Two artists for the price of one
The penthouse glowed with the soft amber light of the setting sun streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. Y/N shifted on the oversized leather couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she watched Rafayel dramatically flop into the adjacent armchair, his purple wavy hair falling across his forehead in an artful mess. Across from them, Sylus leaned against the bar counter, swirling whiskey in a crystal glass, his silver hair catching the dying light.
"You're brooding again," Rafayel accused, pointing a slender finger at Sylus. "It's ruining the vibe."
Sylus's red eyes flicked to the younger man. "I don't brood. I think. Something you should try."
"Excuse me? I think plenty. I think about art, about colors, about how you never replace the good whiskeyā"
"I replaced it last week."
"Then why does it taste like motor oil?"
"Maybe your palate is broken."
Y/N smiled to herself, used to their constant bickering. She'd been working with Rafayel as his bodyguard for months now, and through him, she'd gotten to know Sylusāthough exactly what their relationship was remained unclear. They circled each other like two predators who'd decided to share territory, alternating between sharp words and something that looked almost like affection.
"I'm just saying," Rafayel continued, throwing his hands up, "you could show a little more personality. Instead of standing there like some... some statue. A very expensive, very brooding statue."
"You're one to talk about personality." Sylus took a slow sip. "Your entire existence is performance art."
Y/N's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screenāa message from Thomas about tomorrow's gallery showing. When she looked up, she caught Sylus watching her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. His gaze moved slowly, deliberately, from her face down to where her blouse pulled slightly across her chest before snapping back to meet her eyes. She must have imagined it.
"Everything alright, sweetie?" Sylus asked, his voice low with that rough velvet quality that always made her feel warm.
"Just Thomas. He wants me to confirm the security details for tomorrow."
Rafayel groaned. "Thomas is a parasite. A well-organized parasite, but still."
The conversation drifted. Y/N found her attention wandering as the two men fell into a discussion about supply chains and protocoresāsomething about a shipment to the N109 zone. She studied them without meaning to, noticing how Sylus's large frame seemed to fill the space, how his muscular arms crossed over his chest made his black shirt stretch tight. And Rafayel, leaner but no less striking, gestured with those artist's hands, his pink-purple eyes bright with intelligence.
Two very different kinds of beautiful. The thought surfaced unbidden, and she pushed it down.
"I need a drink," she announced, standing. "Can I get anyone anything?"
"Sprites," Rafayel said immediately. "The blue ones. Not the green ones. Thomas bought the green ones last time and they taste like lies."
Sylus raised his glass. "I'm fine."
Y/N walked to the kitchen area, grateful for the excuse to move. Being around both of them at once always left her feeling off-balance, like standing between two magnetic fields. She opened the refrigerator, bending slightly to reach the lower shelf where Rafayel kept his obsessive collection of sodas.
The soft footsteps behind her didn't surprise her. What surprised her was how close they stoppedāclose enough that she could feel body heat against her back.
"Let me help," Sylus's voice came from directly above her head, his chest nearly brushing her shoulders. His arm reached past her, his hand closing around a blue can on a higher shelf. When he withdrew, his body pressed against her for just a momentāhard muscle and warm skin through thin fabric.
She spun around. He stood there, the can in his hand, his face impassive except for the slight curve at the corner of his mouth.
"You seemed to be struggling," he said.
"Mm." He held out the can. Their fingers brushed during the exchange. "My mistake."
He walked back to the living area without looking back, and Y/N stood there with her face burning and her pulse doing something complicated.
"Come sit, cutie," Rafayel called from the couch. He'd moved from his armchair to the center cushion of the sofa, leaving space on either side. "You're too far away."
She grabbed a water for herself and returned, choosing the spot beside him. He immediately leaned into her, his shoulder pressing against hers, his head tilting until his wavy hair tickled her jaw.
"You're warm." His voice came out soft, almost a whine. "I'm cold. This apartment is freezing. Sylus keeps it like a meat locker."
