ANON...sorry this took so long!!! Enjoy freaked out bunny boy, mwah! IT’S ABT TIME I WROTE SOLO XAV!!! Some reworked lines from misty silhouette! I have a much cuter piece for him in the backlogs, I’ll get there, I swear!
- Blueberry જ⁀➴ ৻ꪆ (Masterlist)
One too many conversations with other hunters coupled with you and Neo gushing over the illustrious Lumiere...is what got you in this position.
***
“Have you ever thought about switching partners?” It didn’t matter who was asking—it simply mattered that the question was being propositioned to you at all.
“Oh! Um…no, not particularly. Xav and I—”
The hunter interrupts you, “Or, at least, going on missions with other hunters? You know, it’s good for us to—”
Suddenly, a cool, calculated and discerning—yet eerily calm—voice breaks the tension, “It’s good for us to what?”
“Oh, uh! You know...work with everyone in the field…”
“Um, yeah…so, anyway…” The hunter looks back toward you, “Just think about it, hm?”
As the hunter turns away, you notice Xavier take a step forward so you instinctively grab the cuff of his uniform, stopping him by his wrist. When he looks back at you, his bright eyes are steely, focused into a slight squint. You return to him an overtly pleading look—keeping your relationship a secret at work is already hard enough as is.
This was just one of today’s frustrating scenarios... Eventually, you could practically see the steam boiling out from his ears—eyes twitching with irritation.
***
Leaving the association, after the elevator dings and the doors open completely, Xavier is shoving you inside with one nice, firm push between your shoulder blades with his fingertips. Not hard, but not soft, either. “In, Starlight.”
You feel a steady throb between your legs. His avid tendency toward jealousy shouldn’t have this effect on you, but... “Xav—”
“Quiet.”
When the doors close, he’s immediately pressing you against the back wall of the elevator, his chest against your back. His voice is full of grit, “What don’t you understand about the words, ‘You’re mine’?” You’re already stuttering, trembling with fear and excitement within his grasp. He drives his hips into your ass when he gets no response, “Hm?”
Feeling hot, you stutter, “I d-do understand.”
“I don’t think you do.” Slowly, he brings your hair to one side of your neck, whispering in your ear, “Don’t. Move.” He lets you go, turns, and hits the emergency stop on the elevator with his fist. You don’t dare move.
When you hear him step back to you, “X-Xav—”
He’s expeditious in his interruption, “Ah, ah. I clearly need to show you...” With his palm against the back of your head, he grips lightly and turns your head to the side, pressing your cheek against the cool metal of the elevator wall, “I need to put you in check, hm? Remind you who you belong to.”
Instinctively, you press your hips back, your ass flush against his groin, “Ngh—mmhm—”
“Good. Now, be quiet and be a good girl for me, yeah?” You nod the small extent you’re able considering the pressure from his hand and his body.
Finally letting you go, he yanks all the material at your hips down to your ankles as hard and as fast as he can. The act rips a whine out of your throat.
He’s quick to stand back up to the sound of your needy whine, shucking off his own pants just enough to grip his hard cock. With his free hand, he pushes against your shoulder, your hips naturally going out and back even further as your chest flattens against the wall. Lining himself up with you, “God, you just love pissing me off, don’t you, Star?”
He didn’t mean it—well, maybe about the Lumiere comments... Regardless, the suspension of disbelief made the air thicker—and you both knew it...needed it.
***
The walk back to your shared apartment complex is quiet, small murmurs—near whimpers—falling from your lips to the feeling of his cum dripping out of you and into your panties. He’s noticeably smug, but still obviously upset. His jealousy does have its bounds, if one could believe it—but today was particularly frustrating. More than one proposition from other hunters, as well as Lumiere this...Lumiere that. He had enough.
When you enter your apartment together, the silence only feels louder. Setting your things down, he starts to strip himself of the outer layers of his uniform. “You can’t still be—” You stop yourself, and with a hint of humor in your tone, “…Are you pretending to be mad, Xavier?”
Grabbing your wrist, he pulls you into his chest, using his other hand to swoop a finger under your chin and cock your head up to meet his hard gaze, “I only ever pretend not to be.”
Trying to fight a sly smile, you let your index finger of your free hand not gripped by his press into his chest firmly, “I thought you were the type to calm down quickly, no?”
His chin lifts slightly as he peers down at you. “That depends…” his finger under your chin is joined by his thumb, enacting a tight grip, “on who I’m with...” Your lips part when his thumb tugs on the space between your bottom lip and chin, “It also depends on how I want to calm myself down...” The flat look in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine, and all you’re left able to provide him with is a short nod.
He leans in slowly, his lips hovering near yours, “Can’t you tell?” His voice is quiet and composed, “I won’t be easily satisfied tonight...” His grip on your chin tightens further with a pressured squeeze, “So, are you going to help me calm down?”
Driving his anger further—on purpose, “I thought I already did, hm?”
He huffs, nearly smirking, “Not even close.” After speaking, he lets you go, and without warning, he drops to his knees in front of you, his fingers hooking into both your pants and panties simultaneously, “Let’s take a look, though, to see how far you got, shall we?”
***
Having stripped one another in a tumble down the hall, you’re both completely bare in your bed. He’s staked his claim by mounting you, trapping you with his weight, his cock its full extent inside you. You’re beyond breathless, flushed and panting, “Xavier—”
After all this time, his voice is still composed despite the juxtaposing sound of skin on skin smacking together with each jealousy fueled thrust into your already filled once cunt, “Go on, tell me.”
Each time the head of his cock slams against your G-spot, your eyes flutter, “O-oh my god—”
Full of a lustful grit, “Tell me, Star.”
Your sharp nails bite into the skin of his shoulders and he hardly reacts, perhaps only a slight clench of his jaw, “S-shit—!”
“Me?” Suddenly, his hips work faster, “Or Lumiere?”
“F-fuck—y-you’re s-so—nngh!”
“The longer you don’t answer—” the slapping of skin only gets louder, and you’re well aware that the bottoms of your thighs and the low curve of your ass just have to be turning a bright red, “the harder I’ll go.” His words are an ensured—enticing—threat.
This is a threat he keeps—and keeps quickly—when you fail in your confirmation being fast enough for his liking. “Ah! Hah, nngh! Y-you—you!”
He shakes his head lightly, his voice hoarse—but the torque of his hips doesn’t slow…not one bit, “I don’t—mm—believe you.”
“You, y-you—ngh—I swear—!” It doesn’t matter what you say, each thrust is harder and faster—more vicious…more lewd into your already spent and dripping cunt, “S-shit!”
“Say it.” Without the ability to process anything beyond the feeling of his cock stretching and pounding you into a dazed state, one of his hands leaves the space beside your head, moving to meticulously peel one of your legs off from around his waist.
“F-fuck, fuck! Oh m-my—!”
His voice is almost vitriolic, a level of commanding you’re not quite sure you’ve heard from him before, “Say. It.” Dizzy, eyes rolling, you also can’t process him taking the same steps with your opposite leg, “Say my name.”
You gasp loudly when he forcefully pins your knees beside your head, working your hamstrings to their full ability, continuing to slam shamelessly into your cunt—claiming it, “Ah! F-fuck, X-Xavier—!”
With his palms pressed against the back of your knees, his fingers squeeze tighter against your skin, “Good. Again.”
“Xavier—p-please—!” You mewl, drooling once you feel the head of his cock tap your cervix as a result of the new angle, a mix of pleasure and pain shooting through each inch of you—from each inch of him, “Ah! Mmph!”
