───── ❝ i moaned your name last night ❞
missing you
You missed Zayne.
Missed him terribly.
Misaligned schedules, sudden missions, business trips, emergency—it seemed like the whole universe went out of its way to keep the two of you apart. A couple days apart was terrible, but weeks felt like torture—a punishment, even.
Text messages were still exchanged, and you responded to each other’s Moments posts, and if you were lucky, you could still manage a few phone and video calls here and there, but none of that could ease the loneliness you both felt.
You started counting down the days to your reunion, eagerly crossing off each date on the calendar, already imagining when you’re back in each other’s arms. Daydreams filled those idle, slow moments, your mind drifting away during leisure afternoons, imagining the warmth of his body close to yours.
You pictured dates, planning outings in your mind and already tasting sweet, delicious desserts with him. You couldn’t wait to kiss him again, feel his lips on yours, his own longing surfacing, revealing itself in his own desperation to have you to himself.
Those very daydreams prolonged their stay, appearing even as you slept at night, feeling so vivid, it was like Zayne had returned to your side already. Even in this dreamscape, you could sense everything around you were not real—including him, but when his lips found yours, overwhelming you with passionate intensity, you let go of reason, wanting nothing more than to be drowned by him.
Zayne’s voice was soft but thick with desire. “Why don’t you… show me how much you miss me?”
He guided you to straddle him, and you gasped, arching up into him. He was already hard, already ready to feel your warmth around him. His lips found your neck, trailing kisses along. Strong arms wrapped around you, and large hands roamed all over your back, pulling you tighter into his embrace.
Heart pounding, breathing heavy, you grinded over his erection, already imagining what it would feel like to have his cock fully inside you. He groaned at the sensation, but did not discourage you, his own face growing more flushed with desire.
Your chest rapidly rose and fell, and you pleaded, feeling a growing ache inside your body.
You wanted him just as much as he wanted you.
It didn’t take much pleading for Zayne to shift you on his lap, your panties pulled down, but still dangling off one ankle, as he freed himself, and you gasped, feeling him guiding you down on his cock.
S-so full…
Your eyes rolled back, moaning as you both succumbed to your repressed desires, losing yourself in a maddening rhythm chasing after the same euphoria. Messy kisses heightened the uncontrolled passion, the heat clouding your mind, feeling the familiar signs of your approaching climax.
Nails scraped along Zayne’s back, and you knew he was close, too, feeling him rushing, his fingers pressing deep into your hips.
Closer and closer and—
You woke up screaming his name, shaken awake by a powerful orgasm. Panting, you stared at the dark ceiling above, confused, only realizing seconds later that everything had been a dream. A very lifelike dream.
Trembling in bed, the aftershocks of your climax lingered, but knowing that everything had been a dream left you unsatisfied. If you closed your eyes, it was like Zayne was here again, his warm breath intermingling with yours, and his body heat exchanged with yours.
“…Zayne…”
Blindly, you reached for a pillow, clamping it between your legs. Instinctively, your hips moved, hesitantly at first, a faint sense of shame inhibited you for just a moment, but that sudden friction against your core was enough to overcome any feeling of embarrassment.
Soft gasps spilled from your mouth, teeth biting down on your bottom lip as you trembled, quickening your grinding, overwhelmed by a desperation to revisit that dream again. To feel him again.
You needed him. Needed him raw. Needed him deep inside you.
You needed the way Zayne would dominate, knowing how to set a rhythm with practiced control, using the force of his thrusts to tease and edge you before his own needs clouded his mind and he would succumb to his own primal instincts, addicted to the way you pulse so heavenly around him, desperate for him to be the one to bring you to a state of complete ecstasy.
Stay spread for him, urging him—begging him—your mewls incoherent and indecent, and you’re no longer uttering words, just moaning obscenely until his thrusts would become brutal, so forceful, they would coax his name out of your mouth. Panting and gasping and screaming, your body would betray all of your feelings, and Zayne would know how close you were to coming.
Your body could never lie to him.
Eyes on me, he would command, knowing full well you had lost all control of your body.
“Za-Zayne…”
You continued humping the pillow, rushing as your mind raced with images of your beloved Zayne, seeing his devilishly handsome smirk, his sultry voice coaxing you with plentiful praises closer and closer to your orgasm. Your panting grew heavier, eyes shut tight, seeing him—feeling him.
You could feel his weight on you—like he was right here, keeping you spread for him. You remembered how full you felt, stuffed with his thick cock, feeling it penetrating you again and again, deeper and deeper, and you were gripping him so tight, his own groans driving you closer to your release.
