of his whole life. It wasn’t enough for Sylus, though. He needed more. He needed everything you were willing to give. His mouth trailed lines of fire down your jaw and neck until he reached a spot that had you gasping. He redoubled his attention to it, biting and sucking and leaving his claim on you for all to see.
“Sy,” you whined, the sensation of his tongue on your throat sending heat directly to your core. He hummed, but he didn't stop, not until you couldn’t speak again, unable to form a coherent thought.
He finally pulled away to look at your face. “Have you already had enough, kitten?” he asked mockingly. “Or is it that you need more?”
You answered without hesitation. “More. Please.”
He chuckled. “As my princess wishes.” Without any warning, he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he plopped you onto the emperor’s extravagant bed. You were the very picture of perfection to Sylus, your legs spread just for him and your shallow breaths bordering on needy whines.
He leaned in, recapturing your lips with his. He swiped his tongue across the seam, urging you to open up for him. He groaned into your mouth when you did, tongues tangling together. He slid a hand across your front, settling on your breast and squeezing gently.
You pushed your hips up, hoping to relieve the ache that had quickly settled into your body. He tutted, pulling away from your lips once again and placing a hand on your hips, keeping you firmly in place. “Patience is a virtue,” he said, a teasing smirk that showed you just how much he enjoyed teasing you.
“We’ve been apart for so long I don't have any patience or restraint left,” you said shamelessly, taking it upon yourself to pull him back down, crashing your lips back onto his. He laughed into the kiss, eagerly reciprocating. As much as he enjoyed teasing you, he was no less desperate. This time, he hooked his fingers into your clothes. “Let’s remove these then, shall we?” He whispered against your skin, already pulling the layers of fabric away from your body to reveal your skin to his hungry eyes. He drank in the sight, marveling at every curve and committing it to memory.
“You're so perfect,” he murmured, more to himself than directly to you.
You tugged on the armor he still donned. “This is hardly fair,” you stated. “That I’m the only one naked.”
He chuckled. “You're right, so why don't I fix that?” He climbed from the bed and stripped himself of both armor and undergarments before resuming his position on top of you. “Better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
You didn't even hear him, too busy admiring the physique he had surely worked hard on. Your gaze trailed from his solid shoulders to his defined chest and abs, and then it drifted even further to see his hard cock, swollen and dripping with precum.
“It’s rude to stare, you know. But if it’s you I guess I’ll make an exception.”
Before you could retort, his head swept downwards, his lips wrapping around your nipple and his tongue swirling around the bud, sucking lightly. Whatever you were going to say died in your throat, an unbidden moan escaping in its place. You felt the huff he exhaled from his nose, but he remained intent on his ministrations, using his other hand to give the same treatment to the other bud, tweaking it between his thumb and forefinger. You wound your hand through his silky hair, crying out his name and pulling him closer. Your heavy breathing and soft moans spurred him on as he switched sides, his teeth occasionally grazing the delicate skin in his fervor. Your poor, neglected cunt twitched desperately around nothing, aching to be filled. You clenched your thighs together, a pitiful attempt to produce even a little friction, a little relief.
With a soft pop, Sylus released your nipple, blowing cool air onto the wet skin. You shuddered, a soft sigh passing through your kiss-swollen lips. He began to trail open mouthed kisses down your torso, slowly, methodically, savoring the taste of your skin. Only when his head was snugly between your thighs did he look up at you, crimson eyes boring into yours. “Is this okay? Can I keep going?”
You didn't even think twice before giving him an eager nod of approval. A chaste kiss to your dripping folds was all the warning you were given before Sylus dropped all pretense of having any self control. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, gripping them tightly and preventing you from even attempting to close your legs. He licked a broad stripe from your clenching hole to your clit, which he eagerly laved in attention.
“Sy!” you squealed, writhing with pleasure in his iron hold, unable to move away from the overwhelming ecstasy. He moaned into your hot cunt, the vibrations adding to the stimulation. He released one of your legs to push a finger into you, curling the digit and providing the delicious friction you had been craving. He grew more and more fervent in his ministrations, his own hips grinding onto the bed. “Cum for me,” he growled, voice muffled from between your legs as he added another finger. “Give me everything.” With every lap and suck of his tongue and with every curl of his fingers you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You were panting for air, nearly coming apart at the seams as Sylus brought you right to heaven’s doorstep with just his sinful mouth and hand. WIth a final suck on your clit, you were pushed over the edge, your vision going white as you called his name.
