Hello~👋🏻👋🏻 I have a budget of $7
I would like to order a flat white with a lemon cake slice
With Xavier + “be careful of the lightning storm later, or you’ll miss your blue-eyed stranger”
😣😣sorry I couldn’t really think of anything for the prediction 🙃😩😩😩
Once Upon A Dream
A/n: First fic for my 5k and Latte event! Edited your oracle prediction there a little! I did tear up a little while writing this because I was overcome by the feeling that the 'boy in my dreams' from when I was younger might still be out there, waiting for me, since I didn't remember him in this life. I love this trope of souls recognizing each other, even before falling in love, and I hope you all enjoy this fic! Order: flat white + lemon cake slice, $7 Pairing: colleague! Xavier x non mc hunter fem! reader Warnings: MDNI, sex, mild angst and longing, PIV sex, nipple play, soft sex, hickeys, sweet talking, slow burn WC: 6.1k
There are moments when it feels like the universe is trying to tell you something. Nudging at the edges of your memory, gently fidgeting at the threads of recollection as though begging you to remember something that you don’t recall forgetting.
Lately, it felt like you were in a strange bubble of deja vu, bits and pieces of old pictures coming and going from your perception, hovering like fairy dust just out of reach of your fingertips. You didn’t dwell on these fragments, not usually, but now, all of them seemed to feature the boy you used to dream of when you were younger.
It wasn’t uncommon for little girls to dream of princes and knights in shining armor, whisking them away to happily-ever-after. His face was blurred, as though hidden behind a dragonfly’s wings, but it was always him, tugging your hand, hugging you until you disappeared into cotton candy clouds of fluffy imaginings. And the first time he’d kissed you, your twelve-year-old self had woken the next morning, touching your lips, still feeling the warmth of a rapidly fading dream. You’re not sure if you could call it yearning, but that was what it felt like.
All your high school friends discussed crushes growing up. But when it came to you, you could never quite explain how it was possible to be in love with someone you had envisioned in a dream. At first, your friends had teased you, asking you to describe the boy - perhaps it was someone you had seen before but had brushed off, or an old acquaintance that you couldn’t remember. But despite your best effort, you couldn’t describe his face. The dreams never showed it clearly, so you were stuck describing his build: tall, with pretty hands and slim fingers, wide shoulders, and he was always warm.
But his face! His face! They’d always insist. How can you love someone if you haven’t seen their face?
“I don’t know. I just know I do.”
And your friends would roll their eyes, telling you to find someone in real life.
But how do you tell them? How do you tell them he was tangible to you, that he comforted you when you had a bad day, that sometimes, all you wanted to do was sleep because that was the only time you could see him? That he was the reason you’d chosen art as an elective, so that you could see him during waking hours as well?
Drawing him had helped. It made you feel less lonely and stopped the dreams for a few years when you were in college. By this time, you had almost perfected his image, his body forming on the pages with ease as you drew him over and over again, the proportions always exact, even when you sketched him in different clothes or poses. But try as you may, his face never materialized, and you had all but given up trying to guess what he looked like.
The week before you had graduated, it had started again. A gloved hand gently pulling you towards sunlight, towards something familiar, something that felt like home.
Dwelling on it didn’t do you any good, so, as any logical adult would do, you decided to run errands on what was your last weekend of freedom before starting your new job. As you walked back from the grocery store, arms full of bags, you passed by a woman who had set up a small table filled with tarot cards.
“Little miss! Don’t walk on, little miss!” She calls after you, and despite knowing this was likely a scam, you turn, watching as she enthusiastically waves you over. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you walk back a few steps.
“I don’t believe in psychics,” you say immediately, but the woman laughs merrily and gestures for you to sit down on a little foldable chair.
“Never claimed to be a psychic. Just someone who believes in giving people a nudge.” She gestures to the deck. “Shuffle the deck the same number of times as the month you were born in.”
You pick up the deck and glance at her, eyes narrowed. “How much is this going to cost me?”
“No charge! I do this for karma. Sometimes people need a sign, and I’ve never been wrong.”
Sighing, you shuffle the deck and wait.
“Divide it in half, and then from the left half, pull out the card that matches the third number of your birth year.”
You count and place the card heads up.
“Ace of cups. Rain, romance, reconnection. Now same thing but from the right.”
You pull out another card and wait.
