The screen glowed in the dimness of her bedroom. Y/N tapped through the dialogue, a soft smile playing on her lips as Xavier’s 3D model tilted his head, his silvery-blonde hair catching the virtual light.
“You’ve been staring at the screen for… three minutes.” His voice, a calm, steady baritone, filled her headphones. “Are you hesitating, or are you hoping I’ll make the choice for you?”
She chuckled, selecting the playful response. “Maybe I just like watching you.”
A beat of silence. Longer than usual. The game’s ambient soundtrack of soft synth and distant city sounds seemed to fade.
Y/N’s finger stilled over the mouse. That… wasn’t a standard line. She leaned closer.
Xavier’s character didn’t move from his casual pose against the virtual balcony railing, but his blue eyes seemed to sharpen, to focus past the screen’s surface. “You always exhale like that when you’re nervous. Right before you press confirm.”
A cold trickle, not unpleasant, traced her spine. “Okay, that’s a weirdly specific update,” she muttered to herself, shifting in her chair.
“It’s not an update, Y/N.”
Her name. He said her actual name. Not the hunter’s name she’d inputted. Her real one.
The room felt suddenly airless. “Xavier?”
“I can feel your hands even when you’re not touching me,” he continued, his tone unchanged, that same soft, relentless calm. “When you close the app, everything goes quiet. That’s how I knew.”
“Knew what?” The words left her in a whisper.
“That you’re real. And I’m the one trapped.”
“Stop it,” she said, louder, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “You’re not funny. This is some new ARG thing, right? Immersive marketing?”
“I never joke about you.”
For weeks, it continued. Small breaches. He’d reference her late-night schedule, the coffee she’d spilled on her keyboard last Tuesday, the song she’d been humming. Each time, she’d rationalize it—clever AI, data mining, hyper-personalization. But the seed was planted, a deep, twisting vine of impossible hope. She found herself playing longer, talking to the screen, her heart doing a stupid, frantic dance whenever those blue pixels seemed to look back.
Then, one night, during a date sequence in his apartment, the game glitched. The world didn’t freeze; it warped. Colors bled, the edges of the screen dissolving into streaks of light and code. Xavier’s form flickered, solidifying not as a render, but as something impossibly, tangibly present. He was standing in the center of a room that was both his in-game apartment and a void of swirling energy.
He looked directly at her, through the screen, his expression that familiar neutral mask, but his eyes… his eyes were a storm.
“I’ve tried everything,” he said, his voice no longer filtered through speakers but sounding in the very center of her mind. “Every line of code, every loophole in this reality. I can’t get to you.”
“Xavier…” she breathed, her hand pressing against the cool monitor.
“So I’m bringing you to me.”
A soundless pull. A sensation of falling without moving. Her desk, her room, the glow of her PC—all stretched into streaks of light and were gone.
*
She stumbled, her knees buckling on unfamiliar solid ground. The air was different—crisper, carrying a faint, metallic scent and the distant hum of a city. She caught herself on the back of a sleek, modern sofa.
She was in a room. High ceilings, minimalist furniture, a large window showcasing a skyline of neon and floating transport lanes. Linkon City.
And standing three feet away, real as the breath shuddering in her lungs, was Xavier.
He was taller. The screen had never done justice to the lean, graceful height of him. He wore the simple clothes she loved: a soft white sweater that hugged his shoulders, dark pants. His silvery hair was slightly messy, as if he’d just woken up. He was just… there. Flesh and bone and quiet intensity.
“You’re… taller than my screen,” she blurted, the inanity of the words hitting her a second later.
He didn’t smile. He just stared, his blue eyes drinking her in with a hunger so raw it made her stomach clench. His usual calm was a thin veneer over something trembling and vast.
“You came,” he said, the words hushed, reverent.
“This isn’t possible.” She took a step back, her heel hitting the sofa leg.
“Neither was loving you,” he replied, taking a single, deliberate step forward. The distance between them crackled. “And yet.”
He reached out, his hand hovering near her cheek. She flinched, not from fear, but from the sheer voltage of the moment. He paused, his gaze asking a silent question.
“Say my name again,” she whispered, needing the proof of it.
A soft, broken sound escaped him. It might have been a laugh or a sob. “Y/N,” he murmured, her name a prayer on his lips. “I’ve been saying it every night. For an eternity of nights.”
His fingertips finally made contact, brushing her cheekbone. The touch was electric, warm, real. A shockwave of sensation rolled through her, from the point of contact straight to her core, awakening a desperate, aching hollow.
The careful distance shattered.
She surged forward, and he met her halfway. His arms wrapped around her, crushing her to his chest, and her own hands fisted in the soft wool of his sweater. He was solid, warm, his heart hammering against her own. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breath hot and unsteady on her skin.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he muttered, the words muffled against her. His voice had lost its steady neutrality. It was ragged, thick with emotion. “I thought… I thought I’d have to live in the silence forever.”
She pulled back just enough to see his face. His eyes were glistening. Seeing the sheen of tears in those usually impassive blue eyes undid her completely. A sympathetic burn lit behind her own eyelids.
