You could stare Sylus’s bare back for hours. Your eyes wander over the curves of his shoulder blades, and the muscles surrounding it, watching as they ripple when he twitches. You’re tempted to leave him as he is and just admire him from where you’re standing, but it’s almost 11 AM, and you have to get him out of bed.
You walk over to the side of the bed where he’s laying and watch as his back moves with every breath. He’s laying stomach-down, his face buried in his pillow, his hand gripping his phone. The alarm that is supposed to wake him up goes off again, but he just groans, fumbles clumsily at his phone, before snoozing the alarm for the fifth time that morning. He does that without lifting his face up from the pillow.
You sigh and reach out to shake his shoulder. “Sylus. Hey. Stop hitting snooze and get up.”
You hear him groan again and mumble something incomprehensible into the pillow. He turns his face slightly, just so he can blink at you.
“Sweetheart,” he mutters, his voice still thick with sleep. “It’s still early. Give me ten more minutes.”
“You said that fifteen minutes ago!” You reach for a throw cushion at the end of the bed and playfully hit him with it. “Come on! I have stuff planned for us today. We have an early lunch reservation in an hour.”
You pull the sheets away from him, revealing him only wearing his boxers, his toned legs sprawled out almost to the end of the bed. He still doesn’t budge. You sigh again, and this time you head over to the only window in the room. You pull the curtains back and let the sunlight stream in. Sylus groans loudly, and shoves his head underneath the pillow.
“Sylus, I’m serious!” You step back towards the bed and reach for the pillow, pulling it away from him.
He finally sits up, his arm covering his face. He winces at you as you stand in the sunlight, his crimson eyes squinting in pain. You instantly feel bad, and draw the curtains closed again, then turn around to face him.
“Just join me in bed,” he pleads, almost in a whine. He pats the space next to him, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smirk. “Come on, you know you want to.”
You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. It is incredibly tempting to crawl back into bed with him and just spend the rest of the day there. You narrow your eyes at him. Even with bedhead, he still looks so damned good.
“Get dressed,” you tell him, turning back towards the door. “Coffee will be ready when you come out.”
You’re about to head out when he grabs at your wrist and tugs you back towards the bed. You look at him expectantly, and he pushes his bottom lip out into a slight pout. He taps at his lips with his index finger, and you have to stop yourself from laughing out loud.
“A kiss?” you ask, incredulous. “Seriously? Who are you, Sleeping Beauty?”
He continues to look at you with pleading eyes, so you lean in towards him, chuckling. “Okay. Just one.”
You give him a swift peck on his lips and pull back. He looks at you, his expression blank. “That’s it?” he asks, an eyebrow raised. “I’m going back to bed.”
You inhale sharply, knowing you’re giving in to his challenge. “You want a kiss? Fine. Here’s a kiss.”
You lean down again, without waiting for him to reply, catching him off-guard by directly planting your lips onto his. You start the kiss deeply, smothering him in it, almost sucking the breath out of him. You feel him freeze for a fraction of a moment, but then he kisses back, with the same intensity as you. Your hand goes to the back of his neck, pulling him in, while his grips at your hair. His tongue tries to push past your lips and teeth, and you’re about to grant him access when you pull back quickly, breaking the kiss abruptly.
Sylus, wide-eyed and panting slightly, starts to protest, but you give him a couple of playful slaps on his cheek before turning back towards the door. You smile to yourself as you walk away, noticing that his boxers seemed a little tighter, knowing he’s more than wide awake now,
“More where that came from if you get out of bed. I’ll see you in the kitchen!”
sylus sleep-talks. like, a lot. most of the time, you don't know what he's talking about - he'll spout random quips about business deals and protocores. sometimes, he'll start talking about dragons and sorceresses. on ocassion, he'll say something that sounds coherent, and you'll start a conversation with him, exchanging dialogue - but he's asleep the entire time. he never remembers what he'd talked about after he wakes up, but enjoys listening to you relay whatever he said to you the next morning.
one night, after you finish showering, you head back into his room. he's already asleep and snoring quite loudly. mephisto sits on his perch in the corner of the room, also seemingly asleep. you walk past the bed, and sylus suddenly sits upright, staring straight at you. you flinch, but then see that his eyes are unfocused. he's asleep. you grin at him. "hey, sylus, what's-"
"who's behind you?"
your breath catches in your throat. sylus stares at you through heavy eyelids. your eyes shift sideways to where mephisto is, and you see that he's awake. he tilts his head to the side. "caw?"