Completely untempered, his voice near a growl, “More.” Gasping, you struggle to take in the appearance of his furrowed brows, jaw slack and panting as he drives into you with all the force he can muster.
“Xav—f-fuck! Right t-there, right—oh m-my—m’gonna cum—!”
With intentional gravel in his tone, “Good.” His hands tighten their grip yet again, a vice reminding you that there’s nowhere to go but here, “Scream my name when you cum for me.”
“X-Xav—Xavier—! H-holy fuck—mmph!” When you release an utterly desperate, erotic shriek, his name falling from your lips over and over—and over again—he finally cracks the smallest grin. Said grin is devilish—proud. However, he can’t hold the expression long—the sight of you is just too damn pretty not to groan to.
Not even close to recovered, your walls still convulsing around his length, he still doesn’t let up, “W-wait—mmm—f-fucking h-hell‚ Xav! Slow d-down—mm!”
“No.”
“Xav! Ngh!”
Between wicked, powerful thrusts, “I want...you...to cum...again.”
“Oh my god—fuck, fuck, f-fuck—!”
That same small smile returns, “I want all your attention on me.” When your hands try to grab at anything—his shoulders, his neck, his arms—he’s certain to shake you off with a slight jostle of his body, his hands still holding you exactly where he wants you...spread, exposed, and taking him completely, “Look at me, Star.”
The sand was too hot and the sun was too bright and you had been telling yourself for the past ten minutes that was why you were irritated. Completely reasonable things to be annoyed by. Nothing to do with the group of women who hadn't moved in twenty minutes.
Every time Xavier went up for the spike —shoulders rolling back, arms coming over, the full length of him extending into the air— you'd heard it. The collective intake of breath from the small crowd gathered. Women who had started watching casually and then stayed, cups in hand, not even pretending anymore.
You'd watched them watching him. Broad shoulders, sculpted chest, abs glistening with a light sheen of sweat, and those low slung shorts, he looked like a walking sun god.
You were NOT a jealous partner. He'd always been the one simmering quietly over a look someone gave you, a hand that lingered too long on your arm, and you'd always been the one teasing him for it.
Today it had flipped, and he knew it.
You'd caught him looking at you between serves. Reading your face, tracking where your eyes had gone, what they'd found and what they were doing with it. And the blue of his irises had changed to something that looked a lot like want.
When the final point landed you didn't discuss going back to your suite. You grabbed his wrist before he could reach for a towel and pulled him. The hidden stretch of shore you'd found yesterday was a ten minute walk down the beach, tucked behind a curve of dark rock that blocked it completely from view. You'd spent an hour there yesterday, doing nothing, just lying in the quiet. You had different plans for it today.
He hadn't caught his breath yet. His chest was still working, sweat at his sternum, hair damp at his temples, a silver whistle swaying on its cord as you turned to face him.
You pushed him down and he let you, dropping back onto the sand without argument. From the ground he tracked your face with half lidded blue eyes. Patient, the way he always got when he'd decided to let you lead.
You stepped over him and settled across his thighs, your knees pressing into the sand on either side of him.
"You had a lot of fun out there"
His hands came to your waist immediately and his thumbs pressed into the dip of your hips. "I always have fun when I'm with you."
"That's not what I mean."
His mouth curved slightly at the edge.
"Liar." you reached down and hooked one finger around the cord of the whistle, pulling him up slightly by it, bringing his face close to yours. "Every girl was watching you. Every single one" You tried to keep your voice even. "Looking at everything that belongs to me."
His hands tightened on your waist.
Beneath your thigh, through the thin fabric of his shorts, you felt him respond —an involuntary pressure, his hips moving slightly under you before he caught himself.
The blue of his eyes had gone several shades darker. His bottom lip was slightly parted.
"And you loved it"
He opened his mouth.
You reached down and pulled the front of his shorts down before he could say anything. When you freed him he was already hard, warm and heavy against his stomach, a bead of moisture at the tip calling for your mouth. The sea breeze moved over him and he exhaled through his nose.
"They watched you the whole game," you whispered, fingers wrapping around him"Every serve. Every jump." A slow stroke, barely anything, enough to make his cock jump in your hand "But they didn't see this. Only I get to see this."
His stomach contracted.
You picked up the whistle and pressed the mouthpiece gently between his teeth. His eyes widened slightly and he tried to say something —the soft instinctive murmur he defaulted to— but it came out muffled, cut off by the metal.
"No." You held his gaze.
He bit down lightly on the mouthpiece.
You reached down, pulled the strings of your bikini bottoms loose at each hip, and tossed the fabric into the sand.
"Blow that whistle when you want to cum, handsome"
His eyes dropped and then came back up to your face when you lined your wet pussy directly over the tip of his cock.
You sank all the way down and his back left the sand, just the upper half, shoulders rising off the ground, abs contracting hard. The sound he made into the whistle came out broken and half formed, more breath than anything.
You waited. Stayed still and let him feel it, let the moment sit, watching his throat work as he swallowed.
Then you started to move.
Rising until he was barely inside you and dropping back down in one smooth roll of your hips, your hands braced lightly on his chest. He exhaled in a rush through his nose. His knuckles had gone white where he was gripping you.
"Everyone out there thinks you're so cute," you found rhythm and stayed in it. "So quiet and sweet." a tight circle of your hips made him twitch underneath you, a full body response, his jaw clamping hard on the mouthpiece. "They have no idea what you're actually like."
His hips rose to meet yours. Trying to take more, to push the pace. You let him have it for a moment and then pulled back, slowed down and made him wait.
He groaned into the whistle.
"Is this what it feels like?" you continued, dropping down onto him again and grinding slow, feeling every inch of the stretch. You leaned forward, hands moving from his chest to the sand on either side of his head, bringing your face closer to his. "You liked watching me get jealous?"
His eyes closed briefly.
You sat back up and picked up the pace.
The sound of the waves covered every sound. The wet slap of skin against skin. His abs locked under you every time you came down, holding himself back, and the sounds coming through the whistle were small, bitten off exhales that got away from him.
His hands slid from your hips down to grip the back of your thighs, pulling you in harder, closer, his own hips working up to match yours. His eyes were fixed on your face, blue and blown wide open.
You felt when he got close. His breathing changed, shallower and faster, his whole body starting to pull tight. He tried to hold onto the rhythm but it was slipping, hips stuttering, back beginning to arch again.
He tried to blow the whistle.
What came out was a breathless, thoroughly defeated little sound. A whisper of air through metal that died out almost immediately, collapsing under the weight of a chest that was heaving too hard to sustain it.
You stopped your hips completely and he made a desperate sound.
You reached up and wrapped your fingers around the cord at his neck, pulling him up toward you again until his chest met yours, his face right there, close enough to feel the heat pouring off his skin.
"You can't even blow it," you mocked him softly, right against his jaw. "All that out there. All those serves, all that diving around in the sun, putting on a show." You let the pause sit. "And you can't manage a clear whistle?"
His face, up close, was completely wrecked.
"Blow it properly," you ordered. "If you manage to blow it loud and clear... I'll let you cum."
Xavier’s eyes widened in determination. He gripped your hips hard, taking a deep breath to steady his racing heart and shaky lungs.
He blew.
The note came out loud, one long sustained sound that scattered into the sea air, clear and steady from start to finish.
You dropped your hips down hard and didn't stop.
A long and terribly warm moan tore from his throat, muffled against your skin, while his large hands fisted hard into your ass—holding you tightly pinned down.
The whistle slipped loosely from his lips as his breathing fell apart into trembling gasps. Sweat poured down his spine, his abs twitching helplessly beneath you with every surge of hot release filling your pussy.
