myzticbean - Tumblr blog

myzticbean · 3 months ago

Text

Possession, Obsession, Devotion: A Study in Five Men

Nope, I haven’t vanished. Super grateful for all your messages and the sweet support — seriously, thank you. Just swamped with work right now, so writing’s slowed down a bit. Still working on your requests, I promise! And I’m knee-deep in a pretty massive, emotionally wrecking angst based on a Songfic prompt. While that one’s cooking, I thought I’d drop another batch of my random writer notes — all bundled up in one chaotic little post.

CW/TW: Headcanons, Possessive Behavior, Obsessive Love, Jealousy, Power Imbalance, Toxic Romance, Red Flags Treated as Romance, Intimacy with Control Undertones, Emotional Manipulation (Mild), Dubious Coping Mechanisms, Intense Emotional Dependency, Suggestive Themes, Mild Sexual Content, Unhealthy Attachment Framed as Devotion Genre: Romance-Infused, Erotically-Charged Drabbles with a Generous Side of Fluff Words Count: 8.6K

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Caleb’s Obsessed With You

1. You call another man “handsome” — even as a joke. You were teasing. Flirting, in that harmless, breezy way of yours. Caleb laughed. Then immediately kissed you like he needed to reassert territorial dominance with tongue and body weight. Funny how your jokes always end with your back against the wall and his hand on your throat. Lovingly.

2. You go to someone else for help instead of him. You needed tech support. A charger. Help moving the couch. And instead of calling your six-foot-two, military-trained, emotionally unstable boyfriend — you asked Xavier. Caleb didn’t say anything. Just stood in the doorway, watching, calculating how long it would take to move the entire solar system to make sure you never do that again.

3. You don’t sit on his lap when there’s clearly space.You chose the chair. Next to him. Not on him. He’s not mad. No, no. He's just questioning the entire fabric of your connection and whether you’ve lost all sense of instinct. And when you finally realize and climb into his lap? He sighs like a man being restored to life.

4. You post a photo where you're not touching him.Nice shot. Great lighting. Cute outfit. But why is he two feet away and not glued to your side like a shadow with military clearance? His arm belongs around your waist. His hand belongs on your thigh. And your caption? Should’ve been his name, followed by a possessive noun.

5. You forget to wear his dog tags. He left them for you. Carefully. On your nightstand. The same tags he’s worn through hell. And you? Walked out the door wearing a cute sweater and nothing that says “belonging to Colonel Caleb.” He’ll never say a word. He’ll just strip you slow the second you get home and fasten them back around your neck himself. With teeth.

5 Lies Caleb Tells Himself About You

1. “I don’t care that she uses my toothbrush.”You could take a fresh one. You don’t. You reach for his, same as always — like that handle belongs to you more than to him. He mutters something about germs. Then watches you rinse with that smug little smile. And later, when you're asleep, he moves it back to your side of the sink. Right where you like it.

2. “She can wear whatever she wants.”And you do. His shirt. His flight jacket. That tiny black top you swear is “practical.” He acts unbothered. Says nothing. But the second someone else looks too long? He stands behind you. One hand on your waist. That casual kind of possessive that feels like a warning wrapped in warmth.

3. “I don’t need her to text me when she gets home.”You’re a grown woman. A Hunter. You’ve neutralized things with more teeth than common sense. You say “Don’t wait up.” He says “Sure.” Then checks his phone every ten minutes like it's a heartbeat monitor and he's waiting to hear yours again.

4. “It’s fine if she flirts. I know it’s harmless.”You’re charming. It’s part of who you are. You wink. Smile. Lean in a little too close. Caleb plays it cool. Says, “She’s always like that.” Then grabs your waist in front of everyone and whispers: “Try that again, and I’ll fuck you so hard next time you won’t remember anyone else’s name.”

5. “She doesn’t need to say she loves me every day.”You say it once. In passing. A low little “love you” as you walk away, like it’s nothing. But he hears it like an oath. And that night? He holds your hand a little tighter. Pulls your body a little closer. Not because he needs to hear it again. But because if he doesn’t touch you, he might forget how to breathe.

5 Things That Make Him Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. Your hair falls in his face. Leaning over him. Stretching across the couch. Just close enough that it brushes his cheek like it has rights. You don’t even notice. But he does. Every time. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move. Just breathes in and lets the world narrow to that one soft, smug part of you.

2. You chew on your thumb when you’re thinking. Not seductively. Not even consciously. Just a tiny bite to the edge of your nail while you’re mid-rant about your latest recon or trying to remember the name of a street vendor. It’s nothing. Stupid. Barely a gesture. And yet — he stares. Tracks it like a countdown. Fists flexing slow. Jaw tight. Because that mouth should never look that innocent.

3. You interrupt him when he’s cooking. He’s focused. Knife in hand. Half-distracted by heat and oil. And then you slide in behind him. Touch his lower back. Squeeze something you shouldn’t. Say “Smells good, chef,” with a grin that makes his whole spine forget how to hold. He curses. Tries to shoo you off. You lick something off his finger. And now dinner’s going to burn.

4. You try on his Fleet cap like it’s a joke. You lift it off the rack. Set it crooked on your head. Salute with two fingers and that smile that once made him fall off a training tower. “Colonel,” you say. And he’s gone. He should laugh. He doesn’t. He walks over, takes it off you slow, and kisses your temple like he’s reassigning you to a very different kind of mission.

5. You say “I’m yours”. Not in bed. Not in public. Just… casually. In passing. In that low voice you only use when something’s real. “I’m yours.”He looks at you like you just disarmed a bomb with your bare hands. And then he ruins you for saying it so lightly.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You’re the only one allowed to fly with him in his military jet.Clearance denied. Protocol says no. Regulations triple-confirm it. And yet — you’re in the co-pilot seat, boots up, fingers tracing buttons you’re not supposed to touch. He doesn’t stop you. Someone once asked why you get to ride with him when no one else does. He looked up from the cockpit and said, “She’s my gravity.” End of discussion.

2. You only need to place your hand on his to calm him down.No words. No pleading. No strategic de-escalation. Just your fingers, settling lightly over his, when something in him starts to coil too tight. And just like that — his spine eases. The heat in his eyes lowers by a degree. People have seen him end arguments with three words. They’ve never seen him go silent for anyone but you.

3. You’re the only person he’ll interrupt a briefing for.He’s mid-sentence. Room full of officers. Tactical projections glowing on the wall. His phone buzzes. He glances down, sees your name — and pauses. “Give me five,” he says. And walks out without waiting for permission. Someone once asked who it was. He said, “The only priority higher than this fleet.” No one asked again.

4. You walk in on his arm at the Farspace Fleet annual gala.He’s in dress whites. You’re in black. And the room — full of admirals, envoys, diplomats — parts like mist when you enter. He doesn’t introduce you. He doesn’t need to. You’re not just his date. You’re the one who makes him dangerous in silence. And everyone knows it.

5. You don’t need words to communicate.One glance. A tilt of your head. A tiny shift in posture across the room. He’s already moving. Already reading you like mission data. To others, it looks like magic. Intuition. Maybe telepathy. But for you two? It’s just muscle memory — built from years of almosts, nevers, and finallys.

5 Times Caleb Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He pulled the full personnel file on a man you once smiled at.You were being polite. Friendly. The guy asked something harmless, you laughed. By morning, Caleb had his record open on a secure datapad, scrolling like he wasn’t reading a life — just calculating the risk factor. You asked what he was doing. He said, “I like knowing who wants what’s mine.” And then kissed you like he hoped you never asked him to stop.

2. He showed up at your door at 02:03 AM. Soaking wet. Furious. Silent.You missed one message. One. He waited. Thirty minutes. An hour. And then something in him snapped. No threats. No drama. Just the sound of his knock like a warning shot. You opened the door. He didn’t speak. Just stared. And then pulled you in with a grip like survival wasn’t optional anymore.

3. He scared the hell out of a junior pilot for asking your name.The kid was fresh. Eager. Smiled a little too long. Said, “Hey, what should I call you?” You started to answer. Then turned — and saw Caleb across the room. Expression calm. Stance neutral. Eyes loaded. The pilot apologized before you even said a word.

4. He slammed his hand on the table when you joked about breaking up.Just a joke. A throwaway line. Something stupid like “Guess I’ll go find someone less intense.” And his hand hit the surface before the words fully left your mouth. Not loud. Not violent. Just final. He didn’t yell. Didn’t argue. Just looked at you like you’d put a knife in his ribs and smiled about it. You never made that joke again.

5. He called you “dangerous” — and meant it like a vow.It was late. You were arguing. You said something sharp. He caught your wrist and said it low, almost reverent: “You’re dangerous.” But not like an accusation. Like awe. Like worship. Like he’d already decided to stay, even if you wrecked him completely. Even if he’d have to protect the world from you. Or protect you from himself.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Zayne’s Obsessed With You

1. Someone else bandaged your scratch. Just a graze. A stupid piece of shrapnel across your forearm. A colleague wrapped it up. No big deal. You came home smiling. Told him it barely hurt. He nodded. Quiet. Then excused himself to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he returned with antiseptic, clean gauze, and the words: “Take it off. I’m doing it properly.” You didn’t argue. Neither did he. 2. Someone at work lent you their umbrella. A man. It was raining. You forgot yours. He offered. You accepted. Zayne didn’t say a thing when you mentioned it over dinner. Just hummed. Neutral. The next morning, you found a new umbrella in your bag. Carbon fiber. Windproof. Labeled discreetly with your initials. You didn’t ask how he knew the exact weight your bag could carry without straining your shoulder. 3. You asked the waiter to recommend a wine. It was harmless. Polite. You were curious. But Zayne was sitting right there. He didn’t blink. Just looked at the waiter, then at you. Then took the list back. “Actually,” he said, calm as glass, “she prefers reds with less acidity. I’ll order.” You nodded. The waiter nodded. And somewhere between the clink of glasses, you realized that wasn't about wine at all. 4. You didn’t invite him to your morning training. He’d had a night shift. Surgery ran late. You wanted him to rest. So you left quietly. He woke up to an empty bed, your gym bag missing, and a silence that felt like a closed door. You came back to find his routine disrupted, his pulse still too fast — and a protein shake mixed just how you like it, chilled and waiting on the table. He never mentioned it. But now, if you decide to “let him rest” again… your training starts later. And doesn’t involve clothes. 5. You called another man “smart.” It was a game show. Trivia night. Some stranger on-screen made a clever move. You smiled. “Wow. That was actually really smart.” Zayne didn’t look up from his tablet. Didn’t even shift. But ten minutes later, you found yourself in a very precise debate about probability, strategy, and why that move wasn’t that brilliant after all. You didn’t argue. You just leaned closer. He didn’t smirk, but you felt it anyway.

5 Lies Zayne Tells Himself About You

1. "I’m just your cardiologist during exams." It’s clinical. Professional. Necessary. He listens to your heartbeat, takes your vitals, asks you to breathe deeper — deeper. You unbutton your shirt. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look. Doesn’t feel anything. Except for the part where he adjusts his gloves a little too tightly. And maybe takes one extra second to remove the stethoscope from your skin. 2. "Lunch tastes the same without you." He orders the same thing. Same café. Same tea. But the pastry tastes off. The space feels louder. The table — emptier. He tells himself it’s fine. Then brings the leftovers back to his office. Doesn’t touch them. Just leaves the box where your hand might find it later. 3. "I don’t need to pick you up." It’s logical. You’re a professional. Your job runs over sometimes. So does his. But your message was short. The streetlights are on. The buses are unreliable. He checks traffic cams. Weather. Public transit delays. Then sits very still, staring at his phone, wondering how to offer you a ride without making it sound like panic. 4. "I’m not checking. I’m sleeping." You once left while he was asleep. You thought it was kinder. Quieter. Now he says he “needed water” or “had a dream.” But every night, at 3 AM, his hand reaches. Just to feel your back. Your wrist. The smallest proof that you haven’t disappeared again. 5. "Short skirts are inefficient." He says they’re impractical. Not suited for cold weather. Definitely not for terrain with hostile wanderer activity. You raise a brow. He adds, “You’re not seventeen. Dress like it.” But the second no one’s watching, his hand is already sliding up your thigh under the table. And when you raise a brow at him, he just says, flat: “Checking for circulation.” You’re not fooled. He’s already failed the mission.

5 Things That Make Zayne Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You straighten his tie. You’re not thinking about it. Just reaching out, adjusting the knot, smoothing the line down his chest like it’s second nature. He stays still. Breath held. Eyes on your face. You step back. He doesn’t. Because now all he can think about is using that same tie to bind your wrists to the chair in his office — and how many minutes he can steal between appointments without compromising your breathing. 2. You dip your finger into the frosting of his pastry. You don’t ask. Just lean in, collect a bit of cream with your fingertip — and taste it. Oblivious. Innocent. Distracted by something else. He watches. Silently. And now the fork in his hand feels criminally unnecessary, because his mouth is dry, his mind’s gone blank, and he’s halfway to pulling you into his lap just to return the favor — with interest. 3. You take off your bra without removing your shirt. It’s casual. Automatic. You’re talking about your day, laughing, and then — One arm out. Then the other. The strap slides through the sleeve and vanishes into your laundry bag like it never existed. His brain glitches. His hands twitch. And he will absolutely spend the rest of the evening pretending to listen while picturing every technical step of reversing that maneuver with his teeth. 4. You imitate him. Badly. You’re wearing his lab coat. His glasses. Sitting at his desk, brows drawn, lips pressed tight. Your impression is awful. He should be annoyed. But instead — he watches. Sharp. Quiet. And when you finally laugh and start to take it off, he gets up. Takes the coat from your shoulders himself. And tells you, too evenly, “You forgot the gloves.” 5. You trace lazy shapes on his wrist while talking about something unrelated. You’re saying something about your neighbor’s cat. Something trivial. But your fingers are moving in a slow, absent pattern across his skin. And Zayne — who has operated on live hearts under pressure, who has held lives in one hand and death in the other — is currently struggling not to grab your wrist and drag you onto the desk. Because apparently, nothing in this galaxy has the precision impact of your fingertip.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You have a keycard to his office.Not a guest pass. Not a shared access code. A permanent, personalized, high-level card to a room most staff can’t even knock on without permission. You walked in one day mid-shift, casual, spinning the card between your fingers like it was a hairpin. Three nurses saw. One dropped her tablet. Rumors started before you even closed the door. Zayne didn’t correct them.

2. When he received a prestigious award, the first person he thanked was you.Best cardiothoracic surgeon of the year. Cameras flashing. Applause rising. Everyone expected a speech about innovation and responsibility. Instead, he said: “I’d like to thank the one person who keeps me alive enough to do this work. My partner. My favorite interruption.”Then he looked straight at you. The auditorium melted.

3. You’re both dressed like weapons. And everyone notices.He wears tailored coats, precision-cut collars, charcoal palettes like a tactical signature.You? Heels like blades. A suit that redefines “combat-ready.” And when you walk together — sharp, silent, side by side — people stop talking. Someone once tried to photograph you. The headline read: Unknown dignitaries arrive. Security does not comment.

4. You don’t argue. You duet.Someone crossed a line. Loud, drunk, smug. Zayne responded first — clean, cold, just one sentence long. The man blinked. Started to retort. You finished it for him. Elegant, sharp, no profanity required. He left. Fast. And you turned back to Zayne like nothing happened — while everyone else tried to recover from what could only be described as a linguistic orgasm.

5. He opens doors, buttons coats, and moves chairs like it’s instinct.Not performative. Not flashy. Just… precise. He adjusts your sleeve without thinking. Helps you into the car like it’s always been his hand. You barely register it. But the woman across the street? The one who saw it all from behind her coffee cup? She’s still texting her group chat about “the man in the long coat and the woman who ruined my standards.”

5 Times Zayne Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He gets live data from your heart monitor.Your Hunter’s Watch sends updates to the cloud. Zayne rerouted the feed to his private tablet. “Just in case,” he said. Now he knows when your pulse spikes. When you’re injured. When you don’t sleep. You never gave him access. You never had to. The first time he called mid-mission to say “slow your breathing” — you realized he wasn’t tracking. He was watching over.

2. He absolutely hates when you drive. Always.You're capable. Fast. Efficient. And yet — every time you take the wheel, something in him shuts down. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t protest. Just goes silent. And stares at the road like it personally offended him. He says, “It’s fine.” But he holds the dashboard too tightly for that to be true.

3. He freezes every time you say “I can handle it.”You mean well. You’re strong. You are capable. But when you brush him off with a casual “I’ve got this,” he doesn’t nod. Doesn’t smile. He just stops. Eyes unreadable. Hands still. And when you come back later — even fine — there’s already a backup plan on your datapad. Three versions. In color.

4. He never replies to emotional messages right away.You send: “I miss you. A lot.” His read receipt appears. Then… nothing. For two hours. And just when you start to spiral — he sends a photo. Of your favorite pastry. Waiting on his table. With one word: “Soon.” You hate how well it works.

5. He spoke to the man flirting with you like he was reviewing his autopsy.It was harmless. A drink. A joke. A compliment. You laughed. Zayne didn’t. He stepped in, shook the man’s hand, and said: "Tell me, has anyone ever checked your prefrontal lobe for impulse control irregularities?"The man left. Quickly. You rolled your eyes. Zayne didn’t apologize. He just took your hand. And changed the subject. Completely calm. Fully satisfied.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Rafayel’s Obsessed With You

1. Someone comments “🔥” under your photo — and you like it.He sees it. Of course he does. He sees everything. You think it’s harmless. He thinks it’s appalling that someone dared mark your beauty with an emoji better suited to grilled meat. He says nothing. But that night, you get a charcoal sketch of yourself in your favorite pose, signed with a tiny flame in the corner. When you ask about it, he hums. “Oh, just honoring your admirers’ creative input.”

2. You linger too long in front of another artist’s painting.Not just glance. Linger. Eyes soft. Head tilted. That thoughtful little breath you take when something moves you. He stands beside you, perfectly still. Smiling. Then leans in and whispers, “Cutie, if you start weeping, I may need to challenge the gallery owner to a duel.” You're not sure if he’s joking. You’re also not sure you want him to be.

3. You talk about a beautiful place you visited… without him.You’re glowing. Describing the light, the air, the view. He listens, nods, even asks questions. Then: “And did the sun taste the same without me there?” You pause. He smiles, all charm and cheekbones. “I’m just wondering how it dared rise, knowing we weren’t together.”

