— Hi, my name is Bri. I also go by starsforxavi on Twitter and AO3.
— I do not take requests (though I do take commissions!)
— Xavier & Zayne main
— I post on here, Twitter, and AO3
Rules:
— Do not repost my work to other platforms
— I do have two jobs therefore answers to asks/dms on here may be sporatic
— Most of my reblogs will probably be from my queue, as I am more active on Twitter
Tags:
— #·······•✦bri.answers [answers to asks]
— #·······•✦bri.writing [my writing]
— works for love & deepspace
— labeled as follows... [smut ♛] [fluff ♡] [angst ☁]
xavier
dream vs. reality [♛♡☁]
— Soulmates meet in dreams.
One night, you see Xavier in a dream.
It's just a coincidence, right? This nagging crush, something that already seems far deeper than a cute crush, lurks beneath the surface of your thoughts. The moment you see a familiar head of silver hair after your eyes are closed? It becomes far more complicated.
smile for the camera [♛♡]
— With an impending mission that renders Xavier gone for nearly four full days, an idea you've had dancing around your head comes to fruition as a way for him to satisfy himself and have a little treat for moments like this.
From 'Princess': [7:28PM] let's put on a little show tonight, maybe make a special tape for your mission tomorrow ;)
only for you [♛♡☁]
— The Prince has a surprise for his secret lover. It's just the carriage ride is also full of surprises
just a little competition [♛♡]
— The parameters are simple:
— No touching in erogenous zones.
— No loud noises (moans, grunts, etc.)
— The loser is the first one to give in.
If Xavier wins, you must put away all your Lumiere merch, but if you win, Xavier has to wear your Lumiere outfit during sex.
Xavier is determined not to lose.
zayne
further examination [♛♡]
— It had been so long - too long - since you had the opportunity for some alone time with your boyfriend, so when he asked for help with an assignment, you became a little too excited. But all you had to do was be a good girl, and he would grant you all your wishes and more.
the sweetest bliss [♛♡]
— After going out for a bit to get ingredients for the night's dinner, Zayne is pleasantly surprised to find you in the kitchen making juice. However, it's not really what he's craving.
late night birthday present [♛♡]
— When emergency surgeries keep Zayne late at the hospital on his birthday, it's close to midnight when he arrives back home.
rafayel
no apologies [♛♡]
— This sickness has rendered you bedridden, unable to even answer the phone when your amazing boyfriend calls. and Rafayel, of course, has to check in on his girlfriend, especially when she's not answering her phone.
be a good boy [♛♡]
— With all your teasing during his art exhibition, once you're finally alone in an empty room, it doesn't make sense to just stop, especially when he looks so pretty while he begs...
always? always. [♛♡]
— Your dress getting stuck after a long performance is precisely what you need when all you want to do is collapse in your hotel room and prepare for the early flight in the morning. Luckily, you have your trusted bodyguard right outside the door who will always help you with whatever you need.
three days [♛♡]
— In which; you drive to Rafayel's house after not hearing from him for three days, just wanting to make sure he's okay...
his beloved [♛♡]
— After a long day, you surprise Rafayel with an attempt at a 'love spell', and he's more than happy to play along with his beloved. [Inspired by 'Tidefall Allure']
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
“This blindfold is ineffective, beloved.” Husky notes turn deeper in his voice, lingering on your skin like the perfume you’ve sprayed on all your pulse points. “I can see the shimmering moonlight, the endless tide, and a goddess in the flesh.”
sylus
skin to skin [♛♡]
— In which you're stuck staying in a hotel together after working with Sylus on an undercover mission in the N109 Zone, but the only available space is a room with one bed…
very important business [♛♡]
— In the wake of missions piling on your plate, all it takes is one undercover mission in the N109 Zone for you to see your beloved again, finally. But maintaining secrecy while also sneaking glances at Sylus can only go so far, and a lead to some more information brings both you and Sylus to the floors above the auction to an empty room…
déjà vu [♛♡☁]
— When it happens once, it's odd. Something you don't think much of because it's so fleeting that by the time you meet Sylus' eyes, it's gone again. But when it happens a second... and a third... There's an inexplicable pull towards moments with Sylus that have absolutely happened before, even if you don't remember them in these exact circumstances.
A trip to a field of flowers brings it all crashing down. He had horns, and a tail, and wings.
unexpected visit [♛♡☁]
— In which: Your unexpected visit to Sylus' penthouse reveals a side of him you never knew, a side that he wished to always keep hidden because he was a monster. At least, that's what he told himself. But you never thought of him that way, and you want to prove it.
late night meeting [♛♡]
— In which; it's late at night when a knock comes at your door. Sylus rarely ever gets hurt, and his injuries heal quickly, but it wouldn't hurt to indulge him for a bit...
virgin!lads
sylus
at home fashion show [♛♡]
— Sylus finds your online shopping cart of costume ideas for Tara's Halloween party, what else was he supposed to do except buy it all and have you come over for a fashion show? He had to help you pick your costume out...
rafayel
the only exception [♛♡]
— Being called over in the middle of the night by your friend Rafayel wasn't an unusual occurrence. It was unusual, however, when he asked you to be his model for a painting, letting you use his wardrobe to dress up for him, especially considering he never painted people. He insisted, though, and who were you to say no to his pleading gaze? But something was off about him; he wasn't acting like himself...
xavier
all your firsts [♛♡]
— In which Xavier hid the fact that he hated hearing about your first kiss or your past relationship, the thoughts of someone else touching you how he wanted to touch you making him clench his jaw. But you can read him like a book... And you know something is up with him...
zayne
half a heart [♛♡]
— In which; you asked zayne to accompany you to a work party, but after he got tipsy and letting you lead him back to your apartment, some feelings came bubbling up to the surface.
·······•✦ description: In which; your vampire boyfriend keeps pushing off your worry for him, but when you find him incredibly weak in bed, you figure out exactly what he needs... And you want to give it to him...
·······•✦ pairing: afab!eader x xavier
·······•✦ word count: 4k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Vampire!Xavier, Vampires, Canon Compliant, Still canon compliant, Only difference is vampires lol, Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Blood Drinking, Xavier is Hungry, Biting, Marking, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Pleasure from Blood Drinking, Multiple Orgasms, Sexual Overstimulation, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, pussy eating, Aftercare, Creampie, POV Second Person, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, Missionary Position, Sitting In Lap, Dirty Talk, Pet Names - starlight & princess
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
The first time you notice the pale tone to Xavier’s skin, he brushes it off with a simple excuse that he’s tired. Knowing what he is, the thought comes to your mind of the other things that could be going on, and you get the inkling that there’s something else than just mere exhaustion.
The second time you see the glassy glow and slightly damp expanse of his skin, you know there’s something more than meets the eye.
His apartment is at a comfortable temperature, but it’s the rise and fall of his chest, paired with the way his lips part in stuttered breaths, that has you crossing your arms, giving him a raised-eyebrow stare. “Xavier.”
“Starlight,” Xavier responds in a gentle murmur, one hand resting over his eyes.
He’s lying back on his bed, his robe half-opened to reveal the toned expanse of his chest that is glistening with a light sheen of sweat. With one hand under the pillow, he looks at you with furrowed brows.
“This isn’t just exhaustion.” The way you continue the argument—which isn’t even an argument, just you telling him an observation—leaves Xavier no choice but to drop his hand over his eyes. The hand under the pillow slips out to lie beside his head, and the other rests weakly on his half-clothed abdomen. Even his breathing is slow, and worry ebbs into your voice. “I can grab some medicine or something for you after wo-”
“I’m thirsty.” He cuts you off, not liking the tense deepness of his voice, nor the way you stare at him with wide eyes.
“Huh?” You don’t catch it the first time, his voice too quiet for you to hear through your own rambling. Dropping your arms, you chew on your bottom lip.
“I’m… thirsty,” Xavier repeats, his eyes closing as if he didn’t want to see the emotion he expects to cross your face. Throughout the year you’ve been dating, you know about his vampirism, but all Xavier expects to see when he looks at you are the emotions he’s always seen.
Disgust. Horror. Anger.
But your expression remains neutral. As if he just told you he needed a simple glass of water instead of the alternative.
“Oh.” Unsure of what to say next, you step closer, sitting on the edge of his bed. Although he doesn’t outwardly flinch away, you catch the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. “Well…”
Silence fills the air, your eyes running along his features. He looks dead. His lips are parted and chapped, his skin pale, and his chest rising and falling slowly with his uneven breaths. It worries you, and while you’re unsure of exactly how to help him, you want to come up with some sort of solution.
“Is there… is there anything I can do to help?” Your hand reaches out to touch his bicep as it rests across his abdomen, and a shiver shocks your system. He’s cold. He’s always warm… Always a personal heater that helps you in the winter months with cuddles under a plush blanket. Now, he’s like a corpse. “You’re cold.”
Xavier pauses, twitching at just how hot you feel compared to the chill that’s settled in his bones. He can’t even remember the last time he had to drink blood, but the hunger that itches in his stomach is a sense of discomfort that he can’t recall feeling. It doesn’t help that you—warm and alive—are sitting right next to him.
You, whom he’s spent the better part of two years next to. You, who remind him that he’s more than the label that many associate with vampires. You, who loves him despite all of the tumultuous realizations you’ve come to when learning about him, and doesn’t stop demanding nothing but the truth.
Xavier knows he can’t lie. You can read him like your favorite book. So he takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “I don’t— It’s been a long time— since I’ve had to feed.” He whispers, almost embarrassingly. “I can usually control my hunger with human food… You know my preference for meat.”
Humming, your thumb absentmindedly rubs at his skin in an attempt to calm him down. He’s explained before that he’s never hungry for blood, that his almost insatiable appetite for meat has somehow helped quell that quiet rumbling deep in his gut.
Even though Xavier tries to hide it behind humor, you can see the sleepy, half-lidded gaze that meets yours. It’s easy for him to smile, rub the back of his neck as if he’s not burning inside. However, he can’t stop the tremble in his hand that starts to wrap around your wrist.
“I’m fine,” he says, his voice a mere whisper of what it normally is. In the time you’ve been together, you’ve realized that he’s a pro at hiding his true emotions. He doesn’t give away too much, and it’s always in passing moments that he reveals the depths of his past or his actual feelings. In fact, he’s gotten infinitely better at showing just you what he needs or wants, but when faced with a hunger so deep it aches in his soul, he can’t let you see that side of him.
You can feel his muscles tense under your hold. “Bullshit.” As your eyes linger on the bulging veins in his neck, you inspect his chest with your other hand. “You’re very obviously not fine.” It takes every ounce of restraint in you not to shiver when you rest your entire palm in the middle of his chest. He’s like a block of ice, prickling at your skin until you have to pull back with a frown.
The idea of him dying over something like this sends you into a panic. He can’t die. He just can’t. “You need blood.” The end of your sentence trails off, and your hovering hand finds the edge of his open robe. It doesn’t sit right with you to let him lie here and suffer, especially when there’s maybe something you can do about it…
The answer is simple, and Xavier catches the gleam in your eye before you can voice your thought.
“No.”
“But Xavi–”
“Starlight,” his voice is a hiss now, sharp and unstable as his tremors have become. “I said no.” Xavier’s jaw is clenched so tight that you can see the muscles flinch under the resistance.
“You need blood.” You repeat, staring down at your wrist that holds the answer to his dilemma. “How else can you get it?”
He pauses, giving you enough time to sneak another thought in. “It’s not going to hurt me, is it?”
“Quite the opposite, starlight.” Xavier rubs a hand across his face. “You’ll feel good. Really good.” His Adam’s apple bobs, and you reason that he’s imagining you twisting in pleasure as he feeds from you.
“Okay…” Your eyebrow raises, not seeing the issue. “Then let’s do it. Let me help you.”
Xavier sneaks a glance, his pupils getting larger. “That’s the thing,” he mumbles, “once I get a taste of you, my instincts will take over. I don’t want to take more than you can give me.” His eyes close once again, covered by his arm as he pulls it from your grasp. “A person who hurts you doesn’t deserve to take from you.”
Slowly, giving him the opportunity to wrench away, you tiptoe your fingers up his torso. At the first touch of your index finger on his bare abdomen, he tenses, but doesn’t pull away. Actually, he welcomes the lingering warmth that sits on his skin as you make your way up his chest, holding gently to his jaw.
“What if I want this person to take from me?” The whisper sends a shiver through Xavier. “What if,” The pad of your thumb traces his jawline, “I trust that this person would never hurt me?”
Watching you with heavy eyes, Xavier drags his gaze across your face, seeing that you’re not backing down. With a sigh, he lets both of his arms fall to his sides, lingering so close to your waist but not touching.
“Go on,” you whisper, moving to straddle his waist. “Touch me.” The moment your thighs bracket his hips, you both share a soft gasp, speaking without words. There’s no mistaking the want that pulses with each beat of your heart, or the inexplicable connection when you nuzzle your nose against his. “I trust you, Xavier.”
Xavier shudders as your breath hits his lips, and your scent — god, your scent — is intoxicating. “Princess,” he lifts his head, barely grazing your mouth with his own. “Are you sure?” The whites of his eyes peek out from beneath his irises, and you find yourself leaning closer.
Before you can speak — something close to begging — Xavier dips his head down, kissing the top of your clothed shoulder. His arm wraps around you, his large palm pressing into your upper back. Stealth is Xavier’s greatest weapon, and you’re so mesmerized by his already hard cock pressing against you through his sweatpants that you don’t realize he’s hooking a finger into the collar of your shirt.
Warm lips press to your bare skin, and you cling tighter to him as he gets closer and closer to your neck. Each kiss is accompanied by a sigh, both of knowing you’re so willing to help him like this, to give him part of you, and the thought of sharing something so intimate. It’s more than sex. Deeper and more passionate. Blood is what keeps you alive, and Xavier is going to sap some of that from you.
“It’ll feel good,” Xavier whispers, his voice husky. “You might scratch me, or pull my hair.” He plants another kiss at the apex of your shoulder and neck, sucking at the skin. “Do whatever you need, starlight.”
You can’t help the natural arch into him, wanting him even closer than he already is. “Xavier.” The whimper is soft, and you’re not sure if it’s the gentle hold he has on you or the subtle grinding of his hips against yours, but you’re more than eager to have him bite you. “Please.”
“Patience,” his grip tightens against the back of your neck, anchoring you there to him. “I’ll only take a little.” The finger hooked into your shirt collar pulls a bit more, but it’s obviously become troublesome for Xavier to get a good grip on you like this. “Take this off.”
Hands clamber to throw off your shirt, and Xavier takes a moment to admire you, shirtless, in his lap. “You look gorgeous like this.” A palm cups the weight of your breast. “Like a fox caught in a bunny’s trap.” His lips wrap around one of your nipples, and you respond with a soft moan of his name. Your hand threads through his hair, cupping the back of his head in a way that’s less controlling and more reassuring.
Xavier takes his sweet time kissing up your chest, making sure to give the same attention to the other nipple, before landing right back at your neck. “Now that that’s out of the way.” He kisses the spot right below your ear, and when he speaks, it’s a sinful whisper. “Tap the back of my neck if you’re feeling lightheaded.”
“Okay,” you whisper, lips cresting the shell of his ear as he takes another weak, shuddering breath. Even as he takes another long inhale of your scent, you shiver in his grasp. He can smell the slight fear radiating from you, the hand in his hair tightening slightly as you close your eyes and relax into him.
“You’re scared,” Xavier says it so simply, pulling back to look you in the eyes. He’s so pale, with an almost translucent hue to his cheeks that means you can almost see the veins under his skin.
“Not of you,” you whisper, massaging his scalp while the other hand cups his cheek. “I’ve never done this before.” But you’re determined, tilting your head to the side in an open invite. “I’ll be okay, trust me.”
Xavier isn’t easily convinced.
In one quick motion, he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing your bare back into the sheets with a weak gentleness. You keep a steady grip on him, legs wrapped around his hips as he grinds down against you.
“No.” His tone deepens, looking down at you with such intensity that you almost melt under him. “I know a way to relax you.”
Xavier waits for your nod before dipping back down to kiss your neck. For a moment, you almost think he’s going to bite you, but he doesn’t. He moves down your bare chest, kissing over your breasts, making sure both nipples are spit-slicked and thoroughly pleasured. His mouth whispers praises across your stomach, and when he uses his teeth to tug down your shorts, you can see the sharp canines almost glinting in the light.
“You’re so gorgeous, starlight.” His hands part your knees, hooking them over his shoulders as he kisses right above the joint. “Thank you,” Xavier whispers, closing his eyes as he kisses slowly up your thigh, close to the seat of your panties. “For letting me do this.”
A sharp nip of his teeth at your thigh has your hand shooting down to thread through his hair, but his tongue immediately soothes the sting. It’s not enough to draw blood, not yet, but your answering moan of his name spurs Xavier further.
His lips press against the seat of your panties, feeling how wet you are through the fabric. “All this for me?” He teases, sitting up on his knees and toying with the waistband of your underwear. In one swoop, he’s maneuvering them off of you, leaving the only article of clothing on either of you, the sweatpants hanging low on Xavier’s hips. Where he discarded his robe, you don’t know, but as his breath ghosts over your pussy, you don’t find it in yourself to care.
“All for you,” you whimper at the first long lick through your folds that Xavier delivers, collecting your arousal on his tongue. The groan he lets out is sinful, defying the laws of heaven and hell for a taste of his angel lying under him.
“Your blood,” Xavier dips his tongue into your entrance, the tip of his nose teasing your clit. “Will not compare to how good your pussy tastes.” With his eyes closed, body nearly flat on the mattress, hips grinding down to soothe a fraction of the ache in his pants, he looks like he’s praying.
Xavier continues to feast, eating you out with a fervor that is concerning with how cold his hands are as they plant on your thighs, or the still pale complexion. Especially the labored breaths he takes when he’s buried face-first in your pussy.
“Xavier–” your thoughts are cut off when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, being mindful of his still distended fangs so he doesn’t nick you. “Don’t, fu–ck, don’t overdo– it.” The last thing you want is for him to pass out, or worse, while you’re grinding onto his face.
He mumbles something unintelligible, not wanting to part from your essence for too long. “I’m okay,” Xavier murmurs, his breath coming out deep and slow. “I’ll be fine.” His heart is beating just a second slower, sure, but all that matters is that your thighs are closing around his head, and your fingers tug strands of silver hair out right at the root. “Come for me, princess.”
When he goes back for more, tracing the tip of his tongue around your entrance while flicking his nose over your clit, your vision blanks. All you can focus on is Xavier’s tongue everywhere, his icy cold hands anchoring you in the fire as he holds you still.
“Good girl.” You don’t register that he’s hovering over you until you can taste yourself on his tongue, slick spreading over your swollen lips as you mindlessly push at his sweatpants.
“Shhhh,” he soothes you with a final kiss, pulling back just enough so your hand doesn’t reach his bulge. “Let me do this.”
Lying back on the bed, you watch as he strips himself of his sweatpants, your ears ringing and pulsing with your own heartbeat. Blood rushes through your eardrums, and if his nipping at your thigh felt good, you can only imagine what his actual bite will feel like.
You’re so pliant that Xavier easily parts your thighs for him to settle between, the tip of his cock tracing your folds and teasing you just enough to pull a desperate whimper from you. Reaching up, you hook your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until your noses bump.
“Please,” you plead, wrapping one leg around him as you beg. “Do it.” The side of your head tilts, exposing the same expanse of skin Xavier was previously ready to sink his fangs into.
“I will,” he soothes you with a kiss to the tip of your nose, a weak smile curling at his lips as he finally, finally sinks into your warmth. “Fuck…”
You watch the emotions flicker through him as you yourself submit to the pleasurable stretch of his cock. Inch by inch, you tilt your hips up, sharing breaths until his pelvis goes flush against yours.
“Good?” He asks, studying you and listening to your heartbeat. It’s much calmer than before, no hint of fear. Instead, it’s only anticipation and a desperation to help him. “Remember… What I said earlier…” Xavier leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your pulse point. “Tap the back of my neck–”
“If I’m feeling lightheaded.” You finish his earlier ask with a sigh. “I know, I know.” Shimmying your hips, you groan when you feel just how full you are. “I’ll be okay, trust me.”
Xavier nods, his hair tickling your cheek as he nuzzles further against you. His entire body presses against yours, and there isn’t a part of you that doesn’t feel him. Not in the tips of your fingers threaded through his hair, or the tense muscles of his lower back felt by your feet digging into him.
With one long breath, Xavier bites, and your whole world explodes.
Fire and ice curl together, racing through your veins in a race to fill every part of you. First, it’s the slight sting of his teeth sinking into you, but it’s immediately coupled by prickling electricity surging across your skin, raising the little hairs on your arms in their wake.
The only thing you can manage is a soft, “Xavier”, as he drinks, your body clenching around him. Your pussy tightens around his cock, and Xavier, in turn, groans into you, his hips working in slow thrusts to help you cope with the intensity of this.
It’s intimate, more intimate than you’ve been together despite going through all of the normal couple milestones. But this is more than that. It’s about sharing life with him, and you would do it ten times over if it meant you could have your Xavier with you.
Xavier can feel your heart racing, beating through his fangs as he closes his eyes and relishes the warmth that fills him. His hands are no longer biting cold, and color returns to his once translucent cheeks.
He can barely think about anything except your pussy wrapped around his cock and your sweet blood filling his throat. It’s the greatest elixir, his own personal alcohol that will leave him dizzy and flushed with happiness. He’s never been one to drink alcohol — it doesn’t affect vampires as much as it does humans, and tastes gross — but from seeing people stumbling through alleys at night, he can guess that it’s a high like no other.
But this? This is his second favorite taste, only behind your pussy.
“Fu–ck,” your back arches into him, a sudden chill passing through you as pleasure crests to an overwhelming degree. It’s part overstimulation from your previous orgasm added to this impending one, but also heightened from whatever sensations that Xavier’s drinking does to your body. “I’m…”
You can’t finish your sentence, words fail you the moment you let your body go, transcending to another plane as you clutch at Xavier like a lifeline. His back is the perfect place to count your score, drawing lines of red over his flexing muscles as he fucks into you with each slow suck of his mouth over your neck.
It’s impossible to feel anything else but the twitching of his cock inside you, and his own muffled groans against you as he falls over the edge alongside you. He fills you to the brim, but you don’t feel the slight trickle of come leaking from you when the tips of your fingers start to run a little cold…
Xavier realizes what’s happening before you tap the back of his neck. It’s not that you’re getting lightheaded. In fact, it’s the opposite. You feel connected to everything around you, especially Xavier. His scent wraps around you, soothing you into a strange sense of safety that you haven’t felt before. Sure, you always feel safe around him, but it’s like his bite has opened doors that you didn’t know could be opened to you.
“Starlight?” Xavier cups your cheeks, staring down at you with wide eyes as he pulls out of you and frantically checks your body for signs of the worst. “Are you okay?”
You lie there for a moment, watching Xavier press his cheek against your palm and finding it slightly cold. “Mhm,” you hum, smiling at him like a patient coming back from anesthesia. “I’m great.” Your voice is weaker than before, but you’re completely coherent as Xavier runs his hands up and down your sides. “You’re warm again.”
With a sigh of relief, Xavier rests his forehead on your collarbone, listening to your heartbeat stabilize into a normal rhythm. “All thanks to you.” He kisses your sweaty skin, finding the exact spot where your very human heart reminds him how alive you are, and how fragile you can be in the arms of someone like him.
“Stay right there,” Xavier suddenly stands, slipping his sweatpants back on.
Still in the same position he left you in, you give him a weak thumbs up. “‘m not going anywhere, handsome.”
Xavier mumbles something with a blushing smile before rushing out to the kitchen. The sound of running water, rummaging cabinets, and drawers continues until he steps back into his room with a bottle of juice, a damp cloth, and a small fruit snack.
“Here.” He sets the food and drink on the nightstand, focusing first on wiping off the sticky sweat, come, and saliva from your body with gentle precision. Xavier is meticulous, and yes, he’s incredibly aroused by how beautiful you look right now, with healing bite marks on your neck, a satiated smile on your face, and trusting eyes that only look for him. However, he knows that it’s important to take care of you properly, especially after drinking so much of your blood.
“You’re the best,” you murmur through heavy-lidded eyes and a stupidly wide smile. You let Xavier prop you up on the headboard, grab one of his shirts from his dresser, and help you slip into it.
“I disagree,” he counters, sitting on the bed beside you and bringing the bottle of juice to your lips. “You’re the best girlfriend I could ask for.”
Staring at him from the corner of your eye, you flicker your gaze between him and the juice. “I can do it myself…”
“I know. But I want to do this for you.” The way he speaks, so softly and gently, but still with a stern determination, has you relenting. His other hand skims the remnants of his fangs. “These will go away in a few hours.”
You let your head fall to his shoulder, opening your mouth and chewing on the bite of food he places on your tongue. “Mmmm,” you groan in satisfaction, reaching down to squeeze his bicep. “I don’t mind them… They’re kinda bad-ass, huh? I got bit by a vampire and survived.”
“You’re so funny,” Xavier says in a monotone voice, but breaks at a small chuckle.
“But really,” you turn your head to look at Xavier, smiling at him. “I would gladly do it again, whenever you’re hungry… Especially if I get that kinda treatment.”
Xavier groans, but pecks your lips. “Of course, starlight. Whatever you wish.”
·······•✦ description: A long day at work, a whole restaurant of takeout, and a deep massage later... Xavier's hands are magic, but so is his voice, his hips, and the way he renders you so relaxed underneath him.
·······•✦ pairing: afab!eader x xavier
·······•✦ word count: 4.1k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Established Relationship, Smut, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Massage, Making Out, Teasing, Thighs, thigh fucking, Foreplay, Doggy Style, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Praise Kink, Voice Kink, Prone Bone, Creampie, pet names - princess and starlight, No use of y/n, POV Second Person, Grinding, Nipple Play, Aftercare
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
It’s late in the afternoon when you get off work, bags of takeout in your hands.
The door locks behind you, and it takes less than a second before a second set of hands is coaxing the food away from you, and the smiling face of your boyfriend comes into view. He’s eyeing the food at the same time he’s assessing you, taking in the exhaustion on your face and the lethargic movements you exhibit.
“Did you have to order the entire restaurant?” Your tease is all in jest, and as you slip off your shoes, you meet Xavier’s eyes. “And I could have carried that.”
Xavier nods. “I know,” he whispers. “But I like carrying bags, especially when they have delicious food in them.” He turns away from you, walking back towards the kitchen and waiting for you to follow. “Why don’t you go change into something comfortable? I’ll set the table for us.” He turns to look at you over his shoulder. “I know anything is more comfortable than that.”
A sigh of relief leaves you at the suggestion, and you take it with an enthusiastic hum. “Gladly, those Wanderers really make me work up a sweat.” Another thought pops up in your head—with a different way to work up a sweat—but the exhaustion seeping into your bones is enough to cease your teasing for the moment. Maybe later you can have some fun, but the smell of dinner and the promise of warm, comfortable clothes win out.
Instead, you tug off your uniform, slipping into one of Xavier’s baggier shirts he left over there in one of the endless nights he’s spent at your apartment. The warm air of summer skims across your bare legs, and you debate wearing only panties under the shirt, but one of your favorite pairs of shorts screams your name.
In reality, the fabric of the shorts doesn’t do much more than your panties at covering your ass, but as you trudge back out to the kitchen—following the delicious aroma of the entire restaurant Xavier ordered from—you can’t find it in you to care.
“Nice outfit,” Xavier says, his movements paused to admire the sight of your almost bare legs.
Popping a vegetable in your mouth, you sit down at the dining table. “Thanks, but I don’t think you’re looking at my outfit.” Your cheeks puff out slightly, and Xavier has to fight the urge to poke you in one of his spontaneous, playful moods.
The jut in Xavier’s bottom lip is cuter when he sits next to you, his foot brushing yours under the table. “Who says I can’t look at everything?” He asks, picking up his chopsticks and taking a bite of a meatball. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled by his half-full mouth. “You look comfortable.”
“Oh, I am.” You steal a piece of meat from his plate. The warmth of the food, and the way his gaze rakes over your happy smile, is enough to revitalize some of the wariness in your muscles. “You underestimate how comfortable your clothes are, especially after a long solo mission.” Normally, he would tease you and steal the food back, but he relents for the night, watching you finish off the bite of food.
The reminder of the long day you spent alone makes Xavier frown. “I wish I could have gone with you… But all that matters is that you’re back in one piece.”
“I’m a big girl,” you joke, your smile softening into something only reserved for the man in front of you. “I can handle myself.” Then, because you kind of enjoy the pout he makes, you lean back in the chair. “Though it would have been much better with my partner by my side.”
There it is again. The pout you love so much.
It’s the truth. Solo missions are lonely, and when faced with the silence of an empty building after clearing out a rowdy underground Protocore operation, all you wished was to have Xavier with you. It’s impossible to have him on every single mission, and there is some satisfaction in knowing you did it all by yourself. Still, sharing in the victory with your best friend, partner, and boyfriend would have been a lot better.
“Next time I’ll convince Captain Jenna to let me go.” It’s Xavier’s best solution to the problem, and he would much rather deal with Jenna’s stern expression than know you’re missing him.
“I’m kidding, Xav.” Your laugh has Xavier’s ears tinging red, and a hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck. “Besides, I’m sure Jenna will just lock you in your office while I go out on the mission.” There are a few moments of silence between you as you eat, the domesticity of the night finally settling into something more comfortable.
With Xavier, it’s easy.
It’s the way his arms wrap around you when you fall asleep in the same bed, and the brush of his breath along your hairline. Or the way Xavier settles into step beside you, always poised to watch for dangers in his surroundings, yet still relaxed to the normal passerby.
Being with Xavier is easy, and loving him is the easiest thing you’ll ever do. You don’t ever have to think about it, because being with him is like finding your long-lost soulmate and just connecting in such a profound, unique way.
By the time most of your food is eaten or packed away in your fridge for leftovers, the moon is high in the sky, and you find yourself leaning into Xavier.
“Here.” Xavier stands, catching onto your clingy disposition and taking the opportunity to pull you towards the sofa in your living room. “Sit.”
“Yes, sir.” The playful tease slips off your sleepy tongue, and you don’t catch the widening of Xavier’s eyes or the slight twitch in his jaw. “I don’t wanna sleep on the couch.”
Xavier lets you lie halfway across the couch, sitting on the opposite end and maneuvering your legs into his lap. “This is the best way to give you a massage, starlight.” His fingers dance along the bare skin of your calves. “I promise I won’t let you fall asleep like this.”
“Good,” you whisper, resting one arm across your forehead while the other toys with the hem of your shirt—still Xavier’s. “Oh–” your voice catches when Xavier’s thumb digs into a particularly tense muscle right above your ankle. “Right there.”
“Like that?” You’re not sure if Xavier is asking whether he’s doing it correctly or whether you like it, but your answer is a low whine. With each new press of his fingers comes another noise. Sometimes it’s a grunt at how hard he pushes—never enough to hurt you, though. Sometimes it’s a sharp whimper that cascades into a soft moan. But each new sound of pleasure that comes from your lips is another reason for Xavier to keep going.
You melt into the couch, and as the cushions cradle your pliant body even closer, your eyes drift down to watch Xavier work. He’s careful, kneading the flesh of your calves and cradling your ankle as you press further into the warmth of his embrace. It’s there, in the lingering spaces between his touch, that you yearn for more.
“Xavier…” It’s not often you use his full name. Normally, it’s a shortened version or one of the many sugary sweet nicknames you have for him. It’s only when you call him ‘Xavier’ that he knows you’re in a certain mood.
“Yes, starlight?” His voice drops slightly, growing husky as his fingertips find the crook of your knee, and he enjoys the subtle twitch in your body.
Your eyes are shrouded by shadow, partly from the arm across your forehead, and partly from the cloud of desire creeping its way over you. “Go higher.” The plea doesn’t fall on deaf ears. In fact, there’s nothing that Xavier would love to do more than give you exactly what you want.
So he does.
His touch travels past your kneecap, tracing subtle circles into the outside of your thigh. It’s not quite where you want him, but it tampers the fiery heat that is already coursing through your veins. It isn’t until he dips under the bottoms of your shorts that you wiggle closer.
“More?” He asks, chuckling when you nod. “Is it just sleep that you don’t want to do on the couch?” The flicker of your gaze towards the hallway is all Xavier needs. “Bedroom it is, then.”
In one motion, you’re being cradled against his chest, the muscles in his biceps flexing under you as he carries you toward your bedroom. In reality, it’s more of a shared room than it is entirely yours, and the same goes for his room in the apartment upstairs. You both spend so much time together—whether that be at work or in the comfort of each other’s apartment—that it’s almost like you already live together.
Not that you’re tired of it. Never.
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” The concern in his voice is evident. “You looked really tired when I was massaging you.”
The exact moment your back hits the bed, you’re reaching forward, grabbing Xavier by the collar, and pulling him flush against you. “Yes.” There are only inches between your lips, and you register a brief flicker of surprise in Xavier’s expression before he cages you in with his flexing biceps. “‘m okay. Want you.” The clipped words that form your sentences don’t have to travel far to reach Xavier’s ears.
“I know you do, starlight.” One hand cups your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing along your skin. “But I want to make sure you don’t fall asleep or pass out on me.” His hips are flush against yours, and you can feel his arousal obviously poking the seat of your shorts, but the fact that he’s so adamant about making sure you’re okay with going further comforts you.
“I’ll be fine, Xavi.” You reassure him again, using one hand to sneakily slip under his shirt to dance along his abdominal muscles. “Off.” He obliges without another word, his shoulders flexing as he reaches behind him with one hand to tug off his top.
You’ve seen Xavier shirtless many times, both before you started dating and plenty of times after, but it never gets old. He’s fit, with hidden muscles lingering beneath his skin that only show when he’s completely bare, which is something reserved for one person: you.
The tip of Xavier’s nose bumps yours when he leans down, close enough to feel your breath against his parted lips but not fully connecting them. “Alright, but if you get tired,” his hand skirts up your shirt, teasing the warm skin below your navel, “you tell me.”
“I will,” you gasp into his mouth, part of your response swallowed by his lips when he finally kisses you like you’ve been wanting. It’s all-consuming, but you accept you’ve passed the event horizon and are barreling towards the center of a black hole.
In this moment, you don’t think of anything besides the warmth of his palm cupping your breast and the tip of his tongue teasing yours in a dance that has you whining against him. But one thing about Xavier is that he commits. He will take his time even though all he wants to do is fuck you into the mattress, so he makes use of his long fingers, bypassing the seat of your shorts to press right against the bottom of your underwear.
“You’re so wet. You don’t want to ruin these pretty panties, do you, princess?” How dare he sound so hot when he’s teasing you? In fact, it’s rude that he’s still insanely attractive while he’s jutting out his lower lip in mock submission, knowing that he’s going to have you on all fours very soon. He’s relentless, even as he’s rubbing at your slit through the fabric, spreading your arousal into the cotton.
One of your arms hooks around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. The kiss is anything but. In fact, it would likely be more accurate to call it ‘exchanging breaths’. Every noise you make is echoed into his mouth, and vice versa, but Xavier is quiet… Too quiet.
So your other hand trails down, cupping him through his sweatpants.
“No underwear?” You murmur against his lips, your eyes shining with moonlight and reflecting every version of you that Xavier has loved.
It takes him a moment to respond. “Fuck, princess…” That nickname, the one that slips out in between vulnerable grunts or intimate situations, is breathed into you. “No. No underwear.” It’s all he can do not to come on the spot, determined to bring you more pleasure than you bring to him.
You trace his tip through the fabric, a smirk coming when Xavier lets out a slow breath, like he’s relaxing completely into you. Something wet touches the pad of your thumb, and you look up at him with wide, teasing eyes. “Don’t wanna ruin these sweatpants, do we, Xavi?”
Xavier shakes his head, the thoughts in his head zeroing in on the feel of your hand on his bulge and the slow grind of your hips against his hand. He doesn’t stop his touches, no. Instead, he ramps it up, pushing the seat of your panties up to your entrance, going just enough to ruin this pair of underwear for at least a few washes. Then, he goes up to your clit, circling the throbbing bud with practiced precision.
“So sensitive,” Xavier whispers, trailing kisses down your jaw as he finally slips around your panties so skin can meet skin. “Is this all for me?” The pillow is soft under your head, a sharp contrast to the hard planes of Xavier’s abdomen when you curl your hand around his side.
“Mhm,” you hum, “only you, Xavier.”
The groan he lets out is sinful, just pure desire and want manifested in the noises that vibrate against the bare skin of your neck. In these moments, with your body laid out and vulnerable, you’ve never felt safer than in Xavier’s arms. Especially when he’s touching you like this, dipping his finger in your arousal and spreading it around your clit.
“Turn around.” It’s less of a demand and more of a plea, helping you shed your clothes while tugging off the last remaining piece of covering on himself. “Good girl,” Xavier whispers praise as you rise on your knees, letting his hands wander along your sides.
The touch drifts to your stomach, pressing lightly and making you arch into him. “Xavier,” you whine, your head falling perfectly against his shoulder. “More.”
“I have to make sure you’re ready,” he whispers in your ear, kissing along the arch of your shoulder while his fingers dance in a mind of their own. Up to your breasts, down to your knees, and nearly every place in between. The relief, though, doesn’t come in the form that you would want it to.
Xavier’s cock grinds against the cleft of your ass, a stuttered groan pressing into the back of your neck, and you try to push back. However, Xavier is strong. It’s one of the things you love about him, and he stops you with a firm grip on your hip.
“Don’t move, princess.” His voice is stern, stopping you in your tracks harder than his hand did. “I’ll give you what you want soon.” You can feel the smile on his face despite not being able to see him, but it’s what he does next that surprises you because it’s something he hasn’t done in a while.
Xavier has always has a thing for your thighs. If someone were to ask him what his favorite physical attribute is about you—besides your smile or your bright eyes—he would immediately say your thighs. The pressure around his head when he’s bringing you to the peak over and over is unmatched. Not to mention he can leave marks there that only the two of you can see. Like some sort of secret shared, knowing what lies beneath the surface of your pants when you walk into work.
It’s been a long time since the feeling of his cock slipping between said thighs has graced your senses. His tip glistens with arousal, and it drags across your skin while grinding so close to your pussy lips. He can already feel the slick coating him, making it easier for him to guide himself in a way that bumps your clit with every thrust forward, yet still constricts around his cock as if mimicking your warm walls.
“Look down,” Xavier says, using one hand to guide your chin. “Can you see me?”
You can.
When you look down, you can see the flushed pink head of his cock poking from between your thighs, the lewd picture burned into your mind from the last time he fucked you so close to where you needed him. He’s glistening, a mixture of yours and his arousal coating the subtle vein pulsing on the side of his length.
“Fuck…” Your lips part in a silent moan, the combination of each shocking grind to your clit and the sight of him using you like this making it hard to control yourself. So you reach down with one of your hands, the pad of your thumb dragging along Xavier’s slit when he makes a reappearance.
Your name is stuttered in your ear between expletives because, above all else, Xavier wants you to know that it’s only you who could make him feel this way.
“Do you like the way– ha…” Xavier stops, his arms tight around you as he makes a show of slowly grinding against you. “The way I fuck your perfect thighs?”
The beating of your heart thunders in your ears, and you flatten your palm between your legs, feeling him grind the tip of his cock against your hand. “Yes,” you whimper, the onslaught of sensations to your nipple, your clit, and the gentle caress along your jawline becoming too much to handle. “Please. I need more.” All sense of exhaustion is gone. Instead, it’s the raging inferno of a day alone, coming back to your apartment to find your boyfriend, and the quick massage he tried to start, until your hormones interrupted you.
Xavier takes a heavy breath, keeping his hips flush against yours and letting you play with the head of his cock. “You know I can’t– gods— say no to you, princess.” His hands come up to cup your breasts, keeping you pressed completely against him. “Go ahead,” He whispers against your shoulder, looking down at the way your hands explore the sensitive head of his cock. “If you want it, do it.”
The implication hangs there, waiting for you to take advantage of. And you do.
Your legs part slightly, arching your lower back yet not straying too far from Xavier’s hard chest, and you reach down to guide him to your wet entrance. As soon as the tip grazes the ring of muscle, you choke out a mixture of his name and a whine.
“That’s it,” Xavier mumbles, his thumbs toying with your hard nipples while letting you set the initial pace. “Fuck yourself on me.”
It takes you a second to find yourself, but the moment you cover Xavier’s hands on your breasts, you take a breath and sink down. Kneeling on the bed like this is awkward, but with this angle, he hits so deep inside you, curving just right to make up for maybe the lack of substantial girth.
“Take me so… well.” Each inch is another stolen breath, another rough knead of your chest. It’s overwhelming in the best way, going from the tightness of your thighs to the clenching of your pussy that throbs with your heartbeat.
The moment you’re fully seated, the curve of his cock nestled right against your most sensitive spot, you rotate your hips in a slow grind. He’s everywhere, but when one of his hands presses lightly on your abdomen, the little sparks of light that were simple flecks dancing in the air around you illuminate the headboard in front of you.
“Do you feel that?” His voice is a rasp of what it was, spoken into the crook of your neck like it’s a secret for just the two of you. “Is it too much?” You shake your head, words failing you at the current moment. “Do you want more?”
“Ye–” You nod, the verbal sign coming with much strength.
It feels so good. Too good. Before you can warn Xavier, your knees weaken, and you fall face-first onto the bed.
Xavier’s hands grip your hips, keeping himself buried so deep inside you, but not daring to move just yet. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you say, finally able to manage words, even though they’re halfway muffled by the pillow squishing against your cheek. “Good… More…”
“More?” Xavier laughs, spreading your ass and watching your pussy swallow him with each shallow thrust. “You should just relax, princess.” His thumbs tease your pussy, tracing around where his cock finds home every waking second. “Let me take care of you.”
