⤷ My pronouns are she/her
⤷ I'm 27 years old and a Xavier main ★
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Fanfics
Fanfics are sorted by LI. For tags and CW, check the fic. Older stuff is probably not edited. Link in the title leads to AO3.
Ი︵𐑼 Xavier Ი︵𐑼
Roasted chestnuts - Rating E (old/not edited)
Fantastic - Rating E (old/not edited)
Quite alright - Rating M (old/not edited)
Bad bunny (tumblr) - Rating E
Sit (tumblr) - Rating E
Tropical Night (tumblr)- Rating E
Pretty (tumblr) - Rating E
NSFW Drabbles (all are rated E, posted as part of a collection)
Size Kink
Size Kink (again)
Breeding
Jealousy
Toys
Glowing (evol mishap)
Predator/prey
Bound/restraints
Fingering/Handjob
Dry humping
Sixty-nine (tumblr)
Going raw (tumblr)
SFW Drabbles
Grief/loss
Depression/needing help
ଳ Rafayel ଳ
Sketchbook (tumblr) - Rating E
NSFW Drabbles (all are rated E, posted as part of a collection)
Dry humping
Free use
Creampie (tumblr)
❅ Zayne ❅
Fall is not a warm season (tumblr) - Rating E
NSFW Drabbles (all are rated E, posted as part of a collection)
Cunnilingus
𓇢𓆸 Sylus 𓇢𓆸
Yes, kitten? - Rating E
NSFW Drabbles (all are rated E, posted as part of a collection)
Nose riding
✈︎ Caleb ✈︎
NSFW Drabbles (all are rated E, posted as part of a collection)
Pairing: Rafayel x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 4.2k
CW/Tags: Ebb Day; Mating Cycles/In Heat; Fluff and Smut; Vaginal Fingering; Reader is AFAB; Mentions of knotting; Mentions of Rafayel's merman form; this is NOT merman sex; Dirty Talk; Breeding Kink
Read on AO3
You wake up to soft humming.
‘Rafayel’, your brain supplies, struggling to leave the sweet state of unconsciousness that sleep often provides.
The humming turns softer when your head moves slightly. A gentle tune that reaches your ears so sweetly it almost lulls you right back into a nap. Somewhere, your brain registers something warm and damp being pressed on the underside of your thighs, silky fabric being gently dragged all the way down to your knees, then back up to the junction of your legs and pelvis. 'Rafayel', your brain tells you once more, and you're not sure if the reminder is meant to wake you or add to the lulling.
Sea-salt scent reaches your nose next, paired with the smell of fresh flowers, clean bedsheets and Rafayel's body wash. 'Rafayel', your brain reasons once more, this time awake enough to make your fingers twitch and weakly grab onto the bedsheets — undoubtedly looking for the owner of the name it had been calling.
A chuckle interrupts the humming, and your eyebrows draw closer together, lower lip jutting out. Why would the humming stop? Your eyes stay stubbornly closed, fighting their last battle against the land of dreams.
"-ayel…" Your voice sounds croaked to your own ears, contrasting with the melodic tune of another chuckle.
"Ra…" His voice reaches you, whispered low to your left.
"Ra…" You repeat after a second, lips moving slowly and more out of habit than out of a properly formed thought.
The hand that had been caressing your leg with the warm cloth leaves, and with it so does the pleasing sensation of the fabric. Before your frown can deepen, a finger reaches your temple, featherlight as it combs your hair behind your ear.
"Fa…" Comes his voice again, this time a little closer. A thumb brushes your face.
"Fa…"
"Yel…"
"… Fayel."
One more breathy chuckle and you feel his lips pressing right over the spot his finger had just been. "Close enough."
Still trapped in the land between dreams and reality, another kiss finds your temple. Then another, and then a third, a fourth…
Warm skin touching yours is enough to have your face releasing all of its tension, and, surely, at the same time a smile reaches your lips, the drowsiness of sleep starts to dissipate.
"Welcome back, cutie," Rafayel's whisper rumbles through you, still stationed to your left.
Your eyes open slowly, uncoordinated, closing a few times before finally focusing on blue and pink. Dark brown eyelashes. One… Two beauty marks. Pinkish lips that merge into unscarred, light skin. Blue and pink again.
"Rafayel…"
White teeth appear, mostly hidden behind lips that form half a smile. All pointy past the canines and slightly sharper today, of all days. "Yes," he whispers, letting the hand that had been brushing through your hair descend to warm your jaw. "That's me."
Blinking a few more times, your consciousness catches up to your body.
"Did I-" a yawn interrupts your question, "Did I sleep too much?"
"Two hours," he answers, index and thumb massaging your earlobe, "Two hours, three minutes and forty six seconds."
One more yawn forces your body into a stretch, muscles complaining after being bent this way and that way for so long.
"Is this the high again?" You ask, gaze panning over Rafayel's figure. He looks peaceful, propped up on his forearm, body still completely naked despite the gentle breeze that comes through the open windows. The sun setting outside casts a warm orange glow over his form, reflecting on the scales that are starting to resurface.
"Soon," he lets you know, thumb caressing your cheek. "The last one."
As if on cue, you start hearing waves reaching the sand that surrounds Rafayel's place. Cold, autumn water seeping back into the darkened sand. They are still not fully reaching the rocks that support the base of the house, but, indeed, they soon will be.
A high tide. The last one of the day.
Your legs twitch at the reminder of the reason your muscles felt so sore. It takes you a second to register the chilled remains of the warm water Rafayel had used to clean your body and an additional one to feel the soft linen sheet that had been placed above your feet. Just like Rafayel, you are still naked.
It's your turn to raise a hand and reach out for his cheek, "How are you feeling?"
"I should be the one asking that," Rafayel chuckles. "Everything alright?"
"Peachy," you mumble, feeling a newly resurfaced scale bumping against your thumb. Silently, you watch as his face slowly becomes adorned by them — aquamarine, then pink, dusted with yellow and green. True mother-of-pearl on the highest part of his cheekbones, under his eyes, and trailing down to his neck.
His skin grows hotter under your touch, dusted with a red hue that reaches his eyes. Like this, Rafayel becomes a canvas himself, mixing and matching natural colors that are not often found together. Each and every hue reflected by his scales and absorbed by his pupils, all at once.
By now, you know that the tide is rising faster, soon to be at its peak. It wouldn't be long until your lover ended up lost into the very essence of his nature, blinded and guided by the bond you both share.
The mark glows a steady pink on his chest, pulsing almost invisibly to the beat of his heart.
He interrupts your staring with a gentle pinch on your lower lip. "Food," Rafayel smiles, "It's time."
You frown, not at all excited at the prospect of food, despite having barely eaten through the day. "Have you eaten, Raf?"
"You know I don't eat," he chides, raising up and reaching back for what you can only guess is the food he mentioned. "Not until the end of this lunar day."
"Talia said you should."
Rafayel turns back to you with a plate in hand. On it are a variety of fruits, all carefully cut, and a few slices of bread, which you recognize as being the sourdough mixture both of you had baked yesterday.
"How about we not mention my aunt today, huh? Here, starfruit."
Still groggy from your nap, you abide, opening your mouth to let him place the fruit inside. Rafayel hums pleased as you chew, bringing slice after slice to your lips. It's only after half the plate is gone and at least one piece of bread is missing that he offers you some water.
The food, despite being light, is enough to make you more alert, and you find yourself sitting up on the bed to finish what he prepared.
Rafayel resumes his humming, probably content at watching you eat.
"Is it six, now?" You ask between bites.
"Seven," Rafayel answers, eyes focusing on the moon outside for a brief second, "A few minutes after seven."
You wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your fingers, "Oh."
Rafayel smiles, setting his gaze back on you. "Don't worry," he whispers, "The tide is still rising."
You can hear the underlying worry in his voice, that seed of fear he insists on watering every time an Equinox approaches. Despite your best efforts to reassure Rafayel of your choice, whenever daytime and nighttime decide to match durations, you know that his mind travels to horrible scenarios — of hurting you, ripping you, ending you. He confessed before that he fears losing control, fears succumbing to the power of countless posthumous gods that reside within him.
You are but a mere human, after all.
Sensing his worries, you leave the plate at the bedside table and reach for his cheek again, "I can see it."
And it's true that you can. As the tide rises, his body answers, reacting to the pull of the moon just like the waters of the ocean he came from. It culminates at the tide's highest peak, that one full hour of nature bared naked, in which he answers to you and you only, vulnerable to his own physiology.
Rafayel allows himself the comfort of your palm, rubbing his cheek against your skin for a few seconds. He looks up then, eyes darkened by his pupils, fractions of blue and dark pink reflecting the last few rays of sunshine as night fully overtakes the skies.
"Should I go wash up?" You offer, smiling softly at him, "There's only so much a warm cloth can do."
His eyebrows pinch together almost immediately, a pout making his lower lip jut out. Before you can even process the reaction, Rafayel is already pushing you down onto the sheets, arms holding your middle in a tight embrace. "You'd wash me away?" he grumbles, burying his face between your breasts. "No."
Laughing, you bring your hands to his hair. The strands are still slightly damp at the roots, proof of the intense exercise he had done just a few hours ago. "Weren't you cleaning me just now?"
"Out of politeness, cutie," he whines, rubbing his forehead on you, "We are not underwater, everything sticks to you."
You let out a chuckle, fingers threading through the short waves of his purple locks. "Alright," you concede, "Guess I'll stay here smelling like dried fish."
That makes him raise his head again, mouth open in disbelief, "Excuse me? I'll let you know you smell amazing."
You laugh harder at his offended tone. Truthfully, it was all meaningless banter since Rafayel had done a great job of cleaning you, just like he always did. Even your hair was combed and untangled. The only thing left in your body was your own skin and freckles, marked here and there by his demanding teeth.
Ebb day was meant for mating, after all. An event that occurred only twice a year for lemurians and that had to, at least once, bring forth a new generation. On an ordinary day Rafayel would already pump you too full, enough so you'd leak down your legs and his sheets. On ebb day? Everything was enhanced tenfold — from his stamina, to his senses and, surely, his load.
Speaking of load.
"Baby," you call out. Rafayel stops his rubbing against your chest to look up.
You bring your thumbs around to cup at his cheeks, assessing the state of your partner. You gaze pans over the scales, noticing how the skin surrounding them is a little bit irritated.
"Are you dehydrated? Should we move to the pool?"
A lazy smile reaches his lips, loop-sided and showing a bit more of his canines than he usually would, one of the many signs of the moon already affecting his behavior. "We agreed this would be a tame day, cutie."
Heat flows up to your cheeks, eyes widening just so. The audacity. "I offered in case you were thirsty. What are you even thinking about?"
Rafayel lessens his hold on you to brace himself against the sheets instead. Strong arms pull him up, now fully above you. "What I'm thinking about?", he whispers, face mere inches from yours, but still held by your hands, "You know damn well."
Moonlight reflects on the scales peppering his thigh, your gaze following the movement by instinct. Clucking, Rafayel fits a leg right between yours, solid muscle forcing your own legs a bit further apart. Being both entirely naked, the heat of his body quickly mingles with your own.
"As soon as we get in the water," Rafayel grunts and your attention snaps back to his face. "You know I'd have no choice but to fuck you properly. Make sure you are bearing my brood by the end of it."
Your face burns hotter at the lack of decorum in his words. A brief look at the glass ceiling of his bedroom lets you know the moon is rising higher in the sky, the remains of sunset already gone and hidden.
"But I can't," he continues, moving his head left and right to rub against your palms once more, "Not yet."
Rafayel sounds truly heartbroken, voice strained as if the mere thought of not fucking a baby in you was more devastating than any other. When he opens his eyes to look at you again, they are a shade darker, almost black from the sheer size of his pupils. You see yourself reflected in them, neck and shoulders marked so well no one would doubt what both of you had been doing earlier that day. The blush of your cheeks is also present, spreading to your ears and jaw by the second.
"But you can fuck me like this, still." Your voice finds you again, a whisper so strained one might wonder if you weren't falling into a rut of your own. "Maybe," you lick your lips, "If we try hard enough. Then this can suffice."
Rafayel moans, cheeks now burning a bright red, contrasting deeply against the delicate scales. "Yeah, maybe," his eyes dart around your face, tongue peeking out to wet his lower lip. "Are you hungry?"
"I wasn't hungry in the first place."
"Thirsty?"
"No."
"Tired?"
"Nope."
"Are you-"
"All yours," you finally interrupt him, "All yours to take."
Next thing you know, he's kissing you. Your lips clash as Rafayel pushes forward, arms bending at his elbows and leg curling up to hook under your own. You follow his rhythm, hands slipping easily to his nape, scratching all the way down his neck.
A gasp has your mouth opening for him and Rafayel is quick to take advantage of it. His tongue is warm, way too warm. Wet and slippery as it meets yours. His breath comes heavy, also unnaturally warm, but so sweet it makes your head spin.
You feel that giddy euphoria that comes with embracing Rafayel when he is like this — the lightheadedness from his scent, the overwhelming sensation of his body temperature adjusting to yours, the staggering desire that grows with each of his movements.
He is groaning into your mouth, throat working around pleas that don't quite come out. His body starts moving on its own, by instinct, if anything. Hips rolling and trembling above you, searching for one millimeter more of friction.
You grasp the short hair on his nape, pulling him back to take in breath fulls of air. "Raf..ayel…"
Whatever plan of talking to him properly comes to an end when your gazes meet. Rafayel is gone, eyes glazed over and wide. You find them so, so dark that you can't help but think of the deep-sea trenches he had shown you before.
"Please," he begs, voice dipping into such a sweet tone he's almost singing, "Please. I need you."
Despite the desperation in his tone, Rafayel doesn't fight the hand stopping him. He allows you to pull his neck as far back as you want. Mouth open in silent pants.
Obedient. Pliant. At least for now.
"Rafayel."
His hips twitch once, twice more above you, navel squished against yours. "Please," he repeats, "Need you."
Your belly clenches. There he is. The siren, the dangerously enchanting side of him you weren't privy to most days. Rafayel pleads again and again, words drenched with a honey-like texture. The more you look, the further you are drawn into that hazy head-space — by his voice, his flushed face, his eyes.
"I need you," he rolls his hips, and you feel his length, burning hot and leaking down your thigh. "Need you so much. Only you. All of you. Please"
Shivering, your hold on his hair weakens. Rafayel's neck falls forward almost pathetically, still held up by you, but much closer to your face.
"Yes," he whines, gaze traveling down to your mouth, "You will let me, right? Let me have you? Fuck you so, so well, cutie… Please."
Unconsciously, you nod.
Rafayel mimics the motion, nodding along with you, "Yeah? Fuck you nice and deep, please?"
The strength of your wrist vanishes, fully releasing his hair. Rafayel bobs forward, eyelids low and lips fitting right above yours, touching with each word, "Get you so full, so pretty, yeah? Can I?"
Staring deep into the abyss of his gaze, you let yourself fully succumb to him, "Yes."
"Yeah?" Rafayel whines, rolling his hips once more, but now with intent. "All mine," he tells you, kissing you right after, "My bride. My sweet, sweet girl."
Your arms fall back into the sheets with each new kiss, melting under his lips and praises. "So pretty," Rafayel takes the chance to spread your legs further apart, fully settling in between. "So sweet," he coos.
Absentmindedly, you hook your ankles behind his knees, legs dropping into the sheets to grant him as much space as he needs.
He keeps kissing you. Languidly savoring each whine he manages to push out of your throat. Rafayel doesn't stop even when his cock finds its way to your pubic bone, dragging lazy up and down patterns on your skin
You shiver at the contact. The dragging of his swollen head over you feels sensual, deeply intimate in the way it mimics what will happen once he's inside. But, more than that, it is enough friction for his cock to leak precum, heavy droplets of sticky, watery fluid pooling on your navel and running down your hips. It's way more than what any human would produce and it feels almost oily as it spreads down slowly, although constantly.
Rafayel adjusts his legs then, letting his cock bob down, it drags awkwardly along your pussy — not enough pressure for you to feel him, but a contact subtle enough to make you shiver.
"Raf-"
"Yeah. I got you…" he mumbles, changing his weight into only one arm and bringing his right hand down your body. "Got you."
His lips are back on yours as soon as he fists his length, using his thumb to properly push his tip down. "Here, right?" he asks, letting the warmth of his cock drag against you, from right above your clit, all the way down to your hole. "That's where I get to fuck you, yeah?"
Eyebrows pinched together, you look up at him. Rafayel's blush had deepened in color, the scales on his cheek glowing despite the lack of natural light. "Yes," you answer him, voice more strained than you thought it would be.
Kissing you again, he pushes his cock deeper, just enough to tease you open, to let you feel that delicious stretch around his head, then pulls back almost immediately. You cry out, but Rafayel swallows your whines as he keeps teasing your hole, pushing almost in, only to stop and back out. He gives you no time to breathe, tongue ravishing your mouth without a care
Your sounds turn desperate, head spinning at each 'almost' he lets you have. Arms flying out, your nails catch on his shoulders, bumping on the scattered scales and marking down the pale skin.
