The LADS Men React To You Saying You Can't Have S*X Because Of Mismatching Underwear
NSFW WARNING
Sylus
Sylus knows in an instant that you’re messing with him but he plays along, a sly smirk sitting pretty on his lips. “Oh NO- your underwear set doesn’t match? Whatever shall we do?” After clicking a few buttons on his phone, he stands to grab his car keys (one out of many).
“Wait! What are you doing, where are you going?” You ask, brows furrowing. The sudden change in the atmosphere has you feeling like, at any moment, you might get whiplash. One minute, he’s kissing up your neck, squeezing at your thighs, grinding his raging erection into your crotch, and the next, he’s throwing on his jacket, zipping his pants back up, and getting ready to leave.
“You mean where are we going, kitten.” He speaks like it’s only obvious.
Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Why are we leaving? I thought you just wanted to have sex not two seconds ago.”
“Of course, dearest, but we can’t have sex if you’re feeling embarrassed, now can we? So I thought I’d just buy the nearest lingerie store and we could go pick out whatever you like.”
You choke on your spit. “You did WHAT?”
“I said I bought the store. So let’s go.” His eyes are daring you to continue with your little charade.
“Well I…I kinda wanted to stay home tonight.” You say weakly. You know you’re making a pathetic case for yourself, but he’s really not allowing you the wiggle room to be more convincing.
“Then allow me to have all of their stock delivered to the house. Unless… you think that the mismatching underwear is no longer an issue?”
Oh, this son of a bitch. “You… you really don’t have to do all of this just for me.” You say with an awkward laugh. He knows you’re all out of moves and you’re just pivoting at this point. He knows and he has the audacity to be amused.
“Oh, but I did, kitten. I wouldn’t want to overlook this very important issue. What’s important to you is important to me.”
“It’s, uh, not actually that important…” You confess meekly.
“Say that again, sweetie?” He cranes his head to hear you better but you know damn well he can hear you just fine.
You glare at him. “I said it’s fine.”
He chuckles, sweet satisfaction clear on his face. “So then. Does this mean we can pick up where we left off?”
Caleb
You’ve been teasing Caleb all day.
Dancing into his field of view with that low neckline of yours, wearing a dress that’s so short, it’s a wonder it’s covering anything at all. Touching him here and there, your fingers grazing his skin with a feather-light touch, trailing up his biceps, or down his back, before flitting away like you’d never been there in the first place.
So, of course, after hours of edging him towards an excruciating erection, his self control still intact (though holding on by mere splintered pieces), you decide to reward his good behavior. You straddle him on the couch, and slowly begin to slide your hips back and forth, dragging your clothed cunt across the admittedly-impressive bulge in his pants.
He swears he’s seeing heaven, when you finally allow his aching cock some much needed friction. He’s not proud to say that a little dry humping is all it takes to get him coming into his pants, but he’s sure you’ll continue to show him such endless bliss as the night goes on that he won’t even remember how many times he’s come, let alone that the first time was in his underwear. His head dips forward, steadying itself on your shoulder as he allows the wave of euphoria to wash over him.
But the second the wave has come and gone, his arousal is already flaring back up in his gut, ready for round two, round ten, round however much you want. All he can think about is how perfect it’ll be when he finally sinks himself inside you, your wet heat enveloping him until all he can feel is you. He doesn’t even think that maybe you’re more devious than he gave you credit for.
After he’s come, you retreat almost immediately, pulling yourself off of him.
He whines pathetically and he fumbles as he attempts to grab hold of you.
“Baby, we can’t tonight.” You say, innocent as ever.
He tries to keep the disappointment from his voice, tries to restrain his very evident need for you, but desperation is quickly rising within him. “Why not?”
You try to keep the smirk from your lips. “It’s just…I’m not…”
“You’re not what, love? Not feeling well? Not in the mood?” He hopes you don’t notice how badly he just wants you to spit it out.
“I’m not wearing matching undergarments tonight. So we can’t.” And there it is. The goal you’ve had all night. The little trick you couldn’t wait to play on him. You’re thrilled to see how he’ll react.
His eyes darken in an instant. “Oh, you little minx. You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” His tone has dropped to a low growl.
“I haven’t the slightest idea.” You say, feigned ignorance dripping from your lips.
He gives a short laugh. “Sure you don’t. Well, if your mismatching underwear is the only issue-” He begins to kiss down your neck harshly, not bothering to take care where he leaves his marks, “-I’ve got just the solution.” His fingers find your dress’s zipper with expert precision and before you can even process that he’s taken ahold of it, the dress is already laying in a pile on the ground. Along with your bra and panties.
“There. All better. Now your underwear matches- they’re both on the damn floor.”
Rafayel
You’re starting to think that you lie just a little too well.
You had only meant to tease Rafayel when you had told him that the reason you couldn’t have sex tonight was because you were embarrassed that your bra didn’t match your underwear, but you didn’t expect him to take you completely seriously. What was even more unexpected was that he would go on to give you an entire art lecture in the process.
“Take Picasso, for instance. Brilliant artist. One of a kind. You know him, of course you do, everybody knows him. His work is asymmetrical, and yet you don’t see anybody telling him that his work isn’t beautiful because it doesn’t match.”
“Raf-”
“And take my work. My work isn’t always symmetrical either, but would you tell me that I’m anything less than a true genius? No, because I am. See?”
“That’s besides the point-“
“The point, cutie, is that you’re gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing. It’s okay that you didn’t plan a matching outfit today. Some of nature’s most stunning scenes are spontaneous. You wouldn’t complain to the sunset that its pink doesn’t match its orange, would you?”
“No, but I-”
“Exactly. So it doesn’t matter to me if you’re wearing mismatching underwear; you could be wearing a trash bag and I’d still want you. Do you understand now, cutie?”
“Raf, baby, there’s nothing to understand, I was just jo-“
“Okay, if you don’t understand, let me put it in simpler terms for you. I’m hard for you regardless. That make sense now?”
When he puts it that bluntly, you really want to jump his bones. At this point, you figure you might as well. It’s useless to try and explain to him that you were only joking- not after he’s given you such a lengthy (though thoughtful) monologue. Though he’s a bit dense today, he’s still the same sweet Rafayel you fell in love with. So you think you’ll reward him for his kindness.
“You know what, baby? You made me feel so much better, thank you. I think, to show you just how much better I feel-” You strip yourself naked for him and his jaw drops, his eyes hungrily raking over your bare form, “-I’ll even let you come inside me tonight. What do you think?” You purr seductively.
You really didn’t have to try so hard to seduce him.
He’s already dropped his pants and begun stumbling towards you, rapidly hardening cock in hand.
Xavier
You’re in the middle of a very heated makeout session with Xavier when you decide to pick on him a little. You can tell where this is going, but you want to drag it out a little longer.
“Xav-” You whine breathlessly. “I think we should,” You return another one of his hungry kisses, “Probably stop for the night.”
He pulls back to examine you. He can’t tell if you’re messing with him or if you’re genuinely not in the mood. Of course, if you want to stop, he’ll stop. He can just fuck his hand later; he’s not so selfish that he’d make you do something you don’t want to do. But just in case he did something wrong, he decides to ask. “Any particular reason you want to stop?”
“It’s just…” You bite your lip, hoping it makes you appear timid, when really you’re trying not to grin. “My bra and my underwear don’t match. I’m a little embarrassed to show you.”
He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Oh, is that all? Feel free to change them then. I won’t look.” Before you can even respond that it’s a joke, he’s turned his back to you to give you your privacy.
You shake your head, smiling softly at his back. You didn’t expect him to be so sweet. You may as well strip naked while he’s allowing you the time; you had planned to have sex with him anyway.
What the both of you don’t realize is that your bedroom’s full length mirror is angled just right so that he can still see you even when you’re behind him. He looks up only to get a perfect view of you undressing. When he realizes he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to, he starts to look away. But then he catches a glimpse of your mismatching underwear. Cherries decorate the soft material of your panties, while your bra is littered with little bows all the way around. Heat surges through his groin and he realizes that for some reason, this combination of mismatching underwear is doing something to him.
You finish pulling your shirt off all the way and reach back to unhook your bra. “You know, I appreciate you being so understanding, my love, but I have to admit- I was completely kidding about not wanting to have sex just because my underwear didn’t match.”
In an instant -you honestly don’t remember him even having the time to turn all the way around- he’s at your side, gripping your wrist tight and locking you in place. “That’s a relief. Now you don’t have to take off any more.”
You raise a curious brow at him. “What do you mean? Didn’t you want to have sex? I kinda have to take my underwear off for that.”
“No. You don’t.” His tone is low and thick with lust. “The undergarments stay on.” Before you know it, you’re pinned down to the bed.
You don’t know if it’s his teleportation ability or just his pure, unadulterated need, but he seems to be moving rather hastily today. You’ve barely even had time to blink before he’s slipping his cock under your bra, fucking your cleavage while it holds his cock in place.
Something about you, the girl who always settles for function over fashion, wearing the cutsiest, girliest underwear he’s ever seen makes him harder than he’s ever been before and he’s not stopping until he’s staining this particular set in his cum.
Zayne
“So we don’t strip naked then. That doesn’t mean I can’t still make you feel good.”
When you originally decided to play this joke on Zayne, telling him that you were feeling just a little too shy today to reveal to him your mismatching underwear, you thought he would see right through your little act. This is the man who has known you almost your entire life, after all.
But after you’d come so many times IN YOUR GODDAMN UNDERWEAR ALONE, all because he had insisted on tending to your needs even with your clothes on, after your clenching walls began to feel rather bruised, your clit increasingly more and more overstimulated with each passing second, as he fingered you through the (soaked) fabric of your clothes yet again, you were starting to regret this decision to mess with him.
You tried to confess so many times, to tell him you’d been lying, to beg him for his cock instead, but it was almost like he knew what you were trying to say, because he’d kiss you so deeply until you were so dizzy from lack of breath that you forgot what you wanted to say, and then he’d dry hump you until you forgot how to even breathe in the first place.
When you finally stutter out a pathetic, “P-please Z-Zayne…can’t t-take it anymore. Wanna f-fuck you,” Your hips thrusting desperately against the unsatisfying, thin air, he grins.
In that moment, you realize he’s known you’ve been lying all along.
He leans over to you and you think he might kiss you. That, or scold you. But either result turns you on, so you hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.
He merely peers down your shirt before tugging your pants down slightly to confirm something. “So your underwear does, in fact, match. What an interesting development. Now then…how should I punish you for such dishonest behavior?”
hello hello Hannah! Hope you’re having a great timezone!
So I read your fic for Jinshi since I finally started watching Apothecary Diaries the show has a tight grip on me now and I was wondering if maybe you could do something for Jinshi again if you feel up for it?
Can be whatever you want, full fic, head canons (although my one request would be to ask if it could be smut?) even that if you don’t feel like it then fluff is perfect too.
Thank you if you do and no worries if you don’t want to!
Helloooooo! I'm so happy you've discovered Apothecary Diaries! I apologize in advance, I know this was supposed to be smut, but I had too many good laughs writing this and it ended up lowkey being comedic material lmao. I love Jinshi. Anyway, thanks for the request, and welcome to the Apothecary Diaries fandom!
NSFW Warning
The Missing Piece
He had a dick.
He had a dick, he had a dick, he had a dick. Oh fuck, Jinshi had a dick. He wasn’t supposed to have a dick. But he had one. He had one and it was very big and it was very hard and it was pushing up against your butt at this very moment. You’d tripped and he’d caught you -at the cost of his secret- and now you were both planted firmly on the ground, one with a raging boner and one with a soaked cunt. And, GOD, was it embarrassing. You’d never once questioned that he was a eunuch, even with all of his flirting and flouncing around, but now you were very much aware that he was not, in fact, a eunuch AT ALL.
You quickly pulled yourself off of him, cheeks flushed and underwear stained. You hurriedly excused yourself, spitting out a quick thanks for him breaking your fall, and then booked it the fuck out of there. You could hear him laughing behind you, but you paid no mind. You were too busy overthinking every encounter you’d ever had with him. All the times you’d poked fun at his lack of a member. All the times you’d whispered innuendos into his ear, teasing him with what you knew he couldn’t have. And now you’d been one cloth away from reaching home base with him after one stupid fall. And your stupid body had the stupid nerve to be soaked.
If you could’ve avoided him for the rest of your life, you would’ve. Alas, a week was the best you could do, and even that was pushing it. In the rear palace, Jinshi was in control of anything and everything, and it was near impossible for anyone, least of all you (he liked to keep you close in particular) to take a step without him knowing about it. You could only plant so many obstacles to keep him busy, but you knew eventually he’d find you. Besides the fact that you were his closest confidant and most useful informant, reporting on all happenings within the palace as one of its court ladies (ranking high enough to have access, but low enough to be virtually invisible), you were also just his favorite form of entertainment and he’d damn near lose his mind if he didn’t have your company to cure his boredom. So it was only a matter of time until he caught up to you; the only real question was, when he finally caught you, did you ignore the massive elephant in the room or did you poke it with a stick?
“You know I pay you to report to me, right? And I’ve not had a report for almost a week now. Wonder why that is.” A voice chimed out from behind you and you could almost hear his smirk. He was having too much fun with this situation.
Your brow twitched. So the bastard was going to be smug about this? Fine. If he was relishing in the discomfort this was causing you, you might as well even the score. You plastered on a faux smile and turned to face him, giving him an obligatory curtsy. “Jinshi, to what do I owe the grand pleasure of your presence?”
He chuckled, amused at your fake show of manners. “Drop the formalities. It’s just us. You can speak freely.”
“You have a dick.” There. Now you were both uncomfortable.
He choked on his own spit. He did say you could speak freely but you never failed to surprise him with just how freely you spoke. “...I suppose I can’t convince you it was nothing more than just my tunic bunching up?”
You snorted. “Jinshi, does your tunic have a tip? And does that tunic’s tip pulse?”
He let out a short laugh. “It appears I’m caught. Alright, I concede. I have a dick.”
You blinked. You hadn’t expected him to outright admit it. You’d expected to dance in circles with him, make him sweat a little, before finally wringing the confession from his throat.
He could tell you were struggling with his sudden admission. It made him grin. “And before you ask, yes, I’ve had it since birth. I didn’t just glue it on.”
“Well, duh!” You spit out. What, now he had jokes?? Didn’t he know this was the stupidest thing to be joking about?? God, he drove you crazy.
He seemed to be enjoying your reactions. He took a step closer to you. “Wanna touch it? Confirm its existence?” He teased.
If he wasn’t the most high ranking official here, you would’ve slapped him. You gave him a pinched smile. “Sure. I’ll touch it with my shoe, just let me wind up real quick-”
His eyes widened. “Wait, wait, wait! That’s not what I meant.”
Your brow twitched again. “Oh, I know what you meant.” PERVERT. You didn’t say it but he knew you were thinking it.
He exhaled. “Okay, I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I’m just messing with you. How about we both just go back to the way things were before you found out? Yeah?”
You wanted nothing more than to do that. Buuuut…. You couldn’t. How were you supposed to go back to falling asleep at his desk when you were too lazy to go back to your room, after a daily report turned into a lengthy strategy session? How were you supposed to go back to ripping the blankets off of him after he’d overslept and tugging at his clothes to try and change him yourself? How were you supposed to not overthink every time that he touched you, wondering if maybe he wanted to touch you longer, to touch you lower?
You bit your lip. Did you even mind when he touched you? It’d never been an issue before. He was always fidgeting, always needing to play with your pinky under the table at a meeting, or needing to tug at your bracelet while he poured over paperwork, or needing to nudge your foot with his, and you never minded before, but would you mind now? Would you mind if he wanted to touch you differently, if he wanted to touch you urgently? Your cheeks began to grow warm. How had you never seen how you’d felt about him until he suddenly had a dick? Were you that shallow? God, you hoped not. Of course, you’d always thought he was attractive objectively (though you’d never tell him or he’d gloat for ages), and his company was at times pleasant to enjoy (and you’d never tell him this either or he’d never leave you alone), but maybe you’d never seen him as a love interest before because he wasn’t someone you could settle down and start a family with. But now, what if he was?
And it didn’t help that he wasn’t taking this seriously. He was teasing, he was taunting, he was downright torturous. It seriously made you want to slap him.
But right now, he was looking at you like you held the world in your hands. Like his world might collapse if you didn’t agree to going back to what you were before. Like he might lose something precious to him if you didn’t. And you didn’t want to overestimate your own worth to him; after all, you might just be a useful pair of eyes to him at the end of the day, but the way he was looking at you now made you feel like something to him, even if it was barely something. Did you want to be something to him?
He broke the silence. “You’re not going to ignore me for another week, are you? Please don’t, I can’t take it.”
God, he couldn’t just say stuff like this. It made you want to kiss him and stay by his side forever. “I won’t.” You said finally.
He exhaled. Then he grinned. “Good, cuz I need my favorite plaything.”
Oh, this asshole. “You know what? I’ll touch it.”
His smile dropped from his face. “Wh-what?”
You smirked, stepping dangerously close. “You asked me earlier if I wanted to touch it, right? Sure. Let me cop a feel.”
He swallowed and backed up a few steps. “I was j-joking. I wasn’t serious…”
“Oh come on. Pretty face like yours. I’m sure you must’ve done it tons of times before; it’s not like this is anything new to you. And you must be pretty pent up, working in the rear palace. I’m sure you need to let off some steam, right?” You purred, trapping him against the wall with your next few steps.
His eyes widened when his back hit the wall.
You almost wanted to stop, you weren’t even sure where you’d found the nerve, but it was like he’d lit a fire within you and it was too late to back out now. “Jinshi…” You murmured, before trailing a hand up his thigh.
“Wait! I’m a vir-” Your hand trailed up his length and brushed across his tip. In an instant, the front of his tunic was soaked. He slid down the wall, gasping for breath as he collapsed on the ground. “gin…” He finished through panted breaths, head arching back to rest on the wall as he rode out his orgasm. It wasn’t like he’d never touched himself before, but you touching him was something completely different.