The first few thrusts are intense, fucking you into the mattress with each snap of his hips until you’re gripping at the sheets and chanting his name like a mantra. Knees brace into the sides of your thighs, effectively trapping you underneath him—as if you would want to be anywhere else.
“Still– with– me?” Xavier stutters out between breaths, his body molding to yours like two puzzle pieces finally clicking together.
You nod again, a small line of drool dribbling from the corner of your lips to soak the pillow below. It’s only when Xavier hooks an arm around you, pulling up just enough so he can see the haze in your eyes and the slick parting of your lips, that you let out a sharp whimper.
“C–cl–close,” you say, managing to anchor to the bed with weak palms. The warmth of Xavier’s fingers hold your chin, his biceps rippling with every brutal thrust. You don’t even need the extra stimulation to your clit, because the way he stretches you—fills you—with every bit of himself is more than enough.
Xavier doesn’t speak anymore. It’s low groans accompanied by sharp breaths that trail a path along your shoulder blade. And as you feel your body being tested past its limit, Xavier’s eyes never stray from your face.
Yes, he’s making sure you’re okay, but there’s also nothing better than knowing he’s the one to do this to you. He’s the one making your legs shake uncontrollably. He’s the one holding you up when your body protests. And when your pussy pulses around him with each wave of your orgasm?
Xavier’s the one pressing flush against you, filling you to the brim with his cum until it starts to spill out from around his softening length.
The mess is secondary in your mind.
Not when Xavier curls his arms around you—softer now—and crowds you against his chest. His cock still sits half-hard inside you, plugging you as much as he can manage because why would he ever let it all just drip out when you look so pretty like this?
But reality comes crashing down as fingers press into a particularly tense spot on your thigh and you whine.
“Hurts?” Xavier asks, his lips cresting the shell of your ear. He backs off a little, lifting his hand off of you and only moving when you shake your head and guide his palm back to the curve of your hip.
“No,” you mumble, your eyes closed. “Just a little sore.”
The answer is a soft chuckle, and you feel yourself being lifted. You can’t help the whimper of protest when he pulls out of you, but seeing the faint light of the bathroom coming into your view, you know you’re in for a treat.
“Use the bathroom,” Xavier says into your hair. “I’ll draw a bath, change the sheets, and join you when I’m done.” His eyes travel along your bare body, assessing with Hunter proficiency that there are no obvious injuries. It’s comforting in a way, especially when he knows you would tell him if anything felt wrong. “Okay, starlight?”
The sound of the water running echoes through the bathroom, and as he sits you on the toilet seat, you look up at him with a satiated, tired, and content smile.
·······•✦ description: When all three of you are able to attend the same ball after weeks of not seeing each other, the tension is unable to be ignored, even in the midst of the Crown Prince's royal suitors and the Dragon's duties.
·······•✦ pairing: dragon!sylus x princess!reader x crown prince!xavier
·······•✦ word count: 7.4k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff, light angst
·······•✦ general tags: Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Prince Xavier, Dragon Qin Che | Sylus, but not in dragon form, Ballroom Dancing, Sexual Tension, Secret Relationship, Sneaking Around, Gay Sex, Cunnilingus, Multiple Sex Positions, Multiple Orgasms, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Sexual Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Cowgirl Position, Accidental Voyeurism, Jeremiah sees some stuff oops, Creampie, Blow Jobs, two person blow job, Smut, Fluff, Light Angst, No use of y/n, POV Second Person
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
“I never see much need for celebrations such as this,” Xavier whispers into your ear, careful to maintain the same air of decorum that would be expected of a Crown Prince. “All of the Kings and Queens marvel over engagements and appearances, while we stay in the corners.”
Stealing a glance over at him, you fight back the hint of a smile on your lips. In a room full of royals, some of whom are eager to dig up any dirt they can on other kingdoms, it’s dangerous to let your true expression out. Especially when the man you’re speaking to is heir to one of the most influential dynasties on the planet.
“You may not stay in corners, with how many princesses you’ve attracted recently.” Your sentence is punctuated with a sigh, remembering the recent news about the famed Crown Prince and how many princesses have spoken to their parents about his hand in marriage. It’s amusing, really, to know that they all want him when it’s your palace he travels to and your bed he lies in.
The thought of him being married off when he’s already where he wants to be, with you and Sylus, is more than just jealousy. It’s outrage. Everyone wants to control the lives of the heirs, using them as pawns when they have every right to choose for themselves.
“Don’t worry.” It’s like he can already sense your emotions, leaning a bit further into your side. “I’ve already told my father I won’t be dealing with any of those trivial matters.” His eyes trace your side profile, amused by the slight cinch between your eyebrows and the tight pull of your lips.
“It’s only a matter of time, though.” Another voice joins the fray, and you turn to find Sylus standing beside Xavier. “Talk gets around, and alliances must be made, Your Highness.” The low drawl of his voice sends a shiver through you, but you fight the urge to jump into his arms and kiss him senseless. This is a royal ballroom, and anything less than perfection will be scrutinized under a magnifying glass.
Both you and Xavier exchange a subtle look, and an understanding passes between you. It’s not every day you can see your other lover, since his duties at the top of the mountain are far vaster than his own small kingdom that he’s tricked others into believing he has.
He does have a castle, yes, but is it as vast as the kingdom that others see him ruling? No. It’s a beautiful place, and one that his trusted advisors—who are more or less his trusted apprentices—Luke and Kieran look over while Sylus is away guarding his hoard. After finding them wandering alone on the mountain, Sylus took them under his wing, giving them the palace to stay in and trusting them to run it smoothly. Though with how mischievous they are, it’s not always a walk in the park.
“Shouldn’t you be going to slay a dragon?” You tease, catching the glimmer in Sylus’ eye as he shrugs. Lately, more and more princes have been challenging the ‘mighty dragon up the mountain’, and with the influx of those venturing up to steal back the dragon’s hoard, Sylus has been more than busy.
“Ah, you’re right, princess.” The name, although correct, feels different coming from Sylus’ lips. It’s less of a title and more of a reverent calling amidst the arching violins in the background. “I suppose it’s my turn to climb that treacherous mountain.”
“I heard word of a certain Prince in the fire-lands who is preparing to challenge the dragon,” you whisper, the words more of a warning than small talk. Everyone knows the prince you’re speaking of is highly revered for his swordsmanship, and you don’t want Sylus to meet an untimely end at his hand.
Sylus nods. “I have also heard that…” He looks over to Kieran as he sips on an unknown red liquid in a wine glass. “Ears are everywhere, princess. It is unlikely you’ve heard something that I haven’t.”
Behind a door, you catch the sight of Luke sneakily listening to a conversation between a man and a woman. They’re older, but the look on Luke’s face as he slinks back into the shadows is nothing short of excited.
The tension between you three is palpable. Sylus’ hands stay clasped behind his back, tightly clenched as if fighting back the urge to reach for both you and Xavier. Xavier is more relaxed, but you can tell from the flexing of his jaw that he’s also pushing down his own needs.
“How about a dance?” Sylus steps in front of you, holding out a single hand in invitation. “Perhaps,” his crimson eyes flicker briefly to Xavier before meeting your own. “After our dance, we can discuss some private matters.”
Anticipation bubbles beneath your skin as you let Sylus lead you out onto the dance floor. Some people murmur about upcoming journeys—a new prince preparing to challenge the dragon at the top of the mountain—while others whisper about marriage proposals in the next few weeks.
But the moment you find yourself dancing to the familiar rhythm that you’ve practiced many times before, you tune out everything around you. The warmth of Sylus’ palm on your hip sears through you, and the only thing you can focus on is how his body heat seeps into every point of contact, from your hands held together to his large palm curving along your hip.
Xavier watches from the sidelines, ignoring all the stares of princesses as they try to gather the courage to speak to him. Now that he’s alone, he lets his mind wander. Music turns to mush in his brain, and his eyes zero in on his two lovers on the dance floor.
The way your eyes light up in the glimmer of the chandelier. The hint of a vein stretching across the back of Sylus’ hand. You’ve danced with Sylus a few times before, when his appearance as a prince was still very new, and he had to explain where exactly his palace was located in the warm valley outside of Philos. It’s not often that Xavier can sit back and enjoy the subtle smile on both your and Sylus’ faces.
He can stand there forever, watching the two of you, but his urges, accompanied by the look Sylus gave him, win out. With a polite nod to the rapidly approaching Princess of the South, Xavier brushes past her and out of the ballroom. Distance isn’t an issue for him, and as he steps into an empty parlor just a few doors down from where a multitude of people are partying the night away, he waits.
“It seems our prince has already taken his leave,” Sylus whispers in your ear, leaning close enough so no others overhear while also maintaining the air of propriety. “Give it a moment, and we can join him.” After a moment, Sylus continues the dance, all the moves you’ve taught him in the dim-lit rooms of his cave coming into his memory. “How have you been?”
You allow yourself a small smile. “Well. I’ve been well.” It’s been a while—too long if it were up to the three of you—since you had seen either Sylus or Xavier, but the carriage ride to Xavier’s palace takes time, and it would be rather suspicious if a princess traveled up to the dragon’s cave. “There have been some things I have missed,” you say, your thumb rubbing a slow circle into the fabric over Sylus’ collarbone. “Your little henchmen have been taking care of your castle quite well.”
You don’t have to look around to know Luke and Kieran are here. “Who is looking after your castle while your entourage is here?” Skating around topics is hard when you’re dancing in the middle of royals who would gladly sell your gossip to the local paper.
“Actually,” Sylus smirks, “I have found myself working diligently on a new treasure.” The way he says it, dripping with amusement, brings goosebumps to your arms. “He’s quite small… I’ll need to… build a bigger body for him.”
“You’ve taken in another lone soul?” The question is completely genuine. You’re used to Sylus’ kindness by now, though the royals are always assuming that the dragon on the mountaintop is a monster; you’ve never seen Sylus that way. He helps. He loves.
Sylus laughs, a genuine chuckle that causes your heart to beat a fraction of a second faster. “Not entirely, though birds do have a mind of their own.”
Before you can speak, ask him what he means by a bird, and the song comes to an end. You bow to Sylus, all in the name of propriety, and let him lead you back to the outskirts of the floor. His bicep flexes under your palm, and as soon as you reach the onlooking people, Sylus brushes past them.
“Eager, are we?” You tease, bowing to an older woman who holds the door open for you. People linger in the entryway, watching for all the latest gossip.
Sylus drops his arm, giving you a low bow while not breaking eye contact. “Very,” he whispers, regarding the passing gentleman with a nod before turning and walking down an empty hallway. You know what he’s doing, and you immediately turn to avoid seeming suspicious.
Standing there beside the stairs, you meander for a moment, pretending to admire the beautiful chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. And though it is stunning, it’s not what you’re focused on, no… You catch a glimpse of Sylus slipping into a room a few doors away.
After what seems like an eternity, you notice the last of the guests walking into the ballroom, giving you the perfect opportunity to follow the same path that Sylus took. When you reach the open doorway, you find Xavier and Sylus standing there, close enough that if it were anyone other than you, it would be the talk of the kingdoms for weeks.
“How kind of you two to wait for me,” you say, your smile wider than the polite ones exchanged in the ballroom. “I thought you would be jumping each other already.” Turning back, you swing the door shut before facing your two lovers again.
Xavier is the first to step forward, pulling you towards him with an open palm. “We have the patience to wait,” he mumbles, but the tips of his ears are already coloring red. “And we were discussing the next time we can see each other.” The moment you’re in Xavier’s arms, you melt into him. “But that is neither here nor there… We have more important business to attend to.”
“Like?” You prompt, looking between Xavier and Sylus.
“Like making up for lost time,” Sylus whispers, moving to stand behind you. His lips find the sensitive skin under your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “It’s been so long,” he nips at your exposed shoulder, thankful that your dress is only held up by small sleeves.
Your eyes follow Xavier as he kneels in front of you, his hands bunching at the ends of your dress. “What are you doing?”
A hum meets your question, the tips of Xavier’s fingers ghosting along your calf as he raises an eyebrow. “Tasting my beautiful princess,” he speaks softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Is that okay?”
You nod. “Yes… Yes.”
Sylus’ hands move from your hips, skimming along your front as Xavier dips beneath your dress, wasting no amount of time before helping you step out of your panties. The time for words is gone, replaced by a warm mouth kissing along your thighs, and hands that maneuver one of your legs up and around his shoulder.
“Xavier–” his name comes out as a whimper, and it’s then that you realize you’re at the mercy of your two lovers, not wasting any more time to touch you how you’ve been craving. “Fu…”
“Hmmm,” Sylus hums against your neck, careful not to leave an obvious mark, but the sounds you make are so tempting. “Careful, love.” The nickname makes you moan. “We don’t want anyone else to hear you, do we?”
You start to shake your head, but the rough pad of Sylus’ thumb finds your hard nipple, and you can’t hold back the stuttered whisper of his name. “Good girl,” he mumbles, kneading the soft flesh through your dress while Xavier drags his tongue through your folds. “Is he making you feel good?”
“B–both,” you say through gasps, reaching for something for your hands to do. Part of you wants to lift your dress, watch Xavier as he loses himself in your pussy, while the other part wants to guide Sylus’ hands wherever you want them. Right now, the only thing you can do is reach up to cup the back of Sylus’ head, arching into Xavier’s mouth as he suctions his lips around your clit.
“We both are?” Sylus whispers, his voice deep with satisfaction. “Good…” He kisses the junction of your shoulder and neck. “I want you both to feel good.” Both of his hands come up to your breasts, teasing you through the fabric until you’re whimpering. “We’ll get you out of this soon…”
Sylus’ teasing words only bring more heat, and when Xavier closes his hand around your thigh, pressing closer to you as if you were the oxygen he breathes, you nearly lose your balance grinding down against him.
“Xav– Sy… I’m…” You can’t speak past the overwhelming press of Xavier’s tongue going from your entrance to the hood of your clit. If anything, the only thing you can say is broken whimpers of their names while you try to stay as silent as possible.
Release doesn’t come until Sylus tugs down the top of your dress, freeing your breasts to the cool air. Your body threatens to twist in their embraces, but Xavier’s holding you upright, and Sylus is holding you against him with his warm palms against your chest.
“That’s it,” Sylus whispers in your ear, his nose tracing your skin with gentle reverence. “Always so beautiful when you come for us.”
When Xavier comes back up from beneath your dress, it’s like all bets are off. Now, it’s just the mess of bodies coming together in kisses that are all teeth and tongue. Hands wander along bodies, all in various states of undress, as if trying everything to enjoy the moment before you’re forced back into society.
“I think,” Sylus cups Xavier’s jaw, kissing him between words as you help them unbutton their pants and shirts. “We should pamper our prince, right, love?”
He guides Xavier back to an armchair behind him, letting him sit down and lean back. Xavier’s dressed in just his shirt, unbuttoned to reveal his chiseled abdomen, honed by a lifetime of fighting.
“My beloved princess and my pretty boy kneeling for me,” Xavier says, his voice breathless as both you and Sylus kneel in front of him. His hips are at the edge of the chair, making it easier for two mouths to get closer and closer to his cock. “You both look perfect like this.”
Before Xavier can praise you again, Sylus delivers a slow lick to the bottom of Xavier’s length, wrapping his lips around the head. Immediately, Xavier’s fingers thread through Sylus’ hair, cradling the back of his head as you mouth along the side of his cock.
A soft expletive slips from Xavier’s mouth, and you listen to the audible effort from the man in the chair to stop himself from groaning. In other circumstances, you all could be as loud as you wanted. The sounds of your moans could bounce off the cave walls or echo in the palace grounds, but with numerous people doors away, Xavier has no choice but to bite into the side of his hand.
“Fuck… Gods, your mouths…” He can’t say anything besides a sigh, his thumb rubbing slow circles into the base of Sylus’ neck as he sinks further and further down his cock. “That’s it. Pretty boy.”
The praise brings a warm flush to Sylus’ face, but he doesn’t stop the slow descent down Xavier’s cock until his nose sits flush against his pelvis. Low gagging noises come, but Sylus has sucked Xavier off enough to be able to breathe slowly, but it doesn’t stop the building saliva that connects Sylus’ bottom lip with the tip of Xavier’s cock when he pulls off with a pop.
“Remember last time when I held onto your perfect horns?” Xavier clenches his teeth when you cup his balls, mouthing along the side of his cock before you take him in your mouth. Instead of speaking, Xavier brushes his thumb along Sylus’ bottom lip. “You have such sensitive horns, love… But all I can– fuck princess,” Xavier’s head falls back onto the chair as you take him halfway, circling your tongue around him. “All I can hold onto– ah– is your hair.”
Both you and Sylus alternate sinking on Xavier’s cock, enjoying the almost inaudible noises that spill from his lips. Every kitten lick and suckle at his tip—where he’s most sensitive—is met with another tortured gasp or groan. It’s hard to stay silent when his two lovers are worshipping his cock and balls with such gentle strokes.
Xavier mumbles something under his breath; the only words that reach your ears are ‘quiet’ and ‘can’t’. Each noise is accompanied by the slick sounds of saliva and the subtle gagging from both you and Sylus as you suck Xavier off.
“Stop,” Xavier whispers, the fingers in Sylus’ hair tugging him off with the strength of a warrior. “Can’t… Can’t stay quiet.” When you sit back on your heels, staring up at him with glassy eyes, hard nipples, and your thighs clenching together, Xavier swears he’s going to cum on the spot. “Don’t want to come so soon.”
All of you exchange breaths, fingers intertwining and bodies meeting in slow kisses. Xavier tastes himself on both of your tongues, but he doesn’t care. If anything, it turns him on more that the evidence of this night will linger with all three of you. He kisses Sylus, moaning when your fingers thread through his hair and you attempt to join in on the messy lip-lock.
“Lie down,” Xavier commands, his usual strong princely voice now breathless.
“Are you sure you can stay quiet?” Sylus teases, letting Xavier push him down on a long sofa beside the chair. None of you is sure what the purpose of this room is, but all you can think of is that when you visit this castle again in the future, this moment is all you will be able to think of.
Xavier doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he kneels in front of Sylus’ hips, thankful for the space on the couch to fit himself there. His lips kiss along Sylus’ hips, leaving a subtle mark there for only you and him to see. You watch as Xavier sinks on Sylus’ cock, coating him with saliva, before his eyes meet yours. “Come here, princess.”
Your feet move of their own volition, bringing you closer until Xavier can tap your hip. “Ride him,” he says, his blue eyes shining in the moonlight.
“You don’t want us to have all the fun, right, kitten?” Sylus runs his fingers through Xavier’s hair, using his other hand to help you climb onto him. “That’s it,” he whispers, letting you line yourself up to his cock before sinking down slowly. “Fuck…”
The whimper that leaves your lips is anything but quiet, and as your nails find purchase in Sylus’ chest, his answering groan is swallowed by your lips. “Gods… Sylus–”
“Good girl,” he soothes the stretch with a light massage to your hip. Both he and Xavier watch with rapt attention as you sink down onto him, your pussy stretching to accommodate his thick cock. “So beautiful for us…”
Xavier kneads the flesh of Sylus’ thigh, coaxing his leg open to reveal the pucker of his asshole. “Relax, love.” He whispers, making eye contact with Sylus as you sit fully on top of him. “I’ve got you.” With a hand against your back, Xavier eases you down until your chest is flush against Sylus’.
You lie there for a moment, and the slick feeling of spit drips down your folds. Before it stains the couch below you, Xavier catches the glob of saliva he let fall from his lips, spreading the liquid around Sylus’ pucker. In one slow breach, he pushes a single finger in, easing so slowly as not to hurt the man lying vulnerable on the couch.
“God,” Sylus groans, his lips preoccupied by yours, as Xavier attends to him. His hips stutter up, burying himself deeper inside you as his fingers dig into your hips.
“Just a little more, love.” Xavier’s fingers work slowly, giving you enough space to start grinding down against Sylus’ pelvis. The soft tuft of hair at the base of his cock tickles you, and the hard plains of his hip give you a delicious friction on your clit. “That’s it, princess. Grind on him while I stretch him out.”
It doesn’t take long before Xavier is sitting up on his knees, one of his hands covering Sylus’ on your hip while the other grips the base of his cock. “Ready?” He asks, dancing kisses along your shoulder. When Sylus gives a small nod, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every clench of your pussy around his cock, he swallows the lump in his throat as Xavier eases the head of his length past the tight ring of muscles.
As soon as Xavier is flush against Sylus’ ass, his chest molding to your back, his hands come around to join yours. Like this, Sylus can only lie there, at the mercy of his two lovers, as they take everything while giving him everything in return.
“Ah, gods…” Sylus’ head falls back against the armrest of the couch, his body exposed for Xavier to play with Sylus’ nipples. The aching peaks are so sensitive—just as the rest of his body is—and his cock twitches inside you with every slow thrust that Xavier gives him.
“Too much?” Xavier whispers against Sylus’ lips, a low groan vibrating through him when Sylus’ hands wrap around his wrists.
Sylus shakes his head. “No, god no,” he mumbles, his eyes screwed shut as Xavier nips at his jawline. “Not too much.” Despite the curling of his toes or the clenching of his ass around Xavier’s cock, his voice remains the same steady whisper. “Nothing you two give me is too much.”
“Careful, love.” Xavier punctuates his teasing warning with a rough thrust of his hips. In turn, your hands anchor on Sylus’ shoulders, pleasure edging into every movement as the tip of his cock brushes right against your G-spot. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do,” Sylus says, his grip tight on Xavier’s wrist and your hip. It’s like the warmth of your bodies against him anchors him in this moment, allowing him to categorize this for the lonely nights up on the mountain. “I do know.”
For a few minutes, the only noises you can hear are the slick thrusts of Xavier, the squelching of your pussy around Sylus’ cock, and the almost inaudible cacophony of noises that slip from you, Sylus, and Xavier.
“‘m close,” you whimper against Sylus’ shoulder, your body moving in a mind of its own as you chase your release.
Sylus holds you tight, letting you grind against him because with Xavier fucking him with relentless passion, he can barely move. “Go ahead, kitten,” he whispers against your temple, groaning when Xavier toys with one of his nipples.
White explodes behind your eyelids, and you can’t help the sharp whine that erupts from the back of your throat. Your pussy flutters around Sylus’ cock, your body twitching, muscles jerking in response to every one of the subtle touches that Xavier and Sylus give you.
It isn’t until you come back to yourself that you realize you’re lying on the chair next to the couch. How you got there, you don’t know, but the soft gasps for breath you let out are accompanied by the rustling of bodies and the warmth of hands on your legs.
“Princess,” Xavier’s voice pulls you from your stupor, and when you find his eyes staring up at you from between your thighs, the heat simmering beneath your skin ignites once more. “Can you handle more? Or shall we give you a break?”
As he speaks, his cheek rests against your inner thigh, while Sylus rocks his middle finger past the tight ring of muscle between Xavier’s ass cheeks. Soft sighs of satisfaction come from Xavier, accompanied by his eyes closing and opening once more to reveal deep blue pools that are clouded over with pleasure.
“Right– ha– there,” Xavier hisses, arching back into Sylus’ finger. A wanton whimper slips when said man pulls out, only to replace his two fingers with the slick head of his cock.
“Our princess already made me so wet, love.” You can hear the wet squelch as Sylus taps his cock against Xavier’s hole, and your toes curl when you look up to see Sylus already staring down at you. “You like that, don’t you?”
You nod, your chest heaving with each labored breath you take. Watching Sylus slowly slide inch by inch inside Xavier, your fingers tangle in the prince’s hair. “Xav,” you whisper, your thigh muscle twitching when he delivers a soft nip to your skin. “Please.”
He knows what you’re asking, what you’re pleading for, and he’s more than happy to oblige. Xavier is careful as he arranges your thighs to rest on his shoulders, letting you lounge back on the couch and enjoy the way your pussy muffles the rough groans that he lets out.
The view is nice, too.
Each slow pump of Sylus’ hips pushes Xavier closer to you, and the subtle arch of Xavier’s back lets you see the curves of his ass jiggling as Sylus picks up the pace. The sound of skin against skin echoes through the room, but the noises coming from you three are soft, like the music that faintly drifts in from doors down.
“Fu– careful, love,” Sylus grunts through clenched teeth, his palm resting flat against Xavier’s lower back. It forces his body into more of an arch, keeping his mouth pressed to your throbbing clit while his hands flatten on the ground to hold him up. “Keep clenching like that– that,” he clenches once more, drawing a low growl from Sylus that has your thighs tensing around Xavier’s face.
Your fingers tighten in Xavier’s hair, holding him against you—as if he would want to be anywhere else. However, the touch is more grounding for you than it is for him. When the edges of overstimulation threaten to take you under, it’s the combination of their eyes watching you with such reverence while listening to the sinful noises that come from your two lovers.
“Want me to fill you up, love?” Sylus’ voice is strained, likely by the beautiful sight of his lover spread out under him, his hands spreading Xavier’s ass wider to enjoy the view of his thick length disappearing in Xavier’s slick hole.
At Sylus’ words, Xavier clenches, the words of affirmation almost silent as he speaks them into your pussy. His tongue darts out, lazily tracing your folds with each thrust that Sylus gives him. It’s not enough to bring you to orgasm, but after the mind-blowing one you had riding Sylus, you’re grateful to have the opportunity to watch Xavier get his fill of your dragon.
“You do,” Sylus mumbles, his affirmation met with another clench from the man arching for him. “So desperate for it.” The tense roughness of Sylus’ voice isn’t lost on you, but you watch through hooded eyes as Xavier matches Sylus’ thrusts. “Ready, love?”
Xavier nods against your pussy, wiggling his hips in an attempt to get Sylus even closer. He’s desperate, wanting to feel Sylus sinking so deeply inside him and filling him to the brim.
As Sylus finally lets go, he leans down to mold his chest to Xavier’s back, his lips trailing along his shoulder blade as he eases every twitch of cum deeper inside Xavier. His hips have a mind of their own, pushing further and further until Xavier pulls off your clit with a soft pop, his cheek resting on your inner thigh.
“Good?” Sylus whispers, kissing the shell of Xavier’s ear when he nods. “Clean me up, love.” He pulls out of Xavier, standing up and letting Xavier kneel in front of him. His fingers thread the same path that yours did through his hair, allowing him to clean Sylus’ cock of the remnants of cum.
Xavier sits back on his knees, his hole pulsing with every beat of his heart, trying to keep every last drop of cum inside because having to deal with the cleanup of dried come on the carpet will be hard to explain to the royal owners. There’s a moment where Xavier and Sylus stare at each other, their eyes shining so bright that you find yourself desperate for more again.
“Sy…” You whimper, sitting up. “Need more.”
“Oh, princess,” Sylus chuckles, walking over to you and helping you stand with a hand in yours. “We’re not done with you, either.” His voice is sultry, lips finding yours in a kiss that steals the thoughts from your head. You can’t think straight when Sylus’ tongue tangles with yours, his hands steadying your hips and letting you feel his still hard cock poking your hip.
“Xavier?” Sylus rarely uses Xavier’s name, and he stares at Sylus with wide eyes, his cheeks colored pink from the hot sting of his hole. “Can you come sit on the chair for me, love?”
The question is met with obedience, and Xavier comes over to sit on the chair. “Turn to the side– yeah, that’s it.” Sylus kisses you again, quick and fleeting, before turning you to face Xavier as he sits to the side of the chair. “Bend over, princess.”
The hand that once arched Xavier’s back now arches yours, pushing you down until your toes are barely brushing the carpeted floor. It’s enough to give you some semblance of balance while still trusting most of your movements to Sylus as he settles behind you.
“Still hard?” Xavier teases, his breath coming in low gasps as he comes down from the intense feeling. It’s not every day he’s fucked so hard like that, and it takes him a moment to recover before he focuses on your warm breath fanning out across his hard cock.
“Dragons have amazing stamina,” Sylus mumbles, his attention focused on the flutter of your pussy around nothing, coaxing him closer and closer until he’s pushing just the thick head of his cock past your muscle. “You’re okay, kitten?”
Even though you were just riding him, Sylus insists on asking to make sure you’re okay, and you respond with a creaky nod, your neck still adjusting to the way you’re bent over the armrest. One of your hands holds onto Xavier’s thigh, nails digging into the skin as Sylus rests almost all of his weight against you.
His cock fills you so well, more than Xavier’s in terms of girth, but the length barely brushes against your G-spot at this angle. Your toes try to curl, but the soft fabric of the carpet anchors you in the foggy pleasure that threatens to blind you from the aching cock inches from your lips.
Your eyes meet Xavier’s, and his fingers hold onto your hair as you sink halfway down his cock, his taste spreading out across your tongue. The way he stretches your lips helps you keep silent as Sylus starts to move, his hips meeting your ass with each punishing thrust.
“Pr– princess, fu–…” Xavier stops, his head falling back as you use your tongue to tease his slit, your eyes closing in ecstasy. Your previous orgasm still lingers in your movements, and every strangled whimper is muffled by his cock on your tongue.
“Keeping her quiet– I, fuck, see,” Sylus’ chest vibrates against your back as he speaks, the intensity of his thrusts never slowing despite just fucking Xavier. The tight clench of your walls around him is enough to have Sylus biting lightly into your shoulder—his own attempt to stay quiet despite how much noise you all have already made.
Xavier guides you, his touch never demanding but grounding you in the myriad of sensations that tickle your nerves. His thumb rubs a slow circle into the side of your neck, easing the tense muscle there that works as you swallow around him.
It isn’t until the first smack against your ass rings out in the room that Xavier’s hips have a mind of their own. You whine, your eyes filling with tears, as you clench around Sylus, the brief hint of pleasurable pain ringing through you until Sylus soothes it with the warmth of his palm.
“There you go,” Sylus breathes, his lips brushing your shoulder blade as he leans down to kiss at whatever inch of skin he can reach. “You take it like such a good little princess.”
The praise has your hips wiggling, but with little to no traction on the ground, you’re forced to lower yourself deeper onto Xavier’s cock. Soft silver hair tickles your nose, but the scent that is so uniquely Xavier calms you down enough to swallow around him once more.
“Pri– don’t want to hu– hurt you,” Xavier groans when another harsh smack to your ass pushes you further onto him. “Be care– ful.”
“Mmmhm,” you hum against him, the hand on his thigh squeezing in some sort of silent reassurance that you’ll be okay. You want this. Especially knowing that when you three part for the night, it will likely be some time before you’re all together again.
Especially with the new offers for Xavier’s hand… You force yourself to stop thinking of the possibilities, of the idea that Xavier will be forced into something he doesn’t want. For now, you enjoy this.
You enjoy the tender cradle of your head as Xavier’s fingers hold you, letting you bob up and down as you please. And the soft praise that Sylus peppers across your back as he fucks into you with the reckless abandon of a dragon—and you love it.
“Getting close, princess,” Sylus mumbles the words against your shoulder, standing tall once more and delivering another slap to your other cheek. “You clench around me– fuck– every time I do that…” He rubs at the red mark with his thumb, his hips bouncing against your ass. “You like it?”
You try to nod, but it’s hard with Xavier’s cock filling your throat.
“She definitely i–s,” Xavier stutters out, his body pliant after being fucked but still so on edge.
“Fu–ck… Going to fill you up,” Sylus whispers, his chest and neck flushed a pretty shade of pink. Xavier watches from his seat on the chair, enjoying the view he gets of you being claimed so thoroughly by Sylus while knowing he’ll get a turn soon. “Is that okay?”
The answering hum you make around Xavier’s cock is met with a curse from Xavier.
Your body hums with pleasure as you feel Sylus twitch once, then again, as he fills you with as much cum as he filled Xavier with. It soaks your walls, the liquid threatening to spill out the moment Sylus withdraws from your pussy, but his fingers quickly replace his cock, coaxing the white release back into your fluttering hole.
“Come, love.” Sylus gestures for Xavier to stand, pointing to the couch. “We don’t want anything to come out, do we?”
Xavier shakes his head. “Clean up is going to be hard,” he mumbles, stealing a kiss from Sylus. His tongue tangles with Sylus’, meeting him halfway as Xavier reaches up to toy with Sylus’ nipples once more. “What about you?” He asks, peppering kisses along Sylus’ jawline as you lie limp against the armrest. Your body is pliant, chest heaving with breath as tears of pleasure threaten to ruin your makeup.
“I’ve finished twice,” Sylus mumbles, kissing Xavier soft and sweet, “my prince and princess deserve some attention.” He reaches down, stroking Xavier slowly, before guiding him to lie sideways on the couch.
“Alright, princess,” Sylus chuckles when he sees you still lying there. “Can you handle one more?” You nod, too desperate for release and craving them again. “We’ve got you… Come here.” Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you up and resting you down on the couch next to Xavier.
Arms come to wrap around your middle, and you feel the familiar poking of Xavier’s long cock between your thighs. “One more for us, princess,” Xavier whispers against your shoulder, watching as you arch back into him and let him slide inch by inch in your slick heat. “Good girl…”
As Xavier gives you a moment to adjust to his length, Sylus sits on the couch, his thigh right next to your head. Calloused fingers lift your head, and the plush muscle of his leg cushions your cheek. “Here,” Sylus says, his touch gentle as he kneads your breast. “Use my leg to muffle the sounds.”
“Ye–ah, Xavier…” You whimper, turning your head to bite into Sylus’ thigh. When the thrusts pick up, turning into a rough meeting of skin on skin, you clutch at whatever you can reach.
One of your hands grips Xavier’s bicep, his strength a match for Sylus’ as he holds you right where he wants you. The other hand comes up to lace with Sylus’ squeezing with all your strength as Xavier fucks into you with the urgency of a man not wanting anyone to walk in on you three.
But you forgot that you didn’t close the door all the way.
“Where is the Crown Prince?”
“Has he run off? My daughter wishes to speak with him.”
Jeremiah listens to the incessant murmurs in the crowd, his eyes frantically searching but finding no explanation for where Xavier went. It’s also odd that Sylus and the princess are gone as well…
“I swear, I don’t know why his father chose me to punish as being his watcher…” Jeremiah mumbles under his breath, walking out into the entryway and looking around for any trace of the prince. Instead, he finds nothing but soft noises that are mostly muffled, but with Jeremiah’s own training, he knows to pick up on the subtle things.
A few expletives directed towards Xavier are uttered as he walks closer, his cautious steps ready to turn biting if it really is Xavier that has snuck off to do god knows what.
“Right there– fu… Xavier–” Your voice hits Jeremiah’s ears before he knows what he’s looking at. The small gap in the door is enough for Jeremiah to catch a glimpse of what’s happening. Your leg suspended in the air by Xavier’s strong hand, his cock pumping in and out of you with urgency yet still complete reverence, and Sylus’ naked body lounging next to the two, his cock limp but skin flushed with the evidence of their pleasure.
Jeremiah’s eyes widen when you crest over the edge, your pussy clamping down on Xavier’s cock in an attempt to milk your other lover for everything he’s got. The watcher can’t help the heat that builds low in his stomach, the blood rushing south in a way that he will surely have to attend to when he returns to the palace.
He knew something was going on with the Crown Prince and both you and Sylus, but to see it in action like this? Jeremiah’s ears burn as he hears Xavier mumble something unintelligible into your ear, and your answering nod is met with even harsher thrusts.
Jeremiah only watches for a few more seconds, noting the way your breasts bounce as Xavier doesn’t let up despite your orgasm already pulsing through you. He’s too overwhelmed with this realization, and the extremely tight seams of his pants.
Xavier finishes with a groan of your name, his fingers digging into your thigh as he holds you still, filling you up with even more cum. Some of it leaks out around his cock, ruining the couch below you, but the three of you are in too much bliss to care, not when you’re full with both of your lovers, and satiated with fantasies to dream of for weeks to come.
“We must clean up,” Sylus whispers after a few moments, his fingers twirling at both yours and Xavier’s hair. “Surely people will be getting suspicious.”
Helping you stand, the two men make quick work of your corset and dress, knowing it will be harder to put that on than their own suits. Cool air hits your legs, and you feel the distinct dribble of cum down your thigh.
Sylus chuckles. “These panties won’t be able to keep everything in,” he mumbles, helping you step into the undergarments while Xavier helps with your shoes. They both press a quick kiss to your leg, standing up and dressing themselves, while stopping to steal kisses between the three of you.
It’s not perfect, but as you all freshen up and finish getting composed, Jeremiah walks too fast down the hall and back into the ballroom.
“Oh, hey,” Luke points at Jeremiah, his smile crooked at the red flush on Jeremiah’s cheeks. “You’re the Crown Prince’s entourage, right?” He nods, and Kieran pops up next to Luke, half his face obscured by the shadows. “We’ve been looking for Prince Sylus.” He says it with a whisper, as if calling him Prince is devaluing his strength as a dragon.
“Uh… Uhm…” Jeremiah stutters, shuffling away from the entrance to the ballroom and closer to a corner. “He– uh… I don’t know– where he is…”
Just as he says that, gasps echo through the room as Xavier makes his entrance first. His hair is not as flat as it was before he left the ballroom, with silver strands sticking out in odd ways. His steps are measured, walking into the crowd and trying to disappear amongst the fawning princesses.
But then Xavier meets Jeremiah’s eye, and he knows. He can tell in the red flush across Jeremiah’s cheeks, and the way Luke and Kieran stand just a little too close to his confidant.
A subtle shake of his head, and a glare. Tell no one.
Jeremiah’s heart may as well have burst out of his chest, and he knows he’ll have to answer to his friend and Prince the moment they board their carriage for Philos, but his thoughts are paused when Sylus walks in.
“Boss!” Luke whispers, sneaking back into the shadows and away from Jeremiah.
“He looks happy,” Kieran comments, his shoulder brushing Jeremiah’s as you walk in not long after Sylus. With the love-struck smile stuck on Sylus’ face, and the obviously disheveled skirts of your dress, the twin can guess what his boss has been up to, especially considering he’s heard Sylus mumbling both yours and Xavier’s name in his cave.
Jeremiah curses, his eyes closing as Kieran claps him on the shoulder. “Looks like you’ll be in deeper shit for whatever you saw, huh?” Wiggling eyebrows and the sly smirk on Kieran’s face as he sneaks away to meet with his boss don’t help Jeremiah’s predicament, not to mention the strain in his pants as he walks to grab a drink from the refreshment table.
Meanwhile, you prepare to excuse yourself for the night, not wanting to see princesses fawning over one of your lovers, while the other is smiling too wide for the onlookers not to be suspicious. And with the come soaking your panties and dangerously close to leaking down the inside of your thigh? Perhaps it’s time to retire to your palace.
But this time, you have the memories of your shared time in that parlor with your two lovers to last until the next time you meet.
·······•✦ description: in which you're stuck staying in a hotel together after working with Sylus on an undercover mission in the N109 Zone, but the only available space is a room with one bed…
·······•✦ pairing: sylus x afab!reader
·······•✦ word count: 4.5k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Enemies to Lovers, But they were never 'really' enemies, There Was Only One Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Grinding, Accidental Boner, Sexual Tension, sylus is a loverboy, past sexual encounters, Wearing His Clothes, Post-Mission, Missionary Position, Undressing, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Creampie, Smut, Fluff, Teasing, Making Out, No use of y/n, POV Second Person
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head at the revelation before you.
It was one thing to be stuck in the N109 Zone on a mission with Sylus, and it was another to be forced to stay in a hotel at nearly the complete outskirts of the bustling underground network of criminals with the head of the largest business in said city. Oh, the best part? There is only one bed.
“You don’t have to sound so enthused, sweetie.” The way Sylus relaxes back against the headboard makes your cheeks burn a light pink. It’s quite embarrassing how attracted to him you are, how flushed and shy you get around him with just a glance.
He’s infuriatingly handsome, crossing his legs at the ankles while you pace around the room, running a hand through your hair, and shaking your head. It’s like he’s enjoying seeing you so worked up, your whole being searching for a way out of this. Spending a whole night in the same room as him? You’re asking for trouble, you know it.
But the thought of the trouble is also addictive. There is a part of you that wants to be greedy again. After that time in the faraway desert, his chest soaking wet and bubbles covering the chiseled angles of his abdominal muscles, you had slowly become accustomed to the moments of tension and intimacy between you. It wouldn’t be too hard to just lean into a bit once more… To lose yourself in the desires of h–
“Is anyone in there?” Sylus is sitting up now, an elbow on his knee as he looks at you with a smirk. “You look like you’re lost in thought.”
“Just…” You pause, eyes flickering around until you land on the couch in the corner. It’s small, even smaller than you, and it would be torture to sleep on for either you or Sylus, but it’s a way out of the tension beginning to mount in the room, so you walk over and take a seat on the fake leather cushion. “Getting comfortable for the night.”
Sylus’ eyebrow rises, his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the hotel room. His jeans scuff together as he walks, measured steps, one by one, until he towers over you. Arms cross over his chest, a look telling you that he can see straight through your lie, but doesn’t choose to call you on it, flashing across his face.
“You’re not sleeping on that discount pleather sofa.” Shaking his head, you decide to defy him further by turning your body and stretching your legs out across the cushions. With your back against the armrest, the bottoms of your feet are pressed right up against the other side. For you to sleep on it would mean curling up into a ball, and you can only imagine the back pain…
“Yes, I am.” Your indignant tone draws a chuckle from his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drops his arms by his sides. “I’ll be fine. You take the bed.”
His hum echoes through the room, and you feel him trail his gaze across your body. “I know you’re tiny, sweetie, but even this couch is going to be uncomfortable.” Leaning down, one of his hands plants itself on the armrest, bicep dangerously close to your back. The air is sucked out of the space between you, and you look up at him to find his stare back on your face.
For a moment, you are unsure of what to say, stuck between accepting his offer and being stubborn.
You choose stubborn.