Sylus pulled his fingers out slowly and repositioned himself on top of you. He pressed his fingers to your lips, urging you to part them. You obliged, taking them into your mouth and sucking your own juices off of his fingers as you watched him slowly lick his bottom lip. Satisfied, he freed his fingers from your mouth, using the same hand to slowly stroke his cock. He teased your entrance with the head, muttering a small curse under his breath when he finally pushed forwards. The burn of the stretch was almost completely overshadowed by the sheer euphoria he was making you feel. He filled you so fully you could practically feel him in your throat.
He groaned as soon as his hips were flush with yours, his cock fully sheathed inside you. “You feel so fucking good, sweetie,” he rasped, trying to get ahold of himself to allow you however much time you needed to adjust to his size, but that was easier said than done. The walls of your pussy were clamping down on him and he hadn't even started moving yet. At this rate, he would cum before he got the chance to feel your sweet cunt spasm around him as he brought you to another orgasm.
He mouthed at your neck and collarbones as he waited for any indication from you that you were ready for more. The very second that your plea hit his ears, he was pulling out almost completely just to thrust back into you all at once. You gasped, raking your nails down his back.
He set a brutal pace and you were certain he’d have scratch marks down his muscled back, not that he cared. As far as Sylus was concerned, those scratches marked him as yours. The way you said his name like a mantra spurred him on further, and he found himself reaching down to thumb your clit.
“Wait, Sy—ah—it’s too much—!” You wailed, tears beginning to well up in the corners of your eyes from the intense pleasure.
“You can take it. I know you can, so be a good girl and cum on my cock.” His voice was strained, arousal making it hard to even think straight, much less speak.
Your back was arching off the bed, your peak so close you felt like you might shatter at any moment. “You're so pretty,” Sylus panted from above you. “Even prettier when you're underneath me like this.” If his face and stuttering hips were any indication, he was just as close as you were. And you were just as enamoured with him as he was with you. His silky silver hair was unkempt, lips parted and gasping for air with each thrust into your sopping cunt.
When it finally hit you, all you could manage to do was cry out his name, your poor abused cunny spasming around his hard length. Your own pleasure was all it took for Sylus’ to overtake him. He buried himself to the hilt, hands gripping your hips with a bruising strength, holding you in place as he filled you with hot spurts of cum.
Spent, he collapsed on top of you, head nestled on your breasts and the both of you still breathing heavily. From over his shoulder, you could see the emperor seething from where he was still restrained in the chair. You noticed with wicked amusement that, as angry as he was, he was still aroused, the tent in his robes giving him away.
“What’s so funny?” Asked Sylus, tilting his head to look up at you.
“Nothing,” you answered lightly.
“I don't believe that for one second,” he mumbled into your skin. “Just as long as it’s not me you're laughing at.” He pushed himself up to pull out of you slowly, his cum dripping from your slit. He stared for a beat too long, captivated at the sight of himself leaking out of you. Giving no mind to the mess, he pulled you into his arms, your back flush to his chest, safe against him like it should have always been. As he situated himself, he briefly glanced at the emperor, noticing exactly what had probably amused you so much. He laughed. A real, true laugh. “That’s pathetic,” he scoffed.
Your lover settled behind you, stroking your skin gently. As much as he wanted to fall asleep with you, there were many things to be handled before he could relax. The highest priority of which was right there in the room with the two of you.
------------
When you woke, you were still warm and snug in your husband’s arms. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest from behind you. Still asleep. You knew firsthand how seriously he took his responsibilities as emperor, staying up well into the night pouring over documents and ensuring his people were taken care of. Not wanting to disturb his much-needed rest, you intended to go back to sleep, but a certain little one had other plans. You rested a hand on top of your rounded belly, the kicks more persistent than usual. Sylus, the light sleeper that he was, must have noticed your stirring.
“Good morning,” he mumbled, voice groggy with sleep and more gravelly than usual.