You pulled away suddenly. “You’re a what??”
He laughed, half exhausted and half ashamed. “Caught me. I’m a virgin.”
Oh shit. You dropped to your knees in front of him, and bowed low to the ground. “I’m so sorry! I was only teasing, I didn’t know you were a virgin. And I sure as hell didn’t think you’d…you know…”
“Come on my clothes?” He offered weakly.
Your cheeks filled with crimson. “Yeah. So did I… I mean was that your first… did I take your…?” You swallowed, completely unable to finish your sentence.
He laughed again and you were glad he could laugh because you certainly couldn’t. “I hardly think brushing across it counted as my first time. At least, I’m not counting it. So you didn’t take anything. And it’s not like I haven’t touched myself before, you know.”
You scrunched up your nose. “Ew- okay, I did not need to know that.”
He grinned and leaned in close to your ear. “In fact… I’ve done it a couple times to you.”
Your breath hitched.
A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Don’t think you’re the only one who can play the teasing game. I bet you wanna know what it’s like when I’m touching myself to you, yeah?”
Before you could protest (you weren’t sure how you’d protest anyway; it was suddenly very hot in here and your throat was suddenly very dry), he had his cock in his hand, precum drizzling over his fingers, mixing with his previous messy release. If you hadn’t just seen him come a minute ago, you would’ve thought he’d never gotten off a day in his life, with how painfully swollen it looked, veins engorged along his rigid length.
Your previous assessment of him from the few seconds you’d spent in his lap turned out to be completely correct. He was huge. And you were drooling. Without even realizing it, you’d reached a finger out to dance over his tip. He hissed and bit down on his lip to keep from coming again.
“You’re such a tease,” He groaned.
Before you could pull away, he seized your wrist and pulled you into his lap. You landed exactly where he wanted and exactly where you hoped you wouldn’t. But there was no denying how good it felt. Especially when he began to thrust his hips upwards to meet you with delicious friction.
You let out an involuntary moan.
He inhaled sharply. “God, the sounds you make…” His hands found your hips, holding you tightly in place, like he thought you might try to make another escape before he could get off again. You wouldn’t, not this time. Not now that you knew how good he felt.
You matched his rhythm, grinding against his erection in a similar fashion.
His eyes widened when he realized you were giving in to him. “Fuck…” He pulled you in for a kiss. It was sloppy at first, desperate. Too much tongue and then too much teeth, like he didn’t know how much time he had before you wanted to stop. When you wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing against his lips, and settling yourself closer to him, he finally relaxed, realizing you wanted this just as bad as he did.
His lips trailed a bruising path down your neck, painting his desire for you in pinks and purples across your skin.
“Jinshi…” You murmured, arching your head back in pleasure.
“I don’t think…” He pressed another hungry kiss to your collarbone, “My name has ever sounded so good…”
When his hands began to undress you as his kisses made their way lower and lower on your body, you finally stopped him. “Wait, wait.”
His brows furrowed. “What is it? Change your mind?”
You shook your head quickly. “It’s just… do you really want your first time to be with me?”
His gaze softened when he realized what your concern was. “And why wouldn’t I want it with you?”
“Don’t people usually save their first time for someone special?”
“They do. So I guess I’m in the clear.”
“I-what?”
“You are someone special-” His lips found the curves of your breast and you shivered, “-to me, you’re special. You’ve always been special.”
“Jinshi…” You whispered in awe. You’d hoped to be something to him, but you never would’ve dared to dream you’d be this.
“If you want to stop, we can stop. But tell me now, or I won’t be able to hold myself back.”
Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging his head away from your chest. When he looked up at you in surprise, you pressed a deep kiss to his lips. “Do I look like I want to stop?” You gasped out.
He chuckled. “Whatever you say, princess.”
He laid you back on the floor, resting you on top of your discarded dress. For a moment, he just stared at you, taking in your beautiful, naked form beneath him.
“Don’t tell me you’re all talk.” You teased.
He scoffed, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement. “Can’t I just look at a gorgeous woman for a moment?”
“Not if she’s naked and cold. Better warm me up quick, Jinshi, or I’ll find someone else to take my first time.”
His eyes widened. “Wait you… you’re a virgin?”
Your cheeks darkened. “Well, I’m about to not be a virgin in two seconds, so hurry it up please.”
You thought he’d laugh at you but all he could do was smile like a kid on Christmas. He smiled like you held the world in your hands and his heart right beside it. It made you want to kiss him. So you did. You pulled him towards you and buried him in your lips. And he lost himself in you, tongue finding yours eagerly, like he wouldn’t stop until he couldn’t tell your taste apart from his. You were so love drunk and sky high, you almost didn’t realize he was lining up to your entrance.
But your lungs nearly collapsed when you felt him spear through your eager entrance.
You groaned, loudly.
He stopped abruptly. “Did that hurt?” He started to pull back out.
“Don’t you dare.” You hissed, wrapping your legs around him tightly and yanking him back to you.
He gasped as he sunk deeper into you, your cunt swallowing every hardened inch of him greedily. “Princess…” He whined and it nearly killed you.
His head rested on your chest as though he didn’t have the strength to both hold himself up and thrust into you at the same time. His thrusts were carefully measured, like he wasn’t sure how much you could handle. Like he wasn’t sure how much he could handle.
“Jinshi, look at me.”
He lifted his head slightly, innocent eyes meeting yours. You’d never seen his eyes so pure before. So in love. It was like looking into your own eyes. Because you were sure you were looking at him the exact same way.
“I can take it.”
He looked away.
“Jinshi. I’m serious, I can take it. I need you.”
His head whipped back up to you, eyes darkening as he took in your words. “You need it, huh? I suppose if you need it…” He spread your legs wider, and before you had a chance to breathe, he snapped his hips forward, driving himself balls deep inside you. You yelped and it only encouraged his speed. One of his hands braced itself on your hip, while his other hand reached up to intertwine with yours, pinning it to the ground. For how roughly he was fucking you, you found the gesture strangely romantic.
Sweat and arousal drizzled down your trembling legs as he continued his assault, and he took it as a sign of your satisfaction.
You could tell he was getting close, because he started murmuring the sweetest nothings to you as he pistoned in and out of your dripping cunt.
“I… fuck… I love… I love you…fuck…” He panted as his pace quickened.
“I love…you too…”
His eyes widened as though he hadn’t expected you to reciprocate. Suddenly he yanked his cock out of you and keeled over to the side, hips bucking wildly at the air as hot ropes of milky cum shot out of him in wild spurts, staining the ground.
As he rode out his orgasm, you suddenly felt the urge to cover your mouth with your hand. He raised a curious brow at you. Then he heard your muffled laughter and his cheeks flushed red.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just… it’s awfully romantic that my love confession made you come.” You teased.
He pouted slightly but then a devilish look crossed his face. “I wouldn’t be so cruel to the person who holds your release in his hands. You still haven’t got off yet, right? I could just hover you on the edge of an orgasm all night.” To prove his point, he spit on two fingers and drove them deep inside you.
You inhaled sharply. “Jinshi!”
He smirked and curled his fingers, hitting your g-spot in a teasing manner before quickly withdrawing, opting to play with your clit instead.
“Fuck!” You groaned, exasperated at the absence of his fingers.
The LADS Men Catch You Masturbating To A Photo Of Them
Yall can read the title but this is mature content. Big thanks to @tbaluver my lovely beta reader who helped me not rip my hair out as I was writing and editing and editing and editing again.
Xavier
Xavier was frustrated again.
He knew it was his own damn fault for sending you a photo of him with his shirt slightly unbuttoned but it was two damn buttons. He didn’t think you’d be so hot and bothered by a single photo of him that you’d hide yourself away in your room and jack off to it. If he’d known you’d neglect him like this, opting to pleasure yourself to a photo of him instead, he never would’ve sent it in the first place. Sure, you hadn’t known he was awake, and sure you hadn’t known he’d been dying to see you, but you could’ve sent him a message saying you were horny. You could’ve asked for help.
Now he was sulking outside of your bedroom door, listening to you whimper and whine, and it was driving him crazy. Finally, he’d had enough, and without warning, he charged into the room.
You yelped and reflexively yanked the blanket over yourself. “Xavier! Wh-what are you doing here? I th-thought you were at home asleep.”
“So you figured you’d quietly get off to him and let me continue sleeping, is that it? Do you think I can’t satisfy your needs like he can?” His eyes darkened as he made his way towards you.
Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Xavier. What do you mean ‘he’? It’s literally you. I’m getting off to you.”
He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above you, allowing your phone to fall to the side. “No, if you were getting off to me, it would be my cock getting soaked and not your fingers. Wanna try that again?”
You swallowed. “Please… please Xavier. Help me. Please, I wanna come on your cock.”
“That’s much better.” He growled.
He wasted no time at all in yanking down his pants and positioning himself over you. He dragged the tip of his swollen cock along your slicked entrance, allowing your arousal to drizzle down his impressive length. He slapped it against your clit a couple times in a teasing manner, but then finally just jammed himself inside you. Maybe if you’d approached him from the very beginning, asked for his help nicely, he would’ve been gentle with you. Would’ve taken his time to coax you open, would’ve eased his way into your warmth.
But you hadn’t even considered him as an option and it drove him mad. So he slammed his hips forward and drilled himself deep inside you, thrusting against your tightening walls with a punishing tenacity. When you whined, he silenced you with a devastating kiss, tongue invading you with overwhelming force. You’d remember him next time you were in the mood- that he would make sure of.
He spent the remainder of the night bullying his way through your pussy until you were cum drunk and sky high, shuddering through multiple orgasms, and slurring the words he made you repeat after him, “I promise I will only come on Xavier’s cock… I promise I will only come on Xavier’s cock… I promise…”
It was almost like Sylus sent you the photo on purpose.
He was half naked on top of a motorcycle, grease dripping down his toned abs, and smirking like a sinner; what girl wouldn’t come to that?
So when you suddenly found yourself tugging off your soaked panties, and settling into a comfortable position on your bed before beginning to tease circles onto your clit, you felt it was only the most reasonable of ways to respond to his photo. If he didn’t want you to touch yourself, he should’ve been there in person to let you touch him.
Little did you know, he’d come home early, and had begun to watch you from the doorway, eyes alight with both amusement and arousal. He’d intended for the photo to get a reaction out of you, but he hadn’t intended for the reaction to be quite so… primal. He continued to watch intently as you slid your slicked up fingers in and out of you, lust-filled eyes laser-focused on his photo. You imagined his abs were wet because you’d come all over them and it nearly sent your orgasm crashing into you. You bit your lip to stall its arrival, prolong your pleasure for a moment more.
Sylus watched as you sunk your teeth into your plush lips and god did he want to sink his teeth right into them next. But he stayed still, he stayed silent. Waited for the opportune moment to show his hand.
It wasn’t until you moaned, “Fuck- Sylus, I need you,” that he made his entrance, sliding onto the bed beside you. Before you’d even had time to properly be shocked, he was spreading your legs open wider.
“I think you can do better than that, sweetie.” His fingers guided your fingers deeper inside you, slamming up against your sweet spot.
You gasped and dropped your phone in surprise.
He watched as it fell to the floor with a smirk. “Looks like you’ll have to rely on me now.”
He spent the next few, agonizing minutes summoning your release with every deliberate stroke of his fingers, only to let it sink back inside you, before bringing it to your forefront again and repeating the cycle over and over. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you throbbed around him, desperate for one, single orgasm.
“Sylus!” You exclaimed in anguish, “Please. Let me come.”
“How badly do you want to come, kitten?” He grinned as he flexed his fingers, flicking them against your eager core once more.
“Badly.” You groaned.
“Ah, so not that bad then,” He smirked.
You attempted to glare at him but he cut you off with a sharp flick of his fingers. You cried out in pleasure and pain. “PLEASE- Sylus, I wanna come so badly. I NEED to come.”
He nuzzled against your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before purring, “So come for me then. Don’t hold back a single sound.”
A spark of heat flashed through you when you heard his words. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you clenched around both of your fingers, dancing on the edge of ecstasy. Then, your orgasm finally found you. You cried out his name as the warmth spread through your veins.
When your eyes eventually blinked open again, you were met with the sight of him licking his fingers clean. His wild eyes held your gaze and he smirked.
“You could’ve just told me you missed me, cutie.” Rafayel smirked as he stood with his arms crossed in the doorway.
Just an hour ago, Rafayel had sent you a photo of him shirtless on the beach and now you’d been caught red handed, masturbating to it. Embarrassing. If pressed, you’d argue that it was simply impossible not to touch yourself when faced with such a photo. You’d noticed he’d taken a dip in the ocean just before taking the shot because a tantalizing trail of water was trickling down his abs, and it was enough to get you dripping as well. Honestly, it was a wonder you hadn’t come already with how furiously you’d fingered yourself after receiving his photo. Anyway, he’d come home from his beach trip earlier than you thought and that led to your current predicament.
You bit down on your lip, blushing slightly. “I, uh… I missed you. Help me?”
“Don’t have to ask me twice.”
In an instant, he was spreading your legs apart. You’d assumed he’d take over fingering you and were, instead, pleasantly surprised when his head dipped down to lick a stripe up your glistening folds.
“Raf!” You gasped.
“Sorry… my lips are chapped from all that salt water and I’m just so… thirsty. I was hoping you could give me something to drink, cutie.” He grinned up at you before delving back inside you with his tongue. He wasn’t kidding about being thirsty. You felt him collect every drop of arousal from your quaking walls with each hungry flick of his tongue. You thought he might just drown himself inside you if he continued.
You attempted to pull away slightly, just to allow him air to breathe, to allow him a moment of respite from your suffocating warmth, but he pinned your legs in place before you could get too far.
“You think the God of the Sea is in need of air?” His voice dropped to a low growl. He looked up at you with dark eyes, as though offended at your underestimation of him.
“I think Rafayel is in need of air.”
His eyes softened slightly at your concern. Then his lips curled into a smirk. “Lemurians can survive the darkest depths of the ocean; I’m pretty sure I can survive the depths of my love.” He swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud teasingly. “But the real question is- can you survive me?”
He didn’t need your answer. He already had it the moment he buried his tongue back inside you and you responded with choked whimpers. He reveled in the sounds he drew from your mouth with every drag of his tongue here and there but what he relished even more was the moment you were convulsing against his tongue and coming down his throat. As you shuddered through your release, he thought to himself that he could honestly get drunk on the taste of you. One orgasm wasn’t enough. He’d have you emptying all evidence of your arousal into his mouth until he couldn’t taste anything else, until he’d forgotten the taste of anything else.
You had just sent him the most innocent looking photo of you. You were walking in the park, wearing a white sundress, the sunlight had caught your eyes just right, and your hair was blowing in the wind. You couldn’t have looked more perfect.
But you weren’t wearing a bra.
His first instinct was to look away, ashamed. But then he realized you weren’t here to scold him. So he took another peek. His pants quickly tightened around him as his eyes followed the curves of your breast through your nearly-see-through dress. And when his eyes settled on the peaks of your nipples poking through the sheer fabric, he bit down on his lip to keep the precum from trickling down his pants. He stained them anyway. He couldn’t help himself; he was hard as fuck.
You were still strolling through the park; he was sure he had time to relieve himself. So he made his way to the bathroom.
One hand gripped his phone tightly; he didn’t dare to drop it. The other stroked his aching length aggressively. He imagined the way your perky tits would bounce as he drilled himself deeper into you, imagined the way he’d stain your dress with his cum. He was so lost in his thoughts that even after he’d come down the toilet, he didn’t notice that you’d come home and made yourself comfortable in the bedroom. It wasn’t until he opened the bathroom door that he heard just how comfortable you were.
“Caleb!”
At first, he thought you needed him. He quickly rushed to find the source of your voice, worried you were hurt. Then he realized you were in the bedroom with the door slightly ajar, and his footsteps slowed.
There it was again. “Caleb!” You moaned.
His recently emptied erection flickered back to life. He thought you were calling his name because you needed him. He didn’t realize you were calling his name because you… needed him. Well, that was an easy fix.
He slipped through the doorway, ready to be at your service. What he was not ready for was just how debilitating the sight of you touching yourself to him would be. You had a shirtless photo of him propped up in one hand, fingers curled inside you with the other, thrumming at your insides with an ever increasing rhythm. Moments ago, he’d been more than prepared to assist, but now all he could do was stand and stare, mouth slightly agape.
“Caleb!” You exclaimed again. But this time, your voice was tinged with embarrassment instead of pleasure. His eyes found yours and he realized you’d caught him staring.
“Sorry, sorry! Just comin’ in to see if you needed some help.”
Your cheeks burned bright. If you’d had more pride, maybe you would’ve kicked him out. Closed the door in his face, made him promise to forget he ever saw you like this. But you’d been desperately chasing the high that was always just a fingertip out of reach, and you’d begun to get frustrated. “My…” You cleared your throat awkwardly, “My fingers aren’t long enough.”
He took a couple cautious steps towards you. “I…I can help with that.”
You swallowed as he settled onto the bed beside you. Caleb was always helping you. Helping you reach the nice glasses on the top shelf, helping you jumpstart your car when the battery died, helping you set up the wi-fi in your new apartment. You just never imagined he’d be helping you with… this.
You held your breath as he spit on his fingers, and released the breath in a low moan when he slid them inside you. In no time at all, he’d already found the sweet spot you’d been straining to reach.
“Fuuuuck.” You hissed, eyes rolling back as he caressed your wet heat.
He tried to focus on pleasuring you, on lavishing his attention on every spot that made you gasp and groan. But as you grew tighter around his fingers, clenching as the ecstasy built up in your core, he felt his pants grow tighter around him again. He bit down on his lip and tried to ignore his own selfish desires.