"what-"
"who's behind you?" sylus repeats the question, his voice monotone.
you turn slowly, clutching your towel to your body. there's no one else in the room. you release the breath you've been holding and turn back to sylus.
"no one's here. go back to sleep."
he shrugs, then flops back down onto the bed heavily. he starts snoring again as soon as his head hits the pillow. you look at mephisto again. "mephie, what the hell was that about?" he turns his head to look at sylus, then to you, then tilts it before going back to sleep.
you get dressed quickly, and crawl into bed next to sylus. you sleep with one lamp on that night, and your gun on the nightstand next to you, just in case.
The door to your apartment shuts behind you with a quiet click, and you release the breath you’ve been holding, slowly and as quietly as you can. The lights are still on, and you hear the television softly playing in the living room.
“Sylus?” You call out to him, and strain your ears to listen for his reply. You don’t hear anything but the sounds of an infomercial coming from the television. You tiptoe through to the living room, wondering if he’s going to catch you sneaking in.
You got home an hour later than you had originally promised him – a night out with your friends ended up with you being the sober driver and taking some of your less than sober friends home. You had sent Sylus a message to update him, but he hadn’t replied – you could see that he had read it, though. You were so sure that you were going to be greeted with a scolding when you got home.
You enter the living room and head for the couch facing the television. You see Sylus, facing the screen, sitting upright. It seems like he hasn’t heard you come in. You make your way to the front of the couch, and you’re about to greet him when you see that his eyes are closed, and his arms are crossed over his chest. A deep rumble erupts from his throat. Has… has he fallen asleep while sitting up?
You lean in, careful to not make any noise that might wake him. He looks so peaceful, his eyelids fluttering gently, snores escaping through his lips. You spot a small sliver of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth, and you hurriedly pull your phone out from your back pocket, almost falling over in excitement as you do so. You take several pictures of him from different angles, and not once does he stir.
You’re almost tempted to leave him as he is and just stare at him the whole night, but you put your phone back in your pocket, and reach for the remote next to him on the couch. You turn the television off, and Sylus sits up so fast, it almost startles you.
“Hey,” he says, blinking rapidly. “I was watching that.”
It’s your turn to blink at him. “You… you were wanting to buy a head massager?” You turn the television back on, and it continues to play the infomercial. “The… ‘Massage Extra Pro Plus’?”
He sighs as he rises from the couch, his hand going for the back of your head. He pulls you in, and plants a kiss on your forehead. “You’re home late,” he murmurs against your skin.
“I know,” you tell him, arms wrapping around his waist. “Sorry. I did text you, though.”
“Mm,” he hums, taking the remote from your hand. He switches the television back off, and starts ushering you to the bathroom. “Let’s just get ready for bed.”
—
You watch as Sylus brushes his teeth, his hand moving almost mechanically, his eyelids drooping heavily. He looks like he’s going to fall asleep while standing up. You see that the whites of his eyes are tinged with red. A pang of guilt makes your chest ache. You can’t believe he stayed up waiting for you to come home.
“I’m sorry I made you wait,” you mumble through your toothbrush. “You must be so tired.”
He spits into the sink and wipes at his mouth with a wash cloth. “Don’t be silly,” he chides, rinsing his toothbrush out. “I’ll wait as long as I have to. You can even call if you ever need me to come pick you up. In fact, that’s preferable.”
He heads to the bathroom door, and waits for you to finish at the sink before turning the lights off.
“Time for bed,” he yawns, draping an arm over your shoulders, leading you to the bedroom.
—
“Ugh, Sweetheart, your phone,” Sylus groans, swiping at your hand.
“Sorry, sorry,” you mutter, trying to turn the brightness down. “I’ll make it darker.”
“No.” His voice is croaky, but firm. He takes the phone from your hand and turns the screen off. He places it on the nightstand, far out of your reach. “Go to sleep.”
You look at your empty hands through the darkness and sigh. You suppose he’s right. You get under the blankets and sheets, and wrap your arm around him. He stays turned away from you, but shifts slightly so that he’s better positioned in your embrace. You nuzzle your face into the space between his neck and shoulder, and you feel him relax against you.