Rafayel lets go of your lips with a pop, sucking your lower lip until it stings. "You want me?" he mumbles, giving you another lopsided grin when you answer with fast nods, "Yeah? My cock? Yeah, yeah? Fuck, you're so pretty."
You follow his gaze as he looks down, watching the way the thick head of his cock barely disappears between your legs, only to come back still connected to you by a sling of your fluids.
Rafayel's hand slides down his shaft, two slender fingers coated in his precum pushing inside of you at once. Your mouth hangs at the intrusion, brain giddy at finally having something to stretch around.
"Poor thing," Rafayel whispers, scissoring his fingers as far as he can, "Look at you. You're gaping. So, so ready for me."
A weak sound leaves you at his words, hips twitching up in a search for more friction. Rafayel answers with a whine of his own, closing his fingers and curving them slightly.
"Please," your nails dig deeper into his shoulder, "Please, please, fuck me."
"Gonna fuck you, don't worry," Rafayel mumbles, head lolling to hide on your neck, his warm breath paired with the chilling coldness of his scales send goosebumps down your back. "Gonna fuck you so full… Mate so well… Until you're round with my brood."
Your eyes fall shut when he replaces his fingers with his cock, a blissful moan echoing alongside his words when you feel him finally pushing in enough to get inside.
Rafayel's teeth close around the slope of your neck, hand holding your hips steady as he takes his time bottoming out. He is mumbling something unintelligible against you, groaning at each inch he fits inside and your own brain is not that far off, dizzy at the sheer size of your boyfriend.
Once his balls touch your ass, he stops, releasing the skin of your neck at the same time a full shiver runs along his body. Dazed, you open your eyes to see the way his scales shimmer and rise, the same way the fine hair along your body would. The ones on his nape, back and legs reflect the moonlight above — absentmindedly, you note that the full moon is shining directly above both of your bodies, high in the sky.
"Hold on to me," Rafayel groans, releasing your waist to brace himself properly on the bed.
You let your arms slide further down his back, legs coming up to hook around his waist, and Rafayel wastes no time to start thrusting. One, two tentative rolls of his hips and then he is slamming down on you with all his weight.
Squished down on the bed, your body opens easily for him, bouncing up and down to his rhythm. Your eyes roll back, feeling each and every curve of his cock as it drags inside of you. Any word you try to force out turns into an incoherent whine.
"My bride… My pretty bride, fuck… Sweet girl," Rafayel buries his nose on your hair, whispering filthy praise right over your ear. "Perfect hole, made for me. Tiny, fuck, mortal body all mine to take. All mine to claim."
He keeps a maddening hard pace, fucking you deep with long strokes and letting his navel drag right over your clit each time. As if defying human nature, his body continues to produce more and more of his slick, mixing up with your own and creating a filthy mess of sounds. To anyone that didn't know better, he might as well have already filled you at least once.
With each passing second, Rafayel's breathing turns raggedier, scales flaring at a pace known only to him. His whines, pleas and praises are mumbled against your skull, body hot as it ruts above yours. You're not any better, ankles hooked around one another behind his back and nails carving red marks down his shoulders.
"Fu-ngh, Raf… Rafayel…"
He groans almost pathetically, "Keep saying my name… Fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. Dragging me in, cutie. Feels so good…"
Rafayel takes the chance to thrust in deep, then roll his hips, dragging the sensitive skin of your pussy in tiny, slow, circles. You take in a surprised gasp.
"Yeah, sweet thing, you like that-ah!"
Your body squeezes him tighter, clenching in sync with the rolls, and you can feel the weight of his length inside of you, warm and hard. A perfect fit.
He keeps humping against you, dragging his cock slowly back and forth. It's enough to make your thoughts grow fuzzier, focusing solely on the pleasure Rafayel was giving you. You feel your body grow warmer, wetter, as if inviting him further, silently asking him to give you more.
"Oh, good girl," Rafayel whines, "What I wouldn't give to knot you properly right now, claim you fully… Come on, keep feeling good. That's it, that's it."
Rafayel's voice brings you deeper, lulls you into a state of pure, unrestricted submission. His cock pushes further, as deep as he can get, and he starts fucking you in earnest again. You can't help but imagine it, his knot… The two cocks you knew he had hidden under that pretty, pretty tail. How he could stretch you insanely wide around them, hold and breed you properly…
"Fuck… Are you thinking about my knot too, baby? You're melting around me, feels so, so good… Yeah? That's a yes? Dirty little thing."
Rafayel bears down with more force, hips working to let him drag himself all the way in, pushing his cock against all those sweet spots he had mapped.
"What? Should I take you to the sea next time? Fuck you like you're meant to be fucked? Bully this sweet pussy until it lets me fuck my knot inside? You want to be bred, pretty?"
Your head bobs up and down in what you hope he recognizes is a yes, throat struggling to let out anything that is not a whine.
"Are you gonna cum for me, cutie? Please, show me. Show me and then I will think about knocking you up next time, yeah?"
Your mind blanks, hanging to his words like they are your lifeline. Rafayel keeps that same pace, spewing filth and delirious nonsense into your ear, dragging you as far as he can down that sweet ecstasy of his rut.
You come. Once, twice, three times… Eventually, you don't have the mind to keep counting, body succumbing to the highest tide of that day, drowning in the turbulent sea of Rafayel's true nature.
Pairing: Xavier x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 2.1k
CW/Tags: Fluff; Pampering; Bathing/Washing; Bath Sex; Masturbation; Fingering; Teasing; very little plot
Read on AO3
A warm hug receives you home.
Xavier’s smell engulfs you as soon as you step inside. With him, comes the gentle scent of the fabric softener you both shared, as well as the remaining sweetness of a cake he told you he had ordered.
“Welcome home, love.”
The first real smile of the day reaches your lips. That’s the voice you’d been wanting to hear. Low, clear. Pleasant.
“I’m home,” you whisper back, face hidden under his jaw. Your head is still buzzing from work, thoughts running at an unhealthy speed.
“Long day?” Xavier asks. And he knows the answer to that question, he had been the one receiving message after message with your creative nicknames to all the higher-ups that had crowded the Association’s conference room during the day.
Still, he waits for your answer. Lowering his head to nuzzle yours and allowing his hands to rub soothing circles on your back.
“Yes,” you answer with a sigh, shoulders dropping at the mere thought of the day you’d just had.
Xavier hums, moving to support you as you toe off your shoes. You can’t help but wince once the black heels drop to the floor, wondering, silently, if you still had band-aids at home.
“Well…” He starts, leading you further down the hallway, “I ordered us dinner. And I’ve also restocked the scented oils in the bathroom.”
“How well prepared,” you tease, leaving your duffle bag at one of the hooks Xavier had installed near the living room. Hearing his chuckle, you ponder your options for a second, before setting your eyes on the bathroom door. “To be honest… A bath sounds perfect.”
“Great,” Xavier whispers against your hair, lips pressing a gentle peck near your forehead. “Would you mind if I join?”
“Not at all,” you giggle, letting his arms surround you once more. Xavier feels safe. Like a warm cup of hot chocolate during winter, and fuzzy socks in autumn. His mere presence slows your thoughts to a more reasonable hum.
As if sensing your contentment, Xavier pulls you into a back hug, waddling the final steps to the bathroom.
“That’s good,” he breathes, squeezing you for a second longer before moving to open the door, “I have a secret technique that will help you recharge.”
“Oh?”
You step inside the bathroom, unbuttoning your blazer while Xavier occupies himself with filling the bathtub. You get down to your underwear before he turns around again, and you find his gaze through the mirror, eyes panning over the satisfied smile on his face as the smell of almond reaches your nose.
‘That’s the bath oil I wanted to try,’ you note, matching his smile with one of your own.
Right as you start trying to unclasp your bra, Xavier reaches for you again. His fingers gently pry yours away, and he helps you get rid of the undergarment.
A relieved sigh leaves your lips at the lack of pressure around your ribcage, soon followed by another encouraging noise as Xavier’s warm hands rub at the red dents left on your skin.
“Better?” He whispers, letting his thumbs press down on your spine.
You hum an affirmative, closing your eyes to properly enjoy the way he works around a few knots on your back. Xavier chuckles, keeping the movements for a few more seconds. Right when you start considering skipping the bath and asking for a massage instead, his hands move to hold your waist. Gently, he helps you sit down on one of the stools close to the sink.
“Lets take your make-up off,” Xavier whispers. “You told me it’s bad to wash it away.”
“Yeah,” you nod, still smiling softly at the pampering you’d been receiving. Looking at the counter, you check where your cleansing oil is, “It’s…”
“The opaque, beige one,” he finishes the sentence for you, reaching out for that exact bottle on the counter, “And I should use one cotton pad to take off the excess and then another for whatever is left.”
“Someone’s an expert,” you giggle. Still smiling, you close your eyes and bend your neck to give him full access to your face.
Xavier is gentle as he removes your make-up, pressing the cotton pad so softly you barely register the way it brushes against your skin. He takes extra care around your eyes, blowing softly when a strand of cotton catches on your eyelashes – then bringing his finger to aid on its removal after it stubbornly sticks on your cheek.
You can’t help but laugh as he pats down your face, then your neck, blushing as you fully take in the scene unfolding. Here you are, in a warm, slightly damp bathroom, wearing nothing but your panties, after a hellish day at work, and letting your partner in life figure out how to properly use a make-up remover.
“There we go,” he chuckles, “I think it’s done.”
You open one eye to stare at him, eyebrows raising in question, before looking at yourself in the mirror.
“Oh, good job,” you lean in. “You got it all.”
Through the mirror, you see a proud smile on Xavier’s face, the top of his ears reddening just so. Affection surges through you at the sight, heart speeding up and lips curving up into a smile that matches his own.
Before you give in to the desire of squishing his face into nothingness, you get up and leave a soft peck on his cheek, “Thank you.”
Another chuckle reaches your ears, and you hear the rustle of fabric as Xavier makes quick work of his own clothes. “Let’s shower fast,” he says, “The bath is almost full.”
_____
True to his word, Xavier is precise as he scrubs you down, coating your body with a foamy soap that has the same milky scent you’ve come to associate with him. His own body follows, and then he’s lifting you up on his arms.
“Xavier!” But the protest is very weak. The more he pampers you, the more you fall into a light, lazy, mindset.
It’s only when you are sitting down on the tub, back propped against Xavier’s chest and having his hands pressing firm, but gentle, circles down your arms and legs that you realize you had barely done anything by yourself after getting home.
“Thank you,” you whisper, bending your neck to nuzzle him once more. “This feels good. My mind has slowed down as well.”
You feel more than hear his hum, and Xavier kisses the top of your head again, “Sorry I couldn’t be there to help today.”
“Don’t say ‘sorry’, it’s part of my job anyway… I just wish they had fixed the date for the conference sooner. Doing everything at the last minute is too much.”
“Yeah,” water sloshes around as Xavier brings his arms to your back, working on the tense muscles of your shoulder and neck. “But… Your hard work was recognized. Someone told me you impressed the old guys.”
“Oh?”
Xavier chuckles, “Jenna messaged the team. You also won a few resting days.”
A happy sigh leaves you, both from the news of getting some free days, but also from the pressure of Xavier’s thumbs over a specific spot on your neck.
Comfortable silence follows, interrupted only by your low noises at Xavier’s ministrations. He brings both of his hands around your neck, thumbs pressing on the highest part of your nape. The position forces your head down, the palms of his hands completely enveloping your neck, and his fingers supporting your chin.
Despite the lack of any sexual intent on his part, you can’t stop the shiver that runs down your spine. It had been a long day.
Xavier notices the way your back curves and stops. “Hurts?”
“No,” you whisper, bringing your own hands out of the warm water and reaching for his forearm. “Xavie?”
“Yes, my love?” He releases your neck, but before he can pull his fingers away, you close a hand near his elbow, leaning back against his chest.
“Are you very tired?”
“Not tired,” he answers, letting his knuckles caress your jaw, “Why?”
You pull on the arm you are holding, leading his hand to your collarbone. “Could you help me, then?”
Like a tiny spark in a gas filled room, the air changes as soon as he understands what you mean. Always so observant, Xavier is quick to map any changes in your body language, and this time you are not trying to hide anything.
“Gladly,” he tells you, voice slightly lower than before.
The hand at your collarbone travels further, nails teasing the skin of your chest and encouraging you to relax further into his embrace. His other hand finds your waist, encompassing it softly before travelling up.
Xavier’s mouth finds your neck right as his hands cup your breasts, thumb and forefinger kneading the supple skin. He creates an almost immediate rhythm, well-practiced after so many nights together, nibbling and sucking at your throat, while teasing your reddening nipples.
You let yourself get lost on his hands, the distraction welcoming after being so uptight the entire day. Teeth. Tongue. Heat. The familiarity of being held so gently by someone you loved.
He works you into a sensitive stage, thighs closing and rubbing together to appease the growing need inside.
“So pretty,” Xavier whispers, breath fanning right under your ear, “Look, you relax so easily for me.”
And it’s true. Your body is quick to answer to his touch, even more so after you ask for it so directly.
Once more, you pull on the forearm you are still holding, “Xavie…”
“What is it, love?”
“More,” you groan, back curving against him. Xavier’s cock sits hard and heavy on your back, but before that you need…
“Use your words, come on. You’re bolder than that.”
Squeezing your thighs once more, it’s your turn to bend your neck and find his ear. “Help me, Xavie. I want to come.”
He chuckles, but the sound is more predatory than amused. “Yes, princess.”
His right hand travels further down, fingers sprawled against your skin until they reach the tight press of your legs. “Relax,” Xavier instructs. “Good girl.”
A tiny sound leaves you when his hand cups your sex. A possessive gesture that he maintains for a brief second, before using his index and ring finger to spread you open.
You squirm at the feeling of the warm water hitting you directly, but Xavier gives you no time to complain. His middle finger presses down on the skin right above your clit, then drags all the way to your hole, ripping out your first proper moan of the day. He stays there for a second, probably feeling you flutter under him, then drags the digit back up.
“You are so close already,” Xavier whispers, gently biting down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, “Do you like my hands that much?”
“Yeah,” you nod against him, feeling light headed already. He rewards you with one more tug at your nipple and a shudder of his own.
“Let’s take the edge off, then.”
The hand holding your lips open moves, and Xavier brings his ring finger to settle beside the middle one. With no warning, he starts circling your clit, dragging the pads of both fingers right underneath the hood.
You jerk at the sudden sensation, both hands reaching for his arm, “X-Xavi–”
“Shh,” he shushes you, holding you closer to his chest, “Just relax and feel good, come on.”
Despite the way your body twitches, he keeps a constant pace, very similar to the one you choose when he asks you to touch yourself. His fingers drag the skin of your cunt, barely brushing against your clit, but pressing down enough for you to feel their entire path.
“Ah! Hah–ngh,” you feel yourself getting lost in the sensation, hole twitching around nothing and breath coming in uncoordinated puffs. Xavier’s fingers paired with the soft moans he’s grunting into your ear bring you that much closer to the edge.
“That’s it, that’s it… Let me take care of you, love.”
What feels like the fastest orgasm you have ever had comes crashing into you. All the tension from such a stressful day turns into warm pleasure and soft mewls, spreading from your belly down to your legs and numbing your overworked mind.
His fingers only stop moving after you turn boneless in his hold, and Xavier makes sure to catch you properly before you slide down into the water. With a soft smile, you register his chuckle, “Let’s get you to bed.”
Ი︵𐑼 ... Thinking about early relationship XAVMC finding excuses to see each other...
Pairing: Xavier x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 1k
CW/Tags: short drabble; cunnilingus; dirty talk; plot what plot
Read on X
The first time was when you both had returned from a last minute mission.
Jenna had said it would be an easy stolen-protocore recovery, and, undoubtedly, it was. Except… Well, your toilet. It had been having some issues. Modern plumbing, really, not trustworthy at all.
So, of course, you had to try your luck and kindly ask Xavier, your mission partner and neighbor – nothing else – to help. And if that did end up with you on your knees, fitting Xavier’s cock as deep inside your throat as you could… Well, that’s just a coincidence.
The second time was when Jenna sent both of you on a three-day mission to dismantle a protocore gambling ring. Three days glued to Xavier, side by side. With no one else to talk to. Hearing his whispered voice rumbling through your earpiece and failing to not squeeze your legs together at the memory of how much rougher he could sound after cumming.
Which, for sure, justifies the way your fridge had been acting up right after the mission, leaving Xavier with no choice but to fuck you through your mattress until morning – coincidently right when the appliance started working again. Entirely justifiable.
The third time was happening right now.
See, outside of those… Exceptional situations, you and Xavier were at that very awkward phase in your relationship where something was in the air – what, though, neither could exactly define. Glances being exchanged for a second longer than needed, fingers brushing accidentally as you walked side by side and desire, heavy in each silence.
And it was this desire, unspoken, but constant, that justified each unusual encounter.
