୨୧ ― Caleb has spent his entire adolescence and young adulthood rejecting every admirer who threw themselves at him- returning their homemade lunches, turning down their confessions, never once letting anyone get close enough to touch him like that.
He was too focused. Too loyal. Too busy dreaming about the girl who'd grown up beside him, the one whose birthday made up half of his passwords.
His girl.
And now, finally, after all this time, he has you exactly where he's dreamed of you for almost a decade- beneath him, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes.
God, she's really here. She's really letting me-
His internal thought cuts off when he hears your sweet voice.
"C-Caleb-," you whine pitifully, fat tears beginning to bead along your lower lashes as you squirm beneath him in his apartment you've slowly been turning into a home... "I- I don't think-"
"What's wrong?" He sounds almost boyish in his confusion, purple eyes soft with concern as he brushes sweaty hair from your forehead, "Did I do something-"
"S'too big."
He blinks, tilting his head like the adorable idiot he is, "I'm... no, I'm sure I'm average? I mean, I haven't really compared, but…" his words trail off…
Caleb can do nothing but stare...
How your poor little cunt is struggling, quivering, lips stretched obscenely trying to swallow the first few inches of him...
His length is ridiculous- he realizes that now with sudden, dawning clarity, watching nearly half of his shaft still jutting out from where your bodies meet.
Despite how wet he's gotten you with his fingers and tongue and desperate grinding- despite the slick mess coating your inner thighs, the way you'd gushed around two of his knuckles, the way you'd soaked his chin when he'd eaten you out… you're still barely able to take him.
He'd always assumed those whispered comments from classmates back in high school were idle gossip. Locker room flattery he was too humble to believe -even now during showers on the fleet-. Girls giggling behind cupped hands, guys clapping his shoulder with that knowing look...
But now-
Fuck.
Now he understands as he watches you try to adjust.
Watching how your belly flutters with each shallow breath, watching your thighs tremble where they're spread wide around his hips. Watching the visible bulge of himself pressing up against the soft give of your lower stomach when he sinks another inch deeper and you let out this broken little whimper that makes his balls tighten.
He's ruining you. Reshaping you. Your tight little hole wasn't built for this, wasn't made for a cock this fat, this long, this mean- and he can't decide if the thought makes him want to pull out and apologize or grab your hips and bury himself to the hilt just to watch you fall apart.
"Shh, shh, hey." His voice has dropped low, rougher than you've ever heard it, and there's something dark flickering in those usually playful eyes. That possessive edge he's hidden for years, now surfacing as he stares down at where his thick cockhead is trying desperately to sink into your fluttering hole, "I've waited so long for this, Pips... For you. We're going to make it fit, okay? I'll take care of you, just like i always have."
His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that threatened to spill. So gentle. So caring. So him.
And then his other hand pins your hip to the mattress as he snaps forward, burying every fat inch inside you in one brutal thrust.
"AHHH- CALEB!!" Your scream tears through his quiet apartment, back arching clean off the sheets as your cunt is forced to stretch around him, walls clenching and spasming helplessly against the intrusion.
It's too much -he's too much-, splitting you open on a cock that has no business being attached to a man who watches you like that. All soft, starving devotion. A loyal pup at the feet of its goddess, even while he wrecks you.
"Pips- oh, fuck, there we go," Caleb groans, and his voice is absolutely wrecked, those pretty eyes rolling back slightly as he bottoms out. His pelvis grinds against yours, the root of him stuffed so deep you can feel him in your goddamn stomach. "You're so tight- shit, is it always like this? Is this-"
"Y-you're my f-first too, you idiot," you sob, and something breaks in his expression.
First. I'm her first. She waited for me too.
"Oh, Pipsqueak," he breathes, and now both hands are cradling your face while his hips stay perfectly still to let you adjust. His cock twitches inside you, and you keen. "My sweet girl. I didn't know. I didn't-" He drops his forehead to yours, breath ragged, "I thought- I would've been gentler, I would've-"
"N'just-" You gulp for air, body quaking, "just stay still. M'need to -hah- adjust"
He nods, pressing apologetic kisses all over your tear stained face while his massive length pulses inside your stretched out cunt. But even as he soothes you, that darker part of his mind is calculating.
If I keep her on my cock long enough... if I fuck her through it over and over... her body will learn. She'll mold to me. Only me. She won't be able to take anyone else after this...
Good.
And when your walls finally relax enough for him to move, rolling his hips in a slow, devastating grind that makes your eyes roll back... Caleb learns something else about himself that night...
Cw: Smut. Oral. P in V. Thigh riding. Size kink. Panty sniffer Caleb Jealous Xavier. It includes links to 🌽 videos on X for visual examples on what was sent. 🔞 MDNI🔞
Sylus/Xavier/Rafayel/Zayne/Caleb
Yeah*sigh*I'm ovulating again. Enjoy 😝
Part 2 here When they accidentally send you a porn link...
The blue light of your phone screen is the only thing cutting through the darkness of your bedroom. You really should have been asleep an hour ago, instead, you’re spiraling down a rabbit hole you didn't even know existed.
Size kink.
You’d never really thought about it before, not until you started dating Sylus and tonight you were just scrolling, looking for something to satisfy the empty ache Sylus left all week.
This video is something you had never seen before or even thought was possible. You watch, mesmerized by the way the woman’s stomach subtly shifts a visible bulge as he stretches her out.
Heat pools instantly between your thighs, making your breath hitch and a dizzying sensation of fullness hit your gut. He's always so careful with you, so agonizingly gentle, as if you’re something precious he might break if he breathes too hard. But looking at this... a dark part of your brain wonders what it would feel like if he didn't hold back.
"Holy shit..." you whisper to the empty room.
Your hand moves instinctively, fingers sliding down to find slick heat. The video is playing on a loop. Bulge. Stretch. Deep. Repeat. You watch it while your imagination runs wild, replacing the stranger on the screen with the man who owns your heart. You’re picturing his heavy weight pinning you down, his eyes blown wide, filling you until you can’t even scream.
You’re chasing a peak that feels miles away until, suddenly, it isn't. You hit your first orgasm with a stifled gasp, back arching off the mattress, only to find yourself immediately chasing the second one, body trembling and spent in the wake of the first.
By the time the second wave of pleasure ebbs away, you’re a puddle of limbs and heavy eyelids. You’re half conscious, drifting in that beautiful limbo between wakefulness and dreams. In a daze of post orgasmic euphoria, you squint at the screen, your thumb hovering over the comment section.
"How do I send him this without actually sending it to him 😳"
You tap 'send' with a clumsy thumb. You meant to just post it as a thought, a digital scream into the void. But as your eyes flutter shut, your hand twitches a final, involuntary spasm of exhausted muscle. Your thumb slips. It slides across the 'Share' icon, hovers over the very first contact at the top of your recent list, and taps.
Sent.
You don't hear the subtle whoosh of the outgoing message. Delivered directly to the man who at this very moment is probably staring at a security feed or sipping red wine.
Sylus.
You just fall into a deep, blissful sleep, completely unaware that you've just lit a fuse.
“Come on, sweetie, don’t give up on me now" Thrust. The impact is heavy, forcing a breathless gasp from your lungs. “You can take it, can’t you?”
He isn't being the gentle, careful man you know. Not today. His hand is hooked firmly behind your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, forcing you to watch the unmistakable, fat bulge stretching the skin of your lower abdomen, proof to just how deep he’s buried himself inside you.
“You wanted this, now you have to take it and you are going to watch.”
And there it is. The reality of it. It’s visceral. It’s exactly what you saw in that video, but it’s a thousand times more intense because it’s him. It’s real.
Your vision swima and just as the shock of it all starts to settle, he shifts. He changes the angle of his hips in a calculated move that hits your G spot dead on. An uninhibited scream tears from your throat, echoing through the room.
“I've been trying to behave,” he says, and the words come out rougher than he probably intended, an edge of frustration bleeding through his usual composure “But you make it so difficult... fuck... by sending me your filthy little thoughts.”
His hand settles against your belly, firm and heavy, and the second he presses down, your body reacts with a sharp inhale. You tense instinctively, muscles coiling around him, but you don't pull away. You can't.
“Can you feel me here?” he asks, breath coming in uneven bursts. He’s buried balls deep and for a split second, you see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. You make a face, a strange, overwhelmed expression of fullness, and he looks like he might actually pull back to give you a moment to breathe. He thinks he’s pushing too hard.
He’s wrong.
Don't you dare.
Driven by a desperation you didn't know you possessed, you move your hips in a searching rhythm, pressing his hand down harder against your stomach. You want the pressure. You want to feel the exact point where he meets your skin from the inside.
He lets out a loud groan at the sensation. Your narrow walls clamp down on him, tighter than they've ever been. Every millimeter of space between you feels like it’s disappearing, leaving nothing but friction and heat.
You don't have the words to tell him that you never want him to stop, so your body does the talking. You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he holds you there, keeping you exactly where you are until your breathing turns unsteady.
Until your body softens in momentary surrender and tightens again a second later, as if you're fighting a war with yourself, trying to decide whether to let go or to hold on tighter.
In the end, you don't choose. You do both.
The world dissolves into a hot haze of pleasure. It couldn't be called an orgasm because this feels like a total system failure. You’re sobbing his name or maybe you’re just gasping for air, you can’t tell anymore as waves of pleasure crash over you, violent and unrelenting. Your pussy seizes around him in long pulses, milking him, begging for the very thing that’s pushing you past your limit.
He follows you a few seconds later, burying himself soooo deep you feel the hot rush of him filling you.
Slowly, the fog begins to lift, leaving you in a state of blissful, heavy lethargy. The hand that was just pressing so ruthlessly into your belly softens, fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.
"You really are a menace." he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.
The shame you expected to feel, the embarrassment of that accidental video is nowhere to be found. Instead, there is only a sense of immense satisfaction.