“Page of cups. How interesting.” The woman strokes her chin and leans back in her seat.
“Interesting how?” you ask, waiting for her to explain, despite your initial reluctance.
“The page of cups is for dreamers. It appears when you should be trusting your dreams rather than trying to look for answers in reality.”
You snort, but at the same time, feel your pulse quicken. Could she sense your dreams of the boy?
“So what is this supposed to mean? I’m meeting the man of my dreams?”
“Yes, and likely during a rainstorm,” the woman adds, tapping the first card. “Combining these two-” she pushes both cards towards you, “-means you should be open-minded when it comes to love, perhaps believe in the impossible, approach it with the curiosity of a child.”
You laugh skeptically. “I think I’m fine, thanks. Besides, it’s easy for children to dream because they don’t understand life yet. Love isn’t that simple.” Getting up from the chair, you pick up your grocery bags and prepare to leave.
“Ah, but the right person can make it so, can’t they?”
You turn to look at her in the face. “Good evening,” you say firmly and start to walk away.
“Blue,” you hear her say, and you halt.
“What?”
She points to the water present in the backdrop of both cards. “His eyes will be blue. And I hope you don’t walk right by him.”
Surprisingly, your heart skips a beat, and your mind jumps to the unfinished sketch you’d been working on. The woman smiles gently. “Good luck.”
Unable to think of a response, you absently make it back to your apartment, and after setting the groceries on the kitchen counter, run to the sketchbook. You quickly sketch out the rough markings for the eyes on the empty face, then reach for a blue colored pencil, filling in the irises and shading the edges until your heart thumps erratically in your chest at the finished piece.
It just fit. Blue, pretty blue, like summer skies, and calm rivers, aquamarines glittering in the sunlight on a clear day. For years, you’d struggled, trying to find any part of the puzzle that could tie it together, and here it was. The longer you stared, the more you felt yourself hopelessly falling in love with this man you weren’t sure even existed.
And when you fell asleep later that night, setting the alarm to ensure you would wake on time to get to work, you dreamt of him, and his eyes sparkled with joy that you had finally remembered this part of him, because now, he could see you too.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
When you woke the next morning, it was pouring heavily outside, with large gray clouds covering the sky. You immediately think of the psychic and your fortune about meeting the man in your dreams during a rainstorm. Superstitions weren’t your cup of tea - they were cliched and often wrong, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling of mysticism that had worked its way into your brain.
But honestly, who would you meet in the middle of a storm? Everyone was scrambling into the nearest bus shelters or ducking into the subway to avoid the downpour. As you ride the train and fumble for an umbrella as you enter the bustling street full of people on their daily commute, you decide it was all hokum. Pleased that you had arrived with five minutes to spare, you scan your badge and enter the Hunter’s Association building, and head into a large conference room for your introductory meeting. Most of the seats were already taken, and you greeted your boss before settling down at the opposite end of the table. The occupants were a mix of newbies and higher-ranking hunters, and after a moment, your boss closed the door. You notice an empty chair and wonder which poor recruit was late today, courtesy of the rain.
After distributing some materials and explaining the facilities, your boss begins to call off the assigned partners, and the people begin shifting seats to sit next to each other, chatting quietly as they introduce themselves. When your name is called, you look curiously down the long table, trying to guess who you were paired with, only for a knock at the door to interrupt the roll call.
Your boss waves at whoever is outside the door, and when you turn to look, your heart jolts. A senior hunter enters and excuses himself, and your boss shakes her head.
“Right on time. You’re paired with her.” She points to you, and your heart hammers in your chest as he approaches.
Blue, blue, blue.
The prettiest blue eyes that you’d drawn last night. Only now it was on a face along with the rest of his features; Soft, silvery, blond hair framed his forehead, paired with a straight nose and baby pink lips that were curved into a welcoming smile.
“Xavier Shen.” He introduces himself with an outstretched hand. You accept shakily, images of your late-night dreams flooding your mind, and for a moment, you expect the office to blur away, replaced by a castle in the sky, Xavier leading the way.
Giving yourself a mental shake, you smile back, hoping you didn’t look spaced out. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say.
Finally.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
A few weeks in, you’re called for your first mission. As you put on your protective gear, Xavier gives you a brief. A mob of mid-sized wanderers was spotted in downtown Linkon City, and it was your opportunity to prove yourself.