This time, both of you had gone undercover to a fancy masquerade to gather information. Long dresses, well-fit suits, hair gel and expensive perfume – all which seemed to pair so well with Xavier that your memories of the night consisted solely of blue eyes and rosy lips. Whatever information he had gathered would be put in the report, but, in all honesty, with the way he had been gripping his handkerchief on the ride home, you’d be willing to bet he hadn’t concentrated much either.
Before entering your apartment complex, Xavier tells you his television is not working properly. Something about ‘newer technology’ and how you were ‘better at fixing that’.
So, with shaky hands and a blush high on your cheeks, you kindly accept the request for help, heading up to his place instead of your own, still wearing the same long red dress the Association had provided you with.
“Xa-ah!”
He is nose deep into your cunt. Xavier had dropped to his knees as soon as you sat down on his couch, lifting the velvety fabric of your dress so fast you barely had any time to process what he was doing before his lips were on the hem of your panties.
And now, maybe thirty or so minutes after that, your feet still bob up and down each time he presses you further into the couch, with one of his hands keeping your legs open wide around his face while he eats you like it's his last meal on earth.
Xavier hums an affirmative into you, probably an attempt at answering your cries of his name, but the rumble only makes you clench around the tongue he insists on dipping inside.
“Xav–Xavier…” You release one of the cushions to close your fingers around his grey strands. “Take you t-tongue out, it’s–”
“Not good?” Xavier mumbles, tongue still sticking out as blue eyes find yours from between your legs.
“Embarassing,” you correct him with a groan.
He has the audacity to give you a chuckle as an answer, and your whole body twitches when he moves to suck gently on the skin right above your clit instead. Xavier brings his thumb to caress the wetness of your pussy, spreading the slick from your hole all the way up to where his tongue traces soft circles.
“You… Have to help me,” he stops his ministrations to look at you again, eyebrows coming together to create the puppy-stare you had become all too familiar with. “Tell me what feels best. I’m a quick learner.”
Somehow, you blush harder, “I…”
He smiles, a lazy, barely there stretch of his lips, but his fake nonchalance is not enough to stop you from noticing the color on his own cheeks.
“How would I know?” You ruff, bringing your other hand to also settle on his head. Releasing your grip, you let your fingers rub at his scalp. “Your lips feel good,” your gaze falls on the red tint his mouth has gained, “Your tongue too…”
Xavier hums again, looking down at where his thumb is teasing your entrance. When he looks back up, his pupils are blown so wide you can barely see the blue. “And here?” He asks, letting the digit press softly into you.
“‘s also good…”
“But you like it a bit deeper, right?” Xavier replaces his thumb with his fore and middle finger, letting them slowly dip into you, “If I remember correctly it was… Around here?”
You can’t help the tiny noise that leaves you when he curves his fingers up, pushing them right against that spongy spot you could barely reach. The fingers threading through his hair close again, unconsciously pulling his face back towards you.
Xavier’s breathing grows heavier as he brings his mouth to your clit, letting his lips tease the nub before sucking it into his mouth. Your own breathing is not far behind, coming in quicker puffs as he keeps rubbing that same spot inside without pulling his fingers out.
All the teasing he had been doing for the last half hour comes crashing back at you, body reacting fast to the way he had suddenly doubled down on you. “Xa-Xavier!”
His gaze locks into yours, and the sight of his pretty lips closed around your cunt makes you contract around his fingers. Xavier nods, still mouthing at your clit, flushed face framed by your thighs.
You pull on his hair, failing to control the way your hips start moving against him. “Fuck… Fuck.”
Xavier moans against you, nodding one more time, mouth too full to answer your pleas. With one more generous suck, he lets up to lay his tongue flat over you – and that does it.
You come around his fingers with a sinful moan, vision blacking out for a brief second as your body twitches.
“Good job,” you hear his voice, mind too hazy to react properly, “Good girl.”
Pairing: Xavier x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 1.5k
CW/Tags: dry humping; intimacy; dirty talk; nipple play; coming in pants; plot what plot
Read on AO3
Xavier has a specific effect on you.
You became aware of it right after you both completed two months of going out. At that time, he hadn’t even properly asked you to be his girlfriend, and, yet, you’d feel a growing buzz whenever he stayed away for too long. As if your own evol was reacting to the lack of his presence, the lack of his light, and deciding it might as well just punish you instead.
And the “too long” part was also a variable. At first, “too long” meant a bit more than a week – achieved whenever he went out for one of his ‘secret missions’. Then, “too long” became three days, and now, “too long” is something closer to twenty-four hours.
Which, in your head and by your own selfish logic, justifies the way you are kissing him like he’s your lifeline.
“Xavi-nhg–,” you try calling out to him, but he’s sucking on your bottom lip again, pulling the skin so gently in between his own, that you don’t even mind the sting of his teeth when he bites down.
That was probably the only word you had tried to speak in the last hour. Straddling him on his bed, letting him claim your mouth as languidly and lovingly as he wanted, there really wasn’t much reason to talk.
Xavier kisses you slowly, gently at times and feverishly at others, but keeping the same unhurried pace. The way his lips mold against yours feels almost like a silent prayer, or blessing, being whispered down your throat, time and time again. Spit announces each parting and joining with sounds – wet, moist – paired with meek, whiny breaths that fill the entire room.
Everything feels enhanced, from his hair brushing against your temple, to the pressure of the tip of his nose against your cheeks, down to his hands, never-ceasing on their exploration. This kissing session has been going on for so long that you were sensitive even to the slight brush of his hoodie on your belly and, by now, your brain was threatening to just turn off completely and let him reel you in whatever direction he might want.
“Xa–,” you try again, only to be interrupted by another kiss. With a moan of his own, Xavier’s tongue fits right into your mouth, caressing yours so softly it makes the little hairs on your nape rise.
You answer him with more muffled whines and tentative reciprocity of your tongue, which only stir Xavier on further. You feel the warmth of his palm on your waist, then on your back, fingers lightly teaching the seam of your blouse until they reach under your arm. Xavier’s hand sprawls on your back, pulling you to him.
Xavier is hard under you, has been for a long while. The heat of his length is covered by malleable cotton and pressing right into the junction of your leg and hips, providing a soft, rounded surface for you to work yourself against. And so far, whether consciously or unconsciously you didn’t know, you had been doing exactly that.
At one more roll of your waist over him, Xavier lets go of your lips with a wet pop, nuzzling your face instead, nose and cheeks pressing against yours. His breathing is ragged, strangled from both the kissing and your actions.
“Xavie,” you finally whisper, feeling his breath fan softly against your ear.
“Yes, my love?” Comes his answer, whispered to the slope of your neck. The hand at your back pulls you further in, silently asking you to keep the gentle rolls, while his other hand squeezes your waist, fingers digging into soft flesh.
“I missed you.”
“Yes,” Xavier agrees, lips pressing against your skin, he lets his mouth wander around the expanse of your throat for a second before continuing, “I missed you too.”
With a shiver, you feel teeth nibbling at the same spot he had just been kissing, then the warmth of his tongue to soothe it.
“Missed you more,” you whisper, curving your back into his arms and letting the slope of his cock fully rest under the seam of your pants.
Xavier gives you a small chuckle, right before his hands press you closer to him. His face comes up to meet yours again, kissing your jaw before finding your lips once more.
“I… Think… That’s debatable,” he tells you between kisses, barely pulling away before diving back for one more peck. You pair each kiss of his with another roll of your waist, grinding down into Xavier as best as you can through your clothes.
“Mhmm–,” you mumble, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, “Take this off.”
“Help me.”
So you do. The hands that had been around his neck come down to slip under the hem, meeting warm, firm skin that tightens under the pressure of your fingers. You let yourself enjoy the shape of his belly and chest, blushing slightly at the tiny chuckle Xavier lets out, before pulling the fabric completely off.
With your hands still held high, you hear Xavier whispering a low, “Your turn,” quickly followed by the warmth of his hands reaching under your shirt. Within seconds, you’re both pressed chest to chest.
Bringing his hands back to your waist, Xavier holds your gaze before slowly dropping his head, letting his mouth suck small marks around your collarbone. His lashes flutter softly when his lips find the swell of your breasts and you can’t stop the small whine that leaves you at the caress.
“Xavie,” your hands reach for his head, fingers tangling in grey strands, “Xavier.”
He hums an affirmative against your skin, tongue working a nipple into his mouth. “Xa-ah!”
That buzz inside of you turns into a low flame, a soft burn that reveals just how much your body is now conditioned to his – his touch, his smell, his voice. Xavier’s teeth tug gently at your chest and your mind willingly numbs itself, caring solely about the spots where your bodies touch.
Both of his hands come up to cup your breasts, massaging the skin and working together with his mouth to allow him to suck the nubs into a red, sensitive shade.
“Not just there,” you whine, twitching on his lap when you feel the middle of his tongue rubbing over a nipple.
With one more chuckle, Xavier releases your chest to wrap his arm around your middle, pulling you down into the bed. He keeps you straddled over him, still mouthing at any available skin as he pulls your pants over the swell of your ass. Cold air hits the drenched fabric of your panties, but Xavier is quick to pull you back over his crotch. “Let’s take the edge off,” he mumbles, “Grind on me.”
His hands sprawl over your ass, squeezing randomly at the supple flesh. Below you, his mouth finds your lips, then your chin and jaw, peppering kisses over the blush that is spreading down your face and chest. And, slowly, both of you start moving together.
Following Xavier’s hands guidance, your legs spread around him to give you even more room. “That’s it,” his low moan reaches your ears when you drag your clothed clit over his length, “I missed you.”
You angle your hips perfectly, familiar with the body under yours, letting that tiny flame inside your chest expand. This time, it’s your turn to reach for him, “Missed you,” you repeat, lips moving against his open mouth.
Xavier's warm breath mingles with yours, and you feel his cock twitch. “One more time,” he begs, hands groping your skin with more strength, pulling the flesh to guide you faster over him.
“Missed you.”
“Again.”
“Miss–nhg, missed you, missed you so much…”
You hear the shuffling of fabric as Xavier plants his feet on the bed, pushing you into his cock at the same time he starts thrusting up. “I missed you too, missed you starlight.”
It’s heaven. Heaven and hell, mixed together. You can feel yourself drip down your panties, surely staining his grey sweaters, and your brain is begging you for something to close around – his cock, his fingers, his tongue.
“Xavier… Xavier.”
“Yes. Yes, come on,” he breathes, voice strained. “So pretty, the prettiest…” Xavier’s hold on your ass tightens, and he pulls you more forcefully into him, making sure to drag his cock over the entire expense of your cunt.
“Need you… To cum with my name on your mouth, yes?”
You nod, eyes rolling back at the feeling of wet cloth against wet cloth. Without thinking, your arms support you as you curve your spine, bouncing down to meet each of his thrusts.
It’s pathetic, really, the way you are both coming undone from this – with three layers of fabric in the way. But it’s good, it feels good, it soothes that buzz inside of you that was begging him to come home soon, to have him around you, to see his smile, the glint of his eyes, the…
“Xavie–”
His hands pull you harder, spreading the skin of your ass, fingers coming dangerously close to your hole, “I’m here.”
One more pull and your brain short-circuits, tiny stars flying around your closed eyelids and hips twitching so wildly on his grasp that Xavier has no choice but to hold them down. “Fuck,” Xavier groans, fitting the soaked outline of his cock in between the soaked crease of your panties, “Can’t wait to be inside you.”
Ი︵𐑼 ... Thinking about being bound together with Xavier during a mission
Pairing: Xavier x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 1.4k
CW/Tags: bounds and restraints; stuck together; awkward situations; dry humping; coming in pants; plot what plot
Read on AO3
It's an awkward situation. Truly.
This mission was supposed to be quick, easy.
Get inside the cave, find the grade S protocore, beat up some Wanderers, leave.
Xavier and you had gotten inside the cave and the S grade protocore was safely tucked inside his pocket. The Wanderers, however…
"I didn't know Wanderers could transform into vines," you mumble, face forcefully pressed against Xavier's chest.
"I… Don't think they transformed," he whispers, breath fanning against the crown of your head, "I think they are the vines."
You sigh, "Same thing."
The muscles on your calves contract, instinct telling you to fight off the vines that had wrapped themselves around your body. But you can't.
It had taken you a few seconds of panicked resistance after they had started sprouting from the floor and crawling up you body for you to learn that they'd only grow thicker the more you fought against them.
Staying still and evening your breathing seemed to be the only way for them to, slowly, but steadily shrink away.
And you would have stayed still and waited patiently for them to diminish, had they not glued you to your mission partner.
Right now, with your legs spread around Xavier’s, knees and calves forcefully bound to the floor and arms pulled behing your back, you were seriously considering fighting the vines until they squeezed all air out of you.
Passing out seemed to be a less shameful option that having your pussy pressed against your coworkers very much hard cock, inside a dark cave, with bioluminescent vines and butterflies for company.
Xavier was as tightly bound as you, he stepped in to help and ended up being punished with a vine around his neck and other two against his wrists, pinning him against a cave wall.
You try to even your breathing, but your body is more interested in redirecting all blood flow downwards, right were both of you were awkwardly connected.
Xavier tries to clear his throat, but with the vine around it, the sound resembles a groan.
Neither of you want to address the elephant in the room.
You'd ask him why the fuck is he hard, but that would be the pot calling the kettle back, given that your own panties are clearly soaked through, and he can surely feel the wet moisture against his uniform.
It's not your fault.
… Well it kind of is, but who could blame you? You were tightly pressed against the one guy who you had had a crush on for months. And not only did he smell great, but he was also deliciously hard below you.
Xavier tries to clean his throat again and the vines contract in protest. He ends up groaning instead, a low sound of discomfort that honestly should not be so fucking hot.
But it was. And a shiver runs down your spine, muscles on your thighs trying to squeeze them together, only to be stopped by the unforgiving vines.
It's your turn to let out a frustrated groan. And it turns into a gasp of surprise when Xavier's hips jump up.
"Sorry," he whispers, voice strained, "I'm sorry."
"… Are you apologizing for moving or for humping me?" you ask, brain starting to overheat from all the pent up arousal.
"… Both."
"Right."
Silence follows. You can feel and hear Xavier's heart as it thunders against his ribcage, you own heart following the same routine.
The air grows thicker by the second, and you're not sure if its thanks to the raising temperature of the cave or just the result of two horny adults stuck so close together.
Xavier feels so big below you, and if he moved just a little bit he'd be pressing right where you needed him… Your head spins.
"Xavier," you break the silence, and he grunts back what sounds like a 'what'. "Want to… help each other out?"
Xavier sucks in a breath, almost as if he can't believe what he's hearing.
"Help… each other?"
"I really need to cum," you confess, cheeks burning a bright red. "You seem like you need it too."
Xavier moans, and you hear the dull sound of his head falling back against the cave's wall.
“Are you sure?”
“I'm sure.”
There's another pause while Xavier seems to be fighting his own demons, before he breathes out. You feel his feet kicking the rocky soil below you before his belly contracts against you.
“Fuck it” Xavier mumbles, and then he thrusts up.
Your eyes roll back. The skirt of your uniform was great for combat, but in this position? Your most vulnerable part was completely exposed, your cotton panties being the only fabric covering you.
You thank mentally whoever designed the hunter's male uniform pants, the fabric elastic and stretchy to allow for easy kicks. Right now, however, its stretchiness was what allowed you to feel Xavier’s cock against you so well, so perfectly.
You can only moan when he thrusts up again, and again, and again… The seam of his pants rubbed just right against the front of your underwear, pressing right on the hood of your clit, then further up with each of Xavier’s thrusts.
Panting against his chest, you try to curve your back to adjust the angle, but it only makes him rut further away from where you wanted it. With a whine, you correct your course, curving so that you were pressing into him instead.
The new angle makes your vision blur. With each thrust, Xavier was now pressing all the from your clit to your hole, his hard length providing a solid surface for your pussy to rub against.
Xavier is also panting above you, chest raising fast under your cheek, the heat of his body adding to the sweat that was already forming in your forehead.
You want to touch him. You want to hold onto his chest and ride his clothed cock until he is whimpering below you. You want to kiss him and confess your feelings. You want to cum.
“Xavier,” you moan, eyes closing so you can concentrate on the feeling of him against you.
“Don't– ah, don't say my name like that,” Xavier groans, voice rough, “I can't fuck you how I want to right now.”
You whimper against his chest, hips trying their best to match his pace, to rut against him faster, harder.
Your arms protest against the vines, and you feel them growing thicker around you, pinning you more forcefully against Xavier.
The sound of his cock rubbing over and over against your wet cunt echoes around the cave, slick pooling on your underwear and creating noisy squelches every time he presses on your hole.
Your mouth hangs open above his uniform, and you're probably staining the white fabric with drool, but you can't bring yourself to care.
“Xavier… Xavier…”
“Ah… I told you… To not moan my name so sweetly”
You don't care. You don't care. He's the one humping you. He's the one making your body burn this hot. He's…
“So good,” you pant, “So good Xavie, it's perfect”
His breath quickens below you, and you feel his chest contracting.
“‘s good?”
“So good,” you nod against him, mind focused on getting off, “You're gonna make me cum.”