“You know…I can help with that.” You murmured, voice seeped in lust, as you laid eyes on the bulge in his pants. Your fingers danced around his belt, waiting for his permission.
He nodded a little too quickly and soon, he was fucking himself into your hand. It almost became competition, the way you’d stroke him faster and he’d finger you deeper.
He wasn’t sure who came first in the end, but he was sure he’d stained your dress. He’d have to buy you a new one. Maybe he’d stain that one too.
“You know…” He stepped closer to your bed, where you’d shrunken under the covers, away from his prying eyes. “When I said physical activity was good for you, I didn’t mean…masturbation.”
You swallowed. “I’m just… blowing off some steam?” You offered weakly.
If he had any witty remarks to make about your current situation, they quickly stuttered to a stop when he realized that you’d been holding a picture of him in your hand (and to his surprise, it was a picture of him fully clothed, in…surgical gear??) while you touched yourself. Crimson seeped into his cheeks and his ears soon followed. He started to talk but when no words came out, he cleared his throat again, sweat rolling down his Adam's apple.
“Would you…like some help with your… activities?”
Your eyes widened. Here he was, avoiding all eye contact with you like it was the plague, and he was offering to help?
He swallowed when you tugged the blanket off of you and spread your legs in response. “I… I’ll take that as a yes?”
“Yes…I… I want you to touch me, Zayne.”
His lips found yours in an instant. At first, his kisses were soft, tender. Then they grew increasingly more passionate as his fingers found their target. He moaned against your lips, heat enveloping him as you clenched around him. He didn’t dare pull away from your lips, partly because he was happy just to be kissing you, and partly because if he pulled away long enough to watch himself fuck you wide open with his fingers, he might just come all over his pants and his dignity.
Somehow, touching you was just as arousing for him as being touched himself. Somehow, every time you squeezed or squirmed, he felt your pleasure as if it was his own. Somehow, every torturous trail that his fingers teased into your walls was a torment to him too. Somehow, he needed your release as badly as you did. He needed you to come all over his fingers. He needed you to cry out his name. He needed you to arch your head back and let him devour the length of your neck as you rode out your orgasm. And he needed it like he needed air.
It was this ravenous tenacity that brought not one but two orgasms flooding through your core in a matter of minutes. Zayne completely missed the first one, still focused on wanting to take care of you, and you were too breathless to tell him you’d already come so he continued vigorously pumping away until you were overwhelmed by your second release of the night. It wasn’t until he began thumbing at your clit that you finally choked out a protest, tears in your eyes.
“Z-Zayne! F-Fuck… I’ve… I’ve already come t-twice… don’t you think you should give me a minute to…to breathe?” You begged in between panted breaths.
His eyes widened. “Twice?”
You let out an exhausted laugh. “So Doctor Zayne can find the g-spot just fine, but he can’t tell when it’s overloaded? A+ for anatomy, Doc, but maybe like a C for observational skills.”
He blinked at you. “You’re giving me a C? I’ve never gotten a C in my entire life.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” You shook your head, laughing again. “Well, as your professor, I’m afraid I can’t award you anything higher than a C.”
“Surely there’s something I could do to make you… reconsider?” Suddenly Zayne’s slow, agonizing circles resumed on your clit.
You bit back another moan. Oh god, he was at it again.
Sleeping (Or Trying To) Beside Your Two LADS Mains
Okay, we all know the LADS men don't share, but this is hypothetically if you were able to convince two of them to get into bed with you. To SLEEP, and by sleep, I do mean sleep lol I know we horny up in here but no smut today. Thank you @tbaluver for beta reading for me, I love youu!!
Caleb/Raf
You start the night all laying on your sides; Caleb spoons you from behind while you spoon Rafayel from behind.
At first, Rafayel is completely smug and satisfied about this. If anything, it’s like you’re ignoring Caleb and lavishing your love on Raf and Raf alone. You literally have your back turned to Caleb. There’s no question about who is your favorite in this position. Or so he thinks.
It isn’t until he starts to feel the bed shaking ever so slightly that he realizes your butt is rubbing up against Caleb and Caleb is rubbing back. Rafayel sits up in bed immediately, demanding to switch spots. Caleb simply smirks, amused, and allows it.
Raf doesn’t think too much of it; once again, he’s thinking he’s got the better end of the deal. He proceeds to resume where Caleb left off, happily snuggling up behind you. That is until he realizes your face is buried in between Caleb’s shoulder blades, and your arms are wrapped tightly around him, and now suddenly, Raf is feeling very cold and very lonely from his position behind you.
You suddenly start to feel like you’re playing a game of musical chairs as Raf demands yet another switch.
Eventually, in the end, you all just lay flat to play it fair because you don’t feel like having the bed shift to and fro all night like a boat rocking on the waves just because Raf can’t make up his mind about where he would rather be.
Caleb/Xavier
You have to lay flat while Caleb and Xavier flank either side of you. There’s no other way to sleep.
You’re also the only person that can fall asleep, as Caleb and Xavier lie awake, engaging in a private war of who can subtly (it’s not actually that subtle) lay claim to more and more of your skin. When Caleb lays his arm across your chest, Xavier latches his hand onto your hip. When Xavier latches his hand onto your hip, Caleb curls a leg around your left leg. When Caleb curls his leg around your left leg, Xavier claims your right leg by doing the same. And if Caleb squeezes tighter, so does Xavier. And if Xavier tugs you closer to him, so does Caleb.
Eventually, you do wake up and sigh, “Are you trying to split me down the middle? Because I’m feeling very much like I’m a game of tug of war right now when I’d rather be feeling asleep. If you don’t cut it out, you’re both sleeping on the floor.”
Spoiler alert- they do end up on the floor because as hard as they try to fight it, they can’t help their own jealous tendencies. But, hey, at least you got to find out what a king sized bed feels like when you’re the only one in it.
Caleb/Zayne
Caleb and Zayne originally agree for the three of you to all lay flat with you in between them.
But in the middle of the night, Caleb secretly tries to tug you over to his side, his hand inching its way across your body to pull you towards him, only to be stopped by Zayne’s hand nudging him off. Caleb shoots a glare at Zayne but Zayne’s eyes are closed as if he’s been asleep this whole time. Caleb tries again but, again, Zayne stops him, still feigning asleep (though a small frown has formed on his face that shows he disapproves of Caleb’s childish behavior). Eventually, Caleb resorts to using his evol to draw you to him and Zayne freezes his hands in response.
Zayne never tries to take you for himself as he can tell you’ve probably noticed by now what’s going on and he knows you’re likely to lecture his head off for resorting to the same measures so he falls asleep peacefully by your side, thinking about the earful Caleb is going to get from you in the morning when you’re awake enough to lecture him (though Zayne has scooted closer to you, squeezing your hand tight, as his own way of laying claim to you subtly). He may be more mature about it than Caleb, but he still gets jealous.
Caleb/Sylus
Caleb discovers that Sylus doesn’t sleep at night so he makes Sylus “stand guard” because “at least one of us should be awake to protect you at all times,” and then he quickly falls asleep with his arms around you before Sylus can protest. He thinks he’s getting the better end of the deal, having cuddled you all night to his heart’s content, until morning hits and you’re still fast asleep and Sylus wakes him up by shoving him off the bed with a grin, saying, “It’s your turn for a shift, didn’t you say that at least one of us should be awake to protect her at all times? Time to clock in, lover boy.”
Caleb’s ready to fight for his position by your side, but by the time he’s gotten up from where Sylus shoved him to the ground, you’ve already cozied up to Sylus, encircling your arms around him protectively. Sylus falls asleep smirking, as he sinks into your warm embrace.
“Traitor.” Caleb mutters as he watches the way you wrap yourself around Sylus like his own personal shield. How’s he supposed to kick Sylus out now when you’re clinging to him for dear life?
Eventually, he stops sulking (he can’t stay mad at you when you look so precious dozing off like that, sleep buried beneath your lids, and hair tousled from tossing and turning) and he actually takes his job as your guard seriously. Of course, he’s all too happy when you finally wake up and it’s his turn to shove Sylus off of you.
And the next night, when it’s time to do it all over again, Caleb is sure to hold you tighter, to hold you closer, to hold you more intimately, just to rub it in Sylus’ face while he can. Before the “shift” changes again.
Raf/Xavier
Xavier knows if he forces Rafayel off of you with physical force or with snotty remarks, it’ll only make him look bad in front of you. After all, Rafayel has the biggest, brightest eyes and those big, bright eyes are an extremely dangerous weapon when put to good use (aka pouting). He can’t be seen taking out his jealous aggression on someone as innocent looking as Rafayel (even if he’s far from innocent). If he doesn’t play his cards right, he’ll be sleeping on the floor and Rafayel will be the one closely cozied up to you all damn night.
So Xavier decides to fight fire with fire.
Using HIS big, bright eyes, he snuggles up beside you and asks if you want to sleep beside the plushies that he won you from the arcade earlier (making it very clear that he’d be oh-so-happy if you did). You oblige him, heart melting at the sweet sight, and Xavier decides that Rafayel’s side is where he should put the plushies.
Rafayel is NOT having that. Using the same sickeningly, sweet smile, Rafayel asks if you could please sleep with the plushies HE won you as well. And when you agree, though puzzled at the sudden similar request, he proceeds to tuck HIS plushies in between you and Xavier.
Eventually, the bed is filled with so many plushies that you end up sleeping buried beneath them, and with no room left, Raf and Xavier end up sleeping on the floor. But it’s hardly sleeping, as the second one of them inches closer to the bed with the intention of slipping in beside you, the other is instantly awake to fight them off (with another phony smile, murderous eyes, and carefully placed plushie).
Raf/Zayne
Zayne sleeps flat and is very much an unbothered king, and you lay on your side, resting your head on his outstretched arm. Rafayel ends up spooning you from behind because he feels it’s the only way he can be close to you like this. But… that means that Rafayel is also somewhat snuggled up to Zayne, as he’s got nowhere to lay his head but on top of Zayne’s arm as well.
He finds it very uncomfortable at first, as you’re the only one he wants to cozy up to, but you’re already cozied up to someone else. How else is he supposed to get your attention?
Then he realizes that, at times, Zayne’s evol fluctuates throughout the night as he falls in and out of deep sleep. Rafayel can’t stand the way you shiver, even with his arms wrapped so tightly around you, so he uses his evol to keep you nice and warm. He’s just happy to finally be of some use to you. And eventually, he realizes that Zayne is of some use to him too. When Rafayel starts to get too overheated, Zayne cools him right down. Not too much later, the three of you fall into a comfortable slumber as the balance of Zayne and Rafayel’s temperatures ease you into a relaxing night’s rest.
Raf/Sylus
At first, Sylus pays no mind to Rafayel sleeping in your bed. To him, Rafayel is a child. Why would he be intimidated by a child? But as he observes Rafayel more, he starts to realize how similar they both are. They both have a dark side, hardened by the harsh realities of the world, but when it comes to you, they can’t help but soften. They both paved their own ways in their respective industries and now make monumental amounts of money. And they both have a poetic way of speaking to you, yet sharp tongues when it comes to anyone else. It’s eerily somewhat like looking into a mirror. If the mirror was shorter and less handsome, Sylus thinks to himself, smirking.
So, of course, Sylus decides to test out the playing field.
“You know,” Sylus leans over, causing Rafayel’s grip to instantly tighten around you (which, in turn, amuses Sylus immensely), “crows eat fish for breakfast.” His tone is taunting, like he’s daring Rafayel to try and fight for you with whatever measly arsenal he’s got.
But Rafayel has dealt with his fair share of the Underworld. He knows how to talk to men like Sylus.
He snorts. “And gods eat dragons for breakfast, so what?”
Sylus grins, loving every second of this conversation. “Now, now. You don’t have to be so touchy.”
“And you don’t have to be here at all.” Raf retorts.
Eventually, they’re completely ignoring you. They spend the night bantering back and forth and you almost start to get jealous that they’re paying more attention to each other than you.
Finally you interject, “Do you guys just want to sleep with each other??”
Xavier/Zayne
Charlie the baker is a nobody; Charlie the baker can get the fuck out of here. All it takes is a few snide remarks and Charlie is a goner. But Zayne? Doctor Zayne, Childhood Friend Zayne, Grandma’s First Pick Zayne, he’s a different story. If Xavier wants him out of your bed, he’s going to have to do a lot more work than just passing petty comments.
He spends all day prancing around town, telling young and old alike, whether it’s at the library, or the grocery store, or the post office, that if you have any affliction whatsoever, big or small, that Dr. Zayne at Akso Hospital will fix it for you, just ask for Dr. Zayne, that’s Z-A-Y-N-E.
When Zayne calls to tell you that he just can’t make it to bed tonight, he’s completely overbooked at work, Xavier feigns sympathy and then proceeds to hog you all to himself.
If, by some miracle, Zayne makes it home on time to sneak in an hour or two of sleep with you, snuggling his way into bed beside you, running his fingers lovingly through your hair, before trying to wrap around you from behind (you’re currently cozied up to Xavier’s chest), Xavier will notice the sudden shift in the bed, the extra weight, and he’ll mumble in his sleep (he has it down to a reflex) something along the lines of, “Does anyone hear a phone ringing? Sounds like the hospital calling…” and then he’ll tighten his grip around you, slumbering all the while, innocent as a baby.
Xavier/Sylus
Sylus, with his millions of mansions and his extravagant cars, is not threatened in the slightest by Xavier with his measly apartment and his peasantly subway pass. So when Xavier, like a rabid dog, pulls you onto his side of the bed, metaphoric teeth snapping and snarling at any sudden movement on Sylus’ part, Sylus can only respond with amusement.
Xavier is not sure what is worse, the fact that you’ve forced him to share a bed with another man (who’s also your lover), or the fact that said lover seems to care so little about Xavier’s presence beside you, even having the audacity to pull out a book and start reading it on the complete opposite end of the bed as though he has no care whether you’re in his arms or not. Xavier would lose his mind if he couldn’t hold you. And here’s a man who appears unbothered by the sight of having his loved one nestled so tightly in the arms of another man. Xavier doesn’t understand him at all.
Sylus doesn’t understand Xavier either. He knows there’s no changing your mind once you’ve made it up. You wouldn’t have asked for the three of you to all sleep in one bed if you hadn’t already thought about the weight of the situation, and you wouldn’t have invited either of them into bed at all if you didn’t care about them both tremendously. Of course, Sylus has his own opinions on the matter of sharing, but he knows he’s important enough to you that he doesn’t have to prove he deserves a place by your side, so he doesn’t understand why Xavier is fighting tooth and nail just for a scrap of your attention. He lets Xavier have you (for tonight, at least), just because he feels sorry for him. And he makes sure to enjoy his book immensely so as to set Xavier more on edge.
Sylus/Zayne
While neither Sylus or Zayne are too thrilled about having to share you, they’re both in agreement that neither of them are getting any sleep anyway (as work keeps them both up late), so they plant themselves on either side of you with their laptops and tablets (set to the lowest brightness settings so as not to disturb you) and proceed to busy themselves with their work.
Occasionally, Zayne will reach over to tuck your hair behind your ear and Sylus will reach over to brush his thumb across your cheek, or Zayne will tug the blankets around you tighter and Sylus will blow warm air on your icy hands, and for a moment, it seems like there might be a truce in place. Of course, they’d both like to be the only one on your mind, but it’s slightly less worrisome to know that if anything were to ever happen to them, you’d have someone else to look after you, someone that cared for you just as immensely.
Maybe it’s this unspoken truce that allows them both, once the exhaustion has seeped into their overworked bodies, to fall asleep peacefully by your side with no huss or fuss on either end. You simply get to sleep beside the two people who care for you the most.
Synopsis: You'd love to be the emperor's wife. Everyone would. But you've got a secret that makes you very unqualified to be his wife, so you do what anyone with a secret does- you hide and try to keep to yourself. But Jinshi's not used to women keeping to themselves around him. Just how are you going to keep this secret when he starts poking around?
Approximate Word Count: 3600
Tags: Angst with a happy ending?
You hadn’t been trying to catch the emperor’s attention. But you were the only one who wasn’t, and that’s what caught his attention.
As the daughter of a high ranking official, you were invited (and then forced by your parents) to attend a garden party at the palace, where the newly crowned emperor would then choose his empress and concubines from among the party guests.
Now, it wasn’t that you didn’t want his attention. In fact, he was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen, and you were sure that everyone else was thinking the same thing. But you had certain physical limitations that made you an ill-advised choice for either his wife or his concubine so you figured there was no point in getting attached to someone you had no chance with.
With that in mind, you banished yourself to the farthest corner of the garden, with only the bees and the flowers to keep you company. When a server brought you a tray of carefully arranged delicacies, you graciously accepted, popping one into your mouth before beaming bright and stealing another. With a satisfied sigh, you turned to speak to the waiter.
“I’m sorry, I know this is rather imprudent of me, but could I perchance meet your chef? I’d like to thank them for the delicious treats.”
He blinked at you curiously.
“Oh, I apologize. You have permission to speak.”
He gave you a small smile. “Thank you, my lady. As flattering as your request is, it is generally frowned upon for the lower and higher classes to interact. Especially at such a…” He gave a wary glance at all the nobility socializing around you, “Public event.”
“Ah, I see. You’re right, forgive me, we are in a rather public space. I’ll accompany you to the kitchen then.”
His eyes widened. “The k-kitchen?”
You nodded as though it were the only acceptable conclusion.
“You mustn’t! It’s rather…chaotic at this hour, with so many guests to serve. I’m sure your ladyship won’t find the kitchen interesting in the slightest. I will convey your thanks to the chef myself, if it is of such great importance to you.”
“It’s no trouble for me. I’d really like to properly express my gratitude. And I must admit to having an ulterior motive, as I’d also like for your chef to teach my kitchen staff their recipes, so you see, we have much to discuss.” You explained.
The waiter gave another cautious glance around the garden, before finally sighing and nodding. “Alright, as you wish, my lady. I shall take you to him.”