He dropped back onto the sand and took you with him, one arm locked around your waist. You lay there with the sound of the ocean and his heartbeat gradually slowing under you.
"They were watching you too," he said quietly, after a while.
You looked up at him.
He was already looking back. Completely serious. "Just so we're even."
Warnings: smut, weddings, a singular turtle... the fic really isn't that deep. there's not much to go into. it's a LOT of fluff. Caleb gets brothered. there's something going on with Zayne and reader but we don't get into it. there's also something going on between snowapple, we sorta get into that, but not really.
MDNI
WC: like almost 6k. this got way past me and i was only planning on making it like 3k but we see where that went.
Credit to @calebsfavoriteusedthong for putting me into a Xavier mood to begin with, with their Xavier accidental. its great. I'm not usually a Xavier enjoyer, but here I am so if that tells you how great she is ...
side note, I made a new lads blog so that I can keep everything coagulated... follow @https-snowfish because I'll be posting all of my lads stuff on there from now on.
(comments, asks, kudos, reblogs are all MORE than appreciated. but please dont reupload or feed my work into ai.)
<3 love you much
It started on a weekend in May. Xavier watches as you walked down the grassy path, your pale blue sundress billowing in the wind.
“You know that you look beautiful today, right?” He extended his left hand to you, helping you down the steps and onto the dock.
Xavier leads as you both walk slowly down the length of the wooden dock. Before sitting on the towel he had set out at the end. Taking off your sandals and dangling your feet in the warm river water.
You softly smile at him, placing your hand over his as you both look into the water. He points at a turtle across the bank, and you’re too busy trying to figure out what kind of turtle it is to notice him reaching into his pocket.
You shout, “Oh my god I think it’s an ornate box turtle!”
He laughs, and you slowly turn your head toward him, keeping your eyes on the turtle as long as you can.
He strokes your cheek, and your eyes are drawn to his.
Except he’s not sitting anymore… he’s on one knee.
“Oh. OH! Xavier, oh my god.” You say, pulling your feet out of the water, and shifting so you’re on your knees in front of him. Eye level.
But he’s not speaking. Just looking at you. You look back. Smiling. Waiting.
“…starlight.” He says. His voice is rough and feels breathless as you sit in front of him.
You move your hands to his wrists. Holding his shaky hands as he holds the ring box.
“Starlight. I love you. I have loved you every day for a millennia, and I will love you every day on. I have loved you since the moment we met. And I’ve grown to only love you more over these past couple of years. I don’t… I know you don’t take marriage lightly. You’ve told me this. But, my light… will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He looks into your eyes, and you can see the tears slightly welling in his.
Caressing his face, you lean in to kiss him softly. Your own tears streaking down your face silently.
“Is that a yes?” He shakily asks when you release him from the kiss.
“Oh my god! Yes! Yes Xavier! Of course it’s a yes!” You rush through the words, kissing him again.
He puts the ring box on the pier, moving forwards to deepen the kiss.
“Yes?” He asks, “Yes, you want to marry me? You want to be my wife?” he plants kisses all over your face.
“Oh my god, Xav!” You giggle. “Yes! Yes, I want to be your wife!”
He exhales for what feels like the first time since he woke up this morning, and he leans forward to connect your lips again.
there's no description for this kiss besides hungry. he's hungry.
You laugh as you push at his shoulders. "Not here, firefly."
After 15 months of stress and arguments with flower vendors because they didn't know what cosmos were, the day had finally come.
The air was warm. The sun just beginning to rise as you sat in the car with Tara and Simone.
"Well, personally I think this is a very brave decision!" Simone says from the backseat, "though I wouldn't want to be you when you have to tell HR that you married our coworker."
You laugh softly, twirling the diamond ring around your finger. "Everyone keeps asking me if I'm sure. If I'm ready to be locked down forever," you hesitate, looking out of the passenger window at the slowly lightening sky, "but it doesn't feel like that. I've never been more ready. I don't feel like I'm being locked down. I love him more than my heart allows. There's nothing in my life I've ever felt this ready for"
Tara playfully swoons in her seat, the back of her hand against her forehead as she falls back against the headrest. She keeps one eye open, watching the road.
"Yeah yeah, laugh all you want. It's my wedding day, I've earned the right to be a sap. If you had to deal with those fucking caterers, you would also be grateful for the day to finally be here. " I'm just glad I never have to arrange another mass gathering like this again." You smile as you speak.
"Uhh, what about that second wedding you need to plan for me and your doctor?" Simone says, playfully indignant.
"Girl, Zayne is a man on a mission. " If you want his number, you're going to actually have to speak to him, you know."
"I still think it's kind of weird you invited your doctor to your wedding," Tara pipes in before Simone slaps the back of her head, rubbing her hand when it collides with the sponge curlers in Tara's short hair.
"Have you seen that man!? I would invite him to my grandmother's funeral just so I could look at him too!" Simone all but shouts.
You turn abruptly in your seat, looking at her sitting in the back with that shit eating grin. "Ma'am!" you laugh. "We are not thirsting over my doctor! especially not today, of all days!"
She throws her hands up in the air, defeated. "Fine! But I make no promises tonight. If he's at the reception, I will be making a move."
You laugh at her but nod, agreeingly, as Tara pulls up to the venue.
In hindsight, maybe you should have hired a wedding planner. It was nearly two thirty, and the guests had just begun arriving. Mostly just the wedding party to help set up. The ceremony wasn't until four.
The makeup artist sat in front of you, explaining why they were going to wait until the last minute to do your mascara.
Tara pipes up from across the room, "Oh, she's definitely going to cry it all off before she even walks down that aisle!"
You flip her off, smiling because she's right.
Simone walks to you, her dark blue silk robe contrasting against her skin. She hands you a mimosa, and Tara's right, crying is the only option. Everyone freezes when you break out in sobs.
"I just love you guys so much! Thank you for spending this day with me." You sob hysterically. The makeup artist rubs your back as she works to minimize the tears by what feels like pressing a tissue directly into your eyeballs.
"No, honey, don't cry. This is a happy day! You're going to marry the love of your life! And you're going to be surrounded by your friends!" Simone looks at Tara before she continues, "And- and your family! Right? Caleb's coming?"
You nod at the reminder. You had asked your brother to come. You had hoped he would be here to walk you down the aisle.
When he arrived early last night, you and Xavier had gone to the airport to pick him up. And when the three of you had gotten back to your apartment, Caleb had quickly kicked Xavier out. "Can't see the bride the night before, Xavie!" He had said. With the smirk that only a big brother could carry.
So yes, you were glad he was going to be here. It had been a while since he had come home from Skyhaven. Now that he's off for your wedding, you're glad he's back.
"It's just… I've never really had a lot of close friends, and I'm really happy that you guys are here," you sniffle.
"Hey, hey, sunshine, no crying," Tara says, approaching you with her arms out. You fall into the hug, and the hairstylist in the other corner makes a noise in her throat when Tara strokes your hair.
A knock at the door brings you out of your self-pity, and Simone is quick to say loudly, "If something needs done, please go ask Caleb! he is in charge of handling pre-wedding preparations!" She walks to the door, opening it and standing in the doorway, blocking your view. Xavier stands at the other side, panting. She asks, "Did you run down here?"
He nods as he tries to get a look around her, standing on his tiptoes to try to find you in the room. "Yes. Can I see my fiancée, please? I heard her crying. " What's wrong?"
"Nothing, you big sweet man," Tara says, her arms still around you. "She's crying because Simone and I are good friends. " You're not supposed to see the bride for another hour and a half"
Xavier pushes into the room, and he stops in front of you. Kneels, really. "You look beautiful, my star. Can you tell me what's wrong? Why is my beautiful bride crying?"