“It’s okay, Sylus. I’ll be– woah!” Your sentence is cut off by a yelp, Sylus’s arms settling below your knees and behind your back. His bridal style carry brings you right over to the plush queen-sized bed.
Making sure not to just throw you on there, he lays you down, your jeans and sweater rubbing your sweaty skin. It’s a bit uncomfortable, and you need to take a shower, but you’re stuck under his stare.
“You won’t be okay.” He says firmly, moving to the sofa and sitting on it. Being taller than you, he looks like a giant, his legs bent and his arms crossed behind his head. “I’ll take the sofa. You deserve the rest since you did so well on the mission today.”
His praise doesn’t fall on deaf ears, and you blink slowly before your mouth moves faster than your head.
“Let’s just share the bed.”
There is a hint of surprise etched in the sharp lines of his face, but it’s immediately quelled by a gentle smile.
You’ve walked around this line of definition when it comes to your relationship. Are you or aren’t you? Even you aren’t sure. Yet there is a wicked fun in the indulgences that come with the push and pull.
The smile he gives you, however, borders on enamored. His brows drift up higher, wrinkles forming on his forehead as he turns to face you, elbows anchoring on his knees.
“Are you sure?” It’s a sincere question, not one said in jest. All in a moment, the atmosphere shifts, the slow-burning fire threatening to ignite into an inferno. “You did most of the work today. You deserve a comfortable bed for yourself.”
He always makes sure to tell you how strong you are. In the face of danger, you don’t back down, handling everything on your own, because when have you ever needed a partner? It’s not like anyone has ever truly made you feel appreciated, but with each one of Sylus’ compliments, the ice block gets slowly chipped away.
“Yeah…” Nodding, you sit up, wincing at the stickiness of your clothes from dried sweat. “I really need to take a shower, but we didn’t bring any spare clothes.”
Sylus is back to his teasing self when his hands drift to the buttons of his shirt. It isn’t until he’s reached the middle, his tanned chest peeking out from behind the dark fabric, that he speaks. “Here,” the deep, rich tone of his voice makes you shiver, “wear this. I didn’t taint it with my sweat.”
“I don’t want… to leave you… without a shirt...” Your sentence trails off into obscurity when the last button right below his navel comes undone.
Having seen him naked before, you knew what to expect, but wow, it still threw you for a loop every time. The hardened plains of his chest and abdomen should feel uncomfortable to the touch, but there is a need to reach out and run your fingers along the bumps of his abs.
“I’m serious, sweetie.” He lets the shirt fall from his shoulders, holding it out to you with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Go shower… Unless you want me to join you?”
The roll of your eyes is betrayed by the deep flush of your cheeks. Beneath your skin, it’s as if a pool of lava is bubbling. Even the mere thought of it has goosebumps appearing on your arms.
Standing up, you take the shirt from him and drape it over your arm. “Thanks, but no thanks.” You don’t miss the draw of his stare along your body, the curves of your hips and thighs, drinking you in as if he were seeing you bare again. “I won’t be long.”
As soon as you’re out of the shower, it doesn’t take long for you to dry off, and you look at the button-up shirt draped across a bar on the bathroom wall. It’s silky smooth and smells of his cologne, a deep musk and bergamot wafting toward you as you slip your panties on.
“Wow.” It isn’t often that you can actually hear the breath leave Sylus’s lungs, but when you step out of the bathroom, your hair falling off your shoulders and body swallowed by Sylus’s shirt, you think he might actually be suffocating.
“Oh, stop it.” The apples of your cheeks peek out as you fight a smile. Sylus’s shirt comes to just above your knees, and you stand in the wake of steam billowing from behind you.
Then you look up to realize what he’s wearing.
Which is basically nothing.
Black boxers with a deep red waistband sit low on his hips, showing off the trail of his V-Line that leads beneath the fabric. There are a few veins on the smooth expanse of his pelvis, right below his navel. You watch the tensing of his thighs as he crosses his legs over the blanket.
“You’re staring, sweetie.” He purrs, his hands threading together to rest on his abs. It obscures your vision, and for probably the fifth time that night, you roll your eyes.
“You wish.” Your mumble is followed by a yawn, and the events of the day begin to catch up to you. Fighting multiple factions in the N109 Zone is tough, but with Sylus by your side, the most powerful man probably in all of the city, and Linkon, it’s much easier.
Even so, fatigue creeps up like a predator stalking its prey, and without another word, you walk over to the side of the bed and plop down. With darkness always shrouding the city, it’s much easier to settle into bed. However, the man beside you is very distracting.
The click of the lamp has a near-complete inky black washing over you, and after a bit of shuffling, you’re under the comforter, your body relaxing instantly despite the presence of the man beside you. His heavy breaths are the only thing you can hear, and after a few minutes, he shifts his position.
“You did amazing today.” His voice cuts through the silence. In the back of his mind, he knows that you get shy with compliments. “The Hunter’s Association was right to hire you.”
With the way he is speaking and the feeling of his eyes on you, you think he’s turned on his side. But even in the darkness, his affection shines through. Your bottom lip tucks into your mouth, unsure of what to say besides a nearly inaudible “thank you.”
But he hears it. He always hears it.
“No need to thank me.” Sylus hums, watching the way your chest rises and falls with soft breaths.
Sleep doesn’t come. It’s so cold, and with just Sylus’s shirt hanging off your shoulders, it only causes you to shiver slightly. The comforter isn’t enough to keep your body heat close to you, and with each yawn, your body shakes.
“Cold?” If you move just a bit closer, you can feel his body pressed against yours, but the tension in the air is tight, your stomach fluttering with nerves as if you hadn’t indulged in each other before.
At his question, you nod. He’s very perceptive in the dark, so you know he will see your response. Yet, the silence is killing you. “A little.” You whisper, moving back around so you are lying flat against the mattress. His stare seems more intense now that you catch the glow of his crimson irises, your eyes getting accustomed to the dark.
“Come here.” A light touch to your hip has you tensing up, awkward at the prospect of him wanting to hold you so close. He always had some sort of affectionate aura to him, lulling you into falling deeper and deeper for him, but it’s hard to believe that he would appreciate you despite how much he has already shown that he does.
“I’m fine.” Your stubborn response pulls a puff of air from his nose, and as his arm wraps around your waist, you allow him to pull you the short distance, maneuvering your body so you’re back on your side.
His hard chest meets your soft back, and through the thin fabric of his button-up shirt, heat wraps around you. It isn’t overwhelming; rather, a gentle heat that causes your muscles to loosen and your body to relax against him.
You can feel each breath he takes, from both his chest and from the movement of your hair. When he speaks again, his words brush against the back of your neck, and his arm tightens around your middle.
“You’re shivering, sweetie.” Gentle rubs start on your stomach, pulling you flush against him until his hips are pressing against you.
Shifting against him, you try to get comfortable, your bare legs rubbing on his under the blanket. It’s warm and relaxing, especially the way his hand massages you, his soft humming pulling a smile to your face.
Then, as you begin to drift in and out of sleep, you’re startled by a low grunt and his hand moving to grip your hip. Even when you try to turn around to see if anything is wrong, he stops you.
“Please – stop, ha, moving…” Your cheeks burn when you feel exactly what he means.
His hard length rubs against your ass, and each small movement from you only causes more friction. Arousal pools in your panties, as if you weren’t already turned on by the sight of him in nothing but his underwear.
The rush you get from knowing you caused his little problem is exhilarating. So you keep going. Slow, deliberate circles of your hips back against him, even as his grip gets tighter, have grunts and groans falling from his lips. A kiss is placed on the top of your head before he cranes his neck down to kiss right below your jaw.
“Sweetie…” His voice is clearer, a warning. “You know what you’re – getting into, right?”
“Mhm,” you hum, continuing the teasing until his hand slips under your shirt, now gripping the soft flesh of your thigh to completely stop your movements. “Why’d you stop me?”
Sylus chuckles, his nose following a line along your throat until he’s nipping at your pulse point. “Because you’re being a stubborn kitten right now.” All of the air seems to have been sucked out of the room, and you take a deep breath as his thumb brushes right below your navel.
“It’s not my fault you’re hard just from me accidentally rubbing against you.” Your counter has no weight behind it because soft gasps come from your lips as he pulls the shirt up, so the only barriers between you are your panties and his boxers.
“Are you sure it’s accidental?” With how big his hand is, the edge of your panties is teased by his pinkie finger, dipping under the fabric before teasing you with barely there touches. “You know how beautiful you look…” The warmth of his tongue traces behind your ear. “Just wearing my shirt and these panties.”
“Purely – fuck – accidental.” It’s not a convincing attempt, but he stays silent for a moment, holding you still as he grinds himself against your ass.
“Sweetie.” There’s a hitch in his voice, a plea that wouldn’t be discernible to anyone but you. “Please.”
The tension snaps as you turn onto your back, meeting Sylus’s gaze. He looks hungry, and in the darkness, his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. But you’re focused on the way his hand moves to your hip. He traces your hip, finding the bits of flesh on your waist addictive.
Your hand moves up to cup his jaw, lips parted in anticipation because no matter what, your body calls to him. With your thumb brushing his bottom lip, he raises an eyebrow in a silent question. He won’t trail his hand higher unless you agree.
“I love your hair.” Sylus’ eyes trail across your face, and he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “And your eyes.” A kiss over your closed eyelid. “And your nose.” A kiss to the tip of your nose. “And these soft lips.” He pauses, waiting for you to make the first move. No matter how much he wants you, he can’t bring himself to do anything except wait for your confirmation.
“Do it.” You whisper, looking between his eyes and his lips, hand moving to the back of his neck in an attempt to bring him closer. “Kiss me.”
So he does.
It’s a slow and tentative kiss, as if he hadn’t kissed you before. He had. And yet every time felt like the first. The moment your lips touched, he let out a sigh as if he had been waiting for this ever since the last time you kissed.
The tip of his nose brushes yours, head turning just slightly to deepen the kiss. When his hand dances up, thumb brushing your already peaked nipple, your lips part in a gasp, and he takes that opportunity to trace your bottom lip with his tongue. It’s so wet and warm, the way in which you engage in this push and pull, only for one of you to give in.
More often than not, it’s he who gives in.
“Sylus…” His name comes out as more of a whine than anything else, your fingers threading through his hair as your tongues poke and prod at each other.
Each breath he takes is a groan bordering on a growl, his hand palming at your breast as he slowly moves. His other hand hooks under your knee, pulling up and out so he can slot himself between your legs. On instinct, your other legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down until you can feel every inch of his throbbing cock beneath the confines of his boxers.
“Need you.” He pants, gripping the flesh of your thigh. His hand trails up the lines of your torso before tangling in your hair, holding you right where he wants to as he kisses along your jaw. A part of him doesn’t want to move from your lips, but every inch of you deserves the love and appreciation that he wishes to give you. “Need you so bad.”
The hand that isn’t threaded through his hair dips down to cup him through his boxers, the weight of his length heavy in your palm. He’s already achingly hard, a small wet patch in the front of his underwear that shows the desire he harbors.
Sylus groans, eyes closing and face falling into the crook of your neck. Everything about you is addicting, but he has already had a taste, and he doesn’t want to go back. The hand on your breast loosens, his hips instinctively grinding against your hand as if seeking some sort of relief to his need.
“May I?” He stutters, pulling back to look into your eyes. Before you know it, his fingers tug at your panties, and it isn’t until you give him a very obvious nod that he slides them down your legs. His lips follow a path right behind the undergarments, leaving open-mouthed kisses across your thigh, over your knee, before ending at your ankle.
“My pretty girl.” He takes a moment to admire you, tossing your panties to the side of the bed before pushing his shirt up your body to expose the hardened peaks of your nipples.
After a second of slightly awkward shuffling, his boxers are discarded right where your panties are. A bead of precum sits at his tip, and he holds the base as he drags himself through your wetness. Both of you release low moans, eyes closing as you revel in the intimate feeling between you.
“F–uck,” he whispers, watching with fascination as your entrance clenches around nothing. “As much as I – hmph – want a taste of you…” His other hand holds your waist, his gaze fixed on the rise and fall of your chest. Your curves have always been a perfect fit in his palm, the best handles for him to hold. “Are you ready for me?”
Sylus has always worried about your well-being, knowing you can carry your own in the face of danger, yet still feeling he should protect you. If, for some reason, you ever needed help, he would be at your beck and call. Even as he was putting just the head of his cock inside you, he wasn’t going to continue until he heard your explicit words.
“I’m ready, Sy.” You gasp, your fingers wrapping around his wrist as he lets his hips go forward just an inch. “Please, need more…” Your whine drifts into his ears, lulling him like a snake charmer. “Need all of you.”
That’s all he needs to hear before he’s going at a steady pace. Inch by inch, he’s filling you up until his pelvis is flush against yours. Skin on skin, his body heat transfers to you, causing sweat to accumulate on your brow.
Then, his palm presses on your lower abdomen. He can feel the tip of his length through your walls, and he can’t help the growl that vibrates through his chest. “Do you feel me, kitten?”
You nod, unable to form words with the way he’s stretched you out so well. He’s long, but not to the point of pain, curving directly up into your most sensitive spot, and you know that when he starts moving, you’ll be overwhelmed with the pleasure.
“You feel so good.” His words sound far away, and it isn’t until he starts moving that everything sounds like it’s in high-definition audio. “So beautiful.” Each whisper settles against your skin, following the immense pleasure with each full thrust forward.
Sylus starts off slow, with deep grinding thrusts where he’s angling his hips to reach every part inside you with precise ease. It’s slow and sensual, added to the hand still flat against your stomach, and it’s like you’re climbing a flight of stairs, the air pressure getting thinner and thinner with each step.
Your breath begins to fail you, chest flushed and nipples aching with each slap of his pelvis against your hips. With his pace speeding up, the noises echoing through the room change.
From low, gentle gasps and moans to loud, intense grunts and whines. Along with the clapping of his balls against your ass, it’s a cacophony of pleasure.
“These hips – fuck… I love them.” Sylus grunts, both of his hands now anchored on your hips. Bending down, his body envelops your own, lips finding one of your nipples as it bounces in his face.
Your whines increase, back arching as heat floods your body. His cock curves up, dragging against your walls with each sheath of himself in your tight heat. With a groan against your skin, he basks in the taut ring of muscles that only gets tighter with each suck on your sensitive bud.
Fingers find their way to his hair, clutching onto him like a lifeline as waves and waves of pleasure wash over you. From the way he feels inside you to the magic his hands and mouth are working, you don’t think you can feel any better.
And then his thumb pulls back the hood of your clit.
“Ah – Sylus… Ple–” your startled words are cut off by quick, calculated circles rubbing into your clit, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream.
“I know…” He does. He knows. Sylus can tell by the way your legs wrap around his waist, wanting him impossibly closer, even though his entire length is buried inside you. For him to get any closer would mean for your souls to merge, and well, he’s not against that.
Sylus’ breath is hot against your breast, sucking dark marks into the skin, and the thought crosses his mind that your skin would look amazing with a few reminders of just how much he can give you. You would look down, seeing the marks and remembering this night for weeks to come. He loved it.
With your head pressing back into the pillow, you whimper his name, only to be granted a hum that vibrates through your nipple. A sharp gasp follows, and you tighten the grip you have on his hair. Something akin to a chuckle comes from him, but you can only focus on the accumulation of pressure in your lower abdomen.
Each time he fully sheaths himself inside you, it's like you’re transported to another world. You feel so full, and your whole body rocks with his as he holds you in his arms.
If he wanted to speak, he couldn’t, too preoccupied in making mark after mark on your skin, alternating between flicking his tongue across your nipple to finding another empty expanse of your body to stake his claim to.
He’s not a possessive man, but he’s greedy. Which is why when you try to stutter out that you’re close, his incessant rubbing on your clit alternates to gentle pinches, feeling the way you throb under his digits and the way your pussy flutters around his length.
“Go – ahead.” He whispers, his breath fanning out across your spit-slicked skin. “Let go – ha – for me, pretty girl.”
His praise shoots straight to your soul, washing you in cold water that shocks you into oblivion. Lost in the sea of pleasure, your thighs lock around him, knees bent, and the heels of your feet pressing into his lower back to keep him right where you want him.
You’re so lost in the euphoria, your back arching and hand holding his head to your chest, that you don’t feel the groans that come from Sylus’ lips.
Sylus’ head is spinning with the painful pleasure of your fingers gripping onto his scalp, the pulsing of your pussy around him as he continues to stoke your fire with gentle strokes to your throbbing clit.
“Can I – fu- inside?” He’s holding your thighs, sitting up to watch the way your breasts move with each thrust.
“Ye–yes,” you whimper, overstimulation creeping into your veins and causing you to whimper. Your hand drops down from his hair, and Sylus’s digits fill the gaps.
Both of your hands are grasped in his, his warm palms holding your arms down into the bed. His nose grazes yours, and in the haze of your past orgasm, you see the inferno in his eyes ignite.
His cock twitches, emptying himself inside you in a few deep grinds of his hips against yours. The grip he has on your hands would normally hurt, but instead, it anchors you, forcing you to feel every inch of admiration that swims in his crimson irises.
“Oh my –”
“Yeah,” you cut him off, your lips curling into a smile as he collapses on top of you. His arms wrap around your back, holding you close to him as he presses absentminded kisses to your neck.
With Sylus’ shirt still halfway draped over your sweaty frame, you bask in the warmth that radiates from his chest. He’s so warm, so inviting, and you think that you can spend forever in his arms.
You’re not sure how much time passes before he sits up to look at you, his fingers massaging your lower back. “You should go use the bathroom, sweetie.” He says, his deep voice edging into a gentle balm across your face.
“Okay…” His length slips from you, and as you walk into the joined bathroom, you hear him call out from the bed.
“The bed is cold without you…” You can imagine the smirk on his face, and you don’t answer. You can only think that perhaps fate gave you a room with one bed.
But you also know that perhaps you were just meant to always be together like this…
·······•✦ description: this sickness has rendered you bedridden, unable to even answer the phone when your amazing boyfriend calls. and rafayel, of course, has to check in on his girlfriend, especially when she's not answering her phone.
·······•✦ pairing: rafayel x afab!reader
·······•✦ word count: 8.9k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Smut, Dirty Talk, Ultra fluff, sick reader, slight Breeding Kink, Spooning Sex, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sickness, Bathing Together, Aftercare, Reader-Insert, Praise Kink, Pet Names, Teasing
·······•✦ posted on: ao3 (not yet)
All it takes is one email to Captain Jenna.
Your laptop closes with a click, and the room is plunged into darkness once more. Even the curtains have blotted out all light from the sun, ensuring you can curl right back up under the covers and squish a pillow over your head.
The pressure of your hand on the bridge of your nose was agony, and now that you’ve dropped it down beside you, you can finally relax in peace. Sleep has eluded you for nearly the entire night, and when it was time to wake up for work, your body felt too heavy even to move.
“Can I please just sleep, body?” Your groan to your own body is answered with another sharp pain radiating from the base of your skull. It pulls another whimper from your lips, silently pleading with your own head to just stop and let you get some sleep.
In the back of your mind, you think about calling Rafayel to help you—or even just to pick up some medicine so you can actually get some sleep. He’s always been a master at helping your migraines, whether it be massages, picking up medicine, or making you his signature soup that seems to eliminate the pain after one bowl.
But before you can reach for your phone, your body decides it is time for sleep, and you’re out like a light.
Strange dreams plague you. They’re almost nightmares, but they feel so real that you wake with a gasp every few hours. Whatever sickness is making its way through your body is affecting you in more ways than one, affecting you not only physically but mentally. Every time you wake up, it's another ruined bout of sleep meant to help you heal.
Sweat drenches your forehead, and each sip of your water brings a sour taste to your mouth. The warmth only makes you more queasy, and by the time night comes, which you only know because the clock on your bedside table reads just after seven at night, you’re ready for another micro-nap.
A few times during your sleep-addled trips to the toilet, you catch the illumination of your phone blinking. Sometimes it’s a text, and other times it’s a phone call, but the fog making a mess of your thoughts isn’t helping you reach any further than the blanket around your waist.
By the time you actually think about answering the phone, your body dips back into sleep for a few hours, curling into your pillow. You don’t care that your hair is a messy nest on the top of your head, or your clothes are wrinkly from how often you’ve changed sleeping positions. The only thing on your mind is the pain in your head, the congested breaths you manage lying propped up, and the sleep that you so desperately chase despite sleeping the entire day away.
Your phone remains on silent all night, sitting face down on your nightstand, right next to your glasses. Every message from Tara, Simone, and—the one who has sent the most texts and the most missed calls—Rafayel, is lost to the ether, waiting to be answered from your home screen while you try to sleep through the night and most of the morning away.
The hours upon hours of sleep don’t help you, even when you are finally able to evade the nightmares for more than a few hours. In fact, they only serve to send aching numbness to your joints on the occasions when you trudge to the bathroom to throw up or to the kitchen to replenish your water.
It could be days that you sleep.
You’ve already emailed Captain Jenna to take a few days off, and with the weekend included, you should have plenty of time to rest and recuperate. However, the rest you’re getting isn’t enough, and you don’t have the strength even to order food to be delivered, let alone get up out of bed to pick up the delivery.
You must be hungry; that much is obvious, but in between naps and trips to the bathroom, your brain doesn’t recognize the rumbling in your stomach or the new ache that’s starting due to the lack of nutrition.
You’re not sure how long it’s been before there’s a sharp knock on your door.
A loud voice echoes through your apartment, pulling you from your sickness-induced haze. “Beloved?” Rafayel yells, not caring that he might disturb the neighbors at four in the morning. “If you don’t answer in the next five seconds, I’m opening the door with the spare key.”
Silence.
Click.
The lock to your door pops before clicking again as Rafayel shuts it. He slides off his shoes—though he doesn’t do it with much grace—and stumbles through your apartment, looking through every room. “Love?” He calls again, peeking into the bathroom right beside your bedroom and finding nothing. By the time he gets to your room, he’s cracking the door open. “Are you okay?”
The moment his eyes lock onto you, he nearly collapses in relief. “God, you scared the shit out of me!” He almost screams, but he’s already created enough ruckus to disturb the neighbors. “Do you know how frantic I was calling your friends to see if they’ve heard from you, I mean… It’s been a whole day since I last spoke to you. I’ve been worried sick that you were–” he stops, clutching invisible pearls as if he were in some sort of drama show. “I don’t know, I don’t wanna think about it.”
His ranting is cut off by your sleepy groan, sitting up to face the now blinding light of the hallway with squinted eyes. You’re too stunned by the sudden brightness to even see Rafayel standing there in a matching pair of silk purple pajamas, to which you have the pink equivalent.
“Love…” He pouts, rushing forward to sit on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?” You shake your head, unable to speak right now. “Oh, my beloved.” All of a sudden, his caring heart switches from slightly upset to complete worry.
Rafayel raises his palm to rest across your forehead, brushing away your hair. “You’re burning up!” His eyebrows furrow, and his palm shifts from your forehead to your cheek, holding you like you’re a fragile sculpture. “Not feeling well?”
You nod.
The first word you mumble in days is scratchy as it comes out. “Tired.”
“I know you are,” Rafayel whispers, his thumb tracing along the edge of your cheekbone. He watches you nuzzle into his touch, your eyes closing. “You’re sick, beloved. You’re gonna be tired.” Then your stomach decides to make a grand announcement, now that someone who will listen is here. “But you have to eat something.”
You manage to open your eyes and check the clock on your nightstand. “It’s four in the morning.”
“Your stomach doesn’t care what time it is.” His voice is so soothing, but with a hint of underlying worry at seeing your face flushed and your eyes still half-open. “I can make you some chicken noodle soup or a smoothie?” The mention of any sort of food has you opening your eyes even wider. Despite the lingering fatigue, your stomach rumbles again.
“Anything,” you whisper, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout. With Rafayel here, you can be vulnerable and ask for help. The only light coming into the room is the sparse streaks from the moon and the bright hallway, painting half of Rafayel’s face with a cool white glow.
He looks like an angel, sitting there on your bed, giving you the softest smile. Even now, with messy hair, flushed cheeks, and a runny nose, he thinks you look beautiful. More beautiful than any work of art he’s seen, or any sculpture displayed in the highest honors.
“Okay,” Rafayel says, rising from the bed. When you whine in disappointment at the loss, he chuckles. “I’ll just be out in the kitchen making you some soup.” Leaning down, he kisses your forehead. “You get some more rest, okay? I’ll wake you up when it’s finished.”
Too tired to argue, you nod your head and collapse on the bed with a grunt. Your body twists further into the blanket, clutching at a loose pillow to cuddle instead of Rafayel, whom you would normally cling to in the middle of sleep.
Out in the kitchen, the clinks and clangs of pots and pans make way for the silence. Luckily, the shrill metal hitting together doesn’t make your head hurt more, but with your brain muddled between sniffles and coughs, you can barely register pain behind the overwhelming exhaustion. Maybe it hurts, and maybe it doesn’t; you can’t tell.
You can hear the faint boiling of the broth, and if you concentrate, you can smell the familiar scents of chicken noodle soup wafting toward you. Your stomach growls in answer, and you almost drag yourself up out of bed just to get a glimpse of his cooking. Sleep is impossible right now, not with the anticipation of food from your amazing boyfriend.
Rafayel has always been a good cook. Between anniversary dinners and simple snacks on the nights you spend in his house, he’s capable of doing so much with a multitude of ingredients. You’ve always joked that he should be an artist in the kitchen, with the beautiful plates he’s put together from ingredients you wouldn’t ever think could make something so pretty. So, when he walks into the room with a steaming bowl of soup some minutes later, you sit up as much as you can in bed, letting him turn the bedside lamp on.
“Delivery!” He whispers, sitting closer to you on the side of the bed. “Come here,” Rafayel whispers, helping you prop up with a pillow before holding the bowl of soup himself. When you reach for it, he shakes his head and clicks his tongue at you. “No, no… I don’t want you to move a muscle, beloved.” He leans forward, holding the bowl and a spoonful of finely chopped vegetables and pieces of chicken. “Open wide.”
The whites of your eyes show as you roll your eyes, but you let Rafayel feed you nonetheless. Secretly, you like being pampered by him, but not when you’re so incapacitated that you can barely stand from the bed. The first bite goes down smoothly with minimal chewing, and you realize just how cold you were. The warmth that radiates as it settles in your stomach makes you shiver.
“Good?” Rafayel asks, the hint of anticipation leaking into his voice.
Your throat is still sore, still hard to get even a word out, but you nod. “Mhm,” a low hum, making sure he knows how appreciative you are of him and how much you love him. “Thank– you.” Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you croak out those two words.
Rafayel feeds you another bite, a low noise rumbling in his chest. “Don’t be silly.” Another bite of soup. “I’m just glad you’re okay. The radio silence worried me, and” another bite, and a stolen kiss to your forehead, “it’s my job as your amazing boyfriend to nurse you back to health.”
It’s a relief to see you smile, the harsh lines of your pillow carved into the side of your cheek now almost gone as you turn your head to the side to cough. Grabbing a tissue, Rafayel wipes your nose with his free hand, tossing the used paper into the waste bin. For someone who has been so picky around other people, he so willingly wipes your nose and would dive into dirt to help you.
“Right,” you mumble, scrunching your nose. “Amazing boyfriend.” The confirmation brings a smile to Rafayel’s face because he decides to ignore the playful sarcasm. After another coughing fit, you speak again in a rasp. “Sorry for worrying you.”
Rafayel makes a noise of disapproval, setting the nearly empty bowl of soup aside when you shake your head at another bite. “No apologies, beloved.” With his hands free, he cups both of your cheeks, tilting your head up to look into your eyes. “Your body needed the rest, and it still needs the rest.” He looks at your phone again. “Have you talked to Captain Jenna?”
You nod. “I’m taking the rest of the week off.” The rest of the week being Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, plus the weekend.
“Good,” Rafayel hums, rubbing circles into your cheeks as he assesses your condition. The redness has definitely faded from your complexion, and the light has returned to your eyes, despite still looking exhausted. “Now, I’m gonna go rinse this bowl out, then I’ll help you brush your teeth and curl back up in bed to rest.” He smooths your hair back, feeling your forehead. “Do you wanna wait until the morning to take a bath?”
“Mhm,” you mumble, your voice slurring from the warmth of the soup that soothes you to the point that your eyes close and you lean further into Rafayel’s palms. “Morning.”
A soft laugh comes from the man in front of you. “Alrighty,” he whispers, easing you back onto the bed with gentle hands. “You relax right there, I’ll collect you when I’m finished washing the bowl.”
You don’t register much of what he’s saying, too content with the food and care being shown to you. It’s not like you haven’t been sick since you started dating Rafayel over a year ago, but it’s never been this bad. It’s a feeling akin to intense exhaustion, with a lingering headache from sinus pressure. It leaves you completely immobile in bed while you hope to sleep the pain and weariness away. You don’t know if it’s the flu or something worse, but you’re too tired to get up and find out.
For now? It’s rest and fluids, which is exactly what Rafayel is ready to provide.
“Love?” The feeling of a hand on your shoulder, lightly shaking you, rouses you from your started slumber. You don’t even remember hearing Rafayel wash the bowl and spoon from your soup, but he’s back with a soft smile. “Let’s get your teeth brushed, and I’ll tuck you back into bed.”
He helps you up from bed, wrapping one arm around your lower back and the other opening the bathroom door for you. It’s pitch black in there, and you hear Rafayel wince as he kicks the toilet.
“Ouch!” He chuckles, reaching over to flip on the light switch. Your whimper is answered by a kiss to your temple and the shuffling of your toiletries around to grab the toothpaste and toothbrush. “It’s just for two minutes while you brush your teeth.” Rafayel leans closer, pecking your temple. “Just think about me kicking this stupid toilet, and you’ll feel better.”
You take the toothbrush from his hand, leaning into Rafayel as you brush your teeth with closed eyelids. By the time you’re finished, a lingering nausea sits low in your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to throw up everything you just ate.
Wordlessly, Rafayel switches the light back off, guiding you back to the bed that is bathed in moonlight and the illuminated hallway. The covers envelop you in warmth, but as he moves to walk away, you grab his wrist with a weak grip.
“Stay.”
The word hits Rafayel deep in his chest, and as he bends down to kiss your forehead, you mumble the word again.
“Alright, alright.” He acts as if he’s sighing, but you can see the slight smirk on his lips as he crawls into bed beside you. “Cuddle with your pillow for now. I don’t want you to have to take care of me if I get sick from you.” Either way, he’s lying on his side facing you. “If you don’t have a fever tomorrow, I’ll give you so many cuddles you’ll be sick of me.”
Your eyes are already closed, but you nod. The thought of curling up on Rafayel’s chest, taking his body heat, and listening to his heart beneath your ear? It’s a dream come true, but all you can hope for is that in the morning, you’ll be free of the debilitating fever.
“Good night, Raf.” You whisper, reaching out with a blind hand to find his.
Rafayel lays his hand over yours, his thumb rubbing slow circles across your knuckles. “Good night, beloved.”
And as sleep claims you, for the first time since you started feeling sick, your body is at ease.
When you finally rouse from your slumber, the sunlight from midday beams in through a crack in your curtains. It’s surprising to you when you open your eyes, and you’re not hit with a dizzying pain radiating from what seemed like the inside of your skull.
The other pleasant surprise is seeing a pair of blue and pink irises flickering across your features.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Rafayel smiles, brushing a strand of your hair from in front of your eyes. “Well, I guess a more appropriate term would be ‘good afternoon’.”
You finally have the energy to laugh at him. “What time is it?” Your voice is more solid than it was at four in the morning. For a second, you stare at Rafayel, admiring the spattering of moles along his neck, chest, and face.
He says something, but you don’t hear.
“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow, caught staring and not even listening to the answer.
Rafayel laughs, a bright chuckle that sends a rush of comfort through you. “Too busy staring at me to listen? Or is the sickness affecting your hearing, as well?” He jokes, running his thumb along the shell of your ear.
“Hey,” you mumble, pouting as much as you can with your limited energy. “You’re handsome… I’m counting your beauty marks.”
“Ohhh.” Nodding, Rafayel pops the next button of his pajama shirt, teasingly giving you a peek at more of his chest. As if you haven’t seen way more than that, more times than you can count. “Here you go, beloved. Admire away.”
When you roll your eyes, Rafayel continues. “You know, there’s an old tale that beauty marks are the places your past lover’s kissed the most…” There’s a wistful look in his eyes. “I guess you liked a lot of places in the past, beloved.”
You smile, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and pressing a kiss to his palm. “I’ll make sure to leave lots more for the next life, then.”
A warm aura settles over you, but it’s broken when Rafayel feels your forehead.
“You’re still warm,” he whispers, sitting up in bed. “Let’s get you cleaned in a bath, and I can make something light for food.” Rafayel stretches. “Oh, and it’s half past three in the afternoon.”
His hands are gentle as they help you up, not caring about the way your baggy sleep shirt sticks to your back with sweat, or your hair falling in your eyes. When you reach the bathroom, he sets up the tub and sits you on the toilet.
“I’m gonna help you wash your hair and everything,” Rafayel says, adding a small amount of scented oil and setting up your shampoo and conditioner for easy access. “Is that okay?”
Nodding, you look up at him with a pout. “Join me?”
Those two words are Rafayel’s undoing… How can he say no to you when you’re batting your eyelashes up at him, framing your beautiful eyes, and the soft glisten of your lower lip? It’s not that he’s worried about anything extra happening, because he’s very good at reining in his desires, but he doesn’t want to overcrowd you in the hot water.
“Only because you asked nicely,” Rafayel teases, stealing a kiss on your forehead. “Water’s almost ready, come here.”
His fingers drift across your flushed skin, stripping you of the day-old clothes and setting them on the tile floor. He’s quick to take his own pajamas off, guiding you into the tub so your back fits perfectly against his chest.
The warm water washes over your muscles, but what soothes you the most is Rafayel’s hands as they start massaging your sides. He knows just how to press to have you the most pliant in his touch. Your head lolls to the side, and a soft sigh escapes your parted lips.
“Tilt your head back for me,” he says, dumping some of the water on your hair to get it ready to wash. “Just relax, beloved.” Rafayel presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
The familiar smell of your shampoo fills your nose, and you close your eyes as Rafayel begins to massage it into a lather, making sure to get every inch of your scalp clean. Silence comes, filled only by your almost inaudible sighs and hums of satisfaction at being taken care of so thoroughly.
You cough, covering your mouth and bending forward. Your chest aches with each cough, rattling your lungs as you breathe through it.
“It’s okay,” Rafayel whispers, his palm rubbing along your back. “Slow breaths between coughs.”
His touch anchors you, and when you’re finished with the coughing fit, you relax back into his hands. They resume slowly running through your hair, making sure the conditioner is evenly distributed in the strands before guiding you to tilt your head back again to rinse it out.
“Doing okay?” Rafayel asks, reaching for the body wash. When you nod, his fingers press into the tense muscles of your back. “Does your head hurt?” You shake your head. “Good.” After a moment of silence, Rafayel leans forward to kiss your shoulder again. “Almost done, and then you’ll get some yummy food from Chef Rafayel.”
You can’t help but laugh, your skin tingling as he washes your body. Despite being sick, the care that he puts into taking care of you ignites something in your chest. Sure, you’re always attracted to your boyfriend—look at him—but there’s a little extra heat in your stomach as he cleans you, washes your hair, and cooks for you that has you restless.
“Thank you,” you mumble as he stands you up and watches you dry off. The water is completely gone from the tub, and as Rafayel changes into a pair of sweatpants, he reaches out for you.
“Again, no need to thank me, beloved.” He helps you step out of the tub, bending down so you can step into a pair of shorts and a baggy shirt to cover your frame. “Comfortable?” Standing straight, his hands settle on your waist.
“Mhm,” you nod, smiling up at him. Your hair drips on your shoulders, and you watch Rafayel sit you back down onto the toilet again.
His cheeks flush. “I forgot, we should probably dry your hair before food.” He fumbles around to grab the hair dryer, finding the brush as well. “You’re already sick… We can’t have you getting worse.” His smirk sends a rush through you, and you watch his tongue dart out from between his lips as he turns on the heat setting to dry your hair.
Your stare doesn’t catch him off guard, but the heavy-lidded gaze you give him as he smooths out your hair across your temples does. He’s done this a few times before, drying your hair after a particularly rowdy night together between the sheets, but now, there’s a whole different atmosphere between you.
“You’re pretty,” you whisper, resting your hand on his bare hip with a light touch. Your long nails brush the V-line of his muscles, and he fights the shiver that threatens to rack through his body.
When the hair dryer turns off, he cups your cheeks. “Just pretty?” Your skin feels much better, and he relaxes as he sees the color returning to your complexion. “Not handsome, or sexy, or the most perfect specimen to exist?”
You roll your eyes again, allowing him to help you stand from the toilet. The warm strands of your hair brush your shoulders, and you feel considerably better now that you’re completely clean and no longer sticky with sweat.
“Specimen?” Crinkling your nose, you smile as he leads you out into the kitchen with his hands on your hips. “That sounds like you’re some experiment.”
As you sit at the kitchen island, you lean your chin into your hand. You watch him roam around your kitchen to find the necessary ingredients for the same chicken and vegetable soup he made you at four in the morning. His back muscles flex as he grabs every item he needs from the imaginary list in his head, and you can’t help but imagine your nails digging deep red trenches along his pale skin.
“You can definitely experiment on me, beloved.” Rafayel shoots you a wink, turning back around to cut a few carrots and scallions. He cuts off your thoughts with his word, and you find yourself snapping back to reality. After he pours them into the pot, he grabs a premade can of chicken soup and pours it into the simmering broth he made.
You roll your eyes again.
“See? You’ve rolled your eyes at me twice in the last five minutes, so you’re already feeling better. I’m the best medicine for you.” He teases you, alternating between stirring the soup and shooting you looks. Rafayel is just joking, because he would never push you to do something when you’re still getting better, but he can’t deny the satisfaction that he feels when your cheeks flush, and it’s not due to the sickness.
Although you don’t say anything, the smile on your lips is enough to encourage Rafayel to continue cooking. Silence lingers between you before you start coughing again, your chest tight like the taut strings of a guitar.
Rafayel listens to your coughs, plating the soup in a bowl and turning to face you. “Slow breaths. Don’t gasp for air.” His instruction is followed by your breaths, evening out until you’re able to give him a smile. “There’s that beautiful smile.” He pushes the bowl toward you. “Now eat.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” He goes to reach for the spoon to feed you again, but you shake your head. “I can feed myself, Raf. Don’t worry about it.” His worry is endearing, but you lift a weak arm to feed yourself.
It tastes just as good as the first time, and you let out another satisfied hum. “Delicious as always,” you say, sipping the broth with a sharp slurp. “It’s so warm.” Your body shivers, and you curl your legs up on the stool. “Can you make this every time I get sick?”
“Are you feeling better?” You nod to his question. “Then, yes.” He leans on his hand, watching you with a smile as you sip some of the broth. “As long as it helps you feel better, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Another smile, and you take a bite of solid food this time. Even though you’ve been in and out of sleep for the past two days, this is the best you’ve felt since waking up with the splitting headache, and it’s all thanks to Rafayel.
“Still tired, and my throat hurts.” You counter, taking another bite of food with steady hands. “But my migraine is gone, and my body doesn’t ache as much as it did before.” You can tell your voice is less nasally, with the clear tones of your words coming through as you slurp the liquid again.
“That doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook, though.” Rafayel reaches over to wipe some broth from your lower lip. “You still need to rest and take it easy for the next few days. No strenuous activity, or else your body will get right back into this sickness.”
“Alright, Doctor Qi.” With a smile, you push your almost empty bowl back at him. For some reason, your stomach isn’t agreeing with the chicken or vegetables in it, so plain broth it is. “Whatever you say, goes.”
He takes the bowl from you, dumping out the excess food, but before he turns to the sink to wash the dish, he shoots you a look. “So glad you recognize that now. I’ll hold you to that next time we’re in an argument.”
You roll your eyes at your boyfriend again, but you can’t help your stare lingering on his bare back before he leads you back to your room.
“Now,” he says, tucking you into bed. “Time for more rest, beloved.” He walks to the other side of the bed, slipping in beside you. “We’ll wake up when we wake up, and I’ll make more food for you.”
Despite your want to stay up and admire him for being such a good caretaker, you already feel the tendrils of sleep tugging at your eyelids. “Mmmm, okay… G’night, Raf.”
Right before you drift off again, you feel warm lips on your forehead.
“Good night, beloved.”
In the next two days, Rafayel gets you medicine for your sickness, making sure it targets the nasty fever still lingering like a flush on your skin. He pampers you with baths, massages to your sore muscles, and cooks you whatever you wish for—within reason, of course… Because he’s not going to cook a five-course meal for someone barely recovering from being sick.
By the time you can speak without sounding like a scratched record, you’re finding more than solace in the warmth and comfort that Rafayel gives.
It’s driving you mad how attractive he looks when he’s fussing over you.
Almost the entire three days he’s spent over at your apartment, he rarely has a shirt on, and you’ve seen him shirtless countless times before, but it’s so much different when he’s so nonchalant about it. He walks around like all he’s doing is caring for his sick girlfriend—which he is—but the sway of his hips, and the way he wears those damned grey sweatpants, drives you up the wall.
“Raf,” you whisper, poking him on the cheek. With you feeling almost back to normal, Rafayel has allowed more skinship, which also means you can curl up on his chest. Your fever has disappeared, and all that lingers is a few harsh coughing fits and the exhaustion that hasn’t subsided.
“Yes, beloved?” His heart beats slow and steady under your ear, and his attention is pulled from the movie toward where you lie. “What’s on your mind?” The tips of his fingers twirl the ends of your hair, occasionally drifting to your spine to trace along it.
A wave of embarrassment washes over you, painting your face crimson. “It’s embarrassing.” Burying your face in his neck, you wrap your arms around his torso to cling to him like a koala.