You turned slightly to look at him and raised a hand to his cheek. You didn’t think you'd ever get used to the sight of his handsome face first thing in the morning. “Morning,” you responded with a broad grin. You took his hand in yours, placing it where yours had been just moments prior. “Little one is active this morning,” you said. Sylus chuckled when he felt it under his palms, his eyes softer than even the finest of silks.
In true sibling fashion, you couldn’t give just one your attention. You heard the little patter of bare feet seconds before the bedroom door was pushed open, your 3 year old daughter rushing into the room. Mama! Papa!” She giggled, pulling herself up the foot of the bed.
“Well, good morning, sweetheart,” said Sylus, sitting up to pull her onto his lap. You sat up as well, leaning over as best you could to kiss her chubby little cheek.
It was a peaceful morning, spent mostly sitting in bed and entertaining your daughter. But duty will always call, and Sylus eventually had to leave to meet with his advisors. They were a tedious affair, especially since Caleb no longer attended. He had chosen to remain in the military and had since been given another assignment. Most of the time, the advisors didn’t dare question Sylus’ choices, but it seemed that today one of them had a death wish.
“There is still the matter of heirs. Have you considered reinstating the imperial harem, Your Majesty?” One of them asked timidly.
The glare Sylus fixed upon him was almost enough to convince him to resign his position right then and there just to escape the red eyes that promised unimaginable pain if he failed to tread lightly.
“And why would I do such a thing?” Sylus asked coldly. “Is Her Majesty the Empress not good enough for you?”
“No! No, of course that’s not what I meant! I just—” he faltered under the stare of not just Sylus but the two intimidating masked men that stood on either side of his chair.
“You just what?” Pressed Sylus, his eyes narrowing into slits.
“Well, Her Majesty has only provided you with a daughter, so there is concern for the security of the lineage.”
Sylus snarled at the careless comment. “I have no intention of ever bedding a woman that isn’t my wife. Who, since you’re clearly so concerned about it, is carrying our second child. And if you ever speak about my wife or daughter like that ever again, I’ll have your head, do you understand?”
The color drained from the advisor’s face. He nodded, but didn’t dare risk speaking again.
“Good. Then we’re done here.”
With that, Sylus rose from his seat to leave the room, eager to return to the beautiful family he had worked so hard to finally have.
Dragon! Sylus with a deaf! S/O who always waits for his return at their field of wild datura flowers in the heart of the forest.
You supposed it is only polite to ask permission from the grumpy dragon first before you start your daily foraging in this side of the forest.
A basket full of meatbuns, freshly baked lemon tart for dessert, and a flower crown you weaved from the blossoms you grow around your lone hut served as your ‘peace offerings’, you arrived before dawn breaks at this meeting place, your eyes scanning the horizon for the lone mountain king.
With a wingspan so wide, you are sure he will be able to circle the entire peninsula and back whenever he pleases but his ‘gifts’ says otherwise for you are sure they came from foreign lands far from here, places you have only seen from books shared to you by travelling witches who offered help when they could.
Where does your friend fly to every night? Only his gifts can tell.
In your eyes, you believe the dragon sees this as a form of barter, his ‘extravagant gifts’ are his form of currency every time you hand over your ‘peace offerings’.
In Sylus’ eyes, he doesn’t understand why you don’t wear his gifts every time you appear again the morning after.
So, when the great dragon landed on your meeting place with a new ornate hairpin on his claws that he is careful not to crush, it became his goal to make sure it stays in your hair before he goes check the basket of treats you have made just for him.
You will never hear his grunt of frustration as you were halfway through removing his ‘gift’ but a subtle flick of annoyance on his tail and that signature frown he makes when someone disturbs him midway on his meal is enough for you to take a pause, slowly putting your hands down, and then-
-He gave you a satisfied grin followed by his tail lazily wrapping around your waist as he took time to admire how his gift suited your hair quite well before he continued to devour the food the little mouse he grew to cherish brought just for him.
Oh, he will bring more, perhaps fly further down south overnight later but for now, he sits beside the greatest treasure he ever had and will ever be, before he lets you go.
See you tomorrow, little mouse.
Author's Notes: I apologize for being inactive for I believe, two weeks? Had to lock-in on a rather big event I am lucky to be able to join in and so happy to meet other Sylus enjoyers there as well! I know there may be people here who are looking forward to a full fic of this but I really do want to take my time to flesh it out, think of it as me wrapping a present just for you.