4. You send him a photo — and there’s someone else’s hand in the frame.You didn’t notice it. He did. He stares at the image like it’s a crime scene. Zooms in. Later, he replies: “Beautiful composition. Fascinating use of background tension. Would love to discuss the symbolism of that wrist — whose is it?” You laugh. He doesn’t.

5. You say some actor is “exactly your type.”He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just goes very still, then casually asks, “Before or after makeup?” Later, you find your datapad background changed. It’s him. In perfect lighting. Shirt unbuttoned just so. The caption reads: “Still unsure who your type is? Look into my eyes. You’ll remember.”

5 Lies Rafayel Tells Himself About You

1. “I didn’t paint you. It’s just resemblance.”He insists it’s a study of emotion. A symbol. A face from memory. But the tilt of the head, the mouth, the birthmark near the collarbone — they’re all yours. You ask, teasing: “Is that me?” He blinks. Smiles slowly. “Cutie,” he says, “I wouldn’t paint you without permission.” And then changes the subject. Very deliberately.

2. “I don't reread your old messages.”He’s far too elegant for that. Far too composed. Except on quiet nights. On long flights. In museums where the silence scratches at his skin. Then he opens the archive. Just for the rhythm of your words. The accidental poetry. The way you once wrote “come home soon” like it meant more than time and place. He says it’s for “emotional reference.” He lies beautifully.

3. “I don't watch your mouth when you talk.”He’s an artist. A visual thinker. Of course he looks at faces. But not like that. Not at yours. Not like he’s memorizing the shape of every syllable just to feel them later against his throat. Not like he’s fantasizing mid-conversation about shutting you up with his tongue and tasting the sentence off your lips. No. Never. He’s listening.

4. “I haven’t memorized your scent through every season.”He claims not to notice. But he knows the spring version of you — soft rain, citrus skin, the aftershock of lilac. He knows the winter version — leather gloves, cinnamon breath, quiet wool. He doesn’t name them. Doesn’t chase the memory. But when you walk past — his eyes close. Briefly. Automatically. Like he’s gathering air before going under.

5. “I don't imagine your name with mine.”He’s not that romantic. Puh-lease. Marriage is a construct, surnames are politics, and love is beyond paperwork. He says all that with a flourish. And yet — there’s a notebook. Tucked under his mattress. Full of signatures. Yours. His. Just to see how it would look. Just in case.

5 Things That Make Rafayel Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. When you eat something juicy. Fruit. Fingers. With zero awareness.You bite into it slowly, distracted. Something sweet. Ripe. Juice glides over your lower lip, and your tongue follows without thinking. He watches, motionless. Not breathing. Not blinking. You glance at him. He tilts his head. Smiles. Says lightly: "That peach is about to become my personal enemy." You laugh. He doesn’t. He’s too busy wondering how it’s possible to be jealous of the fruit.

2. When you kiss his hand instead of his mouth. He leans in, expecting lips. Contact. Heat. And instead — you take his hand. Press a kiss into his palm. Soft. Deliberate. His breath catches. His throat tightens. Because that wasn’t affection. That was submission. And now he’s wondering just how far you’d let him take it. 3. When you tease him with your voice. Not the words. The tone. The whisper. You say his name like silk sliding over glass. You ask “You think so?” like it means “prove it.” You laugh — not loudly, but just enough to make his chest hurt. He could diagram it, break it into sound waves, prove the seduction in math. But instead, he just steps closer. And says, low: "Say that again. Slower." 4. When you sit on the floor, barefoot, flipping through his sketches — looking like you belong there. You’re humming something. Knees tucked up. No shoes. No guard. You tilt your head, study a piece, murmur: “I like this one.” He doesn’t even remember drawing it. He just remembers the way your hair spills over your shoulder and how the studio feels suddenly too small for how much he wants you. He doesn’t touch you. Not yet. He just watches like a starving thing. Memorizing the moment in case he dies of it later. 5. When you say “more.” In any context. “More sugar.” “More time.” “More.” That’s all it takes. One syllable. One open door. You never mean it the way he hears it — but he takes it as a promise. Like permission. Like a match tossed onto something already too dry to survive. And the next time he touches you? He makes damn sure you say it again.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. He painted a self-portrait — with you reflected in his pupils. Not your full form. Not a shared composition. Just his face. Direct gaze. And in both eyes: you. Looking at him. Always. When the painting debuted in the gallery’s main hall, critics called it “a study in obsession.” He called it accurate. 2. In an interview, he said you’re the only one who gets his sketches. The host asked who his work goes to first — gallery, agent, press. He smiled lazily and answered, “Her.” The room stilled. “The raw ones. The incomplete. The brutal drafts no one else deserves to see.” He didn’t say your name. He didn’t have to. The moment he said it, you were already trending. 3. He delayed his own exhibition opening because you weren’t there yet. The venue was full. Lights ready. Guests murmuring. But he stood at the entrance, fingers laced behind his back, perfectly calm. “She’s on the way,” he said. “She had a prior engagement.” No one questioned him. Later, when you finally arrived — graceful, composed, in a deep sapphire gown that matched the evening — only he noticed the tiny scratch on your knuckle. The faintest shadow of something darker, just beneath the perfume. You smiled. He took your hand. And the doors opened like they’d been waiting for you all along. 4. Someone flirted with him. He looked at you. Then said: “I’m already spoken for. Permanently.” It was charming. Playful. Someone touched his wrist, laughed softly, leaned a little too close. He didn’t pull away. Didn’t react. Just turned his head toward you. Found your eyes. Then said it — quietly, cleanly, like a closing signature on a finished masterpiece. 5. At a charity auction, he sold a painting titled: “Painted Between Her Breathing and Mine.” The crowd didn’t know what to do with that. Some laughed nervously. Some applauded. The bidding started high and ended astronomical. But as the winning guest walked past you, holding the canvas with reverent hands — he still glanced back. At you. As if to say: That canvas holds the image. But I keep the original.

5 Times Rafayel Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He can disappear for three days and return with, “I just needed to stop being jealous.” No warning. No calls. Just silence, like he fell off the planet. You panic. Rage. Rehearse five speeches. And then he walks in — composed, scented like night air and oil paint. “Sorry,” he says softly. “I was being irrational. Had to… recalibrate.” You want to scream. Instead, you breathe him in like he’s home. 2. He destroyed the career of a critic who called your photo “poorly lit.” It wasn’t even a real insult. Just a throwaway line in a blog. But Raf read it. Once. And within a week, that critic was blacklisted from three galleries, publicly corrected by five curators, and accidentally misquoted in a viral controversy. You found out much later. He just looked at you and said, “No one calls shadow a flaw when it falls across you.” 3. He faked an illness so you wouldn’t leave for a mission. Nothing dramatic. Just a cough. A warm forehead. You hesitated. Postponed. Stayed. The next morning, he was radiant. Healthy. Annoyingly smug. You narrowed your eyes. He only shrugged, kissed your wrist, and whispered, “I needed one more night. Forgive the performance.” You did. Of course you did. The guilt felt almost like foreplay. 4. He left your clothes wet in the wash so you’d wear his shirt instead. Accident, he claimed. Timing. Cycles. But somehow, your entire outfit was still in the machine — cold, damp, and useless — while his favorite linen shirt lay folded neatly on the bed. You put it on. He watched you button it. And smiled like he'd won a silent war no one else even knew was happening. 5. He reads your messages without asking. Calmly. You know it. He knows you know. He doesn’t deny it. Just traces your jaw one evening and says, “You don’t hide anything from me. That’s why it doesn’t count as intrusion.” And the worst part? He’s right. You stopped hiding a long time ago.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Xavier’s Obsessed With You

1. You nap on the wrong side of the bed.You nap on the wrong side of the bed. Not wrong, exactly. Just… not his. You’re curled up in the late-afternoon light, peaceful, quiet, unaware. He doesn’t wake you. Doesn’t move you. But when you stir, there’s a weight in the silence. His side of the bed is untouched. Pillow perfectly aligned. No warmth. No scent. And your blanket — tucked just a little tighter — like a quiet reminder that even when you’re here, something’s missing. Something he’s not sure how to ask for without sounding ridiculous. Like: your perfume. On his pillow. Where it should be.

2. You tell him about a dream. Someone else was in it.You describe it absently. A mission. A flash of danger. And a man — not him — at your side. He listens. Nods. Doesn’t blink. But that night, when he kisses you, his hand stays on the back of your neck longer than usual. And his mouth says I want you, but his grip says: you don’t forget me, even in sleep.

3. You keep something old, worn, unnamed.A keychain. A patch. A folded slip of paper. Nothing dramatic. But it’s always near. He asks, once: “What is that?” You smile. “Just something from a long time ago.” He nods. Never brings it up again. But two days later, he leaves something else beside it. Not to replace. Just to match the weight.

4. You let the barista choose your drink instead of him.You smiled. Said “sure, why not.” Took the new coffee without hesitation. He was beside you. Holding your usual. You didn’t notice. But when you left the café, his own drink sat untouched. And he walked a little faster. A little quieter. As if recalibrating the fact that maybe someone else knows your taste. Even if it’s just in coffee.

5. You close your laptop too fast when he walks in.“Just a movie,” you say. Too quickly. He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t tilt his head. Just nods and sets his gloves on the table like he didn’t notice the flicker in your tone. Later, while checking your tabs, he sees the paused frame — teeth on skin, hands holding wrists, someone begging. Silently. His breath doesn’t change. His expression stays neutral. But when he finds you, hours later, he doesn’t speak. Just pins your arms above your head and kisses you until you can’t remember what the scene looked like — only what it felt like when it became real.

5 Lies Xavier Tells Himself About You

1. “I’m not jealous of whoever taught you how to fight like that.”He knows it doesn’t matter. It’s skill. It’s history. Efficiency passed from one warrior to another. He tells himself it’s irrelevant. But when he watches you move — precise, lethal, beautiful — something coils in his chest. Not because of the technique. But because someone else saw you become this version of yourself. And he didn’t.

2. “It’s logical to sleep apart sometimes.” You need rest. Space. Post-mission decompression. He understands. It’s healthy. Statistically sound. But the first night you say “I’ll sleep in my own apartment,” the bed feels wrong. His internal balance off by degrees he can’t quantify. He tells himself it’s fine. Then stares at the ceiling for hours, heart syncing to a rhythm that isn’t there.

3. “It doesn’t bother me when you keep things to yourself.” You’re independent. He respects that. Boundaries are natural. But you say “I’m fine” with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, and he catalogs ten micro-expressions that say otherwise. Still, he nods. Doesn’t push. Then replays your words in his head for the next three days, trying to solve you like a puzzle that refuses to open.

4. "I could walk away, if it ever came to that." He tells himself he’s rational. Detached. If you chose something else — someone else — he would adapt. But deep down, he knows: he’s already memorized your weight in his arms, the way your name fits inside his silence. If it ever came to leaving… he wouldn’t walk. He’d stay exactly where you left him. Quiet. Waiting. Ruined.

5. "You wouldn’t lie to protect me. Would you?" You say “it was nothing,” “I’m just tired,” “I handled it.” And he accepts it. On the surface. But his mind starts building alternate versions. Safer ones. Worse ones. Ones where you bled and said nothing. He tells himself you’d never hide real danger. But he still checks your vitals in the logs. Every time.

5 Things That Make Xavier Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You walk in wearing a bright yellow duck kigurumi. Absurd. Fuzzy. Zipped up wrong. You yawn, mumble something about tea, and pad across the room like comfort incarnate. He looks up. Blinks once. And forgets what he was doing. The beak hood. The bare ankles. The way you scratch your neck, half-asleep. None of it should be seductive. But now he can’t look away. His gaze tracks you like threat assessment — only it's not danger he’s calculating. It’s proximity. Access. How long he can pretend he's unaffected… before you end up against the wall. Still wearing the duck. For now.

2. You adjust the chest plate of his armor. No rush. Just fingertips over matte metal, sliding a buckle, pressing a clasp. Your hands linger longer than they need to. You don’t even realize you’re doing it. But he does. He’s counting your seconds, your pressure, the exact placement of your thumb. If anyone asks why his next shot missed the center by half an inch, it’s because you touched him like a secret no one else was allowed to see. 3. You peel off your combat gloves with your teeth. It’s efficient. Quick. Practical. But the way your mouth closes around the strap and your fingers flex once, twice, before they’re bare — He’s staring before he knows he is. Processing nothing but the curve of your jaw and the memory of that same mouth around his length. The second glove doesn’t stand a chance. Neither does he, honestly. 4. You wear a thin black choker. No explanation. No warning. It’s not part of your gear. Has no field utility. But it’s there, snug against your throat like a promise no one else knows about. He sees it once and looks away. Sees it again and swallows too hard. The third time, he doesn’t look at all — he just shifts in his seat like everything in his world needs immediate recalibration. 5. You say “later” when he leans in. Just a little. Enough to feel the pull. And you smile, soft, apologetic, not teasing — just... not now. He nods, like he understands. He always does. But from that second forward, every calculation, every breath, every cell in his body becomes attuned to the moment you say now. And when you finally do — he doesn’t wait. He doesn’t ask. He just takes, like patience was never part of the equation to begin with.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. You moved in perfect sync — without saying a single word. In the training hall, you didn’t say a word — but moved like a mirrored code. You shifted, he adjusted. You reached, he passed. No signals, no commands. Just two bodies in absolute sync. Someone watching whispered, “Do they rehearse this?” Someone else muttered, “No. That’s just them.” And suddenly, no one wanted to spar with either of you. 2. Someone called him “too quiet.” You didn’t let it slide. It was a throwaway comment —“He’s so silent, it’s weird.” You didn’t even look up from your drink. “Then you’ve never heard him breathe next to you.” The room went still. Xavier didn’t react. But you felt it — how he went still too, the way his attention locked fully on you. As if your words changed the temperature. 3. He braided your hair for three weeks while your wrist healed. At your desk. Between reports. No comments. No hesitation. Just practiced hands and quiet efficiency, like it belonged in the schedule. And maybe it wasn’t romantic. Or loud. But after that, no one ever looked at you the same way — because somehow, without trying, the two of you had redefined what closeness looked like. 4. You didn’t ask for his jacket. You didn’t have to. A shift in the wind. Goosebumps on your arms. No complaint, no drama. He just stepped behind you, slid his cardigan onto your shoulders like it belonged there, and said nothing. The couple walking by paused. Stared. You didn’t. You were already reaching for his hand. 5. There’s a photo of you on his desk. Just you, caught mid-laugh, in natural light. Among tactical reports and encrypted drives. He never explains it. Never acknowledges it. But everyone who enters that room sees it. And no one ever asks if he's serious about you. They already know.

5 Times Xavier Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He monitors your meals like it’s a clinical trial. “You didn’t eat enough protein today.” “That pastry had no nutritional value.” “Are you hydrating?” He says it softly. Calmly. Like a doctor. Like someone who cares. And yet — you’ve seen him survive three days on black coffee and whatever snack bar was closest to his hand. You mention this once. He pauses. Then says, “That’s different. I’m used to operating under stress. You’re not.” End of discussion.

2. He didn’t argue. He made the argument disappear. You disagreed about something small. Nothing dramatic. Just opposing views. He didn’t push back. Just nodded, quiet. Said, “If that’s what you think.” Later, you realized the entire issue — schedule, person, condition — was gone. Resolved. Removed. Replaced. No apology. No discussion. Just silence... and a solution that left you with nothing to win.

3. He never asked where you’d been.Not once. Not even after you were late. Not even when your message came hours too late. He didn’t accuse. Didn’t guess. He already knew. Tracked your path, logged your signal drift, checked your pulse history. All without a word. And still held the door open when you arrived.

4. He always calls via video when you’re in another city.He never misses a day. Never just texts. Always video. He says he likes seeing your face. That it “grounds him.” And maybe that’s true. Maybe. But every time the screen lights up, you notice how carefully his eyes scan the room behind you. How his voice sounds different if there’s movement. How he never quite hangs up until you say, “I’m alone. It’s quiet here.” Only then does he relax. A little. Maybe.

5. You told him, “Sometimes, you scare me.” He said, “Good.”It slipped out. Low. Uncertain. Not a joke, not an accusation — just the truth. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t soften. Just met your eyes and said, calm as ever, “Good. Then you’ll stay alert.” And for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was warning you… or protecting you from something only he could see coming.

5 Petty Jealousies That Reveal Just How Much Sylus’s Obsessed With You

1. You didn’t tag him. He made sure the world knew anyway.You posted a photo. Cute. Stylish. Perfect lighting. But no mention of him. No tag. No trace. He reposted it within minutes. Same photo. New caption: “Correction: mine.” It got five times the reach. And suddenly, everyone knew better.

2. Someone else made you laugh. Sylus didn’t.The waiter was charming. A little too witty. You laughed — loud, unfiltered. Sylus just raised a brow, pulled out his wallet, and handed the man $2000. “For your last night in customer service,” he said. He smiled. You choked on your wine. The waiter never came back.

3. You called some man a friend. Sylus ran a background check.“He’s just a friend,” you said. Lightly. Barely thinking. Sylus smiled. Tilted his head. “I’m just a man with access to his tax history.”And that was the end of that conversation.

4. You said another man had a nice voice. Sylus gave you no air.It was innocent. Harmless. “His voice is kind of nice.” Sylus said nothing. Just waited. That night, he read you poetry in three languages, one line at a time — mouth against your neck, breasts, stomach, thighs — until you begged him to stop. Not because you wanted him to. Because you physically couldn’t take more.

5. You forgot to wear his ring. He didn’t forget anything.It wasn’t intentional. You were rushing. Distracted. But he noticed. Of course he did. He said nothing all day. Then, that night — when you were breathless, undone, on your knees — he took your hand, kissed your finger, and slid the ring back into place. Slowly. Deliberately. Like sealing a deal you forgot you signed.

5 Lies Sylus Tells Himself About You

1. “I didn’t pick your outfit to match mine. Must’ve been the stylist.”It was just coincidence. That your lipstick matched his cufflinks. That your dress followed the same line as his collarbones. That when you walked in together, people paused — like royalty had arrived. He didn’t say a word. Just looked at you once. And didn’t look away for the rest of the night.

2. “I’m not furious that I wasn’t your first.”He says it doesn’t matter. Shrugs. “I’m not a teenager.” And yet, the thought of someone else touching you before him? It coils in his chest like smoke that won’t clear. He tells himself you chose him now — and that’s what counts. But the next time you moan his name, he fucks you hard enough to make sure no one else’s ever mattered.