“Oh, Zayne—!"
Everything stilled, your body gone lax, feeling only the faint aftershocks of your climax. Your heart was beating wildly, the adrenaline of the moment heightened, your breathing still unsteady as you lingered in the afterglow. A sleepy smile settled on your face, and you could only think of Zayne again, feeling like he had trained your body so well, you still wanted more.
More of him.
He could take you in so many different positions, make you come so many times, you would lose count before sunrise, and when you were sore, he would keep you flushed to him, his endless praises a sweet lullaby as you surrendered to him once more.
Giggling, you grabbed your phone.
The next morning, Zayne woke up to one text message and a photo attachment.
I moaned your name last night.
His breathing stilled, seeing the lewd dampness on the pillow between your legs.
His pillow.
Amused, Zayne wondered if this sort of behavior warranted a punishment… or perhaps a reward?
“That’s my girl,” he chuckled, his own morning already showing signs of mirroring your previous night.
two truths, one lie
I’ve skinny-dipped in the ocean before.
I moaned your name last night.
I love you.
Waves lapped at the shore, and for this brief instance, it seemed the only other sound Rafayel could hear was his own heartbeat, feeling it pulsing rapidly inside his chest. The air felt humid and heavy, his own breathing ragged as he searched for his voice again, unable to fathom any of the sentences he had just heard.
The alcohol was supposed to relax you both, but perhaps, you were too relaxed. Seated in his lap, your legs wrapped around his waist, you peered up into his eyes, seeing flames dancing on the ocean’s surface.
He replayed the confessions in his head again, easily surmising one of them to be the truth: You love him. Of course you did, he had no doubt that that was the truth and would always be the truth.
“You love me,” he said confidently. “Truth.”
Smiling, you leaned up and pecked his lips, leaving traces of the wine behind. “Correct.”
He furrowed his brows, realizing the two remaining confessions were harder to identify. He gazed down at you, eyes drifting over every inch of your body. You could feel his fingers twitching, unconsciously pressing into your flesh, but you stayed silent, observing the way he was trying to discern which was the truth and which one was the lie.
Rafayel thought about it. He imagined scenarios where you could have skinny-dipped in the waters. Perhaps a daring night during your college years, having one reckless final fun before you graduated and went on to pursue a respectable career serving humanity.
You gasped when Rafayel pressed his fingers deeper into your flesh, still appearing lost in thoughts.
On the other hand, Rafayel found the other confession unexpected, and… unique, to put it simply. Skinny-dipping seemed almost pedestrian, a tired response used by many to prove the existence of a wild side. He wasn’t as interested in that, and he almost wondered if perhaps you also realized how ordinary that was, wanting instead to give him easy confessions to clear the path to what you truly wanted to reveal to him.
“You moaned my name last night,” he repeated, feeling the air was getting hotter. He swallowed once, mustering up all of his confidence for this one weighted word: “Truth.”
You captured his lips, you arms wrapped around his head, fingers tangling into his silky locks. You gasped in between kisses, his warm breath and yours intermingling together. “Correct.”
Rafayel stumbled back, feeling the hardwood floor beneath him entirely. He gazed up, face flushed, at you straddling him, your own cheeks as red as his. Distantly, he wondered if the alcohol had gone completely to both of your heads. Neither one of you seemed to have any inhibitions left.
“T-tell me,” he said as steady as he could. His head was buzzing, intoxicated by the alcohol, but also by images of you, alone in bed at night, submitting to obscene acts and fantasies of him. Slowly, a smile crossed his face, almost deliriously delighted by the very prospect that you fantasized about him in such a way when you were alone.
“I caught a fishie,” you murmured, seeing that same delirium on his face. “I trapped him in my bed and had my ways with him.”
“Y-yeah?”
“He didn’t resist me. He let me do whatever I wanted to him.”
“Like what?”
“Like…”
Rafayel choked back a cry, surprised when you leaned down, nibbling along his neck, your fingers dragging over each button, popping them off and revealing his torso. He panted softly, holding back a groan as you grinded against him, seeking a friction against your core. He vaguely wondered if you did something similar the night before.
“I marked him up, made him mine,” you murmured, branding him with possessive kisses down his body. You fingered the button on his pants.
Suddenly, your world spun upside-down, finding yourself flipped over and pinned underneath the young artist. You gasped, arching up into him when you felt his erection brushing against your core. Eyes closed, you remembered back to the night before, wanting to feel him close to you like this.
