#purpleconch

[purpleconch]

“Ah, ah… not there.” Whimpers spill from him, his tense muscles becoming limp as his lips touch his neck again.

The makeout session you had begun with your boyfriend had started to heat up. Rafayel’s shirt had come off minutes ago, a new space to explore, taste, and devour. The sultry feeling in your body on the cusp of erupting, your hips grinding into him every time you captured his lip. You began to move lower, kissing the side of his mouth before going below his chin. As soon your lips stroked his neck, your hot breath grazing the sensitive skin exposed. Rafayel’s body shuddered, desperately whining into your ear, his tight grip around your waist falling lower. Tucking his hand under the hem of your shorts, caressing your skin, his nails digging deeper into your ass.

“Cutie… you can’t, fuck.” Your lips connect once more, tongue circling over the nape of his neck. Matching the rhythm of your hips, Rafayel would begin to buck up against you. Feeling his cock harden beneath you and worsen the heat you were experiencing. He would fib at his lips, frustration rushing through his body, overwhelmed by the pleasure that would flow through him.

You’d roughen your taste, sinking your canines deep enough to break his skin. What was once a sweet low whimper became a roaring moan, his nails ruining the exposed skin of your thighs.

“You… you, taste… so good,” you muttered through the various marks you were leaving. The orchestra of moans and whimpers filled your ears, as he became more and more excited.

“If you keep doing that… mmm,” his thin underwear would soak from the precum that would continue to leak as you both would hump like wild animals. You would disconnect from Rafayel’s neck as his excitement was approaching it's high, cusping his face with your hands. Syncing your breaths as you’d rub on him faster and keeping eye contact between you both. His slender fingers capturing every movement, pushing your lower half deeper into his. Rafayel would steal a kiss, greedily biting your lip as he separated from you once more.

“Yes, yes… just like that. Can’t believe you were… gone, can’t believe… ah, I didn’t see you this whole week.”

[purpleconch]

Missed Messages.

⋆˚࿔ word count: 796

⋆˚࿔ author’s note: sick mc with worried rafayel hmmmmm

warnings: fluff, sick mc, suggestive, cute couple stuff and whatnot

⋆˚࿔ credit: @.uzmacchiato for the pearl dividers

It was quite normal for Rafayel’s texts to go unseen during a workday, a call to become missed, or even an evening where you would work overtime, but you always made sure to reply to him as soon as you were off work. Giving him a full recount of the day or any secret gossip of what happened off or on the field, he liked hearing from you. Knowing if anything exciting happened, you immediately bounced with anticipation to tell him.

Even in recent days, you rarely spent time apart, going between your apartment and his house. Practically living in each other’s skin when you both had free time, cuddled up under each other to read, watch movies, or play the daily crossword. To define it, Rafayel’s relationship with you was domestic. He cooked and cleaned for you often, made sure to routinely kiss you after work, sometimes even showing up unexpectedly outside the Hunter’s association to drive you home. To the point where your coworkers were convinced that any vacation you took, you would come back with news of being married. 

Rafayel never missed a chance to kiss you or encase you in his arms. Always willing to show publicly how much you are loved, and even more behind closed doors. He adored the way you’d sleep, always pressing your forehead into his chest, hugging him tighter when he silently wept from a nightmare. Spending time on the beach, building various sand castles to emulate your future together, and imagining what your forever home would look like. Whether you'd accommodate his long baths with a huge pool or maybe have a claw machine so Rafayel doesn't spend his entire life savings on one plushie.

However, Rafayel had been waiting for a text for almost 8 hours. He was telling himself not to panic, not to immediately resort to the worst situation in his head. One day of silence couldn’t hurt anyone. Maybe you were tired or caught up with some friends after work. Still, his mind wandered as he tossed and turned in his sleep, checking his phone for just a small indication of life. 

It’s been a full 24 hours, no text, no call, not even a change in the status of your favorite game. Rafayel was fighting the urge to just go into your place–he had the key, the address, but he didn’t want to overstep, make a big deal out of nothing. Yet, he took the chance anyway.