Rafayel laughs, tilting his head to the side to give you better access. “Nothing you say can be embarrassing when it comes to me.” The tips of his fingers press into your scalp, massaging with slow circles. “I really don’t think there’s anything you can say that–”
“You looked really hot taking care of me these past few days, and I really, really need you.” It all comes out in one long rush, and you have to suck in a breath because you haven’t used that much energy since before you got sick.
There’s a pause in his massage, his fingers stilling against your head, and for a moment you think you may have stunned him into utter silence.
But it doesn’t last long.
“That’s what you were embarrassed to tell me?” Rafayel laughs again, arching his neck in an attempt to meet your eyes, but you bury your face deeper into him, your nose brushing close to his Adam’s apple. “Beloved,” he whispers the pet name in his low, rumbling tone. “Look at me.”
When you finally gather the courage to look up at him, you find his cheeks a slight hint of pink, and his eyes seem to mix colors. “Sorry… You were wearing nothing but those grey sweatpants, and I could see your back muscles when you cooked me food, and god forbid a girlfriend wants a piece of her boyfriend.”
His lips find your forehead, and you stop talking.
“There we go.” Rafayel smiles like he hit the power off switch on a doll. “No apologies, okay?” He pauses for a moment, admiring you. Outside, the moonlight casts a cool white glow on his face, and, paired with the TV's illumination, he looks like an angel.
“Okay,” you mumble.
“Good,” he whispers, cupping your cheek. “While hearing you say those things makes me wanna do very dirty things to you.” The warmth of his palm is nothing compared to the heat surging through your veins. “You’re still recovering.” Your face drops, and Rafayel laughs. “Don’t go all pouty on me! You didn’t let me finish.”
In the best defeated voice you can muster through the lingering exhaustion, you pout. “Fine, go ahead and finish.”
Rafayel kisses your forehead again. “I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted. You’re still recovering, but your fever is almost gone, and I think with a little rest tonight… Maybe I can give you a reward for being so patient and waiting until you feel all better.” He teases you through small pecks to your face, checking your temperature with his lips.
“So tomorrow?” Since tomorrow is Sunday, you have one more day until you’re back at work on Monday. It can be filled with rest, food, and a little bit of your boyfriend on the side. “Promise?”
“Mhm,” Rafayel hums, nodding with one last peck to your lips. He’s made sure not to dive in with the kisses, keeping them to innocent pecks in case you’re still carrying some of the bug you got. “As long as you feel okay and you’re up for it– ah!” He cuts you off when you try to say you want it now. “I want to give it one more night to make sure.”
You nod, and right before you’re about to speak, another yawn cuts through your words.
“See?” He chuckles, slipping his hand under your shirt to press his palm against your back. Like this, he can keep you snug on his side. “You need more rest, beloved.” It’s obvious that he’s not as unaffected as he wants to seem, but then again, he knows that you can pick up on all the small things that make him tic.
The mixing of colors in his eyes, the almost invisible flush on his cheeks, and the light tickle of his middle finger along the dips of your spine. His breathing pattern is different, as well, which is something only you would be able to notice after how long you’ve been together.
But you don’t want to push him that much, and the reward tomorrow will be that much sweeter, so you lie back onto his chest, letting the sound of the TV drown out your thoughts. Thoughts that are more about what his hands will be doing to you twenty-four hours from now, and not about the subtle drooping of your eyes.
You’re too far gone into sleep that you don’t hear Rafayel chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Good night, beloved.”
The morning sun comes and goes, making way for the noon rays, which shroud those things in shadow.
Those things are both yours and Rafayel’s bodies tangled beneath your blankets, still sleeping the morning away like there’s not a care in the world.
You’re the first to wake up, blinking slowly until your brain recognizes that it’s creeping close to the afternoon. In your sleep, you’ve shifted up so your body is lying almost perfectly on top of Rafayel’s, your legs tangled together, and your head resting on his collarbone.
The moment you lift your head up to look around, you see Rafayel still sleeping. He’s majestic, with mussed hair, parted lips, and a sleepy flush on his cheeks. His eyelashes are long, fluttering with his eye movements beneath his closed eyelids. Reaching up, you trace the bridge of his nose lightly, dipping down to his Cupid’s bow, and stopping at his plump lower lip.
“Admiring the view?” Rafayel’s sleepy morning voice rumbles through his chest, and you jump at being caught like this. When he meets your wide eyes, he chuckles, settling his hands on your hips. “I quite like the view, as well.”
He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You don’t feel hot anymore, and as his fingers slip under your baggy shirt, he finds the skin of your waist no longer hot to the touch. Because he was definitely just testing out your temperature that way.
“How do you feel?” Rafayel asks, now more seriously than the teasing moments ago.
“I feel good,” you say, tracing the edge of his jawline with your index finger. You’re no longer shy in your admiration of him, not after the many times he’s caught you staring and vice versa; it just startled you that he woke up so abruptly to your touch earlier. “Much better than the last few days.”
And it’s true. It’s not a lie, so you can get that reward he promised you, but the actual truth. You’re not as tired as you were the day before, and you aren’t shivering with the fever. The itch in the back of your throat is no longer there, and when you speak again, it’s with a clear voice.
“I actually woke up before you did… I think that proves I’m feeling much better.”
Rafayel studies your face, taking in the last of pink flush, your clear eyes sparkling, and the upturn of your lips. When you reach over to check the clock on the nightstand, he takes the moment to admire your side profile.
“Well…” He trails off, one hand slipping further up your bare back while the other comes to cup your jaw. “If that’s the case,” he whispers, flipping you onto your back until he’s kneeling between your legs, “I think it’s time to give you your reward.”
He doesn’t give you time to think about it before he dives down to capture your lips in an intense kiss.
It steals your breath away, and you wrap your arms around his neck to anchor yourself to him. The moment his tongue glides along your lower lip, you happily grant him permission, parting your lips to deepen the kiss into one of heat and passion.
“Is this okay?” Rafayel gasps as soon as he pulls back, his lips slick with saliva.
Words fail you, and it takes you a second to gather your thoughts beyond the way his hands touch you like you’re fragile yet so exploratory on a body he’s so well acquainted with. His thumb traces the line of your chin, while his other hand runs along the side of your torso.
“Y–yes,” you stutter out, threading fingers through his hair to tug him back in for another kiss. He’s like a drug you can never get enough of. Like you’re forever entwined to attract him like a magnet. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Rafayel tilts your head up with a subtle push, choosing instead to trail slow kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and stopping at the hollow of your throat. He’s subtle with each press of his mouth, reminding you just how much he worships your body.
“You’re so–” his voice drops to a whisper as he places another kiss on your pulse point, “beautiful.” He finishes the statement by nibbling on your earlobe, soothing the slight sting with his tongue. “So, so beautiful.”
Your answering whimper comes after his hips grind down against the seat of your pajama shorts. “Rafayel.” The pillow beneath your head cradles you, but it doesn’t compare to the feeling of his hands teasing the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it up. “Please… Off.”
“Everything?” Rafayel asks, kissing the skin above your navel. His lips move with the rising hem, up to your sternum, and when he stops just before your breasts, he raises his head to meet your gaze. “What was that, beloved?”
You didn’t say anything, too caught up in the feeling of his lips on you, and the heat rushing to your core. Paired with the teasing look of him hovering over you—too far away to grab but close enough for him to hear your stuttered breaths—it’s enough for you to start begging.
“Please,” you whine, reaching for his bare torso. Your fingers graze the waistband of his sweatpants, now black ones since he only has so many pairs of grey ones at your apartment. “Take everything off.”
Rafayel chuckles, but obliges by helping you sit up to strip your shirt off. “You’re sounding so much better from the woman coughing up a lung two days ago…” Raising an eyebrow, his large palm cups one of your breasts, his thumb teasing the peaked nipple while his other hand teases the waistband of your shorts.
“Shut up,” you whisper, arching your hips into his touch because you’re so desperate for him. The sight of his abdomen flexing as he takes restrained breaths, so far gone but still going slow for you, shoots electricity through your veins.
“You want me silent?” He asks, kneading the flesh of your chest before bending down to take the neglected bud into his mouth. Technically, he is silent, his breathing muffled by your skin as he circles his tongue around your nipple.
You arch your back again, wanting to keep going but also enjoying the sharp flick of his tongue on your sensitive chest. Maybe it’s the illness, and maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t been intimate in over a week because you were sick, but you’re hypersensitive to every little touch.
Silent or loud, you will never get enough of Rafayel like this; hovering over you with a look in his eyes that is almost predatory. He’s staring at you like you’re his last meal, meeting his searing gaze as he leaves marks across your chest.
“Raf–”
“Hm?” You can tell he’s trying to speak, the vibrations of words rattling through you, but you can’t focus on that. “Mhm, hm?”
“More,” you whimper, scrunching your eyebrows as you try to buck up into his hand. “Need you.”
Rafayel pulls off your nipple with a pop, choosing to sit back on his knees. His hands move to your thighs, brushing his thumbs along the tense muscles.
“For someone who was so relaxed last night,” he mumbles, watching your hips twitch against thin air. “You’re very tense today, beloved.” Rafayel reaches up and tugs on the waistband of your shorts. “Lift your hips for me– good girl,” he whispers when you automatically rise to let him slide the fabric off. “Time for your reward.”
There are many times that Rafayel can be awkward and clumsy. He’s never been able to balance on one leg, and he constantly kicks tables or doors without meaning to, but he dances like a swan when it comes time to strip off his sweatpants. He kicks them to the side, scrambling back onto the bed, where his hands glue to your hips.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” His length brushes against the inside of your thigh, smearing some of his arousal on your skin. His weight rests against your bare pussy, and he watches your own slick provide lubrication for him to grind between your folds. When you nod, he shakes his head, letting out a stuttered breath. “I need words, beloved.”
“I’m okay. I promise.” You reach for him, threading one hand through his hair while the other grips his wrist. “I need you, please.”
The sound of your pleas is like music to Rafayel’s ears.
Wet sounds are covered by your moans as he drags the head of his cock through your folds, the tip catching on your fluttering entrance. It slips in not even an inch, and your hips jerk in sensitivity. Each of his teasing touches is accompanied by a whimper or whine. When he taps his cock on your throbbing clit, you whimper. When he teases your hole with the head, you whine. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough until he’s buried to the hilt.
“Okay…” Rafayel trails off, holding your hip while the other strokes his cock. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry, beloved.”
If you weren’t focused on the searing heat of his touch on your waist, you may have blushed at how easily he slipped inside you. First, he paused halfway to take a breath because, as much as you need him, he’s just as sensitive. It takes him a moment to compose himself before pressing further and further until he’s seated against your pelvis.
A satiated sigh leaves your parted lips, and as Rafayel lets you adjust, he reaches up to cup your cheek. His other hand dances up your arm, rubbing his thumb along your pulse point before threading his fingers through yours and pressing your joined hands into the mattress.
“Move?” Rafayel asks against your lips, kissing you with languid strokes of his tongue against yours.
You nod, but remember his earlier words. “Yes. Move.”
He smiles, pulling all the way out until only the tip of his cock is nestled inside your heat. “Good girl. Using your words.” In one smooth thrust, he drags his cock along your walls, making stars flash across your vision despite it being in the afternoon.
Each rock of his hips is followed by both of you moaning into each other’s mouths. You swallow his grunts, and he swallows your whimpers. On a normal day, both of you would be more vocal than you are right now, but with the desire coursing through you, all you can think about is how good he feels throbbing inside you, and how he was made for you.
“So warm,” Rafayel mumbles, burying his face into your neck with a groan. “So fucking warm.”
It isn’t until you wrap your legs around his hips, arching into him, and clenching so tightly like you’re trying to milk him for everything he’s got, that he lets out a grunt that vibrates in his chest. “God, love… My beloved…” Incoherent babble—which may not even be incoherent, but you can’t register the words over your own heartbeat in your ears—is pressed into your skin, and you tighten your grip on his hand as he keeps your joined fingers pressed into the mattress.
Both of your bodies are so tightly wound that you can’t help the overwhelming wave that washes over you, whiting out your vision until all you can feel is his hand in yours, his cock pumping you full, and his thumb tracing your cheekbone.
You’re so caught up in your own orgasm that you don’t notice Rafayel’s hips have stilled, his body molding to yours as he pumps you full once, then twice, then a third time. When your eyes open again—when did you even close them—you meet Rafayel's lidded eyes.
“Hi,” he whispers, kissing you slowly, savoring your gasps. “How do you feel?”
You kiss him back, humming in satisfaction. “Great… Really great.”
Rafayel rolls his eyes, watching you yawn. “Still tired?” You shake your head. “I don’t think you’re telling the truth, beloved…” With a few grunts and whines, he shifts both of you to lie on your sides. Your back is pressed flush against his chest, and his cock still twitches inside you. He’s already hard again—whether he softened and got hard from the movement, or he never softened, you don’t know—but he doesn’t make any attempt to fuck into you again.
“Raf…” You whisper, craning your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, and a light sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead. “Again?”
He laughs, slinging his arm around your waist so his palm can press flat against your lower abdomen. “So needy, aren’t you?” The low drawl in his voice makes you pulse around him, and he sucks a breath through clenched teeth. “Fu–ck, love. Don’t do that if you don’t wanna be full of me again.”
“But I do.” You wiggle your hips, whining when he pushes until you can feel every delicious inch of his cock. “Rafayel.”
“Feel me?” You nod. “This is right where I belong, so deep inside you, trapping all of my cum right where it needs to be.” When you whine in desperation, he chuckles, a low and almost demeaning noise that sends heat right to your core. “I’ll fill you again, beloved. Don’t worry.”
A satisfied moan that sounds close to his name slips from your lips, and it only intensifies when he holds your hip, keeping you still as he grinds his hips. Like this, it’s less thrusting and more the deep carving of his cock against your walls, making sure your body remembers how perfect he is for you and vice versa.
“I’ll never let my girl go unsatisfied,” Rafayel grunts, his balls slapping softly against your clit with each rough pump. “Especially not when she’s such a good girl for being patient.” He’s babbling praise, but this is one of your favorite things about him, the string of consciousness that he lets roll when he’s too lost in your body to care about anything else.
“Raf,” you gasp when his cock curves right against that extra-sensitive spot inside you, teasing the edges of overstimulation. “I love you.”
“Fu– I love you, too.” He doesn’t pause his movements, choosing instead to lean forward until his nose brushes the strands of purple hair dusting your shoulders. One kiss rests on your shoulder blade. “So much, beloved. God, so fucking much.”
The sunlight casts a warm hue on the room, now streaking closer and closer to evening as you enjoy each other’s presence far beyond domestic comfort. Now, it’s raw need wrapped in faded restraint from the lingering glances you shot at him while he didn’t realize.
Your bodies fit perfectly together, your curves against his muscles, pliable under his touch and able to be moved however either of you wishes. In truth, the grip he has on your hip to keep you still only adds to the tingling of your nerves because he’s so strong, and he can handle you like this so he can maximize your pleasure.
That’s how it’s always been for him. Your pleasure over his. Always.
“Already– fuck… Close?” He pants against your skin, his balls tightening with another release. Overstimulation isn’t lost on him, either. The tips of his toes hum with numbness, and the arch of your back gives him easier access to your dripping pussy, giving him the most sinful view when he looks down.
“Mhm,” you moan, your hand reaching back to dig your nails into his bicep. “So close.”
Rafayel rests his forehead on your shoulder, his eyes locked onto the tight grip of your pussy on his cock. The dull thumping of his hips against yours is like music to his ears. Paired with the alternating whimpers and moans you make? He’s sure he’s not lasting much longer.
“Come on, beloved.” The hand on your hip slips between your legs, and the moment his middle finger rubs tight circles on your clit, your whole world explodes.
This orgasm is much more intense than the first.
It’s an inferno that’s swallowed everything in flames before spitting out complete darkness. And in that darkness, sparks of light erupt from the ashes, like a phoenix rising to be born anew. You barely register your name being pressed into your skin from Rafayel’s lips, overstimulation causing both of your bodies to tremble in the aftermath.
When you finally catch your breath, you can feel Rafayel’s cum leaking onto the sheets, and the distinct warmth from the friction of your bodies. It’s not uncomfortable, but it does make you whine and try to wiggle away from him.
“Hold on a second, beloved.” Rafayel laughs, easing himself out of you and watching gush after gush escape. He wants to reach down and finger some of it back into you, but after two orgasms, you’re already twitching at the light brush of his hand along your backside. “Lie there for a minute, I’ll go run the bath.”
You roll onto your stomach, your arms limp under you, but you turn your head to watch Rafayel’s still naked body walk into the bathroom. The sound of the water turning on hits your ears, and you relax. No matter what, he will always be there to take care of you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble when he scoops you up in his arms and places you into the now full tub of warm water. This time, he doesn’t join you, choosing instead to kneel beside the bathtub and smooth your hair out of your eyes. “For being so needy.”
Rafayel doesn’t let you say any more, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that steals your breath away. “I’m gonna go change the sheets, then I’ll help you wash up, and order some takeout because I definitely don’t have the energy to cook right now.” He laughs, but gives you one more kiss to the forehead before standing.
“Oh, and beloved?” He looks back at you, his eyes reflecting pink and blue. “Remember what I said…” Rafayel winks.
It's just a coincidence, right? This nagging crush, something that already seems far deeper than a cute crush, lurks beneath the surface of your thoughts. The moment you see a familiar head of silver hair after your eyes are closed? It becomes far more complicated.
·······•✦ pairing: xavier x afab!reader
·······•✦ word count: nearly 11k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff, slight angst
·······•✦ general tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Dreams, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, Awkward Tension, Sexual Tension, Soulmates Meet in Dreams, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Mentions of past myths/anecdotes, Jealousy, Wet Dream, Lucid Dreaming, Making Out, Teasing, Neck Kissing, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Sexual Overstimulation, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Creampie, pet names - princess, No use of y/n, POV Second Person, Dirty Talk
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
The shadows of darkness wrap around you, but loneliness isn’t an option with him by your side.
Exhaustion drags footsteps on the pavement, a comfortable silence still weighing heavily on your shoulders as the shared apartment building comes into view. Like a taunt of finally getting the sleep you need, it’s almost enough to stop you right in your tracks.
But an arm shoots out to bump yours.
“And I thought I was the one to fall asleep anywhere.” The soft voice, laden with care, is said a little louder because who could even hear you at this late hour? The streets are empty, with remnants of parties and crowds visible in confetti, and bars are cleaning up their outside seating. But now, it’s just you and Xavier.
Swiveling your head to stare up at the Hunter, a puff of air, indignant and pouty, explodes as you cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t know how you’re so unaffected by the day we had.” A tired smile, one that has Xavier blinking slowly and roaming his eyes across your features, curls at the corner of your lip. “You should be more tired than I am, with the extra operations you were sent on.”
Being Xavier’s partner was both a blessing and a curse.
On one hand, the missions that you went on were always full of playful banter and shared laughs while protecting each other from the horrors of Wanderers. You slipped through cracks and slowly became the talk of the office with how well you worked together and how powerful you both were.
On the other hand, there’s a pulsing in your chest every time he stares a little too long at you. Like you want him to keep looking. It’s fleeting and disappears as soon as he turns to slash at a monster who had gotten dangerously close. But it’s there. Daydreams of closing that gap between friends, coworkers, and something more happen more often, so often that your other colleagues have started to notice you zoning off.
So, when he gets called to do solo missions, you miss him, but you're also glad you have some time to breathe.
Suffocating like a weight on your chest, these feelings are stones pushing incessantly on already cracked ribs, ready to cave in with each small pebble being added. First, it’s the way he smiles; subtle and sweet. Then, it’s the way he acts; gentle yet constant. Then came his soft voice, his endearing awkwardness, and his attentiveness to you.
It all culminated in a budding affection for him.
A crush, heightened by the proximity to him nearly every day, blossoms into the wildest flower. A flower fed by his smile, his laugh, his voice, and his warmth. It’s uncontrollable, turning into something that causes your heart to race uncontrollably when he’s around.
“I’m not that tired.” Shrugging away the fatigue, he holds open the door for you to step into the elevator, ready to crawl right into bed and sleep until the alarm blares for the start of the next day. “The missions today weren’t that complicated.”
He’s right. Just a few sightings in No Hunt Zones that were dealt with fairly quickly, but going back to the office to write reports between each painstaking journey back and forth. It wasn’t too complicated, but each report seemed to draw longer and longer until it was sunset and you were ready to just sleep at your desk.
“Still, the computer screen was abnormally bright today… Just like these lights.” A chuckle comes from both of you as you look up to the fluorescent bulbs of the elevator.
Xavier smiles. “If only I could take away the light instead of creating it.” Another joke, lighthearted and so Xavier that, through tired muscles, you mimic his own smile. Then, as the elevator dings for your floor, he gestures for you to go first. “I guess the elevator heard us.”
That charm bleeding through his words never fails to affect you.
“So you’re the elevator whisperer now?” Despite the banter, your voice is slow with fatigue. Finally getting to your front door, you turn to face him. “You’re a man of many talents, huh?”
“I guess so.” He hums, nodding as he stands far enough away that you can barely catch the subtle scent of his cologne, too far away, if you had anything to say about it.
There’s a beat of silence when you’re both staring at each other with shy smiles and heavy-lidded eyes. You can’t guess what he’s thinking, since he’s such an enigma with stoic features that only ever soften slightly when he sees you.
But you never catch that.
“I’ll…” The beat of your heart thunders in your ears, despite the sleep tugging at your eyes; every nerve in your body lights up when he steps just an inch closer. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Technically, it’s midnight, but neither of you makes the correction.
“Yeah,” Xavier exhales—soft and subtle—like he wants to say more but doesn’t. “Good night.”
With that, he turns on his heels and strolls down the hallway, climbing the short staircase up one floor until he reaches his apartment—the one right above yours. His pace doesn’t lessen. If anything, it quickens as he locks his front door and runs a hand through his hair.
Fuck… What are you doing to him?
Watching him leave, you do the same: locking your front door and running a hand over your face. It’s hard to concentrate when every time you blink, his bright blue eyes shine back at you, like a memory you can’t forget.
What’s even worse is the sleep that turns into frustrated tossing and turning when you finally change into comfortable pajamas and curl up in bed. It’s impossible—even when earlier in the night, you were so hellbent on collapsing into cotton sheets as soon as you set foot into your apartment.
The clock hits just past two in the morning, and impatient footsteps pad out into the kitchen, where a kettle is waiting to be used. Your favorite tea—warm and soothing—fills you with a comfort that you can only compare to what you think Xavier’s hugs are.
Snuggled up in bed, your eyes drift closed with each slow blink—hair falling into your face. The tea works so quickly that you finish half of it before your head lolls to the side in drowsiness. It’s only when you’re tucked into blankets and curled on your side that you can’t think a single thought before you’re fully asleep.
In your dream, you’re sitting in a classroom.
Odd… It’s been a while since you’ve dreamed something like this.
Looking around, nothing specific sticks out along the walls. A plain chalkboard. Standard desks. Everything is normal, like the epitome of sitting in a classroom before it fills with students.
Except that the paper under your hand has your name on it.
Huh… “What?” The thought is verbalized before you realize it, head tilting to the side as you glare down at the ink as if just staring will change it. A plain metal nametag—once again, with your name—is pinned to a cardigan, which is the same color as the walls around you.
The worksheet, which you’ve just now noticed, is full of math equations, reminds you of the homework you would take home at the end of the day. It’s all textbook classroom, and judging by the fact that it isn’t a dream meant to embarrass you or manifest a Wanderer to chase you down the halls—yet—it’s definitely not a typical school dream.
“What the—”
“So you’re here, too.” A voice—always gentle even in your dreams—comes from the doorway, and you whip your head around to find Xavier leaning against the door frame. “This whole school is empty.”
The shock on your face registers with Xavier, something flickering across his face that you couldn’t place even if you tried. But he covers it up just as quickly as it manifested, like it was hidden under the surface.
His outfit—the same cardigan and khaki pant combination—matches yours, even the square on his chest with his name printed in a very professional font. It’s all the same… Which means you’re classmates?
“It’s just us?” A million questions float around in your head, and yet the most superficial one comes from parted lips. “Where’s everyone else?”
Xavier shrugs, one hand clutching the strap of a backpack while sitting down at the desk in front of you. His eyes never leave yours, testing something behind confused eyes and soft lips.
“I don’t know…” It’s honest, an unsure answer born from a curved smile, and you’ve never seen him so playful like this. Maybe this is how he was during school? “Maybe there’s an apocalypse, and we’re the only two people left.” Then, his finger taps the paper in front of you. “And yet, you still have homework.”
Rolling your eyes, you twirl the pen around your fingers. “Of course, the perfect trope for a dream.” A laugh slips, your eyes catching Xavier’s as he rests his elbow on your desk. “I mean, homework doesn’t matter when none of this is real, right?”
You’ve never been able to distinguish between dream and reality, but right now this feels like a realm between. Not quite asleep and not quite awake.
Like purgatory.
The expression that passes over Xavier’s face is stern yet still unreadable. “You think this is a dream?” Like you’ve said something wrong, shattering this dreamland where anything is possible into something absurd and ridiculous.
“I know it’s a dream…” Trailing off, your voice drops into almost a whisper. “You’re only here because of this silly crush.” The confession, unintentional but loud in Xavier’s ears, is only said because, of course, the real Xavier wouldn't know this secret.
This isn’t the real Xavier…
“A crush?”
“Yeah.”
“On who?” The words are clipped, not wanting to hear the answer, and yet still leaning closer in curiosity.
“On you.”
A healthy pause bites into the air, almost suffocating if it weren’t for slow breaths and the soft tapping of his fingers on the desk. Like, he can’t sit still when he’s just learned of this crush you harbor for him.
“It’s probably more than a crush…” It all comes out in a vomit of words, because you’re just talking to this… dream Xavier… He won’t know a single thing you say to him in the morning. “But every time I see you, it gets stronger and stronger. So yeah… definitely more than a crush.”
A hum, low and incessant. Then, his hand presses against your forehead. “Yep, I think you’re running a fever.” Hidden behind a slight rasp that depicts more than his normal smooth tone, there’s a hint of endearing softness and silky monotone.
“Careful,” the tease doesn’t leave your tone. “If you keep showing up in my dreams, I may fall for you even more…”
Xavier clears his throat, the tips of his ears burning. “I was kidding about the school being empty.”
Almost on cue, the bell rings from above you, and faceless people filter through the classroom door. The image of Xavier leaning on your desk becomes just a mirage in the smoke, and the last thing you see before you wake up is a tight smile on his usually relaxed expression.
The alarm blares in your ears, mimicking the classroom bell almost perfectly.
On your walk to work, the dream keeps replaying in your mind. The subtle smile curls when you think about how handsome Xavier looked — still like his current age despite being in a school uniform — and how warm his palm was on your forehead.
But even so, there's a nagging feeling that maybe this dream meant something. You hadn't dreamt of your colleague, neighbor, and friend at all, and the sudden appearance threw you for a loop when you first emerged from sleep.
Then the reminder that soulmates find each other in dreams—that they share dreams—crashes into you.
Surely not… The Xavier you met last night didn't seem like he knew anything of your current world, nor did he acknowledge you in any different way, as if he knew it was a dream as well.
Right?
An odd tenseness in the air lingers around you when you finally get up to your floor. Coworkers smile and attempt to make small talk, but this incessant throb in the back of your head tampers your mood down into silent nods and absentminded hums. You’re not really listening, but luckily, everyone is too preoccupied with running their mouths to realize.
When Xavier walks in just ten minutes after you, your eyes automatically follow him.
His hair is a bit more mussed—most likely from sleep—and each step he takes seems like his last, feet dragging until he plops down into his chair. Usually, he would smile at you or come over to talk about the few hours between getting off work and being right back here.
But he didn’t spare you a glance.
A tight jaw and furrowed brows continue to work through reports, his hands typing so fast on the keyboard that you almost don’t even see them moving. Moving lightning fast, there’s an urgency there that isn’t normal for the lackadaisical man who leisures his way through reports and slashes through Wanderers on the field.
And as much as you want to go up to him and make small talk, you know when to give him some space. It’s not often he gets into moods like that, where nothing registers in his brain except the task in front of him. It's almost as if he wants to forget something.
No… Of course not.
It’s not like he remembers the dream. It’s not like he was there?
So why does it feel so empty when he gets up and rushes off with a beeping watch for a solo mission? One that doesn’t involve you.
“You look like a lost puppy.”
Simone, one of your colleagues, taps her finger on her coffee cup, the noise like a sharp blade through the low hum of chatter throughout the room. It’s a welcome distraction from the empty seat across the room.
Tearing your gaze away from his desk, you look up at her. “Uhm, no…” It’s a lie. You know it, and she gives you a look that tells you all you need to know. “I’m fine. Just tired, is all.” Your shoulder jerks up, attempting a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.
Her eyes bore into yours over the edge of her coffee cup. She hums, “Oh, really? I didn’t know staring at Xavier’s desk and pouting like that was you being tired.” A perfectly arched eyebrow lifts, knowing she’s got you right where she wants you.
“I… Uhm…” You’re caught, but you brush it off with another shrug, not wanting to say anything of your little crush—if it still could be called just a crush. It wasn’t, because the feelings that quickly surface when you think about his smile don’t do much to help your situation. “I didn’t realize I was looking over there.”
It’s the best excuse you can come up with, because it’s far less vulnerable than the truth.
“Have you had any dreams yet?”
Her question is obvious—have you met him in your dreams? Is he your soulmate?—but it’s a slippery slope of emotions when last night comes into your mind. Torn between truth and a small white lie, it’s unclear which one will hurt the least.
“No.” While a lie, it’s still technically accurate. He wasn’t coherent in the dream. It was just a mirage of what you wanted and not what you had.
Wanting to end the conversation, you turn back to your work, the blinking cursor some solace from Simone’s sympathetic smile. Her hand touches your shoulder, brushing close to your hair for a split second before pulling back.
“Some people don’t see their soulmate for a while.” A statement meant to reassure you only stabs at your heart. “You never know what’ll happen.” She drags out the last syllable in a singsong voice that does bring a smile to your face—albeit fleeting and already gone when she looks at you.
Sensing the end of the conversation, she steps away with a raised glass and a soft smile. “I’ve got some reports to write, but I’ll catch you later!”
“Catch you later, Simone.” In the nicest voice you can muster, you call out after her as she walks away. The dream of Xavier in that uniform, holding a hand to your forehead, how real he seemed when he wasn’t… It’s going to haunt you, and a tiny part of you wishes that it wouldn’t happen again.
It would be easier to crush your hopes now.
“You had an eventful day, huh?” The night air is crisp when you walk down the sidewalk—the same familiar path to your apartment building with the same familiar face strolling beside you.
But something is different.
His steps aren’t the same measured taps against the pavement as usual. Heavy then light. Quick, then slow. Trying to match your pace, but it’s obvious something else is on his mind.
“Yeah…” The leather gloves that cover his hands flex. “They sent me on a lot of missions today.”
Once again, silence.
It’s suffocating; it’s even worse when you notice his eyes locked onto his feet. He makes no effort to maintain eye contact, unlike his usual behavior. No effort to bump into you playfully or joke about Captain Jenna fussing about Xavier’s late report.
Just radio silence.
Xavier has always given you the space when you need it—backing off and raising his hands in retreat when the clouds in your brain shroud the sun. That is one of the things that burrowed deep in your heart and forced that small seed of a crush to grow into an uncontrollable garden.
So, like him, you back off.
Not blatantly, because you don’t want him thinking that you don’t care at all—because the reality is that you care a lot—but intruding on his space when he is overthinking will only make it worse. It’s a slippery slope, but knowing each other since you started at the Association, it’s a slope you’ve slid down many times before. Familiar and easy, just like anything is with Xavier.
Silence borders each step, the music of the elevator filling the space briefly before you’re standing in front of your apartment door.
It’s a constant, Xavier walking you to your door, no matter the circumstances; he wasn’t going to skip out just because of this storm cloud hanging over his head.
“You worked hard, Xav.” The nickname twitches his brow, almost imperceptible if you didn’t pay attention to every little detail. “Get some rest tonight.”
His face falls, something that could be perceived as exhaustion flickering across his face, before he nods. “Yeah, you too. Sleep well.”
With that, he turns on his heels and walks quicker than ever before until he reaches the elevator.
You don’t dream about Xavier that night.
You don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
The following dream didn’t come for a week.
In the days between, Xavier is back to his usual self. The banter, the jokes, each time you have a minute between missions, stretching like hours when you’re with him. It only makes the ache grow stronger when you fall asleep that night—a Wednesday night that is like any other—and it happens again.
This time, it’s an odd place—one you can’t place until you walk out of the ornate room you woke up in and see the grand staircase.
It’s some sort of castle.
What kind of castle? You don’t know, but the intricate filigree on the handrail and the soft blue light streaming in from every large window create an eerie feeling that is only heightened when your footsteps echo like sharp blades in the silence.
Your feet are on autopilot, knowing where to go without knowing exactly where you’re going. A hint of deja vu flickers, but it’s quickly wiped away when you catch a glimpse at the large expanse of land peeking through the window behind a large throne.
But you don’t head toward the beautiful throne. Instead, you take a few turns until you’re in a kitchen.
Then, your stomach rumbles, and you realize just why your feet brought you here.
The only sound is you rummaging through cabinets, trying to find something to eat. You don’t know why you're here, the dream making no sense while you search and search and search. It doesn’t seem like there is anyone else here, so you rummage and look through drawers, but you only find one thing.
Mushrooms.
An indignant sigh slips from your lips, and you inspect the mushrooms of seemingly all the same species. Your knowledge of plants doesn’t reach that far—especially in a land like this—so you put them back into the cupboard, running a hand through your hair.
“Not finding anything to your liking?”
A voice startles you, causing a surprised yelp as you whip around to find the source of the deep rumble.
It’s… Xavier?
No.
He’s different.
It’s definitely him, with his striking blue eyes, the set line of his lips, the soft slope of his nose, but his hair is longer—much longer—and his clothes are those of a fantasy royal. In the back of your mind, you think about searching for a mirror to see if you still look the same..
And his voice.
It’s deeper, more stern and stoic, which you didn’t think was possible. Almost like the Xavier you first met. It took him time to warm up, and even now, he still has a gentle monotone voice at times, but that’s your Xavier.
This doesn’t seem like your Xavier.
“It’s… all mushrooms.” Stating an obvious fact, the Xavier in front of you laughs, a rough chuckle that would seem mocking if he didn’t have the hint of a smile.
Nodding, he takes a step closer. “Correct. There are no other forms of sustenance here.”
Then you see it.
A slight sparkle in his eye, glimmering with recognition that is gone in a blink. Once again, akin to the first dream you had with him in the school, your eyes widen, and your breathing hitches.
Instead of breaching the topic, because you would look like a fool if this Xavier wasn’t yours, you cross your arms, soft silk brushing your skin. “I’m hungry.”
When he laughs, it’s like your Xavier is back. “If you don’t like mushrooms, then I don’t know what to tell you.”
There’s a tense silence that follows, daring the other to break it with words that hold little meaning when the only thing you want to ask is: “is that you?” This line between reality and dream is thin, especially with the idea that Xavier might be the one. But the fear that he isn’t, that someone else is your soulmate when your feelings for Xavier only grow, is what keeps you from speaking.
“How about you go to bed?” He whispers, a subtle worry in his voice as he takes a step. A sudden spark shoots through your veins when he lays a hand on your arm, goosebumps sharp as they rise along with the hair there. “I promise I’ll try to find something in the morning for food besides these mushrooms.”
Despite the rumble in your stomach, you nod. “Okay…”
With a gentleness lingering into affection, he cradles your elbow and takes measured steps up the staircase. He knows exactly where your room is and the layout of the entire castle, navigating it with ease.
“There we go.” Before you know it, a plush mattress meets your back, lowered with the utmost care. He lingers, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment, and in the moonlight, he looks sad.
Like a lovesick man, trapped in his thoughts, although you don’t know this version of Xavier, your heart breaks at the dimness in his eyes.
Reaching your arm out from under the blanket, you rest your hand on his bicep. “Stay with me.” You plead, uncertainty laced in your voice as you look up at him. “Until I fall asleep?”
There it is—the crack in his armor.
Silence, and then: “Okay,” said in your Xavier’s voice. Not the deep and demanding tone from the man in the kitchen, but a gentle melody that wraps around you like a blanket. “Sleep…” After you remove your arm, he tucks you in, making sure you’re secure before sitting back.
His stare should be intimidating, but it’s not.
It’s comforting, and within minutes, you’re falling asleep.
In the morning, Xavier doesn’t say a word when he walks into the office. It’s just like the week before, when you had the first dream he appeared in. Every time you dream about him, he shows up like this. Every. Single. Time. Like a pattern you can’t figure out, because there’s no logical reason it would line up perfectly.
Once is a coincidence.
Twice is a pattern.
Like clockwork, you go about your day, going on missions solo, and when the time comes when you have to accompany him, it’s filled with hollow words and jokes that don’t land. His expression is taut, and every Wanderer he kills is another reminder of his strength.
Your Xavier is strong, but he’s so much more than that.
He’s handsome. He’s gentle. He’s stern. He’s playful. He’s attentive, and he knows you more than he says. Each little action shows how well he knows you.
When it’s time to walk home, it’s filled with an awkward silence like the one before. Tense and filled with unspoken words that nearly drive you crazy with each slow step on the pavement.
Instead of breaking the precious silence with words that would fall flat, you stay quiet, letting the pure sense of your presence do the talking. I’m here if you need to talk, you think, your eyes stealing a glance over to find his brows furrowed and lips pursed into a thin line.
His features burrow between each beat of your heart, stabbing you over and over and shrinking you until you’re a grain of sand on an endless beach. It’s not like he means to make you feel that way; it’s all your own mind and worries that look too much into each movement. It probably doesn’t have anything to do with your dreams—it’s not like he remembers—but it still stings when he walks carefully to your front door.
“I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow?” You stutter, ready to input the code to your apartment and bury yourself under the covers.
Xavier meets your eye for the first time that night. “Yeah, tomorrow.” Then, with a small smile, full of wry fakeness, he nods. “Good night.”
When you finally start to drift off, you try to will your brain not to dream of Xavier.
But it’s never that easy.
“Xavier, you’re so funny!” A loud voice rings out through the Association. Well, it’s not like it’s much louder than the usual idle chatter in the room, but to you—and to your dreaming brain—it’s a booming voice in your ear.
By the time you realize it’s a dream, you’re staring at Xavier, in his regular Hunter’s outfit, looking as handsome as ever, and staring up at a woman who’s standing right in front of his desk.
She’s beautiful. Really beautiful.
“How many awards have you won with UNICORN again?” Once again, her voice pierces your eardrums, and a sinking feeling opens up in the bottom of your stomach. She’s obviously flirting with him.
“I didn’t keep track.” His monotone answer is different with her than with you. When he speaks to you, his tone changes very slightly, enough for only you to pick up on. With her, he’s saying something just to appease her.
Why would your brain show you something like this?
Clenching your jaw, you watch as she touches his arm, leaning even further until she’s very much in his space. “Can you show me sometime?”
“No.” Xavier shakes his head, staring down at his report as he outlines the most important things to include. He’s very methodical in his research, never letting it get too lazy. It’s also why he’s sometimes a day or two late in turning in said reports. “I’m busy.”
She huffs, her Hunter’s uniform looking off as she crosses her arms and stands up. “What could be more important than spending time with me?”
His head raises, eyes scanning the room, and the breath leaves your lungs.
He’s looking right at you.
No feigned incoherence. No mirage of dream Xavier, who doesn’t realize he’s a main character in your nighttime adventures. There’s that sparkle again, and you don’t mistake it this time when he smiles at you. It’s tinged in sadness, like he knows what this means, and knows you’ll figure it out.
“Spending time with her.” He says, your body freezing when she locks eyes with you. Something in her face twists, and she becomes unrecognizable, like a blank slate of a person waiting to be filled with unique characteristics.
Before you can say anything back, confirming your own cognizance or even reaching out a hand for him to take, you’re ripped from the dream with a gasp. Your alarm blares in your ears, and a drop of sweat travels along your hairline to soak into your bangs.
He knows. That’s Xavier in your dreams. Your Xavier.
Your soulmate.
The realization hits you hard, causing you to fall back onto your bed with a thud while also worrying about everything else under the sun. He had known for the past two dreams: at the school and in the palace. That was Xavier, and he was coherent. Every word he spoke was from his lips, from his brain, from his heart.
But it still doesn’t confirm he wants this. That he likes the idea of you being his soulmate, because the thought of him being yours… It sends your heart into overdrive, your body heating up at the prospect of a forever with Xavier.
The walk into work is long because you’re replaying every little instance in those previous dreams. Each gentle touch, each soft word, and affectionate stare. Like he’s always meant to be by your side, no matter where you are.
Why didn’t he just say so in the first place?
The thought eats at you when you sit down at your desk, the voices around you melting into nothingness. The reports pile up, reminding you of missions to complete and previous ones to write. It’s a cruel reminder that you’ll always be stuck with Xavier, even if he regrets being your soulmate.
Being without him is more complicated than being with him at a distance, so you try to suck up the sorrow and put on a smile.
The moment Xavier walks up, he notices something's wrong. The smile is fake, and the lights don’t sparkle in your purple irises. Furrowing his brows, he clears his throat and gestures to the pile of reports.
“Ready to get rid of some Wanderers, partner?”
Partner.
It stings, even in a different context.
After a breath, you try to steel your emotions and smile, “Yeah.”
Xavier knows better. He knows that you’re not in a good mood right now, and while he wants to ask if it’s because of the dream, if you regret him being your soulmate…
But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even ask if you’re okay, because you hate it when people ask that, so he nods, but not before rummaging through his bag to find what he’s looking for. “Here,” he says softly and slowly, setting down the bag from your favorite cafe. “They had your favorite pastry, so I stopped by before coming in.”