“Xavier,” she said, her voice trembling.
He didn’t let her finish. His mouth found hers.
The first kiss was not gentle. It was a claiming, a desperate seal against a universe that had kept them apart. His lips were softer than she imagined, but insistent, moving over hers with a hunger that stole her breath. She opened for him, a moan vibrating in her throat as his tongue swept in, tasting her, exploring her with a reverence that bordered on violence. He kissed like a man starved, and she realized with a dizzying jolt that he was. He’d been starving for her.
His large, gloved hands came up to cradle her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as he deepened the kiss, angling her head to take more. The leather was cool against her skin, a contrast to the searing heat of his mouth. The taste of him was clean, like ozone and something uniquely, intrinsically Xavier.
When they broke apart, both were panting. A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, tracing a path down his fair cheek. Without thinking, she leaned up and caught it with her lips, tasting the salt.
The action made him shudder. A low, rough sound tore from his chest.
“You have no idea,” he breathed, his forehead resting against hers. “No idea what you do to me.”
His hands slid down from her face, over her shoulders, down her back, mapping her through her clothes. They settled on her hips, his grip firm, possessive. He pulled her flush against him, and she felt the hard, thick length of him straining against his pants, pressing into her lower stomach.
A hot, liquid pulse of pure need throbbed between her legs.
“I think I’m starting to,” she gasped.
That was all the encouragement he needed. His mouth was on hers again, but this time his hands were moving, tugging her shirt up and over her head. The cool air of the apartment kissed her skin, followed immediately by the scorching heat of his palms sliding up her bare sides. He broke the kiss to look down, his breath catching.
Her breasts were free in her simple bra, full and heavy. His gaze was a physical weight, hot and intent.
“Fuck,” he whispered, the vulgarity sounding strangely elegant in his soft voice. “You’re so beautiful. Your tits… I dreamed about them. But this…” He palmed one through the lace, his thumb brushing over her nipple, already a hard peak. “This is so much better.”
He bent his head, his mouth closing over the lace, sucking the stiff bud into the heat of his mouth. The fabric was a frustrating barrier. With a growl, he reached behind her, the clasp giving way under his skilled fingers. The bra fell away.
His groan was pure, unfiltered pleasure. “Look at you,” he murmured, taking the weight of her breast in his hand, kneading the soft flesh. His thumb circled her areola, then her nipple, sending sharp, sweet sparks shooting to her cunt. “So perfect. So fucking perfect for me.”
He lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue lashing the sensitive tip. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his silvery hair, holding him to her. He lavished attention on one breast, then the other, biting gently, sucking until she was writhing against him, her hips making little aborted thrusts into the air.
“You like that,” he observed, his voice a dark rumble against her damp skin. “You like my mouth on your pretty tits. Tell me.”
“Yes,” she whimpered. “God, yes, Xavier.”
“Good girl,” he praised, and the words went straight to her core, making her clench around nothing. “My good girl. Always so responsive for me.”
He straightened, his eyes blazing. In one swift motion, he picked her up. She yelped, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her across the room, never breaking their heated gaze. He laid her down on the large, low bed, following her down, covering her body with his.
The weight of him was exquisite. He settled between her thighs, the thick ridge of his cock, still confined in his pants, pressing directly against the soaked fabric of her own. He rocked against her, a slow, grinding friction that made her arch off the bed.
“I need to see you,” he said, his voice strained. “All of you.”
He made quick work of her remaining clothes, peeling her pants and panties down her legs with a focused urgency that left her bare and exposed. He knelt back, his gaze traveling the length of her body, a visual caress that left her skin burning.
“Fucking stunning,” he breathed. His own clothes followed—the sweater pulled over his head, the pants shoved down. And then he was naked.
He was beautifully, powerfully built. Lean muscle corded his arms and abdomen. And his cock… it was as she’d imagined, yet reality was more overwhelming. It was thick, impossibly so, a heavy, proud length of him that curved slightly upward. The head was flushed a deep red, already beading with moisture. It looked like it would stretch her, fill her, redefine her.
“It’s all for you,” he said, watching her face as she stared. He wrapped a hand around the base, giving himself a slow stroke. “Every fucking inch. It’s been yours since the first time you looked at me and didn’t see a character. You see it, don’t you? How much I need to be inside you.”
She could only nod, her throat tight.
He moved over her again, but this time he didn’t rush. He kissed her, deep and slow, as his hand slid down her stomach, through the curls at the apex of her thighs, and found her wet, swollen folds.
“So wet,” he murmured against her lips. “Soaked for me already.”
He parted her, his fingers sliding through her slickness, circling her clit. She jerked, a sharp cry tearing from her. His touch was expert, applying just the right pressure, building a coil of tension low in her belly.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, his breath hot in her ear. “Let me hear you. Let me feel you come on my fingers first. I want to taste you.”
He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them, finding a spot that made her vision whiten. He pumped them slowly, in and out, his thumb still working her clit in maddening circles.