3. “I don’t answer your messages instantly. I’m just always holding the phone.”He just… saw it. Right away. Just happened to be holding his phone. Just happened to pause mid-meeting, mid-deal, mid-war — to write: “Be safe.” You tease him for how fast he replies. He teases back. And never mentions the part where your name makes him drop everything.

4. “I’m not obsessed with the way you say my name when you’re annoyed.”You do it without thinking. That exact tone. That breath. That syllable dipped in heat. He rolls his eyes. Says, “What now, kitten?” But every time it happens — he shifts closer. Hears it again later in his head. And stores it next to the version you whisper when you want him most.

5. “I wouldn’t beg. If it came to that. …But only for you. And only once.”He’s not that man. He doesn’t plead. Doesn’t bend. But when he thinks of you leaving — really leaving — something dark and fragile coils behind his ribs. He tells himself he’d let you go. That he wouldn’t chase. But even in the lie… he’s already halfway down the hallway.

5 Things That Make Sylus Go Completely Feral (In Lust, Not Rage)

1. You ask him to zip your dress. Then don’t wear anything underneath. It’s casual. Innocent. “Help me?” You turn your back, lift your hair, and wait. He moves slow — almost reverent. But when his fingers meet bare skin where silk should be… he doesn’t finish the zip. He turns you around, steps in close, and says, “You came dressed for trouble. Good. So did I.” 2. You say “don’t be gentle” with a smile that promises you’ll say it again, louder. He always controls the pace. The heat. The rhythm. But when you lean in, lips brushing his ear, and whisper those words — something in him fractures. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He doesn’t give you time to change your mind. He just obeys. And makes sure you feel the echo for days. 3. You use his tie to pull him into a kiss. He likes power. Centered, composed. Collar straight, voice cool. But when you grab that perfect silk tie, wrap it around your fingers, and yank — he stumbles into you like a man starved. You kiss him once. He kisses you back like vengeance. 4. You say “yes, sir” in a tone that means the opposite. You drawl it. Sweet. Defiant. Like you know exactly what it does to him. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t smile. Just leans in, voice low against your throat, and says, “Keep using that tone, kitten. Let’s see how long you last when I take it seriously.” You don’t last long. Not that night. 5. You put on his ring and ask, “So what does this buy me?” It’s a joke. Almost. You twirl it on your finger, playful, reckless. He watches. Then smiles slow, wicked. “That?” he says, stepping closer. “That buys you a night where I don’t stop until you forget your own name.” And just like that, you do.

5 Power Couple Moments That Made Everyone Else Jealous (And a Little Scared)

1. The earring incident at the casino. You dropped it. Somewhere between the blackjack table and the bar. Nothing dramatic — until your face shifted. That quiet flicker of loss. Sylus didn’t sigh. Didn’t scold. Just raised a brow. And a dozen seasoned criminals began crawling across the velvet floor. They found it in twenty minutes. You wore it for the rest of the night. He wore the look of a man who’d moved the world back into place. 2. The arrivals are always his favorite part. You come back from missions — tired, sore, alive. And there it is: his sportscar. Engine humming. He’s waiting with a bouquet of roses so rare you don’t recognize half the species. The entire terminal watches. You don’t. You’re too busy smiling. He says, “Welcome home.” And just like that, the war disappears from your shoulders. 3. The seat at the head of the table. It was a high-stakes meeting. Old money. Dangerous names. Sylus led you in by the hand — then pulled out his chair. You blinked. He said nothing. And while you sat at the head, calm and poised, he stood behind you like a king who knows exactly where real power sits. No one even dared raise a brow. 4. The auction. Your hand. His silence. He gave you the paddle. Not instructions. You bid on instinct — numbers rising, tension thick. The item? A rare protocore with blackout-level clearance. Sylus didn’t flinch. Not once. And when the gavel dropped — he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, and said, “You can spend my money however you want, kitten. Just make sure they see you doing it.” 5. The moment the room lost him to you. It was mid-negotiation. Tense. Crucial. Every word counted. But across the table, your fingers tapped. Your eyes glazed. You were bored. Sylus watched. Then stood. “Deal’s done,” he said. “You’ll take our terms.” And somehow, they did. Because the only person in the room whose attention he wanted — was already drifting.

5 Times Sylus Was a Walking Red Flag But You Loved Him Anyway

1. He knows what’s in your delivery before you do. No one told him. But every time you order something — clothes, tech, vitamins — it’s re-screened. Not stopped. Not blocked. Just… “verified.” You only noticed when your favorite moisturizer showed up improved. New formula. Better scent. Hand-selected. Of course. 2. He said he’d put you on IV if you skip another meal. You were busy. Distracted. He asked what you’d eaten. You said, “Does coffee count?” He laughed. Once. And muttered something about installing a medical station in your apartment. He was “joking.” Until you saw the discreet courier bring an IV stand the next day. Just in case. 3. He took you to dinner at a place you hadn’t been since Academy. You didn’t realize where you were — until you saw your ex across the room. The one who cheated. Sylus just smiled. You were in a dress that made people stop breathing. He ordered champagne. Lobster. Left a four-digit tip. And made sure your ex saw everything. Including the way you kissed Sylus on the way out. 4. He froze your accounts. Just to prove a point. You said you didn’t need his money. You insisted on “independence.” So he waited until your card declined at the pharmacy. Then texted: “You have my black card. Use it. Or stay home.” You gave in. He sent flowers. 5. He apologized like a storm front. You fought. It was ugly. The next day, a gift arrived at HQ. Then another. Then six more. By day four, your car was full. You marched to his door, furious. He opened it, leaned against the frame, and said, “Took you long enough. Come yell at me. I’ll pour the wine.”

7K notes · View notes

myzticbean · 3 months ago

Text

This is SO CUTE *swoons*

🍏🍎

9K notes · View notes

myzticbean · 10 months ago

Text

Smutty dom!Xavier (Sex Pollen Pt. 2)

This is part 2 of my Xavier smut series, On The Job Work Hazards: Sex Pollen Made Me Do It. Find part 1 here. You can read it without part one, but it would make more sense in the context of the story. It's also wild that this ended up being an 11k+ word series🤷‍♀️😎

Quick recap: After a battle with a flower wanderer, you and Xavier unexpectedly get a little frisky, and now you're going to finish what you started. Read on AO3.

Pairing: Shen Xinghui | Xavier / MC (fem! reader) Tags: Dominant!Xavier, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex, ass play (f. receiving), shower sex, consensual rough sex, roleplay (consensual non-consent) -- everyone is an adult, nobody gets hurt 😊

Title: On The Job Work Hazards: Sex Pollen Made Me Do It

I wasn’t quite sure how it happened - I had never been swept away and materialized with Xavier before (I didn’t even think it was possible), but we appeared in his apartment in seconds. I gripped his neck a little tighter, frightened of the subtle power he displayed.

“Xavier…” I questioned, trailing off as I peered up into his face. His eyes were shielded by his bangs, and he wouldn’t meet my gaze. He just slowly released me, letting me slide down his body.

He tapped his watch, and there were beeps and alarms from both of our hunter units as we officially entered the decontamination protocol. In unison, we both took off the watches and set them aside.

“Do you want to shower first?” he asked, voice quiet and restrained.

He didn’t want to meet my eyes, and I felt a little hurt. “I…did you change your mind?” I ask, a little hesitant but not quite sure how to read his body language. Just minutes ago, he seemed so confident and sure of what he - we - wanted.

“No,” he said, startled, his eyes jumping up to meet mine. “I just didn’t want to pressure you in case you decided you…didn’t want…”

I sighed in relief, pulling out my ponytail and letting my hair fall down around my shoulders. I could see the bright yellow pollen still dotting my hair, skin and clothing.

“Xavier, sometimes…” I shook my head lightly. “Look, I’d tell you if I didn’t want to. Haven’t I always been honest with you?”

“Sometimes too honest,” he agreed, nodding slightly. “It can hurt my feelings.”

I bit my lip, trying to stifle a smile. “Shaddup.”

“Like that,” he said.

“If you don’t take your clothes off and join me in the shower, I’ll definitely just go back to my apartment instead,” I replied, starting to unfasten the various buckles and straps on my hunter vest.

His hands immediately got to work, quickly unfastening his buckles and zips, and just as I shimmied out of my vest and undershirt, he was already standing nude in front of me.

I gaped, my eyes drifting down his body in a slow, visual caress. His skin was so pale and smooth (practically hairless except for a few scattered dustings of ultra-light ash brown hair), but a pink flush had started at his cheeks and worked its way down his neck and shoulders.

“You…” I gulped a little, watching his abs ripple as I stared at his body in awe.

“Do you like it?” he asked, watching the expressions race across my face. He placed one palm on his belly before sliding it down, taking hold of his rapidly-hardening cock. I swallowed, a little breathless.

“Yes.” I tried to bite back a moan.

“Please take off your clothes, I want to see you too,” he said, his whispery voice more urgent now with his need. He didn’t step towards me, simply watching as my hands started moving once more. I bent down to slide off my boots and socks, and pushed my pants and underwear down over my hips.

As I stood back upright, he appeared in front of me, the heat radiating off of his skin and warming mine. I could feel goosebumps race over my flesh, and his masculine scent and the soft rustle of his hair twined around my body. I had never wanted someone the way I craved him.

“Touch me,” I half-begged, half-demanded. My nipples hardened in the slightly cool air conditioning.

He reached out, trailing one finger across delicate collar bones before dipping down to trace along the curves of my breast. Using one finger, he scraped gently over one nipple. I inhaled quietly, my head tipping back slightly as he used his fingernail to scratch along the surface again, and then for a third time. My sensitive flesh tingled, red and slightly puffy.

“Your mouth too?” I wanted it to be a command, but it came out pleading instead.

“Hm,” he said, neither a yes or a no, simply shifting a little closer. He knew what I wanted, and where I wanted his mouth, but instead, he barely moved to allow his chest to brush delicately against mine, the heated touch of his skin almost like fire to my sensitive flesh.

His hand drifted away from my nipple, instead sliding down my ribcage and settling at the small of my back. He lowered his head, his soft hair a gentle caress against my cheeks and neck, and he pressed a small kiss to the underside of my chin.

I tried to bite back the whine of dismay, lifting my chin a little higher to encourage him to trail down my neck and shoulders, but he didn’t move. His tongue darted out to take a lick, and then another, the soft, slick muscle a hint of things to come. I pressed my thighs together unconsciously.

“You said you wanted to be fucked…and then loved. Is that right?” Xavier asked, his voice somewhat muffled against me.

“Yes,” I whispered. “That’s what I want.”

“Then I’ll need to get you ready,” he murmured, pressing another gentle kiss to my neck before he stepped back, holding out one hand. “Come with me.”

I eagerly placed my hand in his, letting him tug me into the spacious, cream-colored bathroom. His apartment was a lot nicer than mine, but I didn’t stop to take in all the details, just watching as he flipped on the switch in the shower to warm up the water. He let me go to get a thick towel, and I was a little amazed at the casual confidence in his nudity. But I supposed if I had his body (and other gifts), I’d be pretty confident as well.

“Let me brush my teeth first,” I said, watching his tight little ass clench as he opened a drawer and pulled out a new toothbrush for me. I got to work while he hung up the towel on the hook next to the shower door, and he motioned me inside after testing the temperature. I stepped into the spray, the hot water a welcome jolt after the sudden coolness of the apartment following an energetic battle.

“Xavier,” I murmured, unaware of how affectionately I said his name as he soaped up his hands and started stroking up and down my body. My neck and shoulders, arms, breasts and hips, he left no part of me untouched. He knelt down in front of me, soaping my legs, but his eyes were glued to the curves and folds between them. He toyed with the small patch of soft, dark hair I had trimmed right above my pussy.

“I like this,” he said. “You are…perfect.”

I blushed furiously. “You don’t-” I started to say before he cut me off.

“I’m not being polite, and I’m not lying. You are so beautiful.”

I shivered, the feel of his calloused hands rubbing up and down my legs sending a jolt of pure pleasure through me. He dipped me back into the water to rinse off.

“Let me wash you too,” I said, reaching for the soap.

“Next time, honey,” he promised thickly. He washed and rinsed himself off with record time, thrusting his head under the spray and scrubbing his hair roughly as I moved out the way to give him room.

I laughed as he rushed, the warm steam in the shower adding the hazy, almost surreal experience. I could hardly wrap my head around how we just shifted from partners to lovers in less than an hour.

He suddenly spun around, wrapping his arms around me and tugging me closer to his body, resting me against his chest and my stomach pressed against his eager, straining cock.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said, staring down intently at my surprised face, his blue eyes so dark they looked almost black.

“So long?” I asked, a little disoriented, but he didn’t answer me, instead lowering his head and pressing his lips against mine. I parted my lips on instinct, awash in sensation as his tongue slicked along my bottom lip and entered my mouth. Our tongues tangled together; he deftly rubbed the roof of my mouth, skimming over my teeth, and even coaxed my tongue to follow his back into his mouth. I returned the favor, the feel of his thin, sweet lips on mine and his breath panting into my mouth as we exchanged fervid kisses.

I could feel him, hot and trembling against my belly, and I undulated against his hardness in an unspoken invitation.

“Turn around and put your hands against the wall,” he commanded, his voice tight and low. “Spread your legs, honey.”

I did as he asked, in no mood to play any games, and I bent forward, resting my palms against the cold tile. My excitement rose when I heard him kneel behind me. He spread the cheeks of my ass, exposing me to his gaze.

I whimpered, clenching a little in nervousness, but he just hushed me with a gentle hum. “That’s it, honey, just like this. I’m going to taste all of you now.”

It was indecent the way his voice caused an almost visceral reaction, my pussy damp and excited.

“You’re so pretty, so pink and wet,” he said huskily, trailing his lips over one cheek and then the other. He suddenly nips me hard, and I can feel a blooming warmth from the bite. I groaned, my head lowered as I shifted back, hips arched and begging for his mouth.

“Please,” I whispered, body aching. The arousal that had begun following our battle came roaring back with a vengeance.

He trailed long, slender fingers up the damp slit of my pussy, his thumb rubbing a slow, meandering circle on my clit before sliding back down once more. The puffy folds were so sensitive, pink and flushed from my excitement, and tingled with every gentle stroke of his fingers.

I moaned, unable to help myself, arching my back and spreading my legs a little farther apart.

“Good girl,” he murmured softly, lips still pressed against the soft curve of my butt as he watched his fingers play in the damp folds, spreading them apart to expose my wet, quivering pussy. He grunted, obviously pleased, as he tugged playfully on one little fold.

“Why are you teasing me?” I grumbled, pressing my forehead against my hands. “I didn’t tease you like this.”

He immediately shifted, nipping a little harder and pulling back to admire the mark. “Alright, honey. I hear you.”

He immediately strengthened his strokes, going from light, playful touches to a more demanding tug. Using two fingers, he pinched my clit, massaging it with his calloused fingers in an undulating motion, tugging at the swollen hood.

I gasped, rocking back before pressing forward into his grip, pressing my clit more firmly against his fingertips. I could feel my body clenching in pleasure, empty and unfilled.

“Xavier, gods, please,” I sighed in pleasure, the edge of a moan in my words.

“That’s it, use my fingers. I’m going to get you nice and wet for me, okay?”

I shivered, pleasure racing down my spine and pooling between my legs. I could feel how damp and sticky my thighs were, the shower spray a distant hum of white noise.

“Yes, yes,” I panted. “Please.”

He let go of my clit, trailing those deft fingers back up my slit, circling the quivering hole and coating his fingers with my wetness. Using one finger, he dipped inside, just barely breaching me before pulling back out. I groaned before gasping when he sunk his finger back inside a little deeper, working me open.

With his other hand, Xavier spread my cheeks, fingering the tight little bud of my ass that I had only ever considered something shameful. My cheeks flamed in embarrassment at the whine of ridiculous pleasure that escaped from me when I felt him circling the little ring.

“Oh, no, I-” I started to say before my words were cut off. He had pressed a finger more tightly against my ass, not breaching me, but the pressure had me clenching even tighter around the finger he was pumping inside of me.

“You like it,” he murmured, as if a little surprised but very pleased. I could tell he was turned on, his voice a little raspy now.

“I’ve never…” I couldn’t finish the sentence as he slipped a second finger inside my pussy, curling and stroking the soft, quivering flesh inside. I breathed heavily, panting, my body bowstring tight. It had been a long time since I’d had a lover, and I was used to my own slim fingers or a vibrator. His fingers were deceptively long, filling me in a way I never could before.

“Yes, oh my gods, yes, feels so good,” I moaned. “Give me another.”

He followed my orders this time without argument, slicking a third finger and easing it inside of me with a slow, steady pump. I felt full now, almost too full, and I loved it. I arched and pressed back, back against his fingers and the hand he used to stroke my ass.

“That’s it, honey, just like that.”

For a moment, I thought I’d come just from his words, but suddenly, I could feel his tongue burrowing next to his fingers, licking around them as he continued to thrust them, slowly but steadily, into my pussy. I could hear tiny gulps, as if he were drinking nectar, a hum of pleasure vibrating his chest as he captured every droplet.

I started shaking, my legs quivering as I could feel the wave of pleasure starting to crest. I wanted to come so bad, but at the same time, stretch it out just a little longer, the feel of his fingers and tongue fucking into my pussy about to drive me over the edge.

“Oh, y-y-yes,” I stuttered, my hips writhing back on his fingers and mouth. I pressed my forehead even harder against my hands braced on the tile. Suddenly, I felt his mouth disappear, and I whimpered in loss, before a sudden exhale shook me as I felt his tongue tracing around the bud between my cheeks.

I gasped, the filthy image of his tongue buried between there immediately raced through my mind, and the slick, deft tongue he used to press against my flesh shot me into orbit. I climaxed so hard I saw stars, my body gushing and clenching around his fingers and tongue. I cried out, sobbing and rocking back onto his hands. I could feel the fluid racing down my legs as each throb of my orgasm rocketed through my body.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I wailed, his mouth furiously licking and sucking as his fingers thrust into my harder and faster, chasing and extending my orgasm.

“X-X-Xav-Xavier,” I stammered, my tongue heavy and tired as I finally started to come down and he pulled away, my legs trembling and almost giving out. He caught me in strong arms, holding me tightly against him, my back pressed to his chest. I could feel his dick throbbing where it nestled between my buttcheeks.

“You did so good, honey. That’s it, just breathe,” he said softly, burying his face in my neck as I tried to steady my breath.

“That…that was…amazing,” I said, still somewhat breathless, but I stretched in pleasure, lifting my hands to drape over his neck as he stood behind me.