The corner of your lip curls slightly. “Thanks,” it’s harsher than you wanted, and even you flinch when you look up to meet his eye. It’s the same stare he gave you last night, and you can’t make yourself look at him for too long. The dual guns strapped to each thigh and the claymore are all ready for action, and you fight to smile one more time as you take the pastry out of the bag.
“I’ll finish this, and we can start the missions.” Xavier nods again, backing off and giving you the space to let the emotions play out. It’s one of the things you like the most about him, that he is always willing to give you the time to yourself, the time you need.
The missions, albeit awkward, are a chance for you to help the public, do your job, and forget about the nagging feeling whenever you are back-to-back with Xavier. His weak spot, exposed only to you. The trust he thrusts into your hands has your palms sweating and heart thumping in your chest.
Then came the walk home. This time, the sun wasn’t gone, no. It peaks through the clouds, drifting ever closer to the horizon. Dipping lower and lower, your feet drag on the pavement.
Xavier doesn’t walk right next to you. There’s a small space between you, one that feels so much like an ocean when in reality it’s just a puddle. While you know it’s just out of respect and worry, it still digs into your heart.
Now, the roles are reversed.
Instead of your eyes focusing on his expression, his eyes are locked onto yours. A hint of worry and concern edging into sapphire blue while he tries not to run into any light poles. He’s too distracted by you, and his growing anxiety about this whole… soulmate situation.
Before he knows it, you’re standing in front of your apartment. With your head dipped low, it’ll only be a bit until you’re better; until you can come to terms that your soulmate doesn’t want you, but for now?
It hurts.
“Good work today,” you manage, clearing your throat and putting on a smile. Your fingers fiddle with the edge of your uniform, ready to take it off and change into comfortable pajamas.
Xavier’s eyes roam over you, taking in every single detail that he wishes he could implant in his memory—the furrow of your brow, the downturn of your lips.
“Thanks,” Xavier can’t do anything except say that, the words caught in his throat before he clears it and nods. “You too…” Then, in an act of confidence and desperation, he reaches out to straighten the collar of your shirt. “You’re stronger than you think.”
The compliment disguised as a comfort to your solemn expression burrows into your skin, like a balm that soothes the ache in your chest. But it doesn’t help much. You’re still thinking about the dreams, about him being your soulmate. About him, still not saying anything.
“Thanks…” A beat… And then, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He wants to say more, but he holds his tongue. It’s all lost on him when you’re the one to turn into your now open front door. One last smile finds him before you close it, and Xavier sighs.
That night, when he goes to sleep, he wishes on every star that you’ll be in his dream again and that he can finally tell you everything on his mind.
But you’re not.
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
It’s naive to think that life can just go back to normal when you’ve learned that your colleague, friend, and neighbor is your soulmate, but it’s an illusion you’ve pulled over your eyes to buy yourself a few more days.
Life will never go back to normal, because there will always be something hanging over your head when you see Xavier. Whether it be in dreams, which haven’t happened since the last dream in the office, or in the field when you’re backing him up on a Wanderer attack.
You tell yourself it’ll get better, but just when you’ve tricked yourself into a healthy sleep schedule, it comes back.
You’re sitting on a kitchen counter. One that’s distinctly not yours because of the lack of decor. There’s a rack of spices, a toaster, and a few dishes in the sink.
It’s obvious whose kitchen you’re sitting in, even before you see him.
Pale skin stretches over tense muscles, coiling tight while he stalks you like prey. The grey sweatpants on his hips hang dangerously low—taunting you with a subtle V-line and flexing biceps. Each step he takes brings him closer, and you’re stuck rigid on the cool granite that bites into your bare thighs.
He’s calculated, getting all the way up to where you sit before he speaks.
“I need you.”
And you wonder if this is your Xavier or a sick, twisted dream your brain conjured up. It was still a mystery how this soulmate dream thing worked, and you didn’t know if he was always lucid in the dreams you’ve shared.
In the back of your mind, though… You don’t care.
“I need you, too.”
There it is, the dam breaking under unbearable pressure. The weeks of pent-up frustration and disappointment when he didn’t seem to acknowledge the weight between you. The room in your heart that he’s rented out, knowing it may not be a permanent house for him…
It all culminates in this one moment.
He doesn’t speak. Instead, he walks over until he’s slotted himself between your thighs. Warmth radiates from bare hips, your knees hooking around until you’re crossing your ankles behind him and holding him closer in a feeble attempt to appease your feelings.
The kiss starts slow.
It’s a languid dance of your lips together, savoring every slow breath or aroused gasp as you explore each other for the first time. A tense awkwardness settles when he pulls away just enough to zero in on the blush filling your cheeks and the wide eyes that shine back at him.
He dives in for another.
This one is rougher, more tongue and teeth scraping against bottom lips as his hands skim along your bare upper thighs, slipping under the hem of your baggy shirt and settling on the skin of your hips. Meanwhile, your own hands wrap around his neck, pulling until you’re completely flush against him and panting with each centimeter of space you’re given.
“Xavier,” it comes out in a breath of fresh air, like you won’t just wake up and go back to the monotony of work tomorrow with the expectation that you have to temper your feelings and hope he doesn’t say anything.
“Shhhh,” his lips move to your jaw, nudging your head up with the tip of his nose while he grinds his hips against your panty-clad core with agonizing speed. Each kiss is another inferno ignited inside you, and you can’t think of anything else when he presses an intimate kiss to your pulse point, listening with unrestrained glee at the hitch in your breath. “I’ve got you.”
And he does.
Stepping back from the counter, one of his hands cups the flesh of your ass while the other moves further up your shirt to trace the ridges of your spine. His footsteps are clunky and awkward, which makes it all the more endearing when he sets you down on his bed and pulls back with a wince.
“I kicked the doorframe.”
His complaint is met with a breathy chuckle, but you don’t have the time to say anything back when he’s climbing onto the bed and hovering his entire body over yours. In just sweatpants, he is reminiscent of a god, the light emanating from him giving him a subtle glow in the rapidly darkening sky.
Reverent hands trace every ridge of your body, pushing your shirt up to expose the skin of your stomach and the peaks of your breasts. Without a bra, he happily mouths around the pebbled nipple, bringing one into his mouth with a lewd wet noise that would have you cringing if he weren’t so dangerously hot, kneeling between your thighs and feasting on your body.
His pillow is comforting on your head when you fall back, throat exposed, and hands trembling through silver locks. “Xavier…”
The groan that reverberates through you sends your heart into overdrive. “Again.” Deep and commanding like the long-haired Xavier in the palace, he rasps out the order before switching attention to the other breast.
“Xavier,” another breath, another low moan when his pronounced bulge grinds against the dampening of your panties.
Xavier takes his time descending, sucking marks into your skin that bloom almost instantly. It isn’t until he’s reached the waistline of your panties that your hips buck on instinct, chasing something that you only want from him.
Hooking thumbs into the hem, your eyes meet Xavier’s, watching as he slowly pulls—
It’s like you’re falling.
Your body shoots out of bed, eyes wide and unfocused. The dream you just had, it seemed so real…
Too real.
Each breath catches in your lungs, reminding you of the sight between your thighs, messy hair tickling the bare skin while he readies himself to expose every delicious inch. But of course it was a dream. Of course, it wasn’t real. Isn’t real. Will never be real.
The ringing of your phone catches you off guard, and when you look at the Caller ID, your heart sinks.
“Hey, Xavier.” His name falls from your lips with a wince, like you don’t want to manifest anything in the short space between his apartment and yours. Not when it’s possible he can hear any whimpers or noises. “What’s up?” The short tone of your voice while you try to mask how breathless you are doesn’t work in the slightest because he sounds just as wrecked as he swallows the lump in his throat.
It’s like a standoff, wondering if one of you will mention the dream, because now you know he’s your soulmate, and he was there too. He said those words. The exact words that echo in your head when you close your eyes.
On the other line, Xavier sits up against his headboard, in grey sweatpants and no shirt, while he tries to process everything as if it hadn’t hit him like a freight train. “Hi,” just as fake-composed and breathy as you were.
“You had that dream too… Right?” You’re the first to broach the subject. Why else would he call at nearly one in the morning if he hadn’t woken up at the same time as you from a shared wet dream?
It also doesn’t help that you are in a baggy shirt and panties, just like the dream.
“Yeah.” Succinct is Xavier’s middle name, his chest still glistening with a light sheen of sweat as he runs a hand through his hair. Every breath he takes is nearly painful, like being so far away from you—even if it’s just one floor—and the following words come from a low gasp. “I did.”
He’s about to say something when your sweet voice rings in his head, saying every syllable that he had wanted to hear. It’s like a dream come true. Literally.
“Do you wanna come down to my apartment?” The invitation sits in the air for a second, marinating in the silence of what if I read it wrong? Or what if he was calling to tell you to stop dreaming of him, as if that were possible?
You wait and wait.
Only a minute passes until you hear a knock at your balcony.
Peeking your head out from the hallway, your stomach flutters when Xavier waves through the glass. His phone, still in his hand, faces you as he hits the ‘End Call’ button and points down to the handle. Let me in?
After seeing you in the pajamas, you don’t bother putting pants on as you pad over to the balcony doors and open them. He steps in, shivering slightly from the nipping cold, and stands there.
“How did you get down here?” You ask, and Xavier fights a laugh. Of all the things, this is what you say first? But it’s a welcome change to the intense atmosphere, sprinkling in some of the banter that’s always been there in your friendship. It’s the same comfort that you always bring him, even in his mood swings or quiet walks; you’re a presence that blankets over him and puts his heart at ease.
The tips of his ears turn pink as he rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his lips that sends goosebumps along your skin. “I teleported.”
“You teleported ten feet to my balcony.” You deadpan, the hint of a smile on your lips at how eager he just admitted to being. “Why didn’t you just teleport into my room?”
Wide eyes meet yours, and the blush on his ears deepens. Then, as if you hadn’t just had a borderline sex dream with him, “I didn’t want to teleport into your room without permission.”
All of his actions only reaffirm your feelings for him. It’s no longer a crush because you don’t think about a crush from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep. You don’t see small trinkets or colors and associate them with the color of your crush's eyes or his lips.
A small laugh, and as you stand in front of each other in your living room, it becomes increasingly clear what this means. The clouds have parted, revealing a shining truth that can’t be ignored anymore.
“You’re my soulmate.” You mumble.
“And you’re my soulmate.” He counters, the smile never leaving his lips as he stands too far away. You need him closer.
Silence.
Your hands fly to your face when you realize something.
“I confessed my crush on you the first night we shared a dream…” A groan of embarrassment and shame runs through you, hiding your heated cheeks and parted lips from him. “I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry. Oh my g—”
His fingers wrapping around your wrists bring you back to reality, cutting off your words with a single touch that sends a rush through you. Not a rush of desire, but a shock to your heart, bringing it back to life after being tempered down for so long. The worry of him not feeling the same, not being your soulmate, stops as soon as you meet his eyes.
“The dreams always ended before I could find the courage to confess.” He says it in such a matter-of-fact tone, like it was the easiest thing to admit, when in reality, his heart might stop at any minute from the nerves. “Don’t apologize…” Stepping closer, he leans down until his nose brushes yours. “I thought it was cute.”
This kiss is much like the first one in the dream. Exploratory and sweet. Just two people learning each other inside and out while also navigating this tricky road of feelings and fate. But for you and Xavier, both feelings and fate brought you together.
It’s too short, and you sigh when he pulls away much faster than you wanted.
But it’s not long until he’s whispering into the shared breaths between you. “Wanna pick up where we left off?”
His eyes darken when you nod, hands roaming your sides before tugging at your thighs—an unspoken command for you to wrap them around his bare waist. So you do.
Each kiss lines the path to your bedroom, which he knows from the times he’s come over and from the identical layout to his own place. It’s simple, really, how easily he fits into your life as more than a friend. As a soulmate. Like he was never meant to leave, staking permanent residency in your heart and kicking out anyone who would dare to knock.
“God, princess.” The growl rips from his throat when he pins you against the bedroom door. Hardwood meets your back, but it doesn’t hurt. You’re too preoccupied with Xavier’s lips on the line of your jaw and his clothed length grinding against your panties to think of anything else.
It’s so much like your dream, but infinitely better because this is real.
Your thighs tighten around his waist, head falling back to the wall while you tug harshly on his hair. It’s both a silent plea and a silent warning.
What you don’t expect is the deep and almost mocking chuckle that leaves him as he stands up straight. His lips leave your skin, glistening in spit and already red from how he was devouring your neck.
“What is it?” Tilting his head, there isn’t a moment you can recall him looking even hotter than he does now. Like daring you to say something else, or giving you a glimpse into how deep his desire runs for you. “Already too worked up to form words?”
It’s not mean, but the way he speaks so teasingly, as if he wasn’t wrecked himself, sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t get enough. You’ll never get enough. You don’t want to get enough.
“Xavier, please.”
He laughs at your plea, one of his hands kneading the flesh of your ass and the other slipping under the hem of your shirt just like in the dream. “Please, what?” Once again, his voice drops impeccably low, head dipping down to mouth at your neck while he whispers. “I’m not going to give you what you want that easily, princess.”
Damn him.
With all pretense of embarrassment gone, since he literally shared the same wet dream, you buck against his hips. “I want it all.” You finally relent, tilting your head to give him more access as he paints blooming flowers along your skin. “I want whatever you’ll give me.”
“Fuck—” Xavier wastes no more time, pulling off the door and setting you on the bed. Despite his harsh words, he’s still gentle in his handling of you. He knows you’re not glass, but he would never forgive himself if he actually hurt you.
Your shirt is the first to go, because with so few clothes separating you two, now just a pair of sweatpants and panties, it’s hard not to feel completely exposed to him. But the touch of his hands on your breasts, cupping and kneading them before lowering his head to kiss and suck the sensitive skin, has you arching into his touch.
“You’re playing a dangerous game.” He mumbles against your nipple, tongue flicking the pebbled bud before diving back in with increased fervor. The warning falls on deaf ears; your head is already full of everything you want him to do to you.
Defiant as always, you shake your head and lock your legs around his hips. “I don’t care.” You whimper, one of your hands digging into his scalp on the back of his head. “I need you.”
A mimicry of the dream, but this is real. This is Xavier.
Your Xavier.
“I’ve got you, princess.” Without the interruptions of sleep, his thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down in one smooth motion before holding your thighs open. Every time he uses his strength to put you in place, it makes you moan, your chest heaving with bated breath as he kisses along the inside of your thigh.
“I’ll start where we left off.” Licking his lips, his thumbs spread you open, exposing your throbbing clit and fluttering hole. Xavier takes a moment to admire how beautiful you look spread out for him, your muscles tensing under his fingertips and your hips twitching for more.
A long lick nearly crushes his head between your thighs. “So responsive.” He whispers, burying his face in your pussy without a care in the world for his oxygen levels. In this regard, he’s still learning. Each flick of his tongue is accompanied by an awkward kiss that does nothing but push you further into desperation. He’s teasing without meaning to, and when you whine again, he tilts his head.
“What?” Xavier whispers, and as he speaks, his middle finger traces the tight ring of muscle, pushing into the first knuckle and watching your reaction. “Making demands when you’re the one beneath me, princess.”
With one finger curled deep in your walls, you know you’re not going to last long. It’s been days—maybe weeks, maybe months—of zoning off at your desk, imagining the way Xavier’s hands flex and move under those gloves and how they would feel on your bare skin. Or his perfect nose and how perfectly he could rub your clit while his tongue is deep inside you.
Thoughts you never imagined would become reality are so close, and you can’t help the wanton moan that slips when he thrusts his finger while making out with your slick pussy. “You’re so… beautiful… You know?” Every few words are punctuated by a loud kiss to your clit, feeling the way you pulse around him, and he’s very quickly becoming addicted to it.
“Fuck, god. Xavier—”
“I know, I know.” He relents, watching the twisting in your expression morph into one of pure ecstasy when he adds a second finger, stretching you out to the point of subtle pressure but not discomfort. It’s when he suctions his lips around your bundle of nerves that your body is lit up by a live wire.
“Come on, princess.” A groan vibrates through your clit, and every sensation imaginable hits you square in the chest. His fingers buried deep inside you, curling with each thrust forward to grind against that spongy spot. His tongue and lips find out precisely what makes you squirm and use it to his advantage.
But the one thing that’s your undoing is his voice.
The praise mixed with the teasing depth doesn’t help the heat pooling in your abdomen, and all it takes is Xavier lifting his head to whisper a reverent. “Wanna see how perfect you are when you come around my fingers,” to push you straight over the edge.
Xavier’s other hand locks onto your hip, making sure you don’t move away from him while your warm walls pulse around his digits. If his cock wasn’t already throbbing and desperate…
“Good girl,” the soothing words are spoken into your inner thigh, catching your breath as he cleans off his fingers with his mouth. It’s lewd and borderline erotic when he strips off the last of his clothing, revealing the curved length that’s leaking and begging for you.
Xavier stares down at you, one hand stroking his cock while the other massages the muscles in your calf. His eyes roam your body, taking in everything he’s ever imagined. “Fuck, princess. You look amazing like this.”
While he speaks, the tip of his cock parts your folds, teasing you with just the head dipping inside your entrance before withdrawing. It’s cruel, you think, as your hands reach out for him.
His hand pushes your leg up, bending your knee and spreading you even wider for him. “I thought about putting you on your hands and knees.” He’s speaking absentmindedly, more to himself than to you, his imagination running wild. “But I want to see your pretty face when I fill you for the first time.”
Before you can respond, he’s sinking in you. It’s so slow that you might cry from how intense it is. The stretch, the heat, how full you feel, and when he’s finally flush against your pelvis, how perfectly he fits inside you.
“Like I was made for you.” A smirk curls at his lips, but all you can do is whimper and stare up at him through watery eyes.
Leaning down, he maneuvers your leg until it’s in the same bent position as the other one, your calves resting on his shoulders, and your body completely at his mercy. But like this, so spread out and vulnerable underneath him? It’s the most intoxicating pleasure you’ve ever felt.
“Can I move?” A nod, and one of his hands slides up your arm to thread your fingers together right beside your head. “Words, princess.”
“Ye-ah… Please,” you gasp out, forehead resting against Xavier’s as he draws back all the way, just to drive forward into you with a grunt. Both of you let out a shuddering breath, puzzle pieces falling together like sand in time’s hourglass.
Xavier is feral, his body moving on its own accord as he fucks you with slow, deep strokes. He’s savoring every moan that you let out, swallowing it with his lips while holding onto your hand for dear life.
“Imagined this.” He pants against your lips, spit-slicked and swollen from how he’s kissed you like a maniac. “You under me…”
“Xav—” Your moan is cut off by his kiss, all teeth, tongue, and whispered promises. Promises for the future, promises for the present, promises for every life after this one. All of it is written into your skin with each grind of his hips against yours.
His hand presses your arm into the mattress, holding you still so your head doesn’t hit the headboard above you. Even in the depths of pleasure and haze of desire, he needs to make sure you won’t get hurt.
The way your legs are pushed against you is uncomfortable at first, folded in half like a pretzel while he drives himself so deep inside you that the only thing you can think of is Xavier and his cock.
“Fuck, Xavier… Your cock—” A broken moan comes when he angles his hips just right, wiping your brain of all words. Only sounds emit from your parted lips as your eyes fill with tears, hazing over your irises.
He hums, his other hand moving to thread through your fingers until both of your hands are held above you, clasped in Xavier’s like he’s your last lifeline. “I know, princess.” Speaking through gritted teeth, he fights the urge to explode when your pussy clenches around him. “You feel amazing… ‘m not gonna last long.”
“Yeah…” You echo breathlessly, wanting so bad to buck your hips but unable to move at all with the position you’re in. “Me— me too.”
Then, he’s kissing you again, his tongue tangling with yours while you fall into a puddle under him. One orgasm is intense, but the second one creeps up on you without warning.
All it takes is for him to dig his knees into the bed, changing his pace to grind his pubic bone into your sensitive clit, and you’re coming around him with a whine that borders on a scream.
Xavier talks you through it, kissing your cheeks and forehead, while whispering how good you are for him. Each word of praise fills your head with satisfaction, and you find that you like him like this. Teasing and slightly mean yet endlessly comforting and worshiping.
“Good girl, good girl.” His thumbs massage circles into the side of your hands, but as soon as your orgasm subsides, you suck a breath through your teeth when he keeps moving.
“Xavier— wha—” A moan, your body twitching and jerking in his grasp as he lets go of your hands and gives your thighs a break. Taking you out of that fold, your legs fall limp at your sides, and he takes the opportunity to grip your hips and pull you back onto his cock.
His pace this time is maddening. It alternates between quick pounding and deep grinding, driving you crazy as your nails dig into his shoulder blades.
“There you go, princess.” He grunts, teeth clenched as you mark him up like a signature.
“‘s… too much— Xavi—” Your body burns with a stinging pain that sends sharp pangs of pleasure heating your bloodstream. Even if you say it’s too much, you don’t make a move to push him off of you. In fact, you bring him closer, your nails biting into his skin and holding him flush against you as he continues to wreck you from the inside out.
Xavier laughs against your sweat-slick neck. “Come on, princess. You can give me one more.” His kisses distract you momentarily, but he starts the quick drilling of his hips, your voice pitching up into a scream as he kisses the shell of your ear. “Just tell me to stop, and I will.”
But you don’t.
Luckily, you don’t have to do any of the work. He pushes and pulls you, hips meeting yours as he pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you. His hair is damp with sweat, cheeks flushed, and eyes half-lidded and dark while he kisses you one more time.
“You look so beautiful. Doing so well for me.” Whisper after whisper, the tears slip down your cheeks as overstimulation sends you into another frenzy, one that has your grip tightening on his cock and hips grinding back into him in a slow rhythm.
One of his hands cups your cheek, thumb wiping away the tear that falls as he feels himself getting closer and closer. “So pretty when you cry for me,” the praise whispered against your lips, has your heart racing in your chest. “So so pretty, my princess.”
He’s out of it, body going on autopilot while he praises you between kisses. “Gonna fill you up, okay?” A nod. “Mmhm.” A sound of displeasure, his nose brushing yours when he shakes his head. “Words.”
“Please, yes.” In the depths of two orgasms, it’s like a dream with the ecstasy that races through your body, wanting anything and everything he’s giving you and more—all of him, every last inch; yours for the taking.
“Fuck… Darling…”
The sound of slapping skin is the only thing that echoes around you, your body tensing while he digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip, holding on for dear life as he stills. Your orgasms—your third and his first—hit at the same time, bodies colliding like shooting stars on opposite paths.
His cock twitches, filling you while you both come down from the intensity of learning you’re soulmates, fucking, and the aftermath that hits you with tired limbs and sweaty skin.
“You okay?” He whispers, his lips finding your temple while he looks down at you. The last of your tears falls, and he catches them with his thumb. “You did so well for me, princess.”
A pleased hum leaves you, but it’s quickly replaced with a disappointed whine when his soft cock slips from your used hole, some of his release ruining the sheets. It takes him a moment to stand back and not immediately get hard again, but he can’t help it when you look so pretty, laid out like this, covered in remnants of him blooming on your skin and dripping from you.
“I’ll be right back.” He leans down to kiss your forehead before retreating to get a wet cloth. Xavier cleans you off with slow strokes, ensuring you’re semi-clean before tossing the cloth and blanket off the bed.
Once again, he disappears, but it’s only to start a warm bath. While that fills up, he sits on the side of the bed, his hand rubbing small circles into your knee. “Can you walk?”
“I don’t know.”
A chuckle, his eyes finding yours, and everything stops. “I’ll carry you.” He reassures, in a voice so serious that you stop breathing for a moment. “I’ve got you. I always will.”
After the bath, when the sheets are changed, and you’re in a new pair of pajamas, you cuddle close to him. Your head rests perfectly on his chest, listening to his heartbeat steady against your ear.
“Xavier?” He hums. “Can we still meet in our dreams?”
“Of course.” His lips find the top of your head. “Soulmates will always share dreams. Just think of me, and I’ll appear.” The brush of his nose along your hairline makes you shiver. “I’ll even take you out on a date in your dreams if you want.”
Despite the sleep pulling at your eyelids, you still force yourself to answer. “Why don’t you take me out on a date in the real world?” Knowing he harbors the same feelings as you means you can be a bit more shameless with the flirting.
He laughs, the sound vibrating against your cheek as you nuzzle closer to him. “Are you asking me out on a date?” Rolling your eyes, you whine, but are immediately cut off when he kisses your forehead. “I’m kidding, princess. A date in the real world sounds amazing. But first.” Xavier tugs the blanket around you, freshly changed and smelling of your laundry soap. It’s the first night in a while where he’s sure he’ll sleep well, because he has his world in his arms.
That night, he dreams of a field of forget-me-nots. They seem so tall, but he’s quick to realize he’s a small rabbit. He finds you, because he always will, and without words, you hop away from him. It prompts a chase of sorts, frollicking through the fields while the sun caresses his fur.
Everything feels right, and you find yourself smiling in your sleep as you hop away from a bunny Xavier. It seems silly, but this dream is a reminder of the tie your souls have with each other, and the comfort that being with him brings you.
Because no matter what dreamscape you're in—whether it be as people, as plants, as animals, or even stars—you’ll always have your Xavier.
·······•✦ description: In the wake of missions piling on your plate, all it takes is one undercover mission in the N109 Zone for you to see your beloved again, finally. But maintaining secrecy while also sneaking glances at Sylus can only go so far, and a lead to some more information brings both you and Sylus to the floors above the auction to an empty room…
·······•✦ pairing: sylus x afab!reader
·······•✦ word count: 3.2k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Established Relationship, Undercover Missions, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, slight angst, Sneaking Around, Teasing, Undressing, Against a Wall, Improper Use of Evol, But Sylus is also strong, Cunnilingus, Pussy Drunk Sylus, Wet & Messy, Thighs as earmuffs, Female Reader-Insert, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Dirty Talk, No use of y/n, POV Second Person
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
Protocore auctions are your specialty.
It’s why the Association trusted you enough with the serious intel of illegal trading that has breached Linkon’s borders. What was once a recurring black market for the N109 Zone had become a problem for Linkon and its much brighter skies. Shrouded in darkness but pushed into the light, stunning the government.
They kept it a secret from the citizens, choosing to deal with it in the best way they knew how; leaning on their Hunters to gather enough intel to dispel the criminals once and for all.
That’s where you come in.
Your fourth auction of the month strikes on a night that you didn’t expect. In fact, you wanted to give Sylus—your boyfriend—a call, asking him to come over because god, you missed him… But another impromptu mission ripped you away from the only time you could spend with him in weeks. Long, excruciating weeks where all you wanted was to have a simple face-to-face conversation… But it was turned into radio silence.
Until your phone dings with a text message, the familiar chat bubble popping up when you open it.
From Sy [6:29 pm]:
I’ll see you tonight, sweetie. It’s been a while.
The subtle nuance in his words brings a smile to your face. There are times when he is straightforward, telling you his honest feelings, but sometimes he shrouds the actual intention that tells you he misses you without actually saying it.
You don’t answer him back with words, just a crow emoticon holding a heart before setting off to the auction.
The first steps you take are the most important ones. It helps you scout out where everyone is, the layout of the building’s bottom floor, the ballroom with rows of chairs facing the stage, and the best escape routes should anything start to go south.
It’s easy to keep your composure, pick up a glass that you don’t dare drink—because who knows what’s in it—and walk toward the middle of the room. Almost like a chameleon, you can mix with many different groups of people, both criminals and ordinary people alike.
Staying close to the wall is too dangerous; you would stick out like a sore thumb, so you drift toward the middle, finding the last row of chairs for the auction and shifting your weight from one leg to the other. The creamy white color of your shoes highlights your skin, legs poking out from the hem of your dress that stops right below your knee. It’s perfect for gatherings like this, not too formal but not too risque.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a deep voice startles you from your scan of the room, turning to meet eyes with Sylus, and wow, you have to keep your jaw from dropping. His suit is tailored fit, accentuating his waist and broad shoulders in a way that nearly has you drooling, but you’re able to keep it together.
Despite wanting to jump into his arms, hug him close—and kiss him senseless—you settle for a raised eyebrow, not giving in to him that easily. “Hm, I’m so sorry it’s been a while.” Reaching out, recognition flickers in his eyes at the exact words he used in his text message earlier. “Been a busy month, huh?”
Long fingers brush your palm, holding your hand like a delicate flower and bringing it up to his lips. The featherlight kiss sends electricity through you, your other hand tightening around the glass. “Too busy.” His breath fans out across your skin. “I’ve neglected the one thing most important to me.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks, and as Sylus’ eyes dart to the side, he drops your hand. “Seems you have an admirer, kitten.” You follow the direction of his gaze, seeing an older man staring at you. He seems not to notice Sylus, or is too enraptured by you to care. “You’ve put him under your spell.”
Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head, smile cracking at the edges of your lips. “Like I did to you?”
The banter is welcome in the stifling atmosphere of the ballroom. So many people there, each with different motives and different danger levels. It’s something you’ve dealt with before, and having Sylus here provides some other level of subtle comfort, knowing he would do anything to protect you should something happen.
The rumble in his chest is close to a laugh, but he steels his expression into something a bit harder, like he’s challenging anyone to look at him wrong. “Don’t go charming other men, kitten.” He purrs, his eyes playful if his pulled, thin lips weren’t. “I would hope I’m your one and only.”
Those words are whispered, making sure no one will hear them. To have your cover blown by Sylus, the feared Onychinus leader, would mean an automatic target on your back.
Before you can say anything, Sylus is gone without a trace, blending into the crowd despite his tall stature. But instead of chasing after him, you do the same. Blending in to gather intel, whispering with others about deals and upcoming auctions around the city. You learn about scheduled hits from a woman you had met at a previous Protocore auction, as well as other crimes stirring to life in the N109 Zone.
The night is still young, hushed chatter bouncing off the walls while you linger around people. Your last conversation ended, and while you look around to figure out your next move, a familiar presence brushes your shoulder.
“If you’re looking for more intel,” Sylus’ lips come so close to your ear, “I know just where to poke around.”
The last hour has been spent doing your job, stealing glances at your boyfriend from afar, and finding his eyes already on you. They burn into your skin, lighting a fire that, come the time you can actually visit in the privacy of his or your home, you’ll take full advantage of.
“Is that so?” You ask, the subtle touch of his fingers on your lower back sending a rush through you. “Care to enlighten me?”
He laughs, his head tilting in the direction of the exit. “Give it a second and then follow me.” From what you’ve observed, there’s been no suspicion placed on you or Sylus, but the extra bit of caution goes a long way with such observant people.
So, you go along with his plan, watching him walk out and waiting a sufficient amount of time to follow him. When you round the corner, finding nothing except an empty hallway, you walk a few more steps until the clearing of a throat breaks your train of thought.
“You really thought I abandoned you?” He teases, standing right outside the elevator door, his hand outstretched.
“Of course not.” You counter, stepping up to wrap your arm around his clothed bicep, the muscles flexing under your touch. The first touch like this in so long, and Sylus sighs, releasing the pent-up frustration and longing he’s felt for you that’s built up for a month. “Lead the way, boss.”
Sylus laughs, loud and proud, while hitting the button for the third floor. “The only people allowed to call me that are Luke and Kieran.” He jokes, his hip bumping yours when he looks at you. Each glance ignites another fire, sparking across your body until your eyes meet.
“So I can’t call you boss?” In the quiet of the elevator, the tension can be cut like a knife. It’s so thick that you almost worry you’re standing in quicksand, unable to move an inch when he’s leaning even closer.
Sylus shakes his head. “No.” Short and simple, the lights shining in his eyes like rubies. “For you, the title boyfriend, or honey, or something simple like Sy.” Listing off all the nicknames you have for him, your heart threatens to beat out of your chest. The love reserved only for him bounces right back at you with each word he says. You can feel the warmth in his eyes, something untamed and completely free.
When the elevator opens, you almost miss it. “Lead the way, boyfriend.” You whisper as Sylus holds the door open for you, not missing the smile on his face as he starts walking down the hall with you by his side.
Just how it should be.
It isn’t until you stop in front of an empty room, one with a large table meant for conferences, that you realize he’s been lying through his teeth. But you’re not angry, because the moment the door closes, you’re pulled into his arms.
His nose bumps your temple, one hand pressing against your bare skin. He rubs small circles, toying with the back of your dress, ready to undo the knot in the satin material.
“My love…” He breathes, letting his walls crumble. For the moment, he’s not the big, bad boss of Onychinus. He’s just Sylus, your tall, buff boyfriend who melts the minute your eyes meet. “I’ve missed you.”
The words he doesn’t explicitly say finally tumble out, and he lets out a sigh of relief when your arms wrap around his neck, fingers threading through his hair to bring him even closer. It’s refreshing to hear it against your temple, making sure your body knows just as much as your mind does.
“I’ve missed you, too, Sy.” You say back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His cologne—so explicitly Sylus—that your heart flows with so much love. Each shirt of his you’ve worn, each hug, each night you’ve spent lying on his chest or curled up to his side, comes rushing back to you. “I’ve really missed you.”
Work has pulled you away from each other, but the love you share is so strong that the moment you fall into his arms, it’s like nothing changed.
Silence fills the room, the only noise being your combined breathing as you melt into his embrace. It’s like coming home after being shipped away to a foreign country, but it’s also like realizing that the one person who has seen every part of you and still loves you has been feeling the exact same way.
“The texts and calls aren't the same as having you in my arms.” He presses a small kiss to the crown of your head, then your forehead, then the bridge of your nose, until finally, finally, slotting against yours.
The kiss was all-consuming, overwhelming you in the best way possible, while he reached behind you to lock the door to the conference room. But his hand isn’t gone long, anchoring to the space between your shoulder blades like a magnet.
“I don’t ever want to let go of you,” Sylus whispers against your lips, the cold metal of his watch biting against your back as his other hand roams your curves, committing everything to memory as if he ever really forgot. “I don’t ever want to go a month without seeing you again.”
His forehead finds yours, eyes closed and taking in every bit of contact. Yet, it’s still not enough. It’ll never be enough. Not until he can wake up to your face and fall asleep with you in his arms every single day for the rest of eternity.
“You don’t have to, Sylus.” The tip of your nose nuzzles his, goosebumps raising on your arms. His touch is constant, thumb rubbing circles into your hip while kneading every bit of flesh that fills out the shape of your dress. “We’ll make more time for each other, I promise.”
“Good,” the innocence of his hand stops, finding the swell of your ass while meeting the your eyes. Then, in a voice softer than the grip on your body: “I love you.”
Cupping the back of his neck, you play with the short hair, soothing the tense muscles there. In the middle of the darkened room, lit only by moonlight and the stars up above, you feel the beating of your heart calm despite the heat curling in your abdomen.
“I love you more.” The challenge comes with a smirk.
Sylus chuckles, pulling back enough to turn you around and press you against the door. He presses a kiss to the exposed skin of your shoulder. “Impossible.” He mumbles, large hands holding onto your hips as he molds his body against yours. “I love you to the ends of every dimension,” another kiss, “every universe,” another kiss, “every planet and back.”
Kneeling down, he nips at your shoulder blade, catching the hitch in your breath while your nails dig into the doorframe. “Let me prove it.” He whispers, kissing down your spine until he reaches the tie of your dress.
“Go ahead.” Your consent gives him the green light, and within seconds, your dress is untied. You let him slip the one sleeve down, exposing your bare breasts to the chill of the air and hardening your nipples almost instantly. “Fu- Sy…”
“You’re so beautiful,” his lips continue worshiping you, kneeling to a goddess—his goddess—and not caring who saw. If someone were to walk in, he would immediately exterminate the issue coming between him and his heart. Because, in truth, you hold his heart in your hands.
Desperation sounds out in your voice. “Stop teasing,” to which he answers with a tug at your dress, sliding it down until the only thing covering you is your thong.
“Matching panties?” He notes, kissing your lower back right where the hem of your underwear sits on your figure. “Cute, but I prefer you without them.”
In a split second, your panties are down, the only thing left being your shoes, but why would Sylus take those off when you look so sexy with the little bows and straps?
Tendrils of his Evol tingle like electricity on your skin, moving you until you’re staring down at Sylus, his suit wrinkled from kneeling down, and pupils wide with desire. He’s never one to dive headfirst into his greed, but as soon as he sees your smile, hears the softness in your voice when you say, “I need you,” he gives in.
His Evol lifts you against the door, holding you still while he wraps his fingers around your thighs. Now, like this, he’s right where he wants to be, inches away from your heat that begs for him in glistening arousal coating your folds.
“God, love,” kissing the inside of your ankle, his eyes never leave yours as he takes his time moving up your leg, across your knee, up the inside of your thigh—enjoying the way you tense under his warmth—before flicking his tongue out to taste you. He’s gone down on you too many times to count, but fuck did he miss this.
Your thigh is held by his Evol, spreading you even wider for him to kiss the hood of your clit. “Always so responsive for me…” He trails off, too preoccupied with the way your pussy clenches around nothing.
Despite the strength of the red and black tendrils, your arms aren’t held, so you can thread fingers through his hair, needing something else to anchor to when he licks a stripe from your entrance to your throbbing bundle of nerves. Words are no longer required when he dives in to devour you.
“Fuck-” your mouth falls open, noises spilling out with every flat press of his tongue or rugged grip of his hand on your thigh. Like you’ll float away if he even thinks about letting go. “Sylus.”
Your sanity is slipping away with each loud slurp, hips wiggling and thighs flexing in the need to close around him. Pleasure mounts, the heat in your body climbing as his Evol steadies you. Sylus would never let you fall.
Sylus doesn’t attempt to talk, too preoccupied with teasing every inch of you, making sure you know how much he’s missed you, missed this. He doesn’t need oxygen when he can feast on your pussy like a madman, each whimper and moan you let out enough for him to survive on. Because he doesn’t need anything else, only you.
One of his hands slips around to your ass. Obsessed with the way you feel under his fingers, he pulls you closer, your back arching off the door, and ankles crossing behind his back. He’s still fully clothed, the expensive fabric of his suit caressing your calves and shoulders, providing the perfect rest for your thighs.
Sweat accumulates on your brow, shining on your forehead and threatening to ruin your makeup. The moon glistens off your beautiful skin.
Who needs treasure when the real gem is beneath him right now?
“Sy,” you warn, your voice breathy and overwhelmed as both of your hands hold the back of his head. Fingers tug at the white strands, coaxing him and telling him how fucking good it feels. “I’m close- fuck!”
His tongue dips in your entrance, past the pulsing ring of muscle, until your warmth is the only thing he can feel. The hand gripping your thigh comes up to your wrist, moving until your fingers are intertwined, and he can squeeze your hand. With the way he moves his head—back and forth, then pushing slightly forward—the tip of his nose finds your clit just right, teasing the throbbing bundle with his perfectly curved nose.
Then, if you didn’t think it could feel any better, he licks a long, slow stripe up your pussy, lips finding your clit, and he sucks. Anybody who walks by this room would know someone’s in here doing something explicit, but when you come with a moan of his name, neither of you has it in you to care.
Your hips twitch, thighs flexing and chest heaving as his other hand moves from your back to your breast, kneading and teasing your nipple. Each time he touches you, it’s another promise to do nothing except worship you for the rest of his life.
It’s only when your palm finds his forehead, pushing him away as overstimulation edges into the end of your orgasm, that he sits back with an infuriatingly hot smirk. His cheek nuzzles against the inside of your thigh, and he stares up at you with a face coated in your release.
“Guess you aren’t going back to the auction,” you joke through deep breaths, allowing Sylus to lower you to the ground with his Evol slowly.
He’s silent as he takes his time dressing you, sliding your dress up, and tying it in the back. The one thing he keeps? Your panties get tucked into the pocket of his suit, one arm wiping away some of the evidence of his endeavors between your thighs, but Sylus just leans down to peck your lips.
“I’ve handled my business and you’ve handled yours.” He moves swiftly, one arm swiping your knees until he’s carrying you while holding your bag in the other. “There’s only one thing left to do.”
You can’t help the smile on your face, still out of breath but glad to be back in his arms. “What?”
Tendrils of his Evol wrap around you, the air crackling just as it does before he teleports. One last kiss—because he can’t resist you when your hair is slightly messy and your eyes are hazy with desire.
·······•✦ description: when Zayne comes home from what feels like the longest shift of his life, you and Caleb realize how tired he seems, and as he moves to start writing a report for the Akso Medical Journal... well, there are some things that you can do to coax him away from the onslaught of work for the night. he deserves a break, right?
·······•✦ pairing: caleb x afab!reader x zayne
·······•✦ word count: 3.1k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Established Relationship, Threesome - F/M/M, Polyamory, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Boys Kissing, Neck Kissing, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Praise Kink, Creampie, Two of them, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Fluff and Smut, Dirty Talk, No use of y/n, POV Second Person, Cowgirl Position
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
The slow shutting of the front door has both you and Caleb looking over to find a silent Zayne striding in. His coat has already been discarded on the rack, shoes gone, and glasses crooked on his sharp nose. He looks disheveled, but the light red dusting on the tips of his ears from the cold, as well as the flexing muscles of his biceps as he rolls up his sleeves, keeps you staring.
“Long day?” You look up at Zayne, eyes softening as he walks up to where you sit. He’s speechless, his sharp eyes trailing over the way Caleb’s hand smooths along the outside of your thigh, tracing circles into your skin. Instead of words, he answers with a quick kiss to your forehead and then to Caleb’s.
“Guess it was a long day,” Caleb whispers in your ear, his chuckle cut short when Zayne glances back at the two of you before slipping into his study. “He’s been quiet lately, hasn’t he?”
