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hauntedbysmut · 22 days ago

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Hide and Surrender

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: A simple game of hide and seek turns way more intense than you thought it would.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?”

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, cnc, cunnilingus, predator play, predator x prey, hide and seek with roleplay, restraining, chasing, slightly rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, forced blowjob

AN: Another fic idea that wouldn't leave my head. Can't remember which Touring in Love chapter it was, but in it Sylus plays hide and seek with us. And I was like, yknow what would make this 100x better? Predator play :3

"What would you like to play? I'll join you."

Those were the words that started it all.

You had half-expected Sylus to scoff at your suggestion, to find you childish for wanting to indulge in a game meant for children. But to your surprise, he agreed without hesitation, not even asking why. There was something in the way he said it, though—something that made your pulse quicken.

"You've played this before, right, Sylus?" you ask, covering your eyes with your hands to demonstrate. "You cover your eyes like this and count to ten. Then you come find me."

A moment of silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken. Then, warm fingers wrap around your wrists, prying your hands gently away from your face. Your breath catches as you find yourself trapped beneath Sylus’ gaze—two crimson eyes watching you with something unreadable, something dangerous.

Those eyes—burning, searing, all-consuming—lock onto yours with something unreadable, something dangerous. It’s not just amusement or curiosity; it’s something deeper, something that snakes around your ribs and makes it hard to breathe. The way he looks at you is slow, patient, as if he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece, as if he’s already thought of a thousand ways this game will end.

You feel your heart hammering against your ribs, loud, deafening, a traitorous thing that gives away too much.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, as if studying you. The corners of his lips twitch—not quite a smile, but something just as unsettling.

"I didn’t have time or interest for such games when I was a child," he murmurs, his voice low, almost predatory. His lips curl into something between a smirk and a smile, and the way he looms over you makes you feel smaller, caged. "But for you? I’ll learn quickly, kitten."

The pet name slithers through the air, coiling around you, sinking into your skin like a brand. A shiver ripples down your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving a molten trail in its wake. Heat pools deep in your underwear, an unwelcome warmth that you fight to ignore. Your throat goes dry, and you tear your gaze away, desperate to escape the weight of his stare. But it’s too late—he’s already seen it.

A low chuckle spills from his lips, rich and smooth, yet laced with something dark. Something knowing. The sound wraps around you, thick with amusement, but there’s something beneath it, something that burrows under your skin and makes your pulse falter in a way that has nothing to do with fear. It’s dangerous—not because of what it is, but because of how your body reacts to it.

Like a predator toying with its prey.

He lingers, close enough that the heat of him prickles against your skin, close enough that you can see the glint in his half-lidded eyes. Yet, just as your breath catches in your throat, just as the tension coils so tight it threatens to snap, he takes a step back. Barely. Not enough to be safe—never enough to be safe—but just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.

His head tilts slightly, gaze lazy, his voice dipping into something slow, syrupy, dangerously smooth.

"Go on, then."

The words are soft, but there’s no playfulness in them anymore. No lighthearted teasing. Only promise. A single word, unspoken but heavy in the air between you.

"Hide."

There’s definitely no playfulness in his voice now.

Your pulse roars in your ears as adrenaline surges through your veins. Fine. You weren’t going down easy. This was just a simple game of Hide and Seek—nothing more. You force yourself to ignore the way your stomach twists, how your breath feels too fast, too shallow. You're overthinking it. Sylus loves to tease you, to get under your skin, to watch you squirm. He loves making you flustered, and you know that. But still…there's something in the way his lips curled into a smirk before he turned around to count, something in his tone when he called out, that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"One…two…three…"

The second his eyes leave you, you bolt. Your feet pound against the tile floor as you dash up the stairs, each step groaning under your weight. Your movements are clumsy, fueled by nothing but instinct. You wince at how loud you are, practically announcing your location, but at this point? Who cares. The only thing that matters is finding a place to hide before—

"Ten." His voice is slow, deliberate. You swear you hear amusement laced in it.

You don't stop running. You throw yourself into his room, nearly tripping over your own feet as you spin wildly, scanning the space for the perfect hiding spot. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession, air burning in your lungs. The bed? No, too obvious. Under the desk? Not enough coverage.

Then, you hear it.

"Let's see where my little kitten decided to hide."

Your blood turns to ice.

Without thinking, you dive toward the closet, yanking the door open just enough to squeeze inside before gently—so gently—pulling it shut, leaving only the smallest crack to peek through. Darkness swallows you whole, the scent of Sylus’s cologne thick in the enclosed space, invading your senses. Your back presses against the wall, every inch of you wound so tightly that your muscles ache. Your breath comes in rapid, uneven pants, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to silence yourself.

Your heart pounds violently against your ribs, so loud it feels like it’s betraying you, threatening to give you away. You try to steady it, to slow your breaths, but every little sound—the creak of a floorboard, the soft click of a door opening—sends another jolt of panic surging through you.

Then, footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Getting closer.

You hear him before you see him.

The door creaks open, a slow, deliberate sound that cuts through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. The room seems to shrink, the air thickening as his presence fills the space. It’s not just the sound of his footsteps—it’s something deeper, something intangible, an unseen force that presses against your chest, making it harder to breathe. Your heart pounds in response, the steady thump-thump-thump filling your ears like a war drum. Even as fear coils in your stomach, there's an undeniable thrill laced within it, a rush of something you refuse to name.

Through the narrow crack in the closet door, you finally see him. Sylus moves with practiced ease, unhurried, precise, like a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run. His crimson eyes flicker with something unreadable as they scan the room. He doesn’t fumble, doesn’t hesitate. There’s an unsettling certainty to his movements, a quiet confidence that makes your pulse quicken.

His fingers trail lazily along the back of the couch before he crouches, peering beneath it. “Not under the couch, I see,” he muses, his voice smooth, almost casual. But there’s something beneath the words, something sharp, something laced with amusement, as if he already knows exactly where you are.

"Behind the curtains, maybe?" He doesn’t sound like he’s searching. He sounds like he’s toying with you.

He straightens, then shifts his focus to the glass windows, where the heavy curtains hang still. He moves toward them, fingertips grazing the fabric before he suddenly jerks them aside. You tense instinctively, though you know you aren’t there. He pauses, as if savoring the moment, before releasing the curtain and letting it drift back into place.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. Your lungs burn with the effort of staying quiet, of keeping still.

Then he turns, and your heart stutters violently in your chest as his gaze lands on the bed. No way he doesn’t already know where you are. No way his senses are that dull. You watch, frozen in place, as he slowly kneels, resting a hand against the mattress as he leans down to inspect the space beneath the frame. He hums softly. "Hmm...not under the bed either."

The moment he stands, you know. His next stop is the wardrobe.

A faint chuckle spills from his lips, low, knowing, as he starts toward you with slow, deliberate steps. Every cell in your body screams at you to move, but you remain paralyzed, pressed against the back of the closet as if you could somehow will yourself into the shadows. You can barely hear over the deafening thud of your heartbeat.

"Y’know, kitten," he drawls, his voice a lazy, syrupy purr that drips with something thick, something dangerous, "the sooner you come out, the gentler I’ll be with you."

Your breath catches violently in your throat. His voice alone sends a jolt through you, a sharp, involuntary response that leaves you feeling raw, exposed.

Then—he stops.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, before abruptly turning away. "Oh right, I almost forgot to check the living room."

This is your chance. Your only chance.

No time to think—just move!

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. With a burst of energy, you shove the closet door open and bolt. The sudden shift from stillness to motion is disorienting, but you don’t stop, don’t hesitate. Your feet slam against the floor as you propel yourself forward, the only thought in your mind being run.

You don’t dare look back.

But then—air shifts behind you.

A sharp inhale. A pivot of movement.

And then—footsteps. Fast. Closing in.

Panic surges through you, raw and electric, as you push yourself harder. Your legs burn, your lungs ache, but you don’t stop. You just have to make it downstairs. Just a little farther. Just a little—

A rush of air. A presence at your back.

And then—a hand. Wrapping around your wrist.

You scream, a sharp, startled sound that barely has time to leave your lips before Sylus yanks you back with a firm tug of your wrist. The sudden force sends you stumbling, crashing into his chest, your breath hitching as his arm snakes around your waist, keeping you locked in place. He’s warm, solid, unyielding, and far too close. His scent—something dark and intoxicating—invades your senses, making your already racing heart hammer harder.

“Found you, kitten,” he murmurs, amusement dripping from his tone. His lips curl into a smirk as he tilts his head slightly, eyes glowing with satisfaction. “I was starting to worry I lost you forever.”

The mockery in his voice is unmistakable, but inwardly, you’re grinning, nearly laughing. This was exactly what you wanted—a chase, a fight, a chance to push back. But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you put on your best scowl, defiance burning in your gaze.

"Your acting’s gotten worse," you spit, jerking against his hold. You bring your knee up sharply, aiming for his groin with all the force you can muster.

But he’s faster.

Before your knee can make contact, a thick tendril of red mist swirls around you, his Evol surging to life in an instant. The energy coils around your limbs like living chains, locking you in place just as he moves.

In the blink of an eye, he shifts, twisting effortlessly, using his grip on you to throw you onto the bed with little more than a flick of his wrist. The mattress dips beneath your weight, and before you can even think of scrambling away, he’s already on top, looming over you, his expression smug, too amused.

You lash out.

Your fist shoots toward his face, but he leans back smoothly, just enough for your knuckles to miss his jaw by mere inches. You shift, twisting your body, using the momentum to kick upward, aiming for his ribs. Again, he dodges—his body shifting effortlessly, as if he already knows exactly what you’re going to do before you do it.

“Tsk, tsk,” he hums, easily maneuvering around another wild swing from you. “You’re getting sloppy, kitten. I thought you were actually trying.”

You grit your teeth, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. You manage to free an arm from the tendrils of mist, and without hesitation, you try to land a punch to his shoulder. This time, he catches your wrist mid-air, his grip tightening just enough to still your movement.

“You bast—” You twist your hips sharply, using every ounce of strength to break free, but he barely even moves. If anything, he looks bored, like he’s humoring you.

Sylus chuckles, low and deep. “You really don’t know when to give up, do you?” His grip on your wrist shifts slightly before he suddenly pushes you down hard, making you gasp as your bodies gravity shifts, forced into submission once again.

You feel your pulse jump when his lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to something even smoother, even softer, but no less dangerous.

“And here I thought we were just playing.” His fingers tighten ever so slightly around your wrists, his body pressing just close enough to remind you how little control you actually have in this moment. “I guess it’s my turn to get serious, hm?”

Your breath catches.

Something shifts in the air.

"S-Sylus, wait—" you gasp, your words catching in your throat as the sound of fabric tearing fills the room. In one swift motion, he's ripped your shorts apart, leaving your legs exposed to the cool air, the sudden chill a stark contrast to the heat still simmering between your thighs. Your underwear is the only thing left, a flimsy barrier between his intentions and your already soaked folds.

You start to protest, a mix of shock and anticipation swirling inside you, but the words die on your lips as Sylus shushes you softly, his voice a low, calming murmur. "Shh..." he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine.

"All that fighting, and yet you're soaked down here, kitten".

With deliberate slowness, he lowers his head between your thighs, the anticipation building as his lips hover just above the thin cloth. His tongue flicks out, tracing the outline of your folds through the fabric with agonizing precision. Each stroke is slow, torturous, a teasing promise of what's to come, and your protests dissolve into soft whimpers of need.

"An orgasm or two should get rid of that feistiness," he murmurs against you, his voice a rich, dark promise that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

Sylus's fingers deftly hook into the elastic of your panties, pulling the cloth aside with a practiced ease that leaves you exposed to him, vulnerable and aching. The cool air brushes against your skin for a fleeting moment before his mouth descends, and all coherent thought shatters as his tongue finds your aching cunt.

"Ah!"

The first touch is electric, a jolt of pure pleasure that arches your back off the bed, your hips lifting to meet him with a desperate need. His tongue works with a deliberate, maddening rhythm, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks that have you gasping for breath.

Your hands find their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold him to you, guiding him closer even as your mind spins with the intensity of it all. He doesn't mind in the slightest, his low, satisfied hum sending vibrations through you, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"This—is c-cheating..." you manage to whine between ragged breaths, though your actions betray you as your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his mouth, seeking more of the pleasure he's so expertly giving.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?” he says, before continuing his assault on your clit. His words send your head spinning and you suddenly feel like you can barely breathe.

With a renewed dedication, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that leaves you trembling. The world dissolves around you, leaving nothing but the exquisite sensation of his mouth on you, driving you relentlessly toward the peak of ecstasy.

The sensation of his tongue slipping inside you leaves you reeling, each thrust a masterful stroke that has you feeling drunk on the sheer ecstasy he’s delivering. It’s a skill that seems almost divine, the way he knows exactly how to unravel you, how to make you moan and whine so uncontrollably that it borders on begging.

Your body responds helplessly, hips bucking against him as your hands clutch at the sheets, trying to anchor yourself in the storm of pleasure. His tongue moves with purpose, each flick and thrust pushing you closer to that precipice, until finally, he shifts his focus, sucking on your clit with a precision that sends you spiraling over the edge.

The orgasm tears through you, leaving you breathless and shaking, your cries echoing in the room as you ride out the waves of bliss. But even as you begin to descend from the high, you’re dismayed to find that Sylus isn’t stopping, his mouth still working you with relentless dedication.

“P-please...no more...” you plead, trying to twist away, your body oversensitive and overwhelmed. But he simply adjusts his grip, his hands firm on your waist, holding you in place with an easy strength that keeps you from escaping.

“Still a little feisty, hm?” he teases, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looks up at you. “Like I thought. One more should do.” His words are a promise and a challenge, and as his mouth returns to its task, you know you’re helpless to resist the pull of his mastery, your body already surrendering to the inevitable wave building once more.

"Mgnh...ah..."

And just as promised, the fight within you starts to ebb away, like sand slipping through fingers, as Sylus's tongue continues its relentless, masterful assault. The pleasure builds higher to the point where it almost hurts, a crescendo that leaves you breathless and trembling, unable to do anything but call out his name, your voice breaking as your body jerks and shakes under his skilled touch.

"Sylus!"

The second orgasm crashes over you, pulling you under its tide, leaving you riding the waves of ecstasy until you finally collapse, utterly spent, like a boneless heap of jello. Your chest heaves with each ragged breath, tears of overstimulation gathering at the corners of your eyes, evidence of the intensity that just ripped through you.

Sylus leans back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he licks his lips, savoring the taste of you. He studies you with a mixture of amusement and triumph, taking in your ragdoll form sprawled before him. "Going to try and fight me again?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

You manage a weak shake of your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your own lips, despite the exhaustion. Damn this slick bastard and his godly tongue, you think, a mixture of exasperation and admiration swirling within you.

"Good, just how I like you," he murmurs, his voice a low purr that sends a shiver through your already sensitive body. His hands move to his belt, fingers working with deliberate slowness to undo it, each click of the metal buckle a promise of what's to come. "Seems you're ready for the last phase of our game," he declares, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with a hunger that promises there's much more yet to be explored.

You lay there, your body still humming with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure he had delivered, your eyes heavy-lidded, your breath coming in short gasps. Sylus, ever attentive, noticed your gaze drifting downward, a mix of anticipation and desire in your eyes as you took in the hard and prominent bulge in his pants.

Your cheeks flushed as you realized the effect you had on him, his hard length straining and throbbing against the fabric of his pants, a testament to the pent-up desire that had been building throughout your little "game." He had only eaten you out and yet his cock seemed like it was about to burst and break the zipper.

Sylus finishes undoing his belt, the soft clinking of the metal a rhythmic counterpoint to your pounding heartbeat. The anticipation is electric, a live wire thrumming between you as his pants finally fall away, revealing the impressive length of him. Even after all the times you’ve had each other, his size never fails to elicit a sense of awe.

Your eyes widened as Sylus, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, moved closer, his hard length throbbing in front of your mouth. You shook your head, a silent refusal, playing hard to get, but he was having none of it. With a swift motion, he cupped your chin, tilting your head back and guiding his throbbing cock towards your mouth.

"Open up, sweetie," he whispered, his voice a low command. "Good little prey does as they're told."

Your heart raced as you felt the heat of his cock against your lips, his hands firm on your head, guiding you to take him in. You strained for control, but his grip tightened, and with a gentle yet insistent pressure, he pushed his length past your lips, filling your mouth with his hardness.

You gagged slightly, your eyes watering, but he held you firmly in place, his cock sliding deeper, his hands holding your face still, ensuring you took him all the way down your throat.

"Good girl," he moaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "Breathe through your nose, kitten."

You did as he commanded, your mouth working around his length, your tongue swirling, your throat constricting around him, the sensation of his hardness and the taste of him overwhelming your senses. He began to thrust gently, his hips moving in a slow, controlled rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, his moans filling the room.

"That's it," he whispered, his breath ragged. "Take all of me, claim me as I'll claim you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you redoubled your efforts, your mouth and throat working in unison, your hands gripping his thighs as he used your mouth for his pleasure. But just as you thought he would climax, he pulled out, his cock glistening with your saliva.

"Not yet," he said, his voice hoarse. "I won't miss the chance to claim my freshly caught prey with my seed."

He catches the wide look in your eyes and grins again, a wicked gleam lighting up his features as he moves closer, positioning himself between your trembling thighs. The head of his cock teases your entrance, brushing against your slick folds with a touch so light it sends a tremor of anticipation through you.

"Stay still." he murmurs, his voice a low purr that vibrates against your skin. You nod, breathless, as he begins to push forward, the slow, steady pressure parting your folds and stretching you inch by inch. The sensation is both exquisite and overwhelming, a delicious burn that leaves you gasping, feeling impossibly full as he sinks deeper inside you. You unknowingly tense up, and Sylus pauses.

Sylus's voice, low and soothing, filled the room as he slightly broke from his rough and demeaning role. His hands gently caressing your hips, his body still poised at your entrance. "Might as well relax" he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. "You have no choice but to take it anyways, kitten".

His words, spoken with tenderness and experience, were a balm to your nerves. You recognize this as his way of checking in and reminding you to relax without fully breaking the mood. He began to move with slow, gentle thrusts, his length sliding into you with deliberate slowness, allowing your body time to accommodate his size. "That's it, squeeze around me," he encouraged, his lips brushing your ear. "Feel me filling you, stretching you, making you whole."

The pain began to subside, replaced by a building pleasure as your body accepted his intrusion, the discomfort transforming into a unique blend of sensations. You moaned, a mix of relief and arousal, as he continued his slow, steady rhythm, his body moving in sync with yours, his hands guiding you through the waves of pleasure and discomfort, until the pain was a distant memory, and all that remained was the exquisite sensation of being filled by his hard length.

Your fingers curl into the bedsheets, clutching them for support as he begins to move again, each thrust firm and unrelenting, setting a rhythm that has you moaning helplessly beneath him. The friction is intoxicating, the sound of skin against skin mingling with your cries as you arch into him, your body alight with pleasure.

Sylus's breath came in short, sharp gasps as he thrust into you, his voice thick with desire. "So tight, so fucking wet," he growled, his words a testament to the pleasure you were providing. His hips moved in a relentless rhythm, his powerful strokes driving into your core with a force that left you breathless, your body trembling with each impact.

As the pleasure mounted within you, swelling like a storm threatening to break, Sylus transformed his movements into a slow, torturous dance. Each thrust was languid and deliberate, a teasing rhythm that played your body like a finely tuned instrument. You were on the brink, right at the precipice, but he held you there, tantalizingly close yet agonizingly far from the release you craved.