The waves sounded louder—deafening even.
“Look at me…” Rafayel murmured, his hands touched your face delicately in a way similar to handling a rare priceless, timeless masterpiece.
You opened your eyes, seeing the fire in his eyes burned brighter.
He wanted you.
Wanted you flushed red, and painted in white by him. His beautiful muse, only worthy of being worshipped by a god.
forgotten hot pot
“Excuse me?”
Xavier hadn’t even realized he had dropped the cooked sliced beef back into his bowl. The pot at the center of the table continued to simmer quietly while he gawked at you casually continuing to eat.
When you had invited him over to your apartment for a hot pot dinner, he had agreed readily, delighted by the prospect of sharing his favorite meal with the one person he loved in the whole world. While the dinner started out normally with some lighthearted talk and teasing, the moment suddenly took an unexpected turn when you casually revealed a rather… indecent secret out of the blue.
However, based on your nonchalant demeanor, he wondered if you had ever intended for it to be a secret in the first place. He felt his cheeks warming up. The whole room suddenly felt unbearably hot, and he knew it had nothing to do with the hot pot still simmering away at the center of the table.
Just as you reached for the fried tofu to add to the pot, you were startled when Xavier blocked your chopsticks with his. You tried again, and he parried your effort immediately.
You lifted your gaze, locked eyes with his.
“I moaned your name last night,” you repeated flippantly, seizing this stunned opportunity to retrieve your tofu, happily plopping them into the simmering spicy broth.
His gaze hardened. “Why are you being so nonchalant about it?”
He could feel something else hardening under the table. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to maintain the same calmness as you. Xavier’s mind, however, was already racing ahead, his eyes staring at you from across the table, darkening as he pictured the state you were in the night before.
“It just happened,” you answered calmly.
“‘It just happened?’” he repeated your words, astonished that your tone was as breezy as if you had just remarked that this was a sneeze and not something much more indecent.
You smiled at Xavier and dropped some cooked bok choy into his bowl.
“I don’t want this,” Xavier said, vexed.
“What do you want then? Mushroom? Shrimp? Lamb?”
“An explanation.”
“Expla—”
“Stop messing with me,” he demanded. You didn’t fluster once at his harsh tone, or even seemed to want to pacify his growing irritation. Frankly, it was starting to piss him off a little with the way you were messing with him like this.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked, adding, “I was upstairs.”
“It was… late,” you fibbed.
“You’re lying.”
“So, what if I am?”
Suddenly Xavier turned the stove off. The hot pot continued simmering from the residual heat, the gentle bubbling the only noise to cut through the tensed atmosphere. Before you could get a word out, the lights in your apartment flickered once, surprising you, but Xavier himself seemed unfazed.
He stood up. The lights flickered again.
One step closer to you.
And another.
You yelped when the room plunged into complete darkness, feeling a firm hand grasping your chin. When your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw Xavier mere centimeters from you.
“Were the lights off like this last night?”
Quietly, you nodded, almost certain you saw a pleased gleam in his eye.
“Did you plan it?”
Slowly, you shook your head, finding yourself unable to tear your eyes from him. His voice was so calm, alluring, the mere firm but soft tone coaxing out more details of your dirty secret. Surprised, you gasped when he grasped your wrist, pulling you to your feet to stand in front of him. You peered up, seeing Xavier was still confused by your shameless admission.
“What made you want to tell me this?”
“I thought you would like knowing… how just thoughts of you made me so… wet.”
It was brief, just an instance in the darkness, but you were almost certain you saw that flicker of surprise in Xavier’s eyes again. When you blinked, still adjusting your eyes to the dark room, you noticed Xavier was quiet once more, his expression unreadable. You wondered if he was still upset.
You liked teasing him to rile him up, but you hated the idea of him genuinely being mad at you. Perhaps your teasing was too mean-spirited now. You worried that he might start stewing in his volatile emotions and misinterpret your intentions.
“I fantasized about you.”
A shaky breath escaped from Xavier’s lips, his words dying in his throat the moment you leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss to his neck. Instinctively, his hands fell on your waist, steadying you as arms entwined around his neck, body pressing closer to his, and more kisses mapped their way from his neck, to his cheek, his nose, before briefly your lips lingered over his.
“Xavier, I felt you on me last night,” you confessed, cheeks flushed with desire. “I felt you holding me, touching me, and…”
“And…?” His heart was racing, his grip on your waist tightening, as if he was afraid to let you slip from his grasp.