“Do you remember what you’re supposed to do when there’s a mob?”
You almost choke in your haste to answer, wanting to sound smart and confident, but still fumble your words.
“Work as a couple!”
Xavier’s eyebrows knot together in puzzlement as you internally cringe with mortification.
“I mean…! Work in pairs! You know…” You gesture awkwardly at him, feeling like you could curl into a ball of embarrassment and explode. “Use your partner…Okay, I’m going to stop talking now.” You look away, laser-focused on tightening the strap on your wrist when you hear a soft chuckle.
Red-faced and sheepish, you glance at him, your chagrin intensifying as he reaches out to help you buckle the strap into place. Even through the barrier of the thick cloth, his fingers are warm and reassuring, like he’s trying to put you at ease.
“I like that,” he says in his gentle, dreamy voice. “Work as a couple. It sounds less like an assignment and more like we picked each other.” He backs away, and your heart races madly in your chest, kicking up little clouds of hopeless longing in its wake.
“I couldn’t have chosen better,” he adds, and you feel like you could melt into the floor under that gaze. Mentally shaking yourself, you steel your resolve, forcing yourself to remember the mission at hand.
“I’ll come in from the south side, and you come from the north.” Xavier shows you the map on his hunter’s watch. “We’ll group them here.” He points to an open patch. “We’ll activate a barrier and strike.”
“Got it.” You follow Xavier to the transport vehicle. He picks a seat, but when you’re about to settle opposite, he pats the space next to him.
“Couples ride together, don’t they?” he asks with a mildly teasing tone. Your stomach lurches like you missed a step going down the stairs, but you’re too flustered to think of a response. You woodenly accept his offer, sitting next to him, trying to keep a little distance. But as 5 other hunters join you, ready for action within your designated vicinity, you inevitably end up brushing shoulders.
Noise fills the vehicle as the hunters chatter and crack jokes, but all you can focus on is the scent of clean soap emanating from Xavier’s uniform. It’s familiar, and you could’ve sworn this is how he smelled in your dreams.
Humiliated at your lack of nonchalance, you stare at your boots, unwilling to look up and risk more of Xavier’s light-hearted playfulness. Which is how you end up missing the tender way Xavier looks at you before he becomes fixated on the window as you’re driven to the mission site.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Even after settling into a routine, you’re still starstruck whenever you see Xavier. Which, unfortunately, other people had begun to notice. The recruits who started on the same day as you nudge and tease you in the hallways, stifling their laughter and disappearing as Xavier came around the corner, leaving you flushed and awkward to deal with the aftermath.
Determined to expunge your reputation as the rookie with a crush on your senior, you’d gone out of your way to work independently, only for your supervisor to remind you that you needed to work with your partner per the Association regulations. And Xavier had willingly accompanied you each time, until it felt like there was no escape from him.
It was thrilling to be near him, sweet nostalgia filling your being as you spent more time with him. You were hopelessly in love and hiding it poorly. How do you explain to someone, your colleague no less, that you had been dreaming of him for the better part of a decade now? Looking back at your dreams, you find yourself making little connections from the imaginary version of Xavier to his real self. His hands were always gloved, which made sense as a hunter. His shoulders shook when he laughed, a graceful motion, like the kind one could expect from a prince, and you were delighted to see that his actual self did the same.
When you slept with a burdened mind, dream Xavier would sit near you, propping his elbows on his lap and resting his face on his hands, focusing entirely on you, listening attentively as you told him your troubles. And like a mirror, real-life Xavier did the same, dragging his chair over to you when he noticed you struggling or yawning too much, refusing to leave until you told him what was bothering you.
Part of you knew this was inappropriate. You couldn’t behave like a moony-eyed teenager at work, but you couldn’t help but feel like the psychic’s prediction was coming back to taunt you. If it hadn’t been for her, you would have never even considered doing something as foolish as allowing a dream to dictate how you behaved. Keenly aware of how it would look if you acted on your feelings, you were at a loss about how to deal with Xavier. The man didn’t even seem fazed when you slipped up or got tongue-tied around him. He treated it like it was part of your personality, patiently waiting for you to finish rambling before prompting you to the next assignment that needed to be taken care of.
You tried to show appreciation for his guidance, and one day, brought back coffee for him. He thanked you, but when he takes a sip, he’s surprised.