"Please, Sylus..." you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea, raw with need. "I need to...I need to finish..."

He leaned in, his breath a scorching whisper against your ear, his lips brushing your skin with feather-light caresses. "I'll let you cum, my love, if you tell me who won."

This bastard. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy.

The challenge in his words sent a shiver racing through you, a heady mix of excitement and frustration. You yearned for the release, but admitting his victory felt like a concession too steep. "Fuck you" you spat, your voice caught between resistance and the relentless pull of longing.

Sylus's pace slowed further, each thrust a deliberate tease, his body a contradiction of slow, sensual movements and the raw, simmering desire you could feel pulsing in every inch of him. "Mmm, not quite the answer I'm looking for. Tell me, sweetie," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sending tingling sensations along your skin. "Who won this little game?"

Your body trembled beneath him, caught in the crossfire of need and stubbornness. The sweet torture was a dance of agony and ecstasy, and it was almost too much to bear and you snapped. "You w-won," you finally admitted, the words spilling from your lips like a confession, tearing free as you surrendered to the pleasure he offered, your body arching toward him in a silent plea. "Please...let me cum!"

"That's my good girl," he growled, his voice a low, primal rumble that resonated through your very core. "Now, cum for me."

His pace shifted, each thrust gaining force and urgency, driving deep and hard, a relentless rhythm that pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed around him, muscles tightening in a wave of release, the climax ripping through you with a sweet, shuddering ferocity that left you breathless and utterly spent. In that moment, the world dissolved, leaving only the blissful aftermath of his mastery, the sweet torture finally giving way to a bliss that wrapped around you like a warm, comforting embrace.

As your body shudders around him, gripping him with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Sylus's thrusts grow more frantic, driven by his own approaching climax. The room fills with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

His movements become erratic, each thrust deeper and more urgent, as if he's chasing the very edge of his own orgasm. You can feel the heat building within him, a primal energy that seeks release, and you arch into him, encouraging him to finish inside you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Sylus groans deeply, his body tensing above you as he finds his own release. You feel the hot rush of his climax inside you, a flood of warmth that fills you completely, making you feel full. His body shudders, muscles taut, as he pours himself into you, the sensation a sweet, intimate mingling of pleasure and finality.

Sylus, his breath ragged, withdrew from your body with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent understanding passing between you. He laid down beside you, his body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, his hand gently caressing your sweat-slicked skin, his touch tender and possessive. He peppered kisses on your lips, cheek, forehead and neck before settling next to you.

Both of you lay across the bed, chests rising and falling in sync, the aftermath of your "struggle" leaving a lingering heat in the air. The sheets are a mess beneath you, tangled from the chaos of it all. Your limbs feel heavy, aching from exertion, but there’s still a stubborn pout on your lips as you turn your head to glare at Sylus.

��Not fair!” you huff, breath still uneven. “I should’ve known you’d pull your dirty tricks…You owe me a new pair of shorts, by the way.”

He merely chuckles, the sound deep and rich, and before you can react, he shifts, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you flush against his side. His warmth seeps into your skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest oddly soothing despite everything. He squeezes you playfully, pressing his face against your hair as his laughter rumbles through his body.

“I could buy you a hundred new shorts if you wanted,” he murmurs, his tone amused.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight his hold. Instead, you melt into him, letting your body relax as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. His scent is familiar now, something dark and warm, laced with a hint of something uniquely him. It’s comforting, even if you’d never admit it out loud.

For a moment, there’s peace. Just the steady rhythm of your breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the ghost of a smirk still tugging at his lips.

Then, his voice, soft but teasing.

“I definitely wouldn't mind a second or third round if it ends like this every time. What do you say?” he says, his breath hot against your ear.

Your breath catches, and you pull back just enough to look at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The way his smirk deepens tells you everything you need to know.

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hauntedbysmut · 24 days ago

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#OH GOD BREEDER SYLUS

NSFW!! 18+ ONLY !!

Cw afab reader, breeding, impregnation kink, manhandling, belly bulge from cock ♡

Sylus takes you apart on his cock like a man playing an instrument. He knows all your tells, all your signs, all your spots like it's the back of his hand. Has spent hours on his hands and knees familiarizing himself with your body— using his hands and his mouth and his cock to see what has you fracturing for him in the most beautiful way possible.

With your legs on his shoulders, ankles hanging limply over his back and locked behind his neck, it certainly feels like this man was put on this earth for the sole purpose of taking you apart at the seams and putting you back together with each thrust and each kiss. His hands are broad and rough on your skin, borderline greedy as they dig into your hips, dragging your pliant body into each of his thrusts. He plays you like you're a doll, manhandling and moving your body to his whim, making your eyes roll each time his hips slap against yours.

You're so lost in the pleasure that he grants you that you hardly realize it when Sylus removes one of his hands from your waist, pressing it instead against your lower tummy, and pressing down slightly like he's trying to feel something, and you whimper.

His breaths are coming out in ragged pants, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but his eyes are glued to where his hand rests. He's so deep inside you— so deep, so hard, so thick that you're damn near losing your mind. You gasp when you feel his cock twitch, and groan against the hungry kiss that he presses against your lips.

“Here,” he grunts, lips brushing against your, eyes unfocused from the pleasure and sweat dripping from his brow. You swear that, in the low light of his bedroom, his crimson eyes glow with an unshakable hunger. Unshakable desire.

"W-what?" is all you can manage to gasp, barely able to cling to coherency with how he stretches you out on his girthy length. His hand insistently presses against your lower stomach again, and you squeal as he groans. He can feel himself under your skin, feel himself stretching you out just for him. "What do you—"

“This is where my baby is going to go." His voice is little more than a growl, now. Sylus' eyes meet yours— crimson pools, swirling with love, lust, and a promise. "This is where it’s gonna be when I fuck it into you, sweetie.”

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hauntedbysmut · 25 days ago

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*ೃ༄ valentine’s prompts ˚◞♡ ⃗

♡ “you didn’t have to go to all this effort just for me.”₁ “that’s why i did it. for you.”₂

♡ “i don’t know what kind of wine you’re meant to have with takeout, so i got both.”

♡ “could you have found a bigger teddy bear?!”

♡ “that’s more roses than i’ve ever seen in my life.”

♡ “flowers and a candlelit dinner?! have i swallowed a romance novel? did you?”

♡ “it’s not much, but i got you this.”

♡ “shush, i don’t want to hear it. you deserve all this and more, whether you believe it or not.”

♡ “you’re all i’ll ever want.”

♡ “i can’t believe you remembered this!”₁ “of course i did. you’re important to me.”₂

♡ “i could marry you right now.”

♡ “there’s nowhere else i’d rather be than with you.”

♡ “see, this is the true meaning of valentine’s day.”₁ “box wine and enough candy to kill a horse?!”₂ “you heard me.”₁

♡ “i wish every day could be like this.”

♡ “i think i deserve a kiss.”

♡ “you’ve never looked as beautiful as you do right now.”

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hauntedbysmut · 29 days ago

Text

It’s him

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hauntedbysmut · 1 month ago

Text

Caleb - Dark Desires

Tags: voyeurism, masturbation, mentions of violence (not against FMC), PIV, creampie

Full fic below the cut or you can take the link.

Darkness had fully blanketed Linkon by the time your hurried steps took you to your apartment building’s doors. A last minute mission with a particularly stubborn Wanderer had demolished your plan to get home early to call Caleb for your nightly chat. Taking another anxious look at your phone, the 8 missed calls and 13 unanswered texts from him glared menacingly from the apps on your screen. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck, knowing that the sheer number of notifications was a bad omen when it came to your rather unpredictable and possessive boyfriend.

Boyfriend. A new label he had given himself the last time he visited, not content to be introduced as a friend anymore, especially around your friends and other men. It wasn’t enough that he owned your mind and body, he wanted everyone to know it, too. Heaven forbid any coworkers saw you as a potential love interest. The thought alone made you swallow heavily.

Pressing the elevator button repeatedly in hopes it would come down faster, your heart began to pound for an entirely different reason. You had spent the whole day teasing him in between work missions. Knowing he was coming back from his own mission this afternoon, you’d had the bright idea to send him some tasteful nude photos you took this past weekend and rather sexual texts, all with the intent for him to see them as soon as he landed and was within range to receive them again. Build up for tonight’s call. Then work ran late… and here you were, trapped in the lobby of your building, praying to gods who probably weren’t listening to get you into your apartment as fast as possible.

The sudden ding of the elevator doors opening in front of you drove you to action and you quickly entered, pressed your floor’s number, and spammed the “close door” button. Your foot tapped nervously on the tiled floor as the elevator finally began its ascent, floors seemingly passing slower and slower the closer you got. Dashing from the elevator seconds after it landed on your floor, you ran down the hall to your apartment and jammed your finger onto the sensor.

“Error. Please try again.” Sighing heavily, you pressed your finger down more firmly.

“Error. Please try again.”

“Come ON!” Your frustration was beginning to boil over as you pressed your finger down one more time, rolling it back and forth lightly on the pad to get it to read. With the small chime of success and a quick press of the doorknob, you stumbled in your front door. The entryway light dimly lit your path as you hurriedly threw down your bag and unlaced and removed your boots. Free of your shoes and bag, you padded into your living room, stopping suddenly as a small gasp escaped your lips.

With only a light glow from his phone screen and the entryway light shining on him, Caleb sat menacingly in the darkness of your living room. The armchair he rested in belayed a comfortable relaxation, but his face was anything but. “Caleb?” You craned your neck to look at him more closely, taking a couple of steps forward in an attempt to see him better.

He was leaned back in the chair, still wearing his uniform pants, which you noticed were undone at the top, as if he had released the button to give himself more room to breathe. His bare chest and abs shone with a light red tint from the mingling lights, casting him in a sinister glow, the shadows playing against the divots and curves of his body, and on his head, his colonel’s hat rested as if he had just come off duty. The metallic glint of his right arm winked from the armrest while his left hand rested against his face, just below his lips. He was smiling. Your legs trembled. Even knowing him as he was now, intimidating and taciturn, he could still make your body react with primal fear at times when caught off guard. His eyes took you in, one detail at a time, resting on each part of your body as if looking for some grave injury or illness that may have caused your delay. Finding nothing, his eyes hardened further.

“Welcome home, pip-squeak. Long day?”

Your eyes were locked on his, watching for any change in expression or twitch in his powerful body. Your legs were tense and ready to run at a moment’s notice. When none came, you shifted from one foot to the other, crossed your arms protectively across your chest, and answered him. “I had a mission that ran long. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” You paused briefly for any reaction. Nothing. “I thought we were video calling tonight?”

He hummed briefly. “That was the original plan, wasn’t it?” He swiped on his screen and your eyes snagged on a familiar photo. Your mouth dropped open in shock. Noting your reaction, he continued to swipe through the nudes you had sent him today. Despite his slow perusal, his eyes were still on you, a predator watching his prey. “Bold of you to send me such sensitive information when I could have pulled these up by accident in front of anyone.” His eyes glinted as his head tilted toward his left hand, still resting against his chin. “What exactly was your plan for us this evening when you sent these pictures?”

Your tongue felt like lead in your mouth, and you swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “I assumed we could spend some time on a video call together.”

He quirked an eyebrow. His smile hadn’t faltered this entire time. Your stomach roiled with butterflies at the lewd thoughts you’d shared via text with him today. “You were going to make me watch?” His voice was so soft, but the undercurrent spoke of danger. Goosebumps broke out along your arms and his keen eyes seemed to notice.

“No?” Your uncertain tone coupled with an apologetic smile had his smile sliding off of his face.

“You’re lying, pip-squeak.” He closed the phone screen, pitching both of you into a deeper darkness. The entryway light’s glow was only so strong this far away. He shifted in the chair, leaning forward until his arms rested on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared up at you from under the brim of his hat. His eyes were so dark they looked almost black, pupils expanded over the usually brilliant purple of his irises.

“Caleb,” you whispered. Another tremor rocketed up your spine and he smiled with predatory intent as he noticed your light shaking. He was like a viper coiled to strike, and you, a harmless mouse, were about to become his meal.

“Scared?” He stood up slowly, taking deliberately measured steps toward you. Despite your instinct to step back, you stood your ground, tightening your arms banded in front of your chest and staring up at him defiantly.

“As if.” Your voice wavered slightly, and internally, you berated yourself for how weak you sounded.

His left hand moved toward your face, brushing a strand of hair that had come loose from your braid back behind your ear. His fingertips grazed your neck as he let his hand trail downward, and another small shiver moved through you at the gentle but intimate touch. Struck stock still, you breathed in short bursts as his head moved forward, leaning down to your neck rather than your face.

His quiet chuckle brushed your ear as his nose bumped your pulse point. He lifted his head and you could feel his lips moving against your earlobe as he whispered, “Such brave words for such a scared little bird.” His left hand came up to snake around your waist, pulling you in closer to him, your feet making stuttered steps as he dragged your torso closer to his own.

You squeezed your arms tightly with your hands as the pressure of his body increased against yours. Much like his evol, Caleb was like gravity, ensnaring you in his orbit whether you wanted to be or not. His face continued its sensory trail along your neck and jawline before his mouth returned to your ear.

“Someone saw me open one of your pictures,” he began. Your eyes widened and a rush of air escaped your mouth. You turned your face toward him abruptly.

“What?!”

His eyes met yours, and they were flinty and hard. His voice was just as dark and angry. “Don’t worry, I made sure he wouldn’t see ever again.” You squirmed in his grip and untangled your arms, trying to push him away. His arm was like a steel band around your middle though, and you were unable to get any kind of distance.

“Caleb, did you kill him?” You searched for any kind of answer and when he didn’t say anything, you pushed against his chest again. “Caleb!”

His hands moved so quickly that you were unable to stop him before he gave you a couple of shakes, hands repositioned on your upper arms. “Nobody gets to see you like that but me. Do you understand?”

You shook your head and hit his chest with your fist repeatedly as you demanded an answer again. “Did. You. Kill. Him!”

Exasperation suddenly burst out of him, “Why do you care? He saw parts of you only I am allowed to see! Has someone else ever received those kinds of pictures from you?” He watched you closely to see if your expression would give the answer away. “Because if there are others, I want to know. NOW.”

You set your jaw stubbornly and shook your head.

His expression relaxed slightly. “Good.” He used his grip on your arms to place them over his shoulders, moving in as closely as he could be to your body. “You’re mine, pipsqueak. Say it.”

Despite the turmoil in your head, the knowledge that he had probably ended someone’s life just because they looked his way at the wrong time and had seen you, you couldn’t ignore the dark, twisted pull you still felt towards him. A single tear slid down your cheek at the realization that you were just as dark and twisted if you could still accept him like this. If you were still willing to be with him even if he would have you no matter the cost. He wiped the tear from your cheek with gentle precision, pressing his forehead against yours, his hat pressing up into his hair, and tilting his head back and forth while he waited for your answer. “Say it,” he murmured, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

You wished you were stronger, that this insane, unbreakable connection didn’t make you feel so out of control and trapped, but simultaneously totally whole. “I’m yours.” Your whispered confession brought his lips down on yours, the previously curbed affection bursting forth like a freed bullet, piercing your heart. You had lost him once. You knew you wouldn’t survive that again. You would take him in any form. If that meant accepting the new darkness that seemed to surround him, you’d do it. Neither of you would be alone ever again.

Your mouths met over and over in a frenzy, and in an effort to appease him, you opened your mouth and touched your tongue to his lips. He groaned into you as his tongue met yours, his dominance rising as he pressed into your mouth with reckless abandon. His hands were firmly locked around your back, bodies flattened against each other as you held on to his neck, legs straining as you pressed onto your tip-toes to be as close to him as possible.

He gave you a sudden nip to your lower lip and shoved you backwards onto the couch. Your arms slapped into the cushions as you braced yourself on impact. “Take off your clothes.” He stood above you, fixing his hat back onto his head. Eager to obey, you pulled at your clothes, unbuttoning your pants and shucking them down your legs, snagging your underwear with them. You peeled your socks from your feet and then ripped your shirt off over your head. Your clothes flung around the room as you hastily discarded them, bra following, Caleb stepped back to the armchair, sitting back down and resuming the position he had been in when you came home.

Panting and dripping across from him, you stared, waiting for his next order. You shivered in the sudden lack of his presence, cool air rushing around your body from your furious disrobing. Your nipples pebbled and strained into the semi-darkness. A brighter light flared to life in Caleb’s view, the screen of his phone lighting up the space marginally and causing your eyes to strain.

“Caleb?” You looked at him with confusion, a blush staining your cheeks red as his right hand clicked a few buttons on his screen.

“Since you wanted me to watch, I’m going to watch.” His smile caused your stomach to flip flop.

“Why is your phone on?”

“Because I’m going to record you.” You inhaled suddenly, pulse sky-rocketing at the implication. He let his eyes drag along your damp, tensed body, and dragged the pointer finger of his left hand through the seam of his lips. “That way, whenever I can’t be with you, I can watch you make a mess of yourself while you scream my name and know that I’m the only one who gets to do this to you. The only one who can touch you or watch you fall apart.” His hand fell from his lips and squeezed his cock through his pants. The dark outline of his length strained against his pants, the tip just below the edge of his underwear, peaking out of the unzipped crotch. “I’m going to direct you, love, and like the good girl I know you are, you’re going to listen, aren’t you?”

Without letting you respond, you watched as his right hand pushed the red record button and swallowed heavily. This felt so wrong, yet so hot. Getting to see how you affected him, knowing he would use this video later to touch himself and come all over his hand watching you, turned you on so much. A little moan slipped past your lips as the mental picture of him stroking himself roughly to your video played in your mind.

“That’s it, baby.” His encouragement reminded you of your new mission, and you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Sit all the way back on the couch.” You shifted until your back was against the cushions, legs slightly dangling off the ground. “Now pull your feet up until you’ve got them both on the couch in front of you.” One leg at a time, you pulled your legs up until they were folded in front of your body, acting like a barrier between his eyes and your naked flesh. “Shift your feet outward a bit so I can see that pretty pussy.” You could feel your cheeks flaming at his request, knowing your wet lips would soon be visible to the camera and his greedy eyes. You dragged one foot out a few inches before repeating it with the other, letting your knees fall together in the center and biting your lip. Your face felt so hot, and the weight of his gaze on you was like a palpable force, even with him being feet away.

He groaned as he shifted, the brush of fabric against fabric your only hint that he was moving at all. “Spread your knees, baby.” You tucked your head against your chest, taking a deep breath, then gradually letting your knees fall apart. Caleb licked his lips. The way your arms were positioned next to you pressed your breasts together. A subtle pink tint warmed your skin with a mixture of your arousal and embarrassment, and the camera’s light gave your moistened lower lips a gorgeous glow. “Fuck, look at you.” His voice was like crushed velvet, so soft and supple it felt like a caress against your heated skin. “Take two fingers and drag them through your lips for me.” With a full view of his face, watching as his eyes took you in, your excitement mounted. You took a hand and dragged it across your stomach, knowing his ears were picking up every hitched breath, every tiny response your body made, even as his hand squeezed his erection erratically. You wanted to make him lose control.

Even though he hadn’t told you to, you let your other hand shift up and grasp a breast, eyes fluttering shut as you palmed it and then squeezed a nipple between two fingers. Your other hand continued its quest downward, playing in your curled pubic hair and spreading over your labias before you dragged them back up to your pubic bone to slide between your cleft together. The brief stimulation over your clit as your fingers moved made your knees twitch, and as you whined, Caleb hissed through his teeth. You dipped your fingers into your soaking hole, spreading the slick up and down your lips.