“Are you really thinking about buying that head massager? It’s only four payments of sixteen ninenty-nine.”
You hear him chuckle into the darkness, his laugh reverberating through his back and into your chest. You tighten your embrace around him and whisper into his ear. “Well, you have me, and I give massages for free – think of me as your personal massager.”
Sylus turns to face you in bed, and drapes his arm around you. He presses his lips into your forehead, murmuring against your hair. “Yeah, but the Massage Extra Pro Plus won’t make me wait until almost sunrise for it to come home, will it?”
executive!sylus x fem-assistant!reader | smut | 4.1k words
author's note: purely self-indulgent. please don't go fucking your bosses.
“Fuck my life!”
You tear up the report you had spent hours working on, angrily shredding the pages and then slamming the pieces into the trashcan by your desk. You blink back tears, thankful that there is no one else in the office to hear you spew out profanities. Your boss has the doors to his office closed, vague silhouettes and shapes just barely visible through the frosted glass.
You’re thankful that his office is soundproof. You’d hate for him to hear your mini mental breakdown, which he had caused. Sylus Qin. When you had applied to be his executive assistant, you weren’t expecting that he would make your life a living hell. You’d been assistants to plenty of powerful men before – you were used to the shouting, the tantrums when they didn’t get what they wanted, when something was a millimeter off from their expectations. You could handle that. You’re hardened against it. But Sylus is different. He shows his disapproval and disdain through deep frowns and furrowed brows. The corner of his mouth would quirk up, and his eyes would narrow, but he would never raise his voice at you. He’d toss whatever you had presented him onto his desk dismissively, and tell you in a rough voice to go back to your desk. And for some reason, you hated that more than the shouting. At least when your previous bosses were shouting, they would tell you the reasons why you had done a shitty job. With Sylus, you have to take a stab in the dark as to why he’s upset.
You sigh, then remorsefully pick up the pieces of the report in your trashcan. This guy is your most difficult boss yet, but right now, you have no idea why. But you’re determined to decipher him, and finally get him to remember and call you by your actual name. He still keeps calling you by his previous assistant’s name – in all fairness to him, ‘Mephisto’ is a unique name, probably one he won’t forget for a long time. But did you even look like a ‘Mephisto’?
You’re busy trying to piece together the report again when you hear his door open. You frantically shove the report into a desk drawer and straighten up in your seat, your hands going to your keyboard, your eyes flicking from your screen to across the room. You watch Sylus as he breezes by your desk – the first two buttons of his shirt are already undone, his tie now hanging loosely around his neck. He’s done for the day.
“Don’t stay too late,” he mutters as he walks past you. You nod, watching tensely as he turns the corner, then you relax once he’s out of sight.
“Okay,” you murmur to yourself. “I’m going to conquer you, Mr. Qin. Just you wait.”
—
You spend the next few weeks studying Sylus closely in your meetings with him, and in larger ones with more attendees. You take note of when he nods approvingly, when he frowns, and when he smiles, which is rare. You make notes in your notebooks, and your reports, encouraging yourself not to get disheartened when he doesn’t like something. And then, you start receiving the nods and smiles yourself. The dopamine you get from seeing them hits like crazy, lighting up the reward centers of your brain, making you feel elated. You chase that high, almost ashamed that his little gestures can actually make you feel that way. You keep working to improve your reports – he likes it when it’s styled a certain way, he likes his summaries accessible on every page, he likes the totals in bold, and so on. Soon, you’re having productive meetings that last longer – he starts discussing the numbers with you instead of just taking the report from you, asking for your opinions on strategies. You feel like you’re on top of the world – you’ve finally won him over. He’s started calling you ‘Miss Assistant’ instead of ‘Mephisto’. A big win in your books. Hopefully, he’ll actually call you by your own name soon.
You start prepping your end of year report. It’s a big project, and more than just spreadsheets and figures. You’ll be helping him present it to the rest of the executive team. You start gathering the final reports from the other heads of department and collating them. You aggressively chase up anyone who hasn’t submitted what they need to, and you start spending longer hours at the office.