“Something wrong?” you ask.
“Did I tell you how I like my coffee?” Xavier puts the cup down, and you freeze.
“Uh. No,” you mutter, realizing you’d ordered what he had asked for in a dream so long ago. You don’t remember how old you were, but the coffee order had been scribbled down onto a diary page, and you had bought it instinctively.
“Do you not like it?”
“No, I love it.” He cocks his head curiously. “How did you guess?”
You shrug, trying to appear casual. “Just luck.”
Xavier sips again, and you feel tingly and light-headed as you head back to your desk. You needed to be more careful. The last thing you wanted was for the office to spread a rumor about how you were stalking a senior hunter, less than a month into your new job.
“Out of curiosity,” Xavier calls, and you almost spill your coffee in your haste to turn around. “Did you order a flat white?”
You stare at him, nerves coming alive as though little sparklers had been lit under your skin.
“Yes,” you say breathlessly, unable to stop the flurry of emotions swirling around in your gut. “How did you know?”
Xavier shrugs, mimicking your response, a mysterious smile curving his lips.
“Just luck.”
It’s a coincidence, it’s a coincidence.
Your internal monologue wouldn’t shut up after the coffee incident.
Maybe he smelled it. Or you dropped the receipt somewhere, and he saw it.
Smelling a coffee that had a lid and was several feet away from him? And to your dismay, the receipt was in your pocket from the beginning. Your mind wanders to tarot cards and the smile on the psychic’s face.
Fantastic. I’ve gone over to the crazy side. Next thing you know, I’ll see winged pigs flying over Linkon City.
You flip your laptop closed and start packing up for the day. When you get to the subway, who else would be there except for Xavier? It seemed like the universe couldn’t get enough of you two today.
You try to avoid him, stealthily hiding behind a pillar, then tiptoeing in a wide circle around him, certain he wouldn’t see you - his back was turned after all. But of course, the universe wanted a laugh today and sent a gust of wind in Xavier’s direction, who raised his arm and turned away to shield his face, bringing you into his line of vision.
He squints, then straightens, and you feel like a raccoon that’s been caught trying to sneak in through a dog door. Those blue eyes sparkle at the sight of you, and he beckons you over pleasantly. Lead-footed, heart leaping into your throat (don’t people die from arrhythmias like this?), you stand next to him, cheeks hot and flushed.
“Didn’t you get enough of me at work?” He shakes his head emphatically, and you feel like crawling into a hole and remaining there for eternity.
“I swear I’m not stalking you!” You blurt out impulsively. “I ride this train every day!”
Xavier laughs at your panicked expression, the noise so pretty and tuneful that it sends your heart into a spiral of longing, dancing on the invisible notes of his mirth as it floats away into the air.
“I never said you were,” he says after a beat, and you fall silent, feeling ridiculous.
“I’m sorry. It’s just…everyone keeps making fun of me, you know?”
He sobers at your quiet admission and shakes his head. “I’m not mocking you. That wouldn’t be very nice of me, now would it?”
You peek at him, feeling the tightness in your chest unclench. “Promise?”
Xavier resists the urge to laugh again at your poorly concealed need for reassurance. It made you utterly adorable, and he’s wondering how he ended up having you in his care.
“Promise,” he says solemnly, and you sigh in relief. The train crawls to the platform, and you both step into the crowded compartment. Rush hour didn’t make it easy, pushing you two closer and closer as people entered and exited at various stops. At one point, you were almost pushed into his chest as a large crowd got on, jostling you until you lost your balance.
Xavier immediately prevents your fall, his hand respectfully holding your arm as the train moves again, and you resist the urge to nuzzle into his collar, just like you’d done in all your dreams. He looked so soft, so fluffy, so utterly ethereal…was there any universe where he liked you, too?
You get off at the same stop. Another strange coincidence. As you walked to your apartment, both of you were making light conversation, and you managed to confirm things you already knew about him without looking suspicious. A pianist, hotpot lover, and cat enthusiast, little things from your nightly recollections of him coming alive.
“Thanks for walking me home,” you say as you stop in front of the gate, getting ready to give it your fingerprint.
“Huh? I didn’t walk you home.”
“Yes, you did,” you insist. “Why else would you come all this way?”
“Well…” Xavier points at the gate. “I live here too.”