"It's seventy degrees," Sylus said, settling back into his armchair across from them.
"See? Meat locker temperatures. Absolutely barbaric."
Y/N laughed despite herself, relaxing as Rafayel's weight settled more firmly against her side. This wasn't unusualāhe'd always been touchy, always pressing close, always finding excuses for physical contact. She'd chalked it up to his dramatic personality.
But something felt different tonight.
Maybe it was the way his hand rested on her knee, his thumb tracing lazy circles against her jeans. Maybe it was how his fingers tightened briefly when she shifted. Maybe it was the way Sylus watched them from across the room, his gaze dark and unreadable.
"So," Rafayel said, his tone shifting, "we should talk about something."
"Should we?" Sylus's voice held a warning note.
"Yes. We definitely should. Right now. This very second."
"I'm sayingĀ somethingā"
Y/N looked between them, sensing some kind of subtext she couldn't decode. "Is everything okay?"
Rafayel sat up straight, his hand falling away from her knee. The loss of warmth felt like a wound. "Perfect. Everything's perfect. Sylus just doesn't want to have an important conversation that we definitely need to have."
Sylus stood abruptly, setting his glass on the bar with a sharp click. "I'm going to smoke."
He walked out onto the balcony, the glass door sliding shut behind him. Through the window, Y/N could see him standing at the railing, his broad back to them, shoulders tense.
"What was that about?" she asked.
Rafayel sighed, a dramatic, theatrical sound that somehow still seemed genuine. "He's being difficult. More difficult than usual, which is saying something."
The words landed like stones. "What about me?"
Rafayel turned to face her fully, his blue-pink eyes intense and serious. His fair skin flushed pink across his cheekbones, a rare sight.
"Y/N. You know we care about you, right?"
"Of course. You're my friends."
"Friends." He repeated the word like it tasted sour. "Yes. Friends. That's exactly what we are. Just... unusually devoted friends. Very devoted. Suspiciously devoted, according to certain people who shall remain nameless but whose name rhymes with... well, with his actual name, because Sylus is unique."
"Rafayel, you're not making sense."
"I know." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it more disheveled than before. "I know I'm not. Words are hard. Painting is easier. I should paint what I mean. But that would be weird, right? To just hand someone a painting that says 'hey, we've been in love with you for months, please date both of us simultaneously.'"
Y/N's brain stuttered to a halt. "What?"
"See? Words. Very difficult. I should have led with something else. Maybe flowers. Or a musical number." He laughed, high and nervous. "Or maybe I shouldn't have said anything at all, and we could have continued being 'devoted friends' until we died of romantic frustration."
"We like you," he blurted. "Both of us. Together. In the same way. At the same time." He winced. "That came out wrong. Or maybe right. I genuinely can't tell anymore."
The balcony door slid open. Sylus stepped back inside, his expression carefully neutral.
"She deserves to know." Rafayel's voice lacked its usual drama. "I'm tired of pretending."
Sylus walked to the couch, stopping in front of Y/N. He stood so tall from this angle, his frame massive, his presence overwhelming. But there was something careful in his postureāsomething uncertain.
"I didn't want to pressure you," he said quietly. "I thought... if you didn't feel the same, we could pretend this never happened."
The question hung in the air. Both men stared at herāRafayel with desperate hope, Sylus with restrained intensity.
"Then we figure it out," Sylus said. "If you want to."
Rafayel made a sound like a deflating balloon. "That's the idea, cutie. A package deal. Two artists for the price of one. I should warn you, thoughāI'm the more high-maintenance half."
"Debatable," Sylus murmured.
"Excuse me? Who spent three hours yesterday organizing his wrench collection by size and function?"
"Organization is a virtue."
"Organization is obsessive."
Y/N started laughing. The tension broke like a wave, leaving something softer in its wake. They were still themāstill bickering, still dramatic, still too much.
And somehow that made everything easier.
"I want this," she said, the words coming out steadier than expected. "I've wanted this. I thought I was going crazy."