“Oh yessss…” He was mesmerized as you pulled your fingers out before plunging them back in. He sat up a little straighter, hand still gripping his dick through his pants, eyes locked on your fingers, even as your back arched from the stimulation you were giving your breasts. “Show them to me.” The need in his voice made you clench on nothing, the noticeable absence of him sending several pleasurable clenches through your core. You lifted your hand and spread your fingers, the fluid on them shining in the low light and stretching between them. You watched as his hips bucked up against his immobile hand, control beginning to slip away as he was riveted by your show. His right arm clenched the armrest as if to keep him from moving toward you, anchoring him in place. A thrill of power despite your submission sang through your bones, and you brought the fingers to your mouth, licking deliberately between them before popping them both into your mouth and sucking them clean.

You knew that this was a dangerous game. At any moment, he could snap and be on you, but for now, you internally celebrated the hold you had on him. Knowing he wouldn’t last much longer, you plunged your fingers back down into your cunt, pumping hard and fast and moaning with abandon as you gave yourself over to the pleasure. Your other hand continued to squeeze and play with your breasts as you fucked yourself with your fingers. The wantonness of the act made you feel bold and uninhibited. You let Caleb’s name slip from your mouth as you added a third finger. You could feel the build-up increasing and decided to go fully in with both hands, redirecting one to your clit while the other thrust in and out of you. The spray of your own fluids against your thighs and Caleb’s answering growls and moans drove you higher and higher until it felt like you were on the edge of a cliff. With a concentrated effort, you took the leap, strumming and stroking until you knew you were screaming his name, just like he wanted.

Caleb strangled his cock as your cries trailed off, fingers wet and shining as you ceased your movements. The shine of the camera light and the sheen of sweat on your skin created an incredible glow. You looked radiant. Sitting up fully, he pressed stop on the video and turned the phone screen off. He stood quickly and turned on the lamp next to the couch. Your eyes blinked blearily up at him, a satiated smile gracing your face as he looked down at you, naked and unashamed, bathed in the pleasure you had taken for yourself by his command. He dropped to his knees, reaching out to stroke your face with his left hand, pulling your right hand up to his mouth and licking your fingers clean.

“You’re so beautiful,” he moaned around your fingers. “So incredible.” He grabbed your other hand and began to lick it clean. “So sexy.”

His reverent expression gave you a new satisfaction. You reached for him, even as he pulled back, shifting to sit on his heels. His hands worked to pull his dick out, pushing his pants and underwear down to his knees. The swollen red tip leaked pre-cum and the new light showed the wet spot on his underwear as they disappeared down his legs. He reached out and grabbed your hips, pulling your ass to the edge of the couch cushion. His frenetic energy had you gripping his arms as best you could, a brief shock of knowing pinging through your pleasure-addled brain. You wanted him to lose control. His pupils, despite the brighter light, were blown wide, and you knew he was lost.

He shifted back up onto his knees and with a quick adjustment, plunged his full length into you. You cried out in surprise, unprepared for such a sudden intrusion, despite having come only minutes before. He drove a hard pace, using his leverage of your hips to shove you down onto him as he bucked up into you until you were halfway off the couch, fingernails digging into his arms as you held on for dear life. He fucked you like a man possessed. His eyes never left where you were joined, watching as his cock shone with your slick on each retreat only to disappear to the hilt as he shoved back in. The angle of the position had him driving up into your g spot on each press upward, and a strange pressure built that you had never felt before. He released one hip to press down on your lower stomach and you screamed as the change in sensation became sharper and more insistent.

“Caleb! Fuck!” You tried to breathe. Tried to warn him of what you thought might be coming, but it was too late. All reason, all sense fled your body as you seized along his cock, body tensing and squeezing as your eyes rolled back in your head and a feeling like none you had ever experienced short-circuited your brain.

Caleb watched in awe as your pussy pushed him out, squirting all over his torso. He looked up to see you convulsing against the couch, hair plastered to the sides of your face and mouth open on a silent scream as your dripping hole clenched on air. A roar of primal pride bolted through his brain and he shoved his now dripping dick back inside of you, pressing your legs further back into your chest, moving to half standing, and unleashing himself. All he could think about was the tight squeeze of your cunt, the fucked out look on your face, and the recognition that you were his.

He leaned forward and kissed your lips. You tried to kiss him back, but found it hard to focus after the barrage of pleasure you had just endured. It didn’t take long for him to lose rhythm and come inside of you, his whole body alight with you and the tight clutch of your body on his.

Both of you were panting hard as he lifted you into his arms, still buried inside of you, and turned so he was sitting on the couch. He draped you against his chest, kissing your forehead and wiping the sweaty strands of hair away from your face. Your skin slicked against each other as he shifted to get comfortable. His heart pounded beneath your ear and you knew yours kept the same pace.

“Caleb?” Your voice sounded weak and thready, even to your own ears. You coughed to clear your throat a bit more. He chuckled. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, pip-squeak.” He pulled you as close as he could, arms tight against your back and you felt him sigh in contentment. His head bent down to your ear and his voice was suddenly darker and more intense. “You’ll always be mine.”

#caleb smut #caleb x mc #caleb x you #caleb x reader #love and deepspace caleb #lads #lnds #love and deep space #l&ds #lads caleb #lnds caleb

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hauntedbysmut · 1 month ago

Text

Sylus - The List

Tags: kink exploration, praise, fingering, cunnilingus, fellatio, light bondage, overstim, blindfold, marking, p in v, creampies, aftercare

Inspired by the café interaction when you touch Sylus's dick (pictured below)

Full fic below the cut, or you can take the link.

Part 1

MC: where are you right now?

Sylus: about to walk into my house

MC: there's a little something waiting for you.

Sylus: color me intrigued

Walking through the halls of his home, Sylus runs a hand through his hair. This night has been long and full of dead ends. There's not much that can make him smile in a mood like this, but your texts have him curious.

Standing outside of his bedroom door, he listens at the crack, scarcely breathing to see if he can hear anything inside. Knowing you, anything could be waiting for him behind that door.

He turns the doorknob and pushes the door in, standing in the doorway and scanning the room for clues of your "surprise." The last surprise he found in his room was a screaming plant that acts as an alarm clock. He thoroughly enjoyed putting that in the twins’ room and listening to the outraged shrieks when the plant began its morning wailing.

Seeing no obvious signs of pranking, a single folded piece of paper on his bed catches his attention. He opens it and chuckles as he begins to read. "'Number one, be kissed on every inch of my body,'" he chuckles lowly. "Oh kitten, if I recall, you're meant to read this list to me aloud." He turns his head and glances toward the open door where you lean against the door jamb in a sheer black robe, peeks of a lace bra and panty set just visible through the gossamer fabric.

"Just wanted to make sure that you're well prepared. After all, a hunter is not passive."

"I admire your courage," he purrs, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He holds the page out to you. "What prompted this bout of writing inspiration?"

You quirk an eyebrow and pad over to him, gently taking the note from his hand. "You mentioned that you've had a rather disappointing day. I wanted to cheer you up."

Slowly, Sylus reaches out and slides his hands around the backs of your knees, dragging his eyes from the soles of your bare feet up your legs to your outfit, pinching the bottom of one edge of your robe and rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. His eyes continue their upward sweep, missing nothing. The silent tension between you builds, and your heart begins to pound in your chest. He's barely touched you and you're practically vibrating with excitement. His eyes finally meet yours as he gently pulls you in to stand between his knees.

"Go on, kitten. I'm listening." His eyes spark as they lock with yours, and a flood of heat rises to your cheeks. A sudden rush of nerves activates and your mouth goes dry. "Don't tell me you've lost your nerve," he teases.

With a shaky breath, you give your head a little shake and straighten your spine. "There you go, sweetie." He gives you a soft squeeze on the back of your knee in encouragement.

"Th-this is my list-" you begin.

"Your list of what, kitten? Tell me."

Another shaky inhale. "A list of things I want you to do to me." He hums quietly and smirks. "And things I want to do to you," you whisper on an exhale. His thumbs lightly swipe across your knees as he gives you a slight nod.

"Go on." His carmine eyes smolder up at you as you glance back down at him. His fingers still distractedly swiping along your legs, traversing your exposed skin. You close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation of his skin on yours. Your pulse pounds beneath your skin, echoing through your body and into your core. Sylus pauses his movements and prompts you again, "Kitten? You were saying?"

You slide your eyes open, focusing on the feeling of the paper in your hand. With slightly trembling hands, you begin to read. "Number one, be kissed on every inch of my body." You take a deep breath, reaching down inside of yourself for your confidence. "Number two, have him mark me. Number three, mark him." You glance up at Sylus. His chest is moving faster, his breaths quickening as you read. Your eyes widen slightly at his obvious response, and you swiftly look back at your page, your voice stronger. "Number four, get on my knees and let him use my mouth." He groans and you allow yourself a brief smirk. "Number five, be blindfolded or handcuffed -" you pause and look him in the eyes and whisper, "or both."

Sylus's gaze burns into yours. It feels as if he's touching you with his intent. It's then that you notice his hands are completely still, frozen on your legs. Breaths heavy, the tension sits like a bow stretched taut between the two of you. Each waiting for the other to speak. Finally, when it seems as if the tension is so great that the room is going to implode, Sylus speaks. "Do you have a safe word in mind?"

Your heart, which had already taken up a furious beat, pounds even faster, and you push your thighs together tighter, trying to create friction to ease the ache that has taken up residence between your legs. Sylus's hands flex against you, still holding your knees, no doubt noticing the shift. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking back up at you. You nod. "Use your words, kitten. I don't know how much more patience I have in me at the moment." His voice has deepened into an almost growl in his need.

"Crow," you say. "That's my word." Sylus gives you a little smile before his face becomes serious again.

"Say it," he whispers. "Say you want this - want me."

Your heart clenches with his request and you drop the page and place both of your hands on either side of his face, stepping as close as you can be to him while he sits below you. Looking directly into his eyes once more, you promise, "I will always want you, Sylus." His eyes flash with emotion and then he's hauling you into his lap, his lips against your collarbone as you straddle his legs. Your hands tangle in his hair as your head falls back, letting him kiss and suck along your throat. "Sy-" you moan. He nips at your ear lobe, pulling your face down to meet his lips with yours. There's nothing slow or soft about this kiss. Sylus devours you wholly and you can do nothing but give yourself over to the passion, grinding down against him as your nails scrape against his scalp. His groans spur you on further, and his hands begin to roam freely across your body, pushing your robe apart. For a moment, the clash of tongues and lips pauses as you both focus on removing as many articles of clothing as you can from each other.

Sylus tears the robe from your shoulders as your fingers clumsily push his shirt buttons through their holes. As the robe is pushed from your shoulders, Sylus briefly holds your arms hostage behind you, pressing your shoulders back and forcing your chest out. His lips latch onto the swell of your breast and he bites the soft skin there, leaving a light red mark. He bends back and looks up at you, "Number two." You whine and push against him, feeling the wetness of your panties as a breeze moves between you. You pull against your restrained arms and push your chest further into his mouth.

"Sylus, please."

His mouth latches back onto you, sucking harder until a dark red mark is left behind. "So beautiful with my mark," he murmurs.

He releases his hold on your robe and you slide your arms free, pushing your fingers into his half-unbuttoned shirt and forcing it outward over his shoulders until buttons start popping off. Sylus's dark chuckle fills your ears as he breathes against your neck, "So hasty, kitten."

You growl and nip his neck. "Want to feel your skin on mine."

Once his shirt is off, you lean away and push him back until he's laying on the mattress. His dark eyes follow your movement as you lean in, tracing lightly over his stomach, exploring each indentation of his abs before you let your tongue swipe lightly across a nipple. His hands grip your hips, digging in as you continue to lathe his chest in licks and kisses. "Mine..." you murmur against his skin.

Sylus brings a hand up to the back of your head and pulls your hair gently until you're looking back up at him. His eyes are blazing. "What did you just say?" You pull against his hold, wanting to go back to his chest, but he tightens his grip. His eyes search yours. "You know what I want to hear, sweetie," he says softly. He pulls against your scalp lightly again. "Say it."

"I said... you're mine."

His eyes search yours for a moment, and then he pounces. Sitting up abruptly, he pulls your head in and busies himself with removing your bra, tongue caressing and stroking against yours as his passions overflow through you. Once your bra is free, his mouth travels along your jaw and back down your neck. He bites into your shoulder and releases your hair, planting a hand on your spine and the other palming your right breast. "I'm yours and you're mine," he snarls into your ear. His mouth is like fire as it trails along your collarbone, moving to your nipple and sucking hard.

Suddenly, he pushes you backwards off of his lap. "On your knees, kitten." He smirks at you as you immediately drop to your knees. "So eager? Then show me number four." He leans back on his hands, the picture of elegant repose. With hasty fingers, you begin to pull at his belt, undoing the buttons of his pants and pushing against his hips, which he lifts for you to pull both pants and boxers off in one go. You fling them away from you and push in between his legs, his length engorged and pulsing beneath your gaze. You look up at him as you lower your mouth toward him, and his eyes follow your tongue's every movement as you wet your lips and drag it across the crown of his dick, catching the bead of precum leaking from his swollen head. One of his hands reaches out and strokes along your cheek. "That's it, kitten." He moans as your tongue continues to explore him, tracing the prominent veins on his shaft, your right hand trailing along his adonis belt while your left holds him in place. Pushing down further, you take him fully into your mouth, pulsing along his length and taking him as deeply as you can. His moans and groans are music to your ears as his hands reach to help keep your hair away from your face. You look up at him occasionally to see his eyes on you, slitted and fighting to stay open as you lathe pleasure upon him. "Fuuuuccckkkkk, sweetie."

He sits up, pushing his hips up and his dick further into your throat. you gag briefly and he moans, gathering your hair into a loose ponytail at the back of your head. "Where do you want it?" His breaths are sharp, punctuated by the slight thrusts of his hips as he chases his orgasm. "Tap once for yes," he orders. "Tits?" your fingers clench on his thigh, but don't tap. "Face?" No tap. He exhales slowly, his face straining as he pushes the words out, "Does my dirty kitten want me down her throat?" A quick tap and he drops his head back and groans deeply. His scarlet eyes refocus on you as he brings his head back upright, and his hands slide gently to the sides of your head, still holding your hair back from your face. "Two taps if you need out, love," and then he's thrusting into your mouth, pushing into your throat, holding your head gently as he unleashes himself on you. Tears prick at your eyes with his fervor, but you hold on, determined to ride him out. With several final, brutal thrusts, he pushes in as far as he can and the warm burst of his seed covers your tongue. You swallow him down greedily. His thumb strokes across your cheek as you pull back, a soft pop emitting from your mouth as you release him. "Such a good girl," he purrs, pulling you up to your feet. You smile blearily at him and he gently wipes the tears from the corners of your eyes.

His lips quirk, and that is your only warning before you're suddenly on your back, Sylus above you. "Allow me to repay the favor," he grits out, pushing his lips against your neck. His lips and tongue make their way down and across your chest, laving each nipple before they are each pinched lightly between his fingertips. He continues to make his way downward, giving every inch he moves over licks and nips before reaching the edge of your panties.

Sylus breathes deeply, his nose brushing your lower belly as his eyes close in bliss. "Like the sweetest ambrosia," he whispers.

"Sylus, please," you whimper, squirming beneath him. His lips mouth against the line of your panties, fingers stroking along your inner thighs, just below where your need is heaviest. You push your hips up toward him and say again, "please..."

"Use your words, sweetie." He punctuates his words with a long, slow lick from the top of your panties to your belly button, his eyes sparking with desire as he watches your responses. You prop yourself up on your elbows, whining as he makes no move to continue lower. "Tell me what you want," he demands, licking again in the same spot and blowing lightly, causing gooseflesh to prickle your skin.

"I want your mouth," you grind out.

Sylus chuckles, "Want it where?" His teasing tone and tertiary lick have you drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. You reach for his head and try to push it where you want it, but he resists.

You growl in frustration. "Fuck me with your tongue, Sylus," you snarl.

He chuckles again. "That's my girl," he praises, and rewards you with a long lick against your covered mound. He groans deeply. "Drenched for me, aren't you?" Your answering moan gives him all the encouragement he needs. He licks you again and again, your soaked panties sticking to your lower lips.

"Sylus, inside, please," you beg. A finger hooks into the side of your panties, pulling them to the side and he slides another finger between your folds, gathering up some of the slick leaking from your sopping hole and feeding it directly into his mouth. You watch him with hooded eyes, breathing hard. He winks at you and leans back down, flicking your clit with a single lick. With that single motion, you are lost.

Sylus circles your clit with single-minded focus, pushing a finger inside of you and pressing against the fleshy patch at the top front of your pussy walls. He slips another finger inside, and your voice rises in pitch as he forces pleasure from your body. He watches your reactions and adjusts to spiral you higher and higher. Just when you're about to reach your peak, he pulls back, stilling his fingers inside of you. "Sylus?" He hums, acknowledging your question but not giving you an answer. He pulls his fingers out, licks them clean, and slides your panties off completely, but makes no move to leave his post between your thighs. You can feel your body relaxing again, coming back down, and you watch as he seems to wait for something. Without warning, he pushes two fingers back inside of you and presses the heel of his hand against your clit, leaving him free to watch your face as he brings you to the apex of your orgasm again. Again, he stops just before you reach your pleasure, and you cry out in frustration. "Sylus!"

He gives you a sensual smile, "You want to come, don't you, kitten?"

You nod vigorously. "Yes, please, Sylus, I want to come," you plead. "You're so beautiful when you're this needy.” His eyes take in each of your shaking muscles as your body's tension betrays you. His ruby eyes slide back to catch yours. “Don't worry, love, I'll give you what you want."

This time, as his tongue and fingers work you up again, the pleasure feels brutal, as if it is firing off every nerve ending at once. You don't even know what sounds you're making anymore, but Sylus's sounds of encouragement drive you higher and higher until it feels as if you're strung so tight you'll break in two. When your orgasm crashes through you, your vision blacks out and you can distantly hear yourself screaming his name. As consciousness returns to your senses, you feel Sylus kissing your hips and up your stomach, murmuring praises of how well you did and what a perfect little toy you are for him. Your lips pull up into a lazy smile, and a deep satisfaction thrums through you.

Sylus strokes your face gently with the backs of his fingers. "I'm not done with you yet, sweetie. I need you to tell me if you can still go on. A simple yes will suffice."

You nuzzle into his fingers and kiss them, reaching for his face to pull him in. "Yes," you agree, kissing him deeply. He moans into your mouth as you kiss languidly, some of the earlier urgency sated. Your arms wrap around his shoulders as one of his hands rubs his cock through your slick pussy lips. You both look down to watch as he pushes the fat head into you, slowly inching inside of you. Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in, and the two of you groan in unison as the last couple of inches sink fully inside of your body. He presses his forehead to yours, pulling back until just the tip remains before lightly thrusting back in all the way.

"So lucky," he whispers against your lips. "So lucky to find you again." You don't understand what he means, but the pleasure of his body with yours is a language you can understand.