"Next time," he whispers into your hair "don't bother sending a link. Just tell me. I'll give you everything you desire. Every single time."
The problem with being in love with a man like Xavier is that your brain is constantly a minefield of "what ifs."
He’s incredible, truly, but you’ve noticed the way he pulls back sometimes. When he’s brooding or when that possessive jealousy starts to prickle at him, he becomes almost too careful. Like he’s afraid he might actually break you if he lets go of that restraint.
So, naturally, you’ve been doing a little "research" to keep the inspiration alive.
Now, you’re sitting on the edge of your bathtub, scrolling through your feed, a habit that’s becoming a bit of a vice, when a video catches your eye. A girl pinned to a mattress, her head pressed down by her partner as he fucks her from behind. Hard. The sound of her moans echoes in your ears through your headphones and suddenly the bathroom feels about ten degrees too hot.
God, yes.
You quickly save the link to your "later" folder, a digital stash of things you want him to eventually try, and then scribble a quick, thirsty comment on the video "This but with my boyfriend dressed as Lumiere 🤤 " and set your phone down.
Buzz. Buzz.
A notification lights up the screen. It’s him.
[Xavier]: Found a new hot pot place. Apparently, the broth is spicy enough to kill a Wanderer. Want to go tonight? Please say yes so I can stop thinking about food and start thinking about you.
A soft laugh escapes you. He’s so predictable, yet so devastatingly charming when he wants to be. Your answer is an immediate "sure" because you’d say yes to a lukewarm bowl of water if he was the one serving it.
But he always forgets to look at the menu and ends up ordering something way too spicy or something you're not in the mood for, so you look for the restaurant's menu.
You see the link. Tap it. Copy. Paste. Add "Look at the options! The spicy broth looks insane." Send.
Funny thing is, you don't actually copy the menu's URL, you just cut it. You don't even realize you just sent him the very un culinary link to the video you were just watching to fuel your own delusions.
Little typing bubbles appear. They dance for a long time. They disappear. They reappear.
He's so indecisive.
⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
"Lumiere?" the name sounds like a curse "You wanted Lumiere to pin you down?"
Your face is pressed so firmly into the mattress that the fabric feels like a part of your own skin, the scent of laundry detergent mixing with the heat of the moment. Every time he thrusts into you, the world tilts, your vision blurring into white light and dark shadows. The Xavier who kisses your forehead and cuddles with you is buried somewhere deep inside the man currently fucking you breathless.
"Xavie..." you try to speak, but his name dies in your throat as he shifts his weight.
"Tell me," he demands, losing the battle with his own restraint. He hits you hard, a deep, soul shaking thrust that forces a broken moan from your lips. "Tell me you don't need a costume to feel this."
You try to answer, to tell him he's being ridiculous...
Smack!
The sting of his palm against your ass makes you gasp, your fingers clawing at the mattress for purchase.
"You sent it to me on purpose," he mutters as he leans down, his chest pressing hard against your back. "You wanted to see me like this, didn't you? You wanted to see if I could be as rough as him."
He doesn't want an answer. He doesn't wait for one. He just wants to hear you whimper his name when he hits that perfect spot.
His hand presses your face down even harder into the mattress, muffling your cries. It's everything you were craving when you were scrolling through your phone earlier, but the reality is a thousand times better.
You start to move, trying to meet him halfway, trying to grind back against him to find the friction that will push you over the edge.
"Faster..." you beg, trying to turn your head to tell him that there is no Lumiere, there is only him, but he just presses you back down, his thumb grazing your hip bone with trembling pressure.
"Shhhhhh, just a little bit more," he lets out a long groan, his forehead dropping to rest against the back of your neck for a fleeting second before he surges upward again. "You should see the way your pussy is taking my cock right now, so greedy. Just for me."
His hand shifts. It leaves the back of your head to find the column of your throat. His thumb and middle finger curl around your neck not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he is in total control.
He stills for a heartbeat, his middle finger softly tapping the pulsing vein in your neck. "Every beat belongs to me tonight"
You just nod, a jerky movement, because you are standing on the very edge of a precipice, and the fall is coming. The tension in your lower belly is wound so tight it’s almost painful.
"Say it," he breathes, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his words a warm, humid ghost of a sensation, his control fraying at the edges.
"Yours," you finally whisper, like secret you’ve been holding in your lungs for far too long, finally allowed to breathe.
The moment the word leaves your lips, he loses the last of his mercy.
He pulls back almost entirely, leaving you aching and empty for a fraction of a second only to drive back in, bottomless and bruising. It’s a cycle of withdrawal and overwhelming fullness that leaves you reeling.
"Give me what's mine" the command vibrates through your entire body.
The world dissolves into white light as your head falls forward, muscles spasming in the violent quake of your climax, but he catches your hair, tugging just enough to force your head up, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark and swirling with a hunger that could swallow the stars.
"Good girl," he whispers against your parted, trembling lips.
He thrusts one last time, deep and final, spilling molten heat as your name breaks from his lips, torn in half by bliss before he presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. For now, the jealousy is gone. There is only the quiet, heavy reality of being his.
The video catches your eye instantly. The lighting is a soft purple, casting a surreal glow over the two people on screen. A girl is on top, her movements slow and agonizingly deliberate as she drags her pussy over her partners cock, the rhythm of it making your cunt clench.
Tonight you are in a "no filter" mood. You need to share this. You need to tell Tara.
With a smirk, you tap the share icon, copy the link, and switch over to your messages. You find Tara’s profile pic or so you think and start typing with the kind of unhinged energy only a best friend can appreciate.
You and Tara have long since abandoned the concept of "boundaries" when it comes to your filthy late night chats.
“Omg Tara, look at this. Raf’s cock is so pretty, I swear if he’d just let me do this to him, I’d never leave the bedroom again 🥵💦”
You hit send with a satisfied whoosh and let out a long, dramatic sigh. Silence follows. For a few minutes you go back to scrolling, blissfully unaware that you have just dropped a digital bomb into the inbox of a man who is already struggling to maintain his composure.
Your phone vibrates.
It’s not a "LOL" or a "Damn" from Tara.
It’s a notification from Rafayel.
Rafayel: Is that so?
Your heart skips a beat. You frown, squinting at the name at the top of the chat.
Wait.
Your face goes from pale to a shade of red that would put a sunset to shame. You stare at the screen, wanting to physically crawl inside the phone and disappear forever. You want to delete it. You want to throw the phone out the window. You want to move to a different planet.
But then, the little typing bubbles appear again.
Rafayel: Don't just sit there blushing, cutie. I'm coming to your place and you are going to show me exactly what you want"
🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧 🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧🫧
You’ve lost track of time. Your thighs are starting to ache, every muscle in your legs feels tight, strained from holding yourself upright, yet you keep moving. You have to. The friction is the only thing keeping you grounded.
You’re straddling him, your knees digging into the soft linens, focused on the way your cunt drags over his cock. Slippery. Hot. Wet.
Every time you slide down, the underside of him, that thick ridge presses ruthlessly against your clit. You can feel the vein running along his length pulse in perfect synch with your clit.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
"Slow down..." he groans, gripping your hips "You're going to... fuuuuck... you're going to kill me"
The friction is creating a heat of its own, a sliding friction that makes your head spin. You watch slightly delirious, as the light from the moon filters through the window, catching the sheen of sweat on his pale skin and the way his hair is plastered to his forehead. He looks wrecked. He looks beautiful. He looks like he belongs entirely to you.
But his hands are far from weak. They are heavy weights anchored to your hips, and he uses them to sabotage you. Just when you think you’ve found a rhythm that might actually save you, he tightens his grip, forcing your hips to slow, dragging the slide of your pussy out into a long, shallow glide.
It’s cruel. A sadistic kind of torture, making the night feel endless, as if the clock has stopped just to watch you suffer.
He wants to stretch this out. He wants to milk every drop of anticipation from your veins until your entire body begins to tremble, not from pleasure, but from the weight of the climax that refuses to arrive. He wants to push you to that edge where even your silence sounds filthy, where the quiet between your breaths is thick with the unspoken things you want to do to him.
Once he’s satisfied with the slow pace, his hands begin to wander. They trace the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the swell of your breasts, learning your body the way a sinner learns to pray. Like hunger learning the art of restraint just long enough to make the eventual feast mean something.
You slide back just a fraction, settling the heat of your pussy directly over his balls and then you reach down.
Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, just like you saw in that video. You begin to stroke him while simultaneously rotating your hips in a circular grind over the heavy fullness of his balls.
The sound that tears from his throat is something unhuman, a vibration that feels like it's coming from the depths of the ocean.
Your name is caught between his teeth in a soft, sinful exhale. He sounds undone, completely unraveled by the sight of you taking exactly what you claimed you wanted in that accidental text.
He’s right there, on the edge of an unravelling collapse.
And because you are just like him, a creature of beautiful, chaotic impulse, you don't let him have it. Not yet.
You release his cock, hand slipping away just as the tension reaches its peak, and drag your soaked cunt back up the entire length of him in one loooong slide.
It feels like a collision of two fires.
In your desperation to feel everything you let your entire weight drop. The clench of your pussy as you cum wraps around the underside of his cock, squeezing him with a force that leaves him absolutely helpless.
He has no choice but to follow you into the fire.
Spurts of his cum paint the pale skin of his stomach, the liquid warmth spreading in thick, white streaks, pooling in his belly button.
For a few seconds, neither of you moves. There is only the sound of your breathing and the humid scent of your shared exhaustion.
“Was that pretty enough for you, cutie?” he teases, though his hand trembles slightly as he reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers on your cheek, like he’s constantly checking to make sure you haven't vanished into the night. "Or do we need to do it again?"
It’s late, way past the time Zayne would usually be nudging you to sleep but he’s still tucked away in his office, probably buried under a mountain of medical charts or surgical reports.