Xavier moans, keeping his pace. He's sweating and the scent of his body wash and shaving cream is the only thing you can register. Your pussy contracts painfully – fuck, you want him inside of you. You want him to fuck you silly. Until the only thing you can remember is his name.
“Xa-Xavier… Xavier”
“Take what you need,” he pants through gritted teeth, “Use me. Make yourself feel good, starlight.”
Your toes curl inside your boots, muscles on your leg cramping from trying to squeeze around him.
You tug against the vines binding your arms again, hips rutting messily on him.
“Cum… Gonna cum, Xavie, gonna–”
You bite his uniform as your body shakes above him, pussy pressing down on his cock. Your eyes roll back and you hear Xavier cursing through your whimpers. That tips you over the edge, orgasm pulsing through you while you moan out his name.
Below you, Xavier's body tenses up and he gives a few more uncoordinated thrusts before you feel his own orgasm take over him.
Your body slumps over his, breath erratic and heart pounding on your chest. Your vision is still swimming from the intensity of your workout and you can only sigh, content, when you feel Xavier’s chin resting on your head, puffs of air heating up your scalp.
“Rest,” Xavier whispers, “I'll wake you up when the vines let up.”
Pairing: Rafayel x MC (implied)
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 1.5k
CW/Tags: Smut; Male Solo; Masturbation; Dirty Talk; Dirty Thoughts; description of sexual drawings and positions; Rafayel goes through the reader's sketchbook; reader is not present
Read on AO3
Rafayel didn’t mean to pry.
He respected your privacy enough to know that some things are still personal even when you are in a relationship. After all, you were nothing but respectful towards his own secrets, politely and gently asking for permission before attempting to unravel any side of him you had yet to see bared.
In his own defense, the book has fallen down the shelf all on its own. His finger had maybe been a bit too harsh when he picked up the poetry compilation you had recommended him and, thanks to that, a slimmer, more malleable one had found its way to the floor of his office.
Rafayel could recognize a sketchbook from miles away. More than that, he could recognize his own sketchbooks with scary precision. And that one on the floor, with its unassuming beige cover, long pages and simple spiral holding, that one wasn’t his.
As if to solidify its ownership, your name was scribbled right at the bottom left of the cover, in the same handwriting you’d leave cute notes for him in.
Which means Rafayel knew. He knew that that wasn’t his, knew that whatever was inside was not his business. He knew, and yet…
“Oh… Ms. Bodyguard, what a surprise.”
Rafayel is gripping his office’s table with enough strength for it to creak. Evening sunlight bathes the large room through the high windows while one of his hands keep the sketchbook open, long fingers sprawled over the page and tracing the gentle dents of each of your lines. If he concentrates, Rafayel can smell your scent coming from the pages, captured by them after what probably were long hours of detailing the drawings they hold. A less rational part of his brain wants to press each dent on the paper to his nose.
His breathing started failing him by page two.
Page one had been a sweet sketch of both of you – he recognized his hair and moles on the figure kissing the cheek of someone that was undoubtedly you, gentle smile and soft features, all drawn in quick, objective lines.
Page two, however, had been a three-panel collage of those same figures taking that innocent kiss to a new height. Precise lines had sketched him a hand, which first held your face and then turned it to meet his lips. Rafayel’s eyes panned over the tongue reaching into your mouth, then the soft curves of your mouth being claimed by his own.
By page three, he had already started apologizing mentally, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. He was greeted by a rough sketch of you laying on your side, the curve of your waist accentuated by his hand – grabbing at the natural slope as if it was a lifeline. Then another sketch of that same hand dipping lower, fingers pressing against your belly, the give of the skin softly shadowed. And, finally, one more drawing where the fingers disappear between the four lines that created your hips, leaving only the back of his hand covering right where your legs met.
On the borders of that same page, you had sketched his hands countless times. Some, he could recognize, were holding a brush, while others had his fingers bent inwards, prodding into something blurred by the fast work of your eraser.
From that point forward, the drawings only got rauchier, more and more depraved as they dipped into the secrets of your mind. Kinks and desires, some that you had yet to openly share with him, some that you had already explored together. And all that left him in his current state – breathless, flushed, staring at the pages like a man starved.
Your intention when drawing each of the poses was very clear, they evoked an obvious and strong feeling of want – need – and Rafayel was but a fellow artist, someone who could and would recognize intention and intonation for each piece.
“So that’s what you do when I’m away,” Rafayel mumbles to the empty room, stopping to stare at a drawing that filled an entire page. It was an angled pose, drawn by your imagination of his own point of view. In it, your legs were spread around his waist, body bent slightly back and held up by hands that were hidden behind you. The tip of his cock was held snug by your cunt, pressed between your wet sex and his own belly, with precum dripping down his abs. “Fuck.”
He was so entranced by the dirtiness of the pose, that Rafayel almost missed the tiny writings close to it. Almost.
‘tip feels good’
‘warm and wet’
‘twitches’
“Shit, cutie,” Rafayel’s right hand flies down to squeeze the hard outline of his cock, his pants doing very little to contain his girth, “Fuck.”
And Rafayel remembers now, remembers the exact date and place where that scene had taken place. He remembers the way your body had rolled over his, how warm and moist you felt, how he could feel you growing hotter by the second, the shade of that hard, delicious, nub getting redder the closer you got to your orgasm. Rafayel remembers your whines and pleas, the soft ‘yes’ you’d breathe out whenever the underside of his cock and your clit met.
At the realization that you had sketched something you both had lived together, his fingers press harder around his length, trying, and failing, to appease the growing need inside him. His cock is hard, harder than it had been in the last few days, and painfully so.
After mulling over it for a brief second, Rafayel gives up fighting the side of his brain that is begging him to fist himself, relinquishing power and letting it take over. With a shaky sigh, both of his hands fly to his pant’s buttons, undoing them at the same time his knees hit the cold floor.
He brings the damn sketchbook down with him, holding that same page open with his free hand as he gives himself the first few pumps. Fuck, he needed to get you to do that for him again, to grind over his cock until his words became incoherent. To recreate this drawing so many times it would become routine – having your gorgeous body straddling him, that sweet hole spilling slick all over his length, getting it ready to breach you, to fuck you, claim you.
His own tip leaks down his palm in a clear sign of desperation. “Fuck,” he breathes out, the sound of his fist smacking against his pelvis echoing around the office, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”. But Rafayel knows he needs more, needs to peek deeper into what depravity your sweet mind had come up with and then go find you to make sure each and every single one of them came to life.
With a dull thud, the sketchbook is laid out on the floor, and Rafayel flips the page again.
He lets out a moan at what greets him, “Heavens, cutie…”. Rafayel recognizes himself again, his lower body to be more precise, sitting down while a face that can only be yours is buried in between his legs. Right underneath, the drawing is replicated but zoomed in on his crotch, a clear line of spit carefully shadowed where your mouth meets his length.
‘twitches when you lick the vein on the underside’
‘leaks more on ebb’
‘sweeter too’
“Naughty… Vixen, cutie, damn.” He works himself faster, giving up all sense of integrity as he towers over the book, holding himself up on his hands and knees and staring down at the lines that create your tongue.
Rafayel is moaning, uncaringly of the outside world, mind focused solely on imagining what your hands had created.
He stops to hastily turn the page again, accidentally staining the paper with himself, but he cannot care.
“Hah–,” and now there’s you. Your cunt. And your fingers, spreading yourself open. Probably something you copied from looking at the mirror. “Shit,” Rafayel pants, voice strangled as his eyes pan over to another drawing of his cock. Positioned, ready to fuck you. Then fucking you. Missionary, doggie, cowgirl – the page is filled with some of the positions you two used the most, most messily sketched, some so detailed they could’ve been a picture.
‘reaches so deep’
‘the best’
‘ask him again’
His eyes roll back, closing briefly as the image of both of you trying out all of these positions flash in his mind. Your face, your voice, your scent. He might be drooling, sweating down and dripping on your book, hand working over himself so fast it must be a blur.
Rafayel comes with a high pitched cry, the lines of all of your drawings ingrained on his brain for what he hopes is forever. His cock twitches, sensitive and red, spilling that same white, creamy, cum that he fills you with right on the pages of your sketchbook. He curses low, squeezing until the last drop finds the lips you had drawn.
“Gonna fuck you… So hard,” he pants, smearing the liquid around the page with the swollen tip of his cock. “So, so hard.”
starts very sweet, lots of praising and gentle affirmations; "so pretty", "so sweet", "looking this gorgeous just for me"
gets demanding and more talkative, also enjoys some push-and-pull; "should I tie you up next time?", "… and where are your hands going now?", "feels good, my love? yeah? I can tell"
ends up with one of the dirtiest mouths, curses low in that same sweet voice, also very possessive; "this is mine, right? say it", "'m gonna fuck you so full", "feel good on my cock, my love, that's it… thaaat's it"
ଳ Rafayel ଳ
teasing little shit, enjoys riling you up as foreplay, has no shame at all and will intentionally use words that make you blush; "oh, and what's that, cutie?", "someone's eager", "look at you, so wet already"
gets lost in the moment easily, mixing praise and teasing; "fuuuck, cutie, yes, that's so good", "finish what you started, come on", "shouldn't a good boy get a prize?"
ends up under one of two extremes, either very sweet and cuddly, praising you to the end, or cursing as hard as he is fucking into you; "yes, yes, that's my girl, fuck…", "such a sweet pussy, cutie, look…", "cum for me one more time, yeah?"
❅ Zayne ❅
very creative with words, plays along with whatever you come up with, be it teasing or just roleplay; "oh? and what does my doctor recommend?", "that's quite the predicament we've found ourselves in", "now, this is telling me a different story…"
moans and whines in a low voice, very encouraging and full of affirmatives; "that's it, baby", "yes, angel, come on", "so, so good"
tends to describe what's happening and what he is feeling, shameless about letting you know he knows you are feeling good and he is as well; "you're squeezing me so tight", "you're gonna cum for me, I can feel it", "take it for me, come on"
𓇢𓆸 Sylus 𓇢𓆸
laughs, the fucker, in that low timbre he has, also very enabling; "oh? is that so?", "show me, sweetie", "what a pretty kitten I've found"
will encourage any of your ideas, enjoys seeing you do what you want to do and takes the lead when your courage falters; "we shouldn't stop half way", "is this what you wanted?", "look at this… aren't you proud?"
the kind to hug you close as he gets lost in it, whispering sweet praises into your neck and ears; "yes, kitten, harder, come on", "that's it, that's it", "good job, such a good girl"
✈︎ Caleb ✈︎
into anything you are into, follows through with any roleplay you try to start, with the downside that he will stick to the role regardless of eventual shame on your part; "come on, Captain, what should I do?", "no, that's not it, you should be saying 'yes, sir'", "cat got your tongue?"
can get pretty commanding, but will let you lead if that's what you want; "behave, Pips", "na-ah, we should play nice", "here, yeah? I know"
descriptive, knows what makes you blush and pout and gets off on talking you through it, although very whiny; "are you gonna let me fuck you, baby? Yeah?", "gonna cum around my cock, so pretty", "ah, s-, yeah, take all of me, be good"
✈︎ Thinking... about meanie!Caleb overstimulating MC to his heart's content
Pairing: CALEB x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 1.4k
CW/Tags: light dom/sub dynamics, possessiveness, name calling, subspace, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, check-ins, safe sane consensual, degradation/mocking tones, aftercare; plot what plot
Read on AO3
“Caleb. Caleb, please–,”
“What's the matter, Pips?” Caleb's mocking chuckle fills the room, “Thought this was what you wanted?”
“Wan–, fuck, I want to cum, please, pl–,”
Caleb clicks his tongue, right arm holding both of your wrists tighter, “You can cum.”
“No,” you shake your head at his words, mind fuzzy from being submitted to this for so long, “Can't, I can't, I need–,”
“You need to take what I give you,” he corrects, voice dropping dangerously low, “Wasn't it always like this? You ask and I provide? I'm providing, Pips. You can't be picky.”
Caleb's definition of ‘providing’ didn’t match yours.
He had been there for a while. How long exactly your overworked brain couldn't precise. Two inches in, angling up, prodding and rubbing one specific spot inside of you – relentlessly, cruelly.
Caleb's hips move once again. Enough to push the tip of his cock towards your bladder, crushing that spongy heaven close to your entrance and making you cry out, but nowhere near a decent thrust.
“Fuck,” you whimper, belly twitching at the delicious pressure, “Please, please…”
“Just cum,” Caleb thrusts again, “Isn't that what you want?”
“No,” you mumble, eyes welling up, “No, that's not–”
“No?” Caleb stops. He brings your wrists above your head, pinning them to the mattress. “But that's what you've been begging for. Did you lie?”
“Didn't lie,” you shake your head again, faster this time, “Didn't lie.”
Your gaze finds his, blurred by the tears that have yet to fall, and Caleb's eyes travel down to your lips – surely bitten red and swollen by now.
“First you ask me to cum,” he whispers, nose brushing against yours, “Then you tell me you don't want to cum… I've spoiled you rotten, it seems.”
Your heart swells, hopeful. That's gentle Caleb. That's the Caleb that gives you what you ask for, that's…
“Sadly,” Caleb sighs, moving away from you and bringing your arms back to the front of your body, “Today we are doing this my way.”
He sits back on his heels, thighs spread, and rolls his hips forward – again, too shallow to be called a proper thrust and, again, hitting that spot head on.
Electricity flows down your spine as he continues, setting into a pace of rolling forward, then back, successfully bullying you into a shaking mess.
“Ca–ngh, Caleb,” your head falls back, brain turning to putty, “Ca– fuck, please, please…”
Your high pitched whines do very little to change his mind and soon they start matching the loud wet squelches echoing around your bedroom. You're dripping for him, as you've been through the last hour.
Each time he pushes forward, you feel that vein at the back of his cock rubbing against your hole. And each time he pulls back, you feel yourself stretching around his tip, stopping him from pulling out entirely.
It's maddening. Not only because your most sensitive spot is constantly being hit by his swollen head, but also because he is not going far enough for you to properly close around him – the thickest part of his cock is constantly pushing in and out, keeping you open and stretched around Caleb.
Your legs gave up fighting it three orgasms ago, and now they lay spread and shaking, too weak to even hook around him. Your brain is quickly following the same path, thoughts mushy, cushioned by the relentless pleasure and pressure of his length.
It's good. It's so good… He keeps hitting right there, right where you need him, where you love him, where–
“Pips,” Caleb pulls on your wrists, and your head bobs forward. You're panting, whining weakly at each roll of his body, “Still with me?”
You nod, or try to. Caleb moves forward again and your waist shakes – you're so wet, so close, it feels so good…
“Look at me,” he commands, and when you don't comply he releases your wrists, hand reaching out to hold your chin, “You wanna stop?”
You move your head left and right slowly, lips brushing against his thumb. Caleb hisses when your body squeezes down on him, “Wanna cum.”
“You don't want to stop?” he asks again, holding your chin tighter.
“No.”
He takes a second to look at you. Somewhere inside your brain you know he's checking if you're okay – as he always does. You're too deep within your mind to care about that right now, though, so you squeeze down on him once again.
Caleb is satisfied with whatever he sees in your expression, because the next second that tough facade is back. He pulls out until your rim catches on his tip, then grins, “Should I make you cum, princess?”
You try to nod, but his hold on your chin tightens.
“You're mine to play with, right?” Caleb rolls forward again, cock angled up. He stops exactly on your g-spot, “Mine to fuck,” he pulls out to your rim once more, “Mine to breed,” in again.
Amongst the sparkles cursing through you, something akin to an affirmation comes out of your throat, and Caleb forces his thumb past your lips, holding your tongue down.
“If you're mine to do all that… Then you're no better than a fuck-toy, right? And fuck-toys obey.”
His words register with a delay and you try once again to nod. Yes, you'd obey. You could do that. Anything he asks you to, as long as you can cum, as long as…
“You gonna obey, Pips?”
Caleb snaps his hips up, fucking you shallowly once again. He sets a harsh pace, bullying that spongy spot over and over and over again.
Tears fall down your cheeks, mixing with the spit dripping down your chin right onto his hand. Right now you can't care anymore. Right now your body can only focus on the way Caleb is crushing you there. On the way you're kept open by his thick cock, the way your slick is pooling down on the bed, the way–
“Good girl,” the praise resonates around you, and your belly clenches, “Perfect little hole, look at you.”
You pant in rhythm with his thrusts and your legs shake harder.
“What a mess, Pips, you're so fucking wet… Can you hear it?” Caleb chuckles, and your vision blurs further, you're so close, so close… “Be good, yeah? Be good and come from me giving you only my tip to rut on. From me fucking you right where you love it, come on.”
He presses down on your tongue, and his other hand comes down to push on your navel.
Your eyes snap open, head falling back. Caleb’s hand slips from your mouth and your arms fly to hold his, nails digging on skin, “‐uck, fuck, fuck, Caleb, Caleb…”
“Cum,” he groans, “On my cock, come on.”
Shaking, you do as he tells you, orgasm crashing down on you. You scream his name, bowing your back involuntarily – Caleb uses that as an opportunity to sheath himself inside of you, filling you entirely.