Tara and the makeup artist retreat, giving you room to look down at him between your legs.
He rubs the ends of the white silk robe that rests against your mid-thigh, in between his thumb and forefinger. "I didn't want to break the wedding rules. It's bad luck to see the bride before I walk down the aisle. I'm sorry I made you come down here. There's just… a lot of emotions, I guess? I wasn't crying because I was upset. I was crying because I'm really grateful for Tara and Simone. They just… didn't have to be here today, and they woke up with me at 4 am to watch the sunrise on my wedding day. I just… I've never really had a family. or sisters. And I'm just really happy that I get to have them here today," you say, fighting the tears in your eyes.
"Starlight," he whispers, "my love. You didn't make me do anything. I chose to come down to the bridal suite to find you. And who needs the wedding rules anyway? We don't need luck. But you are right, Tara and Simone are great friends. Isaiah and Jeremiah are currently fighting over the shrimp platter in the groom's suite. So it could definitely be worse," he smiles. "Are you going to be okay?"
The hairstylist quietly squeezes behind you to plug in a curling iron.
"Yeah. yeah im gonna be okay. Just… big day, a lot of emotions." You shake your hands out, and a quiet giggle emerges from somewhere in the room.
His palms rub your thighs under your robe, and when he finds the satin of your garter, he glows a little bit. The noise vibrates through your chest before you realize you're giggling.
Tara checks her watch, saying loudly, "Alright, lovebirds! Ten minutes is up! We need to continue getting ready!" She and Simone usher Xavier out of the door, and they turn to you with matching playfully exhausted expressions.
The double doors swing wide, and you're escorted onto a stone path leading to the altar.
"You know," Caleb whispers into your ear as he walks you down the aisle, "it's not too late to run"
Shoving him into the bush next to him would be the kindest thing you could do for that comment.
"I'm not running from my wedding, 'leb," you say under your breath. "I want to marry Xavier, and you know this. He's good for me. I love him."
"but hes not Zayne," Caleb says. And when you shoot him a dirty glance, he's suddenly not looking at you.
"Caleb. Not today," you warn. but hes ignoring you in favor of preparing the walk down the part of the aisle that's actually surrounded by guests.
Jeremiah escorts Tara to her seat before he takes his, and suddenly the entire aisle is clear. Your view is unobstructed. The 25 people with their eyes trained on you no longer matter. Nothing matters. Xavier stands at the altar frozen still. You mourn every interaction you've ever had with any other man when you see something in his chest shatter, and hear him let out a sob. He looks surprised by the fact that he is crying. You're not. You knew this would happen.
The wedding march begins, and you and Caleb take the first step toward the altar. He stays quiet, but you can feel Zayne's eyes on you from the fourth row back. You know Caleb is right. Xavier isn't Zayne. And that's part of why you love him. you loved both of them. But this isn't the discussion to be having with yourself as you walk down the aisle, you decide.
You reach the end, Caleb hands Xavier your hand before kissing you softly on the head and walking to sit down next to Simone.
"Hi," you say, your veil catching in the wind and sticking to your lip gloss. Xavier laughs and tries his best to hold the bottom of it away from your mouth.
The officiant stands next to you, her smile wide as she says to the crowd, "You may be seated. Today we are here to celebrate the love between your friends, your family, your loved ones. But the couple that stands here today is a testament to the love we all share. Marriage is a beautiful thing when it is shared between those who are certain of each other, and those who can love each other through every hardship imaginable. Marriage is beyond just a title, it is a partnership. A declaration to always be by each other's sides."
She steps back as she says, "And I believe the couple have readings prepared before they make their vows?"
You nod, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before you look directly at Xavier. His face still tear-stained. Your palm finds his cheek, wiping a stray tear before you begin to speak. Reading from memory, the poem you chose in lieu of a bible verse reading, "I didn’t fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we’d choose anyway. And I’d choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I’d find you and I’d choose you. - the chaos of star, by kierstin white"
The officiant instructs Xavier to read his, and he pulls a note from his pocket. he whispers quietly, "I memorized it, but I want to make sure I get it right." There's a tremble to his hands as he reads, "I will love you forever; whatever happens. Till I die and after I die, and when I find my way out of the land of the dead, I’ll drift about forever, all my atoms, till I find you again. I’ll be looking for you, every moment, every single moment. And when we do find each other again, we’ll cling together so tight that nothing and no one’ll ever tear us apart. Every atom of me and every atom of you. We’ll live in birds and flowers and dragonflies and pine trees and in clouds and in those little specks of light you see floating in sunbeams. And when they use our atoms to make new lives, they won’t just be able to take one, they’ll have to take two, one of you and one of me - the amber spyglass by phyllip pullman." He didn't glance down at the paper once while he was reading it. There are tears streaming down both of your faces. And when you look back on this moment in 5 years, neither of you will care.
You can't stop staring into his eyes, and you blank out for a minute before you realize you're going to have to ask him to reread his vows to you later because you didn't catch a single word.
The officiant says softly, "Do you take him to be your lawfully wedded husband?" You nod through a sob. She turns to Xavier, "Do you take her to be your-"
"Yes. very much so, yes," he interrupts with a small smile and a giggle that could thaw liquid nitrogen.
"Then I now pronounce you husband and wife. Xavier, you may kiss the bride," she says as she steps out of view. You make a note to self to thank her later for remembering to move so that she wasn't in your wedding photos for your first kiss.
He fights with your veil for a second, and you both giggle. Unclipping the barrette where it holds the veil onto your head, he lets the sheer fabric float away in the wind. wasting no time before he's grabbing the back of your head, dipping you low, and kissing you so deeply that your entire world spins.
the reception is a mix of pure chaos and unbridled love.
You'd already changed out of your main ceremony gown, into a dress that allows for more movement.
Caleb is caught two hours in, grinding against Simone and Zayne on the dance floor. The sight of the three of them together will forever be burned into your memories.
Everyone is at least three drinks in by the time they call time for the garter toss. Caleb picks you up around the waist and sets you down on a chair in the middle of the dance floor. You can't help but giggle at your brother's antics as he sways back to his spot, his drink (which you're pretty sure is actually Sprite and Zayne is just telling him that it's a vodka seltzer) sits protectively in Zayne's grip. The sight is actually calming. At least someone is taking care of him tonight.
Xavier, now with the top three buttons of his shirt undone, more than half drunk, runs before falling to his knees and sliding up to your chair. You laugh, covering your mouth as he looks up at you. His hands fall to your knees, pushing them open so fast you have no choice but to move with the motion of your legs, leaning into him a little bit.
"Watch it, firefly," you say against his ear, but he just hums and leans in to kiss you. Admittedly, you do get carried away in the kiss, but you split apart when your drunk ears catch onto the whooping around you. Mostly Caleb. Who… is now sitting in Zayne's lap, you note.
Xavier pulls back, and you recognize the look in his eyes when he pulls the hem of your dress up. Suddenly, this was not a good idea as you look up and make direct eye contact with Isaiah. Xavier shimmies his drunk ass under your dress, and you try to maintain a poker face through the shouts and the wolf whistles (namely your coworker Valko, egging Caleb's shouts on). Xavier whispers something against your thigh before being a total douche and kissing the center of your panties. You feel your face flush immediately. Isaiah will not stop making eye contact with you. Xavier moves from your center, biting your thigh and roughly grabbing the satin in his teeth before he's not taking it down your leg in one piece, but literally ripping it off of your thigh with his teeth.
he resurfaces from under your dress with the torn garter in his teeth and the room erupts in cheers. He cheekily tosses it towards Jeremiah before standing and offering you a hand. "Cake, my starlight?"