And with that, you quietly slipped off to the kitchen with him. Though it can’t have been as quiet as you would’ve liked, because the moment the emperor laid eyes on you sneaking through the maze with a servant boy, he was instantly intrigued. Did someone dare to have an affair with his own staff right under his nose, at his own engagement party? What kind of woman were you exactly? Excusing himself, he followed carefully behind.
When you arrived at the kitchen and the emperor realized you’d snuck out of his lavish party just to convey your thanks to his chef, he was touched. And he couldn’t help but be drawn to the ways your eyes lit up when you discussed potential new recipes for the chef to try, or the way your brows furrowed as you wondered aloud if certain ingredients would mix together well or not, or the way you emphatically pleaded with the chef to impart his knowledge to your own kitchen staff like you’d melt and die if he didn’t.
He stifled a laugh and then, realizing his own actions, wondered what on earth he was hiding his presence for. This was his palace, after all. He stepped out of the shadows, clearing his throat. “You know, the royal palace doesn’t hire just anybody. Of course my staff is well accomplished.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks when you heard his voice behind you and you turned to him, burying your chin deep into your chest as you bowed lower than you’d ever bowed in your entire life. “Your highness! I apologize; I didn’t see you there. Forgive me.”
The kitchen staff followed, bowing low and humbly.
He gestured for them to rise up. “There’s no need for that. I thank you for taking such great care of my party guest.”
They nodded and made their quick departure, leaving just you and the emperor all alone. Great.
“Well…I suppose I’ll be on my way as well. I’m sure you have more important people to see. Good day, your highness.” You gave him another respectful bow before turning away.
“Not so fast.”
You froze, nerves trembling within your veins. “Y-yes, your h-highness?”
Now he had to laugh aloud. “You speak so comfortably with mere kitchen staff and yet you find it difficult to speak to me?”
“With all due respect, your majesty, it is more difficult to speak to you. You require more care when speaking.” You admitted, though unsure why.
“Why? I’m just another man, same as them.”
You raised a brow at that. Man or not, emperor or not, he was being rather dense. “You are not ‘just a man’. You are this kingdom’s ruler. One does not speak to the emperor the way they would a friend.”
“So I’m not the emperor then. Not today. Today, I’m just a friend. So talk to me.”
This guy was going to give you a heart attack for real. You honestly couldn’t tell if he was baiting you into being improper only to reprimand you, or if he genuinely wanted something as simple as true conversation. But, as you gazed into his eyes, you thought you glimpsed a hint of loneliness behind them. Like maybe he never asked to be emperor. Like maybe he never asked to be so far above his peers that no one dared to hold a conversation with him.
So, completely forgetting your original intention of avoiding him, you decided to humor him. You talked with him. The two of you wandered the palace grounds, talking about anything and everything under the sun. And you talked for so long that they sent out a search party for him.
You stifled a laugh as he pulled you deeper into the maze. “Are we supposed to be hiding from your guards? And at your own party?” You whispered.
He grinned. “It’s my party, I can do what I want. Shh, they’re coming this way.” He slipped his hand over your mouth before yanking you behind a hedge.
Once the guards had passed by, he removed his hand. “You okay?”
“Yeah, you?”
“No, I don’t want this to end.”
You laughed. “Well, we do have to go back eventually. Or they’ll think I kidnapped you.”
“That’s a great idea; you should kidnap me.” He teased, nudging you with his arm.
You snorted. “And be beheaded? No, thank you.”
“Who’s going to behead you? I’m the emperor, after all; what I say goes and under no circumstances is any harm to befall you.” His eyes gleamed, true and sincere.
You smiled at him. You couldn’t help it. Somehow, in the span of a few hours, you’d become dear to him. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, the way he walked with you, the way he talked with you, the way he didn’t want to stop talking to you. You didn’t want to admit that he’d also become dear to you, so you opted instead for a witty rebuttal.
“Oh, is that right? You weren’t saying that when you were convincing me to climb a palace wall with you ‘for the view’ and I almost fell off of said wall. Which made the view less impressive, by the way. It’s hard to get a good look when you’re falling through the air.”
He laughed lightheartedly. “But did you fall? No, because I caught you. So, as I said, I won’t allow any harm to come to you.”
“Oh, my hero.” You pressed your hands to your chest dramatically, to which he gave an exaggerated (yet entertained) scoff. You wanted to laugh at his theatrics as you were sure he wanted to laugh at yours. But you knew it was getting time for the fun to reach its end. “We should really get back. They’ll become suspicious that we’ve disappeared together.”
“And what suspicions could they surmise from our time together?” His voice was light and amused- clear evidence that he was still in the mood for games.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe that you’ve chosen to make me your empress or something.”
“And what if I have?” His teasing tone vanished in an instant.
Your heart stuttered in your chest. “Don’t jest- I’d be a ridiculous choice. Besides, it’s rude to neglect your other party guests and then refuse to even consider them for the position. We can’t have the emperor scorning all of his high ranking guests; it would be chaos at best.”
“So I’ll make an appearance. Apologize for my behavior. Flash a smile here, a wink there. All will be well.”
You rolled your eyes, amusement dancing on your curved lips. “And, once again, you’re beloved by everyone. The end.”
“Beloved by everyone except one.”
“One? Who would dare?” You teased.
“You.”
You almost coughed up your heart, but you refused to let your emotions guide your reaction. “That’s untrue. I’m quite fond of you. Kind of like a pet.” You opted instead for humor, once again, your default armor of choice.
His eyes narrowed. “A…pet? Would a…’pet’ do this?” In an instant, he had you pinned up against the column of the gazebo, lips meeting yours in a sudden burst of heat.
You wanted to drown in his kiss. You’d spent so long resisting his dazzling eyes and his charming smile, but when it came to his intoxicating lips? You didn’t stand a chance. You kissed him back, against your better judgement, and when he felt you give in to him, his smirk curled against your lips.
“So, I’ll see you tonight then? After I’m done playing the role of the responsible king?” He grinned unabashedly and it nearly made your chest cave in.
“Tonight? What’s tonight?” You murmured breathlessly, still drunk on the taste of him.
“Tonight, it’s just us. No bothersome party guests within sight. I’ll come to your room.”
You wanted to tell him no. To tell him that this was all moving too quickly. To tell him that he was wasting his energy on you. To tell him that you couldn’t be his. But all you could stutter out was, “T-tonight…” and he took it as your agreement. He kissed you once more and then disappeared into the maze, returning to his party shortly after.
Upon your delayed return to the party -having waited a few minutes after he had left so as not to arouse suspicion anymore than you already had- you feigned ill and retired to your chambers. You wanted to leave. To go for a walk, far, far away, and have that walk cure you of these unnecessary and unwanted feelings. You wanted to be anywhere but here, where he said he’d meet you. But your traitorous feet only allowed you enough energy to pace your room before finally giving up and collapsing on the bed, waiting for his return, longing for his return.
You stared at the ceiling as you waited.
He couldn’t possibly pick you to be his empress, could he? He must have been joking, right? How were you going to tell him the real reason why you couldn’t be his wife? Why you shouldn’t be his wife. How were you going to let him down easy?
You bit down on your lip until it hurt. But…then again, would it really be so bad to be his concubine? To let him coax you into bed? To pretend you could be something to him every time he held you, to ignore the way you felt when he’d leave in the morning, attend to another concubine’s needs? You shook your head, discouraging the idea and jolting you back to reality.
He would come tonight, looking for your love, and you’d simply say you had none to give him. You’d deny the thundering in your heart and you’d tell him why it could never work between the two of you and then he’d be disappointed but ultimately he’d understand that you were a poor choice to begin with and then you’d return to your home town and act as if you never had such pounding in your chest to begin with. You’d forget him and he’d forget you. Or, more likely, he’d forget you, and you’d spend the rest of your life trying to explain away the aching in every fiber of your being. But that was how it should be. You thought you had already made peace with the fact that you’d never be anyone’s wife; it shouldn’t have pained you so much not to be his in particular. You were getting greedy, getting selfish. You wouldn’t wish your companionship on any man desiring a family, not now that you knew what you knew about yourself. And you certainly wouldn’t wish it on him, someone you’d genuinely begun to care about (and someone you would have to train yourself to forget you ever cared about).
So before he even knocked on the door, having heard his footsteps in the hall (and having been embarrassed that you’d already memorized the sound), you ushered him inside your room, and closed the door before anyone could spot the two of you together. And before his excitement at your supposed eagerness could take hold of him, you made sure to express your denial of his advances as plainly as you could.
“I don’t understand. So you…agreed to let me come to your room, you yank me into your room once I arrive, and now you say you don’t want me?” His brows furrowed, hurt and confusion clear as day across his face.
“I didn’t say I don’t want you. I said we can’t be together.” You attempted to soften the blow but it pained you to even say the words.
Surprisingly, your response worked wonders on him. His tension eased immediately upon hearing your words. “So you do want me.”
Your eyes widened, panic shooting through your veins. “That’s not what I-”
“I know. But it’s what you feel, right? So whatever is making you think we can’t be together, I’ll figure it out.” His voice was confident, reassured. There was no hint of arrogance or exaggeration in sight. He was simply speaking the truth; he would clear a path for you to be by his side, no matter what it took. And that only made you want to be by his side more.
But you couldn’t.
“Jinshi, you don’t underst-”
“Zuigetsu. You can call me by my real name.”
Your words froze in your throat. No one called the emperor by his real name. No one would dare. You half expected your head to be sent flying just at the thought of calling him by his real name.
“There’s no way that I-”
“Please. I’ve never heard anyone say my name.”
Well, crap. You couldn’t deny him when he pleaded. You almost couldn’t deny him anything. And you didn’t want to. You wanted to be the woman he swept off her feet. You wanted to be the woman by his side. “Zui….Zuigetsu.” You murmured weakly.
His complexion brightened immediately, eyes brimming with joy. “It sounds so much more perfect than I thought it would.” His thumb ran across your lips, eliciting a shiver from you. There was no lust in his actions, only pure, unadulterated happiness, and it was the kind of happiness you could get lost in.
So, throwing your better judgement out the window once again, you indulged him. You lost yourself in him, lost hours to his welcome company.
You’d assumed he’d wanted to enter your bedchambers for superficial purposes, for more primal purposes, and you probably would’ve entertained his fantasies until reality took hold of you again. But he simply wanted a more private environment to continue his earlier conversation with you, asking more of your likes and dislikes, begging you to repeat an earlier story he’d found entertaining, telling you stories of his own, until you were laughing so hard he had to slip a hand over your mouth to avoid drawing unwelcome attention, grinning as he did so.
So the night came and went, and you played pretend to your heart’s satisfaction. And then the morning came and you regretted your actions once more.
You couldn’t keep doing this. Not to him. Not to yourself. It would only make leaving even harder. No, today would be the day when you’d tell him the truth. The dreaded truth. The devastating truth.
So you sent a messenger to his room with gifts you’d brought from your hometown and you invited him to join you for conversation, one last time.
“Spoiling me already?” He plopped down beside you, all giddy and glowing.
“I thought you might like the treats. Since you were telling me you’d never tried them before.” What were you doing? You were supposed to just spit out the truth and here you were, small talking him.
“I very much enjoyed them, but I think I’d enjoy them more with you, so I saved some to have with our tea.” He smiled, sincerity practically dripping from his lips, as he offered you the tray you’d previously sent to his room.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay for tea.”
“Oh, I see. You’re doing the thing where you push me away again, claiming that we’re not meant to be. I told you; I’ll take care of everything. Do you not trust me?” For such a serious conversation, his tone was relaxed, like he was already assured of your feelings. You cursed your own carelessness for allowing your feelings to surface so plain for him to see.
“It’s not that-”
“Then what is it?”
He was going to be the death of you. But you may as well dig the grave yourself, if your relationship was already within the Grim Reaper’s grasp. “I can’t have children.” There. You’d said it. Your awful secret had finally come to light.
You could tell he was not expecting that, because his features had frozen in place, his breath trapped within his lungs. Maybe he was expecting you to have a scorned past lover, maybe he was expecting you to merely be insecure about inheriting the title of empress. Whatever he’d been expecting, it can’t have been nearly as bad as the dreadful truth.
The truth that you yourself had not yet made peace with. You’d cried yourself to sleep the day the doctor told you and you cried almost every night since then. You’d always dreamed of marrying for love (as rare as it was during these times) and starting a family with your loved one. And now those dreams were nothing more than a relic of the past. The past belonging to a happier you. To a healthier you. To the ideal version of yourself. To the version of yourself you wish you could present to him right now. But you couldn’t change your reality, much like you couldn’t change your DNA. Your fate had already been signed, sealed, and delivered to you, and all that was left was to accept it.
“Okay.”
Time stuttered to a stop. “W-what did you say?”
“I said, okay. I told you, no matter what it is, I’ll figure it out.”
You sighed, exasperation seeping into your voice, “This isn’t something you can just figure out. I physically cannot have children. Do you understand what that means? It means you won’t be able to carry on the royal line with me. It means you’re better off with someone else.”
“I didn’t say I’d fix it. I said I’d figure it out. And I’ve already figured out that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, who cares if we can’t have kids? Marry me.”
Your stomach tangled in a knot. “I can’t marry you. I’m not right for you. Besides being physically limited, I’m also extremely selfish. I won’t want to share you with another concubine.”
“So don’t share then. Marry me.”
“You don’t understand. You would be giving up the idea of children altogether. That’s a difficult decision to make; I wouldn’t make it so lightly.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t understand. I don’t make this decision lightly; I make it with all the love I have in my heart because I love and want you, and only you. So marry me.”
In that moment, you burst into tears. You knew you shouldn’t be bawling like this in front of the emperor; your parents would’ve been ashamed. But you couldn’t help yourself any longer. All those nights, attempting to comfort yourself when no one else could. All those days, wishing for your imperfections to simply disappear. And here he was, offering to love you through it all. He didn’t see someone in need of fixing, he simply saw you and wanted you. And he didn't see you as an imperfection, he saw you as perfect for him.
And if you couldn’t give him children, you made up your mind that you’d damn well give him every ounce of love that you had to give, and every day of the rest of your life.
Zayne looks away, but not before you catch a glimpse of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He takes a moment to adjust his tie, loosening it around his neck, before finally turning back to you, now fully composed.
“You know, one usually has a ring when they propose.” He tries to keep the amusement out of his voice as he eyes you on one knee, empty handed.
You clear your throat awkwardly. “Well, I figured it was the…thought that counts?”
This time, he smirks slightly. “And what was your thought behind this?”
“That I can’t wait any longer and want to marry you?” You offer up sheepishly.
“Well, in that case, I suppose I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer then, should I?” He gets down on one knee, in front of you, purposely knocking against your propped up knee, as he mimics your pose. Then he pulls a ring box out of his pocket.
You gasp as your eyes rest on the diamond. “Wait you…but I thought you weren’t gonna…you have a...ring?”
He chuckles softly. “I do. And if someone had waited a mere minute or two, I would’ve had the ring out and the question asked before you even had time to dirty your pretty leggings. But I suppose if you had waited, you wouldn’t be the person I fell in love with, now would you?” He teases, reaching out to gently caress your rosy cheek.
You pout slightly, but nuzzle against his hand nonetheless. “Hey- weren’t you going to ask me a certain question? Quit teasing already and get on with it.”
His eyes sparkle with amusement at your impatience. “It appears my fiancee is being quite the handful today.”
You whine, “I’m not your fiancee yet! You have to ask first!”
He gives a slight grin before clearing his throat and straightening his posture. “Will you do me the honor-”
“Yes!”
He shakes his head, laughing to himself softly. “She tells me to ask and then doesn’t let me finish. How very like her.”
Your blush darkens. “I was just…I got excited, okay? You can’t fault me for that.”
He smiles warmly and leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. “I could never fault you. Not when I’m over the moon.” He slides the ring onto your finger with ease, thumb caressing it gently, as though ensuring his love will secure it tightly around you. Then he bends down to press a kiss to your adorned finger.
You swallow down your nerves. “I-I think you missed. My lips are up here.”
His lips twitch, amused. “My mistake. Allow me to rectify it.” He cups your face in his hands, warmth searing into your cheeks, as he gazes into your eyes lovingly. Then, his eyes flick down to your lips, and before you know it, he’s kissing you. His lips move against yours gently at first. Then, after a couple of deeper kisses, after testing to see how far you’ll let him go, he begins to consume you like air. He groans against your lips, hands trailing from your hips to your thighs.
You blink. “What? But I…but you…you don’t want to marry me?” You try to keep the hurt from your voice.
He bends down and flicks your forehead. “When did I say I didn’t want to marry you?”
Your brows furrow. “Well, but I…I got down on one knee and I just asked you if you’d marry-”
“And? I didn’t say no, did I?” He crosses his arms, waiting for your response.
“...No. But you said stop-”
“Exactly. I just said stop. Cuz you’re going to ruin all my plans if you keep going.”
You blink. “Your…what?”
He gives you a soft smile. “Cmon, cutie.” He holds a hand out to you and helps you off of the ground. Then, when he’s helped fix your dress, he leads you down to the beach.
The entire path down to the beach is lit with candles and flower petals, and when he finally leads you to a large opening, you notice that written in seashells in the sand are the words “Marry me?”
Your eyes widen and you almost drop the ring you bought for him.
He quickly catches it, laughing slightly. “Hey now, don’t go dropping my wedding ring in the sand.” Then he gets down on one knee, and holds out the ring that he bought for you. He tilts his head towards the question in the sand. “So. You gonna answer my question before the waves wash it away, cutie?”
“I-yes! Of course! Of course I’ll marry you!” You throw your arms around him and then he really does drop the rings.
“Well, there goes my undying symbol of my devotion to you. I guess we can’t get married after all,” He teases as he watches you desperately sift through the sand to find both of your rings.