Rafayel's face split into a brilliant smile. "Really?"
He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her in a crushing embrace. She laughed again, burying her face against his neck. He smelled like ocean salt and expensive paint.
But it was Sylus's touch that made her breath catchāhis large hand settling on the back of her neck, warm and grounding.
"Look at me," he said softly.
She lifted her head. Rafayel pulled back just enough to watch, his hands still resting on her waist.
Sylus bent down. His mouth met hers with careful pressureātesting, asking. She opened for him immediately, and he made a low sound in his throat, his hand sliding up to cup her jaw. The kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping past her lips, confident and claiming.
When he pulled back, her head spun.
"My turn," Rafayel said, tugging her attention back to him. His kiss was differentāplayful and teasing, his teeth catching her bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. He kissed like he painted, all passion and fire, leaving her wanting more.
They traded her back and forth, soft kisses that grew deeper, hands that grew bolder. Rafayel's fingers found the hem of her blouse, slipping beneath to trace the bare skin of her waist. Sylus moved behind her, his chest against her back, his mouth trailing down the curve of her neck.
"Bedroom," Sylus said against her skin. "Now."
They moved together through the penthouse, a tangle of limbs and urgent touches. By the time they reached Sylus's bedroom, Y/N's blouse lay somewhere on the hallway floor, and her bra hung loose around her shoulders.
The bed was massive, draped in dark sheets. Sylus guided her onto it, settling between her spread thighs while Rafayel stretched out beside her.
"Look at you," Rafayel breathed, his eyes fixed on her chest. His hand reached out, cupping one breast in his palm, testing its weight. "I've thought about this. About how you'd feel."
He squeezed gently, his thumb dragging across her nipple. The bud hardened, and Y/N arched into his touch.
"So sensitive," he murmured, leaning in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the swell of her breast. His tongue traced the edge of her areola before finallyāfinallyāwrapping his lips around her nipple.
She gasped. Rafayel sucked harder, his cheeks hollowing, while his free hand found her other breast and pinched.
Meanwhile, Sylus had worked her jeans open, tugging them down her thighs along with her underwear. The cool air hit her exposed pussy, and she clenched in anticipation.
"Gorgeous," Sylus said, his red eyes dark with want. He spread her folds with two fingers, examining her like she was something precious. "You're already so wet for us."
His thumb found her clit, pressing in slow circles. Y/N moaned, her hips lifting into his touch.
"She sounds pretty," Rafayel said against her breast, switching sides to give her other nipple equal attention. "Let's hear more."
Sylus lowered his head. The first stroke of his tongue along her slit made her cry out. He licked broad stripes, gathering her slick on his tongue, before focusing on her entrance.
"Fuck," she gasped. "Sylusā"
He pushed his tongue inside her, fucking her with it in slow, deliberate thrusts. Each movement sent sparks up her spine. His nose pressed against her clit, providing constant stimulation while his tongue worked her open.
Rafayel's teeth grazed her nipple at the same moment Sylus thrust particularly deep. Pleasure crashed over her in waves, building higher with each passing second.
"More," she begged. "Pleaseā"
Sylus pulled back just enough to speak. "Patience, sweetie. We're going to take our time."
He returned to her pussy with renewed focus, this time adding a finger alongside his tongue. The stretch made her gasp, her walls clenching around the intrusion.
Rafayel released her nipple with a wet pop, sitting back to watch Sylus work. "You look so pretty like this," he told Y/N, his voice thick. "All spread out and desperate."
"Rafayelā" she started, but whatever she meant to say dissolved into a moan as Sylus curled his finger inside her.
"Right here?" Sylus asked, pressing against a spot that made her vision blur. "Found it."
He rubbed that spot in firm circles while his tongue flicked rapidly over her clit. The dual sensation pushed her closer and closer to the edge.
"Come for us," Rafayel commanded, pinching her nipple hard. "Now."
Her orgasm crashed through her. She convulsed, her pussy clenching around Sylus's finger while she cried out. He worked her through it, drawing out every last aftershock with gentle licks.