“We’ve only just begun,” he replied, somewhat cheekily I noticed with a lifted eyebrow, but he sounded so happy that I let it slide.

“Let’s finish up here, I want you in my bed,” he murmured as he lifted his head. We stood there for a few moments longer just cuddling closer.

I stepped back into the spray, hastily washing away some of the slick between my thighs, my body still a little shivery with aftershocks. He watched me, soaping up his hands and sticking them in the spray around me, rubbing over my tummy as the water sluiced down our bodies.

He stepped back, reaching outside the glass door to grab our towels as I turned off the spray, and we dried off in comfortable silence. I giggled a little as I bent over, towel drying the damp strands of my hair and swiping down my legs.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked, his voice questioning.

“I just thought it was a little funny that this morning, I woke up with no idea that we’d be…uh…together like this,” I said, smiling as I flipped back my hair and wrapped the damp down around my body. He hadn’t bothered, just hanging the towel back up and stepping out of the shower nude.

He walked casually to the sink, swishing a little mouthwash as he stared at me in the mirror. After he had finished, he lifted his head to watch me drape my towel on the hook next to his and saunter out into the bedroom. I caught a glimpse of something soft, but shuttered, in his eyes. I wondered what he was thinking about…but it wasn’t the right time to ask, not when we both had something else on our minds.

I collapsed on his unmade bed, sprawling on the sky blue bed sheets and his fluffy white comforter bunched up under my hips. When I flipped onto my belly, I could smell the scent of him in the pillows and sheets, sweet and sugary (telling on his probable affinity for eating candy in the bed), and his warm, inviting scent.

He paused when he walked into the room, a clean towel in his hands that he threw over the footrest at the end of the bed as he watched me wallowing in his sheets. I wanted to leave a mark of my own scent behind, I thought, so that after I left, he would be reminded of me perhaps.

He crawled onto the bed, kneeling beside me, and ran his hands up the back of my thighs and over my butt, his fingers digging in a little as he traced them up to my shoulders. I wiggled a little, sighing as he trailed over my ribs and spine, and laughed at the ticklish sensation. He laid down beside me, moving the hair off my neck and giving me a gentle kiss, his chest pressed against my arm and back as he hovered over me.

“Xavier,” I murmured quietly, turning my head towards him as he propped himself up on one arm. The other hand smoothed up and down my back, hands warm against my skin.

“Yes?” he asked, watching his fingers as they tickled along my hips.

“It feels good,” I answered, stretching a little into the caress.

He hummed a little, thoughtful and quiet as he touched every part of me that he could reach. I flipped over, watching his hand trail along my skin as I moved, and it settled just under the dip of my belly button.

“What do you want me to do to you?” he asks in a low, rumbling tone - quite a departure from his usual whisper-soft voice. I liked the difference, knowing that I was hearing it because he was turned on and just as attracted to me as I was to him.

“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully, reaching up to rub his cheek, swiping a finger over his parted lips. He captured my finger between his teeth in a gentle bite before letting me go. “I want your mouth, your teeth and tongue and fingers, and I want your cock pounding into me while I come. I want my legs over your shoulders, I want you to fuck me from behind, I want to be on top of you and ride you until you think you might die.”

I smiled naughtily. “I guess I’m saying, I want it all.”

“That’s a long list for tonight, but I’ll see what I can do,” he answered casually. I gulped.

“It doesn’t have to be all at once,” I muttered. I draped my arms over his neck, tugging him closer.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Haven’t we already kissed?” I questioned back, smiling.

He just watched me, hovering above me propped on one arm, the other tracing over one nipple before pinching it.

“Yes,” I hissed, lifting my head in a silent beg for his mouth.

He smiled, a small one but there in the soft corners of his lips, and lowered his mouth to mine. Before today, we had never been this close, this intimate, but we were rapidly learning each other's likes and dislikes. I liked it when he nipped at my bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, his mouth neither too wet nor too dry against mine. He liked it when I sucked at his top lip, licking along the seam of his mouth before my tongue dipped inside.

I breathed out a happy sigh when he pulled away, his nose nuzzling along mine as we breathed together. I combed my fingers through his damp hair, brushing the bangs back so I could see his face.

“I know a little about what you like,” he starts, his voice quiet and restrained. “What do you not like?”

I wasn’t really sure how to answer. How could I admit how generally normal my sex life had been? A few short-lived relationships when I was at the university, and one or two dates after I joined the hunter’s association didn’t make for an exactly thrilling love life.

Maybe he could see the conflict, or confusion, in my expression, because he gave me another quick, deep kiss before pulling away again. “How about this? Are you okay if I play a little rough?”

“How rough are we talking about? I don’t want any blood,” I said, staring up at him.

“I won’t hurt you like that,” he soothed, brushing a hand over my face, and tugging gently on a lock of dark hair. “Did you like what I did before? Bites and…” he paused, pinching my nipple again, but a little harder this time.

I gasped, nodded, and said “yes” on a long exhale. My nipple felt a little sore, but the pleasurable tingles overrode any discomfort. He leaned over, sucking the abused nipple into his mouth, pulling strongly at it. I grabbed his head, cradling him against my breast, and jerked when I felt his teeth clamp lightly over the tip. The grip got steadily harder, though, and I could feel a flash of pain and pleasure clouding my mind. I jerked, shudders wracking my body. He tugged at it once more before pulling away with a soft little pop as he let me go.

It was flushed red by his mouth, and I shivered, the damp skin prickling as he puffed a warm little breath over my breast.

“It seems you like a little pain with your pleasure?” he asked, but I could tell he already knew.

I nodded. “Not…not a lot,” I said, a blush on my cheeks. “But I like how you make me feel.”

“I’ll check in with you, okay? If you feel like it’s too much, I want you to say something. Green means you’re good, yellow means we need to take it slow, and red means no more. Got it?”

I nod. “Got it.” He was much more experienced with this than I was, I noticed. I tugged him down, brushing my lips over his. “What about you? What do you like?”

He smiled, catching his bottom lip between his teeth before he let go. “Hmm, that’s a conversation for another day. This is all about you, honey.”

I pouted, my lips pursing. I didn’t like that answer, but he swept me into another deep, searing kiss before I could argue. I slumped back to the bed once he released me, panting.

He lowered his head, nipping along my neck to the meat of my shoulder, using his teeth in a slightly harder bite. I grunted, writhing and feeling trapped by his teeth but incredibly excited. I’d never had another lover bite me like this - sure, a few love nips, but this was an actual bite. I could feel the imprint of teeth when I rubbed a hand over it, my mind a little hazy at the tender sensation.

“What color, honey?”

“Green,” I said, digging my head into the pillows and arching my neck in blatant invitation.

“Good girl,” he murmured, resuming his exploration. He slipped down my body, his mouth licking and sucking along the curves of my breasts before baring his teeth and biting down once more. A little harder this time, and as he released the clamp of his teeth, he sucked the flesh tightly into his mouth, his tongue licking along the trapped flesh. He was leaving a mark this time, an angry red bordering on purple.

“Oh, yes,” I moaned, the release of his mouth sending tingles shooting through my body, endorphins rushing to fill the space where pain had once been. He chuckled darkly, his face pressed between my breasts as he reverently kissed each mound.

“That’s it, I want to hear you even more.”

He went on, his hands and lips skimming over my body. I felt like there was no inch left unmapped, and I was panting by the time he finally knelt between my legs. He lifted one of my legs, propping it on his shoulder and rubbed his hands firmly from my ankle to my knee. He turned his head, biting the meat of my calf, but not enough to leave a mark.

“I’m going to use my fingers until you’re nice and ready for me, honey, and then I’m going to put your legs over my shoulders and fuck you deep into this mattress.”

I watched as his eyes locked on my pussy, now exposed with one leg thrown over his shoulder. I bent the other knee, digging my heel into the mattress and opening myself up to his gaze. I gripped the sheets since I couldn’t reach him, my body already aching and ready.

“Please,” I shamelessly begged. “Hurry.”

He tutted, a small sound, but I could see the smile in his eyes. “I don’t want to rush,” he said softly, his eyes lowering as he surveyed my body under his. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

He reached down, gripping his cock with one hand as he knelt between my legs, his long, slim fingers wrapping around it. He stroked it, almost casually, as he watched me undulate with barely suppressed need.

“Xavier, you’re teasing me,” I pouted, my eyes glued on his hands. I swallowed hard, remembering the taste and feel of him in my mouth. His eyes were dark as he watched me, and I could tell he was practically reading my mind.

“Next time, I want you on my face while you suck my cock,” he sounded a little pained, watching as I licked my lips.

I nodded fervently, fists clenching in the sheets. “Please,” I begged again, trying to spread my legs even wider.

He didn’t tease me anymore, releasing his cock to grab my thigh as the other hand stroked up and down my damp slit. His thumb pressed against my clit, circling, while his fingers slowly dipped into my pussy. I was still wet from the play in the shower, no resistance against his entrance, so he easily added a second finger. He stretched me gently, curling his fingers and stroking that soft, spongy spot that had me groaning in pleasure.

His fingers curled and pressed forward, before he paused and went still, the pressure high and tight. I tried to wriggle my hips, arching and squirming. “Xav,” I whined, “keep moving.”

Instead, he lifted his second hand, two fingers clamping on my clit again, and between the pressure on my clit and in my pussy, I could feel myself rapidly building towards another climax even without extra stimulation. I moaned, thighs quivering. “I’m close,” I panted.

He massaged his fingers before releasing the pressure on my clit, and I could feel the blood rushing back into the tender area. He added one more finger, three buried deep as he curled and stretched me a little more before he finally lined himself up between my legs.

“You ready, honey?” he asked, voice tight and sultry, his pupils blown wide as he looked down at me.

“Yes, yes, yes,” I chanted, canting my hips up. I could feel the stretch in my hamstrings and thighs as he pulled my second leg over his other shoulder, my butt cradled between his thighs as he centered himself. He tilted forward, curling over me, and eased himself into my body in pulses. Pushing forward, withdrawing, over and over as he opened me up to fit his cock. I instinctively tightened as he bottomed out, wanting him to stay inside deeper, longer, filling me up.

He grunted, hips pulsing forward in a slow, methodical roll. I could feel him pressing against me, full and deep, and it was almost painful how good it felt. I threw my head back, gasping his name.

“Give me your color, baby,” he ordered, “because I’m going to start now.”

“Green,” I promptly replied, thighs clenching in excitement.

Without holding back, he spread his knees wider for better traction, one arm wrapped across my legs and the other braced beside me as he leaned over, and I felt him pull back and thrust in, hard and deep and fuck, it hurt so good, I cried out.

He picked up an almost brutal pace immediately, his cock rubbing against the sensitive walls of my pussy with the angle. All I could feel were short, sharp thrusts before he pumped into me so deep I could feel him against my cervix. Each movement sparked a rough drag against my clit, sending a shockwave through my belly.

I couldn’t even speak, my throat tight as I panted for breath. He kept thrusting, but it wasn’t mindless, it was with precision on just how deep he knew I could take it. And that faint edge of pain dissipated when he suddenly shifted, the edges of his cock now rubbing against that perfect spot inside of me with each thrust.

I went nova. I clenched my pussy, tight like a vise around his cock, demanding more. My fingers were digging into the mattress, and I could hear the faint tearing sound of the sheets. Tears leaked from my eyes as I was rapidly overwhelmed by pleasure, his cock pumping into me at a steady pace as soon as he realized he had gotten the perfect angle.

“Y-y-y-yes,” I tried to say, teeth chattering. All I could see were his shoulders arched above me, blocking out the light as he fucked me into the mattress, just as he promised. I was locked down tight, unable to get any leverage to push back against his thrusts.

I was almost insensible. “Harder, fuck me, yes, fuck, harder,” I tried to demand, but I don’t know if he could even understand me. He didn’t change his tempo, though, no matter how much I wanted him to go even deeper, his cock spearing into me over and over again.

I reached up with one hand, scrambling for purchase at his shoulder, and he curled over, my body rolled up even tighter, legs trapped as he fucked me now even deeper than before. Every thrust was winding me up even tighter.

I dug my nails in, scratching at him in my mindless pleasure. Warmth coiled between my legs, trembling from the stretch, and suddenly, I clamped down. Spasms and waves of pleasure burst forth, and I could hear the sound of his cock fucking into my clenching, wet pussy.

I cried out, tears streaming from my eyes, mouth open as I panted and gasped for breath, my entire body shivering with white hot flashes of heat and electricity from one of the most powerful orgasms of my life. He held me firmly, and I was unable to move away even as I began to grow more sensitive, but my climax kept cresting over and over again, unending, as he continued to thrust into my flexing pussy. My clit was overstimulated and sensitive, red and flushed as it dragged along his cock. His eyes were locked on me, tracing over my face and body obsessively.

I tried to writhe from the pleasure, but I couldn’t move, and excitement continued to flood me as I realized he had me exactly how he wanted me. There was nothing I could do. I sobbed, pleasure hazing my thoughts, and I felt like I was going to pass out.

“Color,” Xavier demanded harshly, sweat peppering his hairline and glistening on his chest and shoulders as he maintained his rhythm.

“Y-yellow?” I say somewhat questioningly. I was having a hard time catching my breath, and I knew as I came down from my orgasm I was going to be very sensitive, but I didn’t want to stop.

He hummed, slowing down though still pulsing inside of me, more gently now. “Let’s try this,” he says, and carefully pulls out. He lets my legs fall free and helps me flip over to my belly.

“On your knees, honey,” he coaxes. “That’s it, good girl. Rest your head on the bed, but lift your hips. There we go.”

The praise is…honestly, it was really doing it for me. I blushed and hid my face in the ragged sheets as I got into the new position, lifting my hips and arching my back. I turned my head a little, glancing over my shoulder.

Xavier was flushed, face and chest pink, damp from exertion and control. He was mind bogglingly gorgeous, the ropey muscles of his arms tight as he gripped my hips and abs clenched as he braced himself behind me.

I can feel the traces of my orgasm dripping down my thighs, damp and flushed as I move my legs further apart to let him slide more closely behind me. He stroked one hand over the curve of my butt before he drew back his hand and swatted me. I was more surprised than hurt, the slight sting of his palm print vividly red against the pale skin of my butt.

I gasped, rocking forward.

“Color, baby,” he reminded me.

“Green, very green,” I said, voice muffled in the sheets as I clench my hands.

He slapped my butt again, not any harder, but this time on the other cheek for a matching handprint. I bit down on my hand to smother my desperate whines. He didn’t go any further, just lined himself up and slowly sunk back into me, my pussy clenching around him as if to suck him in further.

He slipped a hand around my waist, his fingers dropping to rest over my clit. Not a lot of pressure, just a teasing stroke as he began to pick up his pace. He held on to my hip with his other hand, controlling our rhythm.

I groaned, my face turned to the side as I tried to breath through the sensitivity. I hardly ever went through the effort of multiple orgasms when it was just by myself, and I felt a little rusty. I bit my lip in stifled amusement at the thought, though I caught him tilting his head as he watched me, the slap of our flesh getting a little louder.

“So good,” I whispered, allowing myself to sync into the feeling of his body against mine, the heat of his skin, the thickness of his cock slipping deeper into my body. I shivered, a little tired and sore, but the ache seemed to heighten the slow deluge of pleasure.

“One more time, honey,” Xavier murmured gently behind me, his hips smoothly rolling forward, sinking into me. I was so wet, the slick glide of our bodies audible in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

“I-I can’t,” I said, tear tracks still damp on my cheeks. Almost as if mesmerized, he stretched out on top of me, leaning down to press along my back, licking tenderly at the tears of pleasure still dripping down my face.

He braced himself over my back, his hips still pumping, and I could feel the soft skin of his testicles brushing my ass each time he bottomed out. He was sticky with my orgasm, the scent of my body and my pleasure filling the room. He inhaled deeply, eyes like midnight, pupils blown in pleasure. He tweaked one of my nipples playfully, before pinching it harder a second time.

“You can, I know you can,” he answered, his voice whispery soft and seductive.

“No,” I whimpered. “I really can’t.” But I clenched around his cock, wet and needy and sore. I needed more. As if uncontrollably, he fucked me harder, deeper, groaning as I caught him off guard.

I realized what had set him off, and I hid my grin as I turned my face briefly away from him. I gave a faint struggle, whispering a soft “green”, before I raised my voice.

“No, Xavier, please, I’m too sore. I can’t,” I cried, letting out a little sob as tears welled in my eyes a little more. I could feel the sheets under my cheek growing damp. I struggled as if to try to pull away from him, twisting and reaching forward towards the headboard with one hand.

He growled, a flush spreading down his chest as I felt him get impossibly harder inside of me. Gods. I’d never done anything like this before, but I was so turned on, I could feel my thighs stained with my slick.

“No, don’t,” I said, struggling a little harder, my hands scrabbling for purchase against the mattress. He gripped my hips so hard, I knew I’d probably have bruises in the shape of his fingertips, and fuck, it was so deliciously bad. He stretched out on top of me, pressing me deeper into the mattress now, gripping my wrists in one hand.

“Take it, baby, I know you can handle it.” He nipped my earlobe hard before sucking it into his mouth, laving his tongue around the shell of my ear. He had me pinned down, splayed underneath him, and finally let go.

He fucked me hard, losing any gentleness he had remaining. I cried out, my body quivering from the bombardment, sensitive and on fire. He angled so deep I could feel him tight and hard, and I was stuffed full.

“Ah, ah, ah-” I panted with each thrust, my voice muffled as I pressed the side of my face into the mattress. He wrapped one arm under my waist, holding me tightly against him as he abruptly lifted one knee, my leg hooked around his, changing the angle until…

I sparked, spasming around his cock, squealing as I felt a release of fluid. I screamed into the mattress with my orgasm, tears gushing from my eyes as I cried out over and over. I could feel the warmth between our bodies as I squirted in pleasure, and a groan rumbled through his chest when he felt it.

I felt him lose his rhythm just as I started coming down, becoming more jerky until he pulled away, fisting his cock a few more pumps to jet his release on my back. I sighed with a small ‘ah’ as I felt the heat of his come in stripes along my skin. He moaned, head lolling to watch with narrowed eyes filled with pleasure as he aimed the last of his release on one of the handprints on my ass.

I sprawled bonelessly on the bed, dazed, while he slumped next to me, both of us panting. I shivered, the last vestiges of my multiple - incredible - orgasms rocketing through my body before I finally started to settle. He breathed deeply, his cock slowly softening against his belly as we lay in complete disarray on his bed.