“I’ll-I’ll find it!” You say quickly, panic starting to seep into your voice.
“Hey.” He catches your hands. “I was just messing with you, you know that right? Rings or not, I’d marry you. Wedding or not, I’d marry you. Heck, if you want to get married right here, on the beach, with just the two of us, surrounded by nothing more than sand and seashells, I’d be happy. More than happy.” He nuzzles against your nose.
You smile at him fondly. “Alright. But I hope you know that seagulls don’t count as witnesses and we need witnesses to get married.”
“You mean to tell me that I just taught them how to speak and write, just for them to be ineligible as our witnesses? That doesn’t seem fair, now does it?” He jokes, a grin spread widely across his face.
“You know what else isn’t fair? Hiding the rings and pretending you dropped them just to see how much I care about finding them.” You whisper in his ear, before slipping into his jacket pocket to retrieve your two rings.
He holds his hands up, amused. “Fine, fine, so I’m caught. Couldn’t help it, cutie. I had to get back at you for almost ruining my carefully crafted plans. It was adorable to see you so flustered though. I almost started to feel bad.”
“I hope you know you’ll have to make it up to me.” You say, sliding his ring onto his finger before shoving your ring into his palm and holding your hand out for him.
He chuckles and takes the ring, guiding it gently onto your finger. “Oh dear. But you’re insatiable, how will I ever be able to make it up to you fully?”
“You can start with a kiss,” You say innocently.
“I can do that.” He scoops you into his lap and holds you against him as he claims your lips in a hungry kiss. A hand trails up your back and presses you tighter to him. After a couple of dizzying kisses, he begins to trail them down your neck, only stopping to murmur one thing.
“Only one problem with your request. I’m insatiable too.”
He holds the ring box above your head as you jump to reach it.
“Caleb!” You exclaim, exasperated.
He grins. “Just tell me. What’s it for? Who’re you giving it to?”
You deliver a soft punch to his chest. “I won’t tell you until you give it back to me, jerk.”
He gasps dramatically. “Don’t tell me. Is it for me? Oh no,” He purrs. “Did I just ruin your big proposal?”
You roll your eyes. “Well I’m not gonna propose now that you’re being a dummy.”
He seems to instantly realize the error of his ways, his smile freezing on his face. When he stops glitching, he immediately shoves the box back into your hands and starts to walk out the door.
“Caleb?” You call after him.
“No, no. We’re going to try this again. I’m gonna walk in and act like I haven’t seen you at ALL today. Kay? Be riiiiight back.”
“Caleb!” You shake your head and bite back a smile as he closes the door behind him. God, what a goofball. You wait for him to make his dramatic entrance. And dramatic it is.
He swings the door open. “Oh, my deeeear girlfriend! How are you feeling today? Feeling extra…romantic?” He teases, nudging you with his arm as if that’s your cue.
You burst into laughter. “Caleb, you’re killing me.”
“Sorry, sorry. Was that too obvious? I’ll come back again.”
You pull him towards you before he can leave again and kiss him. He melts into your kiss, hands finding the back of your head to ground you against him.
“Marry me, stupid?” You murmur as you pull back.
He chuckles. “Coulda done without the stupid.”
You cross your arms. “Fine, I take it back. No proposal for you today.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” He protests, pulling something out of his pocket. “Maybe this will help you reconsider?” He gets down on one knee and opens the box.
Your jaw drops when you see the emerald.
“You remembered-”
“That you don’t like diamonds? Course I did. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t know your favorite gemstone? So, how bout it? Marry me?”
Your gaze softens and you bend down to wrap your arms around him. “Of course I will, dummy. There’s no one else I’d rather marry.”
“And don’t you forget it.” He teases, poking your nose slightly. When you roll your eyes, he chuckles. Then he straightens, eager to put the ring on you. After admiring it on your hand for a while, you look up to realize he’s staring at you expectantly.
You laugh. “Waiting for your turn, huh?” You take the ring you’d bought for him and slide it onto his finger. Then it’s his turn to admire it.
“Do you like it?” You ask shyly.
His smile spills across his face. “Like it? I love it. In fact, I love it so much that I think, to celebrate, we should…” He pulls you closer to him, nipping at your ear in a way that makes you shiver, before murmuring, “Consummate the marriage?”
You blush bright red. “Caleb! We’re not married yet.”
“Mmmm. So a practice run then.” He nuzzles against your neck, pressing heated kisses against your skin.
You let out a whine, “You’re going to be the death of me.” But you cave in and let him carry you over to the bed after he begins to suck and bite at your neck the way he knows you love.
He looks down at you greedily, eyes roving over every inch of your entrancing figure splayed beneath him. “Then til death do us part.”
Sylus chuckles when he sees you get down on one knee. “Well, kitten, this is certainly unexpected.”
You grin up at him, half triumphant that even he couldn’t see this coming. “So? Will you marry me?”
He pretends to think for a moment, tapping a finger on his chin. “Just one question, before I answer you. Does this mean I should cancel the trip to the Eiffel tower, the order of a thousand roses, the world famous orchestra, and the two bottles of champagne I ordered for when I was going to propose?”
Your eyes widen and you quickly rise to your feet, snapping the ring box shut and hiding it behind your back. “Pretend I didn’t say anything.”
His eyes sparkle with mirth. “Pretend you didn’t say anything? But, kitten, you went to aaaaall the trouble of setting this up. How can I just pretend nothing happened?”
You begin to pout. “Syluuuuuus. Just forget it, okay? I want the roses. You wanna go to Paris? We can go to Paris right now, I don’t even need to pack. And champagne, I loooove champagne. I’m not even picky, it doesn’t even need to be cold. So, you know, you can break it out now.”
His lips curl into a smirk. “Oh, but darling, I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing your proposal. This is your big moment, after all. We should enjoy it.”
You let out a long, exasperated sigh. “You’re enjoying this a little too much, aren’t you, Sy?”
His laughter rumbled in his throat. “Well this is the highlight of my day, after all. I wouldn’t want anything to disrupt it. Besides, Paris can wait.”
You threw your head back in frustration and let out a whine, “Paris can’t wait.”
He leaned forward in his seat, eyes glinting with a devious gleam. “I suppose I can oblige if you’d like. But there are consequences for taking back a proposal. Are you sure you’re ready to face those consequences, sweetie?”
You nod emphatically. “Yes, I’ll do anything. Just please, take me to Paris. Let’s go get engaged.”
He grins devilishly. “As you wish, my love.”
In an instant, he’s summoning Luke and Kieran to get his private jet up and running.
You wait inside the jet while he makes a few calls. Your heart beats so loudly that you almost don’t hear the jet engines humming as they roar to life. You’re getting engaged tonight. That’s enough to make anybody giddy. Your feet swing back and forth over the edge of the leather chair while you wait for him to return.
As promised, he sets a bucket of ice onto the table, with two bottles of champagne resting neatly inside. You sit up straight, peering at them curiously. The labels are in a language you can’t read and one bottle looks more expensive than your entire apartment. You reach for one, when he catches your wrist.
“Not yet, sweetie. Patience. After all, I’ve not proposed yet.”
You pout but you obey, sitting on your hands to keep them from fidgeting. “So, how long until we’re in Paris?”
He raises a brow at your impatience, but he’s more entertained than irked. “Long enough. But,” He leans in, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “I can think of a few things to do while we wait.”
You shiver at his words. “Like what?”
His fingers brush the hair from your neck as he nuzzles against it. “For starters, you still have to make up for taking back your proposal.” His words escape his lips in a low hum, as he continues to travel down your neck.
“And how…” You swallow. “How would I do that?”
He sits up to gaze into your eyes. Then his gaze dips down to your lips before he leans forward and captures them in an eager kiss, thumb massaging your jaw line as he presses deeper into you.
“You…want to…marry me?” Xavier asks, his wide eyes look down at you, stunned and sparkling.
“Of course I do. I love you.” You smile at him warmly.
His gaze softens and his heart skips a beat. This is everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s ever dreamed of, everything he’s hoped for. He just didn’t think that you’d be the one asking. It makes it all the more special that you asked. It makes his lungs ache and his heart burst and his blood pound. It makes him over the moon, sun, and stars.
“So, do you think you could give me your answer before my knee gives out? Kinda sore down here.” You joke as you attempt to shift some of your weight off your knee.
He laughs softly as he accepts the ring. “Of course I’ll marry you.” His eyes trail down your body, darkening slightly. “But…I could get used to seeing you on your knees.”
You swallow. “Xavier-”
Before you can continue, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, tongue driving its way through your mouth. He loves you. His fingers tangle in your hair. He loves you. He swallows down your moan. He loves you so much. He laps at the bite mark he buried in your lip. He loves you so, so, incredibly much. Finally, he presses your back against the carpet, hips aligning with yours as he sinks down on you.
The next two hours fly by in daze as he proceeds to lavish his loving attention on you.
It isn’t until you’re practically glued together by nothing more than sweat, arousal, and affection, as you both lay boneless and breathless on the worn-out couch, that he allows you a break. You rest in his arms, trying not to move any aching muscles as you snuggle against him, pressing a tender kiss to his chest.
“Can’t believe we’re…engaged.” He murmurs as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.
“Mmm, engaged and ecstatic.” You whisper back, eyes twinkling.
He smiles down at you before kissing the top of your head. “I’m ecstatic too, my love.”
His arms wrap around you tighter, but you groan at the pressure around your back, remembering how he had just fucked you into the ground so hard you thought you might actually fall onto the first floor. He quickly releases you, giving you an apologetic look.
“Let me make you some tea and I’ll draw up a warm bath for you.” He says, eager to help in any way you can.
You nod and roll off of him slowly, trying to ignore your sore limbs.
As he moves around the house in preparation, you wrap your robe around you and walk to the balcony. You notice there’s a fireworks show going off nearby. You admire the bursts of color that bloom across the night sky before quickly fading, and you wonder what the fireworks could be for. As far as you can tell, there’s no holiday any time soon.
Xavier joins you at the balcony with two, steaming cups of tea.
“Baby, look. There’s fireworks. Aren’t they gorgeous?”
Xavier smiles at you, tenderly tucking a hair behind your ear as he watches you enjoy the show. Not as gorgeous as you are, he thinks to himself.
“What do you think the fireworks are for?” You ask him curiously.
His eyes widen all of a sudden, and he chokes on his tea.
“Xavier, are you-”
He waves you away, trying to assure you he’s fine between gasped breaths as he points back to the night sky.
You raise a brow at him but then turn back to where he’s pointing.
Suddenly, four words appear in the sky in beautiful, bright bursts. “Will you marry me?”
Stunned, you turn back to Xavier who is rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.
“So I, uh, kinda lost track of time with you and forgot I ordered the fireworks.” He admits. He pulls a ring box out of his pocket. “I know you already asked me, but…”
“Yes!” You throw your arms around him excitedly.
He winces but he smiles. “Still sore, dear.”
You raise an amused brow at him. “And who’s the one who wanted to go for two hours?”
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This is nearly 8k of fluff, some mild angst mixed in with a happy ending. All the characters in this show exist in this fic and are present, but this is x reader cuz I love Kit and I write what I want lmaoooo. Hope the two people who might read this will enjoy! @pixelcafe-network
Kit was always Catherine’s; you never even imagined there was a version of Kit that wasn’t Catherine’s until you met the Kit that was Lili’s. You’d known him since you were both children, shared more passions than he did with Catherine, shared more secrets than he did with Lili, and yet, you always knew that there was no version of Kit that existed for you and only you. You never even kid yourself into thinking there was. But…sometimes, you imagined the Kit that would go horseback riding with you when there was energy needing to be expended, the Kit that would run to you when your father was sick and there were tears needing to be shed, would one day turn into a Kit whose eyes lingered on you for a second too long, whose heart beat for you just a second too fast, who met you in his dreams for as long as he could before he opened his eyes to reality. Because you were always the version of you that loved him so deeply and desperately.
If you were honest with yourself -something you had trained yourself never to be- you’d loved him since the moment you met. Since the moment you were introduced to Catherine and Kit at a social function. Since the moment you noticed his eyes drifting to a vase filled with exotic flowers that your mother had offered as a gift to the host. Since the moment you whispered in his ear when his fiancee wasn’t looking, “They’re pretty, aren’t they? I heard that just being around one is enough to make any sickness all better.” His eyes had widened, and though his feet stayed planted on the ground, hand still curled into his mother’s, you had known then that he was a boy filled with curiosity and awe. When the adults were busy exchanging pleasantries, you had climbed onto the table on which the vase sat as its centerpiece, and stolen the smallest of flowers, the flower that nobody would notice missing from its arrangement, and then rushed back to Kit’s side, eager to slip the stem into his open hand. “Are you sick? Your eyes got really big when I said it makes anybody feel better. I hope this helps.” Kit had taken a moment to admire each petal lovingly, fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to pull out his sketchbook. But then, to your surprise, he tugged on his mother’s dress, and when she bent down, he tucked the flower behind her ear instead. That was when you knew, for you, it would always be him. The boy who sacrificed an object of wonder, of value, of rarity, for a moment’s peace, for a mother’s smile, for a heartfelt wish. And it was your wish to be by his side ever since.
You had your first rude awakening after his mother died. The adults had whispered, as adults tend to do, about the fate of the Churches. About who would take on what role, about how the sons would live up to their mother’s example, about how their youngest son, in particular, was sure to disappoint. He had a tendency to run off on his own, to spend more time with the flowers and the animals than people. He never showed up properly dressed. He always had his shoes or his hair or his tie undone. He barely made eye contact with anyone at all let alone greet them with the dignity that someone of their status was owed. He doodled in his textbooks, doodled on walls, he even doodled on himself when he had no other surface available. How had a woman of such grace and elegance given birth to such a wild creature? He didn’t even cry at his own mother’s funeral. Didn’t utter a sound. What a strange child, they said.
It was then that you decided to run away with him. You took his hand, not caring who was watching, and let your feet carry themselves to the edge of his estate. Only when you were properly lost in the forest did he finally cry. You had rushed to wipe his tears away, swearing to him repeatedly that you’d find the way out if it killed you, only to realize he wasn’t crying about being lost. You let him soak your dress with tears, holding him until the sun started to sink in the sky. When the two of you finally made your way back to the main house, you got an earful from your parents about knowing your place. You apologized until your voice went hoarse. It didn’t matter that you had finally managed to get him to crack a smile when you taught him how to skip rocks in the river that day, it didn’t matter that you stuffed yourselves so silly on berries and mushrooms that you laughed to each other about your protruding bellies. Nothing mattered except for the fact that it should have been Catherine at his side.
Every day after that was a calculation. How loud could you laugh at Kit’s jokes before it became inappropriate? How long could your gaze hold his from across a room? How many dances should he have with Catherine before you were allowed to ask for one of your own? How far were you allowed to follow him?
When he left for London, you were conflicted. Part of you was happy he’d found a way to escape from that stifling life of his, even if it was only for a few years. Part of you wished to escape with him. To plop down at a desk beside him, get lost in a completely different world together, and never look back. It was for that reason that you made your excuses to visit London as often as was socially acceptable. You’d meet him for lunch, for a walk, for whatever he had the time for, for whatever he had the energy for. You’d snoop through his sketchbook, he’d challenge you to add to a page, and then he’d laugh at your lame attempt to draw his portrait. He’d ask if you were still writing, you’d give him a look that said your parents still disapproved, and then he’d ask you to write him something, reading over your shoulder even when you attempted to shoo him away until you’d finished. And then he’d praise you, like he always did, and it never failed to make your heart soar into the sky. Sometimes you’d go to a museum together; you always tried to pretend you were more interested in the art than him, but your eyes always strayed to his, to the way he gazed in awe at every piece, no matter how many times he’d seen them. But, even then, on his best days, on his worst days, he remained Catherine’s. No amount of distance between you and the aristocracy could change the fact that he was destined to be hers, and you were destined to be married off to the next best suitor.
You thought you had finally made your peace with it. That is, until you met Lili.
You met her artwork first, and knew you were screwed. To you, all she’d painted was a blue sky. Something you thought anyone could do. But to Kit, it was his whole world. You’d never seen his eyes so mesmerized, in all the years you’d known him. You always thought he was Catherine’s until he was Lili’s. You knew he wasn’t particularly fond of his engagement to Catherine but he had never been all too vocal about dismantling it either, so you thought that eventually he’d succumb to his fate. Turned out fate had a brush and was painting another path for him.
You met Lili at a bar. You’d already been to this bar a few times with Kit when he’d previously introduced you to Peter and Joffrey, but you were surprised to find that the artist of the blue sky he was so completely enamored with was in attendance this time. You wanted to question her, to find out exactly how close she was to him and what she felt for him. It didn’t take much effort on your part. She must’ve been nervous, and she was a lightweight. Within a couple drinks, she was telling you everything you would’ve wanted to know and more. But it only served to sink your spirits. She was completely ordinary. She had no thoughts of him whatsoever. And that was the most dangerous thing about her. She came with no hidden devices or motives; she came equipped with only a passion similar to his, and it was enough to unravel your entire decade of knowing him.
For once in your life, you were glad to have been ill during the ball that had gotten Catherine so completely worked up. You might not have recovered had you been present to see the way he’d looked at Lili when she’d donned the Silver Lily. You had never felt particularly close to Catherine, seeing as how you’d both been vying for the same person your entire lives, but as she described that night’s events to you, and you watched the cracks in her usually-flawless composure began to form, you couldn’t help but see her as a reflection of all the parts that you had worked so hard to hide yourself. Who was this woman who had come brewing a storm and upending everything you thought you knew? At least, with Catherine, if he married her, you knew his heart would never belong to her. His heart had never belonged to anyone but art. But here Lili was, a literal embodiment of all things artistic and whimsical and beautiful; of course he couldn’t help but fall in love. It terrified you to no end.