As soon as he stepped through your apartment doors, he noticed the sink full of various mugs, the counter riddled with all types of flu medication. He called for you while motioning closer to your bedroom–no response. The bedroom was clear, only an unkempt bed. He could feel your energy wavering in the apartment–he didn’t know how to explain it, but he could. So he kept looking, and next he entered the bathroom. There you were curled up in the tub, covered by a thin blanket. It was obvious you were sleep deprived, bothered by some sort of ache of the head or throat—resting unwell, it would seem. 

Rafayel had some relief that you were safe, at home, but still, worry plagued him. He rested onto his knees, softly caressing your cheek. 

“Cutiee,” he gently whispered, your head turning to his voice. He found your habit to be cute, to be fully aware somehow, but sleeping. Rafayel called for you again, eyes fluttering open and a smile erupting on your face. You were happy to see him, wanted to hug him, and kiss all over his face. Mustering up all the strength you had to croak up a small, high, crinkled sound from the pain in your throat. 

“You don’t sound too good,” he pouted, pressing a small peck onto your forehead. “Let’s go to your bedroom, ok?” 

“Raf.”

“Hm?”

“I missed you.” Although it was a small whisper, a sound that sounded like it hurt coming from your throat, he appreciated you more than you could ever know. Every doubt of boundaries being crossed had been healed, knowing you longed for him as he did you.

 Rafayel immediately got to work, beginning with the heavy lifting, carrying to bed from the bathroom. Setting the water to boil, adding all the vegetables and stock packets to the pot. Promptly feeding you on your bed, playing with the spoon as he fed you to see you smile again. Rafayel wasted no time after you scraped the bowl clean to cuddle up next to you. 

“Raf, you’ll get sick, come on.” He kissed your cheek again and again and again. 

“Well, how will miss bodyguard ever get better if she doesn’t get her daily dose of love?” 

“You can love from afar.”

“It’s not the saaaaame.”

[purpleconch]

"I see it, Zayne, just up ahead."

You say as you drag your beanstalk of a boyfriend through the crowd of patrons at your local winter market. For weeks, you ranted to him about the special cider donuts from the stall that was too far to travel to regularly–only appearing in Linkon City from November to December. Of course, the sweetest tooth of them all, Zayne, had no choice but to follow you to truly understand the remarkable taste of the cider donuts you would rave about for days.

Zayne would take out his small journal, filled with the copious amount of sweets you both had tried on your romantic excursions. Taking note of the date, location, and illustrating the dessert to the best of his ability. Zayne enjoyed revisiting the charming memories, thinking of a time when you both will have grey hair and sagging skin. How you'd laugh about the third date–making a bold move to feed him the sweet pudding but dropping it on his slacks. How your mouth was left agape after hearing the price of the simple black pants, and your offer became a fleeting one, quickly forgotten.

Zayne would sometimes paste various receipts or photostrips onto the pages, scrapbooking in his spare time with you in the handheld book.

"Order #16."

You rushed to the window, taking your donuts and hot chocolate to Zayne and bringing them to the table where he was resting. He began his scribbling, noting the hints of maple syrup they added and strictly adding his rating. Zayne would continue on to the pastry, cutting it before offering the first piece.

"Something is on your lip there."

The tip of his finger would brush your lip, pointing to the corner, before he would collide his lips with yours.

[purpleconch]

“Aah… aaah… cutie.”

Red rope confined him to the rattan chair, taken from some corner of the house to serve your pleasures. The tight bond forcing his exploring hands from finding you, trapped in your torture. His soft pink tip had deepened in color, little bits of pre-cum softly shining in the subtle light of the lamp. Your pumping hand slowed, wiping your thumb over the tip as his teeth gritted.

“I was… mm almost there, just let me please.” Desperate eyes searched for your leniency, his plump lips pouting naturally. Your damp hands began their motion again, Rafayel’s hips making up for your slow efforts. He cracked a whine from the lack of speed, dropping his head back. Sweat gripped to his shirt, his toned body peeking through the white of the wet shirt.

Your tongue dragged over his length, taking the time to watch as he squirmed in anticipation. Rafayel sat up as far as he could, see your pretty mouth take in his cock. See your cheek fill with a bulge and hear the sweet melody of his tip hitting the back of your throat.