This motherfucker.
You walk hand in hand to the dessert table, Simone quickly whispering in a sing song voice directly into your ear when she passes the two of you, "You are in for a nighttttt." You swat at her and turn back to Xavier, prepared to help him cut the cake.
You get the knife to the bottom of the cake, and Xavier insists on feeding you a bite. You knew this cake was going to be good. That's why you spent three weeks at different bakeries taste testing. There was no doubt that it would be good. But you're silently congratulating yourself when the cake really is just THAT good.
You look to Xavier for confirmation, but he's just watching you. When you arch an eyebrow to ask why he didn't try any, he lunges forward, kissing into your mouth like a man starved.
" 's really good," he says when he pulls back.
Caleb is never going to let you live this night down. But frankly… fuck him. It's your wedding night, and you're allowed to be drunk and horny for your husband.
HUSBAND. Fuck, you love that word. You lean in after swallowing the last bit of cake you had, grabbing Xavier by the back of the hair and forcing his lips to yours. The crowd is forgotten as you two lose yourselves in the kiss. His tongue meets yours in the middle, and you feel him moan before you hear Isaiah gag.
Xavier pulls away, his lips shiny with your lip gloss that you have to keep repeatedly applying.
"I love you," he says. "My wife"
You immediately turn to Tara and ask what time the send-off is.
The plane lands in a different country. majority of the passengers asleep. It was late. about 4 in the morning. but there was no universe in which you were tired. The alcohol had long worn off, and the charged energy between you and Xavier had kept you awake for the entire four-hour flight.
you had barely been able to keep your hands off of eachother the whole drive to the airport. Admittedly, if it wouldn't have made you late for your flight, you would have made the driver pull the car over the second you got out of hearing range from the venue.
"Mr. and Mrs. Shen," Xavier tells the car rental attendant after making your way through the airport. You note that he's glowing when he says this. Well… that's not fully true. He's been glowing all day. He's just gotten brighter the last hour and a half.
The tired man behind the counter gives Xavier the keys, and he teleports both of you into the car.
The laugh that bubbles up out of your throat is nearly inhuman.
"starlight dont laugh. " I'm not being cockblocked by time," he says, buckling your seatbelt for you before reversing the car out of the parking lot and driving straight to the hotel.
you anxiously shift in your seat while he drives. His hand on your upper thigh, rubbing soft circles against your wedding dress that you didn't bother to change out of.
In hindsight, it might not have been the greatest idea to schedule your wedding around your ovulation cycle. you were dripping into the seat below you. And Xavier was absolutely going to have to pay the $100 fee to get the seats shampooed if he ever found out.
So you sat relatively still. Careful to keep your eyes on the road in front of you the entire time and not on his hand. His hand currently grazing your thigh. His hands that, if you did look down, you would be able to see every vein within. the hands that have brought you orgasm after orgasm. The fingers that- fuck, you needed help.
His skin softly illuminated the car's interior. Bright enough that you think if he looked at you right now, he would be able to tell just how gone you were already.
The car pulled up to the hotel valet, and Xavier was quick to hand the small man the rental keys. The man grabbed your suitcases out of the trunk and handed them to another man in a suit waiting by the entrance.
Your husband tells the man that you two will be in the honeymoon suite, tipping him what you're assuming is a very large amount, based on the speed in which the man moves to drop your suitcases off at the penthouse.
Xavier then approaches the woman at the front desk, quickly but politely telling her that he had the honeymoon suite booked. She congratulates the two of you, handing you the key cards, and before she can say another word, he is thanking her and ushering you into the elevator.
Before the doors even close, his lips are on yours. His tongue teasing at the seam of your lips almost immediately. you feel your back hit the mirrored wall and your legs instinctively wrap around his hips when he hauls you up to sit on the shiny bronze railing.
"My. Wife. Fuck you have no idea how long I've waited to call you that," he says against your lips. Barely breathing as he delves deeper into the kiss. "If this goddamn elevator goes any slower, I'm going to have to make love to you right here"
You giggle at his choice of words. "Firefly, you can't say 'goddamn' and 'make love' in the same sentence."
"Yeah? Watch me." And he's kissing you deeper, sliding your left leg up to wrap higher around his waist. "Look at me." he pulls away. "Tonight, I'm going to make love to my wife. because she deserves to be treasured. because she deserves to feel like her husband loves her. because he does"
Your hand tangles in the back of his hair, his hand shoving the slit in your dress up to your waist. the elevator opens.
You both make eye contact with the teenage girl standing in the hallways. fast to grab Xavier's hand and pull yourself off of the banister, the girl gets in before realizing that you're going up and she's going down. apologizing and stepping back out. The door closes, and you both break into hysterical laughter.
you manage to contain yourselves for the 30 seconds that it takes to reach the penthouse.
You're in Xavier's arms before you even realize you've left the ground. Kissing you sweetly, he has you tap the keycard, and he carries you over the threshold. pressing the door closed with his back. he sets you down on the plush carpet. Your heels dig into your feet, and he's fast to swoop you back up. He walks a few steps before stopping to ask if you want a bath.
Giggling softly, you say, "I'll have a shower in a few hours"
He fights the smile as he sets you down softly against the bed.
He's gentle in unbuckling your white loubatiouns, setting them softly next to your suitcase. he stands you up slowly, unzipping your dress like he's unwrapping a present. not like a child tearing the wrapping paper. like an adult, cherishing the time it took to wrap such a gift.
His fingers trail down your spine when he gets your dress unzipped. The feeling sends chills through your body.
He's careful when he carresses the newly exposed skin on your shoulders, kissing the nape of your neck softly. His fingers are tender when they push the sleeves of your dress off of your shoulders and down your arms.
He takes his time undressing you. Like this moment means the world to him. Like you mean the world to him.
He kisses the dip in your shoulder when it's exposed. You allow the gown to fall to the floor, and his breath hitches at the sight of the wedding lingerie you had bought just for this night.
you busy your hands with trying to undress him. his buttons. his tie. his belt. he moans when you unbutton his slacks.
Pushing his shirt off of his arms, you run your fingers down the length of each arm. It wouldn't be the first time you've had sex. far from it actually. But this… this is different. This is adoration. He could be in a church, and you would mistake him for the religious figure. He's wholly perfect in this moment. And he loves you, and you love him.
he guides you down onto the soft bed. Your back hits the comforter, and all is right in the world. Softly caressing his face as he looks up at you with the only apt descriptor being yearning.
His kisses warm you as his lips caress every inch of uncovered skin.
The ache between your thighs grows heavier as he moves to your neck. Kissing the spot that makes you clench around an emptiness. His hands come to hold your waist, and he says with watery eyes, "Thank you for making me the luckiest man in the world."
You sit up on your elbows, meeting his lips as you speak in not-so-subtle terms, "Xavier, take off your pants"
"Pushy, damn!" he laughs into the kiss, but obliges you. The feeling of his white satin boxers against your inner thigh has you gasping into his never-ending kisses.
he pushes you back down, and grinds himself against your panties. You finally break the kiss, gasping and grabbing onto his shoulders. "Oh holy fuck." you say. now you're pretty sure his boxers are still on, but that doesn't explain why it feels like he's rubbing your clit directly.
His cock catches on your wet panties again, and he laughs when you squeeze your eyes shut at the overwhelming feeling. "Sensitive?" he says through a laugh.