Even when his father died and you were there to console him through yet another death, you couldn’t help but wonder if it should have been Lili at his side. If Lili would’ve banished the look on his face, the sadness from his sagging shoulders. If Lili would’ve been a lifeline when all you were was an anchor.
But there was nothing like war to make your worries feel juvenile. All it took was one news article for you to understand that you had never truly known fear until this very moment. In the past, your biggest concern was Kit’s future. Who he’d end up with. If he’d take off running, travel the world, become a painter. If he’d stay home and uphold his family’s name. If he’d always be the Kit you knew, or if he’d become someone else entirely. Now, you saw there was a chance he might not have a future at all. You might not have one. You might not live until sunrise. The fear you’d felt in the past was a pinprick; the fear you felt now was a poison, seeping into your veins, slowly corroding away at the life you once knew, at the love you held dear. The newspaper had barely fallen from your hands, before you were rushing out the door.
Kit. Was he okay? Had he heard?
Lili. Shin. Did their country know? How would their country respond?
Kit. Where was he now? What was the fastest way to him?
Peter. Joffrey. Dorothy. Why, why, why? Why would this happen at such a pivotal point in their lives? They were so close to graduating. Would they be safe? They didn’t have the resources that you and Kit did.
Kit. Kit. Kit.
WHERE was he? HOW could you protect him? HOW could you be of use to him? WHY was he so far away? WHY hadn’t you simply moved to London, ignored everyone’s remarks, and stayed by his side? WHY hadn’t you told him how you felt? WHY was there suddenly so little time left?
You had never much liked being an aristocrat. Much like Kit, you found it restricting. If it wasn’t for societal rules, you would’ve had him in a church already. If it wasn’t for societal rules, your whole past and future might’ve looked different. But, now, as you desperately inquired on Kit’s whereabouts, you found that being a high ranking member of society had one significant upside. You were privy to information that other classes weren’t. And that was how you discovered that Kit had volunteered himself as a diplomatic assistant.
Your suitcase was packed before you even recalled clicking it shut. Your pen was moving before you even remembered grabbing it. You’d always loved writing, always wanted to be a writer. You just never thought writing would be of use to you the way it was now. You wrote the entire way to Drunnheim Hall. Richard was the only one home, but that was fine. Kit might’ve protested had he heard you were here. Richard was all you needed. You presented him with the series of letters you’d written to prove your value as a diplomatic assistant. And then, before he’d even read them, you presented him with the letters to give to your parents to tell them of your plans once Richard inevitably approved. He lectured you thoroughly on your brash behavior that was unbecoming of a lady, and the dangers you might face, dangers you’d never even dreamed of, growing up as sheltered as you had. But, from the moment you met Kit, you’d already been prepared to walk through fire and water for him. Today would be no different.
“Lord Richard- no, Richard.”
He raised an eyebrow at you, but you continued regardless. “I understand that with your father gone, you are needed here more than ever, so sending Kit alone is your only option, but I’m sure that even as stubborn and as strict as you are, you do not wish for your only brother to potentially find his demise at sea or in some unknown country without so much as a familiar face at his side.”
“He will have attendants-”
“He will have no one to truly lean on. He has never shouldered a burden like this before; please allow me to shoulder it with him.”
“You have never shouldered a burden like this either. And why would you? He is bound by a sense of duty, you are not. You should not even know about this war. You should be at home, with your pretty dresses, and your fancy teacups, and leave this to us. I cannot understand why you would willingly put your life at risk like this.”
“Richard, I refuse to utter the words to you before I have yet the courage to confess them to Kit, but you should know that I am willing to crawl through Hell and back for your brother, pretty dress or not. You talk about a sense of duty? I have a duty to my heart and that should be reason enough. If Amelia were going in Kit’s place, and I were you, would you not also be begging me to allow you to run to her side?”
Richard was silent for a moment, eyes traveling down the papers you’d given him. In truth, you hadn’t needed to convince him. The moment you’d barged through his doors, with that look in your eyes, he’d already known what you’d do for Kit. As prim and proper as Catherine was, you’d worked equally as hard to become a remarkable member of high society. You wouldn’t drop titles for nothing. You wouldn’t abandon a life of luxury, no matter how stifling it was, if it wasn’t for something of more value. Of the most value. In hindsight, Richard should’ve seen how you felt from the beginning. If you weren’t literally in wartime, Richard might’ve scolded you for your audacity. But Catherine was a proper lady. Even if she had a talent for diplomacy, which she did not, and even if she had the courage that you did, which she did not, her circumstances were more restrictive than yours. She was the only daughter of one of the most high ranking families in all of England. She could not simply board a boat and leave with Kit to god knows where. And as much sway as Lili had with Kit, she had nothing else. No useful skills for such a situation, no family pull to convince him to let her go. As far as he knew, she wasn’t even aware Kit was leaving. But here you were, knocking on his doorstep (more like banging down his door), and you had a knack for words, and you were well versed in politics. And you were one of many daughters from your household; you could be spared. And you were begging him -demanding him- to let you go. To let you save his brother from solitude. Of course, his duty told him he could not sacrifice the lives of any of his people just to ensure his brother had a moment’s company, but as hard as he’d tried, he knew he’d never been the big brother that Kit needed him to be. Maybe now was when he could start.
“Get in your car.”
Your eyes narrowed. “Richard, I’m not done tal-”
“Yes, you are. Get in your car. His boat leaves in a couple hours. And when you get to the pier, you better run like you mean it.”
Tears began to pool in your eyes. “Thank you, Richard- I mean, Lord Richard.”
He scoffed lightly, but a smile tugged at the edges of his lips. “It’s a little late for titles now, don’t you think?” He tossed you his family ring. “When you get aboard, show them this, tell them I sent you.”
You were already halfway to the door. “I understand. Thank you again.”
“When we meet again, I hope it will be to toast peace.”
Your thoughts and feelings were in such a jumble that you barely recalled your car parking, let alone you stumbling out of it. And then, suddenly, you were at the pier, running. You ran as if your life depended upon it, because it did. Your entire life, your entire world, was waiting aboard a boat, ready to set sail, and you’d be damned if you let the boat leave without you. As you ran, you wondered if Catherine and Lili had the same idea as you. If, at this very moment, they were also hoping they might sprout wings to carry themselves to him, instead of begging their legs to move faster. Catherine had always been more poised than you, more graceful. Lili had always been more creative than you, more free spirited. But, at this moment, you swore you loved Kit the most and that was all that mattered. Screw being the prettiest girl in the room. Screw being the most well mannered. Screw being the most artistic. None of it mattered if you weren’t the girl by his side when he needed it most. So you would get to the boat. And you would get to it before them. You would get to it before he even had the time to open his mouth in protest of your reckless behavior. You would get to it because you loved him more than you loved the comfort of your lungs, or the comfort of your bed, or the comfort of your own life. If you had two broken legs and a collapsing windpipe, you’d still make it onto the goddamn boat.
You collapsed on the deck, gasping out your explanation to the deckhand in between panted breaths, waving the ring Richard had given you as proof.
Kit rushed to your side in an instant. “You idiot! What the hell are you doing here??”
You didn’t answer him. Your chest heaved so much, you were worried you’d rock the boat.
He sighed, exasperated, and asked the deckhand to help him carry you to a spare room below deck. As you were about to reach the stairs, you heard Lili scream his name from the pier. You almost wanted to laugh. So she had the same idea as you after all. You wondered if she’d fling herself aboard. Then you could both collapse below deck together.
You waved him off to go see what she was saying. You leaned against a wall to catch your breath. The jealous part of you knew that you should’ve pulled him downstairs with you the second you heard her voice. You could have insisted you were too weak without his support. Maybe you could’ve even convinced him to stay by your side. But you loved him too much to be selfish. The woman he loved was calling for him. The least you could do was let him go to her. After all, the two of you might not return. Hell, the three of you might not return if she decided to jump aboard.
Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you trudged forward slightly, craning your neck to hear what she was saying. You were shocked to find that she was not, in fact, demanding to board the vessel. She was calling him an idiot. Multiple times. Screaming it, actually. You couldn’t exactly blame her; if you’d had a functioning lung left, you might’ve lectured him too. But the only thought you’d had in your mind, the only thought you’d felt was logical at the time, was to get on the damn boat with him. It was only natural when you loved him so. Even when the boat began moving, you still expected her, as your rival in love, to find her way on. At the very least, you expected her to yell that she loved him. He might have been sailing to his death. There was no way she would let her last words to him be filled with fury.
It wasn’t until the boat pulled out onto open water that you realized she hadn’t confessed a damn thing. And he was shaking. Ignoring your aching limbs, you reached out to him and grabbed his arm. He seemed to remember that you had just collapsed only moments ago and instinctively reached out to steady you, his brow creasing with worry.
“What the hell are you even doing on this boat?” He demanded.
You wanted to say, “That should be my line.” You wanted to scold him too. For not telling you. For not telling anyone. For making this decision alone. For being stubborn. For being stupid. For sheltering things alone like he always did. But Lili had already done that. And, from the sounds of it, this wasn’t the first time she’d done so. And it wouldn’t do a damn thing to change his mind, not when he was like this. There was no point in you saying it too.
So you smiled. “I’m giving you some company, of course.”
He scoffed. “Company? Are you crazy, woman? Do you even realize where we are headed?”
You tapped your chin in thought. “Tropical vacation, maybe?”
He turned to the deckhand. “Turn this boat around, we’re dropping her off.”
Before you could complain, the deckhand spoke up. “Actually, my lord, she’s here for the same reason as you.”
Looking smug, you held up Richard’s ring. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Chrissie.”
His nose wrinkled up. “You know I hate when you call me that.”
“And you know I love when you scrunch up your face like that, just like when we were kids,” You teased.
He huffed. “I will drop you. I’m not joking.”
“You won’t-”
The second Kit let go, your knees buckled and the world started spinning.
“Damnit! You seriously did a number on yourself, you idiot.” His arms found their way around you again, pulling you against him before you hit the ground. “Why the hell did you run so hard??”
“You…would’ve left…without me.” You groaned out.
“Damn right. This is no place for you.” He muttered.
You flicked his forehead. “My place is wherever you are.”
He shook his head in disbelief, but his eyes softened. He hooked an arm underneath you and began carrying you to the lower level. “Hold tight, or I will drop you.”
“You already dropped me, jerk.”
“I’ll drop you again.”
Once you got below deck, the deckhand went in search of a spare room for you only to come up empty. They hadn’t planned for a last minute addition. Whatever spare rooms they’d had, they used to stock up with supplies for the long journey ahead.
Kit cursed under his breath. “This is why you have to think before you rush ahead.”
“I was thinking about you, stupid.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have. I would’ve been fine.”
“No, you would not have. Do you think I don’t know you well enough by now, Kit? You don’t know the first thing about diplomacy.”
He glared at you. “I took the same damn classes as you-”
“Yeah, and who was always better at them? Me. Admit it, you’re just here because you feel bad for Richard and you wanted to lighten his load. That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t mean you’re not scared shitless. You hate public speaking. You hate crowds. You hate sweet talking people. You hate being Lord Christopher.”
“Regardless, I am a lord and it is my duty-”
“And I’m a lady and it’s my duty.”
“No, a lady should be at home, safe and sound, right now.”
“We’re at war. Nowhere is safe.”
“Anywhere is safer than being on a ship that’s sailing right in the middle of it!”
You huff. “Will you just shut up, and say you’re really just worried because you care about me but you’re actually glad that I’m here?”
His eyes narrowed. “I’d rather you not be here. I don’t understand why the hell you’d choose to be here.”
You pulled away from him, finally tired of his complaints. “Because I love you, you thick-skulled, stubborn-headed, jack-assed, idiot!”
He froze in place.
You didn’t wait to see his reaction; you stormed off, muttering to yourself that you’d just sleep in a storage room.
“Wait…” Kit murmured quietly. Panic began seizing through his veins but he couldn’t bring his legs to move. “Please, wait…”
But you were already gone.
The moment you found a solid surface, regardless of the fact that it was just a supply crate, you hunkered down, and started writing. Writing was all you could do when you were in a mood like this. At first, you wrote diplomatic letters, trying to make use of your time. But then, eventually, you started writing anything and everything under the sun. Stories that would make Kit laugh. Stories that would make Kit smile. Stories that would make Kit blush. At some point, you passed out on top of your papers. You were so deep in sleep, you didn’t even hear the door open.
When you woke up, you were in a bed, and Kit was sleeping on the floor. You scrambled to wake him up.
“What the hell are you doing on the floor??” You hissed in disbelief.
He rubbed his eyes, groaning. “What’s it look like I’m doing? Sleeping.”
“Yeah, I know that, idiot! But why on the floor??”
“You’re in my bed.”
“I can see that!! Why aren’t you in it, though??”
For the first time today, he took a moment to truly look at you. His silvery blue eyes pierced yours as he gazed at you, deep in thought. You wanted to kiss him.
You looked away instead. “Why are you staring?”
“Do you want me to sleep beside you?”
Your cheeks burned with every shade of crimson. “I’ll just sleep on the floor!”
He turned back to curl up in his sleeping spot. “No, thanks. I’d rather you be comfortable.”
“Fine, fine! Then get in the damn bed with me!” You exclaimed, tugging at his shirt before he could get comfortable (not that you really thought he could be that comfortable on the floor).
He settled onto one side of the bed and you felt the weight of the mattress shift beneath you. You inched towards the edge of your side. This was insanely improper, even for you. You felt like sinking so deeply into the mattress that it just swallowed you whole. Anything to avoid accidentally brushing up against him. In his sleeping attire.
“The second the boat rocks, you’re going to fall off the bed.” He mused matter of factly.
“Will not.” You grumbled to yourself, crossing your arms.
“You will too.”
“Will not.”
He reached over and tugged you to him. “Stubborn girl.”
“Kit!” You hit him with your pillow.
Beneath your pillow, he’d started to laugh.
You were mortified. “What? What on earth is so funny?” You demanded, flames roaring in your cheeks.
He pulled the pillow away from his face to smile at you mirthfully. “It reminds me of when we were kids and we’d break into the chocolate stash, and then pass out together when we ate too much.” He chuckled.
You bit your lip.
“Go on, you can laugh. It was funny.” He nudged you with his elbow.
You snorted and plopped down beside him. “Whatever, Kit. You remember the strangest things.”
He propped himself up on his side to get a better look at you, and your eyes suddenly found the ceiling.
“I know you remember it too, because you remember everything.”
“I do not.” You grumbled under your breath.
He huffed, amused. “How many times are we going to argue today? I’ll have to start keeping count.”
You tensed up. “Sorry. I don’t want to argue.”
“Me either.”
You grew quiet.
“Hey. About earlier. What you said-”
“I’m tired, okay? We don’t have to talk about it now. Let’s just… talk about it later, yeah?” You knew your argument was weak, but you’d never get to sleep if you had to listen to his rejection. You were sure, as it stood now, the only person he saw was Lili. You hadn’t intended for him to return your feelings when you had confessed. You hadn’t intended to confess at all. But now that you had confessed, all you wanted was to let it sit in the air and stay in the air. At least, in the air, it didn’t have to come crashing down.
He didn’t respond, and for a moment, you thought he might have fallen asleep. And then, quietly, he murmured, “Okay. Goodnight.”
“...Goodnight.”
The next day, you made sure to leave before he woke up and come back after he’d already fallen asleep. The day after that was the same. After the third day of being avoided, Kit decided to follow you to see what it was that you were doing that took an entire day. He was surprised to find you’d already memorized the names of most of the crew, and had been helping out where you could. Sometimes, you were cleaning, sometimes, you were cooking. Today, you’d been asked to help teach writing skills to some of the less educated staff.
Kit watched from the doorway, eyes following the path of your pen, mesmerized. He’d always loved not just reading what you wrote, but watching how you wrote. You wrote so smoothly and elegantly that it was like its own artform. If he had to pick out your handwriting from a mound of letters, he’d know your penmanship anywhere. Listening to the crewmates remark to each other about your skill only made him feel all the more prideful on your behalf.
“If you think her writing is pretty, you should hear her stories,” He declared to the class suddenly, pulling out papers from his pocket, which you recognized as the stories you’d begun penning aboard the ship. “This one’s funny-”
“Kit!” You snatched the papers from his hands in a hurry.
“What? I wasn’t joking. I really do like them.”
You sighed, “I know you do.”
“So, what’s the issue? They need good learning material, you have good learning material.” He held out his hand to recover the papers you’d stolen from him.
The expectant, hopeful eyes of your students made your shoulders sag in defeat and you surrendered your stories to Kit. To your surprise, he began reading them aloud and even encouraged people to chime in. It was like a dream of yours come true, to have the love of your life showering your works with love, and to have your works read aloud and admired. Even if they were just silly, short stories, it brought you joy to bring them joy.
Once they had filed out the door, and it was just you and Kit, you made sure to thank him.
“What’s there to thank? It was your work that deserved the praise. I told you I wasn’t just flattering you.”
“I know. I’m still shocked you read it out loud though. You don’t like public speaking.”
“You said that before.” He shrugged. “I guess I figured I should get practice in before we arrive.”
Before your nerve could leave you, you blurted out, “I like having you read my stories. It sounds better coming from you.”
He cracked a smile. “It’s only because I know the emotions you intended to convey.”
“A good writer should ensure everyone understands the emotions they wish to convey.”
“A writer is like an artist. You can make a masterpiece, and some will understand it, and some won’t. It’s okay. The people who can appreciate it will cherish it long after they’ve finished reading.”
You blinked. You hadn’t expected him to say something so profound. “You think writing is like art? That must be high praise, coming from a genius artist like yourself.”
“I think if writing is an art, you’re my favorite artist.”
Your heart tripped on its own beat. You knew he meant every word that he said. That was one of the things you loved about Kit. He was always genuine, always honest, always true to himself. If he said you wrote well, then you wrote well. If he said you were his favorite, then you were his favorite. He didn’t feel the need to coat his words in sugar to make them easier to swallow. He didn’t feel the need to break himself down to fit in a box. He simply said what he said, liked what he liked.