Your brain momentarily forgets how to form words. Then you sputter undignifiedly, “Here?!”
“Yes.” Xavier reaches past you and presses his thumb against the sensor, and you’re flabbergasted as the lock beeps and the gate swings open.
“When…?”
“I’ve always lived here.” He walks in, and you toddle behind him.
“I’ve never seen you around! How did I not know that you lived here?”
“Maybe you just weren’t paying close enough attention.” He winks, and immediately, all the blood rushes to your face, thrumming in your ears. “Some people blend into the background until the timing’s right.”
With that, he bids you goodnight, and you’re left standing in the courtyard, wondering if the world is truly a smaller place than you’d imagined.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Xavier’s comment stuck with you. True, you hadn’t known he lived here, but now it seemed like you kept running into him everywhere.
At the convenience store, when you went to pick up food deliveries, in the elevator of the apartment…whatever camouflage had been pulled over your eyes had vanished. Stranger still was that Xavier seemed unperturbed about your frequent run-ins with each other. It almost seemed like he expected them, even enjoyed them. You remained friendly, trying not to let your eagerness show when you did, because truth be told, those were your favorite moments: seeing him, laughing with him, walking back from the grocery store together.
One evening, you find that the delivery person has mixed up your orders. After texting Xavier, you head upstairs, food in hand, and are greeted by his sleepy self.
“Would you like to come in?” he asks, rubbing his eyes, and you feel like fireworks have gone off in the pit of your stomach. Stepping over the threshold, you look at the neat apartment; it was well decorated and had a homey, lived-in feel to it.
Gathering courage, you ask, “Would you like to eat together?”
For a moment, you’re worried you’ve overstepped, but Xavier smiles at the suggestion.
“I’d like that,” he says simply and holds up the bag containing your order. He gestures to the door that opens to the rooftop. “Outside? It’s a lovely night.”
As you ate, you wondered what kind of paycheck Xavier must be pulling in to afford a nice penthouse like this. The place was large and airy, and the rooftop access was the icing on the cake. He had turned into a cute terrace of sorts, with potted plants occupying most of the space. A sheltered hammock was set up on the other side, and there were birdfeeders everywhere, along with a telescope pointed at the sky.
“Nice place you have here,” you say casually. “I hope someday my hunter’s salary is enough to upgrade.”
He chuckles. “Did you always dream of being a hunter?”
“Not really. But it seemed like a stable option.” You stare absently at the twinkling lights of Linkon City in the background, and when you look back, you nearly fall out of your chair when you see Xavier watching you intently. You’re not sure if it was the beauty of the night, the calming effect of the swaying plants, or the warm, fuzzy feeling that had rooted inside you since Xavier opened the door that pushed you to ask.
“Xavier…Why did you become a hunter?”
His brow furrows as though he’s unsure how to answer the question. After a beat, he hesitatingly begins. “If I tell you…you can’t make fun of me.”
Your curiosity was piqued. Leaning closer, you nod, attention fixed on him. Xavier sighs, suddenly looking nervous, and continues. A gentle breeze disturbs the air and messes with his bangs, and you resist the urge to reach out and push them away.
“You might not have dreamt about being a hunter, but I did. Literally.” Xavier’s eyes take on a glazed look, like he was remembering a far-off memory.
“When I was younger, I kept dreaming that I had saved someone - a girl - from a wanderer. She would always call my name, and wherever I was on the battlefield, I could hear her, and I’d teleport to her side. She…”
Xavier stops, looking sheepish, but you’re engrossed with his story; it was too similar to your own, and you were dying to know the rest.
“She?” you prompt, unable to take your eyes off him, wishing you could hold his hand. He glances doubtfully at you but hedges on.
“There was something about her that made me want to be by her side. Almost like…she was mine to protect, you know?” He looks away and laughs, shaking his head. “That sounds corny, I know.”
“No,” you say in a hushed tone. The moment seems to swell in the silence, tension waiting to drop like a saturated rain cloud. “What did she look like?”
Xavier looks at you disconcertedly, a frown marring his features. “I…I don’t know,” he admits, and his expression changes to something wistful. “I never saw her face. But…there was a feeling.”
His eyes are far away now, as though he was trying to rack his memory, and your heart is beating so loudly you’re wondering how he hasn’t heard it. “That feeling that…I know her. She’s there for me. That she’s…”
“...The one.” You finish and Xavier glances at you, perplexed.