Sylus would exit his own office late at night to find you still frowning at your screen, scrutinizing the numbers. “Don’t stay too late,” is what he’d usually say. You’d nod again and again, promising him you’d head home soon. But he doesn’t believe you, and would narrow his eyes at you before heading off. One night, he hands you his credit card across your desk on his way out. “Get some dinner and order yourself a ride home,” he says sternly as you receive the card. He looks at the clock mounted on the wall. “I don’t want to find you here in the morning wearing the same thing.” You nod again, gripping his card tightly with both hands. It’s not a company credit card – it looks like it’s his personal one. It’s black and shiny, with his name engraved in it in silver. “Holy shit,” you breathe, immediately looking up restaurants nearby that do delivery on your computer. “I’m going to eat so good tonight.”
—
Sylus stares at you with his ruby red eyes, and it takes everything you have in you not to break eye contact. You’ve just spent the last twenty minutes presenting your report to him, along with the slideshow. You close the lid to your laptop with a soft snap and cradle it in your lap. You grip at the edges of it tightly – you’re still waiting for his feedback, and he’s taking his sweet time to give it to you. It’s killing you on the inside.
He looks down at the booklet on his desk, flicking through it once more, one hand on his jaw, his thumb rubbing his chin.
“Are these–”
“Broken down into quarters, months, then years, then daily.” Just the way he likes it.
“And are the–”
“Totals are at the bottom of each page then summarized again at the end of each section, then at the end of the whole report,” you ramble. “I think our figures look good this year, any way you look at it.”
He looks at you, an eyebrow raised.
“Thank you,” he tells you, closing the report in his hands. “This is great. I'd like you to email this to me as well."
You sigh in relief. Your hard work has paid off. He hasn’t given you a smile the entire meeting, but you’ll take his thanks as a good sign. He walks with you to his office door, guiding you on your way out.
You pause at the door, confirming some last few things for him.
“Sure, I'll send it over as a PDF? Would that be good?”
He nods, then leans against the frame of the doorway, looming over you slightly. You can smell his cologne. Your heart starts beating rapidly in your chest.
“Yes. Excellent work. Good girl.” He whispers the last two words, as if they’re meant for your ears only.
Your breath stops in your throat, a million thoughts running instantaneously through your head. Your cheeks feel warm, and you feel something stirring in the pit of your stomach. You scurry out of his office, throat dry, breaths shallow. You swear you can feel his eyes on the back of your head as you make your way back to your desk.
Did he just call you a good girl?
—
Sylus spends the rest of the day reading through the report and slideshow you had sent him. He doesn’t come out of his office the entire time, and you’re almost worried about him. You continue your work, but glance over to the frosted glass now and again. You’re still reeling from the last thing he said to you, and you’re trying to rationalize how you felt about it. The dopamine hit was unbelievable, but there was something else in there. Your mouth waters as you replay his voice in your head, remembering the way his breath felt as it reached the back of your neck. You shake your head, chalking it up to your desire for long overdue approval. Yeah, that’s it.
You swear you can see him pacing back and forth in his office. You try to stay as late as you can just in case he has any other questions for you. But this is about to be your first early night in the last few weeks. Your report is done and you can finally relax. The rest of your coworkers have already gone home, and the rest of the floor outside of your area is empty – not an unfamiliar sight for you. You consider packing up and going home when your desk phone rings. It’s Sylus’s extension.
“Mr. Qin?” you ask, picking up the receiver. “What do you need, sir?”
“Miss Assistant,” he says, softly from the other end of the line. “Can you come into my office? I just need to clarify some things with you before you head off for the night.”
“Of course.” You put the receiver down and stand from your desk, straightening out your clothes. You’ve learned to invest in clothing that doesn’t crumple easily – the white blouse and black pencil skirt combination is one of your timeless favorites.
You gather up the report from your desk again and head to Sylus’s office. You knock twice on the frosted glass before he answers. “Come in.”
You open the door and he watches as you walk in, taking his glasses off and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He leans back in his seat, folding his hands over his lap. You start to take your usual post in the seat in front of his desk, but he shakes his head and motions you to come over to his side of the desk. Sylus leans away from his laptop slightly, making space for you to stand beside him. You place the report beside his laptop, brace yourself against the edge of his desk, squinting at his screen.
“Help me understand how you got these numbers,” he murmurs, pointing at the bolded numbers on the spreadsheet.
“Well, these are from the months from last quarter,” you start to explain, clicking on different tabs. “This is revenue versus actual sales. Did you want a version of the report where these two are actually split up?”