Your eyes are glued to your phone screen, watching a VIDEO of a girl grinding against a man’s thigh, bodies pressed together, his hands steady even as she buries her face in the crook of his neck. The guy in the video is wearing pajamas that look disturbingly similar to the ones Zayne is wearing right now.
Suddenly, the empty space in your bed feels a little too vast, your mind drifting to the office down the hall, aching to be that girl, to climb onto his Zayne's lap while he’s buried in medical charts and just... fuck yourself stupid.
You want to reach down and touch yourself but you’re a loud sleeper and an even louder moaner. If you start now, there’s no way he won't hear you through the walls, and you aren't quite ready for that kind of intimacy yet. So, you settle for a bit of digital venting. With a flushed face, you type out a quick comment on the video: "God, I wish I could do this while he's working..."
You go to save the link to your "Filthy Things" folder for a proper session tomorrow morning, but just as your thumb hovers over the screen, your phone starts vibrating. It’s Simone. She’s calling, probably to gossip about something trivial. In your rush to swipe the call and answer her, your finger taps the wrong folder.
And because Zayne is a man who is always, always connected to his devices for work... he’s going to see the notification the exact second it pops up.
🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺 🩺
It didn't take long. After that little "digital accident," the silence between you two wasn't awkward so much as it was heavy. Charged. He didn't even tease you about the comment. He didn't even blush. He just looked at you with those piercing eyes, a tiny, knowing quirk at the corner of his mouth, and silently commanded you to come to him.
And now, here you are. Perched on his lap, doing the same thing you saw on that video. Your lower half is completely bare, your thighs hugging his muscular one as you press yourself flush against him.
The friction is driving you completely insane.
Zayne, however, is a man of terrifying discipline.
His left hand is braced on your lower back, while his right hand moves across his keyboard. He’s actually working. He’s reviewing files, typing out notes, behaving as if you aren't currently trying to melt into his lap. Every so often, he’ll pause, not to stop you, but to lean in. His breath, cool and smelling faintly of mint, brushes against the shell of your ear, sending a violent shiver down your spine.
"Ah... Zayne..." you whimper against his neck as you press yourself harder against him. The sound is loud, far too loud for his quiet office and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.
"Hush now," he doesn't even look away from the monitor, though you notice the slight tightening of his jaw. "I need to focus. These reports won't write themselves."
He’s being difficult. He’s being a tease. And you love him for it.
You try to be "good." You force yourself to still when he has to write something long on his computer. You sit there, trembling slightly, waiting for him to acknowledge the havoc you're wreaking on his concentration.
A moment passes. The only sound is the soft click clack of the keyboard. Then, you feel his hand slide from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction of an inch closer, a subtle command for you to keep going.
"Good girl," he whispers, the words a warm caress against your ear.
His expression is completely professional, but the way his fingers linger on your skin tells a completely different story. He’s still working, yes but he’s also letting you feel exactly how much of a distraction you really are.
Every time your thighs tense up, every time you desperately bite your lower lip to stifle a moan that threatens to shatter the silence, the air thickens with indecency.
He’s struggling. You aren't blind. You can feel the insistent twitch of his cock beneath you, reacting to every open mouthed kiss you press against the pulse of his neck, the sharp line of his collarbone, and the smooth expanse of his Adam's apple. He’s trying to maintain that surgeon’s calm, but his body is betraying him with every shuddering breath you take.
You’re right on the edge. Your clit is catching perfectly against the fabric of his pajamas, the material already damp and clinging to you from the amount of arousal you're leaking.
"Look at me."
His voice cuts through the air, forcing your gaze up. He wants to see the exact moment your eyes glaze over, the moment your breath hitches and tells the truth that your lips are trying so hard to hide.
When his hand slides up to cup your jaw, it isn't the gentle, comforting touch you're used to during a quiet movie on the couch. It's different. It's possessive. It’s a disciplined kind of dominance, a reminder that while he is the composed Zayne in the daylight, there is a much darker man caged behind that professional composure and you are the only one who knows how to let him out.
"You are close, aren't you, love?" he whispers, his lips hovering so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his breath.
You can barely manage a nod, your lungs feeling too small for the air you're trying to pull in. You're breathing directly into his slightly parted mouth.
"Cum for me, then," he exhales, a rare flush creeping up his cheeks, betraying just how much this is affecting him too.
He shifts his thigh, bouncing it up and down in a rhythmic motion that catches your clit perfectly.
The world tilts. You feel your eyes lose focus and you can't tell if it's the shaking of your limbs or the pounding of your heart that's making you tremble so violently.
"Zaynie... Zayne..."
His name becomes your entire vocabulary, there are no words left, only the sound of his name on your lips and the crashing sensation of finally, finally letting go.
You are flicking through a never ending stream of mindless clips and memes. It’s supposed to be a quiet afternoon, just a bit of scrolling to kill the time until Caleb comes back, but then there...
A VIDEO pops up. It’s not your usual aesthetic travel vlog or a cooking hack.
You freeze, your heart doing a weird, little skip in your chest. You know you should probably swipe past it, but your eyes are glued to the screen. It’s a girl, her lace panties completely drenched. The guy in the video isn't even taking them off, he’s just sliding the tip of his cock against her through the wet lace.
A sudden warmth blooms deep in your belly, spreading down until it feels like you’re melting into the cushions. God, you’ve been craving that. The teasing, the slow, agonizing buildup. You’ve spent so much money on delicate, expensive little sets, thinking maybe Caleb would appreciate the way they look on you, but hes a fucking dog. He doesn't do "slow." He usually just rips them or tugs them off with impatience, going straight for the heat of you. You just want him to play with you like that. To linger.
Your inhibitions are a little frayed from the visual, and before your brain can catch up to your impulse, your thumbs are flying. You tap the comment section, the screen a mess of unhinged messages from strangers, and you add your own little confession: “I really need him to play with me like this, but he prefers to eat it raw from the start😢”
You hit send, a tiny, embarrassed flush creeping up your neck, and immediately swipe the video away, feeling a bit silly for being so vulnerable to a bunch of internet strangers.
You toss the phone onto the cushion next to you a second later, completely oblivious to one mortifying detail. He’d logged into his account on your phone earlier when his own battery died, and you hadn't bothered to switch back.
In his office, the most dangerous man in Skyhaven is about to watch, in explicit detail, how you want to be ruined.
🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷 🪷
It turns out your assessment of him was spot on. The man is a fucking dog.
He hasn't taken your underwear off. That’s the part that’s driving you absolutely insane. The delicate lace is currently soaked, clinging to your pussy like a second, translucent layer of skin. He’s been working his tongue against the fabric, licks so long and heavy they feel like they’re reaching deep inside you. You’ve already been hit by two earth shattering, toe curling orgasms, your vision blurring every time his mouth finds your clit through the damp cloth. He hasn't even slowed down. If anything, it's getting worse.
“This is the reason I usually take off those pretty panties you wear” he presses his face into you, his broad tongue sweeping up in one stroke against your entire slit. You let out a choked, broken sound, fingers tangling desperately in his dark hair, trying to push him away just to catch your breath.
“Your scent is so fucking addictive,” he groans against your skin, “Especially after wearing them all day... knowing you've been walking around, smelling like this, just waiting for me.”
Then, he says something that makes your heart skip a beat not out of fear, but out of pure shock.
“You have no idea, do you?” he pants, nose brushing against your clit. “Last two years of High School... I spent them stroking my cock raw just to the smell of your panties. Thinking about you. Wishing you were right there."
Your vision blurs. Your hips jerk upward involuntarily as a third wave of pleasure crashes over you. You cum hard, your entire body shaking as you spill yourself directly onto his tongue, voice breaking into a high, desperate sob of his name.
He doesn't pull away. He just drinks you in, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he tastes exactly what he's been craving.
The moment your legs stop trembling he hooks his fingers into the soaked gusset and drags it to the side, baring your swollen folds and your pulsing clit, sensitive from his relentless attention.
He doesn't thrust in. He doesn't go for the full stretch you’ve been silently praying for. Instead, he slides the drooling tip of his cock over your slit. He isn't even entering you yet, he's just... slapping it against your clit, teasing the very edge of your tolerance.
You wanted the lace, the play, the slow burn... but God, you also wanted him to fuck you until you couldn't remember your name. You wanted the stretch.
But Caleb is a man who listens. Or rather, he's a man who has spent a lifetime studying every detail of your desires and right now he is giving you exactly what you asked for.
He leans down, his eyes dark, watching the way your face contorts with pleasure and frustration. He doesn't give you the release of a full thrust, he just feeds you the tip. He slides just the head of his cock into your pussy, a teasing invasion that barely makes a dent.
The reaction is instantaneous. Your walls react to him like a living thing, clenching around him, desperately trying to suck him deeper, to pull the rest of him in. The sensation is so perfectly matched that a synchronized moan breaks from both of you.
He pulls out just a fraction and then he thrusts the tip back in. Over and over again.
“Please,” you whimper, the word sounding pathetic even to your own ears. “Baby, please...”
You’re trying to force him to go deeper. But he’s in total control. His left hand is working the length of his cock, pumping with a desperate rhythm, while his right hand finds your clit.
His eyes are pinned to yours, watching every flicker of emotion on your face as if he’s trying to memorize the way you fall apart.
And then, the teasing ends.
His mushroom tip, still nestled just inside your entrance, begins to pulse. Warm, thick spurts of cum hit your sensitive walls, flooding the tiny space he’s occupied.
Your pussy clenches around the tip of his cock, trying to suck every last drop out of him while his hand squeezes the rest of his length, forcing the remainder of his seed into you, filling you up until his cum starts to leak out.
He finally collapses against you, the weight of his body pressing you deep into the mattress.
"You're so loud when you're happy," he murmurs before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your temple, then your cheek, before finally settling his lips against yours in a kiss that tastes of salt and everything you are to him.