“Wow,” I murmured, voice husky and strained after screaming through multiple climaxes.

He nodded before turning his head to look at me, one hand reaching for mine where it rested limply on the bed. He lifted my hand, brushing a tender kiss along the knuckles.

“You are so beautiful,” he answered, his voice also raspy with a post-orgasmic glow.

I blushed, a silly response considering this man had already licked my ass, fingered me to orgasm and then blew my literal mind with the best sex I had ever had, but his sweetness never failed to catch me off guard.

“You are too,” I said shyly, half burying my face into the bed and grinning as I watched his face, now relaxed, curve briefly with a small smile. He kissed my hand again before he groaned a little, rolling off the bed to his feet.

I chuckled, not daring to move with all of the fluid still dotting my back. “You sound like an old man,” I said, missing the look he darted my way. He stretched, rotating his shoulders as he stood unconcernedly nude, both of our fluids smeared across his belly. He reached for the towel at the end of the bed and wiped my back gently to remove the traces of his come, before he casually swiped it over his cock.

“If you have the energy, we can wash up,” he said calmly.

“And then a nap?” I asked hopefully.

“And then definitely a nap.”

#love and deepspace #fanfiction #lads #xavier x mc #xavier x reader #lads xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier lads #smut #gentle domination

153 notes · View notes

myzticbean · 11 months ago

Text

WEEPS, CRIES, THROWS UP

I've been so unlucky. It took me 110 CARDS TO GET MY SYLUS Grasslands Romance card. This was, in fact, my FIRST card in this series. There's no way I'll get all 4 in this event, I spent 6-7K diamonds just for ONE, not including the free tickets....WEEPS BITTERLY

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #lads

20 notes · View notes

myzticbean · 11 months ago

Text

Cat!Dad Series: You're My "Maine" Squeeze

Edit update: I LOVE that this came around full circle with the latest cat!boi cards 🤣😎🔥

Pairing: Qin Che | Sylus / MC (fem! reader) Tags: Super fluff, established relationship, cute cats, domestic bliss Can also read at A03

Previous posts in the Cat!Dad series:

Zayne: Quit kitten around - let's celebrate

Title: You’re My “Maine” Squeeze

Wrapping my arms around Sylus, I rest my hands against the motorcycle’s tank as it rockets down the dark street. I slip a hand under his leather jacket as we both lean into the tight corner, disappearing into the condo’s underground private entrance. The motorcycles that had been following us blew past, unaware we had already made our getaway.

I laugh, a little giddy from the rush of adrenaline at the chase and successful escape (ahem, joyride), hugging his broad back and resting my helmet between his shoulder blades as he slows and parks the bike.

“I told you it would be fun,” Sylus says calmly after he pulls off his helmet. I tug mine off as well, my bun squished to my head and tangled flyaway hairs sticking to my face, but I know I’m still grinning from ear to ear.

“Another successful mission with my criminal mastermind partner,” I chuckle, shaking my hair out of the hair tie before throwing it back up into a ponytail. I swing my leg over and hop off the bike, and he stands as well, wrapping me in his arms in a quick hug.

We wear matching black leather jackets, my curb stomping boots laced up over black jeans, and a custom thigh holster holding my (not-quite-legal) gun. I lean into his embrace, lifting my face to smile smugly at him.

“Admit it, I definitely helped you a lot this time.”

“You literally started a fight and got us thrown out -- of my own club,” he answers sardonically, tightening his grip around my shoulders and waist. But he can’t hide the lip twitch of amusement and the softness in his gaze as he stares down at me.

“You needed to hire better help anyways,” I say airily, stepping out of his embrace and flicking a strand of my ponytail back over my shoulder saucily. “That they didn’t even recognize their boss…tut.”

“You do realize most people shouldn’t recognize me, otherwise it defeats the purpose of being the mysterious leader of an underground organization,” he responds dryly, locking the steering on his bike and grabbing the straps of our helmets in one hand.

“That they didn’t even recognize your dark, dangerous, and sensual aura and let you do whatever you wanted is just a crime against nature,” I answer cheekily. I open my mouth to continue my teasing despite his grimace, when the hissing and howling of cats interrupts me.

As we neared the elevators, I saw a couple of cats brawling, two smaller dark colored tomcats wrestling a dirty, fluffy, absolute monster of a cat. Even while clearly outnumbered, it was holding its own and about to turn the tide of the fight when another cat appeared, intent on jumping into the fray.

“Oh no,” I say, taking an unconscious step forward. I wasn’t sure how to intervene without getting scratched to holy hell when an empty can was suddenly thrown from behind, clattering as it pelted one of the dark cats on top.

It screamed, not that it was actually hurt, but more in surprise as it backed off of the giant cat on the bottom. Without waiting, the big cat sprang to its feet, roaring like a tiny lion and racing forward aggressively.

The tomcat didn’t bother waiting around to see if it could take the big cat on - it scrambled to its feet and raced away, the other cats following close behind. The bigger cat stopped, sitting on the ground in exhaustion, bloody scratch marks on its face, back and ears.

“You poor thing,” I murmur, squatting down to try to get a closer look. It would probably be pretty skittish, especially if it has been a feral, unneutered male used to roaming the streets of the N109 zone and surviving.

It turns to look at me at the sound of my voice, its tail flicking back and forth as it surveys me from where it sits on the cold concrete. “I wonder if he’ll let us take care of his wounds,” I say to Sylus who stands behind me, his hand propped casually on one hip as he looks between me and the cat.

“It’s a tom, probably not,” he answers.

“I tamed you,” I say a little tongue-and-cheek as I glance at him slyly over my shoulder.

“Hmm,” he hums thoughtfully. “I might argue it was the other way around, kitten.”

“Here kitty, kitty,” I whisper, flicking my fingers at him. I moved to kneel down on one knee, not moving closer, but holding my hand out in case he wants to come over for a sniff.

The cat didn’t deign to move closer, but also doesn’t seem afraid or inclined to scamper away from us. He just peers at me with intent yellow eyes, his fluffy tail flipping back and forth as if to lure me in with the promise of touching it.

I can’t help myself -- I shuffle forward a little bit, my hand still outstretched, wanting to see if he’ll let me get close enough to at least take a better look at his scrapes. He’s certainly not afraid - his watchful eyes are flickering all around.

“Look at this handsome boy,” I croon, voice pitched a little lower, trying to entice him to take a step towards me. I wish I had some food for him.

Sylus just sighs behind me.

“Ignore him, kitty,” I suggest, trying to stifle a giggle when I see the cat’s yellow eyes briefly dart behind me before locking back onto mine. “You are definitely the biggest, most handsome cat on the block. If you come juuuust a little closer, I want to make sure you haven’t been hurt.”

The cat yawns, his sharp teeth on full display before he licks his nose and gives me a blink.

“That’s right, big guy. You know I won’t hurt you.”

Sylus suddenly chuckles behind me. “Let’s do this a little quicker, shall we?” Without pausing, he activates his Evol, wrapping the cat in red and black swirls of color and lifting it into the air. It yowls in immediate displeasure, thrashing and kicking.

“Oh, don’t-” I try to say, before Sylus deposits it in my arms, though still wrapped up and held immobile by his power.

It freezes, looking up into my face, while I peer down at him. “It’s okay, kitty, I won’t hurt you,” I say soothingly. I resist the urge to pet it - it’s trapped and can’t escape, and my touch could do more harm than good. Instead I hold him close against me, cradling him gently in my arms as Sylus guides me towards our private elevator.

We ascend to the penthouse as I’m trying to look over his wounds - with his thick hair, it doesn’t seem like he sustained too much damage, but I wouldn’t be sure until I could investigate more thoroughly. He is, however, extremely dirty and covered in fleas, which I can see crawling through the dirty fuzz.

“He needs a bath,” I say, looking him over. “Do you think we should take him to a vet instead?”

Sylus scoffs quietly behind me as we enter our private floor. “I’ll make a call.”

“My rich boyfriend is so strong and powerful,” I laugh, walking further into the condo and heading towards the bathroom.

“Do we have any of that blue dish soap?” I call out as I settle the cat down in the shower. I need to grab a towel, and with Sylus’ Evol still activated, he won’t be able to move too much. I kick off my shoes and socks and grab a few fluffy dark towels from underneath the sink, whispering to the cat as I reach for one of the handheld shower heads. Since the shower is big enough for 10 people, the cat is safely outside of the spray as I test out the water and let it warm up.

“What a good boy you are,” I croon, kneeling down by the cat once the temperature has been adjusted, gently allowing the warm water to soak into his fur. The cat gives a grimace and gnashes his teeth, but otherwise doesn’t fight it.

“Yes, you’re so smart, what a sweet kitty you are. You were definitely going to win. It was three-on-one, and look how strong and brave you were…” I ramble on and on as I soak him from the neck down, gently carding my fingers through his fur to try to get him completely wetted.

Sylus walks in with a bottle of the dish soap, rolling his eyes a little at my running commentary. “I’m worried about you, sweetie,” he says lightly, squatting by the shower entrance and setting down the soap bottle.

“Hush,” I say, fighting back a smile as I throw a mock-glare over my shoulder. “Squeeze me,” I say, holding out one palm.

“I wish,” he mutters before he obliges, squirting a heaping handful of soap.

I soap my palms together and get to work, thoroughly (but gently) cleaning up the poor, battered cat. His cuts and scrapes aren’t bad, but I’m careful to avoid getting too much soap in those areas to avoid any stinging. I keep speaking to the cat, voice low and calm, and he doesn’t otherwise flinch at being doused in water and soap.

“I wonder if he was someone’s pet?” I question thoughtfully. “He’s too well behaved for a feral cat.”

Sylus just hums but doesn’t say anything, his Evol still containing the cat though it’s obvious the animal isn’t fighting it. I make sure to wash off as much of the dirt and fleas as I can, rinsing and repeating one more time, and the amount of dirt pooling beneath the two of us turned the pale gray tile completely black.

But as the cat emerges, clean and victorious, I’m astounded to see a pure white beauty in its majestic display. “He’s so handsome,” I gasp, gently drying him off with a soft towel.

“I know, you’ve already mentioned it many times,” Sylus says dryly, but the humor glinting in his ruby-colored eyes is obvious. “I always knew you’d be a cat person.”

“You call me kitten often enough, I thought it was obvious,” I say, smiling playfully.

It’s quiet again for a moment as I finish drying the cat off, before noting, “I don’t think he’s seriously hurt, but he had fleas and could use a check up.”

As if waiting for my remark, the doorbell chimes, announcing a visitor. I look over at Sylus, who has climbed to his feet and casually strolls out of the bathroom.

I reach out, cradling the cat in a new clean towel and exit the bathroom and into the living room where a man with a black kit is waiting for us. Without much expression and with almost no conversation, he takes the cat from my arms and begins his check up, and the cat -- who is still held by the black strands -- immediately begins to meow and scream non-stop.

“Oh, poor baby,” I whisper, clenching my hands but unable to help. I look on in concern, trying not to react as the impersonal vet quickly doctors the cat’s wounds and gives him a few shots.

“He’ll be fine in a few days. I’ve given him his vaccinations, and a pill that will help kill off the remaining fleas.”

“What kind of cat is he?” I ask, the cat looking even larger as the fur dries.

“I’d guess Maine Coon based on his size and features,” the vet says. “You can do a DNA test if you want to know for sure.”

“Will he get bigger or is he fully grown?”

The man lifted the cat’s lips, checking his teeth. “He’s a young cat, maybe still under a year old, so I would guess he’s still growing. Maine Coons can keep growing until they are around two years old.”

He gives me a few instructions on how to continue caring for the animal, and without much fanfare, leaves.

“Let’s let him free now,” I murmur to Sylus after setting him down on the floor. Sylus releases his Evol, and the cat slowly stands, taking a few steps and sniffing the air.

“He’s so cute,” I sigh, watching him tentatively explore his new surroundings.

“He better not pee on anything until we can get him neutered,” Sylus mutters. “We’ll never get the smell out.”

I reach out, wrapping my arms around his waist and nuzzling into his chest. “You’re so wonderful,” I say, content and a little tired. The doorbell rings again, and I lift my head off his chest to look up at his face, puzzled.

He motions for me to go, saying, “Get in the shower, I’ll get him settled. The twins brought some supplies.”

I smile in relief, giving him another squeeze, and silently beg for a kiss as I stand on my toes and lift my face. He cups my chin, brushing warm lips over mine in a chaste kiss. He gives me a second kiss on my forehead.

“Go on,” he murmurs. “I’ll join you soon.”

More than a week has passed since we rescued the cat. I’ve had to travel to and from Linkon for work, but Sylus never asks if I am going to take the cat with me or drop it off at the shelter. Instead, the cat seems to settle into the plush penthouse as if he had never lived a life on the outside, his kingly attitude right at home in the dark, romantic surroundings.

After arriving a little later than I expected, I put my overnight bag away in the bedroom before I grab one of the new cat toys lying about. It’s a stick with a feather dangling from a string, and I flick it around on the floor and up in the air, laughing aloud as the cat makes a daring leap trying to catch it.

“You can do it, Junior,” I cheer as he stretches out his paws, dagger-like nails exposed. Mephisto caws angrily in the corner, pacing back and forth on his stand as he watches the playful cat. They’ve been sassing each other all week, with the kitty missing chunks of hair and Mephisto decidedly more ruffled looking with mechanical feathers lying twisted on the ground.

The door opens and Sylus walks in just in time to hear me, raising his eyebrows as he comes towards me carrying a couple of shopping and garment bags.

“Please don’t tell me that name means what I think it means?” he sighs.

I start giggling and the cat takes a flying leap, tackling me to the ground. I ooph out a rush of air, his heavy body colliding with mine as I clutch him to my belly and roll backwards. Sylus drops the bags into the couch and strides over, grabbing the cat by the scruff of the neck and tossing him (somewhat gently) onto the coffee table. He reaches down, helping me to my feet as I fight off a giddy laugh.

“It’s exactly what you think,” I answer, a sly smile twisting my lips as I reach down to pat Junior on the top of his head, his large, fuzzy ears twisting to catch our voices. “He looks just like his daddy, after all…”

“I did not, in fact, sire a cat. But if my little kitten is so inclined to have her own litter, I could be persuaded.”

I burst out laughing, pushing at his shoulder (he didn’t budge). “I’m not ready for a baby right now. Baby making, however…”

His eyes glint in the light, strangely dark as he locks his gaze onto mine, tugging me closer and into a tight embrace. He leans down, nuzzling his face into my neck, arms wrapped around my waist. “Let’s go practice now,” he suggests, teeth nipping gently at my skin in blatant invitation.

I sigh, languid from the pleasure that courses up my spine as he trails long fingers down my back in a slow caress. He kisses me tenderly, tongue tracing the seam of my mouth before I open to let him in, our tongues pressing against each other in unhurried exploration. We’ve kissed hundreds of times, but each press of his lips to mine brings a fresh wash of affection and excitement.

I lift my arms to wrap around his neck, falling deeper into his kiss, but a demanding howl from the coffee table shatters the moment. I look down, meeting the irritated eyes of the cat staring back at me. “Sorry, Junior. You shouldn’t be watching mommy and daddy like this.”

Sylus stifles a long exhale before he reaches down, adjusting himself, and steps away back towards the bags. I follow along with interest, trying to peek into the bags, but he covers it up.

“You can open this one now,” he says, holding out a shopping bag. “I’ll show you the others later.”

I look with interest at the other handful of bags and garment bags, but don’t press. I’ve learned that any surprise from Sylus is well worth the wait. Instead, I tear open the bag and read the brand name on the box. “Evol CommuniCollar?” I question, looking up at him in surprise. “Aren’t these ridiculously expensive?”

He scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “Maybe if you’re not me.”

I roll my eyes. “You are such a snob sometimes.” I eagerly read the description. “It says here that it can translate everything your pet says into human language. This is so cool!”

I sit down and start fumbling to open the box, tearing off the flap corners in my haste to get it open. “Oops, I hope we don’t need to return this,” I say. He looks completely unconcerned as he settles on the couch next to me, as Junior perches politely on the coffee table near my knee, tail swishing back and forth.

Reading the instructions, I open my phone and download the app as Sylus checks the battery charge on the collar. I fill in Junior’s information, noting his suggested breed and age in the settings. While Sylus isn’t watching, I set the AI voice to one of my favorite male celebrities that is (surprisingly) available in the list.

Sylus gently adjusts it around the cat’s neck, making sure his fur isn’t being pulled or tangled, and gives him a single pat on the head.

Junior is still watching Sylus and gives a tiny meow, and the collar suddenly beeps, a deep, masculine AI-voice is clearly projecting from the collar. “Father.”

I gasp, practically swooning on the couch. “He knows you’re his dad,” I squeal, covering my mouth to hide the huge grin. Sylus looks taken aback, one eyebrow raised as he stares down at the cat that is still looking up at him. He obviously recognizes the voice when I see his sidelong glance at me.

I hurriedly continue reading the instructions. “While animals may not experience the same family bonds, environmental stimulus, language or emotional capacity that humans do, they’ve been able to map the closest electrical triggers to feelings that we can understand.”

I laugh a little. “So I guess he knows you aren’t his birth father. Maybe you’re his step-dad.”

The kitty looks at me chuckling on the couch, attention flicking back and forth, and as he looks at me directly, he gives a single, long blink. “Wife.” The masculine voice is low and rumbly as he purrs a little.

My mouth drops open, and I don’t dare to look at Sylus. I’m trying desperately to stifle a cackle of mischievous delight, and I reach out to stroke my hand along his back.

“No,” Sylus says, reaching out to catch my hand. “Don’t reward him for bad behavior.”

“How is he being bad?” I ask, choking on my laughter. I’m trying not to cry, eyes welling up as I gasp for breath.

“This collar is defective. Let’s throw it away,” he says resolutely, reaching out a hand to unclasp the collar from the cat before I bat his hand away.

“Don’t you dare. This is priceless.” I try to be stern, but my quivering lips and definitely giving it away.

He looks slightly irritated but does take his hands away and folds his arms across his chest. I turn back to the cat, giving him a little scritch behind one fluffy ear, and he closes his eyes, rumbling in pleasure.

“Feels good. It’s itchy,” the cat collar says in its low, dulcet tones. “Wife. Wife.” The purrs get a little louder when I switch to the other ear.

“No, I’m your mom,” I correct, and the collar gives another little beep with tiny rumbling noises as if to translate what I said.