Your hands fly to your hips, scrambling to get the offending fabric off. "Where's your Herculean strength now? You rip my garter off earlier with your teeth, but you won't rip my panties off now?" you whine, successfully pulling them down enough for him to pull them off the rest of your legs.
"Okay, one, I was wasted. Two, that doctor of yours was staring at you like he wanted to eat you. And three, I kissed her for penance!" he throws your legs over his hips before actually deciding to fully pull off his boxers as well.
Your bra seems to be offending him. he keeps making pissy little faces at it.
"Oh my god, Xavier, take the bra off then. Is it in your way?" bitchy because you're overwhelmed, he kisses you softly. Securing his hands to your sides before slightly pulling away.
"My love. You're not mad at me. You're tired. You've been up for 26 hours. And you're horny. Don't fuckin - shh- don't try to argue with me. I know you're horny, I can feel it. do you want to have sex tonight or not? because it's okay if you want to go to bed." God, you couldn't deny that he was right.
"Not too tired. But if you keep taking forever to put your cock in me, I'm going to end up on one of those 24 hour bride shows where they kill their husband on their wedding night." Okay, maybe you were a little tired. But you're having this. "…please, Xavier."
"And you're sure?" You take a deep breath and look at him with daggers in your eyes.
"Xavier, I swear to fucking god if you don't put your cock in me right now, I'm going to commit mariticide." his laugh shouldn't be that addictive when you're actively threatening to kill him.
He taps his tip against your clit, and suddenly you're not a bull charging for the matador anymore.
"Better, sunshine?" he says, lining himself with your entrance and slowly pushing in. The stretch has your back coming off of the mattress as you attempt to force him deeper.
"Yes. … thank you. " I'm sorry I was mean to you." You reach behind yourself and unhook your bra, not caring where it goes when you toss it over your husband's shoulder. HUSBAND. oh fuck.
He seems to catch your thought mid think, because he collapses into your shoulder with a thrust and a whine. "Oh fuck. I'm so so sorry."
You can't control the giggle that comes out of your throat as you lean up to tease, "Oh, am I that good? What a fun story this will be to tell the grandchildren." You feel him pulse inside of you again. "Really? Over grandchildren? You're insane." but theres no mirth to your voice.
You lean up on your elbows to kiss him, his tip moves within you, touching your cervix. You both moan at the sensation as he pulls out only halfway. "Do you need a minute?" you ask softly. attitude partially fixed. Enough for your husband to drink some water and take a minute to regain his stamina.
"no? no. Sorry, I just… the white. You took the bra off, and I couldn't help it. can't fucking believe you're my wife. my fucking WIFE." he punctuates the word wife with a thrust directly into the side of your cervix. Okay, so he did hear your thought, cool!
"fuck xav. more. please." You're not above begging. what does this look like?
He presses down on your lower stomach, and the kisses he's giving you can really hardly be called that. all open mouthed, and mostly tongue. every thrust he makes is deep. total. he folds your right leg to meet your shoulder, and you feel his previous release leak out around his cock.
it's obscene.
It's hot.
The knowledge of him just pumping it deeper into you has your brain going fuzzy.
You grab his head, pulling it down into your own as you begin to rock your hips in time with his. You're clenching around his with every thrust in, and suctioning him further in when he tries to thrust out. the friction is wholly consuming. you feel like your entire body is going to implode.
"That's a good girl. God, you're so fucking tight for me. gonna- fuck- gonna cum on your husband?" his voice has dropped half an octave, and the bass rattles through your chest.
you throw your head forward, watching with every gulped breath how he disappears into you. nodding, you tell him. "Yes. yes, fuck, make your wife cum, Xavier."
His entire body shutters at the name. the headboard slams against the wall when he begins fucking you in earnest. His hand falls between your bodies, slowly sliding his frothy cum up to soak your clit before he begins rubbing slow, teasing circles against it.
he only does that for a moment, sensing your attitude return. your lips meet, and the precision of his hand on your clit increases tenfold. you don't even have time to warn him before your back is arching off of the bed.
When your walls tighten around him, he collapses forward into you. "Oh fuck. Just like that, love. Yeah, I'm gonna cum. Is it okay? Can I cum for you? gonna let your husband- oh shit- gonna let your husband cum inside you?"
your brain is gone, but even if it was there… come on, be honest, you would have said yes anyways. ovulation be damned.
he thrusts once, twice, before he's burying himself to the hilt and biting down on your collarbone to muffle his release. The entire room is illuminated solely by the man releasing inside of you, and you can't help but stroke his hair as he catches his breath. not pulling out.
leave it to me to make writing sound like it’s something that bothers me. Not like it’s something I do for FUN or anything. Anywayssss… Xavier fluff thing coming tomorrow. Probably. Tomorrow night ish.
Making out with Xavier and it leads to him having you bounce on his fingers which leads to him having you bounce on his cock which leads to a cream pie that he then eats out of you yeah yeah yeah yeah
One: Xavier had navigated the constellation of your kiss thousands of times before. Even so, every voyage guided by the siren’s call of your moans led him to a new discovery each time. Whether his movements were slow and lazy, or instinctual and rough - something made you react in ways most pleasurable. That particular evening, it had been his nails scampering down the valley of your back. Beneath him you had been arched, lips spread wide as his tongue buffed along the edges of yours. Xavier was thorough, sometimes even devilish with his advances. But every move was calculated. Even on the brink of maddening ecstasy, he rushed with elegance.
Two: True to his nature, Xavier enjoyed heated sessions beneath the stars. What would often start with a blanket and a basket of drinks paired with snacks would lead to the swordsman inching closer and closer to you. Sat side-by-side, his knee would be propped up, opposite ankle shoved below. With an extended arm he’d point to the stars, pinpointing galaxies, planets, and satellites. Although your relationship wasn’t fresh, you’d smile at his flirtation tactic. Because in order to show you exactly where he was pointing, he’d line his cheek up next to yours.
Your heart would pound just as it did the first time he implemented his technique.
Sky-blue eyes would capture yours, the moment suspended by a couple of breaths, before he shoulder slumped against yours, and he’d kiss you.
Three: Xavier was the poster-child for cuteness aggression. To him, it was a two-way street. You provoked his need to bite you, or so he had proclaimed. Sometimes, it was after a playful competition during a videogame. He’d huff, pout, then lean over to chomp on your upper cheek, without a single warning. In return, you might grab his hand, and nibble on the tip of his finger. Other times, it was completely random. You might be stepping out of the shower, or joining for that matter, when he’d graze your shoulder with his teeth, occasionally applying suction to leave a mark. He was relentless, always finding a reason to have his mouth on your body.
Four: Patience was Xavier’s virtue when it came to lapping between your legs. Skilled with his lips, tongue, and teeth, he’d ease you into it. One hand would grip below your knee, strewing your leg over his shoulder or a piece of furniture. The other would spread you with a forefinger and thumb, greedy eyes tracking the crevice of your cunt. Often, he’d stare up at you before delving in, doe-eyes relaying his intentions with innocence, tongue sailing over his bottom lip.
Depending where he started, he’d stamp kisses from ankle to thigh, or below your bellow button, along the line of your waist. If you were straddling his jaw, he’d kiss your clit, small pecks to initiate. His eyes would close, a moan vibrating against your sensitive flesh.
“Just like that, starlight,” he’d encourage, voice gentle, only splintered by his timbre at the end. “Come on my tongue.”
He’d swallow every drop that would swell from you, utilizing the flat of his tongue to clean his mess.
Five: He often tried to burn the house down. Or that’s what you called it. Xavier and his subtle regency called it cooking. It didn’t matter if you were in the kitchen or outside of it - smoke would inevitably furl. His lips would puff, jutting to form a scowl.