He pulls back just a bit, his gaze dropping to where the soaked lace of your panties still clings to your thighs, then back up to your eyes. There’s a flicker of that obsessive intensity returning to his expression.
"There isn't a single thing in this world you could ask for that wouldn't make me crawl to you. So don't hold back, Pips."
Synopsis: Deepspace Labs is a clinic dedicated to keeping Hybrid DNA pure and clinical. Enter at your own risk. Because these Hybrids are far from tame.
A/n: Last Kinktober post! I changed the prompt because I like this idea a smidge better. They are made for each individual LI but maybe in the future I will do a ‘Free for All’. Enjoy!
⋆˚🐾˖° XAVIER
Your ears press flat against your head, trembling as the nurse leads you deeper into the sterile white halls of Deepspace Laboratories. The contract you signed flashes in your mind—“Test Mate for Hybrid Compatibility." At the time, it had seemed like a way out. Free housing, tuition covered. All they asked in return was to let some pure-bred hybrid claim you as their temporary mate for a Rut.
As the door at the end of the hall looms closer, frosted glass etched with “Subject 11-7" in bold lettering makes your tail twitch restlessly.
The nurse punches a code into the keypad before offering what’s meant to be a reassuring smile.
“Don't worry. He's been very...eager for this."
The door slides open with an ominous hiss.
The air inside the containment room is thick with the musky, fevered scent of rut. Cloying and heavy, clinging to your lungs the moment you step in. And there, slumped against the far wall with his back turned, is Xavier.
You hadn’t read too much on his profile. He came from a good family, wealthy too. Evidently his father found it hard to find a proper mate for his son. His father just shoved Xavier and a handsome donation forward and let nature run its course.
His normally pristine white ears are flushed pink at the tips, twitching erratically as he grips his own thighs hard enough for claws to draw faint crescents through his thin gown. When he finally turns his head towards the door, his pupils are blown wide into dark voids barely rimmed by silvery blue.
“Who…?”His voice is hoarse his as nostrils flare taking in your scent. Bunny, like him. A shudder wracks through him before he whimpers.
“Smell so good…”
His eyes snap to the nurse, begging her to leave already. “You may go." He snarls, claws digging into metal when she doesn't move immediately. “I said. Go."
With a sharp bow she turns to leave, the door sliding shut with a final whoosh behind her. That's all the warning you get before Xavier is pouncing.
Rabbit Hybrids were notorious for two things:
Breeding and stamina.
Xavier had barely given your pretty cunt a sniff before he determined the slick dripping onto the medical cot was enough for him. His muscled frame, where more Hybrids of your kind were soft and plump, was hunched over you.
You’d lost count after the third time he filled you up. “Haaa…c-c’mon you can take it. It is not even-hngggg!-s’not even dripping yet.” He pants into your fluffy ear.
You whine face first into the pillows. His hips snap at a rate that makes you believe he’s part Cheetah instead of prey. Sticky strings of mixed cum connect your body. The smell of sex and desperation has long since seeped into the walls.
Your own long, floppy ears were caked in his saliva and sweat. Your fertile little womb would no doubt be perfect for all of his kits.
“Ah, please! Pleasepleaseplease-“ He’s pleading into your sweat soaked nape. “Gotta take it, my sweet Bunny. Gonna stuff y’so full.” His powerful haunches are balanced on both feet. The hands on your hips give you leverage and he’s drilling your cum soaked walls.
His feet thump against the creaky bed, desperate noises also signal another fast approach.
You squeal like you’ve been wounded, and a strong hand cups the back of your neck. “Doin’ so good. Pretty Bunny. Mmmm, feel s’hot. Here it comes, here it f-“ He cuts himself off as another load is pumped into your eager walls.
You don’t get a single second between rounds. Just a praise and a chaste kiss to the cheek before his fingers clamp around your cotton tail and drags you back onto his twitching cock.
⋆˚🐾˖° RAFAYEL
Your heart pounds as the nurse leads you deeper into the halls of Deepspace Laboratory, her heels clicking against the linoleum. Your feathers are slicked tight to your body in nervous submission, wings tucked close as your tail flattens against your back. Every instinct screaming that you’re walking into something far bigger than just a simple volunteer study.
The nurse stops abruptly at a door labeled TESTING CHAMBER - MATING COMPATIBILITY, her voice is unnervingly cheerful.
“You'll be paired with Subject Z-28 today! He’s quite…picky with his evaluations, but don’t worry. He’s been cleared for interaction." She doesn’t meet your eyes as she swipes her keycard. “Just remember, this is the comparability for interbreeding.”
Ah yes. The infamous, Mute Swan Hybrids, who are far more quiet than their counterparts Black Swans who honk and demand.
The door slides open with a quiet hiss, revealing a dimly lit chamber that smells faintly of saltwater and ink. And there, perched elegantly on the edge of an artificial pond, is Subject Z-28.
Rafayel.
A Black Swan Hybrid.
His obsidian feathers gleam under the sterile lab lights, contrasting starkly against his pale skin and those unnerving, piercing sunset eyes. His long legs are folded gracefully beneath him, almost lazily.
“Oh?" His voice is a melodic hum laced with amusement as he tilts his head. His black feathers rustling with the movement as if laughing at you silently.
“They sent me a little white swan?”* His slender fingers tap idly against knee before adding in faux sympathy, that does nothing hide sheer delight dancing behind his pretty iris.
“How cruel~.”
The Swan.
A bird of beauty, elegance, and loyalty who mates for life.
As his cock slides through a mess of slick and neatly trimmed hair, Rafayel might as well be all three as he moves over you.
His wings spread out like a sheltering cocoon of ink around your body, tail feathers fanning in a curtain to shield you both from the sterile, cold world outside.
He presses closer, lips grazing your collarbone as feathers rustle to brush against your cheek. “You spread so beautifully around me.”
He looks between your shaking thighs. His pretty perfect cock slides into awaiting wet folds. Your body accommodates immediately, desperately trying to milk him already. Your knees are pressed to your chest and spread out. Pretty white wings and feathers create an outline of your body. Like a fallen angel.
The grace in Rafeal’s movements is unparalleled. A dance that borders on hypnotizing as he moves. Each feather that grazes your skin is just the slightest touch of fire-hot silk, teasing and promising and never enough.
The way he rolls his hips is sinful. A sin you know you'll gladly sink down into willingly.
He doesn't move like a man; he moves like a God.
Your hips rise to meet each eager thrust. Where your moans of pleasure are quiet, his grunts and growls overpower them. It was absolutely true that Black Swans were so much louder than their counterparts.
But when it came to desperation, you were gushing over his length in mere minutes. His neck leans down, encircling your own as he feels how desperately you clench around his length.
Praise.
Rafayel loves praise. It fuels that ego of his like little else.
He growls against your skin, his lips brushing your pulse point, tasting the tension in that vein before dragging his tongue up your neck. "Cum for me, pretty girl."
And when your orgasm hits, so does the praise.
"So beautiful. So perfect. You are all the stars in my sky, the sun in my sky, and the very breath of my lungs." He's still fucking you through your peak, slow and steady, riding you through it. "And now I'm never letting you go. My muse.”
Because even a God can be selfish.
And Rafayel is nothing if not greedy when it comes to what's His.
There is absolutely so many feathers around the examination room that it looks like a poor pillow has been torn to shreds afterwards.
⋆˚🐾˖° ZAYNE
Your footsteps echo down the stark white hall as the nurse in front of you leads you to the hybrid labs. The sterile, antiseptic smell that fills the air leaves a slight burn in your nostrils. An ever present reminder where you are.
Your ears lower and your tail sways nervously behind you. You can't help but wonder what the people conducting the tests will think of you. What does this test even involve? You were barely given any information about the details as you signed the waiver, your eyes barely skimming the fine print.
Your species was known for being fast and powerful. But right now you felt reduced to a tamed house cat being led inside by treats.
The nurse stops in front of a nondescript door on the left, swiping their keycard. The door hisses open and she gestures you forward.
"In here."
Anxiety buzzes under your skin. You take a steadying breath, trying to calm yourself, and step inside.
The room beyond is brightly lit, every corner filled with a dizzying assortment of medical equipment. A single examination table is in the center of the room.
"Remove your clothing and hop on the table."
You did so happen to at least catch the part where your Doctor, would be your fellow test subject. A Hybrid desperately looking for someone to soothe his insufferable Ruts.
A Snow Leopard Hybrid.
The moment the door slides open again, your nose flares, overwhelmed by a scent so potent it makes your vision swim.
Spiced cedarwood. Frost-kissed musk. And beneath it all, something primal, something that burns straight through whatever suppressants he’s clearly drenched himself in.
The doctor’s gloved fingers flex at his sides like he’s resisting the urge to claw something apart, maybe himself.
When those sharp hazel eyes finally land on you, his pupils overtake every inch of his eyes.
Your species was known for its speed, but Zayne moves too fast for even you. It wasn’t a total surprise when your drooling face was shoved into the paper cover of the examination bed.
The stretch from his cock took little more than a few seconds before your body accepted him. His glasses fog when he presses balls-deep in your slick hole. You want to be snarky, to say something about introductions but the slow drag out of his cock has you wailing.
The first drag inside you is a white-hot shock, barbs catching on your walls in a way that makes your whole body jerk beneath him. It's not pain, not exactly—just an overwhelming stretch-and-catch sensation that has your claws scrabbling against the examination table for purchase as Zayne’s hips snap forward with predatory precision.
Every backward pull of his cock tugs, every thrust back in sends those ridged barbs scraping deliciously over tender inner walls. He’s stimulating nerves you didn't even know existed until now. Your thighs tremble violently, breaths coming in shallow pants as he fucks into you with single-minded intensity.
When one rough snap of his hips grinds those barbs deep against your cervix, you roar. Your vision is spotting at the edges from overstimulation while Zayne’s grip on your hips turns near-bone crushing.
“Ovulate." His voice is guttural, jagged around the edges like speaking takes all his effort amidst the all-consuming need driving him forward.