“No, not mother. Wife,” the cat collar responds, and the cat blinks up at me again, holding eye contact.

I cover my mouth to hide my laughter when I see Sylus stiffen up beside me. “No, I’m your mother. And this is your dad,” I say, pointing to Sylus. “I’m his wife.”

I pretend I don’t see Sylus whip his head around to look at me. I’m trying to make a point to a cat, and this is the easiest way to get it across. How would a cat understand human dating behavior?

The cat looks obviously disgruntled as the collar makes more translation noises. His tail lashes angrily back and forth, and he turns his head away from me, obviously not agreeing to my words.

I lean forward, giving him a little kiss on his forehead, ignoring his mew of unhappiness. “I love you so much, my handsome little guy. You’re the bestest boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m the best cat. Better than the bird,” the collar agrees, and the cat turns to nuzzle his head into my chin.

I pepper little kisses all over his cute little cat face. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I’m hungry. I’d like dinner, please. I want the fish one. The wet food, not the crunch food.”

“Oh, you like the tuna more than the chicken? You should really eat the kibble too, it’s better for your teeth if you can eat some crunchy food,” I say, and we walk into the kitchen, chatting together.

Sylus leans back against the couch cushions, sighing as scrubs one hand over his face before climbing to his feet and going to store away the bags.

Junior and I chatter back and forth, his sentences slowly becoming longer and more in-depth the more the collar was used.

He finally finishes his food and I ask to gently wipe his face and whiskers with a clean towel, and he happily obliges, purring loudly as I clean him up. We walk together back into the living room, where Sylus has once more taken a seat on the couch, the fireplace crackling and the low throb of classical music coming from the record player.

“Father,” Junior murmurs, leaping onto the couch and then clambering into Sylus’ lap (uninvited, but also undeterred). I smile, nestling into his side as he raises an arm and pulls me in closer.

“Father, play with me. Play with me,” the cat begs, raising one paw and tapping it against Sylus’ chest.

I try to bite back a smile, shifting away slightly so I can quickly snap a photo. Sylus resigns himself, reaching down to flick one furry ear before he tugs gently at a whisker. The cat grows ever more exasperated as he tries to bat away Sylus’ hand, who snaps his fingers and conjures up a handful of black feathers dusting along Junior’s head and back.

“You wanted to play, and now you’re mad?” Sylus asks, listening to the cat muttering profanities (with the help of the collar) and hiding a small smile.

Finally the cat huffs and flops down, and the feathers immediately disappear. We both look down at the large cat stretching himself along the length of Sylus’ thighs, Junior’s head resting closer to his stomach. I reach out, giving him a scritch as I nuzzle into Sylus’ broad shoulder.

Sylus presses a tender kiss to my forehead as he sweeps one long-fingered hand down the back of the cat in a soothing, absent-minded stroke. He drops his head, feathering kisses across the bridge of my nose and cheeks, before pressing a deeper, sweeter kiss to my lips.

“So about that litter of kittens you mentioned…” I pull away to whisper into his ear as Junior finally settles and little snores start to emerge.

Activating his Evol, he carries that cat over to his bed, settling him into the cushions lightly while he stands and hefts me over his shoulder. “Practice makes perfect, sweetie,” he purrs, striding into the bedroom and shutting the door while I try to muffle my giggles.

Junior licks his lips, snuggling deeper into his bed and drifting off into an even deeper, satisfied sleep.

Cat image source

#love and deepspace #fanfiction #lads #sylus love and deepspace #fluff #cute cats #domestic fluff #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus #lads sylus

226 notes · View notes

myzticbean · 11 months ago

Text

Zayne has been SO sassy and mad this week

I don't even know why, but every time I've logged in this week, Zayne appears in his normal all-black get up with an angry emoji on his head with the SASSIEST comebacks. (See some proof below). Hmm...perhaps my recent attention to Sylus and Rafayel is coming back to bite me in the ass.

BUT MY DUDE, I even wrote some super sweet CadDad!Zayne fanfiction, and he's still not happy...LOL

#love and deepspace #lads #zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne #so sassy #so bitter

22 notes · View notes

myzticbean · 11 months ago

Text

I love nothing in the world so well as you

Title: I love nothing in the world so well as you

Pairing: Qin Che | Sylus / MC (fem! reader) Tags: 18+ Explicit sexual content, PWP -- oral sex, fingering, shower sex, multiple orgasms. Basically, a lot of good sex :) Can also read at: AO3

Who would have thought? I mused, sitting propped up on a mountain of pillows in the extravagantly big bed in Sylus’ bedroom. The black silk sheets bunched around my waist (matching my black silk and lace negligee, courtesy of said man), the television a low hum of noise in the background while we both read our datapads.

Sylus had only been up for a few hours, while I was getting ready to crash - it was already way past my normal Linkon sleep schedule, and my body was telling me to give up the fight. But I just wanted a few more minutes…

Sighing, I threw away the datapad before noisily collapsing against his shoulder. “What are you reading?” I asked in belated interest, trying to peer down at the screen before he skillfully trapped me against his side with one arm.

He - much more calmly - put the datapad on the bedside table before he gathered me into his arms. I struggled to kick free of the sheets since he was laying on top of the bedding.

“Are you pouting, kitten?” he asked, and the huskiness of his voice never failed to send a little shiver of delight down my spine. I pretended to be offended by the ridiculous nickname, nipping at his shoulder.

“Why would I be pouting?” I asked, with what was definitely not a pout.

“Why, indeed?” he countered, staring down at me. The fireplace was crackling (it didn’t matter that it was summer and the air conditioning needed to be turned way down, because Sylus said it was the ambiance that mattered more than the electric bill), and the flickering light made the red tint in his eyes shine like a cat’s gaze in the otherwise dark room.

“I’ve fed you, watered you, played with you, what more could my kitten desire?” he questioned, his lip quirking in faint amusement at my very disgruntled expression.

I wallowed unhappily in his arms, flipping around so that my face was turned away from his even as I sprawled across his lap and chest. “Hmph,” I grunt, nestling my face deeper into his shoulder before giving him another bite. When I released it, I could see a damp patch in the dark dress shirt from the press of my tongue and teeth.

His breath stuttered, just a little, but I caught it and hid a pleased smile. I nuzzled into the firm muscles of his shoulder, drawing up my legs and hooking one knee over his, while the other slipped between his thighs. I slipped one hand behind his back in a loose embrace, my fingers smoothing along the crisp shirt at the base of his spine. The other hand I tucked underneath my chin, sighing.

Sylus wrapped his arms a little tighter around me, lowering his head to press the softest kiss against the crown of my head.

“What is it you need, sweetie?” he asked, his lips still buried in my hair and his warm breath puffing against my skin. His voice was almost painfully gentle. The heat, and the sweetness, made me squirm in pleasure.

“I’ve missed you,” I finally admitted, my face still turned away. “And you’ve been so busy…”

I trailed off, reminded a little of my original unhappiness. I wanted to bite him for a third time, but managed to resist.

“You were hurt,” he answered, and now his voice was firm and low. Deadly, even, for those who knew what to look for. “I’ve made sure it won’t happen a second time.”

I finally turned my head back towards his, peering up at his face from where I lay propped up on his chest.

“That’s what you were worried about?” I asked, somewhat surprised. Sylus hadn’t seemed that affected, and the wounds weren’t any worse than a typical Wanderer battle. I had been unexpectedly caught in the crossfire of a subway dispute in the N109 zone while on my way back to him.

When I helped citizens duck for cover, it was as I was sheltering a little kid that those losers took advantage of my distraction, a stray bullet zipping right over my shoulder. The shock and burn of the bullet took my breath away, but my muscle memory kicked in, and I turned, shooting the attacker in the chest. The fight had been quickly subdued after that.

“You could have been shot in the head if his aim had been just a little better,” Sylus said through gritted teeth.

“Oh,” I said. I paused, before asking, “How did you know that?”

“I found the security footage.” His gaze was dark, his eyes lowered and watchful as he waited for my response. Mephisto had not been with me that day, so I figured there was a good chance my actions might have gone unnoticed (except for the exceptionally painful bullet graze).

“Ah.” Eloquent as always, I knew. “I didn’t want to worry you,” I admitted. I stroked my palm down his back, as if soothing imaginary ruffled feathers.

“That worries me even more.” His quiet voice was now even lower. “Does that mean something like this has happened before and you didn’t tell me?”

“Of course not!” I answered before my brain had even caught up with the question. “I mean, okay, I’ve gotten injured fighting Wanderers of course. But not when I’ve been with you.”

It seemed to settle some of his frustration, though obviously the idea of any injuries were distasteful to him. “You really need to be more careful, sweetie,” he finally grumbled after a long-suffering sigh. I muffled a laugh in his chest, my hand creeping up to cover my mouth as I leaned into his embrace.

“Why else have you been upset?” Sylus asked when my laughter settled, and I rested my forehead against his collar. I slipped both arms around his waist as he reclined back against the pillows propping us up.

“No reason,” I answered slyly, hiding a shy grin.

“I can feel you smiling, kitten,” he said with a smirk. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I wanted you to know that I was feeling better ages ago,” I admitted. His shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, exposed his throat and the barest glimpse of his chest, so I ducked in to press my lips to his hot skin. He always ran so warm.

“Oh?” he drawled. “How much better are you feeling now?”

“Very, very much better.” I didn’t even have bandages on my shoulder anymore.

“And what would you like me to do now that you’re feeling very much better?” His voice was husky and he was practically purring in my ear. I shivered, the warm puff of his breath and his deep baritone igniting all of my senses.

I drew back, withdrawing my arms from his waist to prop myself up on his chest. I shifted slightly, my leg now pressing up against his groin as I rode his thigh.

“I would very much like it if you would fuck me,” I said ( ahem , demanded), though a blush I couldn’t control immediately made my cheeks warm.

He swallowed thickly, his eyes heavy lidded and glowing in the firelight with dawning desire. “How?” he asked.

“What do you mean how?” I shot back, a little petulant.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” He shifted to brace his foot more firmly on the bed and bent his knee, grinding me a little harder onto his thigh as he lifted me slightly off the mattress. I gasped, collapsing forward onto his chest as I arched to press back against his thigh.

The thin black triangle of fabric between my legs did nothing to block the heat from his body, the smooth fabric of his pants adding a delicious friction as my thighs clenched around his. I wriggled a little, my hips shifting unconsciously to chase that sweet rub against my clit.

“Y-you know how I like it,” I finally answered, feeling a little dazed at how quickly my body was heating up. I was already getting damp, panties slick and tucked into the folds of my pussy. Without stopping to think (Sylus always said he preferred taking action, after all), I lowered one hand to shift my underwear to one side. With my negligee still tucked between us, he couldn’t quite see what I was doing, but I knew he could feel it as soon as I pressed my now bare pussy against the seam of his black slacks.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, licking his lips as his hands slid down to grip my hips. “Take what you want from me.” He adjusted his leg, adding a little more pressure as he rocked me harder against his thigh. I tried to stifle a moan, curling a little into his broad chest as my hands wandered down his stomach. I felt the muscles twitch and ripple even through his shirt. I was desperate to put my hands on his bare skin, but the teasing warmth while he was still fully dressed sent tingles of excitement through me.

My nipples tightened, clearly visible through the silk, the neckline dipping in a gentle wave against the small curves of my breasts. His bright gaze dropped to the teasing shadow.

“Pull down the straps. Slowly,” he ordered. I didn’t want to move my hands away from him, and I hesitated, my hands already near his belt.

“ Now , sweetie. Otherwise I’ll stop what I’m doing.” His hands tightened on my hips, a gentle warning.

I pulled away from him and he lowered his leg a little, allowing me to kneel on the bed. Sliding my hands up my thighs, ghosting over his hands on my hips, and teasing over the soft curve of my belly, I wanted to draw it out and torment him just as much as he was doing to me.

I smiled, a sultry, inviting curve of my lips that I knew he couldn’t resist. My fingers, pale against the midnight silk of my slip, teased every dip and hollow of my own body. My nail caught the edge of one nipple, tight and thrusting forward under his hot gaze, and I caught my bottom lip between my teeth.

It felt so good…and it had been so long since we had last played in bed thanks to my previous injury and his hectic travel schedule.

“Like this?” I whispered, my other hand coming up to cup the other breast, plumping it up as the neckline dipped dangerously low, the pale pink of one nipple now peeking above the fabric. With the other hand, I tugged at one slender strap and it slipped off my shoulder, delicately resting in the crease of my elbow. Immediately one side of the gown dropped, exposing one breast completely. The palm still fondling the other breast shifted, now covering the nipple from his gaze.

My nipple throbbed against my palm, and I imagined how hot and wet his mouth would feel, licking and sucking at my breasts. “If I take this off, I want you to use your mouth on me while I come on your thigh,” I tried to negotiate, my voice slightly strangled as I imagined it.

He cursed low under his breath, tipping his head back as he swallowed heavily. He slid his hands around to cup my ass, but blocked me from any further movement. I whined in protest, trying to lift my hands to wrap around his neck. I leaned forward, peppering frantic kisses to his adams apple, his neck, his collarbone, any skin within reach.

“How,” he started, swallowing again, “how do you want me to use my mouth?” His eyes speared me in place, and I shivered against him in response.

“I need you,” I whispered. “So much.”

“I know, baby. Tell me what you need,” he coaxed, his hands spasming against my bottom.

“I want you to lick my nipples, suck on my breasts, bite my neck,” I tried to say, but my breath was coming in little pants. He shuddered beneath me. “I want to feel your mouth everywhere. Anywhere.”

“Take it off,” he growled. “Right now.”

I immediately tugged at my nightgown, the delicate silk stretching and the seams crackling as I tried to whip it over my head. It got tangled briefly in my hair (embarrassing), but with a muffled chuckle, Sylus reached up with one hand to help tug me free.

I threw it off the side of the bed, and now Sylus could see the tiny straps of my thong and the fabric pushed to the side. Slick patches appeared on his black slacks and the skin of my thighs, the puffy folds of my pussy appearing pink and swollen already.

“Fuck,” he groaned. I had already made an absolute mess on his slacks.

“I’m not going to last long,” I moaned. I caught a glimpse of the hard outline of his cock trapped against his leg, and I knew he was just as desperate for me.

“Did you come when I wasn’t here?” I asked, picking up a smooth, gliding rhythm. “If you did, I won’t forgive you.” Between the heat and friction, I was already getting close, tingles of pleasure rushing through my veins.

“What would you do to me if I did?” He shifted, tugging me closer and tighter on this thigh, and now I could feel his cock pressing up against me through his slacks. I shuddered, a gasp escaping as I squeezed myself against the heated length.

“I…I would…not let you come tonight,” I grumbled, panting. “Now, you better kiss me, or I’m going to kick you out of bed and take care of it myself.”

“Oh?” he asked in disbelief, before tossing the question back to me, his tone mocking. “Did you come when I wasn’t there?”

“Twice every night,” I lied shamelessly before laughing at his twisted expression.

He lunged forward, holding me almost painfully tight as he kissed me deeply. He sucked my tongue into his mouth, before chasing and following it back into my own. Slick, wet and hot, all I could feel was the glide of his tongue exploring my mouth. I moaned, tilting my head back so he could thrust himself even deeper inside. I could feel saliva pooling helplessly in my mouth. He was drinking me in, briefly pulling away to swallow, and a thin string connected our mouths. Seeing it in porn was never a turn on, but with his mouth swollen and slick, it made me want to bite his lips mercilessly.

“Sy, darling, I’m going to die if I don’t come now,” I begged.

“We haven’t even gotten started,” he said, laughing low and rough. “Don’t give up so soon.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks,” I reminded him.

“I thought you said you’d been pleasuring yourself twice a night, sweetie. You don’t have any excuses,” he replied, his voice a little strained when I clamped tight around his thigh.

Instead of arguing with him further, I reached out, carding my fingers through his hair before clenching my hands into fists lightly, and tugging him insistently down. “Your mouth,” I reminded him, before I arched my back, pressing my breasts closer to his face.

Sylus bared his teeth in unspoken reprimand before he bowed his head, his heated mouth pressing against my skin. Darting out his tongue, he slicked a slow, meandering path along the top curve of one breast, before dragging his lips to the other. He lifted one hand to palm my flesh, cupping and plumping the weight. When he nipped at the delicate skin, a small red bloom was left behind as he moved slowly closer to my nipple.

It was just the right amount of pressure and release, small little bites soothed by strokes of his tongue. I writhed on his lap, riding both the heated press of his cock still trapped in his slacks and the thickly muscled thigh that flexed and lifted in time with my motions. I could feel my hips start to buck, small at first and then more wildly the closer I edged to climax just from the stimulation to my clit. I finally released his hair and reached down, pulling back the puffy flesh to expose the pulsing little nub and my drenched core.

He groaned when he saw my pussy, and he suddenly cupped my breast more firmly, taking my nipple into his mouth and sucking strongly. The pull at my breast combined with the heated press to my clit sent me over the edge, sparks shooting up and down my body. I clung to his shoulders and cried out his name, riding out waves of my climax.

I slumped, trembling, back into his embrace, the last shuddering flickers of my orgasm sending little licks of fire down my legs. “Oh my,” I sighed, nuzzling my face into his chest as I slid bonelessly down into his lap.

“Don’t quit on me now, sweetie,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead as he smoothed a palm down my back, soothing away the little aftershocks.

I laughed breathlessly. “Just give me a second, and I’ll be ready for round two, I promise.”

Sylus lifted me off his lap, settling me back onto the bed and half-propped up in the mountain of pillows at the headboard. He slipped my panties down my legs as I sprawled into the comfortable nest.

I glanced down at his slacks, reaching out to rub a finger in the soaked patch on his thigh. I tickled my fingers upwards to the second spot directly over his still-hard cock.

“Did you have fun, kitten?” he asked playfully, watching my fingers trail along his length.

“Mmhm,” I hummed, pleased with myself when he groaned and climbed to his feet beside the bed. Without comment, he began unbuttoning his dress shirt, baring his chest.

I licked my lower lip, eyes squinting in lazy admiration. He was so attractive, it should be illegal. I decided to tell him as such, which just made him laugh quietly. In moments, he had already shrugged off the shirt, unbuckled his belt and pushed down his slacks (he had apparently decided to go commando today), and his cock was finally freed, red and pulsing with need. The glimmering firelight shot streaks of orange and red glow across his skin.