Taglist (Thank you for everyone's support! Do let me know if you want to be added or removed):
— synopsis: when you get a little too cocky when on a mission, it’s only a matter of time before your husband teaches you a lesson!
— pairings: sylus x afab reader — reader is written as a black female but everyone is allowed to read
— warnings: kissing, spit (1), p in v, doggy, mating press, reverse cowgirl, face sitting, gun play, sir kink, overstimulation, edging (slightly), sylus is properly pussy drink, choking, marking (biting, hickeys), bondage (handcuffs, blindfold), impact play (face, pussy + ass spanking), degradation AND praise, teasing, slight aftercare
— word count: 3.9K — rarest thing found on this blog
— a/n: thank you all so much for 1000 followers!! i can’t believe it, the last time i made a little note like this i was at 100 like last year!! im so happy to be able to make a little army of people who enjoys my work and appreciate my humour enough to follow me!! THANK YOU ALL — i will forever love you all for supporting me 💕 this took about 3-4 days so im currently at 1,186, STILL J LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCHHH THANK YOU FOR LIKING MY STUFF 😚😚 i was ovulating when making this so…if there anything wrongs it’s because i was writing straight from my pussy ENJOY
“Be careful.” Sylus sighed, right before you both jumped into battle, his mind already telling him that you’re up to no good.
“Be careful—” Sylus warned through gritted teeth, pulling you to a safe spot behind him.
“Be careful!” Sylus barked, spotting you nearly get caught in a deadly explosion. You, instead of reassuring him, scoffed at him and continued to fight.
Sighing in return, Sylus shook his head, ‘This girl is going to be the death of me, I swear.’
The sounds of swords and gunfire increased as the monster in front of you started to wither. Wanderer’s roars and growls nearly bursting your eardrums just by the sound of it.
When going to land a final strike, the Wanderers hand shot out, launching you a good two feet backwards. You caught yourself before you hit yourself on a boulder.
However, despite not seeing him yet, you can tell that he wasn’t happy at all.
Throughout the dust, you saw Sylus walk over to you before his hand grabbed your chin, pining you to the boulder behind you, his voice firm, “Do you want to die?”
“What?! No?”
“So why do you act like you do?” Sylus scoffed, yet all you can think about was how nice his hand felt around your throat. “Can you behave for once?”
“I am behaving.” You rose your voice; watching how his eyebrow rose.
You can tell what he was thinking but he didn’t say it out loud. Only letting go of your neck and walking off slowly. “Let’s go.”
“I’m not going with you.” Crossing your arms, your head turned to the side, a pout on your lips.
“And why’s that?” He sighed, turning back to see your back, the urge to just deal with you right here increasing.
“Because I said so.” Your voice was bratty enough to piss anyone off, but the man you were with was more of a brat enabler than everyone you’ve ever met. Feeling the tension in the air grow more playful, you added on, “Go away.”
He sighed, his hand slapping his forehead, “Can you get over here?”
Silence filled the area, your heart was beating roughly against your chest, knowing that he only has a few more seconds before he blows up.
“Don’t make me come over there, sweetie,” He said in a singing voice, walking slowly as to give you another chance.
You scoffed, “Come over here then.”
Without even hearing him, Sylus walked up to you before spinning you around to face to face with you. “Drop the attitude. I’m not dealing with your bratty antics tonight.”
“Make me.”
….
In seconds, the word was upside down, Sylus threw you over his shoulder, walking with a stern pace to what seemed to be his motorcycle.
“Oh I will. I’ll teach you a thing or two when we get back home. You better pray that you can even move in the morning.
—————————————————————
“Untie me!” you yelled at him, his stupid evol continuing to put handcuffs around your wrists. bounding you with your hands behind your back, his hands trying a blindfold over your eyes.
Bent over his desk, the scent of pure lust and anger in the air, only your uniform trousers on.
“Be quiet.” Sylus’ hands went to your curls before tugging on the roots, your head flying back. He enjoyed seeing you struggle to even see, asking him dumb questions.