Judging by the way your slick drips thicker down your thighs, it’s easy to tell you were in fact fertile.
This isn't how he intended it, he meant for this to be a careful, scientific test between Hybrids. He never expected his animalistic side to take over like this, leaving nothing behind except raw, primal need.
But there's no denying the way the animal inside him growls in satisfaction as he sees a mate in this vulnerable, submitting state underneath him.
His fangs glisten in the blue light before sinking into the junction between your neck and shoulder. You seize up, baring your own fangs but his body shadows yours. Lithe muscle and strong arms pinning you to the bed as his cock throbs inside.
He brings a hand up into your hair, wraps it around his fist and shoves your face first into the bed. The pure domination has your walls fluttering around his cock, gummy walls welcoming his seed.
You obviously knew where you were staying for the next 3 to 5 days.
⋆˚🐾˖° CALEB
You follow the nurse down the hall of the Linkon Medical Center, your tail tucked so tight to your body you're nearly stepping on it.
You need the money the Lab is offering for this test mate program. The bills are piling up at home and college tuition is killing you. But just being in the building is enough to make your stomach twist painfully. The place smells sterile and medical and cold, nothing like the fresh air and wide open countryside you grew up in.
Sheltie Hybrids, or any Hybrid that was meant to be out in farm land, hated cooped up places like this. At least you knew your potential Mate was canine. And a high ranking officer at that.
Your Sire would be proud.
That thought alone makes your ears perk up just slightly. A high-ranking canine, maybe even one from a good bloodline, the kind your sire would brag about at the weekly livestock auctions.
The nurse pauses outside a heavy steel door, inputting a code with brisk efficiency before turning to you with an expression that’s not unkind but far from reassuring.
“Subject X-9 is waiting inside," she says, voice clinical as she gestures for you to enter. “He’s been prepped and briefed on the procedure."
Procedure. Like this is some experiment instead of what it really is, a desperate gamble for survival disguised as "mating compatibility testing."
The moment the doors slide open, you’re met with the sharp, commanding presence of Caleb.
He’s not just a colonel in uniform. He’s all predator.
Belgian Shepherd Hybrid genetics have sharpened his already lethal frame into something even more dangerous, tall, broad-shouldered, and built like a warhound bred for combat. His fur is a deep sable-black along his arms and back, fading into rich amber at his chest where it blends seamlessly with skin.
Twin ears prick forward atop his head as he turns to face you fully and those purple eyes are no longer just piercing, they glow faintly in the dim light like wildfire behind glass.
He circles closer, sniffing once at your scent before rumbling. “Sheltie." He stares it like it’s not common knowledge to you. "Small. Nervous."
You try to harden your voice and clench your fist. “I-I ain’t afraid of you…” that cute southern twang makes Caleb bark out a laugh.
“That accent’s gonna get you in trouble here, little sheepdog," he chided, smirking when your ears flick back at the nickname. “Sounds too sweet for a place like this."
His thumb brushes over the line of your jaw.
“But keep lying about not being scared and I might just believe you.”
The moment his weight pins you down, your bravado crumbles.
Caleb looms over you, all thick muscle and dark fur, those glowing purple eyes locked onto yours as he growls, “Gonna take it all, Sheltie. Every inch."
You whimper, squirming under him as the blunt head of his cock pushes against your entrance. Too big, too much. Your tail flattens beneath you in submission.
"T-Tight—!" Your voice cracks when he notches himself deeper with a single ruthless roll of his hips. “C-Caleb—please—!"
Caleb IS a gentleman under all that military precision and ego.
"Shhh, easy..." He nuzzles against the side of your neck. "Breathe with me." He exaggerates his own breaths, chest rising and falling slowly until you begin to match him without thinking.
His free hand slips between your bodies, fingers circling where you’re stretched tight around him, flicking your clit, coaxing with deliberate strokes until the tension bleeds from your thighs bit by bit.
The moment his instincts fully take over, everything changes.
One second, Caleb is murmuring praise into your ear. And the next his claws dig into your hips. His teeth graze the back of your neck in warning when you squirm too much.
"F-Fuck—!" His voice breaks mid-thrust when his knot starts to swell at the base of his cock, stretching you even wider on the next push inside. For all his dominance just seconds ago, now he’s pleading. "N-Not yet—! Gotta… gotta knot ya properly first…!"
But biology doesn’t care about pride or rank or control, his hips jerk forward involuntarily as that thick bulge catches against your rim again and again until finally.
It pops inside.
And just like that? The proud Belgian Shepherd Hybrid collapses over your back with a shuddering groan, knot locked deep as hot cum floods into every last inch of your heat.
⋆˚🐾˖° SYLUS
Deepspace Labs - Breeding Wing, Sector 7
A heavy, metal collar rests against your throat. Sleek black and etched with glowing runes meant to suppress, not protect. Your claws twitch at your sides; the scent of antiseptic burns your nose.
They call this place sanctuary. A last-ditch effort to save a dying species through controlled reproduction.
“Subject D-7." The lead researcher’s voice crackles over the intercom as steel doors hiss open before you. “Proceed to Chamber Alpha for mate introduction."
Your tail lashes, a reflex of agitation, before you step forward into dim lighting that does little to hide the silhouette waiting across from you on raised platform.
He's massive, wider than any hybrid they’ve shown before, with horns curled back in sharp crescents and wings folded tight against his spine
His voice rumbles through chamber walls straight into your bones. “So, you’re my little salvation?"
The hybrid before you is Sylus, a name whispered in scientific reports like a myth, now flesh and scale in front of you.
It’s his eyes that scorch the most: crimson-bright and slit-pupiled, locked onto you with unnerving focus. The horns arching back from his forehead are obsidian-sharp; one wrong move and they could gut a man clean through.
“You smell nervous." His tongue clicks against roof of his mouth. "Don't be. I don't bite...unless you ask nicely.”
The scientists move quickly to prepare you both for breeding.
“Standard precautions," the lead researcher mutters as they fasten reinforced cuffs around Sylus' wrist. They strap a muzzle over his jaws just in case.
A collar hums to life around his throat, pulsing with containment runes meant to suppress fire-breath just like yours.
For you, they clip blunt caps over your claws and inject a muscle relaxant "to prevent aggressive reflexes."
Your eyes catch the gleaming lights of the cameras around you. Watching and studying.
The restraints shatter the second they lock the chamber doors. Black scales ripple over straining muscle as Sylus rises from the platform.
The muzzle dangles uselessly from one claw before being flicked aside like an afterthought; containment runes on his collar fizzle out beneath a fresh wave of smoke curling past his lips.
"Poor thing," he purrs. "All restrained for me, as if I’d ever let them keep you like this." A claw traces along the caps on your claws before he picks off each one.
His wings flare wide, blocking the cameras viewing ports.
The moment his cock presses against your entrance, you feel the burn. Scalding heat and ridges that shouldn’t exist. It’s thick, intentionally stretching you with every inch he feeds into your body. The tapered tip flaring slightly at the base in a way that makes your walls spasm instinctively around him.
Sylus hisses through his fangs, smoke puffing from his nostrils as he bottoms out finally "Tight," he rasps, "Perfect little mate."
His cock pulses inside you like it has its own heartbeat. The drag of textured scales along oversensitive nerves makes your thighs shake—
"—Again." He snaps his hips forward without mercy, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that rumbles. “Scream louder. Let them hear what they tried to cage."
From the first snap of his hips, your body betrays you, reacting on some primal, draconic level that no amount of lab-engineered suppressants could stifle. Your claws shred through the restraints like paper, talons scrabbling against the steel table.
The scientists panic, shouting muffled orders behind soundproof glass as the monitors blare alarms.
“She's supposed to be docile! The serum was—"
But they were fools. They'd assumed female dragons were safer, softer, more manageable.
Yet here you are: wings ripping free from their straps in a violent snap of membrane and scale, pupils thinning to predatory slits as you arch into Sylus’ thrusts with a snarl that rattles the observation glass.
Your tail lashes wildly before coiling around his thigh in an instinctive claim. The feverish need to clench, to take, to lock him deep until he spills everything into your womb overrides every lab-bred inhibition they tried stitching into your DNA.
The scientists thought wrong. You were never tamed. Now they realize too late what monsters they’ve really caged together.
pairings : xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, and caleb (seperate)
synopsis : the lads men make you angry so they find a way to kiss it better
wc: 6.6k
general cw : nsfw, make up sex, oral (fem!receiving), overstimulation, piv, fingering, nipple play, dry humping, semi-public sex, unprotected sex
aexias talking : hii sorry this took me so damn long, ive been going thru writer's block LOL please enjoy <3
XAVIER 沈星回:
"Xavier, please." You rub your temples, smoothing your fingers through your hair. Seeing his face makes it difficult to stay mad at him. Even if you're upset over a silly reason, you still hold your ground. He stands outside your doorstep, eyes glimmering with sorrow. A soft dejection written on his face. He almost looks like a dog— Sad and pathetic.
The fact you fold so easily for him is pathetic though.
How could you not though? It's hard to deny Xavier when he makes you feel so good. You tangle your fingers into his strands, smacking your other hand against the wall to leverage yourself. Xavier crowds you, rubbing his nose into your thighs, kissing up the insides of your legs. He raises your thigh, letting it dangle over his shoulder. Xavier presses kisses into your hip, goosebumps flooding your body.
You're the pathetic one.
"My star." Xavier moans, his tongue lapping at your inner thighs. You make the mistake of staring down, seeing the haze in his eyes. It makes your stomach coil with need, throbbing at the mere sight of him. Xavier presses kisses into your skin, hands stabilizing you. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, okay?" He mumbles, far too invested in your pleasure.
You know it's stupid, Xavier shouldn't be apologizing for your stubbornness. Yet, you can't help but feel a swirl of glee, seeing him indulge in your immature mannerisms. His nose bumps against your clit, letting his tongue explore your sex. His eyes still remain on your expression, feeling your muscles twitch and spasm under his palms.