“Yes. How did you…?”
Swallowing, you find the courage to look at him full in the face. “Promise not to make fun of me?” You ask shakily, and Xavier huffs, nodding.
“We certainly seem to worry about being made fun of, don’t we?” he asks, trying to lighten the mood, and you choke back a laugh, feeling tears prick your eyes for some inexplicable reason. You weren’t sad at all, but there was something poignant brewing in this second, like the relief you feel when there’s light at the end of the tunnel.
“I also had similar dreams. Of a boy. He didn’t fight wanderers in mine, but he was always there. When I had a bad dream, or when I did poorly on a test. He was there. And…”
You pause, feeling like you were on the precipice of falling into a risky abyss. But Xavier’s voice cuts through the initial alarm in your head, gentle and coaxing.
“...And?” he asks, patiently waiting for your reply.
“I think I love him,” you whisper. A tear slips from your eye, rolling down your cheek. “And I know how that sounds to be in love with a dream, but…I do.”
His blue eyes now looked like sapphires against the silky black of the night sky. He was in that achingly familiar position with his elbows on the table, chin in his hands as he listened.
“Could you see him in your dreams?” He asks, and you shake your head no.
“He didn’t have a face. Until recently.”
“Recently?”
“Yes. A psychic told me what color his eyes were.”
“A psychic?” You see disbelief cross his face and pout.
“You promised we wouldn’t make fun of each other!”
“Right, right.” Xavier puts his palms up in a gesture of peace. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I was…wondering. Out loud.”
“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically, and Xavier transforms his features into a look of kindness.
“What color were his eyes?”
You hesitate; there was no going back from this. Gathering every last cell of bravery, you say it, the night air carrying it away into the universe.
“Blue.”
Xavier freezes, almost like he was waiting for a punchline, but when you remain silent, he looks at you in wonder.
“Really?” he asks, and you nod.
“I’ve been drawing him for ages, based on my memory.”
“May I see?” He asks, and for a second, you don’t dare believe the sincerity in his question. Was he indulging you? Or was he also trying to put together his own puzzle pieces?
You get up from your chair and offer him your hand.
“Come with me.”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
It didn’t feel out of place, having him in your apartment. Instead, it felt like the thing that had been missing, the one last part that tied everything together.
With unsteady hands, you take your most recent sketchbook, the one where his eyes had been shaded in, and hand it to Xavier. He observes it carefully, drinking in all the details before he flicks through the previous pages until he finds the ones that were just rough lines and criss-crossing impressions.
“You weren’t joking about the eyes,” he murmurs, laying the book on the table, and you shake your head no.
“Who do you think it is?” His hand closes around your wrist, and it feels like there are caged birds in your ribcage, wildly beating their wings to break free. “Do you think…you know who he is now?”
Your eyes squeeze closed, every drop of courage being squeezed into your answer.
“You,” you whisper, and when you open your eyes, something flickers to life on his face, a quiet acceptance, almost brought from relief. His features softened like he was recognizing something, an unguarded show of genuine expression.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He tugs, and you fall into his embrace willingly, nose buried into the crook of his neck. It felt achingly comfortable, years and years of dreaming about it, of feeling it just out of reach of your fingertips, finally becoming reality.
“I didn’t mean to put it on you.” His breath tickles your ear, but you don’t withdraw, body turning soft and pliant as his hands rest on your waist. “But I was afraid I was imagining things. I’m sorry for not saying something sooner, but I didn’t want to scare you off.”
His hug becomes fierce, grip tightening on you in a way that could only be called as possession.
“Thank you for finding me.”
“But…how do you know it's me?” you ask, and Xavier’s soft laugh echoes in your ear.
“I was always helping her with her gloves in mine. Sound familiar?”
You lean back just enough to drown in his gaze, and without another word, Xavier closes the gap and lays his lips over yours. The world tilts, and stars spill over onto your entwined bodies as you lose yourself in his mouth, the feel, the taste, all mixing with yours until there is no way to tell where he begins and you end.
You thought you’d feel inhibited, or at least shy, considering how careful you had been around him all this time, but your body reacted naturally to his, playing off his reactions and touch, growing greedier with each passing kiss. Heat rises in your chest as Xavier sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the bed, which sinks under your weight. Caged underneath his body, you surrender to the rising tide of coiled desires.