“I wanted to cum to just thoughts of you,” you revealed, even more certain you saw his cheeks stained red and his eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Knowing you were just upstairs, perhaps already asleep, and it was just one floor separating us, but because it’s you…”
You let out a startled gasp, your feet suddenly off the ground and firmly wrapped around Xavier’s waist. He held you tighter, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your words as he started to carry you to your bedroom.
“Xavier? Xavier… our dinner…”
“I have a different appetite right now,” he said firmly, and gradually a smirk appeared.
Before you knew it, your back met your mattress, and suddenly all you could see was him looming over you. You sat halfway up, your weight supported by your forearms resting on the mattress, and Xavier crawled on top of you, leaning in closer.
“Show me,” he demanded, breathless, stealing a kiss. “Show me everything.”
Your hands held his face, and you smiled, feeling a growing warmth in your belly, already imagining the scenarios you had fantasized the night before would come true tonight.
Closer, your lips inched to his, and the warmth of your breath sent shivers down his spine, and your words thrilling him for what to come. “I want to hear my name on your lips, Xavier.”
dark romance
Everyone had guilty pleasure.
In fact, this particular one might even border on being basic as fuck, you decided.
Curiosity guided you to the first book. It was supposed to be a casual read, something you would pick up from time to time, but instead, you had finished the first book within three days. After that, everything became a blur as you tumbled down a dark rabbit hole seeking out more books of this nature. Dark romances with mysterious men.
Forbidden.
Dangerous.
Erotic.
The male leads were always tall, broad shouldered, and deadly.
This latest book you read was no different. The male lead was a brunet, but you pictured silvery white hair instead.
He had brown eyes. You saw crimson instead.
Your eyes drifted over each word, the image in your mind growing clearer and clearer, until the obscure male leads in your books all took on one form: Sylus.
You couldn’t possibly imagine him with any other women, so of course, you indulged in the fantasy, pretending the heroines in the books were you in another life, and in all of these, your fate was intertwined with his.
Cold and dangerous, he feared no one, but for you, he would submit, yielding his power, glory, and wealth to you.
It all sounded so familiar, you mused.
“A certain kitten is smiling like the Cheshire Cat,” a silky voice drifted into the room, the underlying amusement mingled with his teasing words.
You set your book facedown over your stomach, watching as Sylus approached the bed, settling in next to you. He glanced at the cover of your book, raising one brow at the dark artwork with thorns and roses and black feathers.
“If I recall,” he started, reaching for the book. Immediately, you swatted his hand away, and he laughed, continuing unperturbed, “You were reading this book earlier this month. I thought you had finished it already, sweetie.”
“I did,” you answered calmly, your hand searching for your bookmark while you continued to keep eye contact with him.
“I see,” Sylus responded, amused by your transparent act, “It must be a good book deserving a second read.”
Second read—or seventh, to be exact, you silently mused, knowing it was in your best interest not to let him know otherwise, or else you would never hear the end of it.
“Perhaps you could read it to me tonight then,” he suggested, and you squeaked in surprise. Unfazed by your reaction, Sylus propped himself up by his elbow, his chin resting in his hand as he stared at you with mischievous amusement in his scarlet eyes. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Do you not want to share your bedtime story with me tonight?”
“This book is not your type,” you responded, adding confidently, “You wouldn’t like it.”
“I can be open-minded to new things,” he countered, smirking at seeing your cheeks turning red. “Start reading, sweetie. You can even start on page 114, if you’d like.”
Your brain did an automatic shutdown.
Sylus could barely contain his chuckles, delighting in the way he could actually witness the wheels in your head spinning, trying to process his words.
A moment later, you screeched at him, “You know?”
“That a certain naughty kitten likes indulging in some light erotic reading? Of course,” he answered cooly.
You tried to rack your brain, confused by how Sylus even knew of this in the first place.
“I’ve noticed this particular book showing up several times,” he finally explained, “So I was curious about what sort of reading had you this engrossed for weeks now.”
You processed his words, asking slowly, “Did you…”
“The author certainly knew how to create such an… immersive reading experience,” Sylus quipped, reaching over to rest his hand on top of yours. He then pried the book away, setting it on his nightstand.
“I also know this kitten is keeping another secret she hasn’t shared with me yet.”
“I’m not—”
Immediately, you felt complete and utter mortification when you heard Sylus’ high-pitched voice mocking you:
“‘Sylus—Sylus, don’t stop… like that… yes… ye—'”
You pressed both your hands over his mouth, cheeks burning while his eyes gleamed at you with delight. Sylus easily pried your hands away from his mouth, pulling you to rest under him. Your head turned away, and you glowered, asking begrudgingly, “How—”
“You dialed my number by mistake last night.”