“Come on, love, you can take it.” Sweet whines continued to fill your ear, Rafayel heater skin spreading warmth through you. You continued to take his length, making eye contact with him as you filled your mouth.

“Just like that, I’m gonna cum.”

Quickly you removed yourself from him to watch him writhe in agony. How his once body full of pleasure had now ached, how it reached for you like a plant drifting to sunlight. Sweat dripped down his abdomen, into the purple hair usually below his belt.

“Cutie, you’re killing me.”

[purpleconch]

Rafayel was hunched over in a terrible position, constantly shifting in his seat to ease the slight pain that would ache in his back. His odd posture would feed into the lump that would form in his back in the coming years. A portion of the blame would be placed on his obvious older age–however, given the time he has dedicated to painting, it would be impossible to place the blame solely on him.

He continues to stroke at the canvas, mixing the hues of the candescent white, highlighting the shine with a pale purple. He reaches for the palette knife once more, scraping the deep grey of the palette to slide on the canvas.

Rafayel’s inspiration finally came to him in a dream after a week of a blank mind, however, yesterday, an image flashed in his mind. He tried to recreate the very scene, had you stand in the same position, listen to him hum the same tune. Yet, the image still remained a fleeting thought. For the rest of the day, Rafayel couldn’t even mention the word paint without writhing in agony over his lost ideas.

When you awoke the next morning, Rafayel’s side of the bed was empty. When you finally found him, he was sat like a shrimp trying to capture the coast of some beach he had recalled in his memories on the rough canvas.

Tiptoeing around him, hoping he’d maintain his focus on his craft. You rest a bowl of fruit on the table to his left, touching his back as you pass. He’d raise his head slightly, meant to utter a “thank you,” but nothing came from his mouth instead–just small intelligible mutterings. He was in too deep, wanted to recount the vision that played in his head before it would fly away.

The intensity of his passion was adorable, the way he would stick his tongue to his lip and suck on the corner of his lip in concentration. Maybe it was the way he’d hide his hand underneath the opposite arm and squeeze his chest slightly that made you feel some case of adornment for him. You kissed him once on his cheek–shortly, then pulling back to take in the view of his work.

Rafayel’s mind had reset, a blank slate now replacing the illustration he had captured in his mind. Your hand could feel his curved back turn straight, his fingers brushing across his face against where your lips had previously touched. Heat spread through his body, his eyes slowly shifting to you.

“What? I can’t kiss my sweet boyfriend?” You tease, trying to overcompensate for the nervousness that was simmering in your chest. Rafayel’s expression doesn’t change as he suddenly towers over you, his head leaning down to your face. He starts out soft, gently capturing your lips before becoming ravenous. He begins to fiddle behind his back, quickly removing the sweater he had on. “Raf,” you try to speak, but as he draws in his breath, his lips find yours again.

Finally, you turn your head, giving yourself enough time to get a handle on the situation. But there would never be enough seconds to truly wrap your head around the current situation, let alone let yourself weasel out of it. His body is pressed to yours, full of desire as he takes a single gulp. Rafayel’s desperate eyes search yours–on pause as you issue him a command.

“Raf, you should finish your painting,” you say timidly, still avoiding his gaze. You were a terrible liar, trying your absolute best not to turn around and return his kiss. “I’m all done,” he whines. You could feel the mischievous smile on his face taunt you–he pulled you closer to him, nudging his nose into your sensitive neck. You tried your best to hold back a reaction, gritting your teeth visibly to prevent yourself from succumbing to his methods. “You’ve just started,” you turn your head back to glare at him. His face was flushed with red, ears dipped in the same rose color, not of embarrassment but passion.

Rafayel couldn't care less about the silly painting–he could paint for thousands of years, produce pieces for dozens of decades. Kissing you was a rare contingency, a devout promise he would renew each time you connected. He’d abandon the deficient quantity and fame for just a mere chance to show his appreciation once more.

“Oh, come on, I can finish it later. There are other important things I must tend to,” he replies, softly pecking your neck.

“My love, yesterday, you had me contort myself into various positions,” he snickered, “… get your mind out of the gutter, fish boy. The point is you’ve been trying so hard to remember your inspiration.”