“I did it right this time,” he’d grumble. "I didn't even need a recipe."
The burnt vegetables in the bottom of the pan certainly disagreed.
Either way, you’d clasp your hands on his shoulders, rising on arched feet to kiss his cheek, then the wrinkle of his lips.
Six: Xavier and his knack for swordsmanship had led you to become his sparring partner. While there were many fine opponents, Xavier had claimed it was far different when dueling with you. You would hope so, you considered this flirting, if not foreplay. Xavier brandished his weapon as an extension of his desires. A swipe there, a thrust there, and soon your sleeves would be gone, fluttering to the grass beneath your feet. You swore when Xavier accompanied you shopping, he’d be deliberating which garment was easier to cut, which had more strings, and which were the most expendable.
In return, when you were wearing nothing but pieces of fabric, you’d exaggerate your grip on the hilt of your sword. Stabbed into the ground below, you could twirl your finger around the length, mimicking circling the head of his cock. Imagination would run wild, memories rampant, blending to produce fantasies. It was when your thumb would brush over his slit, would he kiss you. Any time your palm was pressed to his base, thick veins imprinting your skin, he’d have to be occupied with his mouth on yours. His moans when you’d squeeze would heat your tongue. Teeth might knock, his intensity foreign.
Seven: On a warm, sun-filled day, Xavier would nap. Eyelashes laid gently over his skin would seduce your fingers to trace his features. From between his eyebrows to the bridge of his nose, his silent, heavy breaths would remain on tempo. If he was deep in the land of dreams, his lips would be slightly parted, mouth barely ajar. While you might have drool seeping from your mouth, or your hair a mess, Xavier slept as if a prince.
“You can wake me with a kiss,” Xavier had said one day, frustrated he had awoken to just the pad of your finger on his bottom lip. “I don’t mind.”
“Like a fairytale?” You had guessed.
He smirked, “is our love not just as, if not more, magical?”
Since then, you’d kiss him awake when the opportunity arose. Morning breath be damned, his languid kiss would transform into a punch of intention. Once he had rolled, falling from the couch to pin you on the carpet. His sweatshirt had ridden up to his shoulder blades, your nails scratching lines over his ribs. He relished in it, leaving you there when he rose to make toast, cheeks flushed.
Eight: The flavor of Xavier’s kiss was often unpredictable. His love for sweet tarts was never a secret, not when you could taste the cream on your own tongue after licking his. From strawberries to raspberries, and of course, blueberries, you’d know exactly which confection he had picked up from the local bakery. If there were enough left for the both of you, a swipe of cream might paint his cheek, or perhaps your nose. If he was particularly ferocious that day, cream might decorate the peak of your breast, your ribs, or your hip. Afterall, he loved to nibble on sweet things.
Nine: Xavier was expressive. At the times he’d let you roam his body without his input, you’d bite. He’d gasp, a sound so breathy you’d watch his ears heat in welcomed embarrassment. Every kiss you left upon his legs, torso, arms, and head, he’d keep track of. Each moan you’d earn, every groan you’d pull from his chest, would be paid back tenfold. As much as he loved your attention, he equally enjoyed watching you squirm.
Ten: "If I'm away for too long, look up to the stars," he'd remind you before every departure. As he had taught you to read the words of the twinkling lights above, you’d huddle with your knees to your chest, watching light shoot from one end of the sky to another.
You would never forget what he had taught you. On your back he had drawn the constellations with his tongue. If you twitched, he’d blow air, cooling his saliva until it grew sticky. A small punishment, he would muse. Individual stars came in the form of kisses, little stickers made by pursed lips. Planets and galaxies alike were crafted by a suckle between his teeth, then the swipe of his tongue, until your skin blossomed with rising blood.
Upon you he would create a star chart. You were, afterall, his universe.
this person likes purple. the very first reason why she fell inlove with rafayel lol | rafayel main but cheats with the other lads men. heh | this blog is for 18+, I usually write smut from built-up sexual tension, not from established relationships. MINORS DNI. Don’t consume my contents if it’s not to your taste too.
warnings: nsfw 18+, multiple positions and orgasms, unprotected sex, fucks you where someone could see, oral sex, dirty talks and a lot more. minors dni.
synopsis: your next-door neighbor Xavier has always fixed whatever breaks in your place and you’ve repaid him with home-cooked meals he never asked for. You both tried to keep it neighborly, but the tension between you has been simmering for months...until the day a private package is accidentally delivered to him and he shows up at your door holding the already-opened box, the last of your restraint snaps. What starts as another “offer to help” ends with him fucking you in every spot he’s ever repaired.
word count: 3k+
Xavier lived right next door. Same floor, shared wall, the quiet neighbor you only ever spoke to when something broke.
He fixed things. Faucets that dripped, lights that flickered, the stubborn AC condenser on the balcony that leaked every summer. He never asked for payment. You started bringing him food instead. containers of leftovers, home-cooked meals, because the man lived on takeout and seemed to have zero interest in learning how to cook.
Over time the exchanges became routine. You relied on his hands; he relied on your kitchen. You both tried to keep it neighborly. But it never stayed that way because the two of you keep getting entangled in embarassing situations.
Awkward situations that surely builds tension between you.
One afternoon he replaced your kitchen light, the heat made him strip down to a thin white undershirt. Every time he reached overhead the fabric rode up, showing the hard ridges of his abs. You held the stepladder and stared. When he climbed down and caught you looking, he only said, “It’s done,” but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Another night you knocked on his door with a container of stew. He opened the door in nothing but dark boxers, hair still damp, chest gleaming from a shower. Your ears burned so hot you almost dropped the food. He took it with a quiet “thanks” and didn’t close the door until you’d already turned away.
Then the laundry room at the lower floor. You both reached for the same machine. Your lace underwear slipped from the basket and landed on his foot. He bent, picked it up and looked at it before giving it to you. It was embarassing that you mumbled thanks and immediately fled.
The worst was the night your friend got you half-drunk and dumped you at the building entrance. Xavier happened to be there. Your friend, loud and shameless, told him everything. how you gossiped about his abs, how you’d ogled him, how the quiet ones were always the freakiest.
Xavier guided you upstairs with an arm around your waist, and let you lean into him the whole way. Somewhere between the elevator and your door, you kept running your palm over his abs over his shirt, murmuring that they felt even better than they looked. He didn’t stop you. The next morning he said nothing about it, but every time he fixed something after that he’d murmur, mild and playful, “Don’t drink too much next time. You’ll end up in a very dangerous situation.”
You thought that was the peak of the embarrassment.
Not until the tracking update for your package notified you.
Delivered.
The photo of proof showed a pair of long legs in dark sweatpants. Xavier’s—accepting a package from the courier. No face, but you’d stared at that body enough times to know it by the way he stood.
Of all the things that could have been misdelivered to him...
It was a fucking dildo.
You stared at the screen, stomach dropping, and prayed he wouldn’t open it.
The doorbell rang less than ten minutes later.
You opened the door and found him standing there with the already-torn package in one hand. The cardboard was ripped enough that the unmistakable shape was visible.
“Sorry,” he said, voice low. "I opened it before I checked the name.” He held it out. “It's yours.”
You took it, ears burning. “Delivery mix-up. Happens.”
He didn’t leave. He just stood there in the doorway, quiet the way he always was, eyes steady on yours. The silence stretched until it felt charged.
“You need help with anything else tonight?” he asked, the same offer he’d made a hundred times for faucets and light fixtures. Only this time the corner of his mouth twitched, just barely, and you both knew exactly what he was offering.