You try to concentrate on the report, but you’re hyper-aware of how close you are to your boss. Your throat goes dry again as you inhale – it’s later in the day, so you can smell the slightest tinge of sweat coming from him, and it intermingles with the scent of his cologne. It’s almost intoxicating. You swallow, hoping he doesn’t notice how fast your breathing has gotten, or how shaky your hands are.
He leans forward, elbows on the desk, hand on his chin. His muscles strain against his white button-up shirt, and you take a peek down, noticing that his first two buttons are undone, and that you can see down the shirt. He’s not wearing an undershirt. You look away and back to the screen, mentally chastising yourself and your wandering eye. He’s your boss, he’s your boss, he’s hot as fuck, but he’s your boss…
“Show me how you’re going to do that,” Sylus tells you, leaning away from his laptop again.
You blink at him. “I mean… it might take a few minutes. I can work on it back at my desk and bring it back to you, if you want.”
“No, no,” he shakes his head. “We might as well bang it out now, while you’re here.”
You nod, and with trembling hands, you reach for his laptop again. You start clacking away at the keys, bent over the desk awkwardly while he watches you silently.
“You wanna take my seat?” he asks quietly.
It’s your turn to shake your head. “No, it’s okay.” You reach over for the paper report next to his laptop, and accidentally touch his hand. You take a risk. You let your fingers linger for a moment longer than what constitutes as an accidental touch before pulling away.
“Sorry,” you mutter, going for the paper report, hoping he doesn’t notice the flush taking over your cheeks. “Let me just flick through this quickly.”
“Don’t be,” he whispers, pushing his chair away from the desk. “Take a seat. I insist.” He leans back into his chair and spreads his legs, nodding down as an invitation. Holy fuck.
You bite your lip, your stomach doing countless flip flops in what seems to be the span of a few seconds. The rational side of your brain is telling you to run out of that office and not look back. The other side, the one you feed with inappropriate thoughts of your boss at ungodly hours of the night while you touch yourself is screaming back to take his offer – it’s louder and it’s winning.
Hoping that you don’t come across as too eager, you lower yourself down onto his lap as he scoots his chair back towards the desk. You settle yourself between his legs as he presses his chest up against your back. His breath washes over the back of your neck, making you shiver involuntarily.
“Good girl,” he breathes, his hands finding his way to your hips. You don’t have to check – you know your panties are soaked. “Now, talk me through how you calculate those totals.”
“Well, first,” you start, your voice cracking instantly. “I take the totals from this tab and add them to the formula.” His hands go from your hips and slide down your thighs as you click around on the screen. His fingers gather up your skirt, balling the material into his hands. “Oh god,” you murmur weakly.
“Keep going,” he commands, his lips finding a sensitive spot of skin on your neck. You moan reactively, and you can feel him smiling against your skin. “Don’t get distracted now.”
“Right,” you manage to croak. Your breaths become short and shallow, your eyes are barely able to focus. “I click on the totals for each month and–f-fuck…” You hiss as his hand travels up your inner thigh and finds the edge of your panties. He pushes them aside and slides two of his fingers up and down your slit – you can feel how wet you are and you have no doubt his fingers are covered in your slick.
“Focus,” he orders, but you can tell his restraint is slipping. “We don’t want you fudging the numbers. We could get into big trouble if you get this wrong.” You shift slightly in the seat, and feel something pressing up against your ass – he’s hard.
You gasp as he sucks on your neck and plunges his fingers into you simultaneously. You rock back into his groin, teasing his erection. He groans, his fingers sliding out of you. Your skirt is now bunched up around your hips, your underwear pushed to the side as Sylus fingers continue to work on you. Those slick sounds, your breathless gasps and his heavy breathing are audible throughout his office. You’re praying to whatever higher power there is that you were right in assuming everyone else in your office has already gone home. You feel like you’d die on the spot if anyone saw you like this.
“Finish the report,” he growls, fingers working faster. The one hand still holding your hip is now gripping you so tightly that you think it’s going to bruise. All you can do is nod in response. Your eyes start to blur as his fingers curl up inside of you – the closer you are to finishing the bar graph you started, the closer you get to finishing. You feel it building as you highlight the cells, and your core starts to tighten. You grit your teeth as he grinds up onto your ass, and as soon as you complete the graph, you brace yourself against the desk and clench around his fingers, trying to muffle your moans with your forearm.