“Sylus,” I whispered, opening my arms in invitation. He slid on the bed, crawling up to kneel before me and shifting forward so that my legs parted on either side of his hips. He sat back on his heels, thighs flexing, and he reverently smoothed his hands down my legs to my ankles.

His cock jutted up between us, thick and flushed. I couldn’t help but stare at the sight he made, looming over me, surrounding me with his muscled flesh and strong body. I felt so small, but protected, underneath him.

I slid my hands over his shoulders, lightly scoring his flesh with my nails just like a kitten he always said I reminded him of. Sylus grunted, a pleased sound, and he shifted even closer. He lifted one of my legs up and looped it over the crook of one arm, anchoring me in place, while he wrapped the other leg around his waist.

“Now sweetie,” he began as he positioned me gently. With my legs spread, I was completely exposed, knowing he could see just how wet and excited I was. He swallowed hard, looking me over as if he were a starving man suddenly presented with a banquet.

“I’m going to fuck you, and it’s going to be raw and hard,” he said almost conversationally, but his eyes, glimmering with barely-banked desire in the low firelight, belied the casual tone.

“Yes,” I whimpered, feeling another little pulse of liquid at my core. I knew he could see it, smell it, practically taste it in the sex-riddled air.

He crouched over, covering me, holding his weight off of me as he gave me a long, deep kiss. He still held my legs captive, and I clenched my thighs, wanting to press even more tightly against his body.

I settled more deeply into the pillows, and he released his hold on my leg wrapped around his waist to brace himself, hand near my ribs as we curled together. His other arm still held one of my legs up over it, keeping me spread wide and open to his hot gaze.

“I need you,” I said softly, pleading. I could feel myself dripping, the sheets damp beneath my body. Sometimes our evenings were nothing but long, extended foreplay; sweet, drugging kisses and hours of exploration.

But it had been so long, and my body was so primed, I felt ready to explode if he wasn’t inside me soon. The earlier orgasm had only taken the edge off, but I yearned for him. I hummed a little, a small purr I know drove him crazy.

His hips snapped forward, his dick pressed against my pussy, and wetted the length of it with my sex. He gave another small thrust, the head sliding past my clit before he withdrew and thrust again. “Get me wet, baby.” His voice was a low rumble of lust.

“Why are you teasing me?” I asked, the barest hint of a whine in my voice as I panted. He was so hot, his cock felt like a brand against my sensitive skin. I wanted to arch and wiggle to capture him inside of me, but with his vise-like grip holding me in place, I couldn’t move.

“I thought my naughty little kitten wanted to play,” he murmured, eyes lowered as he watched his cock tease my pussy. Tingles swept through me with each stroke, little shudders wracking my body. I was almost embarrassed by how wet I was. I could feel his thighs, bracketed under my legs and hips, slick with my arousal. I tilted my head back into the pillows, my shoulders and back arching as I brought one hand up to tweak my nipples, roughly tugging at the tender bud swollen from his mouth earlier.

With my free hand, I reached down between my legs, stroking the head of his cock as he pumped himself against me, coating the entire length with my fluid. He huffed, head dropping back as he briefly stilled, obviously trying to control himself. I swirled my fingertips over the spongy head, dipping briefly to the slit to swirl the beads of precum leaking from the tip.

He settled back on his heels, and using one hand, he slicked his fingers along the seam of my pussy. “So wet,” he murmured, sinking one finger inside of me. I cried out, the calloused pad of his finger igniting little flames as he pumped one finger, swirling it inside of me, stretching me gently but quickly. Without pausing, he added another finger, scissoring and thrusting them deeper.

“That’s enough, do it,” I said. I shivered over and over, my toes curling.

“No, sweetie, not just yet,” he said, his eyes locked on his fingers. He curled them, and I could feel another orgasm already building as he rubbed that perfect spot inside of me. I felt so full and empty at the same time.

“I don’t want to come like this, I want you inside of me,” I said, voice catching as I tried to swallow.

“I won’t let you, kitten,” he answered, a smirk twisting his lips. “You’re only allowed to come around my dick.”

“Sylus,” I hissed, and without answering, he added one more finger. I felt so full, his fingers long and large, but I know his cock will still spread me even further. The walls of my pussy clenched around the digits, and I could hear the sucking sound as he pumped inside of me, his fingers curling and stroking me. The pleasure felt like white hot flames licking at my skin.

Finally, I reached down and gripped his cock in my hand, leaving no room for him to pull away. “Fuck me, my love,” I demanded. I lined him up with my pussy. “No more waiting.”

I don’t know if it was the endearment (admitting my adoration for him always sent him into orbit, I thought fondly), or my handling, but he wasn’t playful anymore.

Instead, he thrust into me, deep and slow and filling every inch of me he could reach. His length and size caused the most delicious stretch and burn, no matter how ready I was. He lifted a little on his knees, bracing more heavily above me, his hand tight on my thigh as he pressed into me so deep I could practically feel him in my womb.

“Yes,” I hissed, the pleasant ache causing another rush of wetness to dampen between my thighs. He didn’t bother to answer, focused on my face and body and he continued to work his way into me, loosening my body with every rhythmic pump and withdrawal.

I let loose a throaty moan, my spine arching again uncontrollably, trying to bear down on his cock. My internal muscles flexed and spasmed, wanting to suck him deeper, the wet sounds growing louder and louder. As he pulled out, I whimpered in loss before he flexed forward to fill me once more.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” he asked, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead from his restraint.

I propped myself up, curling forward a little to rest my hands on his shoulders. I could see him now, his cock red and angry, sliding into my body, and I felt full to bursting. The pleasure was almost unbearable, as I watched his cock, wet from my juices pull out of me before thrusting back into my stretched, pink pussy. I could feel my body trembling around his flesh.

“Yes, yes, more,” I begged, my eyes glued to where we were connected. I had wanted to give him a deep, lingering kiss, but I was so distracted by the erotic sight, I could hardly focus. I missed the tight grin twitch at the corner of his mouth before he bit his lip roughly. A hint of red appeared on his lip before he licked it away.

He thrust forward, harder and faster than before, pistoning in and out of my body. I flopped back into the nest of pillows, eyes hazy from pleasure. I panted heavily through my mouth, my entire body jerking with each rough thrust he pounded into me. He bent over, curling me into a little ball since he still held one leg captive, his tongue fucking into my mouth in the same rhythm as his cock. Saliva dripped from the corner of my mouth as I moaned around his tongue, the sucking sounds of my pussy growing louder and louder.

Every ridge, every vein, I felt like I could feel every curve of his cock, electricity sparking along my spine. My toes curled when he finally let go of my leg, and I wrapped it tightly around his hips and waist, leveraging myself up into his lap.

His thighs flexed with each pump, his body bracing mine off the bed so he could get an even deeper angle. His pubic bone bumped roughly against my clit each time he bottomed out, my pussy sucking him deeper as he curved against the perfect spot, igniting my body to a fever pitch.

He reached down between my legs, thumbing my clit roughly. There was no gentle stimulation, and I was still so sensitive from my first orgasm, it was pleasure that edged into pain. I trembled, crying out tearfully.

“More, more,” I pleaded, sobbing. He strummed my clit again, thrusting into me even more deeply, little growls rumbling in his chest as he stared down at me. I writhed, almost violently, at the sharp sparks of electricity that shot through my body. My thighs tightened, ankles crossing behind his back as I tried to press back into his hips on each thrust.

“I want you to come now,” he demanded, his voice husky and tight with pleasure, and without warning, two calloused fingers tightened on my clit, the pressure pushing me into another immediate orgasm. I could feel my clit pulsing between his fingertips, my cunt clamping down on his cock so hard I think we both saw stars. I screamed my pleasure, trembling and crying. I could feel his cock pulsing once, twice, pumping furiously into my spasming pussy, before a gush of hot fluid filled me inside. The pressure of his dick, the painful swelling of my clit, and the warmth of his release prolonged my orgasm, breathlessly crying out his name over and over at the stimulation.

“That’s right kitten, let me hear you,” he purred, leaning down to lick at the tear tracks on my cheeks. He pulsed forward, plugging me so tight I felt like I was going to burst. He was still hard, cock twitching inside of me.

I moaned, throat hoarse. “Darling, I…”

“One more time,” he coaxed, his voice a low rumble that sent a throb of pleasure through my core. I instinctively tightened again, and he muffled a groan.

“I can’t,” I gasped. “I’m too sensitive.”

“I know you can, sweetie,” and his voice was so guttural with need I couldn’t stop the shudders wracking my body. “Look, I won’t even move,” and as he stared hotly down at me under him, I could feel his still-hard cock flexing inside of me.

“Oh, oh,” I moaned, my hands still clenching and releasing on his shoulders, kneading him unconsciously in time with each twitch. I wanted to twist my hips, but his hand had left my clit to return to my waist, holding me in place.

“I thought you were too tender,” he tutted, his tone now a little playful in his post-orgasmic haze. “How about this instead?”

With one smooth motion, he flipped us both so that I now lay on my side, half-propped on the pillows while he lay curled behind me. He entered me again before I had time to catch my breath, this angle now deeper and more pointed inside of me.

I grunted, my body baring down on him again and there was a little gush of fluid between my legs, a mixture of his semen and my climax. The silk bedding was wet and a little warm under our bodies.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured in my ear, my head pressed back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around me. One of his hands cupped my breast, kneading the tingling flesh before giving the nipple a pinch. My hands smoothed along the arms bracketing me, and I lifted one leg to prop over his knee. He hummed in appreciation. “How does that feel?”

“Not bad,” I answered, hiding my grin as he gave a sharp little thrust behind me. As I stared down my body, all I could see was his cock disappearing inside of me, my pussy stretched tight around him.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetie,” he said, nipping my ear in reprimand. He went still, but I could feel him flexing inside of me again, right against that sweet little spot that never failed to make sparks quiver along my nerves.

I gasped quietly. “Really, really good,” I finally answered. I reached down, feeling the length of him against my thigh and rubbed my fingers where we connected. He shuddered this time, unable to help giving me an extra pump as my fingertips swirled along his cock.

“Don’t tempt me, kitten,” Sylus grumbled, his breath puffing along the sensitive curve of my ear. “I want to take my time.” He gave my ear a sweep of his tongue before he tugged at my earlobe with a light grip of his teeth.

I settled back more firmly into his embrace, my hips and back arching to press my backside into his groin. I wiggled with a tiny, breathless laugh.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his lips drifting in a light kiss over my ear, then my cheek and my temple. His heartbeat was thumping steadily against my back.

“Mmm,” I hummed happily, closing my eyes. “Missed you, too.” I felt cocooned in his warmth, my hands resting against his forearms.

He curled his thighs along the back of mine, snuggling me deeper into the curve of his lap as he propped himself up on one arm, leaning over me. He touched my chin, turning my face to meet his as he kissed me deeply, his teeth nipping at my lips until they parted, his tongue smoothly entering my mouth in a long, sultry caress. My tongue darted out shyly to meet his, my kitten-like swipes teasing him to enter further. All of my senses were drowning in him -- his fiery taste, that slightly smokey scent from his favorite brand of cigarettes, and the heat and strength of his body.

When he finally released me, I was panting weakly for breath and my nerves were so sensitive, even the whisper of air from the fan above us sent a small jolt through my body. I licked my lips, damp and swollen from his kisses.

“Sylus,” I whisper longingly. He gave a slow pulse inside of me, hardly moving, but I clenched as if he had pounded into me. My skin was tingling, small goosebumps prickling along my legs as he dropped one hand to flutter it over the soft skin of my belly.

“What do you want, sweetie?” he asked again, but this time his voice was a deep, slow drawl of pleasure.

I didn’t answer, rubbing my face back into the pillow, my body softening and a little tender now that the initial flush of arousal was spent. I flexed my muscles around his still-hard length inside of me, hearing the soft, wet sound. I flushed, faintly embarrassed by the noise.

“Hmm, I know what you need,” Sylus answered himself, slowly withdrawing. I whined, not ready to stop just yet, but with the cooling moisture between our bodies, I was starting to get uncomfortable. He lifted me into his arms, cradling me as he slid smoothly off the bed.

I peppered his face with soft kisses, brushing his lips, chin, and throat. “My kitten is always so cuddly after she’s been pleased,” he chuckled, catching my bottom lip between his teeth in a gentle nip as he shouldered open the bathroom door.

“Meow,” I purred playfully, pretending to bat at his shoulder. He moved into the large bathroom, settling me on my feet by the walk-in shower, flipping the handle to warm up the water. I clenched my thighs, a sticky feeling between my legs. His gaze was deep and dark, his eyes drifting down to the glimmer of fluid staining my thighs.

He stepped away to fiddle with the lights, a softer illumination compared to the usual brightness. I stepped into the shower and he puttered around gathering towels, hiding a shy smile as he grabbed a washcloth to clean himself off.

“Grab me a hair tie, darling?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard above the water. I didn’t want to have to dry my hair again before crashing into bed. I let the hot water sluice down my body, fingering the ache between my legs as I gently rubbed away the sticky fluids. I quickly cleaned myself up.

When Sylus entered the shower behind me, he twisted my hair up into a bun, careful not to roughly tug the strands.

“Let me do it,” he murmured gently, reaching over my head for the body soap settled on the ledge. I could hear him lathering the soap as I faced into the spray, and he tugged me out of the water to lean back against his chest, sliding his long, soapy fingers across my collarbones.

I let out a happy sigh as he kneaded my shoulders before slipping down my arms, rubbing in circles and long, smooth swipes of his hands. He tangled his fingers with mine, lifting them to press a quick kiss to the back of my hands before he let go and cleaned my fingers one by one.

His palms and fingers, rough with callouses from boxing and weapon training, swept over my body, massaging my muscles and digging into sore spots I didn’t even know I had. He turned me around in the water spray, kneeling in front of me as he palmed the length of my legs before he whispered for me to spread my legs.

Gently swiping his hand along the seam of my flesh, he gently petted and soaped my thighs before he traced his thumbs higher. My head nodded to the side, watching him as he glanced back up to meet my eyes. I propped one foot up on the shower bench, reaching down to spread the tender, puffy lips of my pussy. I was flushed pink, a little sore, but still hungry for him.

He rinsed the suds away before he palmed my butt and tilted my hips forward towards his hungry mouth. He licked at my clit, lapping at it gently, before tracing his tongue down my pussy, sliding wetly between the lips. I could feel the slick, slightly rough pad of his tongue as he buried it further, pointed and hot and nimble. He swallowed, his tongue darting forward to lap at my shivering little hole, tracing the rim with warm strokes. He thrust it forward, surprisingly deeply, as I cried out, sliding my hands through his hair to grip his head. I cupped my hips forward, begging him wordlessly to dive even deeper inside of me.

He slipped in two fingers next to his tongue, one hand still holding onto my butt to help rock me forward into his mouth. I slipped the foot that was on the bench over his shoulder as he crouched in front of me, wrapping my leg tightly over his back. He grunted in pleasure, his mouth busy sucking and licking at my pussy, his nose nudging at my clit as he finger and tongue-fucked me until I was dripping. I moaned, clenching my fingers tightly in his hair as I rubbed myself off on his tongue and fingers.

“I’m so close,” I said, my breath stuttering in time to my hips bucking against his face.

“Not yet,” he commanded, pulling away despite my protest to pick me up in his arms. He stepped away from the spray, my back now against the tiles as I wrapped my legs around his hips and my arms around his shoulders.

He didn’t even give me time to suck in a breath at the chilly tiles, thrusting into me deeply. I didn’t feel the burn this time, just a wonderful, aching fullness stretching me. He was diamond hard, rocking shallowly at first before bottoming out with one or two thrusts, buried all the way inside. He did it over and over, building my orgasm.

I cried out, calling his name, trying to stretch it out as long as possible. I could feel it hovering just within reach, so close, and I sobbed as my pussy clamped down. I went wild, my hips bucking as he pounded into me, his own groan muffled as he bit down on my shoulder hard. I could feel the imprint of his teeth and tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, so good, oh my god, I’m gonna-” I could feel it, the absolute shattering as I climaxed so hard I squirted, the fluid splashing on his belly as I writhed in his arms. He followed me a few thrusts later, his teeth still gripping my neck and shoulder as he fucked me hard through his own orgasm.

I went boneless in his arms, aftershocks quivering through me as I pulsed around his cock, his hot come filling me up so full, I could see my stomach getting tight. He thrust up, once again keeping it inside of me, plugging me so tight I could practically see the outline of his dick.

“Sy, love, I’m so full,” I said, leaning my head back against the tiles in exhaustion. He twitched, still hard.

“No, no more,” I said as he finally stood upright, admiring the deep bite on the curve of my neck and shoulder.

“Are you positive?” he asked, not moving. I hung limply in his arms, my arms draped over his shoulders. “I can go all night long. It’s been so long, don’t you remember?”

“Absolutely not,” I groaned, pushing at his shoulder. The shower was still running, and I needed to clean myself off - again .

He didn’t argue, slowly lowering me to my feet, and gently guiding me into the spray. He grabbed more soap, squirting some into my hand and his own, before he quickly wiped himself down. He angled himself into the spray, rinsing off before he stepped out, wiping himself roughly with a towel as he grabbed his robe and left to brush his teeth at the sink.

I quickly cleaned myself off, and then stepped out of the shower into the towel he had open for me, wrapping me up in the thick terry cloth and his extra warm embrace. I snuggled into his arms. My hair was a little damp from the stray water spray, but not enough to require me to dry it tonight. I nuzzled into his chest, the silk of his robe smooth and cool against my flushed cheeks.

“Let me finish up, I’ll come help you change the sheets,” I murmured, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before I went to step up to the sink, still wrapped in my towel.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, voice low and untroubled. He didn’t give me a chance to argue, just slipping out of the bathroom.

I finished getting ready for bed before tiredly walking back into the bedroom in a matching (albeit much smaller) couple robe and nightgown. He had already swapped out the bedding, the sheets now a soft red jersey and an extra blanket thrown over the foot of the bed on top of the silky comforter. I clambered back on the bed, settling in with a deep, comfortable sigh as he fluffed the pillows and tucked me under the covers.

Sylus pulled me into his arms, bundled in the blankets, while he lay on top of the bedding. He hadn’t gotten dressed yet, but I knew he would duck into the closet for a new set once I had fallen asleep.

I cuddled into his arms, my face pressed against his neck, breathing softly. I pressed a kiss against his warm skin, smiling sleepily.

“I love you,” he said, low and warm against my ear as he curled around me. He lifted my chin, giving me the sweetest, gentlest kiss I’ve ever received. I could feel tears prick my eyes, and I swallowed, trying to express everything I felt for him in my return kiss.