“But your kiss,” he pouts, “it’s way better than some painting.”

“I’m not sure if Thomas would agree.” Rafayel shoots his head up, offense played throughout his face.

“To hell with Thomas.”

Rafayel begins to kiss all over your face, evoking sweet laughter from you.

“Thomas can wait another week–unfortunately, you can’t.”

[purpleconch]

Later.

⋆˚࿔ word count: 1.7k

⋆˚࿔ author's note: i read a zayne fanfic with a similar prompt, thought of xavier then took a while to write it and now i can't find the zayne fanfic ( T n T ), if anyone can remember so i can tag the person but like yeah xavier hehehe

⋆˚࿔ tags/warnings:

smut, very suggestive, nsfw, !subxavier but he kinda switches, established relationship, bet, fingering, nipple play, kissing, xavier down bad but can't act nonchalant for his life

⋆˚࿔ credit: @.uzmacchiato for the star divider; @.anitalerina for the animated divider

“You think you can last two weeks?” You scoff at him, sitting up from your previous laid out position and folding your arms at Xavier. Not looking away from his game, he doubles down on his answer, letting out a definite, “Uh-huh.” He continues to aggressively hit the buttons, triggering a special move that eventually leads to a K.O. to flash on the screen.

“Bet on it,” you say sternly. “We’ll go two weeks, no sex.” Xavier’s head finally turns to you, a mischievous grin panning across his face. “You are so on.”

He started the bet off well, making himself too busy to be alone with you more than your daily routines of living together. Practically speeding through the first week with barely a kiss to showcase his usual lust. Xavier had rebranded into a coy man. His hands that once gripped your side in the mornings, the heat of his body warming you during the cold nights. Lost in the sacrifice of a bet you foolishly made.

You thought you could last, believing that the previous years without Xavier were easy–this was no different. What could be hard about something you had been so accustomed to previously? Everything.

You couldn’t be sure what it was: a new haircut, a fresh shave, maybe the tightness of his shirt. Xavier looked unnaturally good–his thick arms and calloused hands were enough to make you feel like ripping your shirt open and roughly taking him in the kitchen. His desperate eyes were practically begging you to fuck him as he waved to you, rinsing the dish he had been washing. You would never admit defeat, horny yet too stubborn to take the first step of defiance.

You sat in your thoughts for a moment, attempting to organize through the distractions. Trying your best to ignore the tightness of his jaw, how the pale color of his skin would redden under your touch. Finally, concocting a plant hat that nearly any man would fall for, especially Xavier.

A cool wind passed through the floral lace that tightly hugged your body, hugging the curve of your waist. The fabric barely covers the naked silhouette of your body as you view yourself in the mirror.

“Xavier,” you called, your palms starting to sweat. “Yeah,” he yelled back, hearing his footsteps begin to creep down the hallway of the apartment. “My love?” He stopped as soon as he caught a glimpse of you, frozen in the doorway with pointed ears deepening in color. His entire body was flushed in pale red, licking his lips as he let out a soft “wow.”

“I was trying on some clothes, and I ran into this old thing. Do you think I should keep it?” You pull on the strap, slapping back on your skin. Xavier gulps at the sound, “Old thing? It looks… um… okay to me.” His lips quivering, barely letting the sentence come from his throat. Eyes glued to your every move, shifting as your hand moved down your torso; circling your palm around the exposed skin of your ass.

“You think it’s just okay, nothing more?”

“No, no, I mean… it looks really, like really good.” He inched closer to the bed. Xavier was stuck in a trance, unknowingly becoming a fly reaching into the trap.

“Do you want to help tie the bow in the back?” You turn around on the bed, resting on your knees and noticing his shadow come over you, and he drops to his knees. Soft hands find the ribbon and tie it quickly, hands gone before you could register his touch. He was making it incredibly hard to seduce you, acting as if he’d never felt the touch of a woman in his life. When you turned to face him, his eyes were averted, hands glued to his knees.

“And how about that bow?” He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply before relaying the answer. “Good,” his short answers deepening your annoyance. You were swelling in need, desperate to have hands feel on you, but he could barely muster up the strength to even stare at you. Pathetic.