Your bodies speak with perfect understanding. Incoherent words and praises fall from his lips, but it is as if your soul can hear them anyway. Your lips clash together and break apart again and again, languid strokes turning sharp and demanding. As the pleasure builds inside of you, his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as your bodies and souls meld together. Sweat drips from his forehead to yours, and the salty taste of his skin permeates your senses as your lips and teeth meet his shoulder, leaving marks of your own on his skin. "C-coming," he groans, fingers finding your clit to push you over with him. You cry out and scrape your nails against his skin, no doubt leaving bloody trails where they travel. "Fuck!" Sylus thrusts a few more times, and as you feel your own wave of pleasure crash down around you, his shout of bliss twines with yours and you ride it out together.

Panting and sweaty, his head rests in the crook of your neck, tongue reaching out to swipe up your unique flavor as he hums in satisfaction. You lay boneless beneath him, hands still clasped together. You turn your head and kiss his forehead gently, letting your lips rest against his skin as both of you slowly come back to the world.

"I love you," you whisper, and you can feel his lips curve into a smile against your throat.

"What I feel for you is stronger than love, kitten," he replies, and you smile to yourself.

"Would you say your day has improved?" you wonder aloud.

He chuckles and pulls his head back to meet your eyes with his. "It's leaning that way." He presses his hips further into yours, reminding you that the two of you are still very intimately connected. He kisses you and you can feel his seed slipping out of you as his body shifts. You smile up at him and see the love you have for him reflected back at you in his gorgeous red eyes. His hair is disheveled, plastered to his forehead in some places from his efforts. You smooth it back away from his face and he turns to kiss your palm.

"It was a very bad day," he teases, thrusting against you. You can feel him hardening inside of you again and you shift your hips into his, making him groan quietly.

"I see I'll have to double my efforts," you tease. "Good thing we have all night."

Part 2

Sleep is reluctant to leave you as your groggy eyes peel open. You smack your lips and try to wet your dry tongue. A small pool of drool sits in the cleft between Sylus's pecs as you lift your head in search of water. Briefly disgusted with yourself, you quickly wipe the drool away and wipe your hand on the sheets around you. As you shift above him, Sylus mutters beneath you, his arm, looped loosely around your waist, tightens to keep you in place. You feel sticky and hot everywhere your skin is plastered together. Signs of a good night, I suppose, you chuckle wryly to yourself, noting the soreness in your muscles and between your legs. Unable to shift further, you cross your arms over Sylus's chest and rest your chin on them, looking up at your lover and studying the smooth, angelic face of his sleep riddled form. As you admire the strong lines of his jaw and the markings along his neck and chest from your mouth and nails, the memories of last night begin to replay in your mind.

“I'm so glad I told you to write this list,” Sylus pants as he thrusts into you from below. What started out as him demanding you ride him turned into him using his evol to bind your hands together behind your back and securing a sleeping mask over your eyes. His hands on your hips keep you steady as you push down to meet him over and over again. You've lost track of how many times you've come. Sylus is insatiable when it comes to milking orgasms from your body, and you're powerless to resist him. With a particularly brutal thrust, you drop forward onto his chest, a steady stream of moans falling from your kiss-swollen lips. Without looking, you know that you'll have hickeys across your chest and the insides of your thighs. Sylus is nothing if not thorough in his mission to mark you as his. Unable to hang on with anything other than your legs and with Sylus continuing his assault on your cunt, you mouth at his neck, nipping and sucking the skin in and adding to the growing number of your own marks that you've been cultivating through the night. The brief shine of dawn has begun to light the edges of the room around the night black curtains, but to the two of you in this pocket of shared time, it means nothing.

His fingers find your clit between your bodies and you cry out at the mixture of pleasure and pain that the swollen nub's stimulation brings. “Sylus, I can't!”

“You will,” he growls. “You’re my good girl, and you're going to give me everything I ask for, aren't you?” His whisper is vicious. All you can do is nod and cry against his shoulder. You know you could use your safe word at any point, but the possessive lust-fueled haze you've both been in for the past few hours feels too good to let go of. Sylus would never hurt you, and while his words are aggressive, he has watched you all night to make sure you aren't pushing your body too far. His attentiveness makes you tear up further as he wrings another orgasm from your body before his own staccato thrusts lose rhythm and you feel more of your combined essence leaking from between you. The shaking in your body goes on longer than before. Sylus releases his evol's hold on your wrists and immediately begins peppering your sweaty face with kisses and smoothing your ratted hair back from your eyes. Your body is jelly.

“Love?” he whispers, kissing near your ear. “Are you still with me?” His hands smooth down your back and massage your shoulders, easing the ache from their previously restrained position. You nod weakly against him and he mumbles in a somewhat distressed tone. Gently, he holds your neck and rolls you onto your back and off of his chest. He untangles the hairs looped into the sleep mask and pulls it from your head. Immediately, he gets up and grabs a glass of water from his drink cart. Your heavy eyes blink slowly readjusting to the lights in the room and watching as he fusses. He briefly leaves your sight and distantly, you hear the sound of running water. Sylus returns to your side and, in the same whispered tone, checks in with you, “Can you sit up for me?” Your tired arms move to meet his request, pushing uselessly against the mattress as you attempt to sit up. His hands join you and with some maneuvering, he shifts you to lean against the pillows and headboard. “You need to drink, sweetie.” The cup touches your lips and you open them, gulping down the water greedily as a sudden intense thirst grips your throat. Sylus chuckles indulgently, “Slowly, kitten, slowly.” You empty the glass and feel more human. His hands continue to gently touch your face as his eyes roam your body. The fucked-out expression you wear has pride lighting in his eyes. “I'm going to carry you to the shower.” You groan in dissent and he smiles at you. “None of that, kitten. Just a quick rinse and we'll get you into bed.”

With a bit of sass rising to the surface, you grumble, “I thought that's where I've been all night.” Sylus laughs and you can't help the smile that stretches your cheeks. With a huff, you raise your arms to loop around his neck as he lifts you easily into his arms and pulls your legs around his waist. The soft sound of the falling water in his shower once again registers in your ears and he walks directly into the spray, having already adjusted the temperature for maximum comfort. You rest your head on his shoulder as he uses one hand to keep you in his arms and the other pumps out soap from the dispenser along the wall. In blissful silence, he gently soaps your shoulders and back before probing into the cleft between your legs. He pulls your legs from around his waist and sets them on the floor, still holding you tightly to keep you upright. As he soaps the front of your body, he kneels and softly cleanses your inner thighs, tenderly washing your intimate parts that are still highly sensitive. As he kneels, you rest your hands on his shoulders and watch him, love and joy swelling in your heart at the care he takes with you. He looks up at you and smiles, a single quirk of his lips that has your heart skipping a beat. Rising to his feet again, he quickly washes himself before rinsing both of you off. Stepping from the shower, he pulls two towels from the towel warmer he keeps in his bathroom, a luxury you were all too happy to take advantage of each time you visited, and wrapped you up in it, patting your skin dry as you curled against him.

The silence between you was warm and comfortable, and as soon as you were both dried, your eyes fighting to stay open, you were cradled in his arms, carried to his bed and laid gently amongst the sheets. Sylus turned all of the remaining lights off before quickly sliding in next to you, pulling you back on top of him and rearranging you as he liked until the steady thrum of his heart beat beneath your ear and you could fight off the sleep no longer. In your final moments of consciousness, you heard the contented sigh that Sylus breathed as his lips pressed against the top of your head.

The memories subsided as Sylus's even breathing and peaceful countenance reminded you of your present. Scooching up his body as much as you were able, you reached out and brushed his hair away from his eyes, gently tracing his cheekbones with your fingertips as you admired him. He grumbled at your touches and without opening his eyes, one of his hands reached up to grab yours, pulling it to his lips and kissing your knuckles. “Mmm, good morning, kitten,” his sleep roughened voice filled your ears. He pulled your open palm back to his cheek and nuzzled against it, pulling you in as he did until your face was just above his.

“Good morning, Sylus,” you replied, voice soft. With little warning, his hands framed your face and he pulled it into his shoulder, nuzzling against your neck and licking the shell of your ear.

“Mmmmm,” he hummed in content. “You smell like me.” His face pressed fully into your throat as a grin split your face and a giggle escaped your lips.

“Are you hungry?” you teased.

You felt his answering grin just before gravity shifted and your back pressed into the cold sheets. You arched into him with the sudden cold. He groaned. “I'm always hungry, love,” he chuckled darkly, nose tickling as it skimmed your neck. You hummed and let your head fall back, loving the sleep-heavy weight of him on top of you.

Feeling his interest beginning to rise, you pressed your hands against his chest and tutted, “Hold on, big boy. Before we go again, I need actual food.” Sylus nipped your shoulder in response but lifted his body off of yours and smiled down at you.

“We can't have you starving to death now, can we, sweetie?” He leaned in and kissed you softly on the lips, lingering and kissing you several more times before groaning loudly and pushing himself up to the edge of the bed. You admired the lines you had left on his back and shoulders as he got up and pulled a pair of boxers onto his legs. He grabbed one of his shirts from the closet and came back, holding out his hand for you. “Let's go. Before I change my mind.” His hungry smile had you jumping up from the bed and slipping into the shirt he offered, taking a deep breath of his smell before taking his hand and leading him toward the kitchen.

“Don't worry, Sylus. We have our whole lives ahead of us. You can ‘feast’ any time you want,” you winked and smiled at him over your shoulder. His soft answering smile melted your heart and as you skipped into the kitchen where the twins were holding their heads and grumbling about “noisy couples” over their cups of coffee, your soul had never felt so full.

#lads #lnds #love and deep space #l&ds #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #sylus smut #sylus #lads sylus

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hauntedbysmut · 1 month ago

Text

Couldn't leave well enough alone, so it now has a second part. 😅

Sleep evacuated you in a rush as you sat up abruptly, looking around your deserted bedroom with exhausted, confused eyes. An oversized t-shirt, one of Caleb's old ones that you typically slept in, draped across your torso, and a pair of familiar cotton panties adorned your lower half. Your room looked exactly the same as it had last night. Rubbing your eyes to clear them of the sleep-haze that made your vision blurry, you checked each corner of your room carefully, scanning for any signs that last night hadn't been a wildly lucid dream. The only clothes on the floor were yours, the desk was untouched, and overall, everything looked exactly the same as it had before. The balcony doors were cracked open, creating a cool morning breeze through the room. Rubbing your fingers over your wrists, Caleb's dog tags were gone, if they had ever been there to begin with. A dream… Tears began to pool as the thought hit you with devastating clarity.

“Caleb?” The whispered plea sank into the carpeted silence. Flinging the blankets off of your body, you stormed over to your desk, pulling open the drawer you had hidden his dog tags in. You dug through the contents, hunting for the envelope you knew it was stored within. The tears ran hotly down your cheeks as you began to throw things out of the drawer, screaming in frustration as the envelope continued to evade your discovery. In a fit of unrestrained rage, you pulled the drawer from the desk and threw it across the room, sinking to the floor as it smashed against the wall.

That was where he found you, limp and teary on the floor in front of your desk. Kicking his boots off and putting the groceries on the counter of your kitchen and following the sound of your gasping cries, he rushed to your side and pulled you into his arms. “Pipsqueak!” His concerned tone pierced your sorrow and your arms snapped around his neck, legs locking around his hips as you frantically wrapped your body around him. His voice broke you further and you bawled into his shoulder for long minutes as he rocked you gently and rubbed your back and head with his hands. “What's wrong, love?” He nuzzled into the side of your head, dragging his face through your hair and inhaling your scent as you clenched your limbs around him to pull as closely as you could make yourself.

“You were gone again,” you wailed. “I thought last night was a dream.” He chuckled lightly into your hair and nipped your earlobe.

“I just went to get us something to eat for breakfast. Your fridge may as well be a wasteland for all the food you have.” He continued to grumble about you having a jar of pickles and a series of almost expired sauces as you breathed him in, letting the solidness of his body and the cadence of his voice lull you back into a sense of calm. As the tears began to clear and you sat up further to look into his face, arms still draped around his shoulders, you took in every detail of his face that had been hidden in the dark of the storm last night. His familiar purple eyes crinkled with new lines at the corners, and light, barely visible scars on his right cheek drew your hand to gently trace the curvature of his jaw and cheekbone. His voice trailed off as he realized you weren't listening and his eyes followed yours as they continued to trace his features. A glint of metal at his throat drew your gaze and you pulled until the familiar weight of his dog tags lay in your open palm. You closed your hand around them and looked back up at him, meeting his curious eyes with your own. His thumb wiped the remaining moisture from your eyes and his mouth curved up. “So dramatic,” he teased, pinching your cheek lightly.

“What was I supposed to think when I woke up all alone?”

“Maybe trust your own mind to know what's real and what's a dream?” He surveyed your room again. “I see you took out your frustration on the desk.” He sighed. “I cleaned up when I woke up this morning, as we made a bit of a mess. My boots were muddy after standing in the rain and climbing your building, which I tracked in. Then I figured I'd air the room out a bit after how stuffy it felt in here. You were shivering, so I put you in some clothes.” He looked back at you. “You didn't notice any soreness or… wetness when you woke up?” His eyebrow quirked upward as you shifted in his lap, taking note of the brief twinge when your hips stretched against his. As if on queue, the breeze from the doors brought your attention to a dampness along your innermost thighs. A blush rose to your cheeks and you looked away with the realization. His chuckle rumbled against your chest. “A little late to be embarrassed, love.” You pushed against his chest in annoyance, moving to stand before his arms locked you in place.

“Pervert,” you grumbled as you struggled. He tucked his head into your neck and nipped your exposed shoulder.

Your squirming in his lap was getting the attention of another part of Caleb's anatomy that was increasingly drawing your attention the longer you did it. Without thinking, you began to grind down on him, letting your eyes drift closed as you slowly rode him.

Caleb's eyes were riveted to your face. The glow of morning light lit you with a soft radiance as you chased your pleasure in his lap. Your quiet moans filtered through his ears and his hands itched to move, to take control, primal instincts screaming at him, even as he fought to stay still, enjoying the show you were giving him. With your hands planted on his shoulders and your head tilted backward, neck displaying some of his marks, he found it entirely too easy to believe that he had died and gone to some form of heaven. The gentle grind of your hips against his pants gave him a perfect blend of pleasure and pain, edging him as you began to push down harder and faster, breaths increasing in frequency as his hands shifted down to your hips to steady you. Your mouth hung open slightly, and Caleb found that his own lips were parted as if to take in your sounds from the air and make them his own. As your pace became more frantic and rushed, Caleb couldn't take his eyes off of you, praises and heavy exhalations falling from his mouth.

“Look at you. Like a goddess in this light. So gorgeous,” he groaned. “Take what you need, love. Take everything.” His words were like an aphrodisiac, driving you higher and higher as your body moved of its own accord. Your orgasm tore through you with devastating intensity and you screamed Caleb's name into the gentle morning air, riding out the pleasure as his hands continued to flex against your hips, fisting in your shirt. Caleb was frozen beneath you as you leaned in to kiss him gently, humming with satisfaction.

His thoughts were spinning a million miles an hour with a singular thought: you. He wanted to be inside of you again. He wanted to see the combination of your fluids leaking out of you. He wanted to be the only thing you could think about, feel, or smell for days. Weeks. Months. He wanted to consume you. Watching you take your pleasure had driven him into a primal frenzy, and before he could think about it further, he wrapped his evol around your body, making you weightless and allowing him to stand from his seated position, carrying you to the bed where he sat on the edge, you still wrapped around him, now kissing along his shoulders and neck. He pulled the shirt from your body, another jolt of satisfaction going through him knowing it was his that you had slept in for months. He adjusted his evol to lift you from his lap, a squeak of surprise escaping you, to pull his own shirt off, pulling your underwear from your legs and quickly divesting himself of his pants and socks before lowering you back into his lap, moaning loudly at the feeling of your skin on his again.

“Caleb… mmmm.” Your honeyed voice caused him to thrust up against you, growling lowly with the motion. The cold of his mechanical arm sent goosebumps skittering down your spine. He released his evol and you felt the full weight of gravity bring you into contact with his most sensitive parts. The pre-cum leaking from his cockhead mesmerized you as you watched him rub between your reddened friction-swollen lower lips. Knees on either side of his legs, you rocked against him again, looking up from your almost connected bodies to his stormy purple eyes. His lips were parted and teeth clenched. You had a moment of confusion before his evol took hold of your body again, lifting you into the air as gravity released around your body. Holding his shoulders, you watched him line himself up at your leaking opening, gravity increasing again after he had himself where he wanted. The gravity continued to press you into him until he was sheathed to the hilt, his tip pressing almost painfully against your cervix. You whined as his fingers tightened on your hips again, pressing into the bruises he had left last night.

His legs shifted under you as he repositioned himself, the feeling of him inside you increasing incrementally as he did. “Hold on tight,” he growled. That was the only warning you received before his evol lightened you again before slamming you back down. He leaned back on his hands, watching as your tits bounced with every lift and drop onto his dick, a predatory satisfaction blooming across his face as you were manipulated along his length over and over again.

“Oh FUCK!” The sensations were so intense. The squeeze of his evol as you dropped causing butterflies to explode in your stomach as he bumped your cervix on each push down driving your mind into a fucked out bliss you had never experienced. His moans crescendoed with your own, his evol never faltering as you were thrust down onto his cock with no mercy. You felt like a rubber band, stretched to its limits, your inner walls seemingly melding to the shape of his length with each subsequent thrust downward. Pain and pleasure melded into one. The slight shake of his dog tags against his chest drew your attention and a possessive zing moved through you with the realization that he was once again wearing your gift. His eyes watched as your breasts bounced with each movement. As he leaned forward, barely audible words began spilling from his lips.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna make you mine. You're mine. Mine, mine, mine…” Each mine was punctuated by a sharp thrust.

“I'm yours, Caleb. All yours,” you couldn't help but say back to him.

His hands wandered your body, lips leaving a trail of fire across your skin. Both of you were straining toward your orgasms, the push and pull of your bodies a siren's song neither of you could resist. With a roar, Caleb grabbed your hips, released his evol and fucked up into you with abandon. You held on with everything you had, fingernails digging into his shoulder muscles as your vision blackened around the edges, consciousness fleeing your body as the final dive into pleasure took your breath. Distantly, you could hear the sound of both of your voices mingling together in bliss before everything faded from awareness.

As you returned to your body, you felt a gentle brush of fingers against your temple, a warm presence tucked against your naked back, a puff of breath against your shoulder, and heard a quiet series of sentences as Caleb eased you back to reality. “-good. Such a good girl. You're so perfect. Just like I remember you. Perfect for me. Perfect together.” He kissed along your spine as he spoke and you let out a hum of happiness. He pulled you closer to him, and you couldn't help but notice how perfect you fit into the curve of his massive body. His right arm was fitted beneath the pillow your head was resting on, while his left hand lay across your ribs, hand cupping a breast. “Made for each other,” he whispered.

You cuddled back into him, nodding against his chest.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, turning your head with light pressure to place a kiss against your lips.

You gave him a drunken smile. “Amazing. Fantastic. Phenomenal. Incredible. Per-”

“That's enough,” Caleb laughed, kissing you again. “You need to drink some water and eat something.”

You shook your head at him. “Not yet.” You turned in his arms to nuzzle your face into his chest. You kissed over his heart and then his dog tags. “If I fall asleep, promise you'll be right here when I wake up.” Caleb could feel your heartbeat pick up momentarily as you recalled the fear that had gripped you waking up alone.

“I promise, love,” he whispered into your forehead. “I'll be right here.” Your eyes closed as you succumbed to the heaviness.