“I tried to keep my cool, but it’s about time I get rid of that bratty attitude you’ve got” Sylus barked at you, his hands digging into your nape, his lips grazing your ear. “All you care about to pissing me off and making me worry about you. Even if it could cost you your fucking life.”
His hand pushed your head back down, forehead hitting the desk below you with a soft thud, “Ow! Sylus—“
“Don’t ‘ow’ me, you haven’t even felt a tenth of what I’m about to do to you.”
With nervous intent, your thighs clenched together, thinking about what he could do to you. Maybe lick your pussy clean, play around with your body, fuck you on this desk and then untie you? Finally??
His hand aggressively pulled your trousers down, exposing your lacey underwear. He quickly removes them fully before throwing it somewhere in the room. His hand latched onto your ass, spreading then open to see your cute little hole clench around nothing.
He spat directly onto your puckering hole, watching your body gently flinch due to the added wetness. Gently, Sylus pushed his thumb into your asshole, smirking when he heard you moan out.
He felt your walls cling to his thumb tightly before you whimpered out, “W-wait! Sy? Ngh!—“
Your soft, innocent voice was enough to make Sylus feel sympathy for you, his hand gently holding your tied up one, “Shh…I’ll be gentle,“
His thumb moved slightly deeper as you lost your arch slightly, “Ah! Sy! More!”
“I know you want more, sweetie.” Sylus cooed before taking his thumb out and gentle patting your cheeks, “That’s for another day.”
“N-no, no! I want more! Please? I-i’ll be good…please Sir!—Ah!” A small squeak escaped your lips as his thumb and index pinching your hard nipple, his other hand running up and down your back.
“I said no, kitten.” His lips gently caressed your nape before landing a soft kiss.
He removed his hands from your body before walking around the room to grab something — a gag? A paddle? Maybe some nipple clamps? Or maybe that butt plug he bought you?
Your head moves around yet not able to see anything, only thing you could understand what the sounds of clothes shuffling and a few sighs from Sylus.
Then you heard a snap!
You could hear him testing out the new implement in the air around him before it touched the back of your thighs — rich, thick leather which only sent shivers to your pussy.
“You feel this?” Sylus moved the belt down your thighs before using his knee to separate your legs, spitting your pussy drip with slickness. He tapped your pussy with the belt before snapping his hand, landing a solid thwack! to your clit.
“Ah!” slickness from your pussy moved from your folds to the belt before Sylus brought the leather up to his lips and licked it off, humming in satisfaction. “You taste divine, sweetie. If I could. I’d eat your cute little pussy for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”
“Open.” his hand gently tapped your inner thigh before you obeyed, opening them again. The cool air making you shiver, his body knelt to face your pussy.
“…Sylus..” you moaned, blindfolded but you could still feel his gaze on your skin, closing your legs with a small twitch.
Without any further thought, Sylus held your hand before gently guiding you over to the bed, carrying you in bridal style.
His hands gently placed you onto the soft cushions on your back, moving to the space below you. You tried to move— only to be dragged back and held firmly. Your soft thighs overflowing through the space between his fingers.
You felt a cold material be pressed against your core before squirming at the feeling of whether he held entering your pussy. Only a small amount before thrusting in and out of you, slowly but enough to make you tremble.
“Ah—Sy—What’s that? Fuck! Ohh it’s big..?!” your voice became higher as he continued to fuck you with what seemed to be a thick material.
“What’s what, sweetie? This?” he removed the object, holding it in the air.
The familiar sound of an empty magazine being removed entered your ears, his hand pulling the trigger yet nothing came out.
Sylus chuckled, “Is it clear now?”
With a small nod, you clenched at the thought — Sylus fucking you with his gun? The gun he’s been modifying for the last week onto? The gun that’s currently vibrating against your clit—“Ah!”
“Wondering why i was busy, I was making you a small present,” The vibrating sensation make you arch your back, loud moans escaping your voice. Your hands desperate to be released from their handcuffs.
“Sy!! Lower it!” You begged yet he didn’t do anything, only groaning at the sight of your pussy gently clenching around the edges of the gun, your legs speeding more and more. The pleasure was too much already, too many sensations and too much restriction. Your poor little brain couldn’t keep up.
His fingers pressed a button as the vibrations went faster, a loud moan echoed in his room. “I can’t—wait! ‘too much! ‘too much Sy!—“
“Too much? I’ll show you too much.”