“Good girl,” Sylus sighs, pulling his fingers out of you. You pant as he slides your underwear down your legs, and he bends down to make sure they don’t get caught in the pumps you’re wearing. “Cute,” he comments, hanging them over his laptop screen, covering the report you were working on. “We’ll just keep these here.”
If your cheeks weren’t hot before, then they are now for sure. You look down and you see that you’ve made an absolute mess of yourself all over his trousers. You lean back into his chest and look up at him. “Can I… do anything else for you?”
You see desire flash across his eyes briefly before he smirks at you. “Yes. Can you get under the desk?”
You nod, knowing where this is going already. He pushes his chair back to make room for you, and you kneel in front of him, hands on his knees. He unbuckles his belt and pushes his trousers and underwear down, his erection springs up and touches his stomach. Without waiting for him to ask, you take him into your hand and begin to lick at him, using your saliva to make it slippery.
“Taking initiative. I like that,” he chuckles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
Sylus hisses as you take small kitten licks at his tip, tossing his head back onto his seat’s headrest. You take as much as you can of him into your mouth, and he groans, bucking his hips up, filling you up all the way to the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you gag on him, but you force yourself to take it. You can feel the wetness building up between your legs, and you clench your thighs to relieve some of the pressure. You’re pretty sure you’re dripping onto the carpet. He grips your hair as you start to move up and down, holding onto the base of his shaft as you do so.
You look up at him, his crimson eyes glazed over with lust as they meet yours. He grunts your name, and you feel even more aroused hearing him say it – he finally knows your name. He thrusts up into your mouth repeatedly, but before he can finish, he pulls you off of him by your hair, and you release him with a loud pop. You gasp for air, rocking back on your heels, both of you breathing heavy as he smirks down at you.
“Come back up.” He extends a hand to you, and you take it – he pulls you up from under the desk, his hand hovering over your head so you don’t hit it on the edge. As soon as you’re upright again, he sweeps a hand across his desk and all the papers on it fly off of it. You look at him, eyes wide, and he gives you another smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with that later.”
“I can help,” you start to offer, but his hands wrap around your waist, and he hoists you up onto the desk. You let out a small, shocked yelp, but his lips are on yours, muffling any protest you were about to make. The kiss is deep, ravenous, almost swallowing you whole. You want to come up for air, but don’t want to break away from him. Your hands are in his hair while his wander up your waist and your back. He guides you to lay down onto the desk, his lips never leaving yours.
“Give me a moment,” he murmurs, breaking away from you. He looks down at you lying across his desk, your chest heaving up and down with heavy pants, your skirt now pushed up to your waist. “Do you want to keep going?” He asks, his hand gripping the edge of the desk.
You nod, but he frowns at you. “Use your words.”
“Yes, Sylus,” you breathe. “Please. I want to keep going.”
He grins at you. “Very well. Be patient for a few seconds.” You see him open up a desk drawer, and hear him rummaging through it. You hear the ripping of a foil packet, and he’s silent for several seconds – you assume he’s putting some protection on.
“You’ve done so well,” he croons the praise, as his attention returns to you. He slides himself up and down your slit, teasing at your entrance. You whine, and buck your hips upwards, your back arching away from the desk. “Do you want this? Tell me you want this.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you breathe, hands reaching for his forearms. “I want this. I want this so bad.”
He lines himself up at your entrance, and you place your hand over him, guiding him in. He slides into you effortlessly, and you let out a small gasp as you see a shudder run down his body. “Fuck,” he gasps, rocking his hips slightly. “You’re so tight.”
He leans down, hands on your hips, thrusting in and out of you slowly. You meet his thrusts, your hands gripping his forearms, transfixed on him sliding in and out.
“I’m going to go faster, okay?” he tells you, already quickening his pace. You nod, your hands wrapping around his neck, hanging onto him as the desk shakes with his thrusts.
Your legs wrap around his hips, and you hook your ankles together, bringing him closer to you as he continues. You’re past caring about how loud your moans are – you’re sure they can be heard in the offices across the floor. But then you remember that his office is soundproof. Thank god. His grunts, mixed with the sound of your skin slapping against each other, drive you crazy. You feel your orgasm building at the pit of your core again, and by the way Sylus’s movements are becoming more erratic, you can tell that he’s close too.