When you woke up later, Caleb's heavy breaths made your hair shift and his heart beat steadily against your ear. Though sleep was no longer grasping you, you settled back in, content to watch him sleep and be safe in his arms until he woke once more. Welcome home, Caleb.

A humble offering for all of the Caleb girlies who have been waiting for months for gege to come home.

Full fic below the cut, or you can take the link.

Rain pounded the windows outside with a savage intensity. The roll of thunder and crack of lightning creating brief and blinding symphonies of light and sound. You sat on your bed, a blanket pulled around your shoulders, completely still even as the storm outside raged on. The turmoil in your mind matched the ferocity of the storm, yet your body was frozen in the moment, wracked with indecision and swirling theories that all coalesced into a single idea… He's alive.

The disbelief roiled inside of you once again as you reviewed all of the small moments you had witnessed in the last few weeks. Despite the explosion and death certificates proving his and your grandmother's death, a lingering awareness and familiarity had pricked your consciousness for weeks now. A quick peripheral view of a man with his build in the grocery you frequented, a flash of purple-hued eyes sliding past your view as you turned, a glint of his dog tags in the window of your room as you studied for your exams… all mere coincidence. Illusions brought forth by your mind to push you through the grief that still gripped you in your dreams. But lately, you had woken in cold sweats, swearing there were eyes in your room, watching as you slept, yet when you turned on the light on your bedside table, your room was empty of any other presence. Then there was tonight… a figure lingering just outside of view, stunning you into the stupor you found yourself in now, trying to rectify the continued hallucinatory visions your brain unhelpfully supplied you anytime you caught yourself thinking of him.

“He's dead,” you tried to convince yourself. “You're just wishing it was him.” You made eye contact with yourself in the mirror across from your bed. “Stop hurting yourself with these delusions!”

Another crack of thunder rocked through your room as the lightning lit up everything outside, and despite your verbal reprimands, you slid your gaze to the ground outside your balcony. As the light receded from the flash, a single boot caught your eye under a tree nearby. Your breath stuttered to a stop and your heart took up a furious beat. Eyes fixed on the point you had seen the boot, so familiar, yet surely not real, you stood slowly and moved closer to the windows, desperate for another glimpse. It felt like hours as you kept your vigil near the window, eyes beginning to water with how intently you focused on that single point of potential. Finally, another bolt of lightning lit the sky and the area was once again flooded with singular light. The boot was still there. You stumbled backward, tripping on your rug and landing harshly on your tailbone, hand flying to your lips in a gasp.

No, it can't be. Can it? The tornado of your thoughts narrowed to a single thought of desperate hope. It HAS to be him. He came back for me.

Using your bed for leverage, you pulled your shaking legs underneath you once more. Taking timid steps back toward your balcony door, you threw the doors open, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders again, tighter this time. With the doors open, the storm's fury became a roaring soundtrack for the sharp beats of your heart in your chest. You stood in the gap of the door, rain pelting the ground in fat drops around you, splashing onto your face and hair and quickly soaking your socks. With a pointed stare at the figure beneath the tree who remained out of view, you slowly backed into your room. “If it's really you, come out and show yourself,” you whispered into the darkness.

You pulled the socks from your feet and rearranged the blanket to cover your hair, making a cocoon for your impending breakdown when it was inevitably not him. You pulled your feet onto the bed and laid down, eyes fixed on the balcony's edge, waiting… for you didn't even know what. After an hour of nothing, you rolled to your other side, letting the tears pool in your eyes and begin to run down your face. Just another illusion… Pulling the blanket as tightly as you could around yourself, you turned your head back to the balcony for a moment, and a well-timed lightning strike illuminated the tree. The boot was gone. Turning back to the wall, you curled into a ball and let the sorrow consume you.

Outside, the figure beneath the tree stepped forward, boots splashing quietly in the puddles of rainwater. Under the dark hood of his jacket, his head tilted back to look at your open balcony doors. Judging the distance from the ground to your balcony ledge, he stretched his frozen fingers and silently jumped, gripping it and beginning to pull himself upward. As he hauled his body closer to you, he could feel the excitement of your reunion pulsing in his bones. The staccato beats of his heart matched the silent chant he recited, each thump a resonance of your name in his consciousness. As he quietly pulled himself over the rails, he stood, mere feet away from you, as he had been for weeks, watching, waiting, so close he could swear you saw him several times, but too obsessed with being close to you to care if you found out he was alive. His superiors would be pissed, but they could go to hell for all he cared. The only one who mattered was you… You, whose frame wracked with your cries. A smile curved his lips as he imagined you were crying for him, as he fed into the feeling that the two of you were meant for each other, false siblings hiding a deeper connection all this time… and he was tired of pretending. Tired of waiting.

He had made sure you got home safely every night since his return. Watching you go about your life with a listlessness that was so unlike you. He told himself it was due to his absence, that you had felt as deeply for him as he does for you, despite no feelings ever being shared aloud. Every experiment, every ounce of pain and anguish, every nightmare and dangerous mission, he pushed himself to endure for you. To get right here. To get back to your side.

One step and he was at the frame of your balcony doors, the gauzy curtains stirring in the wind. You didn't shift even slightly. Two steps and he was inside of your room. He was in awe that you didn't hear his harsh breaths or his heart beating as loud as a freight train in his chest. Three steps, and he could reach out and touch you if he wanted. His fingers grazed the blanket you used as armor slightly, and he held in a groan, thinking back to how he used to soak in your scent any way he could whenever you were near him. He breathed in deep, letting the familiarity of your space soak into him and relax him. It had been far too long since he had been allowed to touch you, but that would all be rectified soon enough. Tonight, he would show you he was yours, and make you irrevocably his. No more waiting.

The awareness of eyes on you had you wiping your tears away, trying to shake the feeling as you had so many times before. It felt heavier this time. Like the brief moment of hope you allowed yourself had put you right back to the day you lost him. A shuffling sound had you turning your head toward the balcony once more. As you turned, you saw the shadow of a massive figure next to your bed. Flinging the blanket from your shoulders, you rolled off the bed and grabbed your firearm from the underside of your bed frame, kneeling and pointing it at the intruder with deadly accuracy. The stranger didn't move. Their face hidden by a dark hood and standing as still as a statue.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” you demanded. The stranger chuckled and you narrowed your eyes. Sounds so familiar… You shook your head and refocused. “I asked you a question. Answer me.”

Your mouth dropped open as the spectral figure spoke with the voice of your best friend, “What? Don't you recognize me… Pipsqueak?”

You stood, keeping your gun aimed at him even as your body began to tremble. “Caleb?” you whispered.

He raised his gloved hands slowly and pulled the hood from his head. His dazzling smile hit you first as you greedily scanned his face to make sure it was him. “I would hope you don't leave your balcony door open for just anyone to climb through,” he teased.

The shaking was taking over all of your limbs. You dropped your gun, thankful for a brief second that you hadn't taken the safety off, as your hands covered your mouth and your eyes filled with tears again. Your legs gave out from underneath you as you dropped next to your bed again. Caleb was instantly in motion, rushing around to your side of the bed before kneeling before you and taking your head into his hands. You flinched at how one seemed to be far colder than the other, but couldn't take your eyes off of his face. His amethyst gaze pierced you through the heart and you threw your arms around his neck, body wracked with sobs for the return of your dearest friend. He embraced you, tucking his head into your neck and inhaling deeply.

“You were dead! I have your death certificate. How?” You pulled back and pushed his chest back to see him better. “How?!” Disbelief and sorrow was shaping into anger as you pushed him again, forcing him back onto his heels. “How long have you been alive?” You pushed him again and stood abruptly, creating distance all of a sudden. His eyebrows furrowed at your sudden change. Why were you moving away from him?

You paced near the wall for a few minutes while he watched you, not offering a single answer. You turned and pointed at him, hand on your hip and fire in your eyes. “You were dead.” You repeated. “I have your dog tag and a death certificate with your name on it. That was all that was left.” His eyes were so intense. They never left you as you worked through the confusion of his reappearance. His lips didn't move even as you continued to throw accusations his way. “Did you fake your death? What about Gran? Did you give a shit that she died?” His shoulders tensed at the mention of her, but he still didn't move.

“Pipsqueak…” he warned.

The fire within you was an inferno now. You couldn't stop. “I buried your EMPTY fucking COFFIN, Caleb!” you yelled. He got to his feet. “You were dead!” You moved back over to him and pounded your fists against his chest. “Dead! Dead, dead, dead, dead…” your voice began to trail off as you continued to hit him with decreasing intensity. His hands came up to grasp your upper arms loosely. You dropped your head down and rested your forehead gently against his chest. Your arms dropped until they hung at your sides. The two of you stood like that for minutes, silently taking in each other's presence. Caleb sucked in deep pulls of your scent, his cock stirring as his hands tightened reflexively on your arms. Fuck, he had missed you in his arms.

You pulled away out of his hold again, moving to your desk as the quiet of the room was interrupted by another thunderous crash. You pulled open a drawer and rifled through papers before pulling a small envelope from the back of it. You opened it and a slight clink sounded as the contents fell into your palm. You stormed back over to him, grabbed his hand and dropped it into his palm. He stared down at his dog tags as you took a step back and crossed your arms over your chest. A sudden pulse of anger snaked through him as he looked back up at you.

“Why are you giving this to me? I left it for you,” he said. His body was still, muscles tense.

“That necklace has haunted me since you died,” you murmured roughly. “It was never meant to be mine. It was yours, and every day since you disappeared from my life, I have debated getting rid of it, one way or another.” He stared you down, brows furrowing. “I wanted to melt it down, or throw it into the sea…”

He took a step toward you that you mirrored with a step back. “You would throw me away so easily?” His voice was low and dangerous.

Your eyes filled with tears again. “I'm not the one who threw someone away, Caleb.” A tear slid down your cheek.

His mind reeled. You thought he left you. On purpose. He scoffed, but your face remained unchanged. He moved toward you again and you shook your head no. His gaze hardened, and he continued into you, backing you against the wall. Stubbornly, you kept your eyes cast downward and arms crossed. “Pipsqueak…” he tilted your chin up, even while you avoided his gaze. He grit his teeth in frustration. “Look at me.” He shook your chin lightly. Your shocked eyes met his and he smirked inwardly. “I would never leave you by choice,” he whispered. Your breath shuddered out as his eyes flicked and then zeroed in on your lips. “You're all I have left.” His thumb slid against your lower lip as your eyes fluttered. His body tuned into yours like a radio frequency. He could feel his careful control slipping as your proximity intoxicated him. He closed his eyes and leaned in until his body was aligned with yours. Every breath from his mouth trickled against your skin, his nose dragging across your cheek and down your neck. You could feel his pulse pounding against your chest.

“Do you know what I thought about all that time away from you?” he whispered. His tongue slipped out and made a short path from your neck to your ear, tracing the outer curve. You shivered beneath his attention, twitching against him with nowhere to run. You briefly shook your head no, feeling paralyzed in place as he continued to touch you lightly. Your head, for once, was blessedly quiet, even while the storm continued outside.

“You,” he whispered. “I remembered all of the things we used to get up to as kids, all of our adventures,” he paused, “and misadventures.” His lips dragged against your skin as he spoke, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Your body felt like a livewire of feeling, each tiny movement he made a spark of electricity traversing your nervous system and lighting you up with heat.

“What else?” you whispered, eyes closing as you let your head tilt back against the wall.

Caleb smiled against your neck before continuing. “I thought about your laugh, your fiery passion for hunting, your… sass.” He chuckled darkly and one of his hands slid to your waist as his tone dropped to velvety softness. “I thought about the woman you became over our lives together. Your strength, your tenacity, your… assets…” he ended on a hiss, pushing back away from you and pacing the room. His control was dancing a razor's edge. His eyes were as dark as the storm clouds outside as he flexed his hands at his sides. His gaze finally moved away from you, voice louder and more urgent. “I thought about your eyes and the way your lips quirk up when you tease me. I thought about how I never got to hold you the way I wanted to or tell you how I really felt.” He was speaking in a frenzy, as if he couldn't get the words out fast enough. You were frozen against the wall. His temper seemed to be rising now, and like prey in a trap, you knew not to push your predator further.

His purple eyes snapped back to yours as yours widened at his words. “I watched you these past weeks.” His voice was deadly soft again as he began moving back toward you with a stillness that sent you shaking again. “As they tore me apart and put me back together, I thought about how your skin would feel against mine.” Dropping his dog tags on your bed, he pulled his gloves off, one finger at a time. “Or what's left of mine…” Your eyes dropped to his hands as he dropped his gloves.

“Caleb…” you whispered as the metallic shine of his right hand caught your eye. He raised it up, tilting it back and forth in the dim light. Lightning illuminated his hand and eyes at the same time, and for the first time, you felt a flush of fear release into your veins. Is this my Caleb? The thought occurred to you suddenly, and you tensed involuntarily at the thought.

He noticed your sudden change in demeanor and tilted his head to the side, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Did you honestly think I would always be the kindhearted boy from your childhood?”

The air felt like it was sucked from your lungs as the tension in the room grew to a fever pitch. “My time ‘away’ changed me, Pipsqueak,” he rasped. “But it didn't change one major thing.”

Your voice came out weak and thready, “What's that?”

“My feelings for you.”

His declaration was punctuated by a particularly deep rumble of thunder. The lightning that followed flashed through his eyes, making them look almost grey, dangerous.

“Caleb… What did they do to you?” He made no further move toward you. His whole countenance had changed. He was hard and unyielding where he had once been soft, and it felt like a punch to the chest as you began to notice more of the changes in his demeanor. He had looked the same at first glance, and your initial astonishment at his reappearance and subsequent anger had taken any observational skills you had honed and thrown them right out the doors he had climbed through. My Caleb. Your desperation for answers drove you forward. He stood stock still and waited for your assessment. Your hands reached out and began to pull at his hoodie. You took the hem, including his shirt, and began to pull it up, revealing inch after inch of his skin, toned muscle and a litany of scars entering your limited view as lightning gave you small peeks at the destruction he had undergone from the explosion that you thought took him from you. He helped you peel the wet fabrics from his body, and as his full torso flashed in the light, you felt tears slip down your cheeks once more.

The entirety of his right arm, fused to his shoulder, was made of metal. The skin of his right side, near his new arm was puckered and smooth in variation, the scars creating a tapestry of destruction where there was once unmarred skin. His muscles flexed as you ran your fingertips against the new skin that had grown where it had previously been flayed by fire from his bones. You cried silently as he let you continue to mark his differences. The metal was flexible, and he shifted the fingers of his metallic hand silently to show you the movement.

He could scarcely breathe as your fingers danced across his skin. Your touch was like a balm to his soul, even as his mind screamed for more of it. His heart and head took up the chant again, pulsing, mine, mine, mine, mine, as your tears cleansed some of the anger he felt before, soothing his fragmented soul. He wanted to touch you. To soothe you the way you were soothing him, even though you weren't aware of it. As your hands worked their way up to his neck, turning his head different ways to look at all sides of him, the possessiveness he had been clinging to forced its way forward. Taking your tearstained face in his bare hands, he wiped your tears from your cheeks. “Pipsqueak, I was always going to find my way back to you. Something as trivial as death would never stop me. It doesn't matter what I went through to get here.”

You turned your head into his hand, lips grazing his metal palm. “I missed you so much, Caleb.” Your teary eyes met his and with a last sob from your mouth, he pressed his forehead to yours.

With a gentle kiss to your cheek, he murmured, “I will never leave you again. Let me show you how permanent we are.” Your brief but fervent nod is all the answer he needed as he finally pressed your lips together. It was a light kiss and it unleashed something in both of you as you suddenly gripped each other more tightly and clashed together again. Lips and tongues began an aggressive dance, parting and meeting faster and faster as a frenzy began.

“Caleb,” you moaned into his mouth. You put your hands around his neck as you pulled him down against you. His answering groan had him pulling you up, hands hooked under your thighs and lifting you to nestle against him. Your mouths slotted together again and again. Caleb moved a hand to your neck, notching his fingers around your ear and against the back of your neck so he could move your head to his liking. Your fingers gripped his hair, pulling against the dark, soft strands. The heat racing through your veins turned to liquid between your legs, pooling against the fabric of your panties as you sought more. More touches. More friction. More Caleb. He was as needy as you are, as his hand against your hip tightened around your back and his hips canted up against your inner thighs, rapidly hardening length getting more and more difficult to ignore. His hips continued to move as your lips broke apart. You kissed his jaw and down his neck, sucking his skin and biting until your mark was against his skin. His moans echoed in your ears and his thrusts against you became more pointed.

“Need you,” he groaned. You moaned in response, kissing across his shoulder and collarbone. He turned you both to the bed and pushed you away from him until you bounced onto the center. You shifted to your elbows as you watched him undo his belt and push his pants down his legs. As they pooled around his feet, he grumbled, annoyed as he pushed his boots and socks off of his feet before his legs could be freed from his pants. His thick erection strained against his boxers and your mouth watered at the sight of him. It occurred to you that you're still fully clothed, and you urgently pulled your shirt from your body, pushing your own pants down and off your legs, leaving you clad in only your simple cotton panties and bra. Caleb stared at you, lust a raging swell of fire in his eyes. Your own rapid heartbeat filled your ears, even as shards of lightning blinked him in and out of your vision in bright clarity, before plunging you back into the soft darkness. The light wind blew through the still open balcony doors and tightened your nipples into peaks. A shiver wracked your body and Caleb moved to the doors, closing them tightly and locking them again. “Don't need you freezing to death before I get a chance to touch you,” he muttered as he came back to the bed.

The shiver that took you now was pure anticipation, and you reached out for him at the same time he moved his knees to the bed, crawling up to you. Placing his hands on either side of you, he leaned in and kissed you, the urgency tempered, but not gone. He shifted backward and took a long look, dragging his gaze from your bra down to your clothed pussy, noting the growing damp spot. You pushed your legs closed, noting his gaze, and a blush rose to your cheeks. His attention shifted to something else on the bed momentarily, and your confusion showed in your eyes as he lifted the dog tags back into view.

“I left these for you to wear, not discard,” he said, his voice a sharp reprimand, a contrast to his softness moments ago. Once again, you're reminded of how he has changed since you last saw him. He shook his head and smiled at you, but it is a sinister feeling that creeps into your spine, rather than a feeling of warmth. Your arousal cools slightly. A strange shift in the air had your body flattening onto the bed. Caleb pushed your hands above your head and the heaviness in the air grew, pushing them down too. You looked up at your own hands, unable to move your torso or arms, and watched as he wove the chain of the dog tags around your wrists, binding your hands and arms together above your head. The pressure didn't let up though.

He is using his evol to restrain me. The cooling in your body ramped back up to a dangerous level as you let out a gasp, pulling against the sudden gravitational push that kept your body where he wanted it. “Caleb,” you whined, legs shifting around in an attempt to fight it off.

“That's better,” he smirked. He licked down your neck and across your clavicle before making his way down your breastbone, passing your breasts entirely to continue his wet kisses down your stomach. Breathless moans passed your lips as you could only follow his downward movement with your eyes, squirming your hips. He settled himself between your legs, pushing your knees apart before kissing over the fabric covering your mound. “Fuck, you smell good.” He nosed against the wet spot and you keened loudly.

“Caleb!” He dragged his tongue along the spot next, groaning into your covered cleft as he lapped at your wetness.

“Waited so long to taste you,” he growled. His lips and tongue danced along the outside of your panties, pushing against your clit through the fabric. You tilted your hips against his mouth, trying to gain the right kind of friction. Caleb looked up at you, his purple eyes practically glowing. “Don't make me restrain your legs.” Your whine made him redouble his efforts.