“You’re sweet,” Xavier rasps, breaking the kiss to nuzzle your hair. “You taste exactly how I dreamt you would.” His thumb brushes your lower lip, eyes darkening at the edges.
“What did I taste like?” You ask, and you’re rewarded with a kiss on your neck, your collarbone, and a gentle suck that leaves a hickey on your heated skin.
“Like stardust and raindrops.” He cups your cheek and kisses your forehead. “And strawberry pocky shared on a picnic blanket.”
You smile at his description, hands running over his leanly muscled body, admiring the width of his shoulders and the warmth of his large hands. Clothes are shed, slithering to the floor with sighs and the sounds of fingers teasing skin.
His body was pale and limber, and your hand glides down his chest towards his abdomen, feeling the muscles quiver under your touch. His head bows, resting on your chest as he allows you to explore, every little stroke setting him on fire.
“Every part of you is so pretty.” He circles the edge of your nipple as he speaks, and you helplessly whimper at the growing need in your belly, reaching for him as an anchor.
“It’s ok, little star. I’m here. This is happening. We’re not dreaming anymore.” The hot huff of his breath on your delicate peak sends shivers of anticipation scattering through your body, and when his mouth closes around it, you moan, arching under him in need as you cradle his head against your chest.
You feel hardness pressing against your thigh, and to ground yourself, you restlessly start pumping his length, satisfied when you hear him groan, low and guttural in his throat. Everything he did felt so familiar, yet your body responded to him like it was new. The comfort of knowing this may have happened before sinks into your bones, reassuring and soothing as you pleasure each other.
Xavier leaves your breast with a wet plop and busies himself with the other one, a hand slipping between you both as he strokes between your legs. Without shame, you part them, letting him touch as he pleases, pliant and willing; nothing was being done here that hadn’t been done before, but each time mattered like the first.
Your grip tightens on his cock as you feel him probing your entrance, then as a finger enters you, followed by a second, sliding in easily as you stretch to accommodate him. Your movements falter, and Xavier takes his neglected cock with his free hand, positioning it at the apex of your folds.
“I don’t know why but…I keep getting this vision that you’ll like this,” he murmurs, then tests his theory by brushing your clit with his leaking, moist tip. You whimper at the delicate graze, and Xavier feels triumph blossoming in his chest as you reach down to position him again with your hand.
His fingers work inside you, doing come-hither motions on your front wall as you start erotically rocking your hips to get the friction you need, pressing the swollen bud against his slit to wet it with his precum, drunk on lust and emotion.
“It feels good,” you whine, tapping his engorged head against your clit, trembling at the soft vibrations before moving him in circles right over the very top of the organ, thighs quivering as your channel is stroked into a mess of arousal.
“Yeah?” Xavier’s voice is low and feral, restraint close to snapping as you use his cock. “Keep using me. I’m yours.”
The combined assault of his words and fingers finally works their magic on you; your hips move rapidly as you feel the beginnings of a promising orgasm, sliding your sticky clit over him, eyes squeezing closed as gratification blossoms from your core and explodes into your fingertips.
His name falls from your lips over and over as you fall through a haze of prismatic light, his arms wrapping around you as he holds you to his chest, guiding you through the dizzying blur of sensations.
“I’ve got you, just breathe,” he whispers as the spasms start to quiet down. Sweat beads on your forehead as he kisses your temple.
“You ok?”
“Yeah,” you manage to utter, and Xavier tenderly lays you back against the pillows as he moves into position, his cock hard and pulsing, begging for release.
“Ready?” he asks and you nod, letting him position your body so that you can wrap your legs around his waist. Your breath mingles with his as he pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to his size, kissing you all the while, your foreheads touching as your bodies merge.
“Oh Xavier you…” You cling to him as he thrusts, the wet schlick of your combined fluids filling the air. As he angles his hips to reach the right spot, the world disappears until he’s all you can focus on, working together in sync.
Everywhere he touched, a part of you glows in perfect synergy, bodies unaccustomed to each other, but the souls remembering and picking up the ancient dance in perfect harmony.
“I missed you.” Xavier’s hips stutter as his breathing grows shallow. Seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, you stroke his cheeks, fixing your eyes on his.
“I know. I missed you too.”
© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating
Star blinking divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more, everything by me using Canva
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