Your throat worked. “I’ll… think about it.”
He nodded once and turned to go.
You closed the door, leaned against it, and exhaled shakily. The package sat on the counter like an accusation.
Later that night, you stared and decided to try the freakn' toy. It was slick, chasing you to the edge—but it wasn’t enough. Not when every stroke made you picture his hands, his abs, the way he’d looked standing in your doorway holding the damn thing.
You grabbed your phone and sent a message.
Xav, the toy you returned wasn’t enough.
You still offering to help?
The doorbell rang again before you could second-guess yourself.
You opened it and Xavier stepped in without a word, kicked the door shut behind him, and kissed you like he’d been waiting months for permission. His mouth was hot, insistent; one hand cupped the back of your neck while the other slid under your shirt, palm dragging up your spine. You moaned into the kiss and he answered with a low sound that vibrated against your tongue.
He walked you backward until your shoulders hit the wall, then broke the kiss just long enough to murmur against your mouth, “You sure you want my help?"
You nod in an instant, wrapping your arms on his neck. "You're the only one who can fix this itch. Screw me Xavier."
"Shit, I’m going to fuck you in every spot I’ve fixed in this place. Call it payment.”
You laughed breathlessly, already tugging at his shirt. “Quiet people are the freakiest. I knew it.”
“Yeah?” He pulled the shirt off in one motion, then yours. “You're not wrong."
He kissed down your throat, open-mouthed and wet, teeth scraping lightly over your collarbone. His tongue traced the line of your sternum, then lower, circling a nipple until you arched. “Been watching you watch me,” he said between licks. “Every time I reach up to change a bulb. Every time you bring food and stare at my chest. You wanted this.”
“I did...fuck, Xavier—”
He pushed you down onto the couch, hooked his fingers in your waistband, and dragged your shorts and underwear down together. The second the fabric cleared your thighs he leaned in and dragged his tongue through your folds in one long, messy stroke. You gasped his name. He did it again, slower, then sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked.
It was earnest and filthy. no teasing, just wet heat and the sound of him eating you like he’d been starving for it. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you tighter against his face while his tongue fucked into you in short, deep thrusts. You tangled your fingers in his hair and rolled your hips, moaning “Xavier.. oh fuck, eat me more, yes!” until your legs started to shake. He didn’t stop until you came on his tongue, thighs clamping around his head, your voice cracking on his name.
You barely recovered before you shoved him onto his back on the carpet, right under the light fixture he’d replaced last month. “Look at what you fixed,” you said, straddling his thighs and working his sweatpants down and removing it. His cock sprang free, thick and already leaking, admiring his veiny appetizing length. You wrapped your hand around him, stroked once, then took him into your mouth as deep as you could.
He cursed under his breath, one hand settling in your hair. “Fuck! look at you. Taking it like that under the light I put in. You’re so fucking wet still, I can see it.”
You hummed around him and he jerked. You sucked harder, hollowed your cheeks, let saliva drip down his shaft while your free hand cupped his balls. His hips twitched but he didn’t force anything; he just watched with dark eyes as you worked him. When he warned you he was close you stayed right there, and he came with a low groan, spilling across your tongue. You swallowed and kept licking until he pulled you up by the arms.
You climbed onto him properly, sinking down onto his still-hard cock in one slow slide. Both of you exhaled at the same time. For a moment you just sat there, feeling the stretch, the heat, the way his abs flexed under your palms. Then you started to move. slow rolls at first, grinding your clit against him, then rising and dropping faster. He gripped your hips and met every downward stroke with a thrust of his own.
“That’s it,” he gritted. “Ride me. Use me. Been thinking about this every time you brought me food and pretended you weren’t staring.”
“Xavier...Yes—fuck! Your dick is so much better than that toy, ohh...”
You bounced harder, nails digging into his chest, moaning his name every time he bottomed out. He came first this time, hips snapping up, flooding you while you kept riding through it until your own orgasm hit and you collapsed forward onto him, both of you breathing hard.
He wasn’t done.
He stood, still inside you, and carried you to the kitchen sink, the one whose faucet he’d fixed three weeks ago. He set you on the cold counter, pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in. The angle was deeper here. You wrapped your legs around his waist and held on while he fucked you in short, powerful strokes, the sound of skin on skin loud in the quiet apartment.
“This sink,” he said against your ear. “I fixed the drip. Now I’m going to fill you up right here.”
You came again with a broken cry. He followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt and grinding through it.
Still not finished, he carried you out to the small balcony where he’d repaired the leaking AC condenser last summer. The night air was cool against overheated skin. The city stretched out below. lights, distant traffic, the soft hum of other people’s lives. Anyone looking up from the right angle might see.
Xavier turned you around and bent you over the railing, one hand pressing between your shoulder blades until your chest met the cool metal. He dragged the head of his cock through the mess of cum already leaking down your thighs, then pushed in slow, letting you feel every inch.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re still so full of me and still this tight.”
You pushed back, taking him deeper. He started thrusting...long, deliberate strokes at first, the wet sound of his cock sliding through his own cum loud in the open air. One hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise; the other reached around and found your clit, rubbing in firm circles timed with every thrust.
“Anyone could look up,” he said against your ear, voice rough. “See me fucking you right here.”
“Let them. I don’t care, ohh...your cock feels so good, yes! don't stop Xavier-fuck me harder..”
He did. Long, wet strokes at first, then harder, the slap of skin on skin sharp in the night air. Your moans spilled out unchecked. He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in to the hilt, grinding deep so you felt the thick base of him stretch you open. Cum from earlier dripped down your thighs with every thrust, mixing with fresh slick.
He pulled out suddenly, spun you around, your back feeling the railings. He hooked one of your leg over his arms, your other feet on the ground, spreading you wide, and drove back into you in one hard thrust. The new angle made you cry out, the head of his cock dragging over the spot that made your vision blur.
“Look at you,” he growled. “spread wide like this, taking every inch. Gonna fill you again. Want it?”
“Yes please, ohh Xavier, come inside me!”
He thrust harder, the wet sounds obscene. You could feel how messy you already were, how every stroke pushed more of his earlier cum out around his cock. He leaned in and bit the side of your neck, then licked the mark.
“Gonna cream this pussy again. Right here on the balcony. Where anyone could see.”
You came hard from the dirty talk, walls clenching, a broken moan of his name spilling into the open air. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking you through it, chasing his own release, until his rhythm broke. He slammed in deep one last time and held there, cock pulsing as he came. hot, thick pulses flooding you, more than before. You felt every spurt, the way it filled you until it started leaking out around him even while he was still buried to the hilt.
He stayed inside you for a long moment, breathing hard against your neck, still twitching with aftershocks. When he finally pulled out, a thick rope of cum followed, sliding down your inner thigh. He watched it with dark eyes, then pushed two fingers back into you, scooping some of it and pressing it deeper again.
“Stay full,” he murmured. “I want it leaking out of you the rest of the night.”
You were both wrecked by then. sweaty, shaking, skin marked and sticky. He carried you back inside and collapsed with you on the couch, your legs still trembling.
You traced lazy circles on his well-defined abs. “Thank you. For… all the fixing. And this.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “You should break something in the bedroom next. And the bathroom. Give me a reason to come back and fuck you there too.”
You grinned. “You don’t need a reason. You can come over whenever you want.”
He kissed the top of your head. “Same goes for my place. We help each other out.”
You stayed like that for a long time, the apartment quiet except for the soft sound of his breathing and the distant city noise, the air still thick with everything you’d just done in every room he’d ever repaired.