His tongue was persistent, but you want more. “Please, Caleb. Touch me. Please.”

“Such a good girl, begging for me,” he practically purred. His fingers pulled your panties to the side and his hot breath ghosted across your bare cunt. “Good girls get rewarded.” His tongue dove back in and you cried out at the change in feeling. He tongued at your clit, two fingers trailing through your slick before pushing into your clenching channel. The pressure on your chest kept you from arching your back and moving the way you wanted to. He scissored his fingers in and out of you as your pleasure built, thrusting against the bed as his cock leaked pre-cum. He felt like he was going out of his mind with pleasure just from how responsive you were. The taste of you on his tongue was like nothing he'd ever tasted before. Even in his dreams of you while he was away, he never could have imagined you like this. He flicked his tongue rapidly as your pussy clenched around his fingers and his need grew even stronger. Your mewls of pleasure drove him higher and higher with you until he was thrusting against the mattress and groaning with you, watching your every expression. With a gush of fluid, you came all over his fingers and he moved his mouth down to scoop your cum onto his tongue with his fingers, the taste of you sending him over the edge. He shook as his cock twitched from his orgasm, his fingers stuffed in his mouth and licking them clean.

He looked back up at you and the blissful smile on your face made his heart quake with happiness. This was the way it is supposed to be. You and him. Together. Forever. He pulled your panties down your legs and released the hold his evol had on your chest. Your arms remained restrained above your head, and a primal part of him rejoiced at the fact he had your cum in his mouth and his tags wrapped around your wrists. A wild urge to fill you full of his cum gripped him and he groaned at the idea of seeing it dripping from your holes, covering your gorgeous body in it until you were absolutely covered in him.

You smiled at him lazily, feeling sated but still hungry for him. “Let me go?” You pleaded. “I want to touch you too.”

“Not yet, love,” he said, voice filled with promise. “First, I get to have my wicked way with you.” He grabbed the center of your bra with his cybernetic arm and with a hard tug, the fabric separated and fell from your body. You gasped at the pain of the fabric burning against your skin as it broke but his mouth was immediately there to soothe the pain, kissing and nipping along your breasts, sucking your nipples into his mouth with renewed fervor, and driving your body back into pleasure.

Sitting back on his heels, he pulled his underwear down his legs. It is only then that you noticed the strings of cum that pulled away with his boxers. “Did you…?” your question trailed off as the thick globs of his obvious pleasure became more and more evident. The thought of him coming just from licking you set you writhing beneath him once more.

His cock now freed, he straddled your chest and moved upward toward your head. “Clean me off?” You nodded your head enthusiastically and licked your lips in answer, straining your neck upward against your restrained arms to get closer to him. He chuckled darkly and pushed up until his cock was right above your mouth, a string of cum leaking off the side that you greedily stretched your tongue to reach for. His ragged breathing filled your ears as he pushed his semi-hard dick into your lips and you moaned around him. A hand went to the back of your neck to support it as you bobbed against him, tongue lathing his cock and bringing every drop you could find into your mouth and swallowing it down. He rocked your head slightly against him as you sucked him clean and you could feel him hardening again. “I'm not done with you yet,” he growled.

He shifted back down between your legs, hooking yours over his hips as he slid his cockhead through your folds. “You're so fucking wet…” His eyes locked onto yours and his voice took on an edge, “and it is all for me.” He started to thrust the head into you. “Look at me while I take you,” he demanded. You keened and bucked your hips against him, pushing against him, but you met his eyes, and the possession shining back at you made your skin break out in goosebumps. “I'm the only one who gets to see you like this, aren't I?” His voice was still hard and when you nodded, he pulled away. “Say it, love.”

Your throat clenched as you pushed out the words, “Yours. All yours.” Your heart sang with the declaration. Finally saying the words out loud freed the burden you'd carried since his supposed death.

With your verbal confirmation, he gripped his cock with his metal hand, reaching up with his other hand and threading his fingers through one of your restrained hands. “Don't take your eyes off me for a second, do you hear me?” You nodded and the two of you looked down as he gently fed his cock into your seeping hole. Your moan and his groan twined together with the gentle thunder that still filtered through from outside as you finally came together. Caleb pressed his forehead against yours, your hands clasping each other's and eyes searching as he made his first few shallow thrusts. Breath mingled and sweat slid together, but your eyes did not falter. You saw the depth of his emotion burning in the violet swirls of his eyes, and as his pace increased, your eyes fluttered, but held on his.

With a quick adjustment, he pushed your legs further up with his hips until your knees were bent up to your ribs, forcing him deeper into you until you could feel him hitting your cervix with each push inward. The drag of his cock felt even more intense as the new positioning gave him full access to pound your g spot. As the pressure grew, so too did the noise in the room. Both of you were lost to the pleasure, wordless sounds streaming from your mouths. Your lips met and parted aimlessly, eyes closing every so often as pure sensation took your breath and he bestowed it again through open mouthed kisses. “Give it to me,” he groaned. “Come for me, love. Look into my eyes and give me all of you.”

Tears pricked your eyes as emotion swelled within you, your climax ascending at an unprecedented rate. “With me,” you begged. “Come with me.”

“I'm with you,” he said, running his free hand through the sweat slicked hair of your forehead. “Together.” With several more brutal thrusts, your peak took you over and you screamed his name as he continued to work you through it, roaring his release and filling you with his seed. The tears leaked from the corners of your eyes and his evol dissipated, your arms able to pull down closer to your head as you curled inward, overcome by the sudden flood of feelings that came with your release.

Caleb wrapped his arms around you, cock still lodged deep within your walls and wrapping himself fully around you. “I'm here, love, I've got you. You're not alone anymore,” he whispered into your hair, “I'll never leave you again.”

You shook and let him hold you, gripping his arms with his dog tags still wrapped around your wrists, and letting yourself soak in his warmth. Here. He's here. You reassured yourself over and over that this wasn't a dream. You rubbed your face against his chest and your tears subsided with the gentle strokes of his hands. A peaceful glow settled over the two of you, your heartbeats settling into a singular rhythm.

With a sleepy yawn as you cuddled further into his arms, you let yourself believe that he was finally home and the sounds of the rain and his deep breaths lulled you both to sleep.

#caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb x you #lads #lnds #love and deep space #l&ds #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #caleb smut

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hauntedbysmut · 2 months ago

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A humble offering for all of the Caleb girlies who have been waiting for months for gege to come home.

Full fic below the cut, or you can take the link.

No, it can't be. Can it? The tornado of your thoughts narrowed to a single thought of desperate hope. It HAS to be him. He came back for me.

Your mouth dropped open as the spectral figure spoke with the voice of your best friend, “What? Don't you recognize me… Pipsqueak?”

You stood, keeping your gun aimed at him even as your body began to tremble. “Caleb?” you whispered.

“Pipsqueak…” he warned.

“Why are you giving this to me? I left it for you,” he said. His body was still, muscles tense.

He took a step toward you that you mirrored with a step back. “You would throw me away so easily?” His voice was low and dangerous.

Your eyes filled with tears again. “I'm not the one who threw someone away, Caleb.” A tear slid down your cheek.

“What else?” you whispered, eyes closing as you let your head tilt back against the wall.

Your voice came out weak and thready, “What's that?”

“My feelings for you.”

His declaration was punctuated by a particularly deep rumble of thunder. The lightning that followed flashed through his eyes, making them look almost grey, dangerous.

You turned your head into his hand, lips grazing his metal palm. “I missed you so much, Caleb.” Your teary eyes met his and with a last sob from your mouth, he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Caleb!” He dragged his tongue along the spot next, groaning into your covered cleft as he lapped at your wetness.

His tongue was persistent, but you want more. “Please, Caleb. Touch me. Please.”

You smiled at him lazily, feeling sated but still hungry for him. “Let me go?” You pleaded. “I want to touch you too.”

Tears pricked your eyes as emotion swelled within you, your climax ascending at an unprecedented rate. “With me,” you begged. “Come with me.”

With a sleepy yawn as you cuddled further into his arms, you let yourself believe that he was finally home and the sounds of the rain and his deep breaths lulled you both to sleep.

#lads #lnds #love and deep space #l&ds #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lnds caleb #caleb smut

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hauntedbysmut · 2 months ago

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Imagine this but with Zayne.

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hauntedbysmut · 2 months ago

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Overc*mming Writer's Block 3

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕

♱⋅── zayne x reader

♱⋅── about: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. Partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

♱⋅── word count: 10.8k holy

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, bondage, oral, pussydrunk zayne, PRAISE kink, breeding kink, actual sex this time, no more blue balling, nightly rendezvous card

art credit to @/chimmyming on X

“So, you and Dr. Zayne?”

You damn near choke on your salad. Coughing, you place your fork down before turning to glare at Anvi. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smiles, as if that was confirmation enough. “I’ve heard a thing or two from hospital gossips—“

“Vi, you are the hospital gossip.”

“—that the cold, yet steaming hot doctor was finally seen accepting the company of someone else. Not to mention at the gala last weekend he was by your side all night long. Or so I was told.”

Anvi leans in, smiling wide enough to burst her pretty face as you scowl down at your lunch, unable to meet her eyes. Fighting to keep your voice even, you nudge her off, stabbing a carrot. “You’re ridiculous. I’m not involved with Dr. Zayne, he’s too—“ Attentive? Intelligent? God don’t think of him eating you out right now. “He’s not my type.”

You feel your ears burn, but by the grace of some god Anvi doesn’t seem to notice. Pouting she sighs and sinks back into the cafeteria booth. “Aww man, I was really rooting for you, too.”

“Rooting for a nonexistent relationship?”

Anvi’s about to say something, big doe eyes almost frantically darting between yours before she huffs and shakes her head, something akin to pity tightening her smile.

You raise a brow but she only shrugs, going back to picking at her lunch. “Just as well, a relationship between a resident and her boss would be quite the juicy scandal. Something straight out of a romcom, no?”

Laughter rips from your chest, the sheer irony of both her words and your reality too much to bear. Anvi’s windshield wiper giggles join your own, and soon the two of you are wheezing under your breath as you get side-eyed by the other surgeons trying to enjoy their lunch.

Really, whoever your author was had a fucked up sense of humor.

But the moment is ruined by the buzz of your pager, and you barely say bye to Anvi before you’re rushed to the operating bay.

As of today, you have two days to finish your manuscript.

Today's shift was exhausting, but you’ve learned early into your career that writing is a discipline, and as fickle of a muse as inspiration is, a writer cannot simply wait for her to grace you with her presence. Whether you feel like it or not, this book has to get done.

Besides, what better mindset was there to churn out unhinged shenanigans than when you’re delirious and half-asleep, tucked away in the on-call room?

Okay, so perhaps not the best place to be, but logically if your shift finished only minutes ago and you had to page in at five AM yet again, you’re better off just staying here rather than driving back to your apartment and all the way back to the hospital again.

Opening your personal laptop, you tab onto your novel's draft, the flashing cursor taunting you as your editor’s comments blur into an overwhelming mess of red. While you’ve worked your way through just about half of her six-thousand comments, that still leaves far too many, especially on your novel’s villain slash love interest as the trope always goes.

You’re halfway through cutting cringey dialogue on a specific scene, but your thoughts keep drifting. Your conversation with Anvi keeps playing in your mind— romcom, dating, scandal, boss. You suppress the heat rising in your chest, trying to ignore the reality you really don't want to face.

Zayne is… too much. Too intelligent, too caring, too perfect at catching you off guard.

Shaking your head, you try re-focusing, but between sleep deprivation and the realization that you haven’t actually done anything physical with Zayne for nearly a week, you get far too distracted.

It’s not that you haven’t seen him since the gala. Far from it, really. Nearly every night if your shifts happen to end around the same time, he offers to drive you home. And when your shifts don’t align, you always make the effort to cook something together, breakfast or dinner, at ungodly hours of the morning or evening. And if neither of those happened, you would watch a movie, at least for a few minutes till one or both of you fell asleep on your ratty couch.

God, you’re a fool. You can’t help but want him by your side even now, loving the way he reacts to your inappropriate comments, loving the way he scoffs at your jokes, loving the way he notices even the most minute things about you. And yet there’s a distance you can’t explain, a growing space you’re both too afraid to fill.

You close your laptop with a soft sigh, rubbing your eyes as you lay back on the small cot, trying to block out the nagging ache in your chest.

Your phone buzzes from under the cot, and you glance at it absently. You nearly jump at Zayne’s icon flashing on your screen.

grumpy snowman: Under recent developments I’d like to inform you of two things. One, you are banned from the hospital all of tomorrow under strict orders by me. Two, I currently have Mr. Whiskers held hostage, and should you fail to return home by 02:59 I will be forced to perform pulmonary bypass puncture and stop his heart.

Dumbfounded, you stare at Zayne’s text, blinking in confusion. Did your sleep deprivation just hallucinate a text? Violently shaking your head, you look back at your phone with slightly spinning vision just to confirm that no, this was very much real and Zayne has very much lost it.

ms. author: Is this a threat?

Another text follows immediately after.

grumpy snowman: Consider it your last chance. Come back and save him, or else... this may as well be his final night.

An image sends then, your favorite calico cat plushy all tied up with what appears to be Zayne’s tie, dangling the poor thing as though being held hostage. Your gaze lingers for longer than it should on how Zayne’s hands look in the dim lighting of the photo, so busy trailing up the veins on his lithe fingers that you nearly miss his next text.

grumpy snowman: I’ve already called an Uber. It’s waiting outside.

You snort into the empty room, rolling to sit up straight.He’s the last person you’d expect to pull this sort of thing. It’s nothing short of ridiculous, but truly you don’t know the last time you’ve smiled this wide, and it’s precisely the distraction you need right now, especially if he’s already gone through the trouble of organizing it all himself. But like you’d go down without a fight.

ms. author: You’re being ridiculous, you’d never hurt Mr. Whiskers you devil. You don’t have the guts.

His reply is swift, almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: Do I now? Care to test that theory?

You can practically hear the smugness in his text, the playful challenge laced with a quiet but unmistakable sincerity. Your heart gives an unexpected flutter, the weight in your chest easing, if only slightly. Quite a villain, indeed.

You know what Zayne’s doing. He’s not just playing around; he’s pulling you out of your head, out of the self-imposed spiral you’ve yet again been retreating into. You’ve spent the better half of the week in it.

You bite your lip, considering your options. On one hand, you could brush him off—continue working, ignore the text, but something inside of you craves this attention. Craves his uncharacteristic ridiculousness. Craves the break from your mind that he’s offering.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head I’ll put an end to your tyranny myself.

Zayne doesn’t waste a second, sending only a single warning: Hurry.

You stand, grabbing your jacket and keys, and only then do you second guess this. The easy, safe choice would be to stay buried in your work, it would be to politely decline and place must-needed distance and formality back.

But for the first time in a while there’s something you want more than work, and as you slip out of the on-call room, the image of Mr. Whiskers hanging helplessly from Zayne’s tie is enough to pull you out of the hospital.

You push your front door open, the silence of your apartment making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The lights are off— odd, considering you could have sworn you left a lamp on. You always do, a force of habit since you live in a slightly less safe area of Linkon. Oh, the things you do for cheaper rent.

Pausing, your eyes scan the deceptively empty hallway and kitchen. Everything feels still, almost eerie, and your pulse quickens as you take your shoes off, right beside Zayne’s much larger dress shoes, to venture further into your apartment.

The faintest creak of floorboards makes you freeze. Your heart stutters slightly, the scare making you grip your chest as you whirl around, cursing out your cowardice. You’ve seen worse things wheeled into the ER. Please, get a grip.

You shake off the nerves just as your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking the silence once more.

grumpy snowman: You’re cutting it close. Five minutes before Mr. Whiskers meets an untimely demise.

You can't help the amused snort that escapes you, the tension in your body breaking.

ms. author: You really went this far? What now, villain?

The response is almost immediate.

grumpy snowman: It’s a matter of life or death. I hope you're prepared.

Another photo attachment follows—your favorite Christmas blanket thrown over the couch cushions in disarray, the faintest corner of Mr. Whiskers peeking out beneath it. The living room. You shake your head, muttering under your breath about the audacity of smug geniuses with far too much time on their hands.

You make your way to the living room in the dark, you flick on a lamp as you approach the couch. Lifting the blanket to find… nothing but a sticky note.

It reads, in painfully pretty cursive: Nice try, but you’ll have to be quicker.

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: You fell for that as well? I expected better. Already 02:56, time’s running out.

You scoff, unable to stop yourself from laughing despite the absurdity.

ms. author: Do you even have anything better to do?

grumpy snowman: Not lately. Someone’s been too busy to properly entertain me.

You read it once, twice, and still something in your chest squeezes painfully at that.

Folding up the note, you stare at the text a moment longer before you hear the echoing click of a door. It’s coming from upstairs.

Another buzz.

grumpy snowman: While you’re lost in thought again, care to explain why you’ve been running yourself into the ground?

You pause, stalling as you make your way to your stairs.

ms. author: I am writing.

grumpy snowman: Poorly, if you’re overworking. Can’t imagine the tension’s working out if it’s still stuck in your head.

ms. author: Gasp. Excuse you—

Another buzz interrupts, just as you make it to your bedroom door, old wood announcing your arrival with a groan. The culprit has to be just behind it.

grumpy snowman: 3 minutes remaining. Mr. Whiskers won’t be around much longer.

You can practically feel Zayne’s grin through the phone, and for a brief moment, you’re glad he’s here, even if it’s all in jest. He’s right although you might never admit it; this whole absurd situation—your plushie, the stupid texts, the teasing—has done what no amount of coffee or sleepless daydreaming could.

ms. author: If you harm a single fur on my son’s head, I swear I’ll come for you.

Your hand latches onto your bedroom handle, biting your lip as you pause to type one last jab.

ms. author: I don’t know why I’m indulging you.

grumpy snowman: Because you love it when I win.

A laugh bursts from your lips before you can stop it. Shaking your head, you push the door open.

Your bedroom is dim, the curtains drawn, but moonlight spills through the dusky purple veils, illuminating the bed.

Perched atop lies Mr. Whiskers, your darling calico plushie sitting in the center, fully unharmed even though his crystalline eyes speak of unimaginable horrors at the hands of his captor.

Before you can grab him, movement from the corner of the room nearly startles you into jumping halfway across the room. Zayne, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watches you with a slight upturned grin that makes your stomach twist.

“You’re a horrible villain.” You huff, all but lunging on your bed to hug Mr. Whiskers to your chest like a shield.

His lips twitch into a smile, the bastard, and you can't help but notice how handsome he looks with his hair a little mussed and his glasses slipping down his nose. He doesn’t have his coat or suit jacket on, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, a sight you haven’t grown tired of.

God, you really have a thing for forearms. Or maybe it’s just a thing for Zayne.

“Since we’re critiquing each other, you’re not much of a hero. Hiding behind a plushie doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“Confidence isn’t my priority right now.” You clutch Mr. Whiskers tighter, narrowing your eyes. He’s not here to talk about morals and heroism, though. “I’ve been fine. Nothing more than proofreading left… that and a few problem-children scenes.”

“Then consider this me fulfilling my half of the contract,” Zayne says, effortlessly seeing past your usual bullshit. “For someone who claims they’re adequately inspired, you’ve been more distant than usual.”

“I don’t need a lecture.”

“No lecture.” He steps closer, “I just missed you.”

Again, Zayne's words catch you off guard, so blunt they make your chest ache. No empty flattery, no pretty words, simply stated as though they were facts.