He starts thrusting properly, pounding you into the mattress and your brain short circuits. You're still cumming, wave after wave of unrelenting pleasure, but now you have more, you have him everywhere.
“You're doing that again for me,” he whispers, voice nothing more than a low groan, “One more as I fill you up.”
You're not sure if you ever stop cumming, but soon it's a crescendo again. Caleb fills you perfectly, to the brim. He reaches deep, pounds you somewhere your fingers can't reach, and it's good, it's perfect.
“Perfect, baby?” Caleb chuckles, “That's adorable. I'm ruining your pussy and you're babbling about ‘perfect’...”
“‘s good,” you whine.
“Yeah,” he pants. “You get cock-dumb so easily, don't you? But it's okay… It's okay, I'm here to take care of you.”
He is. He is. Caleb is here, he will take care of everything.
“Cu–cumming,” you tell him, nails scratching down his arm. The same arm that is still pressing down your bladder.
“Yeah? Do that for me, be a good girl and do that for me.”
Your vision swims, body locking down on him. Your orgasm reaches you one more time, right before the world turns into static.
You register your body shaking, and Caleb moaning as he reaches his own high. More static and you feel his gentle, warm hands on you, then a towel and kisses.
Pairing: Zayne x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 3.7k
CW/Tags: Fluff; Fluff and Smut; Locked In together; Semi-Public Sex; Kissing; Groping; Frottage; PinV Sex; Unsafe Sex; Creampie; Size Kink
Read on AO3
You had envisioned a nice afternoon.
The hospital had scheduled a routine check-up for you today, right after lunch, and Zayne had been awfully busy these past few days to properly have some coffee with you, so you thought of killing two birds with one stone – get your check-up and a date.
The plan seemed perfect, you left the Association early for lunch, stopping by a bakery nearby to get two coffees and a cake slice, plus two macarons you hoped Zayne would eat later in his shift.
Being early October, the air was chilly, Linkon's streets painted a beautiful orange from the fallen leaves and the smell of warm and spicy beverages was present in every store. You couldn't help but hum on your way to the hospital, the mood was perfect for a date at the small garden by Zayne's office.
Except the calm autumn atmosphere was nowhere reflected inside the hospital. As soon as you stepped in you noticed the frenetic energy that permeated the ambient, people wearing formal suits and pencil skirts walked around hastily, in their arms, piles of laminated paper, brochures and pens.
“What is going on?” you asked one of the receptionists, a black haired friend of Dr. Greyson if you remembered well “Is there an event at the hospital today?”
“Yes,” she answered “We're deeply sorry for the inconvenience, a conference on fetal malnourishment that was going to happen at a nearby hotel had to be moved here last minute…”
“Oh, that sounds like a handful,” you grimaced, last minute events were chaotic by nature, but an entire medical conference… “Hope everything works out well.”
“Doesn't need to be well, as long as it works,” she muttered under her breath, then quickly raised her head, throwing you a sheepish smile “Are you here for a scheduled exam, ma'am?”
“Ah, yes” you chuckled “I have a check-up at one. It's a hospital scheduled one.”
“Alright. Would you please give me your ID?”
Soon after, she had you checked in and waiting at the nearby outpatient room. Setting down the cake bag and coffee handler, you sent Zayne a quick text to let him know you were already there – oddly enough, the answer you thought would come quickly hadn't arrived even after your check-up had ended.
“Is he in surgery?” you asked yourself a few minutes later after checking his office. One, two knocks and nothing… Empty, again.
“Looking for Dr. Zayne?”
“Oh sh– Dr. Greyson!” you looked back accusingly at Zayne's assistant, what was it with cardiac surgeons and not making any noise when they approached?
He laughed, raising his hands to show he meant no harm “Didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry. Dr. Zayne is on the second floor right now.”
“...Thank you.” you paused. “Isn’t the second floor having that huge conference now?”
Dr. Greyson scratched his head, “Yes. Dr. Zayne got… held up? Apparently one of the panelists worked with him a while back…”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I tried to ask, but, you know…”
You knew. Zayne wasn't one to talk freely about his past work experiences, not unless he wanted to, of course. “Thank you, I'll go see if I can steal him for a second.”
“Bet you could get more than a second,” Dr. Greyson laughed. “Ah! Would you please tell him the surgery we had at five was rescheduled? I sent him a message, but I don't think he read it.”
“Oh, sure,” you nodded as you turned to walk down the hallway, “Thank you again, Dr. Greyson.”
Taking the elevator back down to the second floor, you wondered how Zayne ended up working with an obstetrician in the past – was it a residency thing? Was he interested in the area? “...I should ask him later.”
The convention was already in full swing when you arrived, or, at least, it seemed like it. Now, combined with the men and women in formal suits, a myriad of white coats made the second floor feel smaller than it actually was. Walking around looking for Zayne, all you could hear was laughter and small talk, mixed with medical jargon and the clicking of pens.
Zayne was tall, he shouldn't be hard to find, but, apparently, white coats easily blended together in a well lit room and Zayne's black hair was seemingly a common factor among obstetricians.
Accepting that your odds of finding Zayne were awfully low, you were about to send him another text when you felt a hand gently grab your wrist. Looking back, you saw Zayne talking to an older doctor, eyes leaving the other man's face for only a second to look at you – a brief acknowledgement of your presence.
When he felt you settle beside him, waiting for his conversation to come to a stop, Zayne released the pressure on your wrist, letting his hand slide down to your palm and intertwining your fingers.
The other doctor Zayne was talking to seemed to be in his late sixties, he had a large figure, his hair and mustache a solid white, although a bit disheveled. You couldn't gather much just by looking, but he seemed friendly as he sported a constant grin on his face, and moved his hands around quite a lot.
After a few more seconds, the older man noticed you, his eyes quickly dropping to where Zayne was holding you “Well, thank you again Zayne, you were an absolute lifesaver,” smiling, the other doctor looked at you again, “and I see I must have kept you here for too long, eh?”
Zayne politely smiled back, squeezing your fingers just so, “It was my pleasure, Dr. Cayenne, I was happy to see you again after so long,” Zayne looked back at you then, his expression softening a little bit, “And here's my partner, we've been together for a while.”
“Oh, I see!” Dr. Cayenne laughed again, bringing one of his hands to rest on the chest pocket of his white coat, “It's a pleasure to meet you, miss, I'm Hudge Cayenne, an old acquaintance of Zayne.”
“Please, a friend, Dr. Cayenne.”
“Heh, so he says!” the old man threw you a smile, winking when he said, “Quite a good man you have, miss, he has a good heart!”
It was your turn to smile, cheeks heating a little bit as you winked back, playful, “I know, I couldn't ask for more.”
“You–,”
“I like her, Zayne!” Dr. Cayenne laughed once more, patting Zayne's shoulder and giving him a light squeeze to prove his point, “You two are a good pair!” Turning back towards you, he lowered his voice “When you two decide to bring more good hearts to this world, let me know, I'll make sure they arrive safe and sound.”
“Oh–,”
“Alright, Dr. Cayenne, the conference is about to start.”
“You'd make cute babies, Zayne!”
“Dr. Cayenne, pleas–,”
“Alright, alright, but do let me know!”
As he left, you looked up at Zayne. The blush on his cheeks was not as high as yours, but it was definitely there, the sweat pooling on his palm against your own also a clear indicator of just how flustered he was. Zayne probably felt you looking, but he kept his eyes to the side as he tried to compose himself.
“Let's – let's find a quiet place,” he whispered in a low voice.
You nodded your yes, before realizing he couldn't see it “Yeah, let's go.”
However, a quiet place seemed like a distant dream on such a crowded second floor. You tried to take the elevator up, back to Zayne's office, but were quickly outnumbered by a huge group of interns trying to make it in time for a panel. Then, you tried the stairs, but a security guard informed you that they were temporarily locked to allow the cleaning team a chance to deal with a big coffee spill that had happened a few minutes prior.
You tried looking for rooms, but the entire second floor consisted of the auditorium in which the convention was taking place, the tiny backstage, one, locked, director's room and two sets of bathrooms.
“What… kind of nightmare is this? We got in, how come we can't leave?” you cried out staring at the “Out Of Order” sign on the employee's elevator that was tucked away in a corner close to the fire exits.
“I…” Zayne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Honestly have no idea.”
“I just wanted to have a nice short date at a quiet place…” it was your turn to sigh. “Sorry, Zayne,” you apologized, eyes downcast, “Even the cake I got us is all melted.”
“Don't worry about it,” Zayne squeezed the fingers still holding the cake box, “We can always get more.”
Zayne stopped talking for a second, briefly looking around, “As for the quiet place… There's one more room we haven't checked.”
“Huh?”
————
This was how you found yourself squeezed inside a small storeroom. Zayne had said it was barely known, tucked close to the back stairs, meant to keep a few brooms and emergency supplies.
Seeing how Zayne could barely stand straight, you doubted the brooms would have a better chance.
“It's… cozy,” you try, arms squeezed against Zayne's chest, cake box discarded in a thrash can outside.
Zayne sighs, bending his neck to look around the tiny room, “You're being extremely generous.”
“Working lights would make it cozier.”
“Again, extremely generous.”
You hum, resting your forehead on his broad chest. Even through the coat, you could smell the soft fragrance of Zayne's detergent, a mix of jasmines and pinewood. “Should we try the elevator again? Maybe the students have all arrived.”
Another sigh, Zayne traces idle circles on your lower back, not much room for his hands to rest anywhere else. “Do you want to try that?” you feel the soft weight of his cheek against the top of your head. “Hugging you like this is also nice.”
Giggling, you bring your hands down to his waist, nuzzling your face against him, “It is.”
You feel his smile against your hair, heartbeat syncing with his the more you stay pressed together. “However,” you trace the seam of his coat, “There's not even an air vent in here. I feel a bit claustrophobic.”
He nods, raising his right hand slightly to the doorknob, “Then let's leave.”
“...”
“...”
“Zayne?” you try to look back. You knew his hand was on the doorknob, but from your position you couldn't quite look down at it to check, “Aren't you going to open the door?”
You feel his chest raising against you as he takes a deep breath, the hand on your back twitching as he holds you closer, “I'm… afraid the door is stuck.”
“What?” you look up at him, trying to grasp what expression he was making in the dimly lit room. “Are we locked in?”
“Seems like it,” Zayne looks down at you, the green of his eyes catching the small stripe of light that came from the opening above the door. “Do you feel okay? I can use my evol to break the lock”
“Me?” your eyebrows squeeze together, “Oh! Oh, I was joking about feeling claustrophobic.”
Zayne nods, trying to move the knob once more, no luck, “We should avoid damaging public property.”
“Yeah,” you move your head back to his chest. “I have my phone, in my back pocket,” trying to reach for it, you realize you can't bend your elbows far enough, “Can you get it?”
Zayne hesitates for a split second, you hear his heartbeat speeding up slightly and your cheeks flush in response.
Still, Zayne moves the hand on your lower back further down, hand sprawling over your ass.
You clear your throat, “The… The other pocket”
You feel Zayne looking up, hearing as he swallows. A few seconds later, his other hand comes down to touch your back, then slid towards your pocket. To your confusion, he looks down at you, both hands resting above your rear.
“There's nothing here,” he whispers, voice a bit strained.
“What?” your hips move instinctively, trying to press back so you could feel any lumps. Belatedly, you realize you were humping Zayne's hands, body freezing in place. “I–... I think it fell outside”
It's Zayne's turn to clear his throat, hands twitching, but not leaving their place.
You shuffle closer to him, awkwardly holding onto the seams of his coat, not really sure where your eyes should land.
It had been… a while, since you and Zayne had been this close together. Nevermind not seeing each other for a few days, you and Zayne hadn't had the chance to spend a night together for almost two months. Work trips, demanding missions, exhaustion and a fear of intruding when the other was too tired had caused you two to choose your own homes and beds over the other's.
Right now, the decision weighs heavily on your mind. With Zayne so close, you were reminded of just how many nights you both had spent in the same proximity, lost in each other's bodies.
The warm pressure of his palms reminds you of just how well these same hands knew how to work inside of you, how Zayne had a talent for coaxing cries, screams, moans and whines…
The sound of his whispered voice right by your ear snaps you out of that dangerous line of thought, “Your breath is quicker.”
You realize that, yes, it was quicker. Your face also felt a lot warmer than before. Actually, the entire storeroom felt a lot warmer than before.
You can't help but squirm at the feeling of Zayne's breath on your neck.
“It's hot in here.”
Zayne chuckles, the sound traveling straight down your spine, “Fall is not a warm season.”
“It's not fall inside this storeroom.”
He pauses for a second. Then, you feel the hands that were still over your ass moving slightly, further down, to properly grope you, fingers pressing down on supple flesh covered by thin pants. “I agree” Zayne whispers back, the cold tip of his nose pressing a line down your neck, “It's more like spring.”
You gasp at him, back arching as he holds you with a bit more strength, pulling you to him.
“What are you doing?” but your voice sounds nowhere near as scandalized as you had planned, the last syllables coming more like a whine.
“Feeling you up,” Zayne leaves a small peck on your jaw, “Inside a locked storeroom.”
You shiver, spreading your legs a little bit so he could have a better grip.
“Now,” Zayne chuckles, “What are you doing?”
You let out a small whine, feeling his hands squeezing you tighter, closer. “I'm… letting you feel me up, inside a locked storeroom… Dr. Zayne.”
You feel his breath hitch, heartbeat matching the fast pace of your own. Turning your head, you get on your tip toes to place a soft kiss on his chin, “I missed you a lot.”
Zayne groans, hands kneading your ass once more before he uses the leverage to pull you further up, sliding his knee between your legs. You moan when you feel the solid strength of his thighs against you and he takes this opportunity to lean down for a kiss.
You are not proud of the sound that leaves you when you finally feel his tongue against yours. Needy, almost desperate for contact, Zayne provides what you had been craving for way too long.
His kisses are always so good, precise, delicate even. Zayne kisses you with something akin to adoration – he knows your mouth like the back of his hands, letting his tongue slide up over yours, up your palate, on your lips, a constant wet pressure that reminds you just how much you were willing to give to this man.
Dizzy, you don't even realize you're rutting against his leg until his own hands press you closer. You let his mouth go with a gasp, trying, and failing, to properly breathe, it's still so fucking warm. Zayne follows you, bending down a little to suck your lower lip into his mouth, stealing another whine from your throat.
“Z– Zayne,” overwhelmed, you push your body back, letting your head rest against the door while Zayne's hands keep your waist glued to his. Looking up, you watch the way his eyes keep tracing over you, from your lips, to your eyes, to your chest, then further down.
Zayne is no better. Panting slightly, lips kissed red and swollen, his white coat bending at weird angles from your pulling. Whining, your hips twitch in his grasp, Zayne looks like a treat. One you probably shouldn't be having right now, but still a treat.
He pulls your waist up a bit, a hard length pressing against the front of your pants. Your hips twitch again.
“Zayne,” you repeat, watching as his eyes focus back on your face, pupils growing wider.
“Yes?”
“It's too hot,” you whisper, rolling your hips in his hold “My pants feel uncomfortable.”
Zayne breathes out a low curse, hands coming to the front of your pants, deftly undoing the two buttons and pulling the zipper down. “Better?”
“No.”
“Then come back here,” Zayne pulls you forward, back to his embrace, body once again pressed tight against his. “Get on your tip toes again,” he whispers against your neck, hands claiming a spot on your waist, “Good girl.”
He pushes the hem of your pants down, unashamedly taking your underwear with it. You let the fabric pool at your feet, gasping as you feel Zayne's hands come back to squeeze the supple flesh of your ass.
“You're…” your voice breaks as Zayne pushes you up against him once more, mouth back to peppering kisses on your neck, “Too bold today.”
He hums against your throat, “The human mind reacts wildly to confinement.”
“This is hardly confinemen– ngh!” your hands tighten on his coat, face growing a shade deeper of red as you feel him squeeze and spread your cheeks. “Zayne!”
“I'm sorry,” you feel his smile against your skin, “Couldn't resist.”
He turns to kiss your pout away as his right hand slides lower, index and middle fingers pressing softly against your pussy. You moan as you feel Zayne slowly circle his fingers, a gentle pressure right above your hole.
He releases your lips right as he pulls his hand back, giving your ass another squeeze, “There's not enough room for me to do this properly.” Zayne bends a bit to kiss your jaw, “And I don't want to hurt you,” he whispers, sucking a tiny mark close to your ear.
You nod, but your head is spinning with want. You're already bare, couldn't he just…
“My love,” his breath ghosts the shell of your ear and you feel the little hairs on your nape rise, “Are you able to undo the buttons of my coat?”
You shiver.
“Yeah, I can try.”
Zayne hums again, barely giving you any room to move your arms as he keeps his attention on your jaw. Your hands shake as you try, and fail, to focus on his buttons. After what feels like hours, you manage to get to the last one, his dedication to kissing every bit of available skin leaving your dripping on his jeans, breath uneven.
“Finally,” you whisper as you let his coat fall open, hands spreading on his belly, feeling his muscles contract under the thin fabric of his shirt. When Zayne doesn't move to stop you, you let your fingers undo his belt, then his jeans.