“And you didn’t hang up?!”
He laughed. “And miss out on hearing firsthand what you do during your freetime away and alone in Linkon City?”
You gasped softly, feeling his lips on your shoulder. The kisses he left branded on your skin were electrifying, lingering long after their warmth had disappeared.
“You heard everything?”
He chuckled, but didn’t waver from his ministrations.
“Sylus—”
He continued, his teeth dragged over the strap of your nightgown, and you felt another firm kiss left on your flesh.
“I moaned your name last night… you heard?”
He chuckled again, sounding pleased when he answered you. “Several times.”
The first wave of raindrops hit the floor-to-ceiling windows in Sylus’ bedroom. Within seconds, it was pouring, the noise competing with how loud your heart was beating. Trapped beneath him, you recognized his actions were careful—precise, and… familiar.
“Page 117,” you said suddenly, heart pounding louder, feeling his calloused hands caressing your smooth legs, and then thighs, reaching under your nightgown, his fingers stopping at your panties.
He hummed in agreement, his gaze softening at seeing your surprised expression.
“You read… this section?” you asked hesitantly, mind already remembering the exact infamous risqué scene he was recreating.
“I read the whole book,” he corrected you. “What interests you is interesting to me, and I must say… I am intrigued by your taste, sweetie.”
“Sylus—”
He cut you off with a kiss, his words coming out in between each hot breath. “Tonight… yours… yours… to command…”
Butterflies fluttered in your belly, your cheeks warming up, and you recalled again the section he was emulating, the scene now burned into your memory with perfect clarity. Caught under his crimson gaze, you stared up at your lover.
Dressed in dark clothes, enveloped by a mysterious aura, he commanded the night and all bowed to him. With you, however, he yielded control, wanting to serve and pleasure you, keeping you locked in a state of complete euphoria.
repeated fantasies
“I moaned your name last night.”
The voice message was so short. Not even ten seconds long, but Caleb kept replaying it. The first time he listened, he thought he had misheard what you had said.
So, he listened again, his cheeks reddening as the words—spoken so boldly, so flirtatiously, so teasingly—fully processed in his mind.
Then, he replayed it a third time, fourth, fifth, feeling his pants tightening as he listened to your voice repeating that message, never once imagining how just a few simple words could get him so hard, his mind already forming several lewd images of you the night before, alone in bed, splayed out as you played with yourself, doing unspeakably obscene things to yourself while your own mind was fixated with only thoughts of him.
He needed to know.
He needed the details.
He wanted you to recreate the night before, paint a clearer picture in his mind, or perhaps, he should let his imagination go wild instead, filled with filthy fantasies of you succumbing to your own state of lust.
He wanted to listen to every gasp, every sigh, hear how you moaned his name last night as you shook with pleasure alone in bed, mind swirling with only thoughts of him and a still unsatisfied yearning for him.
You couldn’t possibly be satisfied with your own slender fingers. His were thicker. Whatever toys you had couldn’t possibly fill you with satisfaction. He was thicker.
When you moaned his name, was it with need that you desired something bigger inside your wet cunt? Your needy pussy could only be satisfied by him after all. Caleb was getting dizzied by the shameful thoughts, throbbing with need for answers—for you.
The distance that separated the two of you was felt in this moment. He wanted nothing more than to leave Skyhaven, return to Linkon—return to your side, to keep you in his embrace, to hear you wanting him in the same way he wanted you.
This state he was in now, he wondered if it was similar to how you felt the night before. A certain yearning, and a fiery desire that needed to be quelled, to be answered and satiated in that moment.
He dialed your number. The phone rang, and Caleb smirked when his call went through immediately, sensing almost an eagerness on your end. He was just as eager to hear your voice, wanting dirty answers to his filthy questions.
His mind was already racing ahead again, hearing that sweet, sweet voice uttering such filth to him, and he knew he could get mesmerized and hypnotized by such lascivious words luring him to the pinnacle of pleasure.
“Hello, my Caleb,” you breathed, knowing full well just how much you had already messed with his head with your not-so-innocent voice message.
Caleb chuckled in response, both amused and pleased by your audaciousness.
His pants unzipped, large hand wrapped around his cock. With a leisure stroke, and a shaky breath, Caleb greeted you, voice heavy with arousal, “Hello, my pretty naughty girl.”
[ Masterlist ★ lingering words to you masterlist ★ AO3 ]
