Genre: smut
TW: 18+ mdni
Characters: Zeno/fem!reader
Franchise: Resident Evil (9) Requiem
No beta. But I'd rather write something flawed than use AI.
Notes: ... I write this, actively having not played the game. So, if Zeno is out of character.. I apologize.
Also, in my headcanon, he's a classy mf that's a gentle dom, okay?
The elevator was a mirrored capsule that reflected her frame in fractured pieces. The slope of her shoulders, the curve of her hips, even the way her fingers trembled before she clenched them into fists. Zeno's gaze flicked upward as he watched the illuminated numbers climb. “Are you nervous, little raven?”
It made her exhale through her nose, her reflected gaze meeting his in the glass as the doors slid open with a mechanical-sounding whisper, revealing the jet-black marble expanse of tiling, the city below glittering through the floor-to-ceiling windows akin to spilled ink. The penthouse smelled of sandalwood and something faintly antiseptic. She made her way over to the grand piano stationed in the corner of the room and trailed her fingers along the polished surface of the fallboard. The moonlight cast her lithe frame in silver shadows, painting her in the image of vintage photographs. Timeless, a hint of surrealism.
With a painted black fingernail, she lifted the fallboard, revealing the keys beneath, and pressed it down on middle C. The note echoed against the high ceiling. "Out of tune,” she remarked. Zeno stepped closer, noting how her scent, a combination of the remnants of alcohol and something earthy, like petrichor after a storm, filled the space between them. The grand piano bench creaked as she leaned against it, fingers splayed across the polished wood. The taller man noticed the rapid flutter of her pulse at the very base of her throat, which sparked her to speak. “You’re not going to touch me.”
The corner of her mouth twitched when he didn’t respond. “You want to, but you won’t.” Zeno’s gloved fingers twitched, but he decided to lower his hand, taking a measured step back. The distance was sufficient to observe her reaction. “You’re testing me, doll,” He said, voice oddly calm despite his best attempt at masking the confusion present. “Why?”
“A man like yourself could have anyone..” She pushed off the grand piano and walked past him toward the window. “Why settle for less?” Silent footfalls indicated he had followed, his eyes finding hers in the reflection as his hands settled on her waist. She didn’t tense or pull away; instead, she exhaled, her shoulders relaxing into his touch. The warmth of his palms spreads to her pale skin. “Tell me to stop,” Zeno said, voice barely above a whisper, his mouth grazing the shell of her ear. “And I will, little raven.” She turned in his arms, her smaller palms pressed flat against his chest. The silk fabric was warm beneath her fingers. As he nestled his nose into her head of inky hair, his grip on her tightened.
The city lights blurred behind them, brush strokes of gold and navy. But his attention was fixed on the flutter of her long, dark lashes when his lips brushed the hollow of her throat. She arched into him when she sensed the graze of his teeth along her collarbone. Once more, the grand piano bench skittered across the tiled flooring as she was backed into it, the wood noticeably cool against her thighs.
Her polished fingernails tangled in his slicked-back silver locks, anchoring herself when his hands slithered underneath the fabric of her dress, his gloved thumbs caressing the undersides of her breasts. Zeno moved achingly slow, almost reverent. Undeniably expecting more hesitation, the tentative and clumsy touch of someone unaccustomed to these acts. Instead, her nails raked down the nape of his neck, caressing the short hairs at the base. He then pulled back, voicing a startled grunt. Her pale features were dusted in a hue of pink, the dark red lipstick smudged imperfectly. The taste of copper bloomed on his tongue. “You bite..”
He chuckled lowly, approvingly, tracing the inside of her small wrists with his lips. Where the skin was thinnest, where the proof of life pulsed against his tongue. The fall board slammed down when he lifted her onto the grand piano, sheets of music crumpling beneath her weight. The hem of her black dress rode higher up the plains of her leg, baring the pale skin that gleamed like marble under the moonlight. A gloved hand trailed upward, skimming the sensitive skin. Her breath stuttered, though she managed to school her expression. “Does it truly matter to you, darling?” He muttered when her fingers tightened in his hair.
The sharpness of the sting was enough to send a jolt down the length of his spine. A sensation so visceral that it caused his grip to tighten around her thigh. “Yes..” She confessed in a whisper. His gloved hand slithered higher, and the edge of her lace underwear caught on his thumb. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her thigh, the skin tasting of salt. “It is a foolish game to question desire, little one.” She arched off the piano with a gasp that dissolved into a silent moan when his fingers slipped beneath the lace. The sound was raw, imperfect, and it undid him more so than any practiced seduction ever could have.
A sheet of music slipped to the floor, the remaining pages following suit, fanning out in silence. Zeno drank in her reactions, the way her lips parted on a breath she couldn’t quite catch, the flutter of those long lashes when he pressed his finger deeper. Every movement was unguarded, beautifully human, and he committed each one to memory. “Ze..” Her voice smothered upon sensing the slow, deliberate circling of his gloved thumb. Her thighs clenched around his wrists upon instinct, the lace of her underwear soaked through. Zeno inhaled her scent, then rubbed his nose along the curve of her neck.
“What is it, darling?” Her words dissolved into water when he bent his fingers, her hips rolling helplessly against the invasion. The taller man could feel the exact moment her resolve shattered, signaled by the hitch in her breathing and the thoughtless manner in which she had dug her fingernails into his shoulder. Coming with a sound that bordered on a sob. Zeno hummed, satisfied, lifting her off the grand piano effortlessly, a small smile pulling on the corner of his lips when she wrapped her legs around his waist.
Cashmere sheets mirroring the darkness her wavy hair held, caressed bare skin as he lay her down, the darkness a stark contrast to her moonlit limbs. Her thin wrist lazily reached for his leather belt, and Zeno caught it, pinning it above her head on the bed. With his free hand, he had made quick work of the zipper on her dress, the fabric parting like tissue paper. The lace now bared matched the darkness of the sheets that surrounded her, but sheer enough for the dusky pink of her nipples pebbling to be visible.
He dragged a gloved thumb across one. He pulled the garment lower, revealing more of that skin untouched by sunlight. Pale as the moonlight illuminating her, save for a small scar present just above her hipbone. A jagged line of mixed hues of pink and white. He traced it with his tongue, relishing in the way her abdomen pulled taut. Her hand reached upward, and he leaned into her palm with his cheek, his hands moving skillfully, her underwear now strung between her knees. The scent of her arousal was heady, his grip tightening on her skin. The first lick drew a whimper from her throat, smothered entirely when Zeno pinned her hips to the mattress with a carefully placed hand as she attempted to grind against his mouth.
His gaze trailed upward when his tongue flicked over her clit, mapping how her brows knit together in pleasure, how the faintest sheen of sweat had built at her temples, how her hips twitched when he sucked gently, the whimpers as a result of two gloved fingers being slid inside. Her orgasm hit her like a shockwave, despite the short duration. Only faint traces of her lipstick remained, her hairline moist with her own sweat, causing some stray strands to stick to her forehead. Zeno tilted his head as he allowed her a moment to recover, tracing the inside of her pinned wrist. “Not yet, little raven.”