Zayne squeezes your ass once more when he feels you palming the hem of his underwear, nails lightly scratching at the happy trail above it, “Zayne?” you ask.
His face comes into view, it's his turn to press his head against the wall. “All yours.” Zayne finds your eyes, green almost entirely taken by the black of his pupils.
You lick your lips as you look back down, fingers pulling on his white briefs, catching halfway on the slope of his cock. You watch as he bobs free, thick length slightly curved left, veins marking his middle, head a deep red and balls heavy, clearly lacking release – absently, you wonder if Zayne had masturbated at all during these two months. Under your attention, a bead of precum quickly forms at the tip. You have half a mind of dropping to your knees and tasting that bead when Zayne moves.
His hands move to your waist, back straightening as he towers over you. “Arms around my neck,” Zayne instructs, voice a bit strained, “Hold tight,” he whispers when you comply, feet barely touching the floor after you loop your arms behind his nape.
One of his hands disappears from your waist and soon you feel the warmth of his tip pressing against your tights, “Look at me. Good. Now open your legs a bit.” When you do, he uses two fingers to slip his cock between your tights, eyes trained on your face as he watches your mouth open in surprise. “Close them,” Zayne murmurs, “Let me rut against you.”
A full body shiver travels through you when you press your legs together, Zayne’s warm length pushing up against the wetness of your folds. Your head drops to his shoulder as you feel his hands back on your ass, gently guiding you forward, a whine escaping your mouth when your clit presses against the base of his cock. “Hold on to me,” Zayne repeats right before starting to set a rhythm.
He starts slowly, gently pushing your body forward, then pulling it back, letting the tip of his cock slide through your lips, your slick coating his length thrust after thrust. “Zayne,” you whine after the head of his cock catches on your hole for a second.
“Sorry,” he whispers against the top of your head, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to put it in.”
‘Why not’ you want to cry back, but the only sound that leaves your throat is a high whine as he picks up speed. Fully coated with you, Zayne slips between your thighs easily, cock rubbing up against your pussy from top to bottom time and time again, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the tiny storeroom – filthy, indecent, but so, so good.
“Za–a–,”
“Hold me tighter,” he instructs, groaning when he feels your tights flexing together, “With your arms.”
You obey, mind hazy.
Zayne then braces your middle, arms fully enveloping you and pressing you closer to him. You squeal when he raises you a bit, using his strength and size to keep you almost above the floor, only the tips of your shoes touching the storeroom’s floor. Like this, Zayne has complete control over the movement, and his thrusts come faster, more precise.
You can’t really control your moans, air being pushed out of you every time Zayne slides his cock forward, length a constant pressure against your clit. You bite his shirt when another thrust catches at your hole. Then another, and another… “Fuck, Zayne” you whine against his shirt, chin messy with your own spit, a dark spot on the cotton covering his shoulder.
You hear a low curse against your head as Zayne feels your tights flexing involuntarily, you’re so wet, so close… “Can you cum like this?” he asks, and you shake your head, groaning as he keeps thrusting – you want to, really want to, but it’s not enough.
“Tell me.”
You think for a second, brain foggy from pleasure, then let one arm fall down from his shoulder. Zayne slows his rhythm to small ruts, arms releasing you enough so your feet can touch the floor again. Once you’re steady, you press as close as you can to him, making sure his tip rests perfectly below where you need him. You hear him taking in a breath as your hand reaches back, fingers pressing down until you feel the tip of his cock against your pads. Curving your back slightly, you push his tip inside.
Your head spins as you feel the thickness of his glans breaching you – two hellish months without this, without his weight spreading you open, stretching you perfectly – “Fuck” you whine, head resting against his chest, “Missed you, so much.”
Zayne groans, head falling back against the wall, “You’re going to tear,” he reasons, teeth gritted, breath coming in short pants.
“Who fucking cares,” You try to push him further, to feel him deeper, but the angle is not the best, “Help me,” you plead, “Fuck me.”
You watch as his brain ponders the pros and cons of taking you inside this storeroom, it takes him one second to come to a decision, then Zayne is pushing you forward. When your back is fully pressed against the door, he moves his hands to your waist, “I will check later,” he warms, before angling your hips toward him, cockhead pushing against you.
“Yes,” you cry out as he finally breaches that first ring of muscle, stretching you on his cock. Your legs spasm as his tip presses right below your bladder, then further up, slowly opening you up until he finally settles fully inside of you. “Yes, Zayne!”
Zayne rests his forehead against yours, hands shaking as they hold your body still for a second, giving you a chance to process his size. As your breaths mingle, warm in the tiny space, you watch a sweat droplet roll down his neck, disappearing below his shirt, then reach a hand to rest against his belly, fingers pressing soft muscle.
“Not gonna last,” you warn him, your walls contracting involuntarily as if to prove your point.
“Me either,” Zayne opens his eyes, brows furrowed. “Too long without you.”
“Yeah,” you nod against him, tilting your face down for a kiss.
Zayne starts thrusting as he kisses you, barely moving back before pressing in, letting your clit rub against the base of his cock and navel each time. This was not meant to last, Zayne knew exactly how to work your body.
With short movements, Zayne keeps pressing further in, and you hear as your body responds to him, slick gathering on your opening, creating a sticky white mess around him and making each thrust sound filthier, wetter. Soon, your walls start contracting against him, a rhythmless push and pull meant to guide him further, deeper.
The storeroom echoes both of your gasps and groans, paired perfectly with the dirty symphony of your bodies finding each other. “Oh, fuck,” you whine as you feel his tip reach your cervix, and Zayne answers with a moan, eyes zeroing down at where his hands are pressing down on your waist, “So deep Zayne, so – oh, god, so good!”
Zayne speeds up slightly, hitting the back of your walls more forcefully. Looking down as well, you see a string of slick connecting your clit and his navel, appearing and disappearing every time he buries his cock in. The sight breaks something inside of you, a familiar warmth spreading on your belly, orgasm approaching faster.
“Gonna cum, gonna– fuck, Zayne, cummi–,” his mouth finds yours, swallowing your cries as your high crashes over you, head spinning from the strenght of it and the sudden lack of air.
Your walls squeeze down on him, belly tensing as he keeps fucking you through it, strong hands steading your lower body so you don't slip. Zayne mumbles a small curse against your lips and buries himself to the hilt one last time, cock pulsing inside with thick spurts of cum, filling you up completely.
You tremble at the feeling of his release so deep inside of you, trying and failing to stop your hips from shaking, the last waves of your orgasm still rolling through you.
After a few seconds of catching your breath, you open your eyes, immediately meeting dark pools of green. You and Zayne stare at each other for a minute, before you break into a giggle, ears burning as realization of what you had just done hits.
“Did we really just…?” you breath, and Zayne smiles back, nodding once before nuzzling your face, “Oh my god, Zayne.”
He chuckles, pulling out slowly, “We– ah, we did, yes.”
You scrunch your nose at the feeling of his spent dripping out, legs too shaky to try and keep it inside. Zayne pats his breast pocket for a handkerchief, and then uses it to clean the mess going down your legs.
As both of you quietly clean and fix each other's clothes, you ask, “We never found a way to unlock this door, huh… What should we do?”
Zayne clears his throat, and you watch as his ears grow red. “It seems,” he starts. “That the key was inserted incorrectly.”
“... Zayne”
He side eyes you, embarrassment high on his cheeks. He then moves a hand behind your body, towards the door knob, taking the key and rotating it before pressing it back. You hear the click of the lock.
Pairing: Xavier x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 3.2k
CW/Tags: Fluff; Fluff and Smut; Insecurity; Praise; Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Body Worship; Vaginal Fingering; AFAB | Assigned Female at Birth Reader-Insert; Dirty Talk; Explicit Consent; Enthusiastic Consent; MC is described as plus size/thicker; No full description of MC; Bunny used as an endearment term; Dorks in Love; No beta we die like grandma; First time together but not first time having sex
Read on AO3
“Your evol is very pretty,” you whisper. One of your fingers reach out and a small light orb hovers above it.
In the darkened room, Xavier’s evol lights cast a gentle glow over your body and his – both barely clothed, despite the heavy snow falling outside.
Soft, grey strands tickle your chin as Xavier slowly rises his head from where it had been resting. Your chest, to be more precise, ear to heart. He watches you for a second before asking, “Is it?”
“Yes,” comes your answer, voice barely a whisper as your eyes follow the little orb. It circles your hand, then your wrist, stopping right at your pulse point, “Everything about you is pretty. Even your evol.”
It’s not meant to slip through your voice. That ugly feeling of insecurity that seemed to follow you around these days. But it does, at least a little bit, just enough for him to notice.
Xavier moves above you, the warmth of his body leaving for a brief second to allow him to settle his weight on his wrists, arms caging your shoulders.
Letting the hand that had been playing with the light orb fall down onto the bedding, you look up to meet his gaze. Bright blue, shining as they catch the glimmer from his evol, paired with thin, silver browns. Gorgeous, they raise as he speaks.
“The light from my Evol is exclusive for one person. I should be thankful you find it pleasing.”
The corners of your mouth curve up into a small smile. ‘Yes, Xavie,’ is what you want to say, ‘I know, and yes I find them pleasing.’ But nothing comes out. Instead, the heavy claws of insecurity tighten their grip, and your gaze wavers, smile faltering.
You expect a frown, maybe questions. What comes instead is a soft sigh, then a matching little smile. Xavier lowers his head, bangs brushing against your temple and forehead finding yours – he nuzzles your face, letting his nose rub gently against the slope of yours.
“You are very pretty,” he mimics, breath tickling your lips.
It’s a standard confession. Plain, simple, expected. One he has made before, probably countless times, under different skies and weathers. Still, it makes you blush way harder than usual – you feel the heat on your ears and cheeks, eyes opening wide unconsciously, mouth going slightly agape.
That seems to satisfy your partner. Xavier doubles down, letting his lips brush yours as he says, “You are very, very, pretty.”
With a gentle giggle at the breath you take in, he lets his mouth wander, kissing right below the jut of your lower lip, then the curve of your chin. His hair still tickles your face when he comes further up, kissing your nose and cheeks, your eyebrows and eye lids, whispering ‘pretty’ each and every single time his lips found your face.
It makes you blush further, a deeper crimson spreading all the way down to your neck. Still, despite the sheepishness that came with Xavier’s undivided attention, you meet his eyes when he stops to look back at you.
“Right, my love, aren’t you pretty?”
“Stop that,” you squeak, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.
Xavier’s eyes shine brighter and you feel his smile growing wider under your fingers. A quick flash of evol reflecting on his teeth catches your eyes before you feel him gently nibbling your ring finger. “Pretty,” he mumbles right after, releasing the digit and leaving a small peck where his teeth had been. “So pretty.”
Heat starts building up again inside of you as he keeps his mischievous mouth moving, letting your fingers tangle on his bangs as he closes his eyes, face travelling further down. Your breath falters at the sensation of his lips against your wrist, right above your pulse point, and you can’t control the gasp when he sucks lightly at the skin.
“Xavie!” you protest, trying to get your breathing to stabilize.
“Yes, pretty?” comes the answer, paired with another low giggle.
Xavier is quick to hold your arm as soon as he feels you trying to pull it away, keeping it pressed close against his face. He doesn’t stop his kisses, getting all the way down to your elbow before opening his eyes again.
Blue meets you again, and this time, the light of his evol reflects a darker shade. Somewhere, your brain notes that Xavier is also having trouble with his breathing, lower lip dropping slightly to let out warm pants on your arm.
“You are gorgeous,” he whispers. This time, his voice holds something else, something deeper. Gone is the gentle teasing, gone are the attempts to make you blush. This time, Xavier’s words carry weight and a nameless emotion with them. They reach you like a summer breeze, brightening, refreshing and needed.
He means it. And you believe him.
“Yes,” you whisper back, moving your wrist to caress the soft strands of silver right above the tips of your fingers. Mimicking, or confessing, you tell him, “You are gorgeous.”
Xavier smiles, and if you had been having issues breathing, now you feel straight up out of air.
He leaves one last peck on your skin before moving up, bringing his face back to your eye level. Following the movement of his body, you let your hand rest on the slope of his neck.
“Hi, gorgeous,” he greets you.
It’s your turn to smile, a warm feeling spreading around your chest. “Hi, gorgeous.”
Once again, you’re both left under the dim light of his evol. The little specks of light reflect on his eyes and hair, but above all, they showcase his body.
Xavier had been shirtless for a few hours, just like you. However, now, with him supporting himself on top of you, arms flexing involuntarily from the strain, you can’t help the way your eyes wander.
Following the tendon on his neck, your eyes map the soft protrusion of his collarbone, then the slope between his pecks. Unashamedly, your gaze falls onto the curve of his chest and the pinkish skin of his nipples – all of it bathed in dim, warm lighting that accentuates every rise and fall of his skin.
“Just a second ago,” Xavier’s voice has your eyes quickly going back to his face, “You were blushing at being praised.”
A sheepish smile reaches your lips, “I did tell you before that everything about you is pretty.”
He hums, feigning contemplation, then slowly bends down to rub the tip of his nose against yours, “Do I get staring privileges too?”
There's a short pause while the gears turn in your head. Right before all this, you and Xavier had been spending some quality time together. And by “quality” you mean both of you had been kissing, groping and almost dry humping on the bed.
You both hadn't ever gone further than this, but, today, maybe…
“Do you want staring privileges?” is what you end up asking, eyes locking onto his and teeth coming down to worry your lower lip. It's close enough to your actual question that Xavier is sure to understand, right?
“I do.” He tells you without missing a beat, holding your gaze with the same calmness and certainty he shows in front of a Wanderer.
“Then, you have them.”
Xavier watches you for a second more, eyes shifting to show an emotion you take a beat too long to realize is mirth. He then lowers his head further, lips coming to brush against your ear, “But what if I'm greedy, baby?”
Trying to suppress the shiver that is threatening to run down your entire body at his whispered voice so close to your neck, you turn your head slightly, enough so you could press a gentle kiss to his temple, "Be as greedy as you want.”
That seems to be all the confirmation he needs. Xavier fully turns his head to meet your kiss, mouth falling over yours easily. His lips hold the same softness and gentleness of his words, but they heighten the mischievousness Xavier reserves only to you, they tease and pull at your own, sucking gently at the pinkish skin every so often. The air in the room shifts slightly, growing warmer and more urgent by the second.
With a low groan, Xavier changes his weight to his elbows, chest and belly coming down to fully press against you. His skin feels hotter than before and he takes the little gasp you let out from the contact as an invitation to deepen the kiss.
“Xa-mhn!” You try calming him down, but his name barely leaves your mouth before he is moving again, legs sliding up the bed to bend yours as he settles right in the middle.
“You said,” Xavier mumbles against you, lips traveling down to your cheeks and neck, “I could be greedy.”
“Yes, but–,” another gasp interrupts your train of thought when Xavier sucks the skin right below your ear. A mere gasp doesn’t seem to satisfy him though, as he keeps teasing the sensitive spot until a sound akin to a mewl escapes you.
He turns the teasing into a mission to find and mark each sensitive spot down your jaw and neck, groaning, satisfied, every time you fail to control a sound. By the time you feel his weight shifting again and a hand teasing the strap of your bra, your brain is already halfway turned into mush, nerve endings sensitive and attuned to each and every stroke of Xavier’s lips.
“I’m touching you,” comes the mumbled warning, right before his palm cups one of your breasts. With or without the warning, your body responds to him, curving up towards his touch, fingers flying to hold onto his arm and back.
He looks up to find your eyes, glossed over and needy, probably a mirror of his own and then lowers himself further, letting his kisses trail down your collarbone to the swell of your chest. After softly marking the skin right beside it, Xavier closes his lips around your nipple and gives it a gentle suck, tongue rubbing over the bud – at the whine that escapes you, his ministrations gain more urgency.
While his mouth is busy with your chest, Xavier’s hands start roaming freely. They probe and squeeze at every inch of supple skin they can get access to, from the softness of your arms, to the rolls on your waist, then down to your plump thighs. You can only fight to keep your breathing in check during his exploration, failing to control small whines and pleas as Xavier seems keen on mapping every curve of your body with his fingertips.
“Xavier…”
“If I could,” he releases your nipple with a pop, his irregular breathing warms your skin when he rests his forehead on your chest, “I’d make a you-shaped egg tart. I’d eat so many of those they'd run out of ingredients to sell me.”
His hands find your thighs again, squeezing and pulling them further apart. Before you can come up with an answer, Xavier continues, “I’d hire the best painter in the world, have you all over my walls… He wouldn’t live long, though.” Xavier moves to nibble at your skin, grumbling at his own thoughts, “The best sculptor and poet… I’d surround myself in you, and only you.”
Your squirm as his teeth keep worrying new red marks, “You can’t… Go around killing random painters, Xavie.”
He huffs, and you can feel the smile that reaches his lips before he answers, “That’s right… So,” Xavier looks up at you, “You need to take responsibility and fill all those voids.”