He takes another step forward, and you have to lean back on your elbows— nearly lying back on the bed— to maintain eye contact as he looms above you.

And then, Zayne drops to his knees before you.

It’s a far more graceful movement than it has any right to be, all six foot something of him kneeling against the foot of your bed as you instinctively make room for him there. Slowly, his hands come up to your thighs, the two of you slotting together with ease.

“Admit it,” Zayne whispers, the sweet, minty heat of his breath caressing your lips as you shiver, leaning closer despite yourself. “This helped.” A wry smile, “and that I make a convincing villain.”

“What’s this, is the doctor Zayne fishing for compliments?”

“I don’t need compliments. I just want you to stop pretending in front of me– no more performances.”

Heat rises to your face, and your stomach twists. He's too close, he's always too close, but god, why has this domesticity become so natural around him?

Despite yourself, you look down at his hands again, taking in how easily his scarred palms cup your thighs, the pale contrast of his skin against yours. Lithe, long fingers, and the memory of how well they’ve treated you. You swear he must feel your heart pound where his thumbs brush circles against your inner thighs, your body nothing but responsive for him.

But if he does, he spares you the embarrassment. Zayne only continues to look up into your face, and just as you begin thinking of equally inappropriate jokes or fun facts to break the silence, Zayne moves closer, his knee pressing between your thighs as the mattress dips to accommodate his weight.

“Perhaps there is a performance you could help me with, since you’re clearly the expert here.”

You blink, one step behind Zayne’s master plan yet again. “What- help you?”

“Yes. See, I’ve been thinking about my next move as a villain, and…” Before you can even follow Zayne’s words, Mr. Whiskers is yanked from your grasp once more. One hand raises him into the air and the other lunges for your outstretched arms, pinning them to the bed as it creaks and groans under the sudden assault. “I think I’ll take Mr. Whiskers as my captive once again.”

A soft gasp leaves your lips as Zayne shifts above you, his knee grinding up just enough to have you aching between your legs. Everything spins, torn between the desire to rescue Mr. Whiskers and the overwhelming urge to give in, to pull Zayne closer, to finally, finally fuck him yourself.

But before you can decide, the hand pinning your wrists tightens, his thumb rubbing circles as he effortlessly restrains you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you curse, though the tremor in your voice betrays your excitement.

“Ridiculous?” Zayne repeats, arching a brow. “Perhaps you should start taking this seriously, my dear protagonist.” He drops his voice into something rich, dark, and deliciously villainous. The hand that pins you down holds firm, the other dangles your plushie overhead with mocking menace.

You scoff, though it comes out shakier than intended. “I could write circles around your attempts at being evil.”

“Could you?” Unbuttoning his shirt, Zayne gets only halfway before abandoning it entirely, letting the buttons skew across his chest. He watches with a growing smile as your eyes flutter downward against your better judgment. “Then why don’t you show me.”

Zayne nods to your phone, eyes narrowed from behind his glasses. “Open the doc, show me the scene. Any attempts to rescue the captive will be met with appropriate punishment.”

The way Zayne looks down at you, waiting—daring— to see if you would make him stop, sends a sinful flutter through your core, ricocheting up your spine. No longer trusting your voice, you nod and feel the pressure loosen ever so slightly on your wrists.

You only have time to pull your phone out from your scrub’s back pocket before Zayne captures your wrists again, the tie once used on Mr. Whiskers now knotted efficiently right above your wrists. It should be frightening, how easy it is for him to manhandle you, but you feel nothing but painful arousal at that fact.

You’re still growling out faux protests when Zayne plucks the phone from your hands, his knee keeping your hips firmly pinned against the mattress.

“Ah,” Zayne murmurs, scrolling casually through your doc. “A scene involving betrayal, a chase, and…” He raises a brow. “Passionate accusations of treachery.”

You thrash beneath him, trying to buck off his weight as your face burns in embarrassment. “Enough! You’re supposed to help, not—”

“Not what?” He glances at you briefly, lips pursed in a halfhearted attempt to mask his amusement. “Not put your villain to the test? I’ll admit I might have ulterior motives, but you’ll have to try harder than that.”

Zayne then waves the plushie just out of reach before dangling him on the windowsill for dramatic emphasis.

“I swear to god, if you harm Mr. Whiskers!”

He cuts you off with a chuckle. “Hush. You’ll want to hear this.”

Zayne clears his throat, the smirk on his lips unmistakable as he picks up where you left off in editing your manuscript. His voice drops into a faux-sinister drawl as he begins to narrate. “‘You can hate me all you want,’ the villain growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. ‘But that fire in your eyes only makes me want to break you more.’”

It's horrible, the way he reads the words, the tone and cadence he gives the prose, and worst of all, the way his unblinking gaze remains completely, utterly, fixed on you as he speaks.

“Zayne, please, don’t- this is embarrassing,” you beg to appeal to reason, still writhing against his tie, when you realize his grip against your hips has loosened.

Zayne’s attention is momentarily diverted as he scrolls through the doc, looking for another section to read, and you kick your knee up with a shout, jabbing it into his side as the two of you tumble across the bed.

Lunging, you manage to grab Mr. Whiskers for all of two seconds before Zayne hauls you up by your bound wrists, forcing you arms above your head as you are pulled back against him. He’s rough, forcing your spine to arch against his chest as you hiss on impact, head thrown back against Zayne’s shoulder. “Ah-ah. What did I say about attempts to rescue the captive?”

His tone is all mockery, grip iron against your waist even though you can tell he’s still holding himself back. Feeling each hot, ragged breath against the back of your neck, the smell of ambroxan and sandalwood surrounding you. You breathe in deeper, shaking despite yourself.

“Let go of me!”

‘’Close. I believe the actual line was ‘unhand me.’”

Zayne hauls you further up the mattress, hooking your bound wrists onto the post of your bedframe as this new position forces you to face the wall, all while his free hand adjusts his glasses, scanning the next few lines. “‘I’d rather die than let you win!’ she spat, her chest heaving with defiance—” He glances at you with deadpan incredulity. “Why is everyone always heaving in these scenes? Do they all have asthma?”

“You’re the worst,” you hiss, breathless from the struggle. See? Heaving, no asthma involved, just foreplay.

“And yet…” Zayne’s voice comes closer, and you feel his bare chest once again at your back, “you’re the one who wrote it. I’m simply giving you an immersive experience.”

“Can’t be fully immersive if I have yet to believe you, villain.” Scoffing, you turn around, craning your neck just to glare him in the eyes. “You don’t have what it takes.”

Zayne chuckles, then silence. Forcing your head towards the wall again, you feel him lean down, still out of sight despite the heat radiating off his body, his nose brushing down your bare throat as he spits out the next line.

“Brat.”

You hate how immediately your body responds to that. How you shiver and lean back despite the restraints, how a part of you wants to fight, to keep the act going, because god, the idea of letting Zayne do anything he wants to you is enough to make your head spin.

Zayne’s teeth press against your neck, just below your ear, and you whine, the sound so small and deprived that you instantly bite your tongue and curse yourself for reacting like this.

So then he does it again.

A pitched gasp.

A broken moan.

Each noise he elicits from you is another cruel victory, and when you grind your ass back against Zayne’s increasingly obvious erection, he all but tears your scrubs down your thighs, the cotton of your panties not standing a chance against his desperation.

In truth, Zayne had never been harder in his life. Did he intentionally pick the most on-the-nose dialogue just to watch you squirm? Perhaps. But he’d be lying if he said seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted attempts to fight him, accidentally grinding your ass against him with every squirm didn’t make him want to push you even further.

Every breath came out heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading, large palms alternating between slapping and gently squeezing your ass.

“You’re greedy,” a kiss against your shoulder, shucking your scrubs down your knees. “Impatient,” another kiss, this time down your spine, throwing your pants across the bedroom. “And utterly disobedient.”

You’re already stripped bare from the chest down.

He can't deny the sight of you in such a compromising position is a sight to behold, and the urge to keep reading just to see how far he can push you is intoxicating. Panting, he pauses only to readjust his glasses, foggy and slipping down his nose.

You, however, are too impatient.

"Zayne, please, you got your point across. You win. Just— ah, just fuck me already."

It's the first time in nearly a week that Zayne gets to hear you ask for him, beg for him, and it's all the reminder he needs for his body to fail him, shuttering against you with a moan of his own. How did he survive so long without this? Without you?

Your voice rings against his skull, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. Moan his name, beg for him, scream it, call it out, anything. He needs you, irreversibly.

And not just for this.

So instead, Zayne looks back at your doc one last time, reading, “To think this is the city’s great hero. How I’ll enjoy breaking you.”

With a click, your phone turns off, tossed carelessly to the floor with a heavy thud that would have sent you into a panic had Zayne not chosen that exact moment to bite into the soft flesh behind your neck, thumb instantly finding your clit.

The sensation alone is enough to make you cry, arching further up against the bindings. His hand snakes back around your hip, grounding, just barely brushing against the heat of your cunt, and the way he breathes out a low, half-delirious chuckle at the sound of you panting his name has your core fluttering for more.

"Please, Zayne, please," you whine, and the second the pleas leave your mouth, his thumb presses delicious circles into your neglected bundle of nerves. You whine, loud and needy, the second his fingers sink inside, held up only by Zayne’s arm wrapped around your waist and the tie pinning you against the bed frame.

“Already begging? I wonder how much more obedient you’ll be after I fuck it all out of you.” And god, Zayne wanted to mock such an obscenely written line just to watch you blush all over, because what sort of villain would actually say such a thing?

But when he sees you whimper at his words, when you arch so willingly into his punishment, when he feels your heartbeat quicken under his fingertips, he suddenly can’t say he faults any of these romance writers, for he now knows he’d do far worse than any of their cardboard villains.

Zayne doesn’t even need to read the next line in the doc to know exactly what he’d do next.

All but falling to the mattress, Zayne pulls your hips up, up until you’re atop his face, sinking his tongue between your folds before dragging all the way up to your clit, sucking with enough tension to make you scream.

Your hands burn from where they chafe and fight against the tie, bucking violently against Zayne’s face, the cold kiss of his glasses frames making you jolt as he pulls your hips toward him like it’s the last thing keeping him sane.

“No,” Zayne groans between breaths, unable to part with you as he messily kisses your inner thigh before coaxing two fingers inside you with a thrust. “Don’t run. Do not run from me.”

Every scissor of his fingers forces obscene sounds from your cunt, silenced only by Zayne’s mouth and his own muffled praises. Granted, it didn’t matter how loud he was being, not with all of your delirious moans, completely unsuppressed as Zayne’s calculated ministrations took you apart thrust by thrust.

At least you can remember being thankful that your apartment walls were sound-proofed. Breath ragged, mind spinning, only mindlessly fighting back as you babble, “Wait, you’re so- ah- fuck. Zayne!”

Quite canonically to your villain, Zayne’s hips buck into empty air in time to every thrust of his fingers, imagining it was his cock fucking deep into you instead. It’s a line he’s fantasized about crossing time and time again.

But that’s where it stops. Fantasy. Because just the thought of it has Zayne groaning into your cunt, the taste and feel of you alone driving him insane, a point of obsession where he cannot allow himself to go any further. He can’t. He can’t, he really shouldn’t.

He’d never recover, he’d never stop wanting— needing you. He’s addicted enough as is.

Zayne’s shirt had almost fully unbuttoned but his trousers remained, bulging as his cock wept from its prison against his thigh, fabric dark and painfully restraining. The mere friction was too little and overstimulating all at once. Even so, he can’t help but chase the phantom feeling, grinding against nothing as you fall apart above him.

When your shaking thighs finally begin to lock around his jaw, he welcomes the cage, burrowing his face deeper as the strong arch of his nose presses against your throbbing clit. Zayne’s slick fingers are delegated to merely keeping your hips still, his tongue fucking you through your orgasm as his hips follow your same rhythm.

One touch, one touch is all he needs to cum with you, but Zayne refuses to do anything but work you through your high. He swallows the taste of you, open-mouthed and needy, a moan rumbling deep in his chest as you feel it hum through you.

Gasping, you look down, and immediately you feel your core flutter— the sight enough to have you wishing he was back in between your thighs already.

Zayne’s entire body shakes beneath you, dark hair mused and hands digging into your hips in ways you know will leave half-moon marks. But what has you trembling is the sight of his hazel eyes eclipsed to near black, completely blown out and teary as they try and fail to focus on anything other than your pussy still fluttering above him. Something you can barely see at all, not with the amount of cum that squirted across his glasses, foggy and skewed across his nose as it too glistens with your release.

It’s an obscene picture you only get for a moment before Zayne chucks his glasses off just to place a closer, deeper set of kisses on your cunt. Practically chasing every buck of your hips, he happily lets you ride his face until your room begins to blur yet again, weightless and utterly fucked.

You’re panting, vision still coming back in waves as you register Zayne untying your hands, all the while kissing the light bruises that remain.

And yet you can hardly think of anything other than the fact that he still hasn’t properly fucked you.

“Zayne,” you call, and god, something in your chest squeezes at just how fast he whips his head around, already ducking to meet your eyes as he scans down your face. There’s worry etched into his features, his eyes scanning yours like he’s already bracing for whatever you’ll say next.

“I’m sorry, I knew I should have taken better precautions. If your hands hurt I can get a salve from—”

“Fuck me.”

Silence.

Zayne blinks, his mouth parting and eyes squinting as though he misheard– or somehow misread– you.

“What?” he manages, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sit up on your knees, pulling off your shirt one swift movement so you’re completely naked, then lean forward until your noses nearly touch, his eyes dropping to your breasts. The boldness only shakes him further. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you run away this time. I want—” Reaching your hand out, your fingers trail down Zayne’s bare chest, hardly even pushing for him to fall backward. And for you to follow on top. “I want to do this for you. I want you.”

Zayne’s breath is deceptively steady, and if you couldn't feel the ragged rhythm of his chest, rising and falling as it burns against your palm, you wouldn’t have believed he was affected at all.

“You don’t-wait- have to—” he starts, but his voice breaks when your fingers trace the curve of his ribs, lips following suit as you place gentle kisses down his sternum, his slender abs, dangerously close to the v-line dipping into his pants that you can’t help but lick, smiling in delight as his words finally fail him.

“Neither did you. You’re rather stubborn, doctor,” you insist, soft but unwavering. Resting your head against his thigh, you coax his jaw down to look at you, the palm still resting against his chest finding the erratic thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Let me take care of you for once. Don’t you know good patients listen?”

Zayne huffs a quiet laugh, the sound strained as he looks down at you, right side of his lips curving into a faint smirk despite the way his body seems to ignite at your touch. “Bringing in our professional titles seems a little underhanded, don’t you think?”

“Ah, but it got your attention, didn’t it?” You don’t let him stall anyone— already he’s managed to keep this from you for weeks, really it’s a shame you haven’t stripped him earlier— letting your tongue trace the dip of his hip once more, humming as his muscles tense under the sudden attention.

Greedy, your lips continue to worship every sharp edge and curve of Zayne’s abdomen, hands busy with his buckle until you manage to find a particularly sensitive spot just above his right hip bone.

All his composure, all his calculated confidence, you want to break it apart until there’s nothing left but Zayne. Just Zayne.

Zayne inhales sharply, eyes screwing shut as his mouth falls open in a picture of perfect debauchery you want etched into your mind forever. One hand fists into the sheets beside him, the other flying to your hair as your kisses turn to a dizzying mix of licks and nips. Hard enough to mark, you bite into skin, tongue flicking between your teeth, echoing across the room alongside the wet sounds of your mouth at work.

“Ah, fuck.”

Cursing already? Perhaps this would be easier than you thought, but where’s the fun in that?

You pull back, watching Zayne blink in confusion as his hips twitch up toward your mouth, and you have to force back a laugh as he stares, bewildered, like he can hardly believe the sight in front of him.

His voice comes out huskier than before, low and coated with desire. "Why did you stop?"

You pull back just enough to look up at him, cheek resting on his thigh as you play with his zipper, never looking away from Zayne’s eyes even as they flutter closed in frustration, desperate for more. Tension practically radiates off of him, but you only smile, taking your time as you trail your fingers away from his zipper and bulge, teasing the sensitive edges of his hip and the skin peaking just over the edge of his trousers.

“Don’t worry, doctor,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “I’ll be sure to complete your procedure just as thoroughly as you did on me.”

Oh, and Zayne must realize how utterly fucked he is, for you won’t be letting him go not until you’ve adequately paid him back for all the times he’s deliberately edged you to the point of tears, all the times he’s reprimanded your attitude, all the sweet punishments you’ve ensured that you’re going to give back to him tenfold.

But before he can try and sweet-talk his way into mercy, your teeth catch on his zipper, dragging it down as your free hand unlaces his belt, tossing it across the room by the time his bulge presses out from between the metal teeth all on its own.

Achingly hard already, and you haven't even begun.

The fact that you know he’s this hard just from eating you out certainly doesn’t help.

His boxers are soaking, the obvious bulge only emphasized by the way the damp cotton seems to stick to him, and god does the size of him make your core flutter.

Maybe next time you’ll get him to come just by eating you out.

Next time, though.

Without warning, your fingers wrap around his cock, freeing it from the confines of his boxers. A hiss grits out through Zayne’s teeth as his jaw clicks and a vein thrums against his neck from the pressure.

You're so used to having Zayne above you, between your legs, teasing you senseless as his fingers or tongue bring you to the edge over and over again. And now, here he is. Spread out, and all yours to ravage.

The realization alone has you throbbing, prior orgasm all but forgotten as you feel the want burn between your thighs again.

If only he could see how wet you were already.

How could he not, with the way your hips were rocking against his still-clothed thigh, searching for the friction he wouldn’t give?

And yet, despite your impatience, your eyes never leave Zayne, watching the way his muscles flex as he resists the urge to move, ever obedient for you.

"Good boy," you purr, meaning only to tease him further, but instead of the faux glare or inscrutable comment you were expecting, Zayne tenses beneath you, his cock jumping against your palm. Your eyebrows raise, a breathless giggle betraying your intentions as you lean in closer.

"Oh? Do you like that, baby? Being told just how perfect you are for me?”

You're not sure what's more arousing, the fact that Zayne is practically coming undone at your words, or the fact that he hasn't denied a thing.

God, his body feels hot. The mere praise has a dusky blush racing down his gorgeously sculpted chest all the way to the tips of his ears, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he looks down between the two of you, to where you’re still teasing the weeping slit of his dick. He moans before he could even stop himself. Fuck.

Shivering, Zayne reaches out to grasp your wrist, and for a moment you think he's going to put a stop to your little power trip. But his hand only comes up to guide yours, urging you to pump his cock a bit faster, stopping to put more pressure against the base, and you can't help but smirk knowing he must be truly desperate if he's already rushing you to jerk him off properly.

"My, my, doctor. I suppose I’m not the only one who’s been holding back.” You click your tongue, a teasing edge to your voice. "Were you really so desperate to feel me around your cock, hmm?"

Hazel eyes narrow at the pure filth behind your words, but you see the furrow between his brows, the way Zayne’s throat bobs as he throws his head back with a choked groan. If he looks so damn pretty now, you wonder what kind of faces he’ll make when he cums.

“You truly are horrible,” He groans, hesitating, hands clenching into the sheets before they fly up to your waist, gently bucking his hips into your awaiting palm. “Mhm- please.”

You hum, lazily sinking to your stomach so your bare chest presses against his still-clothed thighs. With each stroke you can feel his muscles twitch beneath you, see the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, the way his hand guides yours, tightening and loosening, urging you to go faster, harder.