Sitting between Caleb’s legs, the only way to meet his eye is to twist your body. “Mhm,” humming, you relax in your boyfriend’s embrace as he tightens his grip around you. “He’s been working longer at the hospital,” you whisper back, raising an eyebrow as the man in question comes back into the living room with his laptop and a pad of paper.
“More reports?” Caleb’s hands roam your hips, like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. It’s so instinctual to him at this point that when his cold fingers shock your bare skin, he mumbles a soft, “Sorry, honey,” against your temple.
Zayne nods, scooting closer to the dining room table. The laptop screen illuminates his face, and he takes a moment to jot something down on the paper before looking up to his two partners cuddling on the couch. “Yes, more reports.” An almost inaudible sigh racks his chest as he presses one finger to his temple. With the extra hours and surgeries at the hospital, he’s getting a headache behind his left eye.
“These last two surgeries involved less invasive options that were successes.” He continues, his fingers lightning fast on the keyboard. “I have to chart my findings for the next Akso Medical Journal.” The screen reflects off his glasses, almost obscuring his hazel-green eyes that flicker so quickly between you, Caleb, and then back to his laptop.
“Oooooh,” a quick kiss is pressed to your neck, Caleb’s voice dropping to a whisper. “Our boyfriend is so professional right now–”
“I can hear you.” Zayne doesn’t bother looking up at the younger man. “I’m not that far away.”
Caleb is quick to reply, one hand rubbing the side of your torso while the other toys with the hem of his shirt that you’re wearing. “Maybe I wanted you to hear, Doc.” Even as he speaks, he doesn’t regard you while his fingers dance closer to the edge of your panties. “Maybe…” he draws out the last syllable, “I wanna bribe you into taking a little break.”
“Cal–”
“I don’t take bri–”
Both you and Zayne speak at the same time.
You, because you’re already in a vulnerable position sitting between Caleb’s thighs and surprised at the sudden boldness, though it’s not unwelcome.
Zayne, because he’s all of a sudden too distracted by Caleb pulling your shirt up to show a small strip of skin above your underwear, the touch growing bolder until the latter’s thumb hooks into the waistband.
“You good, baby?” Caleb’s whisper is meant only for you, his eyes moving back to where you sat, face burning and legs already twitching with anticipation. When you answer with a nod, Caleb grows even bolder.
His hands hook under your knees, spreading you wide to expose the seat of your underwear, the fabric darker now with moist wetness gathering there. “Come on, love.” The pet name has Zayne’s ears burning, unsure of whether to look into Caleb’s stormy irises or at your covered pussy. “You’ve worked so hard today. You deserve a break, don’t ya?”
With his body in the perfect position, Caleb traps your legs between the tops of his thighs and his upper arms. Like this, you couldn’t wiggle out of his grasp, caught in his web he’s woven of limbs and muscle. But when Caleb spreads you wider, his middle finger teasing the seam of your pussy through your panties? The whimper that rips from your throat is downright addictive to the two men in the room.
“Well,” his restraint is all but gone, and with a third of his report finished already, Zayne shuts his laptop and stands from the dining room table. “Who am I to argue with my two favorite people?”
It’s uncomfortable, the dampness between your legs and how sticky your underwear is when Caleb finally reaches your clit, but all is lost on you at the sharp sound that echoes through the room. Rip! Cold air hits your folds, and Zayne pauses for a moment to take in the sight.
You, writhing in Caleb’s arms, your legs restrained, panties ripped from your body only to be tossed aside, and your eyes wide with desire. Meanwhile, the younger man has the widest grin on his lips, enjoying the pull he has over both you and the doctor. The smirk on his face is deadly, drawing Zayne in even more to the point that somehow he’s already unbuttoned half of his shirt without his knowledge.
“She’s soooo wet,” Caleb’s deep voice rumbles against your ear, for you to both feel and hear. His teasing tone only riles you up, your hips moving to attempt to get some friction from Caleb’s fingers tracing your outside folds. “You should feel.”
Zayne’s eyebrows quirk, glasses sliding down his nose, and he pushes them back up. “Don’t mind if I do.” The moment he’s standing in front of you, he kneels down until his face is level with your pussy. “Darling?” The single-word question that doesn’t even sound like a question feels intense coming from Zayne’s parted lips, but the nod you give him and his long finger slipping inside you with a soft squelch is like a fire igniting in the middle of your bones.
“Fu–ck,” your head falls back onto Caleb’s shoulder. It’s only one finger, and yet, you’re already trying to buck up against Zayne’s thumb that finds your clit. The problem—or rather, the beautiful feature of your doctor boyfriend—is his long fingers.
They’re longer than Caleb’s, but not as thick, so even when they switch who is fucking into you while your eyes are closed, you can tell the difference. “Caleb–” the moan rips from your throat when the aforementioned man chuckles against your neck. His two fingers hook into you, and the palm of his hand grinds against your clit with each beckoning motion he strokes your walls with.
Zayne’s finger hovers over your lips when you lift your head to look at the man kneeling before you. “Open,” the command is gentler than one would assume, and as soon as you do, your taste hits you. His middle finger rests on the flat of your tongue, pushing enough to keep your mouth open but not to hurt you. “Good girl.” The sight of you like this, a thick string of saliva already beginning to accumulate at the corner of your lips, your eyes dilated, and pussy filled with your colonel boyfriend’s thick fingers, is absolutely breathtaking.
“You like this, honey?” Caleb asks, but his following sentence is cut off when Zayne leans forward to kiss him. It’s a clash of teeth and tongues, but holding back for too long is never Zayne’s strong suit when it comes to you and Caleb. When they pull apart with a grunt from each other, Caleb takes a moment to clear the fog in his brain before resuming. “Like bein’ filled by my fingers while Zaynie makes you taste yourself?”
You nod. “Mmphmm,” a jarbled mix of letters and syllables is meant to form into “yes, yes”, but it’s nothing more than a moan and incoherent words. “HmphZayneCaleb…”
“Hear that, love?” The two men lock eyes, and when your lips wrap around Zayne’s finger, the doctor starts thrusting inside your wet mouth with slow pushes. Caleb kisses your neck, the smile still present on his face despite how hot it’s becoming. “She’s callin’ our names.”
“She is,” Zayne replies, his cock straining in his pants as he feels your warm tongue wrapping around his finger. “She’s sucking so hard on my finger. I assume she wants more?”
“Mhm… Mhm,” you nod once again, your eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. Even if you try to speak—a weak “please” not making it past Zayne’s knuckle—it’s impossible with the lewd wet noises from your pussy and your two boyfriends’ heavy breathing.
Zayne and Caleb make eye contact.
“Bedroom?” Caleb asks, paying no mind to your excited moan and the way your hips buck against his fingers.
Zayne smirks, his eyes never leaving yours. “Bedroom.” He agrees, pulling his fingers from between your lips but giving you no rest as he kisses you with increased fervor. “Hold tight,” the words barely slip out before he’s scooping you from Caleb’s lap, your legs wrapping around his waist without needing to be told. His hands settle under your ass, holding you close to him and turning to walk to the bedroom.
Behind you both, Caleb follows, his hands already stripping himself of his shirt and leaving it like a brand in the hallway. His chiseled abdomen flexes as he watches you both, his heart racing far beyond normal. But it isn’t until he meets your eye over Zayne’s shoulder, your eyes hazy with desire and lips slightly swollen from the kisses, that he knows this is precisely where he belongs.
As soon as Zayne crawls into his bed—the same bed that he shares with you and Caleb at times when one or both of you would spend the night—the blanket cradles your body. The only piece of clothing you had on—one of Caleb’s shirts—is discarded the moment your head hits the pillow, and to give you a moment to catch your breath, both of your boyfriends stand to the side of the bed and begin to strip.
“Top or bottom?” Caleb questions, his sweatpants and boxers falling off with ease to reveal his thick cock. He doesn’t touch himself, wanting to save that for the actual moment he can sink inside you. “Actually,” before Zayne can respond, Caleb cuts him off. “You worked too hard today. You deserve a rest, right, honey?”
Your hand grazes your thigh, enticing the two almost naked men. “Yeah, let me ride you, Zaynie.”
Said man groans, nearly popping the button of his slacks in an attempt to get them off faster. “How can I–oof say no to that?” Stepping out of his briefs, he crawls into bed. His eyes never leave yours as you swing one leg over his lap, his long cock stuck between you.
“Zayne–” his hands anchor to your hips, pulling you back and forth in a slow grind of his cock between your puffy folds, “fuck…”
“God, you both look so hot,” Caleb groans, the bed creaking as he climbs on and kneels behind you. Warmth radiates from your skin, and the younger man lifts your hips and wraps his hand around Zayne’s cock. “Lemme help you, honey.”
Zayne grunts, his fingers tight on your hips while Caleb teases him. “No teasing, Caleb.” His clipped words are spoken through clenched teeth, and your own whimper of agreement is met with a laugh.
“Alright, alright,” Caleb’s hand pushes on your lower back, easing you to sit on Zayne’s cock. It’s been at least a week since you’ve been with both of them, so the stretch from just Zayne has you burying your face in the crook of the doctor’s neck. Your breath is like a hot iron on the man’s skin.
The heat takes a rapid climb, your pussy already pulsing around Zayne’s cock as you sit flush against his hips. “F–” the word can’t even make it past your lips, your hands flat against the bedding in some semblance of anchor to more than the warm skin pressed against your chest.
“Look at you both…” Stroking himself, he uses his other hand to help you relax, his thumb tracing slow circles into your lower back. “So fucking hot.”
“Take a second, darling,” Zayne whispers against your temple, a quick peck placed there as you grind against his lap to get used to the stretch.
While you relax in Zayne’s arms, Caleb takes this opportunity to lean forward, his chest fitting the curves and dips of your back, to kiss his boyfriend. Zayne responds with a surprised groan, but welcomes the kiss with parted lips and tangled tongues. Your eyes stay closed, but the wet smacking of lips and echoed grunts from the two men tell you all you need to know.
And when Caleb’s cock brushes against your ass, his hips hitching in search of some friction, he sighs in Zayne’s mouth. “Need you both,” he whispers, his own body taking on a mind of its own as he dives back in for another kiss.
With Caleb working as a colonel in Skyhaven, he spends half of his time there in the clouds, coming down to Linkon as often as he can with the quick train ride, which is hard to deal with at times. Yes, he wants nothing more than to live his life normally with you and Zayne, but it isn’t very easy.
Which is why, when you lift your head to meet Caleb’s eyes and whisper, “Come on, fuck me already,” he can’t resist the already fucked out smile on your face. “Please?”
That’s all it takes.
“Alright, honey.” Caleb sits back, a line of saliva connecting his and Zayne’s mouths. “Deep breaths, remember?” You nod, wiggling your hips and eliciting a grunt from the man below you. When the tip of Caleb’s cock traces your already full hole, he leans down to kiss your shoulder blade. “Gonna go slow, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you.”
All three of you share a moan as Caleb eases himself in, making sure you’re wet enough while also adding his own spit to moisten everything even more. Halfway seated inside you, he pauses, nipping at your shoulder. “So tight already… Fuuuck.” Not wanting to accidentally spear you on their cocks, Zayne remains stone still, his thumbs rubbing circles in your hips as a silent encouragement.
“Caleb,” your cheek presses into Zayne’s collarbone, a line of spit falling from the corner of your lip, already pulsing with immeasurable pleasure that seeps into every movement, every word, every thought going through your head. Though right now? The only thing you can think of is the two men sandwiched above and below you.
“Almost there, honey.” He whispers, his hips moving so agonizingly slow. Compared to Zayne, he’s thicker, which makes the stretch more intense but never unwelcome. “We’ve gotcha.” The words, along with the massages from both men, soothe you enough for Caleb to press flush against your ass. “And there we go.”
“So… full…” Your throat tightens with a whimper, and your whole body thrums with a heat that is equal parts insatiable and fueled by Zayne and Caleb themselves.
The two men share a smirk. “Full of us,” Zayne corrects, his feet planting on the bed to prepare for the moment Caleb pulls out halfway before thrusting forward. “Ha– fu…” He gathers enough strength to pull out in opposite time to the younger man, fucking up into you when Caleb goes back, and vice versa.
The way they both satisfy you—with Caleb’s girth that stretches you and pushes on all the sensitive spots along your walls and Zayne’s length that curves right against your G-spot and flashes stars along your closed eyelids—is nothing short of perfection. It’s all you’ve ever needed and wanted at the same time; your two boyfriends together inside you to make sure neither is left out while you get double the intense heat in your veins.
Zayne and Caleb groan in unison when your pussy clenches around them, their cocks grinding against each other’s while the tightness of your walls traps them together. Below you, the combined arousal and sweat drips from where you’re connected, white rings frothing around both of their cocks.
“Fu–”
“God, darling…”
“Oh my fuck.”
Their voices wash over you, diving beneath the overwhelming pleasure and hitting something deeper inside. It’s the most intimate thing you can do, having sex with someone, but knowing Zayne and Caleb love each other as much as they love you makes it so much better.
“I’m already–” your warning is cut off when Zayne shifts his hips just right so his pubic bone passes over your clit. Tightening around the two men, they pause for a split second at the grip before resuming. Sweat pools on their brows, and your mouth falls open in a silent scream as your orgasm quickly approaches.
“Come on, honey… Let go,” Caleb prompts you between groans, his teeth digging into your shoulder as he fights off his own release. It’s an unspoken thing in your relationship that you always come first.
The heat that flows through your veins bursts in a white hot lightning strike, your body twitching and jerking in their grasp as your orgasm crashes into you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, nails digging into Zayne’s upper arms, and pussy clamping down on your boyfriends.
Caleb is the next to go, his hips stuttering before pushing all the way flush against your ass and filling you with each twitch of his cock. His release is over before you’re finished with the aftershocks, and as Zayne throbs against his boyfriend’s length, he lets go as well.
Cum drips out from around their cocks, and it’s not until their softening lengths slip from your hole that you whine from the emptiness.
“Look at you, honey.” Caleb whistles, his muscles weakened from exertion, but his stamina is no joke. He’s still able to tease even when you’ve milked him for nearly all he has. “So messy for us.”
His hands massage your back as you lie limply on Zayne’s chest. “Relax for a second, and then we can take a shower to clean ya’ up.”
“How about a minute?” You mumble, nuzzling your face against Zayne’s beating heart.
The man below you laughs, and you feel it more than hear it. “Fine, two minutes.” Caleb moves to lie beside Zayne, his hand still tracing the curve of your spine. “But after we’re definitely changing the sheets and cleaning up.”
With a smile, you reach out to rub Caleb’s bicep, your eyes closed and heartbeat syncing with theirs.
·······•✦ description: When it happens once, it's odd. Something you don't think much of because it's so fleeting that by the time you meet Sylus' eyes, it's gone again. But when it happens a second... and a third... There's an inexplicable pull towards moments with Sylus that have absolutely happened before, even if you don't remember them in these exact circumstances.
A trip to a field of flowers brings it all crashing down. He had horns, and a tail, and wings.
·······•✦ pairing: sylus x afab!reader
·······•✦ word count: 9.4k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Brief Luke and Kieran appearance, Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, Light Angst, MC remembers the past with Dragon!Sylus, Birthday, Flowers, Slow Dancing, Secret Relationship, Deja Vu, Memory Related, Nostalgia, Cunnilingus, Grinding, Multiple Orgasms, Eye Contact, Body Worship, Missionary Position, Creampie, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Nicknames - sweetie/kitten, No use of y/n, POV Second Person
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
The first time it happens, you’re at Sylus’ penthouse.
“Come on in, Boss Lady!” Luke dramatically swipes his arm, allowing you entrance into Sylus’ humble abode.
“Are you Sylus’ doorman now?” You joke, stepping into the dimly lit living space. There are remnants of you throughout it, but there are still tiny troves of displays. It’s nothing compared to the hoard of treasures he has elsewhere, but this feels very lively; it’s the combination of both of you.
Luke chuckles, closing the door behind you. “I just like greeting Boss Man’s favorite person when she comes in.”
You respond with a laugh, your eyes following around the penthouse to find where Sylus is. Most of the time, he would be at the door waiting on you like a lost puppy, though he would never admit it.
“Speaking of boss man,” you look over to Luke, suddenly seeing another head poking out from behind his shoulder. “Where is he?”
Kieran waves to you, his chipper steps making you think that he’s smiling really wide behind his mask. He walks to Luke’s side, leaning against his twin with crossed arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know…” There’s a hint of tease in his voice, and a chuckle follows. “He’s in the record room.”
With a nod of thanks, you accept their offer for fistbumps, your head shaking as you make your way to the record room.
The soft melody of a slow song seeps through the closed door, and your cheeks burn as you remember this is one of the first songs you listened to when you visited him for the first time. When you saw it, he said he didn’t have much need to play them, only when he felt the overwhelming urge.
Perhaps today is one of those days.
Your hand pushes the door open slightly, catching sight of Sylus in a black button-up and a red velvet suit jacket. Only by seeing his back do you trace your eyes down to his still finely pressed and jet black slacks, as well as his polished dress shoes. He’s just standing there, letting the music wash over him as if he were some critic listening to someone’s newest piece.
“Would you like to take a picture, sweetie?” His voice comes from his turned figure, and you can hear the smile on his face.
It isn’t uncommon for him to know you are in his presence without ever seeing or hearing you. Maybe he is just that intuitive.
“You always know when I’m close, don’t you?” Fully stepping into the room, he turns to face you.
His eyes immediately soften, taking in your outfit. They rake down your body, not an inch of you left untouched by his gaze.
“Of course.” Sylus holds out a hand, an eyebrow raised in silent question. He has always seemed so attuned to you despite having only dated for less than a year. Like your souls have always found each other.
Taking his hand, you allow him to pull you closer, goosebumps rising on your skin when he brushes fingertips along the small of your back. Your shirt easily gives way to his hand, and you’re even more vulnerable under his crimson gaze.
Your perfume wafts around him, and the scent relaxes him. He takes a breath, seemingly lost in it, and your heart clenches as he buries his face in your shoulder.
Weird.
The way his lips trail up to your ear, or even the light touch across your body that is cautious yet warning… It makes something inside you stir.
The feeling is gone right as his hands settle on your waist.
With the music playing in the background, Sylus hums along. There’s a smirk on his lips when he pulls back to look into your eyes. In the hue is the same woman he’s always loved, since the beginning of time.
“I quite like you in one of your casual outfits.” His cheeks color pink when you rest your hands on his shoulders. “Or your Hunter’s outfit… How scandalous would it be for the big bad boss of Onychinus to be seen with a certain Miss Hunter?”
The tone of his voice gives off the tease, and you chuckle. “If I wore my Hunter’s outfit here, I would be swarmed with criminals ready to kidnap me for ransom from the Association.”
You don’t know how you ended up swaying to the rhythm.
As the next song plays, it feels like a school dance, but there is no hint of awkwardness. It's almost like you’ve been doing this for eons; the way your bodies move so in sync. Around and around the room, he guides you, yet not with the urgency of anything important. Right now, all that matters is you.
“They wouldn’t have to deal with the Association.” He mumbles, slightly shaking his head as he looks down at you. “They would have to deal with me first. No one hurts the one I love.”
The deep timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. For a few moments, nothing but the soft melody of the song rings through the room. His movements are smooth, as if he wishes to show you around the world with such grace and poise as he shows now.
“How do you know that you’ll get to me first?” His hands are warm, settling just on the curve of your waist. It’s not invasive, but rather a gentle reminder that he’s there and won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.
Sylus laughs, a genuine laugh, while he tugs you just a bit closer. A few strands of his white hair fall across his forehead as he dips his head low. “You underestimate my abilities, kitten.” His breath fans across your face, and he stares at you with soft eyes. “I know everything that goes on in the N109 Zone… Plus, Mephisto would have been able to track them wherever they were, and I would have handled them easily.”
The serious tone of his voice sends a shiver through you. He seems so determined, so steadfast in protecting you. “Though I know you could take them as well.” He mumbles, his thumb gliding across your hip bone. “You’re so strong. You wouldn’t need me.”
“You could return to my penthouse just in time for our planned dinner.” His expression is full of mirth. “Home before I could finish setting the table.”
Rolling your eyes, your hand drifts to cup his jaw. He knows you can handle yourself, that you are a skilled fighter, and that you can weasel your way out of any situation… But he also wants you to know that he will be by your side in a heartbeat to ensure everything is okay.
The simple melody flows through you, and there is something tinged in it… You can’t place your finger on it, but the slow organ that drones on in the background is unmistakable.
Sylus twirls you around, letting you turn yourself before bringing you flush against him again. Your laughter fans out across his chest, the open neckline flashing his honey-toned skin.
“Did you invite me here just to dance?” You ask, your palms right above his collarbones as he kisses your forehead.
A memory… It’s something you don’t remember, but you do.
He’s kissed your forehead before. Surely he has. But the image in your head is garbled. It’s like puzzle pieces that float around.
Horns.
A tail.
The visions are confusing, like they happened, but you also don’t fully connect them. Something about Sylus… You and Sylus… But your memories only go back not long, when you met in the N109 Zone and everything changed.
There’s a field of flowers.
But you’ve never gone to a field of flowers with Sylus.
It seems like your déjà vu lasts a few minutes, but in reality, only a second later, Sylus pulls his lips away. He looks down at you, almost like he is expecting something to come from your slightly open mouth. But you don’t.
“Not at all,” he hums along to the music, his breath hitting your forehead and brushing some of your hair away. “I’ll be cooking for tonight, just the food you like.” His whisper is deep, intimate, even. It’s like he’s trying to coax something out, but not pushing or prying.
“Spicy hot pot with your signature sauce?” The weird feeling flies out the window at the mention of food. It’s like your attention has been stolen, and the fleeting memory that both does and doesn’t feel like your own stops in its tracks.
“Mhm.” He nods. “No work phone, no calls. Just us, a nice dinner, and a fireplace to warm you up from your ride here.”
Then, in one swift motion, he sweeps you off your feet, both figuratively and literally. The stiff muscles in his chest flex as he carries you bridal style out of the record room. A song starts just as he sits you down onto the stool, and with the soft ambiance of the record playing in the background, you admire the wide expanse of his shoulders as he starts cooking one of your favorite dishes by him.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The second time it happens, it’s in the dark hours of the morning.
The sun has yet to peek its way out from behind the horizon, and already your alarm clock is blaring in your ear.
“Not yet.” You mumble, turning around and burying your face in Sylus’ bicep.
You can feel his chuckle, his hand coming up to run through your hair. He massages your scalp for a moment, staring down at you as he watches you struggle to open your half-lidded eyes.
“You said that ten minutes ago.” His reminder only pulls a groan from your lips, but you know he’s right. “If you go now, the work day will be over before you know it.”
As you hear the encouragement, you finally sit up. One of Sylus’ button-up shirts sits on your shoulders, draping down to brush the tops of your knees when you roll out of bed.
It’s almost infuriating how attractive he looks right now.
His back rests against your headboard, the covers sitting right under his navel to give you a peek at the waistband of his sweatpants and the small trail of hair leading under the blanket. With nothing on his top half, the deep lines of his abs are lit up by the moon, and you’re reminded of the strength he embodies and the gentleness that he shows to only you.
A pair of glasses sits perched on the end of his nose, and he stares at a laptop. The screen isn’t too bright—just enough to wake you up while you were deep in slumber—but he could still read the articles. On it were a few articles about Protocores and two reviews of a new restaurant in Linkon.
His research continued as you showered and did your morning routine. His attention was piqued when you walked back into your bedroom; a fluffy robe was the only thing on your person.
A few plushies sit at the end of your bed, right where your uniform of the day contrasts against the purple of your blanket. They stare at you, watching you move closer to pick up the hanger.
“Was the shower nice?” He asks, his eyes fixated on how your skin glistens with water and the light sheen of the lotion you applied.
“It would have been better with you in it, " you tease, scrunching your hair up to dry it off even more. After it is sufficiently dry and almost ready to be finished, you tug at the belt of your robe.
Sylus chuckles, but the noise is cut off when your body is exposed to him. “I’ll remember that next time.” He whispers, watching with intensity as you put on your undergarments.
Standing at the end of your bed, your hands sit on your hips. “What are you looking at?” The screen illuminates his face, and curiosity gets the better of you. If it’s a surprise, he’ll definitely let you know that it’s classified information and save it for the day he eventually stuns you with a new piece of jewelry for your collection or a gun to build.
“Some new Protocores for auction.” He shrugs, his eyes flickering up to yours before focusing on the curve of your hip and the breathtaking view that only he gets to have. “And a new restaurant is opening up soon. Maybe I’ll pick you up from work and surprise you with reservations when available to the public.”
“And risk them knowing I’m housing their most wanted criminal?” You hate calling Sylus a criminal. Yes, he’s done things that validate his wanted status, but he hasn’t done anything to garner the label of pure evil, as some Association members have granted to him.
Sylus shrugs. He appears to people in different forms, only showing his true self to you. In fact, no one truly knows his face. It’s just the name that he’s associated with… The name that he’s so viciously wanted by.
“You would be labeled a traitor.” He mumbles, almost like he’s remembering something. “And I would continue to be hunted for my reputation.”
It sounds familiar.
Even the way he lounges back, almost like he’s taking in the sights before him… It strikes something in you. Something like that night of dancing when he kissed your forehead.
“Yeah.” You nod, unable to say anything else as you slip on your uniform. When you’re finished, you look back at Sylus.
It strikes again.
“We would need a getaway,” Sylus speaks softly, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him use this tone of voice. Like he is remembering. “Some sanctuary for just the two of us. Maybe a cave, or an alcove in the mountains at the edge of Linkon.”
Mountain.
Your chest feels heavy, and a raised eyebrow meets your eyes. It’s like he’s waiting, his fingers paused on the keys of his laptop. Every ounce of his attention is on you, and just as you open your mouth to speak, a sudden wave of emotion rushes over you.
There’s something there.
Something just like that night.
It itches at the back of your brain, tingles in your arms in a sickening twist like a god up above is laughing at you.
But it doesn’t go anywhere.
It’s frustrating; this feeling of déjà vu has reappeared after an incident.
Something about a mountain… A mountain and Sylus. It’s right there, edging in your periphery like a child playing hide and seek. Just as you get closer, it cuts off your thoughts, forcing you to sigh and accept that whatever you need to think of or remember is not coming so easily.
“At least we’ll have each other.” You mumble, a shy smile on your lips as you try to shake the feeling.
A part of you doesn’t want to bring it up, because just the thought of a mountain, of a kiss on the forehead, brings a wretched pain in your chest. Maybe you don’t want to bring it up. Not yet.
“Of course. I’ll only leave when you cast me away.” He’s back to his normal teasing tone, his laptop closing with a soft click as the sun paints the sky a soft orange.
“I would never.” Your hand rests on your chest, acting like you're offended at just the implication. But it’s a way to divert from the déjà vu, to stop thinking about whatever thoughts and memories that want to surface but can’t. “How dare you imply that?”
You both share a chuckle, and your feet bring you over to the side of the bed he’s sitting on. A hand threads through Sylus’ white locks, feeling the soft strands and relishing in the moment's intimacy.
“You should get some sleep.” Sylus’ fingers trace the edge of your Hunter’s jacket. “Go ahead and use my bed. You know the code to lock the door.”
Sylus looks up at you, a gentle tug on your shirt bringing you down to connect your lips. It’s a soft kiss, one of parting and goodbyes. It says "see you later" while whispering a silent "I love you" against the seam of your mouth.
When you pull away, it’s only enough to brush your nose against his.
“Thank you.” He smiles, looking down at your plushies. “At least I’ll have company while you’re at work.”
You laugh, nails scratching at his scalp as you kiss him again, and again, and one final time. His warmth is unmatched, and you wish you could bury yourself in his arms for the rest of the day.
“They’ll be keeping an eye on you.” You whisper. “Making sure you behave-” Another kiss to his lips. “And get some rest.”
He always wanted to be with you at night, and while it was nice to fall asleep in his arms, it ended up with a jumble of sleep schedules. It meant that whenever he spent the night, he wouldn’t be able to sleep very well the previous day in the N109 Zone.
“As you wish, beautiful.” Sylus quirks an eyebrow, taking his glasses off and setting them on the nightstand. A clock sits there, indicating the impending sunrise and the start of your day.
“Text me when you get back to the N109 Zone.” He can fight. Hell, he’s the strongest man you know, with or without his Evol, but the worry of something happening to him still lingers in your head as you stand up.
While you straighten out your uniform, Sylus shifts under the blanket. It’s soft, with a gentle caress of fluff as he settles underneath. Your scent, the smell of your shampoo and your perfume, as well as the vase of hibiscus flowers he gifted to you just a few days ago. It all makes up who you are, and Sylus can spend eternity just basking in your presence.
“What if I want to stay here until you get off work?” He asks, his voice betraying a bit of a pout. Sylus is never one to sulk, but the image of him moving down to bury his large body under your covers is quite the sight.
Chuckling, you lean down to kiss him again, this gentle and freeing one. “Be my guest.” You mumble against his lips. After one more peck, you pat your pocket to make sure you have your work phone. “It’s nice to see the apartment slowly start to have pieces of you in it, and even better when I can come home to my giant boyfriend waiting on me.”
Just as you’re about to walk out of your bedroom door, Sylus says something, and he has the same melancholic tone to his voice.
“I’ll always wait on you, sweetie.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The third time it happens, it’s during the picnic for his birthday.
“So not even Luke and Kieran know your actual birthday?” You walk with him through the trees, seeing the maple leaves floating in the breeze. It’s quite a serene sight, and the wind is calm on the bare skin of your calves.
“They insist on celebrating it every day of April,” Sylus says, his fingers intertwined with yours as he lets you guide him to where you want to go. You’re determined, knowing precisely the right place to bring him to.
Your hum echoes through the forest, and eventually, you end up at the sight. It’s beautiful, and it goes beyond words when you see the glimmer in Sylus’ eye. He’s happy. Really and truly happy.
“At least you had them to celebrate, even if they didn’t know the exact date.” You pull him forward, eyes switching between his and the cake.
He takes in the sights. The beautiful scenery is nothing compared to how beautiful you look in the sunlight. It’s not high in the sky, the remnants of the day waving goodbye to make way for the moon, but the bright rays still reflect on your hair.
“But nothing will compare to celebrating it with you.” Sylus drops your hand when you pick up the cake. It’s something you made with love, and the warmth in his crimson eyes when he stares down at you is enough to be worth a million birthdays.
“You know, I’m glad you agreed to go on this date with me for your birthday.” You start, looking down at the cream cheese frosting. “Every facet of you is what makes up who you are. You’re strong, and resilient, and handsome.” He chuckles, his cheekbones dusting pink. “But my Sylus, the Sylus I love, is a part of you that only I get to see. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I can’t help it.”
Sylus leans down, blowing out the single candle on it before taking it from your hands. It sits on the table, and before you can say anything else, he’s sweeping you up in his arms and pulling you down into the grass.
“You’re allowed to be selfish, beautiful.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, turning on his side to get a good look at how your face shines in the sun. “Your greed is warranted, because I feel it too.”
A warm palm cups your cheek, holding you with a reverence that you’ve felt from Sylus before, but not with this intensity. “I feel greedy because the one person that makes me vulnerable is the only one I can show my true self to.” He whispers, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. “And sometimes, I want her all to myself.”
“But,” he raises an eyebrow, “she is just as strong as I, and just as resilient. Sometimes I think she doesn’t need me because of how amazing she is.” His thumb strokes your cheekbone, and you lean into his touch.
You’re in such close proximity that you rest your hand on his chest, right between the valley of his pecs. The rapid beating of his heart hits your palm, and you smile. “She will always want you, and I think that’s more important than needing someone.”
Sylus’ heart melts, his face softening even further into one of pure adoration and unbridled love for you. “I will always want her, as well.” He leans in closer, slotting your lips together into an intimate kiss that steals the breath from our lungs in one short exhale.
Under the shade of a maple tree, you enjoy the sweet taste of his tongue as it mingles with yours. There’s no undercurrent of expectation, but rather, the reminder that he will pour his everything into this, into you. The thought brings a wave of comfort, knowing that your own feelings aren’t taken for granted.
The languid kiss transports you to another world. One where you don’t have to worry about Sylus’ intimidating demeanor or the business that he deals with on the daily basis. It’s a world where you can be free under no other expectations but the ones that you set for your relationship.
A cave, perhaps one like he mentioned before.
When you pull away, you spot a maple leaf on his jacket. As you reach out to grab it, red and black tendrils wrap around it, making it float up in the air for a few seconds and rest just where your hand once was. Right in the middle of his chest.
Your giggle raises goosebumps on his biceps, and he responds with a breathy chuckle. It’s like playing with a lion cub, one just as ferocious as the adult lions.
Just as you can capture it, he flicks it away to the other side of him, teasing you even further when it floats right out of your reach.
Sitting up, you crawl into his lap, thighs bracketing either side of his hips as you reach once more, only for it to go back to his original spot on the side of his jacket. When you look at him, there’s an amused expression on his face, and his eyes shimmer with glee.
“You just did this, so I’ll sit in your lap.” You flatten your palms on his abdomen. Staring down at him, his fingers dance along the outside of your thighs. “Sneaky, sneaky Sylus.”
Soft pats echo on the hardened plane of his stomach, and you laugh at the twitch in his muscles from the unexpected attack. “Oh, the kitten has launched an attack of her own, then?” He muses, his eyes fixated on the playful smile you bear to him.
“Mhm,” you nod, continuing the playful pitter patter on his abdomen. Another round of laughter, and Sylus reaches up, his palm on the small of your back.
When he applies just a bit of pressure, you’re falling forward onto his chest. Your hands, that once sat on his abdomen, now rest just above his collarbones.
Then it rushes back.
This has happened before.
This image—sitting on his lap like this, lying in a field—but things were different. You were different, and Sylus was different.
With your body lying almost fully on top of his, you get another annoying instance of this déjà vu… The moment of remembrance that only comes from sitting in his lap in the middle of this field.
But there weren’t trees the last time. It was something else… Something.
The scent of his cologne wafts around you, and a sweet taste tickles your tongue as he kisses you. A lingering syrup taste fills your mouth, and you let yourself melt into his embrace.
The memory…
There were scales. And horns.
Everything was different—way more than it is right now. The only thing that you do know is that the same is the pose—sitting in his lap like this, lying down on top of him.
The faint smell of flowers wafts around you, but it’s too fleeting. You can’t grasp onto the memory even if you tried, and frustration fills you for just a moment.
“Your Sylus is the only Sylus I wish to be.” He whispers against your lips, diving back in to capture your attention. It seems like he wants to say more, but he settles for a subtle caress of your lower back.
It’s grounding in the midst of the chaos in your mind. This déjà vu feeling has happened three times now, and there must be something vital that you should know… Something you should remember…
But you just can’t.
Although there is a bit of solace in the warmth that surrounds you, his arms are safe. They’re secure. And they feel a lot like a home you once had.
“The park will be closing soon.” The realization brings a pout to your lips, but you’re close enough that Sylus just tugs you back down to kiss it off you. “I don’t want the day to end.”
“All good things come to an end, sweetie.” Sylus brushes your hair off your forehead, cupping your cheek with the most tender touch. “And we can always come back here next year.”
“And the year after that, and the year after that…” Your smile grows when you think about spending Sylus’ birthday with him, year after year. This is only the first of hopefully many birthdays you get to celebrate.
“Already planning that far ahead?” He chuckles, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. It’s like he’s memorizing the feeling of your skin beneath his hand, his eyes following to commit it all to memory. “That’s my girl.”
Sylus sits up, bringing you with him. “Now let’s go, beautiful.” He stands, and in one sweep, he’s pulling you up until you’re flush against his chest.
“You just wait here. I’ll clean everything up, and we can head back.” He brushes away a maple leaf that landed in your hair, and you watch with a smile as he starts to gather all of the things you brought for his birthday surprise.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
The last time it happened was during spring.
With the castle—Sylus’ recent purchase—looming in the distance, he leads you out to the most beautiful flower patch you’ve seen. A wall of mist obscures a bit of your vision, but as soon as you step through, you’re greeted with an exquisite sight.
It’s full of every type of flower imaginable in all different hues and colors. To some, it would look like a messy rainbow of unsorted colors with no rhyme or reason except to look rather unsightly. But to you, it’s a masterpiece of inhuman proportions, with large mountains off toward the horizon and hills that rise and dip around this clearing.
“It’s beautiful.” You whisper, holding onto Sylus’ hand and letting him guide you down the small path so you don’t step on any flowers.
“It is, isn’t it?” His voice is soft, but the deep timbre still sneaks in and settles in your heart. It’s like a balm on your soul; you never know why you feel so at peace with him.
After only a few more steps, you finally step into the large clearing, which doesn’t become obvious at first. It’s not until he stops in the middle of the large expanse of flowers that you see the enormous dragon skeleton nestled in the corner of the flowers.
In fact, the bones themselves have flowers of different types decorating it. From the large skull to the vertebrae, and the peak of a tail that is only obvious when you crane your neck to the side.
“Woah.” Your jaw drops slightly, and goosebumps flicker across your arms and legs. The dress you have on isn’t one of your everyday wardrobes, but it matched with Sylus’ open shirt and the princely appearance he put on, so of course, you were going to match him.
Sylus remains quiet, letting you take in the sight of it while also resting a warm palm on your lower back to let you know he’s still by your side. He takes in your expression, the way your eyes rake along the bones, and studies the flowers that bloom in patterns like a quilt. His smile, though you don’t see it, is full of melancholy and a hint of relief that he’s found his way back to you.
You want to say more, but the feeling of his eyes on you pulls you away from the skeleton. For a split second, you think back to the book he had about dragons, and his fascination for the creatures seems more like a project of some sort now.
“Is this why you brought me out here?” You ask, letting him pull you into his arms. His biceps flex under your fingers, and your attention drifts back to him.
Sylus shakes his head, his gaze flickering from the skeleton to you. “No. I wanted to show you the beautiful flowers, and this just happened to be here.”
It’s unbelievable that this wasn’t the sole focus, but his intentions are sometimes blurred. Sneaky glances and words that seem more important than he makes them appear in the moment… Gestures like the past few times that don’t seem intentional but spark up some semblance of déjà vu…
Before you can say anything, his laugh echoes through the flowers, and he slowly lowers himself to the ground, pulling you on top of him. It’s reminiscent of his birthday, and the familiar déjà vu peeks around the hidden corners of your mind.
Words are lost in your throat, but your eyes catch a perfectly blossomed hibiscus flower rooted right by the side of Sylus’ head. The beautiful petals sway in the wind, and as if on instinct, you reach over to pluck it from the ground.
Sylus follows your hand, watching you pick it from the soil and bring it to the side of his head. The stem sits perfectly behind his ear, taking him off guard. You’re doing everything you did before, and the memories not only rush back to him, but they hit you like a freight train.
“Sylus.” You whisper, your hand dropping from the flower and cupping his jaw. “Can I ask you something? It might sound wild.”
He rubs his hands along your sides, looking up at you with a sparkle in his eye. The wind picks up around you, carrying the scent of flowers that is so eerily familiar. You can’t deny it, the déjà vu that slaps you across the face just seeing him lying underneath you like this.
This déjà vu.
He had horns. He had wings. There were scales on his shoulders, chest, and arms…
The gem.
“I’m all up for wild.” He puts on a smile, but behind his eyes is the hint of something. Sylus knows you’re remembering, and the beating of his heart thumps hard against his rib cage.
There was a red gem, right where the chain now sits in the middle of his chest.
A shaky hand drifts from his jaw to where the gem would be, and an almost imperceptible shiver racks his body.
“Were we… Is this…” You try to start a sentence, but all you can manage is a weak. “Do you believe that people can be bound to each other?”
“I do,” Sylus whispers, almost too afraid to startle you.
The memories come back.
The alcove in the mountain. The hoard of treasure. Getting thrown into the abyss. Left for dead.
The dragon.
Sylus.
“Let’s just say we entered another world when we walked through that mist.” He mumbles, his throat catching just slightly as you stare down at him. The wind hits your face, but your vision is focused on Sylus. Just Sylus. “And if we want to be more specific, it’s a world with dragons.”
“So you know.” You say.
“And you remember.” He replies, his cheeks dusted pink.
You remember.
Him saying that makes everything click into place. Things are still fuzzy, details that you can’t fully connect float around in your consciousness, but you remember Sylus. The dragon who saved you. The dragon whom you taught how to love.
The dragon that left you.
“So we found each other again.” Your eyes don’t leave Sylus, but the pull of the skeleton looming in the corner of the clearing is there.
“We did.” Sylus nods, his voice barely audible.
Then, with a gentle push, Sylus rolls around until you’re the one lying in the flowers. His arms bracket your head, hovering over you like a predator that caught its prey, but he is the prey, caught in the trap that is the mesmerizing glimmer in your eyes.
Your hand whispers along his chest, tracing the silver chain. “The gem.”
Sylus shushes you, his own eyes a burning crimson. He looks down at you as if you are the sun, moon, and all his stars. His beginning and his end. His forever and always. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’m okay. I’m here. With you. Forever.”
A few more inches of space disappear between you, and his nose brushes yours. His breath is deep and labored, like he remembers the events of who knows how long ago.
“My dragon.” Your voice breaks, and there is pure and unbridled love in the melancholy of the déjà vu. It’s the same love you taught him all those years ago. It mingles with elation, striking up a conversation and merging into an emotion that overcomes the sadness. It’s relief.
The past is the past, but this right now is your future.
“Your dragon,” Sylus responds, lowering even further to kiss you. The affection that he learned is mimicked in all his movements, from the palm cupping your cheek to the hand holding your own against his chest. He is here, and he is not going anywhere.
It’s only after a few seconds of a slow kiss that you crave more. The greed… The same greed you felt manifests back in your heart, but it’s a greed for the man above you. You want him. All of him, and in every lifetime.