"I'll only look at you, okay? Only you, my love." He drags his tongue up, gently suckling at your clit before one of his hands glides up the back of your thigh. His fingertips glide over your slit before circling your entrance. "I'll only make you laugh, okay? I'll only ever make you feel good. I'm yours." Xavier's finger presses against the opening, gently sliding in. You clench around a single digit, hips buckling.
"I know you're sensitive. It's been two weeks." He mumbles, pressing his finger deeper. His finger curls softly, the pads moving against your walls. You try your best to keep your noises down. You're right in the door way, anyone could hear you two.
"Xavier.." You moan out, pressing his head closer to you. Your hips weakly grind against your face, rolling into his touch. You can feel him smiling, slipping another finger into you. You stretch around him with little to no restraint, your body giving into his mouth.
"Did you try touching yourself?" He asks, pulling away from your clit for a moment. Frazzled, you look down with confusion.
"I, uh— What?" You stumble on your words, too engulfed in how he's making you feel. Xavier repeats his question, kissing around your clit. You buck your hips, silently begging for more. "Yeah, it didn't—Ah— go well…" You admit, ears flushing with shame.
"I thought so.." He says softly, returning to your skin. Xavier continues curling his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you. "I am sorry though." He speaks again, pulling his fingers out. You whine at the loss of contact, but Xavier soothes you. He lets your leg fall off his shoulder, opting to wrap his arms around your hips. His thumbs rub at your lower stomach, pushing up your shirt.
His hand smooths over your skin, applying a soft pressure to your pelvis while his thumb rubs at your clit. He dips lower on his knees, angling his head to lap at your slit. Your skin is puffy, desperate for his touch. This time, you pull at his strands with a soft grunt.
"Xavier, please. If you're going to keep teasing me, I'll be even angrier." Your brows furrow, watching his eyes go wide. That pitiful, pathetic stare makes you clench around nothing. But he listens—He's good at that—focusing on the task at hand. Xavier presses his mouth against you, his tongue curling inside of you.
It's an entirely different feel from his fingers, softer yet more prominent. You buckle against his mouth, his thumb continuing to swirl at your clit. It throbs under his fingers as you become nosier. Concern for who can hear you has long since left your mind.
"Fuck, Xavier. Keep going!" You cry out, head resting against the wall. Weeks after working with just your fingers has left you frustrated. Granted, you caused your own issues, but still. Having his mouth and attention on you is suffocating in the best way possible. You want nothing more than drown into his affections and touch, choke on the feeling of ecstasy. He builds you up so gently, guiding you to an overwhelming pinnacle before he guides you down.
The pressure he applies on your lower stomach only adds to the stimulation, driving you crazy. Your head spins with desire, grinding against his mouth. The entire time, Xavier's eyes never stray from your expressions. It's euphoric, being strung so high, knowing you're going to be just as ardently guided down.
Xavier rumbles something against your sex, but you're too far gone to pay any mind. You can feel your orgasm washing over you, ebbing straight into your body. Before you can process it, you're clenching around Xavier's tongue, staining his mouth and chin with your slick.
Xavier doesn't let up though, gently slowing his movements. You pant as roll into his touch before you start flinching away from overstimulation. You push at Xavier's forehead, feeling his detach from you. His arms still stay looped around your hips, pressing kisses into your pelvis and stomach. His chin rests against your stomach as he cranes his neck to look at you.
"My star… Am I forgiven? Or shall I keep going? I'll do it as much as you'd like— I'll do anything." He says it so pointedly you don't have the heart to tease him. You shake your head, letting go of his blondish strands.
"You're forgiven, Xavier…" You say with a sigh, thighs trembling in his hold. "Though, I wouldn't mind a massage—"
"Anything you desire, my love."
ZAYNE 黎深:
"Your greed knows no bounds, Doctor." You remark, narrowing your eyes at Zayne. The blue light of his laptop reflects in his glasses has his gaze flits up to you. He's in his night clothes, yet he's still sitting at his desk. To add salt to the wound, he ate your dessert. Zayne's brows raise slightly, his crimes dawning on him.
"I'll be there in—" Zayne begins to speak, but you abruptly cut him off.
"Ten minutes, I know. I heard that an hour ago, dear." You walk towards the front of his desk, placing your hands on the wood. He stares up at you, eyes flitting down to the screen. You lean in, pulling his glasses off his face. "Don't you think you owe me reparations, Doctor? You ate my pudding and now you're lying to me." You jut out your lip in a faux pout watching his expression morph. Zayne rubs his temples, sighing.
He rises from his desk, glancing at his phone to check the time. He walks around the desk as your eyes follow him, his arms soon caging you against the wood table. He rests his face into the back of your neck, hands smoothing down your sides. You tangle a hand into his hair, guiding his lips towards yours.
As you press into Zayne you can feel his heart beating on your shoulder, the hitch in his throat as you slide your tongue against his. He lowers his head once more, kissing down the back of your neck. Pulling down the straps of your shirt to feel the skin of your shoulder.
"Will this suffice?" It's rhetorical. Zayne knows that you are far greedier than he is. He huffs a laugh near your neck, massaging his fingers into your hips and tail bone. "Tell me how I can right my wrong, darling." He breathes against your ear, guiding your chin back.
Zayne presses his lips against yours, feeling you willingly part your lips for his tongue. His hands stay busy, thumbs pulling down your pants and letting it pool by your ankles. You step out of the fabric, turning around quickly to wrap your arms around his shoulders.
He takes a step back as if to guide you towards the bedroom, but you pull on the collar of his night shirt. You shake your head,
"No. Here. So next time you lie to me, you can remember what it will cost to make it right." You chuckle against his lips, kissing him once more. Your lips move in tandem and Zayne is quick to prop you onto his desk. He shuffles his things to the side, knocking down a few papers in the process.
That isn't important right now.
You raise your hips, slipping your panties off before tugging on the edges of Zayne's shirt. He quickly disposes it, allowing you to feel the contours of his body. Your fingertips glide over his chest, collarbones, and expand over the plains of his abdomen.
Zayne works quickly. An arm wraps around the backs of your shoulders, guiding you to lay across his desk on your hip. Zayne manages to slip a hand between your thighs, knuckles running along your soaked slit.
"Tell me where you want me." He whispers into your ear, kissing the underside of your jaw when you lean back. He manages to get you onto your knees, kneeling on the desk as your back faces him. Zayne kisses down your spine, fingers lingering near your sex.
You take his hand, guiding the tips of his fingers between your folds, dragging them up and down. His fingers flex gently, prodding your hole. Zayne presses a kiss to your shoulder as your hips push back into his hand. Two of his fingers slip effortlessly into you, eliciting a moan from you.
"I should have known you wouldn't wait for me. Did you get tired of playing by yourself?" He questions, holding back a smile. You huff into your forearm, flushing.
"You took too long." You groan, pushing back against his fingers. He curls them into your sweet spot, allowing you to set the pace. Zayne hums against your back, feeling the chill of his skin against yours. His thumb finds your clit, pressing down on the bud as he continues to arch his fingers. You gush around him, squeezing your thighs together.
"My apologies." There's no bite to his words, a soft smile displayed on his face. You glance over your shoulder, brows furrowing as he leans in to kiss you again. You're impatient though, growing far too tired of simply having fingers inside of you. You press the arch of your foot against his thigh, straining your ankle to drag it higher up his leg.
Zayne catches your ankle with his spare hand, pressing his thumb into the center. It effectively restrains you foot, causing it to curl inwards. You whine against his lips, but soon hear him shuffling out of his pants.
"Good things comes to those who wait." Zayne humors you, sliding your foot outwards. He parts your legs, guiding the head of his cock between your thighs. He groans at the sheer heat of you, feeling your ass pressed against his pelvis. "Greedy." He remarks, seeing you push back against him. His hand rests on your hip, guiding you onto him.
You groan as Zayne pushes into you, your body rolling against his hips. He holds you down, keeping you in place despite your incessant whines. Gently, Zayne guides you to sit up, his chest against your shoulders. With his lips beside your ear, you can hear his heavy breathing and groans.
"impatient and greedy." He repeats, coiling an arm around your center to palm at your exposed chest. Your head falls back into his shoulder, sucking and biting marks onto his neck. Come tomorrow, he may flush at the bright red markings on his pale skin, but for now, Zayne allows you to do as you please.
When he finally bottoms out, he doesn't waste anytime. He sets the pace for you, pressing a hand on your lower abdomen. You feel the pressure of him, his cock running into the deepest part of you. It drives you insane, your fingers coiling around his wrist.
The compression on your stomach makes your head spin, not to mention Zayne's moans and scent flooding your senses.
"So noisy. Is this what you wanted, my love? Is this a sufficient apology?" Zayne is aware a conversion will occur later as he peppers kisses into your chest and shoulders, uttering a promise to be more cautious about his time working late at night.
Especially on days where he is supposed to be in bed, curled into your warmth. But for now, he's willing to satiate your desires. Pleasure you until your eyes are rolling back and sweat under the folds and panes of your body. You nod fervently, jaw agape as you pulse around his length.
"Cum, my love. I know you want to. Let me—" Zayne pauses, a moan interrupting his speech. "Ah, let me makes you feel better." His hand drags from your hip to your chin, guiding your lips against his as you shatter in his arms. You can't escape the pleasure and sincerity he's forcing upon you. You're wrapped in his ember, indulging to the highest degree in the pleasure he provides.
Even as your lips part, your foreheads press against one another. Zayne pants against your lips before his orgasm crashes into him. His hips stammer, but continue rolling through the pleasure. Gently, you two ride out your highs together, collapsing against his body.
"I love you." Zayne mutters, imprinting kisses into your shoulder. "I'll manage my time better."