“Xavier?”

“Hm?” He replied. Your hand grabbed his face, turning his direction to you. “Look at me and answer again… truthfully this time.” His deep blue eyes looked to yours, moving down as you let go. Pink lips left agape in the overwhelming shock of a beauty such as yours in his presence.

Between the coming tightness of his pants, his increased blood pressure, and the intensity of your gaze, Xavier had gone mad. If you were to tell him to get on all fours and bark, he’d happily oblige. Instruct him to jump off the tallest building, and he’d climb it in an instant. His mere eyes could not capture your beauty, nor would they ever encapsulate the radiant being you were. How could he put that into words, explain to you that you made him inconceivably mad? How the beauty mark on your right shoulder he was so fixated on was to be targeted by his lips each time they would kiss your face.

“You look,” eyes going back to your face, “stunning.” Silly little words, just a comically embarrassing bet to make with you when he was well aware of his nature. So when you finally fell to the floor, you cupped his face and stood on your knees between his thighs. Both of your lips, just a few inches away, heavy breaths exchanged between you both. You could feel him hard, pressed against your knee, physically see the restraining force he placed on himself. He gave in, roughly capturing your lips, a deep groan coming from his release. His once still hands, having nails dig into the mesh work of the lingerie. His ravenous kisses to your lips would travel to your jaw and down your neck. Pecks transforming into grapples of the tongue, beckoning the sweet sounds of pleasure.

“You said,” leaving your neck for a moment, “said no sex.” Teasing you with your own words, he was aggravating.

“I know, I- fuck… know.” Xavier’s hands tugged the lace, pushing it past your shoulders and unveiling your breasts. His tongue swirled around your nipple, throwing your head back and enclosing Xavier between your arms. “This isn’t… sex.”

He pulls away for a moment, blue eyes looking to you. “Then… what would this be?” His cock twitched, using the time to mark your neck and catch a sweet whimper from you. “We’re just talking.” Xavier chuckles at your response, pushing you down onto the rug. Beginning to grind into your hips between the two layers of fabric. He needed to be in you, feel the way you’d clench around him when he’d pinch your nipple. Whisper sweet nothings as he continues to turn you into a mess, watch the way you’d whine for his cock.

“No sex?”

“No sex,” you replied. The kissing resumed, intensifying as Xavier would grind into you. “Alright,” he whispered into your lips with a smile. His slender fingers pushed past the bunched fabric, slicking his fingers before massaging your clit. Taking the time to tease you and leave your lips. Instinctively, your head chased afterhimmi,m but as his digit slid right into your cunt, a crackled moan followed straight after. Your mind went blank, pleasure clouding every single thought or worry you previously had. He had consumed you, the temptation of what you thought wassilver-hairedred bunny turned out to be a fox preying on you.

Xavier’s finger curled into you faster, your back rising off the carpet. “Taking it like a good girl, aren’t you?” A sly smile displayed on his face, enjoying your desperate need as your body would jitter from his fingers. Your nails dig into his arms, a poor attempt to mask the feeling beginning to beat in your pelvis. “Yes, yes, that’s it, be a good girl and cum, cum for me.” His sultry tone, veins popping out, hair drenched by the sweat on his forehead.

Everything was too tantalizing, senses too heightened–you practically built the trap and stepped in it immediately after. A bet you created to cage your horned out boyfriend was now biting you in the ass. “Come on now, you don’t want to disappoint me?” One final request from him beckons you to unravel, your body beginning to shudder. “Xavi- Xavier,” you pleaded, his hands still managing to move as you tightened. You gripped tighter to his arm, lifting yourself to moan into the soft cotton of his shirt. Eventually, releasing him and fell to the carpet again.

“You’re not done, right?” He took his fingers, making sure you saw him lick up the remains of your slick. You were a mess, barely coherent to answer his teasing questions. Yet, your ragged state was what was enticing cum to spill onto the cloth of his boxers.