“Let’s finish this together, okay?” he rasps, hitting you in that spot that makes you see stars. You nod, and his thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circular movements into it. This pushes you over the edge.
“Sylus, please I’m–fuck–I’m–I’m–” You don’t get to finish your statement. Your legs tighten around his torso as you clench around him, your whole body shuddering. Your clenching brings him to finishing too, and he grunts loudly, thrusting into you one final time before collapsing on top of you.
The sound of your pants fills the room, and for the next few moments, that’s all you can focus on. He lifts himself slowly and gingerly pulls himself out of you. He turns himself away while he fixes himself back up, and you can hear him throw something into the trashcan under his desk. He then turns back towards you, but reaches over to the far corner of his desk behind his laptop. He plucks a few tissues out from the tissue box, and starts wiping at your legs.
You sit up quickly and attempt to take the tissues from him. “Mr. Qin, you don’t have to do that.”
He pulls the tissues away from you, an eyebrow raised. “Why did we go back to ‘Mr. Qin’? As if you weren’t screaming at me by my first name before.”
Your lips clamp shut as you let him wipe you down, noticing how gentle he is. “Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Sylus.”
He pauses in his wiping and he looks up at you with a soft smile. A genuine smile. The first you might have ever seen from him. You blink at him before giving him a smile in return. He finishes cleaning you up and helps you hop down from the desk. You fix your skirt, and quickly snatch your underwear from where he had tossed it.
You’re still sitting on the edge of his desk when he leans towards you again, his hands gripping the desk, next to where yours are. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, and you feel something stir in your stomach again, but it feels different this time.
“You did so well today,” he whispers against your skin. “What a good girl.” He leans away from you, and you have to fight the urge to kiss him again. He reaches out and runs his hand through your hair, fixing the parts that got messed up in your tryst. “And good girls deserve rewards. How does dinner and drinks sound? Maybe tomorrow night?”
“Sounds good,” you reply, feeling giddy. “Right after we finish this report. End of day tomorrow.”
you and sylus have this game of sneaking up on each other and slapping each other's asses when you least expect it... you manage to get to him while he's busy in the armory and you give him the juiciest crispest slap that echoes throughout the room... he turns around slowly, rubbing at his ass cheek and he makes eye contact with someone behind you and you turn as well and see the twins there just standing like 🧍♂️🧍♂️ with some weapons in their hands... luke is trying not to laugh while kieran goes "damn boss, there was some... recoil... in that..."
being with sylus is probably just a cycle of both of you relentlessly ragebaiting each other. like ridicuouls teasing jabs that aren't malicious, but ones that would definitely elicit reactions. and both of you have practiced your poker faces to the point where your expressions just stay blank, not wanting to give each other the satisfaction of letting the other know that their baiting was successful. your statements just becoming more and more outrageous, and there are times where you wonder if you have gone too far.
"sylus, i'm sure we've seen this movie before. i'm pretty sure i watched it with you. don't you remember?"
"nope. not me. i've never seen this movie. you've probably seen it with your other devilishly handsome husband whom you have an eternal spiritual bond with. you've probably shot him in the chest before with a handgun and enjoyed it too huh. i bet you resonate better with him. yeah, he's probably seen this movie."
you're keeping a straight face while flicking through the movie selection on the TV, ignoring his remarks. meanwhile luke and kieran are exchanging concerned looks, wondering if this kind of dialogue is normal between you, and questioning if it's okay for them to be there listening to it.
you needing a white noise machine to be able to sleep right up until you start spending the night with sylus... you asking him if it's okay for you to set it up and he asks you what it's for and you just tell him you need some background noise to sleep... then he tells you he has something better in mind... he cradles you in his arms, lips pressed up against your ear and hums you a lullaby while holding you... then when HE falls asleep, his soft snoring is all you need as background noise, and you're able to sleep much more soundly than you do with your white noise machine
You push the packet aside, continuing to search through Sylus’s pantry. You rummage through the packets of food, trying to search for a snack that will satiate you. So far, you’ve turned your nose up at the packets you’ve seen. You reach for a packet of instant noodles – you’re tempted to make them, but you want to be as quiet as possible. You don’t want to risk waking Sylus. It’s well past the time you should have been home, but you had too much to do at work. At least you have the next morning off.