"No, don't." You chuckle, bringing your hand up to his face. You lightly squish his cheek between your fingers. "I like to kiss and make up." Zayne chuckles, shaking his head before pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple.
"Greedy."
RAFAYEL 祁煜:
Rafayel doesn't argue with you majority of the time. When you get angry, fuming at his behavior, he's quick to shrug it off. A master at adverting your attention to anything other than his wrongdoings. He refuses to address any issues with your relationship with the fear that you will give up on him— Leave him for good.
"Isn't this nicer, cutie?" Rafayel's breath tickles your ear, biting down on the soft flesh. You twitch under him, hips rutting into his palm. "You don't need to worry about anything. Just focus on me, okay?"
It's hard to focus on anything except him. His fingers curl into your just right, rocking his palm with the correct pressure. It should be a crime how good Rafayel makes you feel. The way you kiss and make up is addicting. The high you get from arguing to grabbing his collar and kissing him senseless.
Your arms coil around Rafayel's neck, sucking on his skin. He hisses, palming at your hip with his free hand. You bite around his neck and collarbone, decorating him with your markings. You refuse to leave him because regardless of his shortcomings, Rafayel makes up for them in a plethora of ways.
"Are you close, cutie? I can feel you. It feels so good, doesn't it? Grinding on my hand instead of yelling, hm?" He doubles down, pressing his thumb against your clit. He mercilessly swirls the bud, jerking his fingers to press deep inside of you. You moan into his skin, biting down harder the closer you get. Your hips press into his palm, meeting him halfway.
Your body stutters though, the sensitivity growing to an all-time high. Though, just before you cum, Rafayel pulls his hand away from your sex. A string of your slick chases his fingertips, making him smile at the sight. You're huffing, panting as you gaze at him with anger.
"All you do is make me angry." Your words hold no bite though, not when your thighs are shaking with need. He knows you won't be mad for long, not when he holds the power of your pleasure in his palm.
Rafayel snickers, leaning onto his forearms as he undoes his zipper. The bed sinks under his weight as your hands impatiently undo his belt. The metal clinks as it falls to the floor, your body moving in to kiss him. Your hands cup his face, drawing him in as he undresses himself.
You already know what's coming next. He forces you to sit up on your knees, pressing a hand to the backs of your thighs. Rafayel doesn't wait for you, sinking you down on his cock as his tongue takes the opportunity to slip into your mouth. Your moans muffle against his tongue as he pulls you down further.
Your nails drag into his skin, creating red angry marks. You push against his chest, letting him lay flat against the sheets. His hair puffs out, cheeks flushed as you rise up on your knees. Rafayel reaches out to touch you, but you swat his hand away.
"No. Just sit still. Do something good for me for once." You furrow your brows, sinking back onto his cock with ease. He watches from below as your knees spread, the way your head tilts back. Your hand presses onto his chest for stability, arching onto him. You lay flat onto him, your hips bouncing.
Rafayel groans beneath you, the tips of his ears a bright red. The room fills with heavy pants and moans. Despite your orders, his hands rest on your ass, aiding you. Your fingers splay over his sides, leaving marks down his chest and shoulders.
"You're such an ass, you know?" You grunt, legs trembling like jelly as you spread your knees wider. The burn feels so good, blurring the lines of pain and pleasure. "Making me chase you down all afternoon. Just for you to ignore me." Your nails dig into his skin as you try to push yourself up.
You swat his hands away again, ruffling your own hair to bounce on his cock properly. He lies deep in your stomach as you bite down on your lip.
"You're so fucking immature." You drag your nails down Rafayel's torso, his cock throbbing inside of you. You clench around him rhythmically, his hips winding into yours. His hand raises to your chest, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He lets out a strained huff, smiling despite all your insults.
"You still love me though. Right, cutie?" Rafayel pulls you down against his chest, hands grabbing your hips to bounce your ass onto him with a steady pace. You grasp at the sheets, digging blunt crescents into his skin.
"Never going to let you leave me, okay?" He hisses through gritted teeth. Despite his ability to speak, Rafayel isn't faring any better than you are. "We'll figure it out. I'll do better." The base of his spine tingles under your weight, a force driving his climax closer and closer. The longer it goes on, the sloppier Rafayel gets. His body tenses, growing dizzy at your mewls and whines.
His hand leaves your hip, driving your face towards him. The kiss is a mess of teeth and tongue, bitting at each other's lips as you both try to contain yourselves. But it feels too good. The way you tighten and gush around him drives Rafayel insane. In the same manner, Rafayel sinks deeply into you, thrusting his hips into yours with precision.
In sync, the two of you shudder chest to chest. Your nails tug at Rafayel's scalp, the pain forcing his orgasm to crash down. Your entire body trembles, thighs quivering as you gush around Rafayel's length. It's almost painful how hard you cum. You can hear Rafayel moaning into your ears before biting down on your shoulder.
Tit for tat.
Sweat drips down your bodies, slack against one another. Neither of you move, afraid to rock the serenity of the moment. Rafayel rests his hands against your upper back, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.
"I will do better, I promise." He mumbles into your hairline, drawing you in for a much softer kiss.
"We'll see."
SYLUS 秦彻:
The first thing Sylus does when he returns home is seek you out. Especially right now considering he's committed a criminal offense: He has missed date night. A ritual you two have at least once a week. Today though, he was caught in unfortunate circumstances. He almost got caught into a trap, negligent of his surroundings due to his mind being occupied by you. He finds you laying in your shared bed, slumped over the sheets.
You're still wearing your outfit. Your heels have almost slipped off your feet as they dangle over the bed, your dress riding up your hips. He has an incredible view, but he can't help but feel a pang in his chest. He doesn't even shed his gloves before laying beside you. His hand runs up your thighs, massaging the exposed skin of your hip. Sylus pulls you close, watching you rouse from your blissful sleep.
"Sylus?" You breathe out, eyes still shut. Your body curls into his, the cool leather of his hand smoothing over your forehead. Your makeup has gone askew, eyeliner smudging. He gently runs a hand under your eye, smiling softly. The low lights make it easier to see his face even as he draws near.
"I'm late. I'm sorry." There's a deep furrow in his brows, his silver strand swaying. You match his expression, linking your fingers together at your hip bone.
"I got all dressed up. I wanted to see the opera." You're disappointed, he knows it. Sylus leans down to kiss you, lips softly pressed into yours. You turn over, letting him hover over you.
"I know, sweetie. I'm sorry." He mutters into your lips, letting you coil your arms around his neck. You feel the prickly edges of the back of his head, fingers finding his strands. He feels nice pressed against you, holding you through the negative emotions that backpack off disappointment. Sylus cups your ribs, hands molding over your breasts as he kisses down your dress.
"So beautiful, hm?" His lips bite your skin gently, lapping at the wounds. Your thighs make room for his knee as it settles between your legs. You let your fingers make do of his shirt, unbuttoning the top as you tug his tie off. You can see the dust that sticks to his shirt, the splatters of blood on his cheek. You furrow your brows at the sight, pulling him closer.
"Did you get hurt?" You whisper against his lips, afraid that if you spoke any louder it would break the moment. Sylus shook his head, reassuringly kissing you. His lips move with yours in tandem, arms coiling around one another. "I'd be more angry if you did." You tell him when you part. Sylus laughs when your arms slip off his shoulders. You remove his shirt, hands exploring his body.
It's familiar terrain. The small dots on his body, the contours of his abdomen and hips. You know this area well, running a hand over his chest. He's sensitive there. Sylus moans above you, pulling your hips up to fully push your dress up. It clings to your waist as Sylus kneels near the edge of the bed. He pulls you forward with a tug to your ankle as he slips your heels back on.
"Can I walk you through what we would have done?" He mutters against your knee, looking up through his lashes. Your fingers find home against his head, nodding gently as you place your thigh over his shoulder. Sylus smiles softly, the edges of his eyes softening. "The opera would have been the first spot. And dinner afterwards, that's our tradition." He speaks fondly of your weekly routines.
"Then we would walk around a park. You always stuff yourself full, kitten. I'm glad though. Seeing you become greedier as the days pass." Sylus fully settles on his knees now, gently parting your thighs. He can see the way your panties gently glisten under the soft lighting. He smiles, kissing the insides of your knees.
"By then, I would have reaches my limit. Especially when you look this divine. How could I not?" You flush under Sylus's compliments, letting a small giggle slip. "Where would you let me have you? Near the entrance or in the elevator? Perhaps the lower living room? That is your favorite, no?" Sylus slips a thumb under your panties, gently tugging them down your thighs.
"Maybe the stairs on the way to the bedroom. I grow more impatient as the days pass, kitten" You can imagine it now, running away as he chases you up the stairs. Sylus is adept in chasing you though, a master in his craft. Pressing you into the stairs as your thighs squish his head.
That is his idea of paradise after all.
With your panties out the way, Sylus parts your thighs further. You scoot closer, guiding his mouth to where you need him most. He hums, satisfied with your orders. His tongue runs along your folds, wasting no time.
"Maybe the bathtub like last Friday? You enjoyed that greatly, didn't you? I've never seen you make such a face before." Sylus reminiscences the way you were trembling on top of him as your hips rose and sank. Desperately holding onto his hand, tears streaming with need. Tragically beautiful.
His fingers join the mix, circling your entrance to gather your slick. You accept his touch, rolling your hips into his fingertips. He thrives off watching you like so. You let out a shaky breath, his middle finger sinking into you. You feel the bump of his ring by your folds, thighs pressing around him. That has never stopped Sylus though. His free hand dips your body back, laying on the bed flat.
With a hand on your lower back, Sylus raises your hips into his mouth. Your weight settles onto his palm as your legs splay. He gets a clearer view of your sex now, noting the way you pulse around him. Sylus likes the take his time, savor every sound and taste. But tonight he has a mission to fulfill: Satisfy his beloved. Make it up to you.