With a tilt of your head and your other hand tangling in the white locks of his hair, you deepen the kiss. You’re the first one to trace the seam of his lips with your tongue, tempting him into something more.
“So greedy.” He teases, a low groan swallowed by your mouth as he presses almost his entire body on top of yours.
“Always greedy for you.” You whisper, and he pulls back just enough to look deep into your eyes.
Your dragon is in there. He’s never left.
When your legs wrap around his waist, Sylus chuckles, his long fingers finding their way to the bare side of your thigh. His touch is needy, but also tentative. He doesn't want to push you too far, especially with this revelation, but if you give him the green light, he will dive in head first.
“Can we- go back- to the castle?” You ask between breaths, each kiss deeper than the last.
“Are you sure?” Sylus plants a kiss on your cheek, then one on your temple, then on your forehead. The forehead kiss… It makes your heart both speed up and stutter at the same time.
A nod answers him, but you find the voice in the back of your throat to verbalize it. “Positive.” The skin of his chest is smooth, and you can imagine a warm gem sitting there in the crevice. “I want you. Now.”
“Well,” Sylus stands, pulling you up with him. He is still for a moment, taking in the sight of you amongst the flowers. In the back of his mind, he is already planning another outing here. “Who am I to deny my lady?”
In one sweep, he’s picking you up with one arm, cradling your bottom, and your arms circle his neck to hold yourself there. His other arm swings at his side, as if carrying you was the easiest thing he’s ever done.
Sylus is quiet as he walks back to the castle, so it gives you the time to admire him. The sharp angle of his nose, the honey tone of his skin, the deep red of his eyes that are stuck straight forward. All of it is perfect. It’s all your dragon, minus the obvious horns, tail or scales.
Your fingers massage the back of his neck, the tension releasing off him in waves. It’s eons of weight that has rested on his shoulders, and with the knowledge of the past now in your mind as well, he can allow himself a second to relax.
“If you keep doing that, you’ll be in for a long night, kitten.” His words are punctuated with a groan, and he fights the urge to close his eyes and just enjoy your touch.
No, he has to get back to the castle.
The walk is long, especially the climb up all those stairs to a room with a large bed and a beautiful view of the landscape.
But you're not paying attention to all of that.
The first thing you do when he steps through the threshold is attach your lips to his neck. Open-mouthed kisses travel in a trail up to his pulse point, and Sylus’ arm under you shifts to part your thighs and wrap them around his waist.
With you clinging to him like a spider monkey, he cups your bottom, kneading the flesh of your ass in complete indulgence.
“Sylus.” You whimper, the poke of his erection straining the front of his slacks. “Bed, please.”
Your broken sentence is met with his lips crashing to yours. It's intense, but the slow intimacy of the moment creeps in with the way he climbs onto the bed, allowing your back to rest comfortably on the mattress.
“I love you.” He mumbles against your lips, and although he’s said it before, there’s something about right now, the disheveled hair and the wild gaze in his eyes, that means more than it ever has.
“I love you, too.” You whisper back, cupping his jaw and caressing his cheekbone with a touch dripping in reverence. “My dragon.”
Sylus bites his lip, his hips finding yours in a slow grind through the layers of clothing. He’s hungry and insatiable, but wants to savor the moment.
His hands slide up your thighs, under your dress, and touch the warm flesh of your hips. The fabric pools on your stomach, exposing the pretty lingerie that you wore. But while Sylus admires how beautiful you look, your fingers go from his jaw, down his neck, down his chest to toy with the button of his shirt. There isn’t much separating you from the garment being off, so it only takes a soft pop to push it off his shoulders.
“You had scales.” You mumble, your hands moving across the broad expanse of his shoulders, thinking about the harsh plates that once sat on his skin. Even back then, you didn’t regard him as a monster, but as something so intrinsically beautiful that you couldn’t fully comprehend it until you remembered.
“I did.” He whispers against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck and chest. After a second, in which he gets the nod from you to fully remove the dress, he lets you sit up just enough to tug the outfit off, discarding it to the side of the bed where his shirt sat.
As he dips his head down, kissing between the valley of your breasts, your fingers thread through his hair, remembering feeling something else besides the silky white strands. “And horns.” You close your eyes, the heat of his lips over your clothed nipple bringing a shiver to your spine.
“I did.” Sylus repeats, his hands stroking your sides before dipping behind you to unclasp your bra expertly. He sits up enough for you to let it trail down your arms and join the pile of clothes that is steadily growing.
His lips wrap around one of your nipples, the tip of his tongue flicking the sensitive nub while he kneads the soft flesh of both your breasts in his palm.
“Sy-lus.” You whimper, head falling back against the satin pillowcase as he laps and laves at the skin.
Sylus’ touch is reverent, like he’s taking his time worshipping all you were and all you will be. The days of his dragon form are long gone, as are yours, and in the present, you are the most crucial thing in his life.
“My beautiful girl.” The words spill out as more of a growl than anything, his hands staying on your breasts while his lips move down your stomach. His teeth tug at the waistband of your panties, and he watches you through his eyelashes as you hold onto his hair like it’s your last resort.
You arch your back into his lips, wanting all of him. He’s all encompassing, and you need him to fill every fibre of your being. With souls bound together like yours, there’s a deep-seated need to be with him. Except you fell in love with him even though you didn’t know about this.
Your soul knew his, and without the memory of the past, you still loved him like you did so long ago.
His large hands tug off your panties, and he keeps eye contact as he kisses along the insides of your thighs. Greed fills him, but watching you squirm just a bit is more satisfying. The hand in his hair tugs harder, but he just responds with a chuckle and a tightening grip on your thigh.
“Patience, beautiful.” He breathes, both of his hands holding your thighs that both fall open and clench around his head in two separate movements. “I’ll give you what you want… Just let me love you.”
The whispered plea makes you pause. The harsh stare you give him burns holes into the top of his head, watching him make a slick mess of your thighs and only send a rush of arousal to your already soaked folds.
Sylus takes a breath in, your scent filling his nose, and his hips involuntarily grind into the mattress. His eyes stay locked onto yours, and when he finally reaches where you want him, he takes a second to admire the sight of your parted lips and perky nipples. A haze of mist covers your eyes, half desire and half pure adoration.
The whimpered plea is lost on your tongue, just the heaving breath that you need to survive filling your lungs over and over.
“I know, sweetie.” He sighs, his nose nuzzling into the side of your thigh. “I’ll give you what you want.”
His tongue darts out, licking a long stripe from your entrance to the throbbing nub of your clit. Spit adds to the already sopping folds of your pussy, and it’s even more obscene when his thumbs spread you even further.
The first time his eyes leave yours, it’s to admire the sight in front of him. The throbbing bundle of nerves sitting above your fluttering hole. It’s a physical manifestation of your desires, and while his greed still makes a home in his heart, the need to give to you outweighs everything he’s ever known.
Like your breast, he wraps his lips around your clit, and your muscles tense with unbridled pleasure that shoots through your veins when he gives a harsh suck. At your simple moan, he smirks against your pussy, knowing exactly how to get you twitching.
One arm wraps around your waist, holding you in place as he laps at the bundle of nerves. His tongue is long, able to reach the entrance of your pussy while he messily makes out with your clit.
He’s feral, like a beast getting a taste of his favorite meal.
“Sy- oh my- fu-ck,” your mouth falls open as waves of white hot pleasure run through you. Each sloppy kiss pauses your heart but speeds it up all in the same beat, and the hand that isn’t around your waist reaches up to hold your hand.
It’s an innocent gesture, the way his fingers thread through yours and his warm palm is flat against your skin, but he doesn’t miss the twitch in your wrist when his tongue dips past the ring of your pussy. The fantastic feeling only heightens when you see how much he enjoys it.
His hips meet the mattress with each strangled whimper that you let out. It’s not enough to bring him to completion, but it's perfect to tempt his body closer and closer while edging himself with a masochistic pleasure.
Your climax is already fast approaching, and the overwhelming emotions of the revelation don’t help the desire that ebbs and flows with each subtle touch. Sylus knows your body, but your soul knows his.
Sucking in a deep breath, your nails lightly scratch at his scalp, and your other hand tightens the grip on his. With each rapid pump of your heart, your blood rushes around you, adding to the heated touch of your skin and the sheen of sweat that glistens there. “I’m- Sylus- I…” You gasp out, unable to warn him of anything more.
“Mhm…” He nods, his tongue delving deeper inside you while the tip of his nose stimulates your aching clit. The sharp point digs into the bundle of nerves, tightening the coil in your stomach with each tilt of his head and low grunt that leaves his very busy lips.
When Sylus closes his eyes, your body explodes in a white hot explosion. The way he is getting so much satisfaction from this, his thumb brushing along the side of your hand while he lets you grind against his face… It’s so hot; even in the depths of the waves that rush over your head, you can stutter out a high-pitched. “Sylus.”
His name sounds the prettiest coming from your lips.
“Good girl.” He whispers, placing one last innocent kiss to your clit before working his way back up your body.
Your hips twitch, nerve endings on edge with each touch of his fingers along the sides of your torso. Sylus’ lips make a trail, allowing you the minutes to enjoy the pleasure that washes over you while also admiring the beautiful furrow in your brow and the whining moans of his name that fall from your lips over and over.
“Let it out, beautiful.” He kisses the side of your neck, his hands making quick work of his pants and underwear while keeping his lips right next to your ear. “You’re so - ha - good for me.”
The scent is back when he buries his face into the crook of your neck. It’s the faint smell of flowers, and in the depths of your pleasure, you know it isn’t his cologne or your perfume. It isn’t the lingering remnants of the flower patch you were just lying in.
It’s Sylus’ soul.
His soul, that smells of the prettiest of flowers and blooms only with you.
“More.” You whimper, your hands gripping at his shoulders as he nips at your pulse point. All of him. Every single bit. You want it.
“As you wish.” He sighs, one hand threading his fingers through yours once again, pressing the joined union into the mattress beside your head. His other hand grips the base of his cock, dragging his tip between your already sensitive folds in a teasing manner, though it doesn’t last long.
“Sy-”
You’re cut off by one of his chuckles and the slow push of his cock inch by inch inside you. He’s thick, with the length to match, so he gives you ample time to adjust to him.
“So good.” He whispers, kissing your shoulder before pulling back to look into your eyes. “Look at me, beautiful.”
The command falls on deaf ears, and the overstimulation and just how good he feels make it hard to concentrate on anything else. It isn’t until his hand cups your chin, holding you still, that you meet his gaze.
There’s an undeniable softness in his eyes as he stares down at you, your hair splaying out over the pillow and back arching into him. Your expression is full of many things. Desire, adoration, pleasure, greed. But above all else, there’s a love that you hold only for Sylus, only for your dragon.
“I love you.” You whimper when his pelvis meets yours. He fills up every inch of you, grinding right against your G-spot with each slow roll of his hips.
He knows exactly how to move, his thumb brushing your soft bottom lip while listening to each and every gasp and moan you let out.
“I love you even more, sweetie.” His lips find the plane of your forehead, and even through the salty taste of sweat, he relishes in the warmth of your skin.
The first time he completely pulls out, you whine from the loss. You’re answered by an immediate thrust forward, and he fills you to the brim in a way that satisfies you repeatedly.
Each thrust pushes a whimper from your lips, and it’s impossible to speak actual words when he sets a torturously slow pace that steals the breath from your lungs. Every thought in your head is of him. Some of it is the past, but the majority is the future, and how excited you are to spend it with him.
Sylus doesn’t speed up his pace, keeping it slow and deep. When he sits flush against you, the head of his cock twitches against your sensitive spot, and it causes your hips to buck and grind in search of more.
But for once, he’s not feeding into your greed.
He’s keeping it at an intense intimacy that speeds up the beating of your heart while also making it skip a few beats. It’s the deep crimson of his eyes that hypnotizes you in seconds, lulling you deeper and deeper with him into the abyss.
“You feel s-o good,” Sylus groans against your lips, his sweat-slicked skin glistening in the sun that streamed through the curtains. “All f-or me.”
All you can do is nod and tighten your legs around his waist. With his chest pressing against yours, the coil that previously snapped is winding up again, but this time it’s with an increased ferocity.
You’re both chasing your pleasure, but not sacrificing the intense love and worship that you feel for each other. The grip you have on his hand tightens, the mattress soft under the weight of your intertwined fingers.
His cock twitches, and you cup the side of his jaw, holding him like he’s a statue in a museum. It’s one of awe and intimacy, staring deep into his eyes and seeing the faint connection between your souls. It’s one that crosses lifetimes, oceans, and galaxies.
“Inside?” Sylus grunts, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched in an attempt to hold back his orgasm. You have to come first.
“Pl-ease,” you nod frantically, tilting your hips up so the flat plane of his pelvis digs into the throbbing bundle of nerves just above where you’re connected. It provides enough relief for you to get closer and closer, your skin prickling with goosebumps and the muscles beneath your skin running taut.
The hand not clasped in yours settles on your lower abdomen, pressing down enough so you can feel the outline of his cockhead with each deep thrust. His palm is hot, and the fiendish qualities of him edge into existence with your remembrance.
“Come for me.” His forehead rests against yours, and he watches as you are thrown over the cliff into the depths.
Your body wants to twist and turn, but with Sylus’ weight on top of you, all you can do is buck your hips and arch your back against the muscular wall of his torso. He’s sturdy, holding you through each pulse of your pussy around him.
It feels so good that you don’t even register the twitching of his cock as he spills his load into your warm sex. Compared to your already elevated body heat, it’s warm, but you can’t think of anything else except how he holds you gently.
Even in the midst of his own pleasure, he watches you, and it doesn’t take long before he’s already come down from his high and you’re still going. It’s one thing that he loves: how slow your orgasm washes over you, and how he can watch you go through it in waves.
“Good girl.” He sits up, his nails lightly scratching your sides as you continue to buck and squirm under him. It’s lava that rushes with each beat of your heart, and your eyes close toward the end. It’s too much, overwhelming your senses and plunging you into darkness.
Sylus’ kiss to your forehead brings you out of the dark.
“You’re so beautiful.” He mumbles into your hair, turning you so he’s the one lying on the bed with you on top of him. His cock is still nestled inside you, softened from his intense orgasm, but plugging you up so only a small stream of his release escapes.
“I love you.” You repeat again, your cheek resting comfortably where his heart is. It’s a steady beat, like a metronome to a song. “Is that why you had that book on dragons?”
“I never wanted to push you to remember.” He whispers, his touch light along your spine. “But dragons have always fascinated me. I wanted to know what the perception of us was so many years later.”
You hum and bring your hand up to the other side of his chest. Small shapes are drawn into his skin, and he looks down at you with a soft smile. “I want the whole story.” It’s not a demand, but more of an ask for more information. “From your perspective.”
He tenses slightly, but at your touch, the beating of his heart steadies to a gentle thrum. “Alright, I can do that.”
“But first,” Sylus threads his fingers through your hair, massaging the back of your neck. “Let’s get some rest. I’m sure with everything that happened, you are exhausted.”
All you can do is nod and yawn, finally feeling the weight of everything settle on your shoulders. Sylus chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“I love you.” His words are spoken into your hair. “My dragon.”
·······•✦ description: With all your teasing during his art exhibition, once you're finally alone in an empty room, it doesn't make sense to just stop, especially when he looks so pretty while he begs...
·······•✦ pairing: sub!rafayel x dom!reader
·······•✦ word count: 2.6k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Established Relationship, Smut, Shameless Smut, Semi-Public Sex, Grinding, Teasing, Art Shows, Restraints, Belt used as a restraint, No Touching, Rafayel is a good boy, Begging, Pleading, Neck Kissing, Rough Kissing, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Praise Kink, POV Second Person, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert, Sub!Rafayel, Dom!MC
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
The click of the door shutting is followed by a sigh of relief.
After searching halls upon halls of just artwork, you were finally able to find an abandoned office room with no decorations besides a small painting of roses on the wall. It looks as if it hasn’t been used in some time, with the desk completely bare and entirely too inviting.
Leaning back against the desk, you beckon Rafayel closer. With it being his exhibition, he’s dressed in an elegant suit adorned with golden accents that only add to his handsome aura.
To some of the CEOs and buyers who are interested in his paintings, he’s cold and calculated, with just enough charisma to pull them in and the right amount of conviction to go in for the kill. It’s an art in and of itself, you think as you watch from the side.
However, even if he is a predator out on the exhibition floor, he isn’t immune to your lingering touches and whispered words of tease in his ear. Declarations of pure desire paired with a gentle massage in the crook of his elbow, and he can barely keep it together enough to beg you to help him release his tension.
“Beloved,” he whispers, stepping closer. Red flushes along the tips of his ears, and it spreads further onto his cheekbones when you reach to undo his belt. Hasty hands maneuver his hands behind him, the belt wrapping around his wrists and keeping him restrained from touching you.
“Please…” his head drops to your shoulder, turning so his lips brush your earlobe. “You’ve been teasing me all night.” Rafayel noses along the column of your neck, pressing open-mouth kisses to your skin until he reaches the shoulder of your dress. “You look absolutely stunning in this dress, too.”
When your hands sit on his hips, he hitches a breath. He’s so worked up, the front of his slacks bulging from his need. Trying to keep it concealed was a task, but in the confines of this private room, he could let himself go and dive into the depths of his soul.
“Thank you, baby.” Your gentle voice sends a shiver down him, warm pants fanning across your cleavage and collarbone as he struggles to keep it together. “But it’s just so fun teasing you. The way you get all flustered and red in the face.” His cheek is met by your palm, tilting his head up so his forehead is resting against yours.
“You’ve been a good boy,” you praise him, your lips mere inches from his as he all but leans his entire body weight on you. “Such a good boy.”
The first touch of your lips is electric, a heat that instantly overwhelms yet soothes at the same time. It’s like a wave that gently washes over your feet, starting at a low point and ebbing into something that has the potential of becoming uncontrollable.
Since his belt is already off, your fingers make quick work of his slacks, letting them fall to the ground in a heap around his ankles. His briefs are straining against his arousal, and his hips buck desperately when you pull back the waistband just to snap it against the soft V-line of his abdomen.
“Please.” He whimpers, his eyes hooded and a high flush on the apples of his cheeks. Lost in the haze of desire without a compass is what you would akin him to. “Please, beloved.”
The soft color of your eyes meets his purple irises, and a hint of a red glow peeks out from the collar of his shirt. “Excited?” You tease him, but there’s affection lining your words. The tips of your fingers pull your dress up to your hips, and another strangled whimper comes from your boyfriend’s throat.
“Yes… Yes, please.” He’s speaking to your actions, revealing all of your thighs and just the slightest bit of your stomach that pokes out from the edge of your panties. “So beautiful…” It’s said in more of a reverent tone, as if you were a goddess that had materialized in front of him.
The clinking of his belt buckle moves along with his wrists as he struggles to touch you. He can’t, at least not until you say so. Except with the desperate and almost puppy-like way he bats his eyelashes at you, his eyes needy and pleading for whatever you are willing to give him, it’s hard not to give in.
“Come here,” you beckon him closer, sitting back against the desk and letting your legs fall open. The only thing separating Rafayel from what he really wants is both his underwear and the thin lace of your panties. “Grind against me like a good boy.”
Rafayel mumbles something incoherent while nodding, and the muscles in his arms flex as his entire body nearly lies on yours. He instantly finds your lips in a desperate kiss, tongue flicking out against your bottom lip, but the liplock is immediately broken as his hips meet yours. The front of his briefs brushes against the thin fabric of your underwear, causing a shiver to run through his whole body.
“Fu– beloved…” His whines are swallowed by your lips, capturing him over and over as he desperately ruts against you as if he were in heat. With his hands behind his back, all he can do is use the muscles of his hips to his advantage in brushing his clothed length along the wet spot of your panties. “Please… Can I touch you?”
Your hum echoes in his mouth, his eyes hazy with need as he bucks and grinds against you. The sound of the buckle clinking comes to your attention, but you shake your head. “Not yet,” you whisper, your hands roaming the sides of his torso before dipping into the waistband of his underwear. “I want you to use those hips, baby.”
As you push down his briefs, the raging red tip of his cock already glistening with arousal bobs in the air. Your hand wraps around him, finding a torturous rhythm with slow, lazy strokes. His mouth falls open just enough to see the way his tongue rolls from his lips, and his eyebrows furrow as he fights the urge to buck into your hand. You haven’t given him permission yet.
“Such a pretty boy for me.” You purr. The twitch of his cock is subtle but you feel it, and he practically melts. His face falls to your shoulder, his tongue dipping out to taste the light sheen of sweat while also inhaling your scent.
When your thumb swipes across his tip, a loud whimper hits your ear, and his teeth nip at your skin. He tries to speak, but it’s a mix of words and sounds that you can’t make out while you quicken your strokes.
“That’s what you are, Raf.” You turn your head to kiss his neck before tilting to the side to allow him better access. “My pretty boy. Right?”
“Y–hng–fu–eah,” he nods, his nose brushing along the junction of your neck and shoulder as he steps closer. The tip of his length brushes your panties, and with your other hand, you push your panties to the side.
The first contact of his cock against your wet folds pulls a moan from both of you. The accumulation of all the teasing of the night, all leading up to the pertinent desire dripping from your actions.
His slick arousal mixes with your own, dripping from his tip and sliding from your clit to your fluttering entrance. With his forehead digging into your shoulder, he watches with hooded eyes as you guide him up and down, your folds wrapping him in velvety wetness that he can’t compare to anything except pure heaven.
“Please. I need you, beloved.” His pleas are answered with your legs wrapping around his waist, and as he sinks inch by inch into your warm sex, he forces himself to take small breaths. It’s overwhelming, your scent mixed with the taste of your skin and the feeling of your warmth. Not to mention the soft gasps that fall from your perfect lips and the desire that swims in your eyes.
“Good boy.” You coo into his ear, your whole body shuddering when he finally bottoms out. His pelvis is flush against yours, which gives you a better angle to wrap your arms around his body and unbuckle the belt from his wrists.
With his hands finally freed, he palms your waist. There’s a reverence in his touch paired with the sparkle in his eyes as he blinks slowly, taking in the radiance of your beauty under the dim lighting of the empty office.
The desk is flat against your ass, but Rafayel has one hand on your back, making sure you don’t fall too far. “Can I move?” He rubs against your skin, his other hand dancing up and down the side of your torso before landing on the flesh of your thigh.
It gives under his fingers as his grip tightens, and when you nod, he sits back just enough to meet your gaze. It’s intense, the heat that dances in the mix of blues and pinks around his pupil, but it only grows when he begins the deep grinding of his pelvis against yours.
The flat of his pubic bone stimulates the throbbing bundle of nerves under the hood of your clit, and the curve of his cock finds every little spot inside you that has stars already beginning to dance across your vision. It’s addictive.
“Rafayel…” You moan, wrapping your arms around his neck as one hand runs through the hair at the back of his skull. The gentle massage only spurs him on, pulling back all the way until the head of his cock sits just inside the entrance of your throbbing walls.
A high-pitched groan comes when he suddenly thrusts forward, his pace picking up exponentially as he chases both yours and his highs. The heat of his hand rests on your back, and your nose touches his with each slap of his pelvis against yours.
“So beautiful.” He whispers, kissing you quickly before delving into whimpers once more. “My beloved.”
The collar of his dress shirt becomes damp with sweat, his breaths coming out in a mix of puffs and grunts that devolve into strangled whimpers when he feels the way you clench around him. Your walls, pulsing with each drag of his cock, clamp down in an attempt to keep him buried within you. It seems as though your body craves him just as your heart and mind do.
“Are you – ah – already close?” You try to sound teasing, but your words are cut off by each thrust, your body responding to his cock by adding even more slick. It froths around him, forming a small ring around the base of his shaft that only serves to make everything even wetter and stickier.
“Can’t – hm help i–t.” He rests his forehead against yours. “You feel s–o so good.”
The silence makes way to just the wet slapping of his balls on your ass and the noises that echo from both of your lips. The way with which he holds you, as if he wants to just keep you under him at all times, sends heat through your veins.
The coil in your abdomen tightens, and the muscles in your legs flex as his nails make small indents in your skin. The stretch around his cock is delicious, sending shockwaves of electricity into each of your nerves when his hips begin to stutter in their pace.
“Please.” Rafayel starts, his desperate moans coming between kisses. “Can I c–cum inside you?”
For a moment, you can’t speak. The breath is stolen from your lungs as the tip of his cock brushed against your g-spot with each harsh slap of his hips against yours. His pleas come again and again, repeating it as if you need to hear it multiple times to really grasp what he is saying.
“You want to?” You manage, your eyes meeting his. The hand on your back traces up your spine until it curls at the base of your neck, holding you still so he can both anchor you on his cock and force your eyes to stay on him. “Wanna cum in–side me like a g–good boy?”
Rafayel nods again, begging with that pretty tone of his as he feels the way your thighs lock around his hips. He can feel everything. The tightness of your pussy, the jump of your muscles, the pulsing of your walls as he reaches depths inside you that your own fingers could never reach.
“Please…” He begs. “Please, please, please.” Blinking quickly, his eyes meet yours. “Can I p–please cum inside you?” After a deep breath, he doesn’t give you a chance to answer, continuing his words. “You’ll look so s–o pretty with my cum dripp–ing from your p–retty pussy.”
The lewd nature of his begging sends your heart into overdrive, beating with an intense motion that you’re sure Rafayel can feel through the bond that glows a soft red beneath his button-up shirt.
“Go ahead. Be a good boy – ah and cum inside m–e.” You pant, pushing the hair back from his forehead to see the slight wrinkles forming just from him trying to keep it together.
Your own high is fast approaching, and as his palm flattens across your lower abdomen, thumb finding your clit and hand pressing down to feel his cock inside you, you can’t do anything else except moan.
It crashes down on you before you can warn him, your body twisting and turning in his grasp as he tries to keep you flat on the desk. God forbid you fall off and he has to get himself together lest they come looking for the source of the sound.
“Got you.” He whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he soothes you through the shocks of your orgasm.
The way you clench around him pushes him over the edge. The tides of his pleasure peak when he buries himself to the hilt. Quick twitches of his cock send spurts of his release deep inside you.
The hard surface of the desk traps you between it and Rafayel’s overheated body. The only thing you can focus on is your own orgasm, tensing every muscle in your body and causing your heart to reach a peak that almost has your chest aching in a good way. Your lungs fill and deflate with each electric shock, and your hips fight against his thumb that lazily strokes you through the remnants of your release.
His pants are the only thing you hear as he buries his head in your shoulder, and his hands cradle you close to him as if you would disappear if he let go.
“Woah.” He whispers, his fingers cupping the nape of your neck as he presses soft kisses to your skin. “Thank you.”
You hum, letting him nuzzle into your warmth as the glowing mark on his chest pulses with each beat of his heart. Being connected like this is your favorite thing, feeling the way he throbs and twitches inside you as you bask in the afterglow.
“We should get back to your exhibition.” Your legs give out, but Rafayel holds you firm against him, not wanting to pull out just yet.
“Not yet.” He whines, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout, when he pulls back to look at you. “I wanna stay right here for a little longer… And then I wanna go straight home.”
You chuckle, kissing his cheeks quickly before cupping his jaw. When you look down, you laugh once more. “Well, I guess you’re right. You’ve ruined my panties for the night.” The tips of his ears turn red, but he remains where he is, massaging your hip while staring into your eyes.
“We’ll stay here for a bit. Since you’ve been a good boy.”
·······•✦ description: After going out for a bit to get ingredients for the night's dinner, Zayne is pleasantly surprised to find you in the kitchen making juice. However, it's not really what he's craving.
·······•✦ pairing: GoA!Zayne x Goddess!MC
·······•✦ word count: 2.5k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Smut, Shameless Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Cunnilingus, munch Zayne strikes again, Grinding, Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Hand & Finger Kink, Based off his Myth four star, Teasing, Wet & Messy, in the kitchen, POV Second Person, No Use of Y/N for Reader-Insert
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
“You’re making a fruit drink?” A hushed whisper rocks through the kitchen, long black hair peeking out before his golden-green eyes meet your own. After going out to retrieve special ingredients for that night’s dinner, Zayne found himself following the sweet aroma of various fruits. They all mix in his nose, the sugar drawing him closer like a moth to flame. But as he notices you with a simple robe and your glittering gold jewelry, he’s suddenly not so interested in a refreshment.
The ruined surprise doesn’t tamper with your smile. “For you.” Holding a grape up to his mouth as he drifts closer, his lips catch the side of your finger. He’s warm, a hearth for you to come back to every night after dinner.
A muscle in his jaw clenches while chewing, hands set at his sides as he steps up beside you. The side of his arm brushes yours, so warm and welcoming that you are tempted to step into his chest and hug him close.
The fantasies are broken when he tips the cup up to his lips, sipping the drink and pausing as if judging its quality. “It’s sweet.” The straightforward words are followed by his arms wrapping around you, cup forgotten in favor of grabbing a separate cup and grinder. “Let’s make some more. This way, you may try it as well.”
Caged between his firm chest and the counter, you watch as he brings the same fruits you used into the cup. “I’ll do it,” you try to insist, grabbing the stone grinder and doing the same repeated motions you used to make his drink.
“A god can’t do these things?” You shake your head. “Why not?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice, head dipping down to ghost his lips along the shell of your ear.
A slight shrug tugs at your shoulder. “I like doing things for you.” You don’t get distracted by his teasing kisses. “So let me do this one thing.” The insistence silences him for a quick second, so fleeting that you barely register the lack of noise.
“A gentle touch barely scratches the surface…” Suddenly, it doesn’t feel as if he’s speaking about the juice anymore, one hand curving at your waist while the other guides your movements into something harsher. “It should be like this.”
Heat builds between you, his attention no longer on the juice but on kissing every part of your body he can reach. Your ear, your neck, your shoulder. He cranes his head to brush his lips along the edge of your jaw, a teasing chuckle slipping when you gasp.
“Do you feel it?” He mumbles against your skin.
You nod. “Words.” The command nearly sets your heat ablaze, hands shaking just enough to clink the grinder against the glass.
There’s more than just the pressure of grinding the fruits. It’s his warmth. His strength. His hips holding you still. Even the soft poke of something against the curve of your behind. “Yes, I do.” The whisper is stopped by Zayne setting the glass to the side, his fingertips dancing up your arm until he’s caressing the bare skin of your shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Do you want to taste another flavor?” The question lingers for a moment, and before you can answer, he continues. “If you want a richer sweetness, then we can add more date juice.”
The offer is appealing, but once again, as he fills the glass with date juice, it’s more intimate when the rim brushes against your bottom lip. “Try it.” He prompts, an eyebrow raised while craning his neck to the side to look at you. “Open your mouth.”
As the liquid fills your mouth, you swallow it all. The smile that follows is teasing and bright. “It tastes just like you, Zayne.” The purr in your voice sends a shiver down his spine, but he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he just smirks.
“Oh, it tastes just like me?” The tone of his voice heats your insides, your fingers tightening on the kitchen counter as if it were some sort of anchor to the real world. “Is it similar to the drink you made?” His lips brush your ear, nose barely bumping your temple before he lets his gaze wander to your mouth. “Or is it more like the flavor you tasted?”
Your head falls back to his shoulder, back molding completely to his chest. Each beat of his heart adds to the warmth surrounding you, filling you with an insatiable fire that is spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes.
“I can’t really tell…” With your eyes closed, you can feel every minuscule movement of his hand on your hip and the other setting the glass back to the side just to settle on the other side of your waist. “This method isn’t working. I think I need another taste.”
“You can’t tell,” he chuckles, but there’s no humor in his eyes as he sees a drop of date juice shining on your bottom lip. The tip of his thumb brushes it away, lingering there for a moment.
“Even if I had obtained more flavors, they would be on my body…” His hand falls down your front, between the valley of your breasts, before flattening on your stomach. It’s enough pressure to hold you flush against him, feeling his arousal through your clothes. “Not my tongue.”
Closing the short distance, you dare peck his cheek, right near the corner of his mouth. Almost a kiss but not quite, teasing the line while allowing yourself some reprieve from the stirring heat in your stomach.
A palm cupping your breasts pulls a gasp from you, and when Zayne speaks again, it’s in the small gap between your mouths. “It’s not just the corner of my mouth.” A few gentle squeezes, his thumb teasing your perky nipple through your cloth. “What’s on my hands is stronger.”
His palm holds your chin, eyes boring deep into yours, and mesmerizing you at the depth. The tip of his index finger taps your lower lip. “From my palm to my fingertips.” You’ve lost the ability to speak, eyes locked on his as he traces the seam of your lips.
“Do you want to try again?”
Nodding, you open your mouth, allowing his thumb to slip in and press on your tongue. It’s not harsh; only testing the waters while his other hand slips under the hem of your skirt. The tip of his finger traces the seam of your pussy through your panties, the wetness gathering on the fabric in a way that has you whimpering around his thumb.
“Enjoying the taste?” He asks, his lips chasing wet kisses down the column of your neck before reaching your shoulder. “I quite,” kiss, “like,” kiss, “this taste.” The salt of sweat on your skin adds to the sweetness of the juice still lingering on his tongue.
“Mmmph,” the words are dampened by the pad of his thumb, sounding something like ‘I like it’ but now just a jumble of saliva and broken syllables lost in translation. Salt from his skin comes when you wrap your lips around the digit, a whimper vibrating through your chest when your panties are pushed to the side, and his finger collects some of your wetness.
Zayne hums, his teeth nipping at the junction of your neck and shoulder. The way his body is hunched over yours, the lean muscle of his abdomen flexing against your back, has you bending over in turn. Your hands flatten against the kitchen counter, arms twitching as he circles your fluttering entrance with his middle finger.
As soon as he slips into the knuckle, you moan around his thumb, eyes closing and neck going nearly limp at the rush.
Then, another starts the delicious stretch, the ring of muscle clenching so hard around his fingers that your knees begin to shake. Luckily, Zayne is there to hold you tight against him, his tongue trailing a line of glistening spit up to right below your ear.
“Clenching so tight around me,” the raspiness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Feels good?”
“Mhm,” another muffled affirmation, the curl of his digits hitting that sensitive spot inside you that sparks flashes behind your closed eyes. “S’good.” You manage before another moan, your hands shifting.
The sound of breaking glass causes your eyes to shoot open, seeing the juice and glass strewn in pieces on the floor. It’s impossible to turn your head toward the mess with Zayne’s thumb still hooked into your mouth, holding you still while his fingers continue their slow pumps.
“Don’t bother.” He mumbles against your neck, the loud smacking of his lips overpowering your thoughts. “You’re close already, huh?” You nod, eyes rolling in the back of your head as your knees knock together. “I know… I can feel you clenching around my fingers.”
The heat builds in your abdomen, and the added sensation of his lips, his fingers, his hips flush against your ass, and the hardness grinding like you’re all he needs. It’s getting closer and closer and closer, your muscles tight and heart pounding in your ears.
Until his fingers suddenly leave you with an aching emptiness.
Before you can whine in protest, he turns you around, his two fingers glistening with your arousal. The digits slip into his mouth, his tongue lapping up every bit of you he can get.
His golden-green eyes shine, a low groan coming from his mouth, while his other hand grips your hip. It isn’t until he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue as it tangles with yours, that your thighs rub together and you whine into his mouth.
“I’m the same way,” hoisting you up onto the counter, he slots himself between your parted thighs. “When I find a flavor I like, I concentrate on savoring it.”
With a tender gentleness that is ever-present in his touches, he lays you down on the counter, your legs dangling off the edge for him to rest on his shoulders as he kneels before you. Only his head is visible, his hands flipping your skirt up and removing your panties because fuck it’s the only thing between him and what he’s craving.
“Sweetness comes in a variety of forms,” he says, kissing the inside of your thigh, close to the apex but not where you need him. Palms spread you for him, eyes focusing on your throbbing clit and wet folds.
When he speaks again, the puff of air against your pussy shocks your nerves, your fingers threading through his hair.
“But my favorite is right in front of me.” He whispers, his lips wrapping around your clit and slurping like you’re the nectar of his Eden. Words aren’t needed, not even the utterance of his name comes until his tongue dips in your tight hole.
“Zayne!” The hard counter doesn’t hurt as much when your head falls back against it, not when the warmth of his tongue and the point of his nose rubs into your sensitive bud with increased intensity. “Zayne- please…”
Your pleas fall on deaf ears—mainly because your thighs are so close to his head that the only thing he can concentrate on is the thump of your heart through your skin. Each beat signifies another beat for him, just as every beat of his heart is another beat for you. All for you.
The flat of his tongue starts at your pussy, dragging all the way up to flick your clit and watch in amusement at your hand muscles tensing at the edge of the counter. If you could grab him with both hands and ride him how you really wish, it would be a dream come true. However, being at the mercy of Zayne, the god between your thighs, it’s a rush of adrenaline that rivals the best alcohol.
“So,” slurp, “sweet.” Not a drop of your arousal hits the hard surface, especially not when your elixir is so addictive that Zayne finds himself craving you night and day. Humans be damned, when the goddess beneath him is the best flavor in the universe.
“Z-ha-Zayne,” your voice shakes, thighs nearly crushing his head as pleasure fills every crevice in your body, like he’s carved a road right to your heart that only he can walk on.
The lack of any other word coming from your beautiful lips has Zayne’s cock aching in his clothes, because to him, nothing is more perfect than his name in your sweet voice. It’s the realization that he’s the one who makes you feel this way, bringing you to the edge of euphoria and cradling you close as you crash over the edge. Nothing is more satisfying.
So when your nails dig into his scalp, the breath stutters in your lungs, he works faster. The deep curling of his tongue against your walls, paired with the bridge of his nose rubbing your clit allows his hands to steady your hips, holding you still for him to indulge.
The shackles that bind your heart break free, a wave of white crashing over you like a ceremonial sheet covering your limp body. Even you don’t know that your hips were trying to squirm away, thighs tight on his head like earmuffs, and throat getting raw from the whimpers and borderline screams that almost rip your vocal cords.
“Good girl,” he speaks in rushed syllables, not wanting to part from your sweet pussy just yet. Not when you’re still riding out the aftershocks with small moans of his name and locks of his dark hair through your fingers. “Keep going.”
So you do.
Until Zayne is pulling away with a smirk, kneading your hips with gentle touches while continuing to kiss the insides of your thighs. “You did so well for me.” His voice is hoarse, like he spent hours screaming to the heavens in thanks. Thanking other gods for blessing him with you, for allowing him to worship you in this way.
“Are you okay?” When he stands, your legs fall limp off the counter, body slick with sweat, and mouth still open in an attempt to gulp any bit of air you can get.
“Very okay… Very okay.” Your reassurance curls Zayne’s lips into a smile.
“Good,” he hums, and you’re so satiated that you don’t register him picking you up bridal style, carrying you like a husband would over the threshold of your shared bedroom.
The plush mattress cushions your back, and cold air bites at your skin until softer clothes cover you—something easier to sleep in, but covered in his scent. Immediately, you curl up, a smile on your lips at the warmth and comfort just his smell brings. It’s nothing comparable to his hand massaging the back of your neck, releasing all the tension there. His touch is healing, reaching into your depths to mend the cracks and crevices you find yourself with.
“Take a nap.” His lips find your forehead—already cleaned from your release. “When you wake up, I’ll make us some juice.” Despite your eyes being closed, his smile can be heard in his following words. “Properly, this time.”
·······•✦ description: Your dress getting stuck after a long performance is precisely what you need when all you want to do is collapse in your hotel room and prepare for the early flight in the morning. Luckily, you have your trusted bodyguard right outside the door who will always help you with whatever you need.
·······•✦ pairing: bodyguard!rafayel x celebrity!reader
·······•✦ word count: 3k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Fluff, Smut, Shameless Smut, Undressing, Complicated Relationships, Secret Relationship, Rafayel is your best kept secret, Quickies, Semi-Public Sex, in the Makeup room, Praise, Couch Sex, Naked Female Clothed Male, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Creampie, Teasing, Quiet Sex, POV Second Person, No use of y/n
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
Rafayel loves you in the silence. In the moments that penetrate your hectic life, Rafayel is there. Always. But there are times when he wishes he could love loudly.
He steps up in moments where you need him, there with a strong arm or a tender shoulder. He’s the wall between danger and the one thing most important to him: you. With him around, there’s complete certainty that nothing bad will happen to you, and you know that.
This thing between you—there’s no name to it—but it’s been there since that rainy night in Europe. Trailing through empty streets, lost in the maze of alleys, just because you were hungry for a specific drink only found in that country. Of course, Rafayel indulged you, but it ended up in a steamy shower, hands exploring and eyes telling more stories than words ever could.
It’s happened a few times since then, this shared passion hidden behind doors and under sheets. But no one could know. It would be the scandal of the century, sleeping with your bodyguard, but the urge to scream your affections from the rooftops itches at your throat every night you fall asleep in his arms.
A sharp knock on the makeup room door breaks Rafayel from his stoic guard. People rush past, the night finally coming to an end after a fantastic concert you put on, but there’s still so much to do. Packing up the equipment, changing into comfortable clothes, and arranging transportation to the hotel. Even posting on social media after the appearance had been done before you were left in your makeup room to change out of the tight sequin dress you wore for your final number.
“Hey, Raf?” Your voice calls out, a hint of frustration in its rasp. It isn’t until he’s slipped inside the room, the hustle and bustle of the rest of the crew fading, that you speak again. “My zipper is stuck… Can you help?”
Oh god.
He clears his throat, eyes raking across your body as he steps forward. Glitter shimmers in the bright fluorescent lights, accenting your already exposed back and the zipper only an inch pulled down. “Yeah,” he hums, stepping closer and catching the scent of your perfume. “Didn’t trust anyone else to help?”
The teasing words fan out across your shoulder, the clicking of the zipper so intimate in the air that you can only answer with a noise of acknowledgment. What you want to say—that he’s the only one you want touching you like this—falls flat on your tongue, not enough for the magnitude of your feelings for him.