Xavier slid his pants down, unveiling his hard cock, shuffling his knees to rub it against your opening. His hands separate your legs, opening them further to get a better view of your dripping cunt. Xavier would continue to pump his own cock, rubbing it softly against your clit. “I- I thought we said no sex,” gulping out of nervousness as the fatigue began to settle in. You could be for round 2, but you needed at least a few minutes to catch your breath. “Don’t worry, I keep my promises.”

His gentleness found its speed, intensifying as his hunger grew. He’d continue moaning and whimpering, cursing under his breath.

A mixture of words, false promises, and bets, yet you didn’t want him to stop. Wanted him to take you for his pleasure, watch his pretty face contort as he tried to hold back. He captures your waist, reciprocating the same deep hunger, feeling your heated skin continue to chafe against his fingers. Xavier ogles the subtle movement of your boob, watching as it continues to bounce from his thrusts. “I keep… ngh… my promises.” He would groan, his cock beginning to feel the rush of pleasure, on the cusp of a release.

In an instance, Xavier had released all over your clit, immediately dropping to lie beside you. He’d kiss you again, instead of planting soft, slow pecks on your lips and cupping your face out of adoration.

“I definitely won, though, right?”

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[purpleconch]

Tearful Night.

⋆˚࿔ word count: 709

⋆˚࿔ author’s note: insecure worrying rafayel here to see you hahaha

⋆˚࿔ warnings: sort of angsty, comfort, suggestive, drabble, fluff, kissing, undressing, crying, promises made, established relationship

⋆˚࿔ credit: @.uzmacchiato for the pearl dividers

A cool breeze travels from the open balcony doors, dissipating the humid atmosphere from earlier when the hot sun consumed the area of land. Your body was sprawled over Rafayel’s bed, his sheets entangled in your legs while you played a game on your phone. Patiently waiting for Rafayel to finish up his painting, when you came home from work, his hands held loose strokes, various colors dried on his skin. His smock was ruined with the various attempts of lessening the material on the brush for smaller strokes.

You had sat with him for a while, talking about your mission at work and the dreadful paperwork that followed. Rafayel took his turn to explain the masterpiece he was working on now and how he was well past the deadline, but he’s finally towards the end.

After about 3 hours of silence between you two, the only sounds came from subtle brush strokes on the canvas. The crashing waves acted as white noise for you both, as the moon began to swallow the room with its light. You got up, sat next to him, and really digested the piece he had made before softly pressing your lips to his forehead. Shortly after, rub his shoulder and tell him you’d be off in the bedroom when he was ready to sleep. He held onto your arm for a moment, readying himself to let go of you for just a moment. He raised your palm to his lips, gently kissing the top and letting you go into the night.

It wasn’t long before Rafayel had found his way into his bedroom. Hearing the muffled footsteps of his bare foot on the hardwood became clear as the door creaked open. You looked down from your phone, his tall figure barely captured by the light of the lamp.

“Coming to bed already?” You asked sweetly. Rafayel gave no response, his figure still for a moment. Then he motioned towards you, his face finally captured by the light, tiny pearls falling from him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You sat up, setting your phone aside. His face wet with tears was unchanging, he undressed his top and slipped himself onto you. His head rested on your chest, the rest of his body between your legs.

“I missed you… a lot,” he mumbled with a face wet with tears. His dark eyes looked at you, the crimson color almost enveloping the original dark color. Rafayel fluttered his eyes–his weight rested on your stomach.

“I’m miserable without you.” His pink lips find a pout, Rafayel’s eyebrow curved in awe. He pushed his body up, hovering over you, taking in every detail of your face and body. Rafayel never wanted to forget the moles on your body, the curve of your nose. No matter what he created, whether it be a sculpture breathtakingly similar to you or a painting matching the curves of your hip, they could never match what you were like in the flesh. You would never know how long Rafayel waited to have you in his embrace again, how long he waited to hear you call his name.

“I was not far,” you replied, wishing to ease his worries. Turn his pout and full cheeks into a smile. He fell next to you on his side, looking at you like it was the final time. Rafayel cupped your cheeks, pulling your lips to his. He kissed you with all his might, his palm reaching further down to your neck. Your head was practically on fire, all the heat from your body reaching his fingertips.

Rafayel released your lips, kissing under your chin before finding your neck. “Promise you’ll never leave,” he whispered between each gentle peck. His arm wrapped around you, and he whispered to you again.