When she finally stilled, both men were staring at her with barely contained hunger.
"Beautiful," Sylus said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Rafayel was already tugging off his shirt, his slender chest exposed. "My turn. I needāI've been waitingā"
He fumbled with his pants, finally freeing his cock. It jutted from his body, hard and flushed, beads of precum gathering at the tip.
Y/N's eyes widened. He was bigger than she'd imaginedāthick and long, with a slight curve that promised to hit interesting places.
"Like what you see, cutie?" Rafayel asked with a smirk, but his voice wavered.
She reached for him, but Sylus caught her wrist. "Let us. We want to make you feel good."
She watched as Sylus undressed, his muscular body revealed inch by inch. When he finally freed his cock, her mouth went dry. He was even larger than Rafayelāthick and veined, his size intimidating.
"We'll go slow," Sylus promised, noticing her expression. "We'll make it fit."
Rafayel positioned himself between her thighs, his cock nudging against her entrance. "Tell me if it's too much."
He pushed inside slowly, giving her time to adjust. The stretch burned in the best wayāhis thickness filling her completely.
He bottomed out and held still, his hips flush against hers. "Okay?"
He started moving, his rhythm slow and deep. Each thrust dragged against her walls, stimulating every nerve ending.
Sylus knelt beside her head, his cock jutting toward her mouth. "Open."
She did, letting him push inside. The weight of him on her tongue was intoxicatingāhis musk filling her senses as she hollowed her cheeks.
"Fuck," Sylus groaned. "Your mouth..."
Rafayel picked up speed, his thrusts growing harder. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by moans and gasps.
"You feel incredible," Rafayel panted. "So fucking tightālike you were made for me."
Sylus's hand tangled in her hair, guiding her movements. "Just like that, sweetie. You're doing so well."
Their praise washed over her, making her head spin. She felt worshippedāadoredātwo sets of hands and mouths claiming every part of her.
"I'm close," Rafayel warned, his rhythm becoming erratic.
"Me too," Sylus ground out.
"Inside," Y/N gasped around Sylus's cock. "Both of youāinsideā"
That was all the encouragement they needed. Rafayel thrust deep one final time, spilling inside her with a broken moan. Sylus followed moments later, his cum flooding her mouth in hot spurts.
They collapsed together on the bed, a tangle of sweaty limbs and racing hearts. Y/N lay between them, feeling thoroughly wrecked.
But apparently, they weren't done.
"My turn to taste her," Rafayel announced, already sliding down her body.
"Again and again," he promised, pressing a kiss to her still-sensitive clit. "Until you can't take anymore."
What followed was hours of pleasureāRafayel's talented tongue and Sylus's thick cock, sometimes together, sometimes taking turns. They pushed her to orgasm after orgasm until she lost count, until her body felt like liquid and her mind had gone blissfully blank.
By the time they finally let her rest, the sun had long since set. She lay boneless between them, covered in sweat and other fluids, hickeys scattered across her neck and chest.
"Look at you," Sylus said, a rare genuine smile softening his features. "Completely ruined."
Rafayel laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder. "You look perfect. Tired and perfect and ours."
"Ours," Y/N repeated, the word settling warm in her chest.
Both men pulled her closer, their bodies cocooning her in warmth and safety. For the first time in a long time, she felt completely, utterly content.
"Stay," Sylus murmured against her hair. "Stay with us."
"I'm not going anywhere," she replied.
Rafayel's arms tightened around her, and Sylus's hand found hers, their fingers intertwining.
Outside the windows, Linkon City glittered in the darkness, full of danger and uncertainty. But here, in this bed, with these two impossible menāY/N had never felt safer.
She closed her eyes, their heartbeats steady against her, and let herself drift.
Tomorrow would bring new challengesāmissions and Wanderers and the shadowy machinations of EVER. But tonight was theirs.
And tomorrow night, if she had anything to say about it, would be theirs too.