There isn’t anyone you trust to undress you like this, reveal the parts of you that perhaps you look at with a judgmental eye, because he’ll never judge you. He will always stare at you like you hung all the stars in the sky, like he would part seas if you asked, like you will continue to be the most beautiful person in his eyes.
That will never change.
There’s something to the silence as he takes his time undoing the zipper, and if it weren’t sending waves of heat in your abdomen, you would grumble at him to hurry up because the sweat of the performance and uncomfortable panties were really starting to annoy you. Instead, you tense as Rafayel presses a quick kiss to your shoulder, the dress falling in a heap of sequins and glitter on the floor.
It’s not a tense that is particularly off-putting, especially when you turn around in Rafayel’s arms, eyes glazing along his biceps in that particularly tight shirt, the hidden muscles rippling under the surface. At a glance, he wouldn’t seem as strong as he is, but god is he muscular. He’s able to push through crowds, block you from harm and paparazzi, and he’ll even pick you up in one arm should the situation call for it.
(Although the situation rarely calls for it, he does it to have an excuse to hold you close that isn’t in nights of secrecy.)
“Have I told you how beautiful you are recently?” Rafayel whispers, his hands hovering over your hips like he’s been told not to touch, but every inch of him craves the contact. “Or how talented you are? Or how you light up every stage you’re on?”
Your eyes roll into the back of your head, each compliment breaking in the form of a breathy chuckle from your lips and twitching fingers wanting so badly to tangle in his messy purple locks. They’re soft—you’ve felt them many times before when his head was buried between your thighs or his face was tucked in the crook of your neck—but in the moment, with him staring so reverently at you, it overwhelms you in the best way.
“I’m sure you have,” you mumble, your throat forming a lump at the rising temperature and tension that anchors you to the spot. As the hustle of clean-up continues outside, you both stand in silence, daring the other to make the first move. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted, and the thought of letting him go sends a sharp pain to your chest.
His eyes—always so expressive, even when he doesn’t think you can tell—linger on the curve of your bare waist and the skin that he’s kissed across and worshiped. Seeing you like this again, when the last time the sight blessed him was more than a month ago, doesn’t help tame down the quickly forming bulge in his black slacks.
“Well,” a warm palm cups your cheek, touching so fragile that you barely feel it, “you deserve to hear it every day.” The tender words bring a smile to your face, one of your hands holding Rafayel’s wrist to keep his palm there. “Because you are… Talented, sparkling…” In a softer voice, one reserved only for you: “beautiful.”
It aches that he can’t say these words out in public, that he can’t wrap an arm around your waist without fans saying it’s just for protection. Even the idea that he can’t take you out on a date without it being scandalous, that you would be on the front pages for getting too close to your bodyguard.
But with you looking at him like this, like you’re pleading for him to do something, he can’t find it in himself to care. He needs you. You need him. Who cares what anyone else would think?
He doesn’t even check the door to see if it’s locked, because if someone walks in, then they would be able to see Rafayel kissing you with the fervor that doesn’t come close to matching the fire in his heart that burns only for you. They would see your lips fitting perfectly with his, slotting together like coming home after a long day. And it was a long day, but you would never say no to the way his hands grip your thighs, hoisting them around his waist and letting you feel the bulge in his pants.
“Excited already?” You tease, fingers threading through his hair, musing on the strands until they look thoroughly ruined. Luckily, you’re in the makeup room with plenty of hair products to appear somewhat put together when you leave for the hotel. Nothing else registers in your brain as Rafayel’s hand presses against your lower back, holding you flush against him while he walks a few steps to the couch in the corner.
Rafayel pants, eyes half-lidded, and hips fitting perfectly against yours. “Always excited when it comes to you, cutie.” The nickname, slipping off his tongue that quickly tangles with yours in another kiss, is so natural that goosebumps erupt on your skin. It doesn’t help that you’re nearly naked and the air conditioning is blasting.
“Don’t tease,” You warn against his mouth, one of your legs wrapping around his waist to grind his bulge against the thin fabric of your panties. The exertion of the performance tugs at your muscles, but the night is young, and although you have to board another flight in the morning, you need some time with the man who has always been by your side. “Please.”
The man above you chuckles, eyes closed and chest heaving with breath. Each puff of air is labored, following the trail of his hands unbuttoning his shirt in mere seconds. He fumbles, staring down at you with palms on your hips and thumbs hooking into the waistband of your panties.
“Since you asked so nicely…” His voice—teasing and deep at the same time—sends a rush through you. “Who am I to ignore the star of the night?”
“Don’t call me that.” You whimper, the soft cushions of the couch plush against your back as he hovers over you. As he unbuttons his slacks, he pauses, blinking slowly. “I don’t want to be the star of the night right now.”
Various states of undress settle on your frames, the chatter outside becoming softer as many people have already left for the night. But you both are here, locked away in privacy because it’s the only time you can indulge in each other.
“Then tell me what you want to be.” Kisses hover over your collarbone, his nose bumping the strap of your bra. As much as he wants to undress you completely, he knows the fans are waiting; he knows that to put everything back on would take too much time. But that doesn’t mean he has to do the same tonight in your hotel room—if you want it. “Tell me, and I’ll make it come true.”
There’s a beat of silence, your fingers massaging his scalp as soft whimpers of his name escape parted lips. Thoughts flicker, but there’s only one thing you can grasp as he pushes your panties to the side to drag a middle finger through your folds.
“I wanna be yours.”
Rafayel doesn’t pause. “Then be mine.” He speaks against your lips, unable to do anything to calm the rapid beat of his heart because fuck you look so good beneath him, saying you want to be his. “Please, be mine.”
It’s the first time he’s asked for something from you besides asking to switch seats on a plane so you’re safer. Everything he’s said since he started being your bodyguard has been for your safety, but his gaze turns hazy when you fumble with his slacks, pushing the already unbuttoned fabric down.
Then comes the silence again.
Breaths hitch, hearts beating in the emptiness, calling out for each other to finally give in. Each and every second of being your bodyguard meant looking out for you, making sure you were safe from the fans and media, but he couldn’t protect you from the feelings that crept up every time you met eyes. His care, his gentle touch, his lips on yours and chests pressed together…
You couldn’t deny him.
“Okay,” foreheads meet, and your fingers wrap around his length, skin touching skin and drawing out a muffled grunt from behind tightly closed lips. “I’ll be yours.” You whisper, the tip of your nose brushing his as he holds your chin between his thumb and index finger. “Can you be mine?”
Rafayel chuckles. “Oh, love.” His hips stutter, the head of his cock pushing an inch inside you and filling you out in the best way. Your lips part in a silent moan. “I’ve always been yours.” Each letter is carved into your parted lips, making sure you know how enraptured he is by you when his fingers twine between yours, and his hips sit flush against plush skin.
“Good.” You kiss him, drowning in his warmth that envelops you. Only an inch separates you when you speak again. “And I’ve always been yours.”
His palm presses your hand into the couch cushion above you, and you pay no mind when someone calls out your name from the hallway outside. All that matters is the way Rafayel’s hips grind into yours, stirring the heat in your body and sparking it into a raging wildfire.
Words fail him as the sound of skin slapping bounces off the walls, and it’s a good thing that the room is semi-soundproof, because one earful from a wandering stagehand would mean headlines. But neither of you cares, not when eyes share the whole story of this thing between you.
“You’re so– beautiful.” He whispers, planting one foot on the floor and angling your hips up just enough to fuck right into your G-spot, drawing out the softest whimpers and moans of his name.
Quick breaths puff into the shared space between your lips, accompanying the back and forth of names and expletives with kisses littered every few words. His other hand anchors to your hip, holding on with a vice grip to make sure you can’t squirm away, that you’re right where you belong.
Each touch worships you, thumb brushing circles into your skin as he fights off every urge to explode. It doesn’t matter how many times he has you like this—folded up and gasping prayers of his name—he’ll never get enough. It’ll never be enough. Not until he can hold you as the morning light breaks through the curtains and kiss you on the cheek before you go out on stage.
But now you’re his. He’s yours. And maybe later, when he’s washing your hair and wrapping you up in a fluffy robe, he’ll finally realize that the only time it’ll be enough is when he can spend a lifetime loving you like this.
It’s hard to last long when you’re staring up at him with half-lidded eyes, a single tear slipping from the sheer pleasure that shoots through your veins. Half of your body is lifted in the air, but Rafayel does all the work, giving your muscles a much-needed release and letting him take the reins.
“Raf–”
His hum morphs into a grunt, a vein pulsing on the side of his neck as his palm flattens on your lower back. “Yeah, love?” The nickname—once cutie but now something more profound—clenches your legs around his waist, the rush of euphoria not stopping. “Talk– ha– to me.”
Thrusting slows into a rhythm that pulls a whine of discontent from you. “Relax, cutie.” He kisses your cheek. “Just making sure you can talk.” A teasing rise of his eyebrows should infuriate you, especially since he’s already rendered you speechless with his cock, but you respond with another whine and a pout.
“I was gonna say I’m close,” your ankles lock behind him, making sure he can’t pull out all the way and deprive you of the one thing you want; the one thing you need. Him. “But you stopped.”
Rafayel laughs, slotting his lips against yours in a kiss that would steal your breath if he hadn’t already picked up the pace and started fucking you even faster than before. He was determined, especially since time wasn’t on your side.
Eventually, someone would come looking for you. Hell, your name had been on people’s lips all night, but it was only a matter of time before the handle to the door jiggled and you were forced to walk out with your bodyguard in tow.
“Better?” He asks, teasing and breathy all in the same word. When you answer with a near-silent whimper, he squeezes your hand. “You can be as loud as you want later,” his promise is followed by the snapping of his hips. “But now you gotta keep it down.”
As much as he wants to hear you, there will be time for it in a more private space, when people aren’t filing past the room. The promise of later also registers in your swamped brain, head, and heart full of him until the only thing you can say is a ragged whisper of his name.
“Go ahead, love.” His teeth grind together, thighs flexing when you finally let the pleasure take over, legs locking around his hips, and orgasm crashing down on your chest. The breath is stolen from your lungs, unable to do anything except dig your fingers into his shoulder beneath his unbuttoned shirt, the twitching of his cock pulling another whimper from you.
“Fuck…” You both breathe out at almost the same time, staring at each other for a second before reality crashes down. “We gotta go.”
Still, Rafayel takes his time buttoning his shirt and pants, getting composed before slipping your panties back in place—trapping his cum inside you so you feel him with each step you take—and helping you get dressed in a more comfortable outfit for the drive to the hotel.
Once you’re both composed, there’s an awkward moment where neither of you knows what to do. The confession said in a moment of passion still holds weight when his hand cradles your hip, and multi-color eyes tell you all you need to know.
“Are you okay?” He asks, but the hidden meaning beneath isn’t lost on you. Did you mean it?
You smile, leaning forward to kiss him. Slow and tentative, without the guise of sex or anything of the sort. “I’m okay.” You mumble against his lips, and although you want to hold his hand, drag him out in the crowd of fans and media to show off what’s yours—and now you’re his—but you settle for another kiss. “I meant it… But let’s talk back at the hotel, when we aren’t in a time crunch.”
Your panties are soaked, the memory of his hands on you still imprinted in your skin, but there will be more imprints. Until your body is tattooed in his touch, you’ll drown yourself in him.
“You’re always in a time crunch.” He jokes, letting you lead him to the door, which unlocks with a click.
Before you go back into the world of concerts and fans, early flights and short turnarounds, he leans forward to kiss your cheek. Soft and sweet, but completely Rafayel.
Looking back at him, your smile morphs into something subtle, something reserved only for him.
·······•✦ description: When emergency surgeries keep Zayne late at the hospital on his birthday, it's close to midnight when he arrives back home.
·······•✦ pairing: zayne x afab!reader
·······•✦ word count: 2k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Established Relationship, Birthday Sex, Fluff, Smut, Zayne works late on his birthday, Aftercare, Cowgirl Position, Of course you're riding Zayne, Nipple Play, Nipple Licking, Body Worship, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Creampie, Cock Warming, short little piece for Zayne's birthday, ik i'm late i'm sorry, POV Second Person, No use of y/n
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
Working until close to midnight wasn’t precisely on Zayne’s agenda for his birthday, but after countless emergencies that he couldn’t pass up, the front door of his house finally opened with a low creak. He doesn’t expect anything, especially since he had already messaged you not to wait up for him, so that you could celebrate the following day when time allowed you to be together.
Except you greet him—curled into the couch and hugging a seal plushie he had won you on your first date—fast asleep. Your lashes flutter as his coat rustles against the rack beside the door, shoes discarded and socked feet gliding across the smooth floor until he’s kneeling in front of you.
For a quick second, he doesn’t even register your nightgown—if one could even call it a nightgown. It isn’t until his palm finds the warmth of your thigh that he takes in your appearance.
The makeup you put on for the night was long gone, wiped off, and tossed into the bathroom trash. Your cheek is squished right against the pillow and the head of the plushie. Your hand clutches it so tightly, bringing Zayne back into memories of you cuddling him and holding on for dear life. But the last thing he sees, what nearly brings him to his knees, is your gown.
It’s not even a gown, but a sheer piece of fabric that covers you enough to be used for sleeping, but its practicality is called into question when a gust of air flutters and exposes the curve of your ass. It’s hugged by a slim piece of blue silk, the thong doing nothing to hide any part of you except your pussy.
A tightness in his chest has Zayne sighing. Immediately, he knows it’s not a heart attack, no… Ever since you two started dating, these pangs in his chest have become a physical representation of his love for you.
You prepared so much for him.
“I’m sorry, darling.” His lips ghost over your forehead. He really tried to get home quickly, but he was needed for surgery after surgery.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he hooks an arm under your knees and back, cradling you close. “Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers, relishing in your warmth for the first time all day. “You must be cold dressed like this.”
His own joke makes him chuckle, but the sound is cut off when you mumble something incoherent and bury your face in the crook of his neck. If he could love you anymore, then he fell deeper down the rabbit hole.
“I know, I know…” He soothes your sleeping body, laying you carefully on the bed while rushing through his night routine. On regular occasions, he would take his time, because he was always meticulous in making sure his face was washed, teeth were brushed,and even a quick shower sometimes when he had to be to work early the next morning.
But you’re waiting for him. Even asleep, he doesn’t want you to be cold.
Your body fits perfectly in his hands, like he was made to be your anchor, and as he settles under the covers-bare chest a home for your cheek and waist enduring your tight grip—there isn’t anywhere else he would rather be for his birthday. Emergencies happen, but knowing you’ll always be there when he returns is a comfort he didn’t think he would ever have.
“I love you, darling.” A puff of warm air against your temple, the words so quiet that Zayne can barely hear them from his own lips. The way your body curls into him is like a koala or sloth clinging to a tree, the doctor’s heart melting even more when he looks down to catch the flutter of your eyelashes.
The room is dark except for a cool-toned lamp on Zayne’s nightstand. It’s bright enough to highlight his sharp jaw and soft eyes, trained on you as you stir from sleep.
The first thing you notice is his hand drawing circles into your lower back; the nightgown you wore for his birthday surprise is pushed up so he can feel your skin directly. The second thing you register is his heart—steady against your ear.
“Happy birthday, Zaynie.” You mumble, sleepy syllables drawing out into something almost unintelligible if Zayne didn’t know you so well. The hand on his waist moves to his chest, your index finger drawing infinity symbols into his bare skin. “‘M sorry…”
A sound of discontent echoes in your head. “Don’t apologize.” Short and sweet, he cups your cheek. “I was the late one.” It’s true, he was the one who was late.
“It’s okay.” As coherence comes back, you sit up on one arm, a lazy smile on your face. “Do you like your present?” Gesturing down to your outfit, he lets out a puff of air. The hand on your back comes down to knead the flesh of your ass, appreciating every little piece about you.
“Hmmmm,” leaning his head back, he pretends to examine you. “You know I love it.”
Then, because sometimes he can’t control his impulses, he closes the small distance to kiss you. Slow and sweet, like savoring his favorite candy, you melt into him. Your head tilts, allowing him better access to deepen the kiss into something more passionate and intense.
“Darling,” his breath hitches when you dip a hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, finding him already half-hard and throbbing under your fingertips. “You just- ha- woke up…” The grip he has on your ass tightens, one finger pushing past the fabric of your panties to tease your entrance.
Humming, your thumb teases his tip, already leaking precum and pulsing with the beat of his heart. The morning was so hectic, you didn’t have the opportunity to do this, and with an hour left of his birthday, what better time than now?
“But I want you.”
Those simple words are all Zayne needs.
His biceps flex as he hoists you up into his lap, your hands pushing down his sweatpants while his tugs your panties to the side. It’s rushed and frantic, but the pent-up frustration of the day and seeing you dressed like that doesn’t help his own desires.
“You look so perfect,” he breathes against your lips, trailing kisses down your exposed collarbone before sucking at the skin of your chest. The gown accentuates your body, your chest right in his face—the way he likes it—and ass stuck out while you grind down onto his cock.
“Dressed up just for you.” Sitting up on your knees, you reach down to tease the head of his length against your folds, the moisture aiding in your own slick. “All I wanted was to make you feel good.”
As you sink down on his cock, Zayne’s heart launches into his throat, a strangled grunt following a sharp exhale. His words jumble in his head because you’re so warm despite being dressed in so little, enveloping him in your arms around his neck and lips against his temple. A flick of his tongue against your skin comes when you’re fully seated on his cock.
A drowsy yet satisfied sigh escapes you, and you thread your fingers through Zayne’s dark hair when he tugs down the front of your gown to expose your already pebbled nipples to his eyes. “Beautiful.” He groans, wrapping his lips around your nipple while toying with the other.
It isn’t until you start moving, your hips circling his without sitting up, that the vibrations of his moans bounce around your heart.
“Zayne,” you whimper into his ear, the tip of your nose gracing the curve while he presses on your lower back. Tumbling forward, you’re lying perfectly flat against him, your thighs clenching around his waist while he worships your chest that holds the heart he loves so dearly. Each beat means another moment he can be by your side. “Fu-ck.”
“Mhm,” his lips trail back up to slot against your own, eyes closed and hips rising to bury himself deeper inside you. “Yes, darling?” Before you can say anything, he senses the frantic grip of your hand on the back of his neck, and the whine as you try to lift your hips. “Still tired?” A nod.
Planting his feet, he stares up at you, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched as your thumb plays with the short hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve got you.” He whispers, kissing your cheek once while wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to him. “Just relax.”
It takes nothing for him to lift you just to pull you back down onto his cock, spearing you from the inside out in the most delicious way. He groans, but his eyes refuse to close when your face morphs into pure pleasure.
“Ah- Zayne…” You whimper, your other hand cupping his jaw. “Feels- so- good-”
He can’t speak, too overwhelmed by you wrapped so tightly around him, your breasts bouncing in his face, and each pulse of your pussy around his cock. Your shared arousal drips down his balls and onto the sheets below, ruining them, but who cares when you’re so perfect on top of him.
It’s his birthday, but it’s almost like you’re the one getting a present when he’s filling you completely, curving into your g-spot and manifesting small snowflakes in your vision. He doesn’t mean to, but the ice crystals show up when he loses control-and with his composed expression and steady heart, he rarely does.
“Thank you,” he grunts, jaw tight with exertion.
You don’t ask why, but so many hidden meanings echo in those two simple words. Thank you for the present. Thank you for being with me. Thank you for trusting me.
“Always,” you whisper back, your mouth left hanging open when moans mix with the slapping of his balls on your ass.
If there’s anything about Zayne, it’s that he’s able to handle so much. Despite working twelve hours, he can fuck you like he was relaxing the entire time and still have the stamina to go another round.
Everything culminates in lips locking together, noises shared between tongues dancing while your bodies try to deal with the impact of your orgasms. One after another, you tumble first, your legs locking and fingers curling into his hair to hold on so tight that the black strands may as well have been ripped from his scalp.
He comes right after, with the whisper of your name on his swollen lips and his hands smoothing out the tense muscles of your thighs while filling you with everything he has. Spurt after spurt of cum is released with each twitch of his cock, so spent but still wanting to give you every last bit of himself.
As the clock ticks to midnight, you nuzzle into his neck. “Happy birthday.” You whisper, kissing the junction of his neck and shoulder. “I love you.”
Zayne smiles, one hand massaging your back while the other cradles your thigh. Holding you close like this, still connected in the most intimate way, is all he ever wants. Presents be damned, being able to feel your heartbeat in more ways than one, to know your heart beats for him just as his beats for you, means more than anything else you could give to him.
“I love you, too.” A kiss to your forehead finds its mark, his following words fanning out across your face. “I’m giving us five minutes like this, then we need to shower and change the sheets.”
Always the practical man, he indulges in the one thing he craves—you—until he’s forced to stand. Still buried deep inside you, his soft cock enveloped in your walls, he walks to the bathroom and sets you down on the toilet.
“Strip down, I’ll change the sheets, and then we can shower.” He kisses your forehead again, his sweatpants low on his hips.
When your hand wraps around his wrist, he looks back at you. “Round two in the shower?” You ask, batting your eyelashes.
Zayne laughs, a deep rumble in his chest that heightens when your finger traces a scar on his bicep. Staring down at you, he brings your hand to his lips. His kiss lands on your ring finger, where a silent promise rings out.
·······•✦ description: With an impending mission that renders Xavier gone for nearly four full days, an idea you've had dancing around your head comes to fruition as a way for him to satisfy himself and have a little treat for moments like this.
From 'Princess': [7:28PM]
let's put on a little show tonight, maybe make a special tape for your mission tomorrow ;)
·······•✦ pairing: xavier x afab!reader
·······•✦ word count: 4.4k
·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff
·······•✦ general tags: Established Relationship, Smut, Domestic Fluff, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, pet names - my love/princess, Sex Tapes, Teasing, Dinner, Body Worship, Making Out, Cunnilingus, Xavier is a Munch ofc, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Belly Bulge, Sexual Tension, Oral Sex, Nipple Licking, Praise Kink, Sexual Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Open Ending, maybe i'll continue this idk heh, Cross-posted on AO3, Cross-Posted on Twitter
·······•✦ posted on: ao3
Warm hands.
They settle on your waist dangerously close to the exposed skin of your torso. After being unusually touchy, Xavier buries his face in your neck. The scent of meat in the skillet is nothing compared to your natural smell. It’s partly your shampoo, your perfume, and mostly your musk that he will never get enough of.
“Did you mean it?” He whispers, the pad of his thumb hooking into the waistband of your sweatpants. “The text you sent.”
Silence answers him, your eyes fixed on the dinner to prevent it from burning, and forces you to be the bad guy who evacuates the whole apartment building. It isn’t that you meant to ignore him completely, but with the food almost done, you wanted it to be perfect.
Lips attach to your neck, lightly sucking. He’s trying to get your attention, but it doesn’t seem to work as you tilt your head and allow him to do whatever he pleases. “Princess.” His voice is a slow drawl, edging into a whine to get even an ounce of your attention.
“Hm?” You hum, turning off the stove and placing the pan on a cooler burner. It gives it a moment to cool down, and you a second to give your desperate boyfriend a bit of attention. “Welcome home, Xavie.”
The saccharine tone to your voice doesn’t do anything to quell the heat that has lingered in Xavier’s chest since you sent that text to him right before he clocked out from work. His Hunter’s uniform is still tight on his muscles, showing off the broad angles of his shoulders and slim waist. He was an absolute beauty to look at, but underneath the clothes and layers of skin was a heart that beat only for you.
His hands turn you around until you're facing him. An almost childish frown dips the corners of his lips, and he leans forward so his forehead is resting against yours. “Just ‘welcome home’?”
Your eyebrow raises. “What else did you expect?” It’s said like a tease, knowing precisely what he wants but not giving him the satisfaction of pouncing on him as soon as he walks through the door, like you secretly wanted. “I’m just finishing up dinner.”
“I can think of something better to eat for dinner.” His nose brushes yours, the innuendo coloring the tips of his ears as if he weren’t the one to say it.
“Xavier!” A giggle, and your hand makes contact with his chest in a soft smack. “Go change, then we can eat dinner.”
His expression goes from pouting to a smile, eyes roaming across your features. “I just need one thing.” He whispers, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you in for a hug. Warmth tickles your neck as he nuzzles there, taking in your presence. After a long day at work, it means the world to be able to come back to your shared apartment. “I missed you.”
Another giggle, your fingers carding through his soft locks. “I missed you, too.” A few kisses linger on your skin, Xavier’s cheeks heated from being able to hold you like this again. “We can spend some time together tonight, okay? Especially since you leave for your mission tomorrow night.”
Xavier frowns, standing straight, although his arms still stay locked around you. “Don’t remind me.” He pouts again, pecking your lips. “Are you sure you can’t just coincidentally show up in the city we’re going to?”
“Unfortunately, Xav, I have a job of my own that I have to go to.” His frown continues to make you chuckle. “It’s only three days, and I’ll be waiting at the bus stop with open arms for you.”
“Good…” He trails off, his palm flat against your lower back. There’s not a moment when he wants to be apart from you, so even the act of stepping to the doorway of your dining room/kitchen is like torture. “I’ll go change. Be right back.”
As he walks down the hall to your shared bedroom, you set up the plates and bowls of food for you to have your dinner. But the suggestion that you sent him a few hours earlier still bites at the back of your mind. Anticipation, hot and heavy in your veins, surges through you, but nutrition and the smell of the delicious dinner you prepared rumble in your stomach.
Then, you think about the mission Xavier is going on. It’s dangerous, yes, but the team of Hunters he’ll be going with, along with his sheer strength and prowess as the best fighter in the Association, brings a relaxation to your muscles.
“Dinner smells good.” Xavier’s voice fills the silence, his hair messy from removing his uniform and cheeks still flushed pink. More often than not, his thoughts run rampant, especially with the message he had to read in the seclusion of his private office at work. “You’re the best.”
His arms once again wrap around you from behind, bringing your back against the chiseled muscles of his chest. His chest that is void of any fabric, bare for you to gaze at as if you hadn’t seen him shirtless more times than you can count. He’s holding you close like he’s going to be away for years, the mere thought of letting go something that is far away in his mind.
“Thank you… But I’m sure it tastes just as good as it smells.” You point out, your fingers dancing up his bicep. The shirt you threw on has the lingering smell of his cologne mixed with the laundry detergent you always use. It’s comforting, like the way he’s so secure behind you. “Do you wanna eat?”
“Not yet.” He mumbles into your neck, savoring the feel of you in his arms. His fingers massage your hips, keeping you in place for a few more seconds. “I could stay like this forever.”
Basking in the warmth of his arms around you, there’s a hum that vibrates your chest. The smell of food fills your nose, and you turn to look at his side profile. “Well, the quicker we eat dinner, the quicker we can put my suggestion into action.” The suggestion doesn’t fall on deaf ears, but to your surprise, Xavier just holds you closer.
“Your plan sounds nice, princess, but I just want to hold you like this for the moment.” Yes, he’s excited for the prospect of the little thing you sprung on him, but at that exact point in time, he was only focused on how you felt in his arms. Snug into his chest, fit together like puzzle pieces.
After a minute, he lets go of you, pulling your chair out for you and pushing you in before walking around to his side. He sits, taking a look at the food laid out for him. “You spoil me too much.” He jokes, letting you grab the food you want before making his plate.
Silence settles as you eat your food, small talk lingering into hums and compliments of your cooking. Xavier stuffs his mouthful, his eyes lighting up with each bite. He’s always been mesmerized by you and your ability to do anything, and this isn’t any different.
“I missed you at work today,” Xavier says, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Even though I was fighting Wanderers, I thought of you.”
“Hm, really?” You tilt your head, stand up, and grab your plate. Xavier follows, helping you wash the dishes. Standing side by side, his warmth radiates through you, and as you’re finishing off the last dish, Xavier wraps his arms around your waist once more.
“Really.” He finally mumbles into the crook of your neck, his lips finding purchase along the junction of your shoulder. “Especially when I was packing up for the day and I saw what you sent me.”
A smirk makes its way onto your face, and as you dry off your hands, you turn in his embrace. “I knew you would like the idea, Xavie.” You wrap your arms around his neck, one of your hands carding through his hair while the other traces light circles between his shoulder blades. “I think it would be nice for you on your trip. For when you miss me.”
His hands slip under your shirt, brushing tentatively along your lower back before tracing the curve of your spine. “I always miss you.” He breathes, the tip of his nose walking along your cheekbone before nudging yours.
The first kiss is half breath and half lips. Slow and careful, testing the waters while also getting the touch of your mouth on his. It’s okay for the moment, but it will never be enough to quell the never-ending fire that burns in his heart for you. “God, princess.” Breath fans across your face, and Xavier’s eyes are closed as you massage his scalp with your fingers. “I need you.”
“Well, let’s go. Standing here won’t do anyt-mmph!” Your words are cut off by his lips finding yours. Desperate and insane, craving every bit of your touch, and also shutting you up in the process. Which he doesn’t want to do, but he’s just eager.
Xavier’s palms flatten against your back, feeling up every inch of skin like you’re a statue and he’s admiring you. It’s reverent and loving, but it isn’t until he’s cupping your ass that the pool of heat in your abdomen grows to encapsulate your heart.
“Jump.”
You obey his command, jumping and wrapping your legs around his waist. He’s graceful in his movements, striding toward your shared bedroom without so much as pulling away from your lips. You’re captivating him, the star that twinkles in the night and guides sailors across the sea. Except he’s a lonely traveler and you’re his star.
“Check the- mmph- ah- top dresser drawer.” You mumble between kisses, the plush sheets of your bed cradling your back as you shift and move up the bed. Xavier reluctantly steps away to go where you tell him.
He’ll always obey you, like a knight following his Queen. To the ends of hell and back, and around again in a perpetual cycle.
Xavier pulls out the contraption, his cheeks flushing pink and eyebrows raising. “You sneaky woman.” A chuckle. “Buying this and hiding it from me.” It’s all in good fun, and you take in the sight of his back muscles rippling as he turns away from you to set it up on the top of the dresser.
Knick-knacks of your vacations together. Pictures of you two. Trinkets that Xavier has made or bought from his Hunter missions. They all sit there on the dresser, but they’re joined by something new.
A small tripod. Its adjustable legs allow Xavier to secure his phone in the grip and angle it just right. While a bit adept at the technology part, he cranes his neck to watch the screen, mumbling something to himself as you lie on your side and enjoy the view.
His sides flex, the taut muscles moving on their own accord beneath the pale layer of skin. To the quick eye, they wouldn’t assume Xavier was particularly strong, since he always covered up in long sleeves and hoodies. But when you get the pleasure of seeing him bare, you can see how hard he works reflected in his body.
“I didn’t hide it from you.” You laugh, your eyes scanning the small dips in his lower back and the waistband of his sweatpants falling ever so slowly as if it were teasing you into a glimpse. “I just got it yesterday.”
Xavier isn’t looking at you directly.
Instead, his gaze focuses on his phone screen, making sure to catch the entirety of the bed and moving it just slightly. There, he thinks, perfect.
Then, Xavier presses the big red button on his phone before stepping back and admiring you lying out on the bed for him.
Beep. Record.
In a flash of light, he’s hovering over you, his lips finding yours once more. But there’s more desire behind it. More desperation. More reverence and more intensity. Xavier doesn’t think he can ever be away from you, but the reminder of his mission in the morning looms over his head.
But he’s determined to take his time.
His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts, his mouth still dancing with yours as he tugs them down and exposes your pussy to the chill of the air. Sucking in a breath, Xavier takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, parting your lips for him.
The palms of his hands settle on the insides of your thighs, his hips slotting against yours and grinding the cotton fabric of his sweatpants against you. It’s a slow grind, just to remind you how painfully hard he is and how much he wants you. How much this little idea of yours turns him on.
Small flickers of light dance around the darkness of the room, but the lamps on your respective nightstands are enough light so Xavier can pull back and see the desire clouding your eyes. He’s also ensured that there was enough lighting for him to see everything on his watch.
“My love,” he whispers against your lips, hands slipping under your shirt to grip at any bit of flesh he can hold. It isn’t long before he’s pushing up the fabric, parting from your lips long enough to strip it off and toss it aside. “You’re so… So perfect.”
With his hands off your thighs, you wrap them around his waist, keeping him there so there is no escape, as if he wanted to escape the confines of your body.
His kisses move to your neck, nipping at the skin there while you grip tightly onto his hair. The descent down the bed is paved with praise and whispers of promises. How much he loves you. How amazing you are. How beautiful you look. What he’s going to do when he gets back from the mission.
He moves across your collarbones, down the curve of your breasts—paying attention to your nipples—down your stomach and sucking at the skin of your hips. Each kiss brings another rush of heat through you, and you’re becoming needy. Whines and whimpers of words that resemble please but have no real substance spill from your lips, but Xavier pays no attention.
Then, his cool breath fans out across your pussy, watching for a moment when you clench around nothing. “Next time,” he says, looking up from between your legs. His eyes glow with light, the blue shining like gems in a cave. “I’m going to need a closer shot of this.” Your eyes widen, legs threatening to tighten around his head. “Maybe get a professional video camera… So I can see your perfect pussy just like this.”
He doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he dives in, his tongue parting your folds before roaming every inch of your pussy. No part of you goes untouched, especially when he’s so attuned to your body.
Xavier knows how to flick the tip of his tongue across your clit. He knows how to shake his head just right and grind his perfect nose against the bundle of nerves. He knows how to grip your hips in his vice-like hands, the added pressure that ebbs into slight pain only bringing you closer to the edge.
“F- Xavier…” You sigh, your fingers tugging slightly as he immerses himself in the soft moans and whimpers you give off.
He hums, the vibration traveling through you when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. His eyes never leave your face, drinking in the sight of your mouth hanging open and a noise that is so close to a delicious scream that he wants to keep going. He wants more.
The rasp in his voice when he pulls just an inch away from your pussy sends a shiver down your spine. “Only- ah- say my n-ame.” He commands, his brows furrowed as he goes back in.
The ability to breathe isn’t essential for him right now. What is important is the way your hips are desperately trying to buck against his mouth, chasing your release that comes toward you like a freight train. Who needs oxygen when he can breathe in your noises, each and every one that slips from your pretty mouth.
His fingers dance along your hip and down your thigh, his palm pressing until your leg is pushed all the way up, spreading you even more for him. It’s also a clever way to expose you to the camera in the corner, the lens catching the tip of his tongue, dragging from your entrance to the hood of your clit.
“Xavier… Fu-fuck.” His lips latch onto you, and you feel every inch of his tongue and teeth as he eats you out with as much fervor as always. However, there’s an added intensity when he knows that he’ll be able to watch this back later and relive the moments between your thighs.
“Again.”
He grunts, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the meat of your thigh while the other wraps around your torso. The muscles in his bicep flex as he holds you still, the indents of his fingers on your skin giving off the right amount of pressure that you know will have you sore, but it’s such a good sore.
“Xavier!”
The scream rips from your throat, the hairs on his head threatening to be pulled from his scalp as you twist and writhe through your orgasm. It’s intense, but it’s nothing compared to the deep darkness in Xavier’s eyes as he loudly slurps at your pussy, coaxing you further and further into overstimulation.
Darkness shrouds your vision as you close your eyes, succumbing to him and his tongue that dips into your fluttering hole. He’s tasting, indulging, savoring because he knows he won’t be able to have you for four whole days—including travel. And that’s the worst sort of torture.
All he wants is to spend the rest of eternity in bed with you. Cuddling, between whispers of love and physical expressions of your deepest desires. Napping together as the days blend into nothingness. Even when the world has collapsed, all he wants is to cradle you in his arms and kiss your forehead until you both cease to exist.
Xavier settles for this perfection right here.
You. In all your glory. Your body bare and chest heaving. Your eyes heavy-lidded and cloudy with the aftermath of your orgasm. Your breath, which comes out in stuttered gasps, whispers of expletives, and his name, coming between breaths.
"My love," he whispers on the road back up your body, his lips follow the same path as before, stopping only to wrap his tongue around your perky nipples. "You're being quite loud… Are you enjoying putting on a show?"
The teasing words are spoken against your lips, arms lazily falling over his shoulders as he kisses you softly. Just enough for you to taste yourself, but not enough to give you the satisfaction. When you whine in loss, he snickers.
"I think you like this." Xavier's demeanor changes. The ever-loving and giving boyfriend flickers, and the haze in his eye darkens as he looks down at you. "You like knowing that I'll watch this back tomorrow night," kiss, "stroking myself to your moans," kiss, "wishing you were in bed with me." Another kiss, quick and fleeting. "But nothing will compare."
One of his hands pushes his sweatpants down, his cock springing free from its constraints. The tip is red, but the soft pink skin is littered with veins, throbbing under your gaze. Gripping himself, he drags his cock through your folds, collecting your release and making even more of a mess.
But Xavier loves this.
Making you a mess for him. Tears of pleasure and moans that ricochet around the room until they fall on his open ears. He loves it all.
"Nothing," he pushes his hips forward, his breath stuttering and edging into a grunt as his cock sits halfway in your welcoming pussy, "will compare to this right here." The pad of his thumb rubs slow circles into your clit, his heart already stuttering as your hole pulses around him. "You're so… ha- warm."
"Xavier… Fuck- that- feels so good." The hoarseness of your voice isn't lost on Xavier, his eyes searching your face as his pelvis finally finds yours. "Oh my-"
"I know, love." He soothes you with kisses along your face. Your forehead, nose, eyelids, and lips. It all gets adequate attention from him as his other hand cradles your cheek. "You're doing so, so well." Despite the conviction in his tone, it's still shaky with restraint while your walls clench around him. Soft sighs and grunts follow each vowel as he speaks again. "I'm going to… Move, okay?"
Nodding, you babble out something that sounds like: "Yes, yes, please!" There's nothing more you want than him, and your pleasure is only heightened when you crack open your eyes to see his phone still propped up on the dresser. The thought of him watching it tomorrow, aroused by the scene, speeds up your heart.
Just like before, he props your leg up, spreading you open so he can watch the way his cock disappears in your heat. Frothing white of your previous release and added arousal build up around the base, standing out against the faint hair between his cock and his navel.
His palm is warm in the crook of your knee, allowing him to reach even deeper inside you. The head of his cock makes a lewd squelch as he picks up the pace, his hips slapping against yours in as much desperation as pure desire. A hand in his hair, one on his shoulder, your thigh against his ribcage… He's well aware of all points of contact.
"You feel so good, princess." His voice is deep. Deeper than normal. It carries an air of rugged need, like an animal chasing after its prey. "So, so good."
He's not the most vocal. It's only his occasional grunt and groan when your nails dig into his shoulder blade, or when he frantically grinds his thumb into your bundle of nerves and your pussy clamps down on him.
The wood of the headboard nearly makes an indent on the wall, thumping with each thrust of Xavier's hips that adds to the lava pool bubbling in your abdomen. He's good with his hips, especially after so much practice with you, learning your body and building his muscles even more toned than they already were from being in the Hunter's Association.
In a moment of pure want, Xavier turns your head, his thrusts changing from quick and rough to slow and torturous. With a look back, he catches the camera. "Show your pretty face to the camera, princess." He's not rough, but his touch is enough to keep you still, your eyes blurry as you find the starry phone case that you got him for his birthday last year.
Your moans come in quick succession, lips parted and body shaking in his grasp as he grinds against you. It's just how you like, the curve of his cock hitting just right and his pelvis smacking against your throbbing clit. A near-scream of his name comes when he presses his palm into your lower abdomen, feeling the barely there tip of his cock sending you in even more waves of pleasure.
"Come for me, my love," Xavier whispers, dipping his head down until the tips of his canines scrape against the side of your neck. It's a touch that is subtle but electric all the same, and it's precisely what you need to get to your second orgasm of the night.
It's more intense than the first one. Maybe it's because Xavier's cock reaches so deep in you compared to the thickness of his tongue. Perhaps it's the added words. Maybe it's the reverent touch on your cheek. Maybe… It's the whispered praise that vibrates against your skin, words that drift off into nothingness as Xavier himself succumbs to his own pleasure.
A groan rumbles in his chest, his face buried in your neck as he twitches and throbs with each spurt of cum that fills you to the brim. It spills out from around his base, ruining the sheets and spreading across the insides of your thighs. But Xavier doesn't want it to spill, so he keeps his hips flush against yours, each and every flinch being felt in your depths.
"Good girl," Xavier whispers, the voice on the verge of a moan as he grips your hips in a vice grip. "You did so well. Thank you… Thank you so much." Words spill, his thoughts on a rampage as your warmth continues to coax more out of him.
The muscles in Xavier's thighs flex with each labored breath that fills his lungs. His fingers massage your hips, slow and gentle, while he whispers sweet nothings into your skin. "You're amazing. Perfect… Mine…"
Your fingers run through his hair, soothing him as his kisses turn featherlight on your neck. His weight is almost entirely on you, but it's not uncomfortable. Like a weighted blanket, you nearly find yourself drifting off into a peaceful sleep.
Except as soon as you find yourself lulled into a sense of contentment, Xavier pulls out of you for a split second. His hands, once gentle, manhandle you until you're on your hands and knees.
A noise of surprise comes, and you turn your head to find Xavier staring down at you. He glides the tip of his still hard cock through your messy folds, catching some of the cum that threatens to spill out, and coaxes it back inside you in one fluid thrust.
"My love," his voice is a low slur, like he's drunk on you and your pussy, "you can take another, right?" He's asking, prepared to be finished, click the end button on the phone, and catalogue it away for the nights he is forced to spend away from you.
But you nod.
And fuck, it's the best thing Xavier has seen since your delicious food was placed in front of him during dinner.
"Thank you." His chest fits perfectly against your back, lips brushing along your shoulder as he slowly rocks his hips against yours. The first bite is exploratory, nipping before soothing it with his warm tongue.