“Promise me, promise you’ll stay here with me forever, ” he repeated, pressing his lips onto your shoulder. Soft whimpers spilling from your mouth as he found each pressure point, his tongue lapping at the sensitive skin exposed.

“Never, I’ll never leave you,” barely getting the words out, your breath getting heavier as he moved lower down your body.

“Promise, promise me.” He moved his body over yours again, pushing down the straps of your top.

“I promise, forever.”

[purpleconch]

Dress to Impress.

⋆˚࿔ word count: 660

⋆˚࿔ author's note: xavier getting freaky in the backrooms, what's new

⋆˚࿔ tags/warnings: fluff, EXTREMELY suggestive, nsfw, public display of affection, larger boob size, comfort, established relationship, kissing, drabble but would be open to making another part lol, #noangst, grinding in 4k, lots of touching, doesn't reach 4th base but was close as hell

⋆˚࿔ credit: @.cursed-carmine & @.anitalenia for the sparkle-line dividers

“This dress is a little tight on the top, don’t you think?” You asked Xavier, twisting and turning to show him every angle of the dress on you. His eyes followed every curve of how the dress hugged you, seeing how well you looked in every position. Xavier shifted from his aloof manspread on the cushion of the chair and rested his arms on his knees. Eyes honing in on the swell of your breasts as it bursts at the seams of the top, spilling out over the top ever so slightly. It was more cleavage you were aiming for, especially for an event hosted by the Hunter’s Association.

“I see no problem with it,” he replied, giving you a cheeky smile. “As a matter of fact, I’d prefer if all your tops were like this.”

You scoffed at his response out of playful annoyance, turning your back to him so he could unzip your dress. His large hands gripped your waist as he pulled down the zipper, finding his hands lower before you went off behind the curtain again. The rising excitement immediately left as you departed from his touch, replaced by the passing breeze of the old air conditioning system. Xavier felt conflicted, obviously, you both were there, looking for a nice formal dress and nothing else. However, his imagination was traveling far.

Xavier wore his feelings on his sleeve–every time you unveiled yourself from the curtain, his hands latched onto your skin. His fingers itching between outfit changes, longing to make contact with your skin again. Needing to hold you in his embrace, wanting to take you behind the curtain and press you against the dressing room’s mirror. Xavier knew it would be greedy of him, have his cake and eat it too in public. However, you are insatiable–even if you came out in a garbage bag, his heart would fall out of his chest, and sonnets of your beauty would spill out of his mouth.

Finally, you came out in another dress, and what felt like a stone welled in Xavier’s throat. He gulped it down, his eyes on the most perfect dress he’s seen on you. He loved the way it was tight in particular places, how the color complimented your skin–the dress felt like you.

“Zip me up, please.” His hands frantically find the zipper and seal you in the dress. You turn to him, showing off the subtle details of the dress.

“We’ll get this one,” Xavier blurted–arms wrapping around you.

“Really? I don’t know.” Your lips turned into a small frown, moving back from his clutch to rest your hands on your hips. Xavier gestured closer, closing the gap between you, subtly pushing you into the dressing room.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Xavier turned you around, pressing his hand into the mirror, his hips grinding into you.

“You look so stunning, my love.” He whispered into your ear, his hand reaching to close the curtain behind him. “Teasing me, acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.” His hand reached for your face, turning your direction from the mirror and kissing you passionately. Xavier heard your pretty little whimpers begin, excitement rushing through his body. Your faint breath fogged the mirror as his hand cupped your breast. Heat spelled your body, anticipation ruling your mind in wait for his next move. Xavier was allowing lust to overtake his body, feeling how you squirm underneath him while an employee was mere feet away was addicting–a high he was willing to chase for the sake of pleasure.

“Look at you, all pretty for me.” He separated from your lips and turned your face to the mirror, his cheeks flushed with a soft pink. Xavier’s heavy breath in your ear, his hands held onto your waist. “I’ll buy the dress, show everyone how gorgeous my star is.” He kissed your cheek before releasing you from his embrace.

“I’ll wait for you outside, ok?”