The gun was removed before two hands flipped you over, placing you face down ass up with a sharp slap to your right cheek. Sylus groaned, lowering down to bite your flesh, accepting your squeals and cries. He popped off with chuckle, his deep laugh vibrating against your skin. He went to the other cheek, doing the same action before slapping the mark he made
A hand was placed at your lower back to press you down into a deeper arch. Hand still behind your back and a blindfold around your tearing up eyes.
“How many should I give you hm…” He pretended to think whilst tapping the thick tip of his cock onto your pussy.
“2..?” You suggested before wiggling your hips, feeling his hand dig into your ass more.
Sylus rubbed your cheeks, groping then every once in a while, “2 is nothing. You need something to learn properly.”
“…3?”
“How about, I give you as many as I can until your cute little legs—“ Sylus squeezed your thighs, “—shake? Deal?” His voice dropped an octave or two, his hands running up your back, worshipping the beautiful arch you presented him. You couldn’t even respond when he nodded, “Deal.”
“…wait wait wait, i didn’t agree to this—“
“Do I really have to say to again? We both know what you’re answering is but fine. I’ll give you as many orgasms as I can until you break. Deal?”
With a nervous tone, you nodded, “Deal…”
“Told you.”
His hips pressed against yours, his cock digging deep into your warm walls, both of you groaning at the intense feeling. His cock grew inside of you, pressing against yours g-spot just slightly. Sylus’s hands spewed your ass to see his cock form a white run of precum around his cock and your entrance.
His hands dig into the flesh of your as whilst you fought again the handcuffs. He felt too good, it was too hard to speak, to think. Sylus nearly let out a pathetic whine at the sheer feeling of you around him, winching and squeezing him for all he’s worth.
“Ah—alright, sweetie. Stop—squeezing me so hard!”
With a sorry voice, your head lifted, “M’sorrryy, it’s too good mhm..” your whimpers filled his ears, the urge to fuck you until you two broke his bed growing intensely. His cock grew inside of you, like even his dick couldn’t get used to it.
His hips started to move and, damn it, he did not slow down once — he slammed his hips into your backside, his cock ruthlessly destroying your cunt. The sounds of deep, fast thrusts filled the room, your moans being cut off by the impact alone.
“Ah ah ah! Oooh! Sy…Sy please slow down!” The handcuffs jiggled as they were held tightly by Sylus’s hands, keeping you still for him. Your body arched deeper as your ass shook.
“Take it—“ You couldn’t even recognise him anymore, that voice full of lust, love and worship, “Fucking take it. Don’t move, stay still for me…shit…you’re a good slut aren’t you?”
He lowered down to have his toned chest against your back, while he ruthlessly pounded into your pussy. His lips grazing your neck before sucking harshly on the skin. Licking, kissing and sucking on your brown skin, bringing his hips to a slow but deep pace as he did so.
He pulled of with a pop! before admiring the red mark, his smirk growing. Sylus moved to the other side of your nape, kissing and reassuring you. His voice sending an electrical wave straight to your pussy.
“…My good toy aren’t you…? My little bitch to mark—“ His sucked harder before nearly growling into your skin, “to claim,” he thrusted harder, reaching your cervix with a quick jolt, “to make mine.”
Sylus rose one more, his large hand landing a few slaps onto your right cheek in a rapid succession, gripping the flesh afterwards whilst watching it ripple due to his thrusts. “You’re my slut. Say it,”
“I-I’m your s-slut!” Smack! Smack!
“Fuck, Again.”
“I’m your slut!” Smack.
“Atta girl.” Sylus barked, his hands going straight to your hips and turning you around to lay you on your back. Without doubt, his hands went underneath your thighs and pushed them up to your breasts. Before it became too much, you felt the handcuffs disintegrate.
Your hands were finally free, but at what cost?
Sylus continued his rapid pace with no hesitation, seeing your hand instantly go to the bedsheets, then to your legs, and then to his back. “Mhm…use me sweetie, fuck you’re so beautiful…look at you.”
His thrusts were so deep, so powerful it could easily be felt in your lungs. You couldn’t breathe, there was too much. Too much to handle. His thick, long cock breaking you little by little and the sun had only just set now. Tears ran down your face as you moaned.