Meeting his gaze, you can’t help the blush that spreads all the way down your neck and even though you want to give him a confession as pretty and elaborate as his, your hands fly up to hide your face and the only thing you manage to mumble is a tiny, “That’s embarrassing…”
His chuckle reaches you before his lips, gentle kisses pepper your fingers until they uncover your face. Xavier’s eyes meet yours once more – that’s when you realize the little light orbs have multiplied, they now hover all around you.
“Too bad,” he whispers, leaving one more peck at your lips. You feel the hand that had been holding your thigh move, caressing your skin until it gets dangerously close to the hem of your underwear, “I want to do something even more embarrassing.”
Heat flows down your spine once more, tiny hairs rising at the prospect of having him touching you. Your hand goes back to holding his arm, more of an anchoring point than anything else, and you nod against his lips.
“Yeah?” Xavier chuckles again, “I haven’t asked but you’re already telling me yes?”
He keeps his lips feather light against your cheeks as you feel the tip of a finger reach under the elastic of your panties, “Here? I can touch you here?”
You moan an affirmation before he lets the elastic snap back. “So pretty,” Xavier whispers, thumb moving to reach the top of your mound, gently caressing you through the fabric, “So pliant.”
Happy with the compliments, you open your legs wider, letting them rest above his spread knees and rolling your hips to show him that not only was this okay, but you also wanted him to keep going. “Please,” you beg him.
Xavier nuzzles you, humming at the breath you take when his thumb brushes past your clit. He does it again, and again, until your hips start twitching in time with the roll of his finger. “Harder,” you plead, trying to get him to stay right on top of that sensitive nub.
To your surprise, he doesn’t comply, taking off his thumb completely. You’re ready to protest when you feel three fingers reaching under the top of your panties. Without missing a beat, Xavier pushes down the fabric. A sense of urgency overcomes you and you’re quick to lower your own hand and help take out the fabric when the angle gets it stuck on your hip. With shaky breaths, you realize you really need his fingers touching you properly, untying that knot that formed somewhere inside.
“Come on,” you tell him, reaching for his cheek and bringing his lips back to yours, “Touch me.”
This time, he does. His middle and ring finger trace a gentle path down your pussy, more exploratory than intentional on the way they greet you. He repeats the motion a few times before curving them slightly, applying pressure right underneath your clit. You gasp, releasing his lips, when he uses that same pressure to circle the nub, letting them rest on the hood, before going down again.
“Yes,” you nod, eyes falling shut, “That’s good.”
He kisses you again, drinking every gasp and moan as he keeps his movements. Xavier maps out the shape of your sex, testing out where and how he should press and how much he could pull on the skin before you protested.
As a result, your brain grows fuzzier by the second, dizzy at having someone other than yourself truly taking the time to learn how to make your body respond.
“Here,” he mumbles, before using his fingers to scissor your clit, “You like this and…” Xavier moves to press harder on the hood, squishing you down and making your hips shake, “You also like this.”
Fingers digging into his shoulder, you pant against his mouth. Yes, yes you do like that. How he figured that out in such a short time, you didn’t know, but right now you can feel a droplet of slick escaping to run down towards the bed and you really, really, want to feel him push that back in.
Xavier somehow reads your mind, middle finger venturing down to press over your hole. “Here?”
Another chuckle reaches you when you nod, before that gentle pressure grows in weight. With a sigh – yours or his you also don’t know – the first knuckle of his finger slips inside.
“So warm,” he groans, voice strained, “Wanna fuck you so bad.”
That adds to the mushiness of your brain, and you whine at the thought of having him, all of him, inside.
“Yeah? You’d like that?” Xavier pushes further in, testing out the give of your already sopping wet walls, seemingly satisfied, he fits another finger alongside the first. “You want my cock instead of my fingers?”
You nod, or try to, looking down to see how easily his fingers disappear before he pulls them out, then all the way back in.
“Too bad, bunny,” he whispers, “I need to feel you cumming on my fingers first.”
Xavier curves the digits then, and you feel that pressure towards your navel as he drags them down.
“Oh, fuck,” you rush to hold his arm one more time, head falling back on the pillow. Xavier lets his palm press on your clit as he repeats the dragging motion inside, crushing, at once, all of your most sensitive nerve endings.
You’re probably whining too loudly, moaning his name in time with the pace he sets, but who cares about neighbors anyway when you have Xavier’s long, thick fingers playing you with the same precision he does the piano?
“There you go, baby,” he murmurs, “So pretty. So wet, fuck–”
He drags his fingers with more force, stopping right above that spongy spot to bully it with rubs. The heel of his hand catches on the underside of your clit and you want to scream – brain foggy, filled with the need to cum, to rut against his hand, to have him inside, to…
“So pretty,” Xavier repeats, nibbling your jaw. He too sounds out of breath, matching your moans with low whines of his own, “If you look this good using my fingers, you will kill me when you cum around my cock.”
“Stop–” talking, is what you want to say, but Xavier seems intent on draining you of all coherence.
“Don’t fight it. Come on,” his hand drags on your clit again, “Just feel good. Rub on me and get yourself off.”
Your hips start rutting against his hand, matching the drag and pull of his fingers inside. Wet squelches reach your ears, and a sob leaves you when Xavier doesn’t change anything, let’s his hand and your body work together to untie that knot.
“F–ah! Cum, wanna cum…”
“Please,” he groans, “Gonna give you more, anything you want. So just cum for me, come on.”
To the press of his pads and the heel of his hand, you cum around his fingers, vision turning white for a few seconds. You writhe as the waves hit you, and whine when he doesn’t let up, milking your orgasm until your noises dip into overstimulation.
Xavier coos you through it, kissing your cheeks and forehead. When he feels you stop twitching around him, he takes out the fingers, but keeps them roaming around your pussy, feeling the supple, swollen skin and the way it gives way to him.
“Good girl,” you hear, still trying to find your thoughts back. “Gorgeous girl.”
When your eyes meet again, dazed and happy, you see reflected in sky blue all those light specks floating around the room and with them comes a certainty that this one star would give you everything he promised – and more.
Pairing: Sylus x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 2.8k
CW/Tags: smut; masturbation; vaginal fingering; getting caught; pillow humping; dirty talk; teasing; plot what plot
Read on AO3
Labored breaths echo around the room, rhythmic and constant. They whisper something hidden into the night, something meant for only one pair of crimson eyes. A currently absent pair of crimson eyes.
Sylus’ bed is still made. The curtains are drawn shut like always and his bedroom is kept dimly lit, only a few candles scattered around, paired with the nightstand’s lampshade.
Everything smells familiar, his bedsheets, his pillow, as well as the black robe folded beneath you, strategically placed so that your nose could be buried in a scent that, right now, you miss more than you'd be willing to admit.
He told you he would be away for around three days – first for an auction on an island too far to take you, then for a short hunt in a new protofield he had mapped. ‘Small and quick work’, as he had called it.
You had told him that you could handle three days by yourself, confidently smiling back at his raised eyebrow and teasing chuckle. Despite having spent most of your days with him for the past year, you were used to living alone, so you could do it. Of course you could. No problem at all.
Turns out you couldn't.
With your phone’s screen brightness set to low, your eyes scan one of the many pictures you had saved of your boyfriend. Your iris follows his strong jawline, thin upper lip and cushy lower one – quickly mapping his high cheekbones and strong nose, mouth letting out a strained sigh at the perfect curve of his bridge. Fuck, you missed that. The feeling of the tip of his nose teasing you while his tongue probed inside, solid bridge paired with soft muscle and a rumbling voice groaning into you.
The last place your gaze settles on are his eyes – crimson, deep and sharp. Watching the camera lens as if seeing through it, as if he could somehow see you right now, naked, sweaty, flushed above his bed and his pillows, humping one of them like your life depends on it.
Your hips twitch up and away from the desperate hand that is hidden between the pillow and your body. A string of translucent fluid still connects your middle and index finger to the wet skin of your pussy, and that same liquid now stains one of Sylus’ favorite pillows.
“Fuck,” you mutter, word slurred against black linen, “Not enough…”. And it's not. It hasn't been enough for the best part of the last hour if you were being honest. Fingers outside, inside, rubbing, grinding, pinching – no matter what you did and how many orgasms you wrung out of yourself, none of them made you reach the high you were chasing.
Letting your waist fall back into your hand, you roll against the soft pads of your fingers. Once, twice, three times and then you huff, angry and frustrated.
That's not what you need. You don't need the softness of your hand, nor the inhumane girth of a silicon toy. You need a strong, calloused palm, rubbing precise circles over sensitive skin. You need long fingers that reach deep and that curve and grind exactly where it itches. You need…
“Sylus,” his name comes out of your mouth in a strangled moan. Your hips twitch once more, a thread of want waving itself down your spine.
You imagine his crimson eyes looking at you, predatory as he watches from the edge of the bed the way you grind pathetically against your own hand. He would probably chuckle, or hum and say something about how he found a kitten in heat – then he would fuck you, slow, deep, dragging…
“Sylus,” comes your next sob, a mix of desire and despair staining your voice. “Sylus… Sylus…” your fingers work faster around your clit, hips raising off the pillow to grant you more access, but it's useless, that's not what you need, not who you need. “Sylus…”
“Yes, kitten?”
Fuck, you must be hallucinating. His voice sounds so close, so real, but there’s no way it’s him, no way because… He has locked himself inside a damn protofield to hunt for whatever Wanderer had caught his eye. “Fuck,” you mutter, a bit angrier than before, frustration pilling up, “Sylus…”
Agonizingly, your hips fall back towards the bed, waist mimicking the circles your pads had been rubbing above your clit. A sob leaves you when the high you had been chasing starts to fade.
“No, no… Fuck,” two of your fingers find your hole, pressing inside with no resistance at all. You try to emulate what he would do, curving them down towards your navel, searching for that sweet pressure spot that would lead to a decent orgasm.
“You need to go deeper, sweetie.”
“I know, but I can’t, I–”
Wait.
Who were you answering right now? That… That sounded a bit too real to be a hallucination. The rumble of the voice too familiar, too present, reverbing around the bedroom as if…
With a gasp, your fingers slip out of yourself, head turning around with enough speed to make you dizzy. Using both arms to raise your torso, your eyes search behind you for the source of that voice – rapidly scanning the dimly lit space.
Surely enough, crimson eyes meet yours. There, propped against the door, is the source of your frustration, wearing the same dark coat he had left with and a brown sweater set you had never seen before underneath.
“Took you long enough,” he smirks, gaze traveling from your propped up ass to your curved back, then finally meeting yours.
Blood drains from your face, embarrassment mixed up with confusion prompting you to bring a hand to cover your chest, out of all things. “How–, What?”
“The hunt was boring,” Sylus tilts his head, fingers drumming over his closed arms. “I sent Mephisto over to let you know I'd be back earlier than expected, but he couldn't reach you.” His eyes travel around your naked body once more, expression turning predatory, “Now I know why.”
All the blood that had left rushes back to your cheeks at the implication that Mephisto had been flying around the house while you were busy wringing orgasms out of yourself. Your mouth opens and closes as you watch Sylus’ amused face and try to come up with a smart – or at least decent – retort.
“By all means,” Sylus beats you to it, hand releasing his forearm to gesture towards your body, “Continue.”
There's a pause while your brain tries to catch up with everything. Sylus is here. Not only here as in, the vicinity, but also here as in ‘has been here for a while’, most likely long enough to watch as you pitifully ground against your hand and his pillow for the best part of the last thirty minutes.
The surprise and embarrassment weight down on a part of your brain that wants to stop – the same part that is telling you to find refugee in the bathroom and pout your way into him not mentioning it again and fucking you properly later. However, there’s a second part of your brain that is doing its best to replace the shame with a rush of dopamine. After all, he’s here. Sylus, whose name you had been desperately chanting and asking for is here, in front of you, and he’s telling you to continue.
He must notice the way your eyes gloss over as the rush of excitement slowly replaces your shock, because Sylus throws you another smirk and leans back fully against the closed door. “I will even help you,” he whispers, rolling his shoulders to let his coat fall open, ”It wouldn’t be fair to leave such a hopeless kitten to fend for herself.”
His words work like a gentle spell, allowing your body to warm up again inch by inch, from head to toe, that same feeling from before comes back – a want, a need.
You become acutely aware of the way your position forces your pelvis down into the pillow, his pillow, and of how Sylus’ point of view gives him front row access to the wet mess in between your legs. He can probably see just how needy you had been, how much you wanted him to be home, to be there with you, to please you…
Releasing the breath you had been holding, you realize the hand you had used to cover your chest is now pressing against it, aiming for friction against your nipples.
“That’s it,” comes his voice again, and your eyes fall closed when a shiver runs down your body at the deep timbre, “Fall back into that adorable hazy state I found you in.”
A pathetic moan escapes your lips when your body involuntarily presses down on the pillow. The wet roughness of the fabric dragging right above your clit feels so good that your mouth opens slightly, eyebrows scrunching into concentration. That same hand that had been toying with your chest reaches the bed instead, providing full support to your waist and it bears down again, rolling up and down slowly.
“Hah, fuck…” you whine, legs spreading wider to allow you to fully grind against the pillow between them. With more room, the hardened nub of your clit finally finds the fabric directly, grinding down before your sensitive body twitches up and away. The zap of pleasure that flashes through you is so good that your mind blanks, repeating the motion again, then again, bending your back to tortuously increase the pressure. “‘s good…” comes your slurred mumble, “So good, Sylus.”
You take in a breath at the same time a loud exhale reaches your ears – opening your eyes a little, you dazedly watch Sylus’ hands rushing down to his pants, long fingers squeezing a very clear bulge straining against his navel.
“Keep going,” he tells you in a hushed tone, eyes focused on what is probably a dirty display of your cunt spread wide, clit squished by the black pillow.
Head falling down between your shoulders, you roll your hips one more time, shuddering as those delicious zaps of overstimulation numb your brain further, “I thought–ah… I thought you said you’d help.”
Sylus whispers something under his breath and you hear the sound of his hand slipping under the elastic of his sweater pants. “Do you need me to teach you how to grind yourself against a pillow, kitten? You seem to already know how to do that.”
You push your body back and forth to the sound of his voice, leg muscles squeezing in time with your hole. Yes, that would do it, as long as he… “Keep talking,” you whine, bearing down more forcefully into the pillow.
A squelch reaches your ears right before a low groan. Without stopping your rocking on the fabric, you look back towards the door once more and the sight of Sylus’ wet, reddened cock disappearing and reappearing between his closed fingers greets you. This time, your hole clenches painfully, mouth hanging fully open as you let out a meek, “Fuck.”
“I will,” Sylus promises, crimson eyes meeting yours briefly, before snapping back to your ass, “I will take my time and do just that. But now,” he lowers his voice, hand slowing down to work over his cock at the same pace you had set on the pillow, “Now I need you to finish what you started.” He almost growls that last part, face dusted a light red.
At his commanding tone, a new wave of heat courses through you, slick running down your pussy to pool on the ruined fabric. Breathing out a curse, you allow yourself to surrender – you need to cum so, so badly, you’d do anything at this point. Bowing down to let your face press against the sheets, you fully present yourself to him, one hand sneaking over the curve of your back and ass, while the other tightly grips the top of the pillow.
Sylus hums, approvingly, when two of your fingers find their way back to your hole. The position is awkward, but your brain urges you to continue as your legs spread on their own accord, trembling to support your lower half.
Curving down the digits to try and breach that first ring of muscles proves to be an impossible task – your arm and fingers are too short, too clumsy, – but even this lackluster stimulation provides enough pleasure to make your hips twitch onto the pillow again, grinding your clit at the same time that your fingers fight to stretch your opening.
“Fuck,” you curse again, voice down to a tiny whine, “Can’t… P-properly…”
“Poor kitten,” Sylus groans, sounding out of breath, “You’ve made a mess but it seems you can’t even fuck yourself.”
You groan back, or try to, mind stuck on the short up-and-down routine your hips have started. It feels good, that tiny, barely there, pressure your fingers can provide. If only they were longer… Firmer…
“You started this, kitten,” Sylus grits through his teeth. The sound of his palm around his length grows louder and more urgent, “I’m already inside your trap. So, be good.”
Of course you want to, you are trying to. But, right now, you can’t. Your brain is in overdrive, needing something to fill you, to scratch that itch deep inside, way further than your fingers can reach. Your heart pounds as you messily move over the wet fabric, chasing both feelings and being satisfied by neither.
“Grind down,” Sylus whispers, sucking in a breath, “Spread yourself for me, baby. Let me see that cute, tiny, hole begging for me while you hump my pillow like a kitten in heat.”
You rush to comply, the hand that had been trying to plug your hole coming up to spread your ass, fingers still close pressed enough to stretch the sensitive skin of your perineum. With that, you have more room to properly grind down, hips picking back a relentless pace over the pillow.
“Yes, just like that.”
The room is filled with the sound of fabric rustling and wet squelches. You are not sure which are from you and which are from Sylus as they both mingle together, in a similar way to your groans and whines. Desperate, you bite down on the sheets, breath coming in quick puffs of air.