You sigh, pushing away the packet of instant noodles. Maybe another time. You see a packet of what you think could be potato chips at the back of the shelf, and you tug at it. To your horror, the packets in front of it come along with it, and they fall off the pantry shelf, tumbling to the ground, taking a few cans with them. You wince as they land on the floor, sounding like a drumset being played. So much for being quiet.
You start to tidy your mess up when you hear footsteps approaching the kitchen, bare feet padding on the marble floor. Shit. You’ve woken him.
You hurriedly scoop the packets up in your arms, attempting to put them all back in the pantry as quickly as you can before he gets to you.
“Kitten? What are you doing?”
You straighten up, packets still in your arms, and face Sylus, who has entered the kitchen. He’s dressed in just shorts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looks at the food still in your arms, and he raises his eyebrows. “You must be hungry.”
“Just a little,” you chuckle nervously. You start to return the food to the pantry, and he helps you pick up the rest off the floor. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Yes,” he yawns, reaching for a can. “It sounded like Mephisto was fighting with a raccoon in here.”
You laugh at his quip, and the packet of pitted prunes slips out of your hand. He manages to catch it before it falls to the floor, then places it back on the shelf. He then stares at the hand that had dropped the packet, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“Your hand... it’s trembling.”
You try to covertly place it behind your back, away from his line of vision. Damn. It’s one of your telltale signs that your blood sugar is low. And he knows it.
Sylus reaches behind you and takes your hand, pulling it closer to him. “How long has it been since your last meal?” he asks, his voice low.
“Um,” you start, trying to come up with an answer that would satisfy him without lying. “I had a bite of a sandwich a few hours ago.”
He presses his lips into a tight line, shaking his head. He stares at you, trying to force more information out of you.
“Well, it was a hectic day at work,” you start your ramble. “Out on missions, writing up reports, I was out and about almost the whole day. I didn’t have the chance to sit down and eat.”
You’re hoping he’ll let it go and just let you look for a snack, but instead, he sighs, and reaches for the instant noodles that you were eyeing.
“Go sit at the counter,” he instructs you.
You swallow, and do as he says, hopping up on one of the bar stools. He reaches for a snack on a higher shelf – a packet of popcorn. He rips it open and places it on the counter in front of you. He then pulls an apple from the fruit bowl, then gathers together a chopping board and a knife. He slices the apple into eighths, gutting out the core, then lays it out on a small plate.
“Have these while I get this ready,” he says, putting on water to boil in a pot.
You munch on your popcorn and apple and watch him as he starts to cook. He prepares the instant noodles, tearing the packet open, placing the seasonings into the pot along with the noodles. While the noodles cook, he whips out a frying pan and drizzles oil onto it. He then heads to the fridge and takes two eggs out, both of which he cracks into the pan. He seasons them with salt and pepper, and leaves them to cook. Once the noodles are ready, he pours them out of the pot and into a bowl along with their broth. He then takes the eggs off of the frying pan and slides them on top of the noodles. He goes to the fridge again, retrieving spring onions this time. He chops them up finely, then sprinkles them onto the eggs.
“Eat,” he says simply, sliding the bowl and a pair of chopsticks towards you. Your mouth waters as the smell wafts up into your nostrils. You immediately dig in, slurping up noodles, not caring in the least how messy you look at that moment.
Sylus watches you with a satisfied smile on his face, his elbow propped up on the counter, his chin in his hand. You devour the eggs in a few bites, almost burning your tongue in the process.
“Slow down, Sweetheart, you’ll get indigestion,” Sylus laughs, watching you barely get through your mouthfuls before taking on more bites.
You listen to him and take the time to chew, being careful not to choke on your food. You savor the taste of it, chewing deliberately through each bite. You suddenly feel tired. So tired. Your hunger, exhaustion and the realization that Sylus gotten up in the middle of the night to cook for you while being shirtless all hits you at the same time. You don’t realize it, but tears start to flow down your cheeks as you continue to eat. He reaches out to push your hair away from your face and wipe at your tears with his thumb as you chew.
“Thank you,” you mumble through the food, sniffling as you pick up more noodles with your chopsticks.
Sylus continues to caress your face as you finish your noodles, whispering his reply. “You’re welcome.”