“So good!! Sooo goodd Sir! Thank you!! Thank youuuu!” his hands pushed your legs further, your body being bent in places you never thought it could be bent. Yet Sylus was here showing you how flexible you really are. His grunts only fuelled you to moan more, your sounds growing lowder and louder until he finally snapped.
“Fuck. You did this to yourself,” Sylus pulled out all the way, only the tip barely inside of the entrance to your cunt, his hips stilling for a few seconds before he pushed himself all in quickly. Your hand flew to his back again, scratching at his toned muscles with no doubt.
“Ahhh—ahh hah! Ooo! fuck—i can’t no more…no more it’s soo deep!!” your voice slowly quietened like it was too tired to beg. But really, if he slowed down, or stopped going so deep you’d be even angrier.
He continued to give you deadly thrusts, his cock twitching inside of you.
“I’m—I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum Sir!—“
Before you could even let out a full sentence, a hand slapped at your face hardly, your head jerking to the side. Your tears coming through the blindfold.
“Is that how you fucking ask? Again.” Sylus’s tone was firm, mean but it only made you moan more.
You whined before pouting, “I wanna cum tho! Please?!”
His hand — everything but gently — landed on your ass once more, the red marks stinging with every throb but the sting was so good.
“Time’s ticking, sweetie.” Sylus encouraged, feeling your brain become complete mush. “I won’t be doing shit until you speak up,”
“…please Sir? Can I c-cum p-please..?I’m a good girl now…I-I’ll be good! Please..?” Your begging skills could use some work but Sylus laughed anyway, his hand went around your throat before pressing slightly.
“No. You’ll have to wait.”
With a few more thrusts, you sobbed, not wanting to disobey him but it was too intense. Attempting again, your hands pulling him closer, your head on his shoulder as your cried out in pleasure.
His scent filled you a sense of comfort, your body relaxing a little but his hips never halted, making the pleasure more overwhelming.
“…pleas sir…i need to please—it’s too much..too much! it’s hurts…i need to—“
Despite Sylus being so dominant and rough with you now, he couldn’t resist you whenever you said it hurts, with a soft kiss to your hand, he sighed dramatically.
“You’re such a good girl now, my good girl. Cum for me baby, let go.”
With just another thrust, you screamed, that feeling in your stomach snapping as your cum coated his dick and his lower stomach, making his abs glisten. Your nails dug deep in his back, Sylus moaning at the feeling. The pain making him cum even faster.
“I’m cumming—“ Sylus groaned before staring at you, his hands still arising our throat, “take it, take it all, don’t waste it.”
Sylus thrusted once, twice, thrice before he dug himself deep into your pussy, he came with a few grunts, thick ropes of cum shooting up deep into your cunt. The amount of cum you both made spilling out a little drop by little.
Sylus’s fingers went to your clenching hole before scooping it up and putting it back inside. With the remaining coating of cum, he licked his fingers clean before taking your chin with his other hand, “Open.”
You opened your mouth before sucking on his fingers, your tongue swirling between his index and middle finger like a pro. He let go, and your mouth made a seductive pop!
“It’s still not enough.”
Sylus moved, laying on his back before moving you to sit with your back facing him, his hand went to yours. Big fingers wrapped around your wrists before massaging your wrist gently. His cock still inside of you, twitching to be used once again.
Your hands went onto his thighs before your back arched, feeling his abs tighten underneath your ass.
“Aah!…what are you?!-“ You yelped, feeling Sylus grab your hips before instantly moving you up and down on his dick again. Your body couldn’t even take it, your legs shaking and still. His hands slamming your body down like there was no tomorrow.
Sylus put his hands behind his head before watching you stabilise yourself and throw your ass back onto his dick. Landing with loud thwacks, Sylus watched your body rippled with every thrust, his hips thrusting upwards into your own cunt.
The sounds of sex was enough to make you work harder, sitting up and bouncing on his cock with the same pace he did to you just minutes ago. Sylus hissed before holding your hips, trying to slow you downs, “Fuck, your body is a killer, sweetie.”
You whined. “..Sy…”
“Mhm?”
“My thighs hurt…”
He sat up before thrusting upwards, “Let me help.”