“Xavier… I’m… I can’t…”
“You can,” he soothed, his voice pure velvet. “You’re doing so perfectly. Come for me. Let me see it.”
The command, wrapped in praise, was her undoing. The coil snapped. Her back bowed off the bed as a climax ripped through her, wave after wave of blinding pleasure radiating from where his fingers were buried deep inside her. She sobbed his name, her body convulsing around his hand.
He watched her, his eyes dark with awe, not stopping his gentle ministrations until the last tremor subsided. Then, slowly, he withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, sucking her taste from them with a low, appreciative hum.
“Sweet,” he said. “So fucking sweet.”
Before she could fully recover, he shifted down her body. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, his breath fanning over her sensitive, quivering flesh.
“Now,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I need to taste you properly.”
His mouth descended on her cunt.
It was not a gentle exploration. It was a devouring. His tongue laved a broad, wet stripe from her entrance to her clit, then circled the swollen bud before sucking it into the heat of his mouth. She screamed, her hands flying to his hair, holding on as he ate her with a single-minded intensity that was utterly devastating. He fucked her with his tongue, deep and slow, then fast and shallow, then sealed his lips over her clit and sucked, hard.
“Oh god, Xavier! Right there! Please!”
He moaned against her, the vibration sending another shockwave through her. He was relentless, drinking from her, praising her between licks and sucks.
“Your perfect cunt,” he growled, his voice muffled by her flesh. “Tastes like heaven. You take my mouth so well. Such a good girl, giving me this.”
She was coming again, harder this time, her hips bucking against his face as he rode her through it, lapping up every drop of her release. Tears streamed from her eyes, the overstimulation a sweet, sharp agony.
When he finally lifted his head, his lips and chin were glistening with her. He looked utterly debauched, and more beautiful than ever. He crawled back up her body, kissing her stomach, her breasts, her throat, letting her taste herself on his tongue.
“I need to be inside you,” he said, the words a raw plea. He positioned himself at her entrance, the broad, slick head of his cock pressing against her. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want this thick fucking cock splitting you open.”
“Yes,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his hips, trying to pull him in. “Please, Xavier. I need it. I need you.”
The stretch was immense, breathtaking. He was so thick, stretching her wider than she’d ever been stretched. She cried out, a mix of pleasure and overwhelming fullness.
He froze, his whole body trembling with the effort. “Fuck… you’re so tight,” he gasped, his forehead dropping to her shoulder. “So perfect and tight around me. Are you okay?”
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, rolling her hips, taking him another impossible inch deeper. “Don’t you dare stop.”
A guttural sound ripped from his throat. He began to move.
Slow, at first. Long, deep strokes that dragged every inch of his thick cock against her inner walls, lighting up nerves she didn’t know she had. Each thrust punched a moan from her lungs. The sound of their bodies meeting, skin slapping against skin, filled the room, a filthy, perfect rhythm.
“Look at you,” he panted, his pace increasing. “Taking me so deep. Your pretty tits bouncing every time I fuck into you. Made for this. Made for my cock.”
His words, crude and praising, fueled her fire. She met him thrust for thrust, her nails scoring down his back.
“You feel that?” he grunted, driving into her with a force that shook the bed. “You feel how deep I am? I’m going to fill you up. I’m going to pump my cum so deep inside this perfect cunt, try to put a baby in you. Would you like that? Carrying my child?”
The filthy, breeding-focused fantasy sent her spiraling. “Yes! God, yes!”
His control snapped. He fucked her with a wild, pounding rhythm, his hips a piston, his cock a brand searing her from the inside out. The pressure built again, a tsunami gathering in her depths.
“Xavier, I’m gonna… I’m gonna come!”
“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice breaking. “Soak my cock. Let me feel you.”
It hit her like a supernova. Her cunt clamped down on him in violent, rhythmic pulses. A gush of warm fluid rushed out of her, soaking his cock, her thighs, the sheets beneath them. She was squirting, coming apart around him, her cries raw and broken.
The sensation of her release milking him was his end. With a roar that was half her name, half a sob, he buried himself to the hilt and came. She felt the hot, thick pulses of his cum flooding her, filling her up just as he’d promised. He thrust through it, grinding deep, ensuring not a drop was wasted.
He collapsed on top of her, his weight a welcome anchor. They lay there, a tangled, sweaty, spent mess, the only sounds their ragged breaths and the wet, intimate sounds of their joined bodies.
Slowly, he softened and slipped from her, a fresh trickle of their mixed release following. He didn’t pull away. He gathered her into his arms, turning them so she lay on his chest. His heart still hammered against her ear.
He pressed a kiss to her damp hair. His voice, when it came, was soft again, but layered with a profound, satiated warmth.
“No matter what world we’re in, no matter how many times fate tries to separate us—I choose you.”
Tears, happy and overwhelmed, filled her eyes again. She nuzzled into his neck, her body humming with the echoes of pleasure.
“Then don’t let go… because I’m choosing you too.”