Your mouth waters, and the urge to taste him is far too tempting to resist.

Plus, you’ve had enough with denying yourself, and more than enough of Zayne denying himself as well.

So right as Zayne’s head rolls back against the pillows you rock forward, licking a slow stripe up his dick, up between the gap of your fingers where they grip his base.

Zayne chokes on his breath, hand immediately tangling in your hair, rough enough that it has you wrenched away with a breathless whine. He groans, words shaking out in breathless huffs, “You, hah- this isn’t, fuck—”

"Ah, ah, pretty boy, let me take care of you, yeah?" You fight to come back to him, smiling as Zayne’s grip immediately loosened, and you kiss his tip in thanks.

Rubbing teasing circles into his thighs, your thumbs then move up, tracing his v-line, addicted to the way his muscles tense under your nails and to the red lines that follow. It makes you want to mark him up more. So you do, with your nails again, then with your teeth and tongue.

“Look at how- shit- how excited you are for me. So pretty.” You lean forward, pressing wet, messy kisses just below his navel and all around his already sticky thighs, heady and coated in pre-cum.

Another bite, and you squeeze his balls with just enough pressure as you watch his eyes roll back in time. "I'm going to make this so, so good for you, baby.”

Zayne all but sobs at that.

Every carefully restrained thought breaks completely at the praise, a raspy moan grinding through his teeth before his jaw falls open with every ragged huff of breath.

“Mhm that’s it, you’re doing so well,” you say, smiling at the way his cock twitches, violently leaking, pre-cum pooling into your palm and dripping down your wrist. “So pretty, so perfect just for me.”

With one last kiss on Zayne’s tip, your hands steadies itself against his abdomen before you kitten-lick around the tip of his cock, and then greedily shove as much of his throbbing erection as you can down your throat.

Zayne tenses, gasping, and the sound sends a thrill down your spine. You press further, tongue flattening along the underside of his shaft, and fuck he’s so thick you nearly choke, forgetting to breathe in through your nose as the lack of oxygen gets to you embarrassingly fast.

If only you had some more time to properly adjust, you'd force him to the hilt without a doubt. But patience has never been your virtue.

You’re already edging yourself with every slow grind of your clit against Zayne’s thigh, and you can feel his desperation in every throb along the underside of his cock in your mouth, letting his tip hit the back of your throat, breaching as deep as you could allow.

Zayne begins to buck forward only to freeze halfway, a low hiss leaving him as his hand twitches against the sheets, knuckles turning white as he fights his own self-restraint as you urge him deeper into your hot mouth. Trying to pull you off him, Zayne’s hand laces through your hair as a warning, large enough to cup the back of your neck entirely, but the action only lets you take him further.

Then he makes the fatal mistake of looking down at you, locking eyes with your teary gaze as you maintain eye contact before licking up his length, and then swallowing him back down, crying as mascara and drool runs down your chin. His hips stutter upwards, and then he catches the shallow bulge now pressing against the base of your throat. Up and down and back again.

The sight breaks him.

He throws his head back with a whine, and fuck, his sounds thrums against your skull, reverberating through your very being as he snaps, hips bucking wildly into your mouth, his powerful thighs trembling around your head. You’re being used as nothing more than a fucktoy now, hands scrambling for purchase against his abdomen for a semblance of control as you take it.

Fuck, maybe it’s the praise, because you make Zayne want to be greedy with the way you were gagging and choking around him.

The mere feeling of you drooling around his length, the way your moans come out muffled and wet with drool and his slick, like a messy kiss to his cock, has his hips stuttering deeper, arching up into your body until Zayne can practically feel the spark of his orgasm behind his eyes.

But no, that won't do.

After all, you won’t be satisfied until he’s finally fucking himself inside you tonight. He can’t cum anywhere else. You won’t let him.

And right when you feel his cock go rigid, you tighten your hand around the base, and pull off.

Heaving, you shakily prop yourself back onto your elbows, Zayne's length glistening with saliva between your bodies, twitching violently and leaking all across his abdomen and your chest from its angry red tip.

“S’pretty, Zayne.”

Zayne moans, hips chasing after the heat of your mouth, hissing when all he feels is the cold air. He wants to protest, wants to ask for more, but you shush him with a kiss.

Your tongue laps across his skin, tracing the ridges of his abs, lapping the pre-cum and sweat that gathers there. You lick a trail, following the sharp cut of his hips.

"What, is that all you can take?" you ask, a teasing smirk on your face.

Zayne curses, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. “Depends.” His voice is fucked rough, raw, and you never want him to stop talking. ”Was that the full treatment?”

You hum, biting the inside of his thigh. He gasps, and it turns into a deep groan when you press an open-mouthed kiss over the forming mark.

“No,” you admit, “You’re not escaping until I get to watch you come undone.”

You smile at the shudder both your words and actions draw, the way his fingers tighten in your hair. “Ah, but not here. In me. I want you to fill me up, baby, make a mess of me. I can take it, I promise. And when you're done, I'm going to ride you until you come again. Sound good, my pretty boy?"

Zayne throws his head back with a moan, eyes squeezed painfully shut as though he can’t decide if this really is real or if a succubus was haunting his dreams to every sinful memory he has of you.

Zayne leans into your touch, following your palm as he nuzzles into you with a huff of hot breath. A little like a kitten in a man's body— a sexy body no doubt— but you wonder, not for the first time, if the reason he always holds back is simply because he was afraid. As you were. Until Zayne came to you, until he showed you what pleasure felt like.

So you take his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, and then kiss him.

He lunges up to meet you halfway, licking into your mouth, fisting into your hair, breathing in every moan and whimper of his name as he hums it right back. Needy, so damn needy for it.

You smile through the kiss, grinding up and down his muscular thigh alongside the desperate smashing of mouths. Tongue-heavy, teeth scraping, sucking at the corner of your lips. So fucking hungry for you that he’s practically lifting you right off the mattress with just one arm.

His mouth distractedly chases down your throat leaving opened-mouth kisses before slotting back against your lips, hot and demanding and urgent.

“Zayne, ah—” you’re cut off with another kiss, “Mhm, please, need you,” another, Zayne looping two arms around your thighs, hiking your knees up to his shoulders, the stretch burning. “Need you in me, now.”

He moans into your open mouth at those words, eager enough that he chases you up, nearly pinning you beneath him until you break the kiss with a gasp, shoving him back down. Zayne whines at the break of your lips, brows furrowed as his back hits the mattress, trapped under you once again, panting.

"Need you, pretty boy." You whisper against his lips, and it sounds just like a promise. "Please, let me take care of you.”

Zayne takes a shaky breath, nodding, drunk on the praise and readjusts himself against the pillows. He watches, eyes half-lidded, as you straddle his waist. Rough hands find your hips and hold them steady as you settle climbing atop him, the head of his cock rubbing between the folds of your soaked cunt.

It isn’t lost on you how Zayne can barely stop staring at the slick that trails down your thighs, all of it coating his shaft in slick as your pussy hovers over him, connecting the two of you in wet, sticky strands.

"Like what you see, doctor?"

You lick down the milky column of his neck and Zayne groans, leaning back to grant you access. "You and your smart-ass mouth."

“You love it.”

Ya, he does. He could probably cum just from watching you like this.

Leaning forward, you line his cock up with your entrance, smirking at the way his eyes narrow, heart racing beneath your palms as you balance yourself on his pecks, shamelessly groping them.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've thought about this? How many times I've imagined riding your cock, hearing the sweet noises you make as I make a mess of you?"

Zayne opens his mouth, as if to say something, but whatever it is doesn't matter, not as you guide the swollen red tip of his cock through your folds, thick tip pushing and sliding past your entrance, unable to fit even with your combined slick. Teasing, swollen pussy lips drooling right down onto his leaky head when just a simple nudge of Zayne’s squirming hips would end this torment and have you fucked flush against him— raw.

"Please," he groans, his voice raspy and hoarse, eyes fluttering closed, glassy with lust, "I can't- I can't take this. Please,” a low moan of your name has you delirious, and god, you’d give him anything he’d ask for. “I admit it, I need you. So please.”

Were you more than happy to oblige.

Lifting yourself all the way up on your knees, you steadily apply more pressure to your entrance, working yourself further and further until you could feel your slick drip down your thighs and his cock, each movement now accompanied by an unholy squelch. You slide his cock over your cunt—back, then forward—stimulating your clit with the head each time he fucks it through your folds, desperate as your movements become rougher and more forced.

Zayne’s cock catches against your entrance once again, and a low, breathy moan escapes his lips. He could feel your cunt finally yield to the pressure of his large, overbearing cock, could feel the way your legs trembled, threatening to give way, and he can't help but wonder if this is how you would look, how you would sound and feel, when he fucked you.

As soon as he feels the flutter of your core against his tip, he knows he’s lost, the head of Zayne’s cock sliding into you with a lewd pop as you both moan.

"Mhm, yes," you moan, voice a high-pitched keen. "Just- ah, like that."

Zayne bites his lip, fingers digging into your hips, and fuck, after being edged not once but twice today he already feels deliciously overstimulated and close, too close.

So it certainly doesn't help when you rock yourself up onto your knees, then drop yourself all the way back down his shaft, taking him all the way in until his balls slap against your ass.

You even don't wait for either of you to adjust before doing it again, and the velvety hot squeeze of your cunt has Zayne seeing stars.

“Ah, f-fuck, oh, shit. S’good Zayne,“ you coo, "Feels so good, fuck."

You’re dripping down your thighs, gushing around him like a vice as he watches his cock disappear into your cunt with a creamy white ring already at his base.

It’s all turning Zayne delirious with the way you continue to feed him compliment after compliment. It’s all so much, too much, and a low moan is forced out of Zayne’s chest as he begins rocking his hips up to meet yours, hardly even letting you pull out before bullying his way back into you.

Fuck, you can feel him everywhere, his cock hitting your cervix, your walls stretched tight around him, a mixture of his and your slick pooling onto his abdomen as you chase your way up and down his length.

But god, what you feel is nothing compared to how absolutely wrecked Zayne looks.

His eyes are screwed shut, chest rising and falling rapidly, the flush from his ears having spread to his gorgeously marked-up chest, his neck, the angry red tip of his cock. His brows are drawn together, jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck and shoulders strained as he holds himself back, every part of him curling up to meet yours and press you down, closer.

But then he turns away, eyes screwed shut as you feel his tip jerk against your cervix once more.

No. No, no, no that won’t do.

Zayne has watched you come undone countless times. He’s been a worshiper and witness to pleasures you didn’t think you could feel, and this time, you want him to be the subject of all your adoration. To finally give him back all the love he’s taught you to feel and more.

So you lean down, cupping Zayne’s cheek with one hand as you continue to ride him. “Look at me, baby. Y-you're so, fuck, so big, Zayne, fuck—” You gasp a sharp breath as he twitches violently inside you at the praise, slurring your words. “Mhm, love your cock so much."

But you doubted he could hear you— fuck, you wouldn’t even be able to tell if Zayne was breathing at this point if it wasn’t for the throbbing of his cock against your walls in time to his erratic heartbeat— because his eyes rolled back into his skull, jaw slack as a silent moan rips from his chest, shuddering down his spine right before his hips snap up into yours, throwing you off balance, pinpointing your g-spot with cruel accuracy as you scream.

Your sounds and babble of praises have him dizzy, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he struggles to focus on your face. It almost looks like he’s about to cry, dark lashes wet with unshed tears. You’d tease him for it, had you the capacity to think at all. But no, each thrust continues to bully into that sweet, spongy spot inside you as you moan, and Zayne’s mouth falls open with a cry of his own.

You chase into it with a kiss, clashing your teeth as you feel his tongue lap against yours, sucking hard. You feel the wrecked, blissed-out smile on your face, breaking away from him just long enough for Zayne to see how ruined and turned on he’s making you.

"Y-you're close, aren't you, my sweet boy?" You ask, the words coming out strained as Zayne fucks up into you. Pumping upwards, it’s like he wasn’t even trying every time his weeping head rams your sensitive spots. Just stuffing you full of his cock he denied you for so long, furious enough to mold you to his very shape. "C'mon, cum for me, Zayne. In me, please–ah."

You pull away even as his lips chase yours, arching your back so that your full weight grinds back on his hips. Zayne all but whimpers at the change in angle, his hands gripping the bed sheets as he tries not to starve off his orgasm.

"Please, please," he groans, his jaw clenching.

"Look at me, Zayne."

He does, and his pupils are so blown, his eyes nearly black.

"Cum for me, baby," you beg again, grinding down against him as his hand comes up to grope your chest the same moment your palm leaves to cup his balls, and that's all it takes.

Zayne comes, a cry ripped from his throat, his cock throbbing inside of you. You can feel the sheer warmth filling you, his seed spilling out and leaking onto the sheets, and god, there’s so much of it that cum squirts out from between the two of you, splattering up his abs and your thighs.

He’s trembling, head falling back as his hips jolt and stutter, still fucking up into you as though it can’t bear to part. You’re probably not helping with the way you still rocking on his length, your cunt milking his orgasm, and he can't take it, it's too much, too fucking good, he can't stop, never wants to.

But, fuck, one look at his face, and you already want him to cum again.

Zayne looks like sin, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, his body writhing and straining as he gasps for breath, his skin shining in the afterglow of his release. The muscles of his neck are taut, veins pulsing and straining, his lips bitten red. He is fucking gorgeous, and the thought that he has done this for you, to you, has another wave of arousal shooting up your spine.

“You…” Zayne’s brows pinch together, but his voice is low, dangerous. Unyielding. “You didn’t cum.”

“I already did, besides I-I ah, Zayne—!”

You’re cut off by your own pussy, lewd squelching accompanying every brutal thrust Zayne overstimulates the both of you with, bullying his own cum out of you with each rhythmless thrust back in. He plants his feet into the mattress, thrusting his hips up as you claw at his shoulders, chest, the slap of skin on skin ringing in your ears.

“No, that isn’t-” Zayne’s words slur, feverish and mindless as his gaze zero’s in to where the two of you meet, the sound of every wet, messy thrust and the slight bulge he now sees in time to his thrusts. “Not enough. With me. Please, hah, cum with me, love.”

Transfixed, one hand drifts to the bulge at your navel, and before he can stop himself, he grinds the heel of his palm against it. Immediately, overbearing pressure shoots up your spine, a broken scream leaving you as you tremble above him, arching violently forward.

You try and speak, protests leaving as nothing more than garbled whimpers as you claw at Zayne’s wrist, trying and failing to pry his punishing grip off you.

He doesn’t relent.

How could he, when you’ve finally given him yourself? When this was everything he’s denied himself and more?

Fuck control, fuck discipline, fuck holding himself back. Zayne wants you.

Vision blurry, drool dribbling down the corner of your mouth, your combined cum gushes out of your overfilled pussy and spreads in a lewd little pool beneath you. It’s all you can do to take it, Zayne overstimulating the both of you to insanity, but his hips keep the same punishing rhythm. Two slow, deep thrusts before something snaps and he hammers into you twice. Thrice. Then begins all over.

It’s effortless, the way he bounces your body up and down with one hand, the other remaining pressed against your abdomen, massaging the outline of his dick showing through with every grind forward, rolling your clit between his forefinger and thumb.

Large hands splay your thighs wider, closer, impossibly stretching you out until all you can feel is Zayne, Zayne, Zayne. You don’t realize you’re chanting his name out loud too. And you never felt more gloriously out of control than when he abruptly jerks his thigh upwards– driving you right along with it– hitting your cervix all at once.

There’s no rhythm. Not anymore. You’re hardly lucid, dropping your full weight down just to meet Zayne’s cock as he pulls you down prone atop of him to catch your mouth in an open kiss as he hits your g-spot again. And again. And again and again and—

“Love,” he all but moans it into your lips, low and broken and oh so addicting. “My love, please.” God, he’s still so painfully hard but the feeling of you fluttering around him, getting tighter each time he calls you love, must be a sort of heaven. “Please– hah, fuck– cum. Cum all over my cock.”

You whine, surging forward to kiss him again, and he feels it, couldn’t do or think of anything but it as you cum around his cock for the first time.

Zayne’s eyes open even as you continue to suck and lick into his mouth, brows furrowed and vision blurring, lost in every hot pulse of your walls as they coaxed him further and further in, your release squirting against him as you struggle to drag your hips off him again, pussy sucking his cock in deeper, unwilling to let him go.

Shaking, his hands find their way back to your hips, settling over the light bruises as he guides you up and down again, startling you as you moan into his lips.

“Zayne,” you whine his name between kisses, strings of spit snapping between you, Zayne chasing hazily after your mouth before you cup his face in your hands.

God, the sound of his name on your lips is enough to have him keening, pressing his forehead to yours as his entire body trembles.

You’re coming again before you even realize it, vision spinning in and out as Zayne continues to fuck you through it. Zayne makes a noise, something between a moan and a whimper, his hips slowing despite himself.

You're gorgeous, the sight of you atop him, still slurring out compliments, and it's too much, fuck, too fucking much, too fucking perfect, his perfect woman.

With a final snap of his hips, Zayne comes alongside you.

His orgasm has him gasping and his entire body bows forward, arms wrapping around your middle as he buries his face in your shoulder, kissing into the tender flesh as he just keeps cumming.

He can't find the need to hold back this time. Not when the pleasure is so intense that his vision is turning white, not when your cunt is hot and pulsing and clenching around him, not when the praise and encouragement keep pouring out of your lips, whispering into the crook of his neck, "good job, Zayne, such a good boy for me, you did so well, my sweet boy, my love, hah, I love you."

When you finally come down from your high your body is sore and aching, the feeling of his hot cum deep inside making you whine, the sensation so much better than his fingers or toys, so much more warm and full.

Zayne’s arms are wrapped protectively across you, hugging you down atop of him even as his cock remains motionless within you, not an inch of skin untouched as his hands rub careful circles down your spine and thighs.

You nuzzle closer, whispering more nonsensical praises into Zayne’s hair, raising a shaking arm to comb through it as he still keeps his face tucks into your shoulder, hidden and shaking softly still.

A shift, and you feel his hot breath on your neck, a sudden drop of wetness against your skin, and you realize with a start that Zayne is crying.

He’s crying. Soft, unrestrained sobs muffle into your shoulder as he tucks you close, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck between breaths. You let him. You curl up as close as you can get onto his lap and then closer still, one hand raking through his hair in gentle reverence as you let him cry.

It is silent, save for the sound of his sobs and his labored breaths.

"I love you, Zayne," you say, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. "You really are perfect, thank you, thank you."

You kiss his forehead, then down his cheek and jaw until he finally relaxes under you. Tracing lazy patterns up and down his chest, you coax him down until he finally raises his eyes to meet yours with a flutter of tear-stained kisses to your palm.

The first thing you notice is the way his cheeks are flushed, his eyes wavering and hazy. The second is the way his lips are swollen, the marks on his neck and chest blooming darker with each passing minute. The third is how the sweat on his skin is beginning to dry, making his hair stick up in all sorts of directions.

The fourth is the look on his face.

The look on his face is soft, tender, and unsure. Nothing like the infallible surgeon the whole city reveres, or the smart-mouthed mentor you’ve grown to admire and respect. Just Zayne.

You brush the damp locks away from his eyes, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, and he melts, his body falling forward onto you as he curls you into his side, tucking you down onto the bed alongside him.

“Stay with me?” He asks, his voice low, as though afraid to ask. Afraid to know.

Always.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

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