That must be so freeing, you thought to yourself. To be able to say what you feel and mean what you say. If you were like him, you’d have told him you loved him a decade ago. You’d have told him how every time he encouraged you to write, you felt like escape from the life of a house wife might be just around the corner. You’d have told him how every moment you’d spent with him, you’d bottled up, like a firefly in a jar, to bring you light when you felt the darkness closing in. You’d have told him how you’d danced with dukes and princes, men from near and far, and not a single soul came even close to reviving you the way he did. But you weren’t him. You were just some girl who’d stowed away on a boat, knowing her love would never be returned, content to merely die by his side if death was what lay in the cards.
“How’s your drawing?” You inquired, eager to change the subject.
He shifted his weight. “I quit. Art was simply a way for me to waste time, anyway.”
You laughed, but the sound was cold, like frost from your lips. “No, it wasn’t. Draw me something.”
He straightened defensively. “I told you, I don’t draw any-”
“That’s a lie; you and I both know it. You love art.”
“I don’t have the time to waste-”
“Christopher Church, you have got nothing but time. We are stuck on a boat, lord knows when we will arrive, so you will draw me something and you will draw it now. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece; it could be a loaf of bread, for all I care. But don’t you dare tell me that you haven’t got time when you’ve still got breath in your lungs and vitality in your hands, and don’t you dare tell me that art was a waste of time when it was the first thing you ever put your heart into. You can lie to Lili and you can lie to Catherine and you can lie to Peter and Joffrey and Shin and Sakura, but don’t you dare ever lie to me.”
“Bread it is,” He mumbled under his breath, sinking into a nearby chair to pull out the sketchbook you knew was in his pocket all along.
And then, it was just like old times all over again. You’d peer over his shoulder, entranced with his lines and shapes and shading. He drew as if he had the power to command the art to rise from the pages. You could almost smell the loaf he was sketching. And then, when you thought he was finished, he tilted his head in thought and began to draw something beside the bread.
Your brows furrowed. “What’s that? What’re you drawing?”
“It’s your big mouth, gobbling down the bread.”
You tugged on his hair with a huff.
He let out a whine of protest, but he smiled in the end.
Everyday going forward was like this. You’d find yourself immersed in differing activities- you’d write more diplomatic letters, he’d trace the ship’s map as he discussed the route with the captain, you’d clap your hands as the ship’s crew took a break to dance, and he’d stand out on the deck and watch the sun rise and fall. But at some point during every day, you’d make it a point to seek him out and have him draw something for you. And it may have annoyed him at first, but eventually, it became his saving grace. Eventually, he’d search for you to show you what he’d already drawn. He knew it didn’t matter if he’d drawn a seagull or a window; you’d encourage him the way you always did, with that smile you always had, with that tone of voice you saved for him. And he’d do the same for you. He’d tell you to write him a story. A sad one, a happy one. Anything at all. Even if the ship sank and your stories fell to the bottom of the sea, his ghost would dive into its depths and finish reading every last word. He was grateful to you. For filling his days and filling his nights. For filling him with purpose, with joy. For reminding him what wonder and awe were. For keeping him company when he needed it or giving him space when he wanted it. And he’d repay you even to his last breath.
Even once you reached the shore of a new land, though you were just as wary and anxious as he was, in an unfamiliar land with unfamiliar people during unfamiliar times, you stood your ground. You supported his proposals, and encouraged him when his spirits were low. You took over the conversation when he felt his confidence waning, and you brought him back to life when he felt his energy drained. You were his anchor. You always had been.
“You do realize that this country is even more opposed than England is to two unmarried members of the opposite gender being alone in the same room together,” He teased when he saw you slipping into his room.
“Then you’ll be a good boy and not say anything,” You laughed as you approached him. “I just had to bring you these. Can you believe they have them here? I thought I’d die before I ever tasted one again. They’re heavenly.”
He raised an eyebrow at your exaggeration, but promptly agreed with your assessment once you’d shoved the pastry in his mouth. “You should’ve brought another.”
“You’re so greedy! It was bad enough I had to sneak into your room after hours; now you wish I would’ve brought an armful with me?”
He shrugged playfully. “Something to keep in mind for a later date.”
You snorted at him, wiping the sugar from his chin, before waving goodnight. “Sweet dreams, Kit.”
You were his anchor. You always had been. You always would be.
He was never more grateful for that when the ship sank. And he was never more grateful to the gods when you somehow washed up on the same island as him. He had exhausted his limbs nearly to extinction trying to fight the current to get to you when he saw you sink beneath the waves. Despite the pain ripping through his muscles, searing into his every cell, burning itself into blood and bone, it was nothing compared to the agony of possibly never seeing you again. Of never feeling you fall asleep on his shoulder after another night of running through plans. Of never hearing you imitate his brother when you attempted to make him laugh. Of never smelling the scent of your perfume seeping into his clothes when your hugs lingered a little too long.
A mouthful of water or two later and he was waking up on a beach without you by his side.
He almost dove back in. Without a second thought of where you might be, of where he might look, he almost ran right back into the unforgiving waters. And then he heard you cough up a lung a few meters away. He’d never run so fast in his life. He was entirely unaware he even had the capability to move his feet as fast as they’d taken him to you. But he was grateful he had the strength to move at all. If he couldn’t run, he would’ve crawled to you.
“Hey, hey, hey! You’re okay. You’re okay.” He pulled you into his arms, patting your back until you’d expelled all the water that you could. He rocked you as you shuddered your way back to sanity, blinking back salt and shock. “Thank god, you’re okay.” He whispered as he rested his head against your temple.
“C-cold…I’m cold.” You murmured at last.
“Take my jack-”
“It’s wet.” You gave a weak laugh. “Come on. Let’s go find shelter together.”
How two nobles ended up making a fire, you were not sure. Maybe some god somewhere took pity on you both. Or maybe they wanted a good laugh. Either way, you’d found a cave and you’d conjured up some warmth. It was good enough for now. It was good enough to simply have him tightly pressed to you, exchanging heat and comfort and promises to get through this.
Finally, Kit spoke. “I thought you might’ve died.”
You nodded. “I thought I was going to.”
He remained silent for a moment as he rested his head on your shoulder. “I never gave you a response.”
Your brows furrowed. “Response? To what? What you wanted for dinner?”
A hint of a smile poked at his cheeks. “Not that. On the boat. That very first day. When you told me…I never gave you a response.”
Suddenly you didn’t need the fire for warmth any longer. The heat seeping into your cheeks and spilling across your neck and ears was warmth enough. “You, um, you don’t, ah… you don’t have-”
“I should’ve responded sooner.”
“It’s fine, really-”
“Do you still think I’ll reject you?”
You stilled. “We almost died. It’s natural to cling to the first person that you-”
“Then I’ll wait longer. As long as it takes for you to believe it’s not just a near death experience talking.” He declared resoundingly.
You bit your lip.
“But I should’ve told you sooner. In the past, it always felt like enough to simply have you beside me. We didn’t need words. But then I saw you disappear and I couldn’t reach you.”
“I saw you reach for me.”
“I’d always reach for you.”
Your fingers tightened around his shirt.
His thumbs traced circles along your back as he held you close. Then his nose brushed against your ear. “You’re the only thing grounding me. Reminding me who I am, reminding me where home is. You’re my anchor.”
You buried your face against his neck. “Don’t anchors just hold you back?”
He shook his head. “You can take an anchor with you wherever you go, you know. But anchors let you know where to stop and rest, where to enjoy the scenery. Anchors weather the storm.”
“Maybe you should be the writer-”
“I love you.”
Your heart clanged against your chest, like bells in a church. “I thought you were going to wait longer to tell me.”
“I’ve waited enough.”
You clenched his shirt tighter. “You idiot, Kit Church. I… I love you-”
His lips found yours like a key in a lock. With every press deeper, he unraveled all the parts of you that you thought you had to hide. All the stolen glances, all the lingering touches, all the memorized words. His warmth seeped into your very being until time itself was lost to the feeling of his lips against yours, to the feeling of his hands cradling your face, to the feeling of his heart beating to the rhythm of yours. He kissed you like you’d been the flower to save him from his ailment, all those years ago. He kissed you like he’d turn one flower into gardens. He kissed you like he was always and would always be the version of himself that belonged to you and only you.
You pulled away and his eyes searched yours curiously. You caressed his cheek encouragingly. “I know it’s not much, but I felt it might be the right time to give you this. Maybe it can be a good luck charm of ours. A promise to fulfill once we make it back home.” You took the ring off your pointer finger that had been given to you from his brother (that you were honestly surprised had endured the typhoon with you), and slid it onto his ring finger.
His eyes widened before softening into stardust. He brought your bare ring finger up to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “It’s a promise then.”
From that moment on, it didn’t matter what he had to face. He had you with him to weather the storm.
When he nearly got attacked by a poisonous snake, you panicked and caught the snake’s tail by the bare hand, whipping it back and forth until he was sure you’d given it whiplash. He’d swallowed down his laughter, shoulders shaking, as he tried to comfort you while you wailed about how disgusting it was and how you’d forever be traumatized. When he caught an infectious disease and commanded you to stay away from him, you nursed him through it all, enduring his sickness and yours. When he stumbled upon a group of villagers who didn’t speak his language, you quickly picked up on the patterns in their writing and used it to communicate in broken sentences, encouraging him to draw out whatever else you needed to explain.
By the time you made it to the shores of England, you’d both been to the gates of death and back, hand in hand. By the time you made the trip to Drunnheim Hall, you both had the rings to match. And by the time you sat down for dinner, Richard was toasting you both to love and peace.
"Thought you said you were going to come for me? Those little droplets don't count."
I’ve had this one line in my drafts for like ever, and I feel like using it on the LADS boys is dangerous territory that I’d like to die in (because I’m a menace). Anyway, proceed at your own peril.
**This is, of course, NSFW. **
I had planned to release more smut today for my one year anniversary on Tumblr, but considering these were all roughly 1k a piece and I wrote five of them, this is all you get for now.
Tags- Oh, god, idk, like a fuck ton of sex? Edging, sex toys, fingering, oral, p in v, p in a, squirting, you name it.
Caleb
Up until now, you’d been comfortably perched on top of Caleb, hips rolling forward to whatever rhythm you so desired, his cock only going as deep as had you allowed, his cum only spilling into you when you had permitted it to. And he had given you that control willingly. Honestly, he found it hot. Ridiculously hot.
But then you’d had the audacity to tease him about how much he’d come inside you.
“A droplet,” you’d called it. A goddamn droplet. Evidence of his orgasm was literally oozing out of you in waves -in waves, damnit! Meaning it had yet to STOP- and had been for the past hour that you’d relentlessly tormented him, and now you had the nerve to be unimpressed. Joking or not, he’d make you choke on your own words.
“A droplet, huh?” His words rumbled out of his throat, low and gravelly. “And I suppose next you’ll tell me my size is mediocre too?”
You feigned thinking for a minute, pulling yourself off of him to play at measuring him. He was still impressively erect, his cock standing tall like a skyscraper between your legs, but you brought your two fingers close together as though the small gap between them was meant to convey his microscopic length. “I meeeean, while we’re on the topic, I guess it was kinda difficult to feel you.” You bit back a laugh, thinking yourself humorous. You were clearly joking. Anyone with eyes could see how massive his size was even when it was soft. And when it was hard? It was like trying to fit a baseball bat inside of you. So of course you were just messing around. Baiting him for the thrill of it. Looking back, you wished you never would’ve said something so dangerous.
“You can’t even feel it, huh?” He repeated, his eyes narrowing. “My apologies, Princess. I guess I’ll just have to do better, now won’t I?” His words were polite but his tone was harsh, his smile pinched, and the look he gave you was anything but respectful.
“Why don’t you tell me if you feel it-” In an instant, he had you locked in a mating press, your legs soaring over your head. Your lungs felt him before your cunt did, your air wheezing out of you as he speared through your shuddering walls. “-now??”
He’d completely bottomed out and, at that moment, you swore you could feel him in your ribcage.
Before you had the chance to reply -and you hadn’t yet figured out if you’d wanted to reply with more sarcasm (a reckless move but a tempting one nonetheless) or honesty- he began snapping his hips forward, his cock drilling into you vigorously.
He usually gave you time to adjust to his size, and he only became more careful the deeper he went, but not today. Today, he had to prove a point. Today was the last day you would be able to walk without a limp.
His cock pistoned in and out of you, rapid fire, leaving no time for breath.
“C-C-Caleb!” You choked out, tears burning in your eyes.
“Hold on, baby- gonna give you a couple more ‘droplets,’ how’s that sound?” His hands forced your legs closer to your shoulders, his fingers burying themselves in your skin. His eyes met yours, dark and dangerous.
You knew that look. He was preparing to go even harder. Your poor, bruised cervix didn’t know how much more it could take. You had no choice but to beg.
“W-Wait! P-Please, Caleb, I was only jok-”
He yanked his cock out only to slam his length into you full force once again.
“F-Fuck! You’re huge, you’re enormous, you’re gigantic-” Your saliva dribbled down your lips as you babbled your praises to him in hopes it would slow his bombardment. “I n-never should’ve said what I said! I p-promise I didn’t mean it-”
“Are you sure, baby?” He growled. “Maybe I should continue. Maybe you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”
“I have, I have!” You blurt out, desperation in your voice.
“Good girl. Now, sit tight and let me breed you like the obedient little thing you are, yeah?” He pressed kisses to your neck as though he meant to soothe you. When his lips finally met yours, his passion igniting pleasure in your every nerve, you forgot about the pain, just for a split second.
And then you felt your back rise off the bed.
He would go on to tell you later that you screamed his name so loudly he was sure your neighbors would file a complaint, but in that moment, as he split your pussy open wider on his aggrieved cock, its thick veins purpled with renewed purpose, his eyes burning bright with desire and determination, you swore all you heard was the roaring of blood that was pounding in your ears.
And even after he’d already come inside you (and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d started coming, as your senses had simply shut down at some point, having overloaded to the maximum), liquid gushing out of him like a geyser, his hips still stuttered back and forth as though he were commanding more to flow out of him. As though he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were spilling out rivers of his lust.
If he put you in a tub right now, would you fill it up with nothing more than his arousal?
Before he could get any more ideas, you quickly stammered out, “Okay, okay! It’s more than a drop, it’s more than a drop!”
That twinkle in his eyes, that pep in his step, that pink in his cheeks that served as evidence of just how much he’d enjoyed your time together. It was something you looked forward to as much as the sex itself.
But tonight, his more wholesome self was nowhere to be found.
Not after you’d accused him of barely coming inside you at all.
Tonight, those sparkling eyes were replaced by something more sinister, something more sinful. Tonight, he loomed over you like he was a storm you wouldn’t survive.
“Didn’t come enough for your liking, huh? You humans- always so greedy, always so demanding, taking what you want, whenever you want it. Well, I hope you can take this.”
You hissed as he pressed your back against the shower tiles, the cold stinging your skin. Before you had time to complain, you felt the familiar pressure of his cock burrowing itself deep inside your cunt. You wanted to ask how this was any different from the sex you’d just had mere moments ago, but he answered your question with a sharp thrust up your ass.
Wait.
He…he was in…two places at…
You looked down to find the cock you’d previously drained dry was roaring back to life again, now pistoning itself in and out of your pussy. Below it, an identical cock had emerged, equally engorged, and equally as unrelenting.
You blinked. Blinked again.
How was this happening? You’d had sex with him plenty of times before, cuddled him enough times that he may as well have been attached to you, so you were sure that you’d taken the time to properly memorize every inch of his anatomy from head to toe. How was it that you’d completely overlooked an entire sex organ? Especially one that large. Had it always…been there? Or were you really so cock drunk that you were imagining things?
“You’re not imagining anything.”
Your head snapped back up to meet his gaze. Was it that obvious what you were just thinking about??
“I only use it on…special occasions,” He dipped his head down to nip at your earlobe before purring, “And I’d say this counts as a special occasion, don’t you? Wouldn’t want my beloved bride to think I’m holding out on her now.”
His lips began their tantalizing trail along your jawline, his kisses both reverent and rebuking all at once. This lust-driven path continued down your neck, tongue and teeth working together to paint beautiful bruises along his newest canvas. After a while, he pulled back to survey his work, eyes skimming across the purples and pinks he’d stained into your skin. When he remained unsatisfied with his masterpiece, he began to ravage your breasts. Your skin flushed crimson as he lavished his attention upon them, his greed and desire evident with every stroke of his tongue and suction of his lips.
But even his admonishment of your insolent behavior came off as worship after long enough. He pinched your nipples between his fingers, but only as hard as you liked. He sunk his teeth into the mass of muscle between your neck and shoulder, but only as deep as you liked. And he slapped your ass repeatedly, but only as much as you could take.
You swore you knew how to speak, or at least, your tongue remembered what words felt like and your ears remembered how they were supposed to sound, but your brain, it seemed, was choosing to go into meltdown mode. You wondered if the bond between you gave away all of your most sensual secrets, allowing him to uncover everything that made you unravel. He had toyed with every sensitive spot on your body, all while fucking you completely dumb in two different places, and you had no words left to give. Only strangled noises that served as evidence of your pleasure. At some point, he’d turned on the water, but you paid no mind to it. You were already drowning in the feeling of him, what was a little water to you?
He strengthened his grip on your legs, pulling you tighter around his waist. Your shoulder blades dug into the shower wall as his weight pressed into you. He was bracing you, but you were too delirious to figure out what for. Up until now, he’d only been slowly thrusting into you, paying more attention to every other spot on your body that made you squirm for him. But he couldn’t forget what his original goal was. You’d asked him to come for you. To come for you impressively, at that. So now it was his turn to feel good.
His pace began to pick up, fingers digging into your thighs, as he plunged himself deeper into your two holes.