Sylus does just that, his finger curling into your sweet spot. His fingers are your favorite part of him, long and stocky to hit in just the right places. You fist the sheets, tugging at the burgundy silk. It's sickening how smooth his sheets are. They slip from your fingers as your hips roll into Sylus's touch.
"Please. More, Sylus. Don't tease me…" You moan from above, letting your hand slip beneath the bodice to squeeze your breast. Sylus takes his hand from our lower back to glide up your body. He shushes you, bitting the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.
"Let me. Just enjoy, my love." He cups your exposed breast, kneading the skin before using the sides of his fingers to pinch and roll your nipple. All the while, he slips another finger inside of you. He works you well, curling and prodding your sweet spots. "That's it. It must feels so nice, right?" Sylus rises from your thighs to kiss up your stomach. He's bent at an odd angle, so you pull him back on top of you.
He cages you with his body against the numerous pillows, gliding his tongue against yours. Sylus moans into your mouth, angling his wrist to better touch you. His thumb glides between your lips to press at your clit. You jerk against him, thighs squeezing his wrist. It doesn't stop Sylus though, he keeps his pace.
With his free hand, he fully tugs down the top of your dress and lets the material bunch at your torso. Your nipples harden under the newly found air. Sylus suckles around the buds, but quickly changes his tune when you whine under him. He commits to the act, directly suckling at the bud. It hardens more in his mouth, growing puffy and swollen from his ministrations.
"Kitten." Sylus purrs against your skin, creating bites into your skin. "Beautiful. My beautiful sweetheart. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you as much as you'd like." His voice rumbles in your ears. Your hands explore his bare body, dragging red lines down his biceps and shoulders. Sylus shudders under the pain, eyes gently rolling back.
He works guides you through it all, murmuring sweet words into your skin while his fingers curl and roll into your cunt. You pulse and gush around him, legs flailing.
"Sylus!" You cry out, tears brimming your eyes. Sylus kisses your lids, smiling.
"Cum for me, sweetie. You deserve that much." He whispers, feeling your body seize under him. It's euphoric, like fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. Your jaw slackens, pitchy moans and whines escaping your lips the longer Sylus keeps your strung out for. His fingers don't stop even as you cum, clenching around his digits. His palm rolls into your clit, hips chasing his movement.
"Good girl, good. I have you, sweetie." He rocks you through your high, even has you slacken under him. Sylus does not stop, gently guiding you into another high. You don't mind it though, your body in desperate need of his touch. Sylus presses a kiss to your lips, saliva pooled around the edges.
"We'll keep going until I've paid my dues, kitten. Be as greedy as you please."
CALEB 夏以昼:
Caleb is a nuisance when you argue. He would perish if he gave you even an ounce of space. He wants to solve issues in the moment rather than letting them linger in your mind for hours on end. Nip it in the bud, kind of guy. You hate that about him though— So clingy and in your face when all you need is a little space.
Though, you can't quite be mad at him when his tongue is buried deep inside of you.
"Pipsqueak, please? I'm sorry, honey. Won't ever put the cameras up again, okay?" Caleb says, pressed into your sex. You push at his forehead, yet your hips chase after his touch. You feel like a fool. How could you fold so fast?! Yet, how could you pass up the opportunity? It's not as if Caleb has ever given you a bad experience in the bedroom— Far from that.
You falter, seeing his eyes glimmering in the low lighting of his home. You shouldn't even be here, you should be ignoring me. You were headed back home after a bad argument, but he insisted you stay for dinner and or at least take something home. Yet, as the water on the stove comes to a roaring boil, Caleb pays it no mind.
"I'll be a good boy, yeah?" Caleb whines, his fingers working into your sensitive walls. You twitch above him, gripping onto the granite tiles. It digs into the base of your spine as you tremble on your toes. You tug at Caleb's strands as your heart races in your chest. His touch drives you mad, tongue swirling over your clit as his fingers veer into your sweet spots.
He plays so unfair.
Caleb presses a wet kiss to your clit, kissing all along the meat of your thighs. His nose rubs into the skin as he hums, watching your composure fail. He draws your hand covering your mouth back to his head, letting you push him further into your wet folds.
"I'll do anything, baby. I'm sorry, okay? I'll be such a good boy." He laps at your clit again, suckling on the swollen bud. Your hips jerk into his mouth, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. Caleb's eye brim with faux tears, pleasuring your most sensitive places. He rambles on, mouth pressed into your folds.
He works into your body, dragging two orgasms out of you. Your legs tremble around his head and thighs before he twirls you around. Gently, with an arm wrapped around the front of your shoulders, Caleb bends you over the table, pulling your panties to the side. From the corner of your eye, you can see your discarded jeans and one of your boots. Your eyes flutter shut as Caleb kisses down your spine, your hand seeking out his.
"Hm? What is it, pretty? You forgive me?" You ignore his teasing, looking over your shoulder to whine at him. Just as Caleb knows your every weakness, you know his all the better: Your needs. With flushed cheeks and glossy eyes, you give him the neediest look you can muster.
"Oh, my baby. Look at you. You just need me, huh?" You nod in reply. Caleb falters, cooing at your expression. He guides you back up, pulling you into his arms. His pants hand low on his hips as Caleb guides you to his bedroom. With your arms looped around his neck, you hold on tight.
"I'll be good, yeah? No more spying on you, baby." Caleb nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, guiding you to his bed. As your placed onto grey-ish black sheets, Caleb hovers over you. He aims for your neck, kissing and lapping at your skin. You let his chest press against yours, legs locking around his hips. "Would you like that, honey? Me being good for you? Is that what you need?"
Again, you don't reply, letting your noises answer for you. His hand rub at your sides, fingers finding their way between your thighs again. A shiver treks up your spine as Caleb's fingers spread inside your walls. He tugs on your earlobe, pulling away with a chuckle when you punch his chest.
"Behave, boy." You narrow your eyes, letting him place your ankles on his shoulders. Caleb doesn't like to waste time, not when you're ready for him. He nods, his bangs swaying softly.
"Can I, baby? Promise I'll make you feel so good, okay?" His eyes wane, melting into a look of needy tenderness. You can't say no, you don't want to. You roll your eyes at him, pressing your hips forward. As his hips presses into you, Caleb groans. Your wet heat envelops his length as he grinds on his molars. But soon, noises slip out of his mouth and his brows knit.
"Thank you, baby." Caleb sighs, relief spreading through his body. The deeper you sink onto his cock, the louder he gets. He repeats this mantra of thanks over and over into your neck, lapping and nipping the skin. His hips have a mind of their own, raising yours to thrust into you as deeply as possible. Eventually, he rises to see your face. The flushed, dazed expression makes his cock throb.
"My baby. You're so pretty." He mumbles into your lips, placing wet kisses all over your face. "I couldn't help myself. You were so beautiful and I just—Ah!— Wanted to make sure nobody hurt you, honey." In between thrusts he speaks, trying his best to keep his composure. But Caleb falters feeling your walls clench around him. His pelvis knocks into your swollen clit, only amplifying the pleasure.
"My pretty baby." He coos, kissing the insides of your knees, down to your ankle. Caleb pulls your sock off with his teeth, letting your foot rest in his palm before pressing a kiss to the underside. He strays down your heel to the sides before one final one at the base of your foot.
"Promise I'll be a good boy, okay? No more cameras, baby. Yeah?" Caleb lets your foot rest on his chest as his head smooths the hair out of your face. Sweat lines your naked body the closer you get. Your whines grow louder as your hips try to back away from his obsessive pleasure, but Caleb has never let you stray far.
"Shh, shh. Don't run, baby." Caleb whispers, pressing his body weight onto you. The pressure only makes you dizzier, unable to run from the onslaught. It's too much, yet not enough all at once. Caleb knows, he knows everything about your body. So his fingers find your chest, pinching your nipples between his thumb and pointer, gently tugging at it. "Shh, don't be fussy, I know. I know, baby. I have you."
He suffocates you with his love, locking his lips against yours. Caleb suckles on your tongue, letting you pull at his hair. Your nails rake angry marks all along his back, his necklace making its way between your lips. Your run your tongue along the beaded apple, letting the thick silver slip onto his.
"Cum for me, baby. Wanna make you feel so good, yeah? Let me do that much." Caleb's arms encompass your body, rutting into your heat before your nails dig into his biceps. It's too much, your body can't handle it. You spasm under him, eyes rolling back before the knot in your stomach bursts.
"There you go, baby. I have you." Caleb babbles, lost in the heat and tightness of your cunt. His hips keep rutting into you as he digs his face into your neck. With what little strength you have left, you tighten your hold on Caleb's necklace. You tug it towards you, drawing him into a kiss. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip, iron coating your taste buds.
That's the final push he needed.
Before you know it, Caleb cums inside of you. A warmth fills your lower regions as your ankles lock against his spine. He can't move, forced to withstand the overstimulating waves of his orgasm. He whimpers and jerks in your hold, but you guide him through it.
"Will you forgive me, baby?" His voice is so shaky, eyes brimmed with tears. You can't tease him now, not when he's trembling and desperate for your forgiveness. You sigh, your face hot with his breath. "I've been a good boy, tell me what else I can do, my love. All I want is for you to forgive me." You smooth his hair out of his eyes, pressing a kiss to his sweat lined forehead.
"I'll let it go just this once.." You grumble, reluctant. Caleb's eyes glow with joy, encompassing your body into a hug. He peppers kisses all along your exposed skin as he gently pulls out of you. You tag back on his necklace, whispering against his lips.
"Do me one favor though, Caleb." You say, watching his brows raise. If he had a tail, you'd imagine it would be swaying quickly.
"Yes, yes! Anything, baby." You push yourself a bit higher on the bed, your elbows shakily supporting your weight. You guide Caleb's face back between your leaking folds, watching his ears twinge red.
"Clean me up?" Caleb smiles in return, pressing a kiss to the top of your foot.