His large hands landed on your hips, holding you still on his dick, your walls clenching around him for a second before relaxing. He thrusted upwards whilst grunt, leaving you no time to think about the pace or the feeling.
He continued to angle to hips to your g-spot, ramming it ruthlessly before using his hand to slap your ass when you covered your mouth. “Don’t hide f-from me—fuck…n-need-more…” Sylus kissed your back, moaning into your skin before grunting one last time.
Both of you came together, the sheets stained with the layers of cum that you both produced. The amount was too much for your already filled pussy, and you wanted all of it. Your walls clenched tightly around his dick, trying to stop the cum from leaking out.
Sylus hissed before whimpering, “Shit—! Why are y-you…squeezing me so t-tight?!”
“…Need to keep it in! I don’t wanna waste any!”
Your body collapsed forward, your head on the blanket that cover Sylus’s legs, your ass arched up in the air. Tired, fucked out was everything you felt like right now.
Sylus though? He was ready for a good 5 more rounds, his hands went to your hips before pulling you up to his face. His eyes watched your pussy as it was filled to the brim with both your and his cum.
He turned your around so you were sitting directly on top of his face, his ears could barely even register what you were saying, so pussydrunk he couldn’t even keep his thoughts to himself.
Your hands went to the headboard, putting a pillow there so you can put your head on it, “Sy?…W-what are you—“
His tongue sunk deep into your pussy, his face in there and his nose just touching your clit. The familiar bump in his nose rubbed against your clit, making you jolt slightly.
“Sylus!! Haven’t y-you gotten eno-ugh?!” Your voice was whiny, hands going to his hair, clenching onto it. Pulling whenever he sucked hard, watching his eyebrows furrow in pleasure.
His tongue sucked the cum out of your pussy before Sylus moaned, “Fuck baby, we taste beautifully together.”
As much as he wanted to continue, you were clearly overstimulated and sensitive. Every tiny lick making your stomach feel weak.
“Syyy…i can’t no more.” With one final lick, Sylus groaned before lowering you down, hugging your body. His hands running up and down your body with love. His lips kissing yours before pulling away quickly.
“Ah!—“ You jolted at his two fingers coating itself in your cum before licking them clean, moaning when your sweetness touches his tongue.
“Pussy too good, could’ve ate it since sunrise.” Sylus chucked before holding you to his chest, your legs on either side on his hips and your head in the crook of his neck, your arms around his waist. His arms wrapped around you both, hands gently rubbing the slight soreness on your backside from his ruthless spanks.
For a good few minutes, the two of you sat there, catching your breath and relaxing. The smell of lust still int he air yet your bodies were tired, your body marked up with Sylus’s red handprints, hickeys and stains.
“…Come on,” Sylus attempted to pull you off, only for you to cling on with a whine,“..Let me clean you up, sweetie.”
You whined again before he flicked your forehead. “I’ll be quick, up.”
Sylus got up from the bed, walking over to a small cute box that had aftercare products — soothing cream, scented oils, face towels, hair ties and tissues. A little thing he made after your first night together a while back.
Walking back, Sylus gently applied some of the cold soothing cram onto your backside, squeezing the product out onto each cheek. Hearing a whine, Sylus chuckled, “I know, I know…just a little more.”
His hands gently rubbed the cream into the redness of your skin, gently massaging the skin and occasionally pinching you to get a reaction. When you squirmed, he stopped for a second, rubbing your thighs with a chuckle, “Okay, I’ll stop teasing. Should we get into the bath—“
“No! In the morning..!” You argued, holding his hand to drag him into the bed, and he obliged — letting himself be pushed onto the bed and out back in their original position of you straddling his waist.
“..Are you sure? You want to keep it in that bad? If you wanted to be bred by me, you could just ask.”
“You’re not even dripping, so I guess we can stay. Are you okay though?”
…
“…Sweetie?”
…
“My love?”
….
He titled his head down to see your sleeping face, your chest rising and falling with a soft pace. Sylus gently placed your robe around your body before sighing, “Always out like a light after…”
With a kiss to your forehead, Sylus held you tighter and whispered, “Sweet dreams my love.”
@ 2025 aly4khq, do not copy, translate or repost on other platforms without permission + credit !