You gasped for breath but found only the heat of his lips colliding with yours. He hungrily consumed every squeak and squeal that slipped from your tongue onto his.
You hadn’t even eaten dinner yet -having gotten distracted by Rafayel coming out of the bathroom with nothing on but a towel loosely hanging from his waist, which was when you imposed the first round of intercourse on him- but suddenly your stomach was feeling rather full, having been stuffed to the brim on two fronts. You could feel your belly bulging as he burrowed his way deeper and deeper with every powerful thrust.
You could tell he was close as his thrusts became sloppy and desperate. Crimson seeped into his skin, following a path from the tip of his ears to the swell of his cheeks, even beginning to creep down the expanse of his neck. Water and sweat alike cascaded down his shoulders. They stuttered down his chest as his heaving breaths minutely disrupted their smooth flow.
Even as a god, Rafayel had never been particularly religious, only believing in what was relevant to him here and there, only participating when it was of benefit to him, but now, he swore he was seeing Elysium.
Your lips were parted, breaths bleeding into the steam, your cunt clenching hungrily around his cock, and he swore, when he looked into your eyes, everything from Heaven to Earth, the wind and the waves, the storm and the sun, all parted to allow him passage into paradise.
And then he passed through the gates.
He only had enough air to groan once, steam and lust clouding his vision in a field of white, before he lost himself in the feeling of you. His cocks spasmed and he lurched forward, his head collapsing onto your shoulder as he began to flood your depths with his seed.
You were nearly on the edge of bliss yourself, your mind having been unable to focus on a single target of pleasure between his eager conquest of your ass and your pussy, but when you felt his heat sear through you, his cum filling you to the brim, you let paradise claim you.
Your back arched off the wall, legs squeezing tighter around him, as ecstasy surged through your veins. You were soaring high above the clouds, the breeze dancing along your every nerve, until finally you came down to land in his arms.
When you squirt all over his pelvis, he lifted a brow, both amused and enlightened by the new information that you now had the ability to squirt for him. He leaned forward, his breath hot on your ear.
“I guess I’ll have to make everyday a ‘special occasion’ then, if you’re going to come so beautifully for me like that.”
“Forgive me, but I didn’t realize intercourse required a specific amount of cum to be effective.” He played like he was a researcher, listening to you intently as you provided him with new information that could potentially uproot his entire field of study, but his eyes sparkled with mirth. He wondered how far you’d take this silly, little charade of yours. And he pondered how far he wanted to take it himself.
“Yes, well, now you know. When we have sex, I expect you to fill me to the brim- nothing like the measly amount you just spilled into me.” You stated your words very matter-of-factly. Except that there was nothing factual about them. You knew damn well that, at this very moment, his cum was still dripping out of you like it had no end. And he knew it too.
He gave a small smirk. Yeah. He’d made up his mind already; he wasn’t letting his charade end until he was satisfied you’d swallow your own words. “I see. Well, I hate to be so disappointing. I think we’re in need of another trial run then, yes?”
You nodded your agreement. “I believe that is the best course of action for this kind of situation.”
“Perhaps-” He suddenly turned you around and bent you over his desk (your eyes widening as he did so) before spearing his cock through your slicked folds once more, “-Your technique was what was lacking. In order to best stimulate my arousal to provide you with the optimum amount of orgasmal release, I’d recommend this angle.”
You let out a choked gasp as you steadied yourself against the desk’s surface. He’d never fucked you from the back before. Something about always wanting to see your pretty face make the expressions that you did. But apparently that factor didn’t apply today. Oh god, were you going to survive him?
He pulled out just enough so that only his tip remained within you and you bit your lip, bracing for impact. But it never came. His hips very slowly rowed forward again, his erection easing its way into you. His hands planted themselves on your hips, his thumbs caressing your back, as if to tell you how well you were taking him.
You thought to yourself, this wasn’t so bad. You could keep going like this. You could rock yourself onto him, taking the time to savor his every vein carving itself into your walls. You could do it. Sensual and slow was the way to go.
Then he reached around to flick his fingers across your clit and while you were busy whimpering at the new sensation, his hips rocketed forward, drilling the entirety of his bulging member through your trembling walls in one go.
“Zayne!” You cried out.
“Just a little bit longer, and you’ll get what you want.” He murmured, voice hoarse.
His thrusts grew relentless as his desire overcame him. Sure, he’d been trying to teach you a lesson, but now he was starting to forget what exactly that lesson was. All he could think about was just how perfectly warm you were, how perfectly tight you were, how perfectly soaked you were. He was sure if he lifted you up, you’d have made a mess of his desk already, your arousal pooling beneath you. And it drove him crazy.
He pounded into you tirelessly, his fingers nearly scarring their imprints onto your hip bones from how tightly he grasped you, attempting to stabilize himself. He wanted to feel every inch of you- needed it, really. As a doctor, he knew that logistically speaking, it was impossible for his cock to rearrange all of your internal organs, but he damn well wanted to try.
You held onto the edge of the desk for dear life as Zayne attempted to split right through your stomach. What was he trying to do? Saw you in half down the middle?
Your core was nearly on fire at this point; seriously, you were sure the only thing keeping you from sparking into flames from the friction of his cock grating against your walls was the fact that you were so ungodly wet right now. Why were you so wet? Did his ruination of you really feel that good?
He crashed against your cervix and you came on his desk.
“F-F-Fuuuuuck, Zaaaayne!” Your lips quivered, tears spilling down your cheeks as he continued to fuck your throbbing cunt. Your arms buckled beneath you, nerves spasming all over as your orgasm continued to pinball around your body, zinging to and fro, and you ended up fully collapsing on the desk.
“Hold out a little longer. I’m almost there.” He grunted out.
“I caaaan’t,” You whined.
“Who’s the one who wanted me to come harder?” He questioned.
You bit your lip. “M-me…”
“And who’s the one who just came on the desk because it felt so good?”
“M-me…”
“Exactly. You’re being such a good girl; I think you can hold out a little longer, yeah? Just until I breed you, nice and full. Yes, my love?”
You nodded shakily. You started this, you might as well finish it. You clenched your eyes shut as he continued to pump into you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It hurt so good. You’d never realized just how big he was. Never realized just how batshit crazy you were for him.
He thrust into you again. And then again.
Then he buried his head against your shoulder, groaning and gasping, as his orgasm slammed into him full force. His body shuddered as he struggled to process the ecstasy soaring through his veins. Loads of his cum surged out of him, thick and hot, until it was waterfalling down your legs.
As he caught his breath, he thought to himself that, even with you egging him on, he shouldn’t have been able to come that much. He wasn’t even aware he was capable of producing that much cum. He wasn’t aware that anyone human was capable of producing that much. But, ah well, there was no point in ruminating about this strange, new revelation now. He was finally finished. He could relax again (if you’d let him, you damn tease).
Then you twitched underneath him and before he could understand what was happening, he started to come again.
Xavier stared at you, eyes calculating, arms crossed.
“And what about that-” He bent down to run a finger through the fresh cum that was still drizzling out of you, “-wasn’t enough for you?” He asked, voice low and demanding.
You cleared your throat, preparing to stand your ground. You shrugged. “I’m just saying, I’m hardly soaked. If we were trying to make a baby right now, all we’d have to show for it would be a negative line on a pregnancy test.”
You were bullshitting him. You totally were. But how else were you supposed to goad him into fucking you more? You’d missed him. He’d spent way too much time frolicking around space, and you’d spent way too much time humping his pillow. You needed him. So if telling him that his cum was unimpressive meant that he’d spend the entire night proving you wrong, you’d do it again in a heartbeat.
When he immediately left the room, your heart sank. Was the bait not enough? Should you have pushed him harder? Or should you have just told him the truth, that you wanted him to fuck you into oblivion? You wracked your brain, wondering what you were supposed to say when you finally went after him.
You certainly hadn’t expected that he’d come back into the room with…rope.
“Sit down.” He gestured to a nearby chair.
Your eyes darted back and forth between him and the chair. Just what was he planning to do? Obviously, he must be thinking of tying you to the chair, but what then?
“Don’t trust me?”
His eyes were innocent enough that you made the decision to do as he said. But you shouldn’t have.
Like you thought, he began to tie you to the chair, but you hadn’t imagined it would be nearly this tight. Your wrists and ankles strained against the rope but it didn’t budge even the littlest bit. Oh fuck. What had you gotten yourself into?
“X-Xavier…what are you going to do to me now?” You asked meekly, your earlier audacity evaporating.
“Showing you how much I can come for you. Isn’t that what you asked for?” His eyes glint with mischief.
“I did…but how is tying me to a chair related? Don’t you have to come inside me?”
He leaned forward, capturing your chin in an iron grasp, before tilting you to face him. “And who said I had to come inside you?”
Before you could be properly flabbergasted at the single loophole he’d found to ruin your entire plan, he began to pull something out of a box.
You swallowed. “Xavier…what’s that?”
“You’ll see.” He bent down to push the foreign object into your cunt.
You winced at how cold it was.
At first, it did nothing. Just sat there. Provided some much needed pressure that you’d been hoping his cock would give you, but didn’t do much more than that.
Then he began murmuring to himself while flipping through a little booklet, which you soon realized was its instruction manual.
“Hmm. Let’s see. For first time use, low levels are recommended.” He hit a button on a remote and then glanced over the top of the booklet to see your reaction.
It’d begun a pleasant buzzing between your legs but it was hardly enough to elicit any sizable reaction.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re not like the other people using this thing. Low level my ass.” He chucked the booklet behind him and began to crank the dials up on the remote.
You jolted forward, sparks shooting through your veins, but the restraints held you in place. Like a wildfire, heat began to burn in your core and spread throughout your body. Sweat rolled down your bare chest, dripping off your peaked nipples. “X-Xavier!” You gasped out.
“Mm.. still think it’s not high enough. You do have high tolerance levels, after all.” He hit the maximum setting and then chucked the remote behind him as well, not bothering to see where it’d landed. Then he sat down and simply watched you, stroking his cock as he did so.
The damn vibrator began to wildly thrash in your pussy, igniting and imploding every nerve within your shuddering walls. Your stomach lurched, your lungs feeling like they were collapsing in on themselves. “Xavier!!” In no time at all, you were drooling and squirting all over yourself.
“That’s it…” He drawled, spitting on his cock as he fucked his palm harder.
“W-W-Waaaait!” You stammered out, choking on your own saliva. As quickly as you’d come, the tension had begun to build itself inside you once again. “C-Can’t…take…”
“You wanted me to come for you harder, right? So why don’t you come for me harder? Give me a good show. And then I’ll reward you.” He continued to watch you squirm, licking his lips as your drool dripped down your breasts. He ran a thumb over his tip, groaning as he teased himself.
“S-So…sensitive…” You squeaked out in an almost pleading tone, eyes squeezing shut. Your head had rolled back, shoulders slumped, as you attempted to catch your breath. Your breaths came in such short gasps, you were surprised you’d managed to suck in any oxygen at all. He still hadn’t turned down the setting so your torment continued, a never ending cycle of pleasure and pain.
When you came again, like a bomb exploding between your legs, he began to circle you.
You would’ve asked him what for, if you’d had enough energy left, but the vibrating between your legs never stopped, and so you mustered up what strength you had left to endure the next onslaught.
He played with his balls in one hand, the other still vigorously stroking his impressive length, as he watched you make a mess for him. You were sure you’d ruined the chair by now, but that just turned him on even more.
He finally stopped his circling to stand before you, hand bracing itself on one of your shoulders. You wondered if he’d finally put an end to this cycle, but he didn’t. He simply pumped his hand in and out of his fist faster and then came all over your stomach.
“That enough cum for you yet?” He growled.
So that was his plan.
Leaving you no time to answer, he spoke again, “Guess not.”
He began to play with himself again until his cock had hardened to an almost painful degree. “Look at you…all covered in my cum. All helpless and desperate. You want me to take the pain away, don’t you? To fuck you myself?”
Your eyes widened and you quickly nodded. “Yes, Xavier, please! Take this damn thing out of me- I wanna feel you!”
Still stroking himself, he slipped his fingers inside you to retrieve his little torture device. Surprisingly, the split second he had touched your cunt was enough to make you come again, and you squirt all over his fingers this time.
“Naughty.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “How should I punish you?” He brought the vibrator between your legs once more and tears began to roll down your cheeks as you prepared yourself for insertion but it never came. Instead, he pressed it to your clit.
“Mmmph!” You let out a muffled sob as your clit began to swell from the stimulation. At this point, you were sure all your internal organs would just spontaneously combust. You weren’t used to such a rollercoaster of sensations, and right now, you were on an upwards spiral. Each delicious, devious vibration that rumbled against your clit sent you teetering closer and closer to the edge. You fought against your restraints again, if only to try and close your legs, but it was to no avail. That familiar spark was bursting into flames once again.
When you came for the third time, you were sure you blacked out. Blinking back the oblivion, you realized he’d completely doused the entirety of your neck, torso, and legs, like you were his personal cum dumpster. Seeing you all timid and trembling in combination with his fucked-out fist must have sent him barreling towards his orgasm too. And an impressive one, at that.
You suddenly heard the snap of a camera and looked up to find Xavier examining the picture on his phone.
Sylus scoffed, both amused and irked at the same time.
He could’ve filled his car’s gas tank with how much he’d come inside you tonight, and still, you were insistent that it wasn’t enough. How bold of you.
“And do you think, somehow, that you could’ve come anymore than me?” He demanded, gesturing to the liquids that were currently oozing out of you and collecting on the floor in a puddle.
You lifted your chin to him defiantly. “Do I think I could’ve come more than a grain of sand? Yeah, I do.”
He snorted. A grain of sand. You were literally oozing gallons out of your pussy at this point and you’d had the audacity to first compare him to a raindrop, and now a grain of sand. He’d have to do something about that mouth of yours.
He spread your legs wide in an instant. “I’d like to see you try, kitten.” He split your pussy open on two fingers, cum spilling out of your slit as he pumped them in and out. “Come for me. Again and again.”
Shit, you thought to yourself, biting your lip. This wasn’t what you wanted when you’d goaded him on. You were just so cum drunk you were hoping to spurr him into coming for you more. You wanted him to soak your bed so much it started feeling like a water bed. You weren’t expecting him to turn the tables on you.
He curled his fingers, thrumming the patch of nerves that always made you choke.
“Sy!” You groaned.
“What is it, kitten? Can’t do it? Talked too big of a game?” He smirked, fingers still relentlessly plunging into your wet heat.
You swallowed. “It’s, um…it’s not that…it’s just…”
“Just what?” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust.
Your back arched off the bed. “Fuck!”
“Use your words, kitten,” He drawled, thumb coming up to circle your neglected clit.
You let out a whimper, eyes rolling back in your head. “W-Wanna… wanna come with you,” you pleaded.
“Poor kitten. You want my cock that badly, huh?”
You nodded your head vigorously.
He chuckled, low and dark. “It’s a shame I can’t give it to you. After all, its service has been so poor this evening, isn’t that what you said? I’ll have to find some other way to service you.” His pace picked up and he added a third finger, reveling in the way your cunt swallowed them down with ease.
“Won’t you show me what it looks like to properly come?” He teased, his words a purr in your ear.
You wanted to bite him, the insufferable man that he was. But your lips were too busy quivering from holding back moans as your second orgasm of the night washed over you. Your toes curled into the bed, legs squeezing tightly around his hand as you shuddered your way through the high. His fingers kept the same rhythm even with you squirming around him, never letting your release tiptoe out of reach.
When you finally finished gasping, he pulled his fingers out, flicking his tongue over them to clean them off. He feigned contemplation as he swallowed down your arousal, like he was some critic at a restaurant. “Not bad, but barely more than a grain of sand. Maybe two grains of sand. Thought you were going to show me something special, sweetie.” He grinned, his lips curled smugly.
You huffed. “Yeah, well, maybe you just didn’t do enough!” You protested. For a moment, you’d even forgotten that this whole situation was a monster of your own making, and that you’d originally intended for him to be the one coming. Because now you were just offended.
“Ohh. So I’m the issue. Interesting theory. Shall we test it out?”
Before you could answer -before you could even realize your mistake- he dove in, tongue barrelling through your entrance. His nose nudged against your clit as he inched deeper, devouring every ounce of arousal you had to offer him. Of course, he swallowed loads of his own cum too, and for a moment, he contemplated pulling back to show you just how much of his cum was on his tongue. Prove he’d given you more than a ‘drop.’ But then he felt your hips stutter as you fucked yourself on his tongue, your lust rising, and he could practically smell the sin radiating off of you. It was intoxicating. He wouldn’t dream of stopping now.
He flicked his tongue in every direction, smirking against your cunt when he felt your walls shiver against him. God, you were going to taste so good when you finally stopped fighting him and just came in his mouth. He continued to lap you up hungrily like he’d never eaten a day in his life.
And there it was again. That tingling sensation that had begun to build in your core. That rumbling between your legs that only grew with every demanding stroke of his tongue. Your orgasm had begun dancing into view again just like it had before. But…something was different this time.
This time…oh god…this time you felt like you had to pee.
You began crawling back up the bed, in attempts to pull away from him, but you didn’t get very far. His hands shot out and pinned your hips to the bed. He was starving and you were interrupting his meal. He couldn’t have that.
“Wait-Sylus!” You wanted to explain yourself. You weren’t pulling away from him, you just didn’t want to piss in his mouth. You wanted to tell him he felt good. He felt amazing. He felt like Heaven in a bottle. But then his tongue licked up your clit, his fingers sliding back into position, and you came for him, hard.
The air was knocked from your lungs and your vision went white as the ecastasy tore through you, limb from limb. And then your pelvis jerked forward and you squirt all over his face like a flood.
When you had finally finished, you slowly pulled your legs apart to examine his expression.
He was completely stunned still, his face dripping as he processed this new information.
You cleared your throat.
“So…um…I’d say that counts as more than a drop, yeah?”