“You’re…” Sylus’ voice breaks through the depraved symphony, “Begging for my cock, sweetie. Your hole opens with each drag of your hips over my pillow.”
Embarrassment makes your ears shine a shade redder. If you were slightly more sane you’d throw back a sneaky remark to shut him up. Right now, though, you can only cry out and grind harder, brain mushy and pliant.
“I wish I was feeling that in my mouth,” Sylus continues, seemingly also locked in a daze, “Perfect pussy humping my tongue. Taking what you need… And I’d give you. You know that, right, kitten?” His voice strains as his hand pumps faster, matching your pace. “I’d give you anything.”
You mindlessly nod against the sheets, hand gripping your flesh harder. The weight of his gaze on you feels heavier, needier, as if he was right behind you, not all the way down to the door. You swear you can almost taste his scent, feel his groans rumbling through you. He’d eat you out so well, so perfectly…
“You like that idea?” Sylus hisses, palm coming down harder against himself, skin slapping against skin. “Coming on my tongue, then letting me fuck you dumb? Stretching that sweet hole around my cock and crying out all pretty while I give you exactly what you need? Fuck. You do. You’re leaking on the bed.”
With a whine, your eyes roll back, “Cum… Gonna cum, Sylus.”
“Come on, kitten,” he groans, and you can sense his orgasm is also close by the urgency in his voice, “Cum for me, show me.”
It hits you harder than any other in the past hour, crashing white hot all at once, locking your body into a shaking state – legs tight around his pillow, hand bruising your ass and voice echoing around the room in countless cries.
Sylus follows, probably. Somewhere, your brain registers the deep rumble of his own voice as he watches you ride wave after wave of pleasure, whining pitifully against the ruined sheets and robe.
After what must be a few seconds, but was maybe more than a minute, you feel a weight pressing down the mattress, then the rustle of fabric as the coat Sylus had on appears in your field of view. Soon, hands way bigger than yours cage your head and a familiar heat presses against your still propped up ass.
“I hope,” comes Sylus voice, still breathy, but undoubtedly closer, “You didn’t tire yourself out.” His lips come closer to your ear, and your brain threatens to enter a frenzy again at the prospect of a touch after so long. “You still owe me at least two more.”
Pairing: Sylus x MC
Rate: Explicit
CW/Tags: awkward talks; face riding; cunnilingus; teasing; plot what plot
Read on AO3
"Sylus..."
"Kitten."
"That was a drunken joke, why are you taking it seriously?"
"Oh? I didn't think you'd be one to jokingly announce your fantasies."
"I–," but there's no possible retort. Sylus is winning this one.
You and Tara had done some... Considerable drinking a few days back. And Sylus had arrived at your front door just as you and her were discussing the uses of a big nose.
Earth should've opened up and swallowed you whole before you squealed about your dream of riding one. Alas, it didn't. So now here you were.
"The faster you get on with it, the faster we can have some... fun."
You let out a muffled groan on your palms, feeling embarrassed. And not because of his eavesdropping, but because now Sylus wanted you to...
"Ride my nose, kitten. Whatever that might mean."
A puddle. You would love to shapeshift into a puddle and evaporate.
"Sylus..."
"How many times are you going to say my name? You know there's an easy solution for your inner turmoil."
A defeated sigh leaves your lips and you lower your hands to look up at him.
Sylus is sprawled on his bed, two pillows supporting his neck and a relaxed smile on his face. His hands thrum against his belly, reminding you once again that he intended for you to step in.
With another sigh, you let your knees get you up on the bed. Sylus watches your movements like a cat would watch a wandering mouse.
He raises one hand to tap the tip of his nose, smile turning into a knowing smirk when you flush a shade darker. "Here," he shows you, "You're meant to get here."
Electricity joins the shame on your veins. Sylus had eaten you out before, and you knew he had been throughout enough to memorize all of your weak spots.
This made the prospect of showing him what you meant by "riding his nose" an exciting one, despite the rawness with which Sylus dealt with the situation.
"Close your eyes," you ask him. And Sylus meets your gaze for a few seconds before complying.
With another shaky breath, you crawl over his body, positioning your hips right above his face.
"'Riding' is more like rubbing in this case..." you explain, untying your robe and slowly spreading your thighs, "Your... nose, should work more like something solid that I can... Rut against?"
"You sound certain, kitten" Sylus chuckles, and you feel the warmth of his breath reaching you.
"From what I heard!" you let your fingers anxiously thread through his bangs, "I've never done this either."
Sylus hums, and his hands find your heels, big fingers kneading gentle circles into your skin.
"And my tongue?" he asks, feigning nonchalance.
"I-Inside."
This time he groans, adjusting the position of his neck. You watch a faint blush spread on his cheeks, probably from his brain providing clear images of what you had just described.
"Open," you instruct, and Sylus surprisingly complies. Lips opening on your demand.
You bring your hips lower, wider around his face, "Tongue out"
You feel more than you see the moist heat of his tongue below you and with a final deep breath, you let yourself sit.
A soft moan leaves your lips at the soft wetness that meets you, Sylus' tongue long enough to cushion your entire pussy.
Both of you give experimental thrusts, and you create a slow rhythm over his mouth.
"Just-ah... Just do it normally first."
Sylus answers with a questioning hum.
"Suck, like you usually do..."
Sylus' tongue retreats and you feel the vibration of his groan when his lips close around your clit.
You let your head fall back, eyes closing at the feeling of lips working over you. Sylus lets his tongue tap gently at your clit with every suck and your hips buck towards his mouth.
"Yeah," your breath starts to quicken, body reacting to his ministrations, "You're good at that."
Sylus keeps a slow pace, enough to raise that fire inside of you and keep you on edge, walls clenching, empty, with slick running down your pussy towards his chin.
Looking down, his eyes are still tightly closed, but the blush has spread to his ears. Sylus looks less like the N109's leader like this and more like an eager lover, concentrated, devoted.
Letting your fingers close on his hair, you bring your hips slightly up, and Sylus follows, diligently, until there's no more room for movement. He lets go of your clit with a pop and scrunched eyebrows.
"Kitt–"
"I'll rub on your nose," you warn him, "Then down to your lips. You can have your fun with what you can reach."
His mouth curves into a smirk, before opening to let his tongue poke out.
You give him a few seconds to adapt, before you lower yourself on him, hands anchoring on his head.
Almost instinctively, your hips curve so your clit can catch on the tip of his nose, then twitch down, to rub on his upper lip.
Sylus lets his tongue reach you, matching, with scary accuracy, the sway of your body over his.
Heat grows inside of you, his nose proving to be perfect for what you were doing – long, sturdy and close enough to his mouth that you were barely left with any room to breathe.
Your moans echo around his bedroom, harmonizing, in what can only be described as a fithly rythm, with Sylus' own groans.
His hands travel up your legs, then up your ass and back, pressing down on soft skin, leaving gentle handprints as reminders for the morning the come.
Eventually, his tongue finds your hole, circling it, pushing in, then out.
Wet noises fill the room with your whines, "Yes, Sylus, yes, yes, yes–"
Sylus bends his neck, pressing up into you, letting his tonghe go in as far as it could and his nose squeeze into the skin right above your clit.
You keen and he groans into you, hands coming around your waist to hold you still against him.
Feeling the heavy weight of his gaze, you look down. Deep red meets you, his right eye shining brightly, matching the crimson of his cheeks and ears.
Your breath falters, belly squeezing and Sylus answers with another groan, the deepness of it reverbarting inside of you.
"Heavens..." you mumble, lightheaded.
He has the audacity of chuckling with his tongue inside of you and you let that be your fuel to chase your orgasm.
Holding his hair tighter, your rub circles over him, mindlessly seeking what your know Sylus will give you.
You let your hips create rythm over his face again, and Sylus follows suit. His tongue travels up and down your cunt, dipping inside randomly, tasting you.
And you use him, his nose, his lips, his groans. You let that consume you, bring you closer to the edge and threaten to spill.
Over and over and over again.
Sylus hands find their way back to your ass and he takes two handfuls, squeezing the flesh enoigh to serve as handles, which he uses to guide you on his tongue.
"Come on, kitten," he mumbles against you, mouth pressed over your hole, "Be good."
Your eyes roll back and you buck your hips faster against him, heat a crescendo inside of you.
As you reach your orgasm, your press down on his nose, hard, unrelenting and your entire body shakes as that sends you over the edge.
Sylus keeps your there, strong hands holding you through it, tongue now gentle, precise, to allow you to ride it slowly.
After a few seconds, you become aware of your heart thundering against your ribs, as well as the fact that your probably smothering your partner.
Sylus helps your raise your shaky hips, and you look down once more to meet his gaze.
Pairing: Xavier x MC
Rate: Explicit
Word count: 1.8k
CW/Tags: 69 of course; mouth fucking; cunnilingus; dirty talk; teasing; reminders of safe words; begging; semi-public sex? if u squint; plot what plot
Read on AO3
Xavier’s groans match yours perfectly
A filthy symphony of muffled whines, paired with the wet sounds of his mouth meeting your cunt and your lips wrapped around his length.
The association’s new yoga room was always empty at this hour. Most employees had already left, and all but one floor had their lights entirely off. The training rooms were scattered around the building, but the relaxation rooms were all side by side on the second floor.
That’s where you and Xavier had agreed to meet at. You wanted to stretch and he wanted an extra nap – and, given that the street fair that was happening right outside your apartments was not inviting to either of those activities, both of you had settled on a late night at the office.
At first, you stretched diligently, just like how you had planned. But after a few minutes of bending this way and that way, your partner's presence in the room became a much more interesting factor.
Xavier was not sleeping, you could clearly tell. His breathing was much too uneven and his eyelids kept shaking every time you looked his way – as if they had just closed.
Which is why, after pondering the consequences for exactly two seconds, you decide to surprise him.
Keeping your eyes on his form, laid face up on one of the tiny yoga mattresses, you swiftly pull down your shorts, then your panties. Xavier senses your eyes on him and keeps his own closed, feigning sleep.
Without much thought you also bring your oversized shirt over your head, leaving you naked in the warmly lit room.
There were no security cameras inside the workout rooms, which allowed you to confidently stride towards your partner. Hooking a leg over his body, you crawl until you're face to face with his navel, your own core hovering over his mouth.
“Partner.” you call out, voice low. “Won't you help me stretch?”
You feel the way Xavier stirs, his hands opening and closing over his belly. Then, the vibration of his voice as a moan resonates around the room.
“Am I dreaming?” Xavier mumbles, hands coming up to caress your thighs.
You playfully shake your ass, bending your back so your nose was left inches from Xavier’s hardening cock, “Were you ever even asleep?”
Xavier’s fingers dig into the supple skin of your thighs, pulling you further down. When he speaks, you can feel the warmth of his breath over you, “Can't remember.”
With a chuckle, you bring your hands to palm at the front of his sweatpants, deftly untying the strings.
“Up, big boy,” you instruct, pulling his pants as far down as you could. Xavier's cock bobs free, fully hard already.
“Someone's eager.”
“I open my eyes and there's my favorite meal right in front of me,” Xavier brings his face closer to you, biting softly at the underside of your thighs, “‘Eager’ doesn't cut it.”
You smile again, opening your legs wider so you can comfortably stay above him, then, you bend down to place a gentle kiss on his tip.
Opening your mouth, you lick a short stripe below his head, feeling the way his muscles contract below you, “I'm starting.”
Xavier mumbles something on your skin, but you're too focused to care. After another wet lick, you close your mouth around his tip, sucking gently on the sensitive skin.
Another moan echoes around the empty room as you start setting a pace, head bobbing up and down just enough to let you suck around his head, tasting Xavier’s saltiness and a hint of your body wash.
You feel his hand moving to your waist, kneading at the curve of it, before Xavier's tongue finds you. You hum around his cock, hips jumping slightly at the wet feeling of his lips kissing your lower lips.
Xavier lets his tongue roam over your cunt, circling your clit, then pressing right above it. Your eyes roll back when he finally brings it up to your hole.
Around his cock, you keep messily sucking his tip, lips closed tight right below the crown, pressing constantly over the swell of it. Spit starts to pool and run down his length, but you don't bring your lips further, letting your tongue tease his slit instead, coaxing more of his pre.
Xavier is growing impatient. You can tell by the way his thigh muscles are contracting, and the way the hand he had on your waist comes down to grab the handles around your hips, pulling your body closer to his face.
His tongue traces broad paths from your hole to your clit, saliva mixing with your own fluids, and you can't help the way your body rolls gently over his mouth.
You bring one of your hands to hold the base of his cock, fingers quickly getting wet. With a pop, you release his cockhead, and you let your lips travel down his length, sucking gently at the reddening skin.
Xavier groans, letting go of your pussy to bounce his head back against the mattress, “Starlight,” he begs, voice rough.
Your answer is a hum, fingers travelling to his balls just as your lips close around his head again. You're gentle with your exploration, enjoying the heaviness and heat of his tip over your tongue. It's so soft, a barely pliable hardness that allowed your tongue to trace any pattern it wanted.
You keep lightly sucking only his head, drooling down his cock without much care.
It's almost therapeutic, you think, the way he twitches under your fingertips, precum overflowing over your tongue, muffled whines being breathed so close to your cunt. You feel yourself growing wetter, mind dizzy from teasing Xavier like this.
Eventually, he snaps.
Xavier's body bends, curving your spine with it, and his hands find the back of your head. You moan, surprised, when he pushes your head down, hips coming up to fill your mouth.
“Three taps,” Xavier reminds you, panting heavily at the feeling of your mouth engulfing him, “Open up.”
Your eyes roll back, but you understand what he wants. Letting your jaw go slack, you allow him to start thrusting into your mouth, cock rubbing over your tongue.
It's filthy, the way you can hear him fucking a mix of your spit and his precum into your mouth. Anyone would think he was fucking your pussy from how wet it sounds.
His pubic hair brushes against your chin with each of his thrusts, his hands pushing your head down onto the roll of his hips. Your mind grows foggier, and you're pretty sure you're dripping down his face.
Your walls contract around nothing each time the underside of his cock brushes up against your palate, and you feel the hot air of his breathing fanning close to your pussy.
Xavier is not sucking you, too focused on fucking your mouth – but you don't blame him, the feeling of his lips brushing against you as he whines sending shivers down your spine.
Your throat pushes out groans and moans that are interrupted by his cock, and his movement grows faster.
“That's it,” Xavier whimpers, too gone to care, “That's it, take my cock.”
Your fingers dig into his leg, holding on for dear life as Xavier fucks your mouth in earnest.
“Good girl, such a good mouth, ngh–”
He holds your head steadier, letting the tip of his cock rub against the back of your tongue, hips rolling just as if he was fucking your cunt.
“Pretty lips, pretty tongue, just for me…”
You clench painfully around nothing, thighs trying to snap close. A whine leaves your throat and you feel Xavier’s breathing growing faster.
“Open… Open for me, my love,” he grits out, “I'll cum down your pretty throat.”
An encouraging moan vibrates around his cock, and you feel your belly clench. Xavier's pace starts to falter, growing hasty as he chases his orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he mumbles, nose brushing against your cunt.
With a groan, you feel his cock twitching inside of your mouth, followed by the tangy taste of his release. You let him push a few aborted thrusts, before closing your lips around his length and sucking softly.
You can feel your heartbeat on your navel, pussy wet and red with need. When Xavier moans weakly at your sucking, you take the chance to bring your hips down.
Your eyes roll back again when you feel the heat of his tongue waiting for you, waist rotating over his mouth.
Letting go of his cock once more, you use your hands to push back against his face, shamelessly rutting your pussy on his lips.
“Please…” you croak, curving your spine.
Xavier brings his hands back to your hips, guiding you further down onto him. His mouth opens and you feel him lapping up at you, gathering your slick on his tongue.
“Take what you need,” he whispers, voice rough.
So you do.
You roll your hips over his face, rubbing your pussy up and down his tongue, feeling the way his chin brushes over your clit. You fully use his face to get off, rutting on his nose and tongue without a care. Xavier would tap you if he couldn't breathe… Probably.
“Inside…” you beg, feeling your walls contract around nothing.
Xavier complies, hands spreading your ass as he pushes his tongue inside. You scream at the feeling, squeezing around soft, malleable and wet pressure.
You rut your hips up and down with short thrusts, body heating at the thought of Xavier’s tongue inside of you and at the feeling of your clit rubbing against his lower lip.
Hips growing wilder, you brace yourself on the floor, moaning out Xavier’s name without a care.
“Ri-ngh, ride… need to ride,” your body grows hotter, and Xavier is fast to comply, his tongue leaves you to spread over your cunt, and your hips work quickly against it.
“Yes… Yes, like that,” you throw your head back, “Gonna cum, yes, yes, yes–”
Your vision goes white, body contracting and relaxing around his face as your orgasm flows through you. Your hips keep the relentless rutting until you verge on overstimulation, waist raising with a quick jump.
Your breath is still erratic when you flop over Xavier, boneless.
He is not much better, chest raising fast below you and cock hard once more.
“Can't…” you mumble.
Xavier groans, then gently presses down on your spine, massaging your muscles, “I'm taking you home.”