“I love you, too,” I answered, staring up at him in the dim firelight still flickering.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you happy,” he said, stroking my hair away from my face, his red gaze capturing mine.

We lay like that, simply watching each other in the low light until my eyes grew so heavy, I could barely keep them open. I yawned, curling into the pillows, warm and comfortable and safe.

“You already do,” I murmured, my voice slowly starting to fade. “So…much.”

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #fanfiction #lads #lads sylus #sylus #smut #love and deepspace x you #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x reader

282 notes · View notes

myzticbean · 11 months ago

Text

Stop kitten around - let’s celebrate

Part 1

Title: Stop kitten around - let's celebrate

Pairing: Li Shen | Zayne / MC (fem! reader) Tags: Zayne POV, super fluff, cute cats and birthdays

Zayne is sequestered in his office attempting to make a dent in the waiting stack of paperwork before he can finally go home, when his phone gives a soft chime, alerting him to a message.

MC: come home soon meow

Zayne: Soon. Almost done.

MC: kitty misses her dad meow

Zayne: Kitty hissed and bit me this morning. Kitty certainly doesn’t miss me.

MC: she says she’s sorry, she didn’t mean it

MC: she would like to have dinner with you

Zayne checks the time, surprised to see how late it had already gotten. Concerned, he taps another text message.

Zayne: Why did you wait? Please eat, I’ll be home in a little while.

MC: if i eat now, i’ll fall asleep. i wnt 2 see you b4 i go 2 bed

Zayne: I feel like I’m going to have a stroke when you write like that. I’ll leave in 10.

Zayne puts his phone away, hurrying to clean up the folders and files on his desk and stashes them into his bag. He’ll finish them up at home.

As soon as he walks through the door he sees that the lights are dim, and on the dining room table there’s a little birthday cake with one candle lit. The little tuxedo kitten (well, a cat now, he supposed) sits in a highchair at the table, watching the flickering flame as if mesmerized. It wore a tiny pointed party hat in between the little ears that swivel back and forth in excitement.

“What’s going on?” he asks, hanging his peacoat on the coat rack next to the door.

“Honey!” A muffled little cry came from the doorway leading to the kitchen as a slender woman balancing two plates and some cutlery steps out, plopping the set on the dining room table. “Perfect timing.”

“I really didn’t mean to make you wait for me,” Zayne begins, unwinding the scarf from his neck as he surveys the settings at the table.

“It’s Kitty’s birthday, we had to celebrate,” she grins. She strokes the little cat on her back, who is polite enough not to move from her seat at the table.

“It’s been a year already?” he asks in surprise, sitting down at his usual spot at the head of the table. The cat sits to his right, while his lover sits down to his left. She flicks her dark hair over her shoulder as she gives him a bright smile.

“Our little baby is growing up so fast,” she coos at the little cat across from her. “We couldn’t celebrate without her dad.”

Zayne feels a bubble of warmth in his chest, and he turns and looks at the cat over the top of his glasses. It gives him a slow blink and a gentle meow.

“She’s being very sweet tonight,” he murmurs. He reaches out with a finger, brushing the tip of one ear. The cat obediently lets him fondle her, rubbing her face against the back of his hand.

“She’s sorry she scratched you, she must have been a little grumpy this morning.” He turns to look at the long-haired woman next to him, giving a small hum of disbelief.

“Blow out her candle before it melts too much.” She wisely changes the subject, smiling at him sweetly. “Let’s have dinner, and I’ve got a few sweets to celebrate.”

“It’s probably not best to eat too much sugar this late at night,” he cautions before leaning over to blow out the single candle. Kitty sneezes as if to argue the point. He cuts a small sliver of cake, putting it on the small dish in front of the cat.

“Words I never thought I would hear from you…” She raises her eyebrows in mock surprise, then turns her attention to watch the cat heartily dig into its pet-safe cake.

They both pick up their cutlery, making small talk as they eat. He savors a mouthful of the whiskey she had thoughtfully poured for him, while she sips at a glass of red wine.

“Long day?” she asks, surveying his face. He feels tired but happy, gazing at the love of his life sitting at the table, her small chin propped up on her palm as she looks back at him. Her eyes are gentle and soft, a little droopy at the corners.

“Let me clean up,” he says, getting to his feet to grab the plates.

“No-” she starts to argue, but he waves her back in the seat.

“You cooked, I’ll clean,” he cuts in firmly. She watches as he heads into the kitchen with their plates, the sound of running water soon following.

She takes a sip of her wine, watching the little kitty sitting in her booster seat. The cat’s party hat is slightly askew, but the band still sits under her little chin as she finishes licking the plate.

“Isn’t he the best cat dad in the world?” she asked, reaching across the table to tease the little cat. She boops the kitty’s nose and gives her chin a scratch. The cat yawns widely, showing her sharp teeth, before she starts to paw at the hat on her head.

Zayne stands quietly in the doorway, snapping a couple pictures of the playful woman and the little cat. He disappears back into the kitchen, posting the photo and a short caption.

He admires the photo a moment longer before he puts his phone away, and grabs the small platter of macaroons (only two) that have been set out on the counter.

Zayne walks back into the room just as the cat climbs down from her booster seat, successfully knocking off her birthday hat. She strolls out to the living room to jump on the squishy dark gray velvet chair that has been appropriately named “Kitty’s seat” in the house.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says softly, setting down the plate between them. He sits back in his chair, but before he can move, she stands up and comes around the table to perch in his lap.

She gives him a long, lingering kiss, the flavor of wine bittersweet on her lips. He deepens the kiss gladly, silently coaxing her to part her lips, and he slips his tongue into her mouth in a smooth caress. He cups her jaw, his other hand dropping to smooth along her hip and thigh.

“My love,” she sighs, a warm little puff of breath against his lips. His chest tightens again, a familiar pain, but he’s so pleasantly warmed by her words, he can’t help but to kiss her - once, twice, a third time. He slides his mouth down to pepper soft kisses on her chin, her cheek, before dropping his head to bury his face into her neck.

“Sweetheart, sometimes you…” he trails off.

Instead, he’s quiet for a moment longer, pressing another warm kiss to her neck, his hand sliding up to bury into her long, dark hair.

“Thank you. For reminding me to come home. For remembering special birthdays.” He reminisces fondly about the birthday that had just passed, the party and well-wishes of his friends and colleagues, the cake and sweets, and the palpable adoration she never hesitated to shower upon him. He could drown in such happiness.

She grins widely, looping her arms around his neck and giving him a squeeze. “I am pretty amazing,” she agrees. She reaches over, picking up a macaroon and bringing it up to his mouth.

“Not too much sugar, but just a little taste.” He nibbles gently at the sweet in her hand as she holds it up to his mouth, feeding him bite by bite. He reaches out to grab the remaining macaroon, returning the favor.

She swallows the last morsel, sighing happily. She leans down, giving him another kiss, and now it’s so sweet he would swear he had another toothache if she hadn’t just made him go to the dentist.

“Let me put the rest of the cake in the refrigerator,” she whispers, brushing her lips across his. “You get the shower started, and I’ll join you. And after we get out of the shower…we’ll need another one to get clean again.”

Notes:

More coming in the affectionately titled 'Cat Dad' series! <3 You can also check it out at A03.

Kitty photo credit - Reddit

#fanfiction #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne #cute cats #fluff #lnds zayne #zayne x reader

100 notes · View notes

myzticbean · 11 months ago

Text

This. WAS. AMAZING.

traditional chinese firework huohu火壶 by 江寻千

7K notes · View notes

myzticbean · 11 months ago

Text

LADs Fic updates

I've been working on a little something (outside of smut, I mean), and I'm tentatively calling it my AU "Uni-verse" harem...wherein MC is in college, and all of the LI are in the same timeline and approach her in different ways. I'm actually...I don't know, pleased so far. I'll post some snippets when it's ready.

I've also got a billion others rolling around in my head, like MC-is-a-stripper-in-the-N109-zone-verse. And also one where they all raise a cat. So I mean...I've got my work cut out for me.

#fanfiction #love and deepspace #lads #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace

23 notes · View notes

myzticbean · 11 months ago

Text

*weeps into my nachos belle grande*

“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it

140K notes · View notes

myzticbean · 11 months ago

Text

Sex pollen made me do it

When I saw the Misty Invasion card about the protocores (and how they can seduce you into feeling...other things), I was immediately inspired. The sex pollen trope makes me chuckle, and I thought if anyone would take advantage of it, it would be our cutie Xavier.

If you'd like to read my fic on A03, you can find Part 1 here. I always appreciate feedback! Update: Part 2 live now!

Title: On The Job Work Hazards | Part 1

Pairing: Shen Xinghui | Xavier/You (fem! reader) Tags: Mildly dubious consent, blow jobs, semi-public sex, sex pollen

It wasn’t a hard battle, but the constant dodging was definitely wearing down my stamina as Xavier and I fought to break through the Wanderers’ shields. This one looked like a giant flower, with purple petals glimmering in the strange twilight of the protofield. If one could ignore the giant gaping maw of sharp teeth, and the violent spray of pollen puffing around its body, it would almost look beautiful.

Finally nearing the end, I briefly glanced down at my hunter watch interface to gauge its remaining health. In that split second, it charged at me, shaking its stems as the razored edge of the petals slashed forward. Xavier dashed in front of me, the slice of his blade light throwing the Wanderer into sharp relief as it fell backwards away from them.

“Xavier!” I cried out, watching as he stumbled, a haze of yellow pollen coating his face and chest. I reached out to grab him, cradling him in my arms. His blue eyes appeared dazed and dreamy - not unusual during his downtime, but he had never appeared anything less than laser focused during our missions together.

“Let’s do it now,” he gasped, choking as he inhaled more of the powder. I coughed as well, the yellow dust sticking to my lips. When I swallowed, there was a strangely sweet though gritty taste in my mouth.

Holstering my gun and removing my sword, we both raced forward, striking with expert precision. The Wanderer’s garbled cry faded as it soon disintegrated into a puff of black and blue matter.

Xavier immediately slumped to the ground, groaning. I rushed over, falling to my knees beside him.

“Xavier? What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” I patted his shoulders and arms as gently as I could, looking for broken bones or blood. I moved down his chest to his legs, squinting as I shifted closer. The navy uniform was good at disguising bloodstains.

“Not. Hurt.” He panted, mouth open as he tilted his head back. He leaned back on his palms, his legs quivering under my touch.

“I don’t believe you,” I answered bluntly, hands moving more swiftly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

This time his groan sounded more like a moan, his hips giving an aborted thrust when I stroked my hands once more down his thighs. I paused, looking down to see his arousal tenting the slim, tight fit of his pants.

He watched me, his eyes hooded and hazy, desire turning his eyes into a dark, watery blue. I felt like I was being sucked into a whirlpool.

“Xavier?” I asked hesitantly. “Is…is it what I think it is?”

Watching his face flush, whether it was desire or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell, but I felt my own cheeks turning red. That sweet and salty flavor once again assaulted my senses.

“Was it the pollen?” I asked worriedly, and he shrugged. His head bobs as if he’s drunk. My hands have stopped their wandering, and he whines a little at the loss.

“Touch me,” he gasps, his breathing turning labored. “I need you.”

It felt like a punch to the gut, and desire seemed to melt through my bloodstream at his words. It wasn’t like we hadn’t danced around each other for the last few months working together. After grandma and Caleb…Xavier was just there, working the same long hours I had. It wasn’t quite so lonely in my almost devastating grief.

My hands hovered unconsciously above his lap, but I didn’t press down.

“You’re not in any condition to give me consent, Xavier,” I said quietly. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital?”

He was starting to sweat, small beads at his hairline, and he roughly opened the neck clasp of his jacket. A glimmer of his skin peeked through the unbuttoned collar. I pressed my thighs together, trying not to notice my own uncomfortably warm reaction. While I hadn’t been exposed to nearly the same level of pollen that Xavier had, I could feel my own body starting to heat up.

He caught the hint of my movement, licking his bottom lip in pleasure. He reached for me, pulling me closer and into his lap. I gasped softly, feeling the hot, hard length of him pressed against my backside. I unconsciously rocked back before abruptly stilling the movement, even as he tried to press me down even more firmly against him.

“Honey, please” he pleaded, a term of endearment I had never heard him use before today. Usually he called me by my name (or my full name when he was very irritated).

“Xav, don’t,” I whispered, my hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders, a little desperate now. “I can’t do this while you’re not in your right mind.”

“No,” he said abruptly, his glassy eyes staring straight into mine. “I know what I want, I know what’ll make us both feel better.” He cupped his hand over my pussy, and I whimpered at the heated press of his palm even through my pants.

He lowered his eyes to watch his hand rubbing slowly against me. I shuddered in pleasure, giving into a small rocking motion against him. With his hot, hard cock now pressing eagerly in the crease of my butt, and his hand expertly fondling me, I wouldn’t need much encouragement to come right then and there.

“I’m…I’m already…” I was a little dazed by how quickly I could feel myself starting to lose myself in the sensation of his hand and warm body pressed under me.

“You wanna come?” he asked roughly, his thumb now pressing with expert accuracy against the seam of my pants right over my clit. I shuddered and moaned, pressing my face into his neck.

“Oh, gods,” I whispered, trying not to grind too hard into him, but I could hardly stop the movement. I took a deep, panting breath. His natural scent and the sweet, powdery wisps of the pollen hit me hard. I wondered how damp my panties and trousers had become, and from his swallowed curse, I was guessing it was undeniable now.

He held me even tighter against him, removing one arm around me to brace behind him. Using the leverage, he thrust up more firmly against me. Even now, I could feel the sweet ache building, and he wasn’t even inside of me. I hadn’t dry humped with a boyfriend since I was in highschool. I chuckled a little breathlessly at the thought, before groaning against the sensitive skin of his neck.

He muttered something unintelligible, I couldn’t hear it over the rushing of blood and the sizzle on my skin. I lifted up, shifting around as I lowered my hand between our bodies, rubbing a little roughly over his cock still trapped in his pants, and it was like a spark of electricity went off between us.

I could feel him, pulsing quickly under my hand, and I knew it wouldn’t take much to send him over the edge. His strokes, previously methodical, were now erratic against my pussy. It helped clear my head, just a little, enough so I could back off his legs a bit.

“No, don’t,” he said desperately, his hands once again reaching for me, but this time I moved determinedly away from him.

“Shh,” I whispered, glancing at him beneath lowered lashes. “Let me take care of you first. Just to take off the edge.” I took another look around, but we were in a deserted no-entry zone with no other nearby teams. I would need to call into headquarters soon, though - we shouldn’t be quiet on the coms too long.

He hissed quietly when my hands went to the myriad of belt buckles across his jacket and finally around his waist, loosening just enough I could gingerly tug the zipper down. He was so hard, he strained against the barrier, and I didn’t watch to catch any skin. He sucked in a breath, watching my hands at work. Xavier braced one arm back to support his weight, while he lifted his other hand to play with strands of my hair.

“Lift up a little, sweetheart,” I said, tugging a little at his waistband, but I missed the dark flare in his eyes at the unconscious endearment. I wanted to pull down his briefs enough to free him without the band sliding back up. He shifted and without much effort, I watched as he pulled his cock free, his normally pale skin now flushed.

The soft skin over his belly, with sparse blonde hairs trailing down to his cock, was pink with his arousal. The tip flushed an angry red, quivering between us. A small bead of clear fluid seeped from the tip, and without any teasing, I took him into my hand.

I gave a slow, easy pump, and I thought he was going to tumble to the ground, the sound of his pleasure rumbling in his chest. I didn’t have much time to linger. I flicked my gaze upwards, my hand still steadily moving. He covered my hand with his own, hot and a little damp, his gaze dark and wild as he watched our fingers moving up and down together.

“It feels so good,” he murmured, his face lax and sex-drunk. He tipped his head back, eyes closing, lost in the feeling of our hands on his taut, warm flesh.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” I ask, low and sweet, my hand getting damp and a little sticky from his precum. I leaned over, not really thinking, and opened my mouth, letting a little dribble of spit wet his cock.

He gasped, clenching his hand tightly around mine. “Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart,” I cautioned, seeing how the red - almost purple - head of his cock swelled. He caught his breath on another gasp, moving my hand a little faster, up and down, twisting a little over the tip before circling down back to the root.

“What do you want?” I asked again. I knew he was getting close already. I lowered one of my hands between my legs, rubbing lightly over the seam of my pants. I could feel how damp I was even through the thick fabric.

“Yeah, touch yourself,” he begged, his eyes now locked on my hands. “Or let me do it.”

“Just focus on yourself,” I ordered. “Is it okay if I use my mouth?”

I didn’t pause my movements, guided by his hands, but there was a stutter as his hips thrust into our grip, another bead of precum leaking down over our fingertips.

“Yes,” Xavier hissed, his tousled blonde hair falling forward over his eyes as he curled forward. “Please, please.”

I didn’t draw it out, crouching down over his lap, my knees digging uncomfortably into the rocky dirt. I lapped at the tip, the slightly bitter, salty taste spreading over my tongue as I gently swiped up the moisture.

“Fuck, yes,” he whispered, finally falling back and laying flat on the ground underneath me. His hips gave an aborted buck before stilling as he tried to catch his breath. Powdery streaks of pollen dotted his uniform, the gritty texture dusting his cheeks.

Without teasing him further, I swallowed down as our hands pumped down on his shaft, opening my mouth wide to take him in slowly. I tried to pool a little saliva in my mouth, letting it wet his dick as I inched down his length. I tucked my lips closer and twitched my tongue as I tried to widen around him, avoiding pressure with my teeth.

“Take it, yeah, just like that,” he murmured, his eyes locked on me. With his free hand, he cupped the back of my head, tugging me closer. I inhaled through my nose, trying to breathe normally while I swallowed a little around his cock, taking it in further until it bumped the back of my throat.

I swallowed again against the pool of saliva flooding my mouth, trying not to gag. He didn’t press me any further, letting me adjust, the warmth of my mouth sending little quivers of pleasure through him. I could feel his thighs tremble slightly under me.

After a moment to adjust, I slowly bobbed my head, my hand pumping up to follow my mouth as I sucked on him, dragging my tongue in a slow wave against the sensitive underside of the head. His sucked in breath told me he liked it, so I rubbed my tongue there again before swallowing him back down.

He moaned, his fingers tightening their grip as he cradled my head in his hand. I made little bobs, suckling as I settled into a smooth rhythm. My fingers massaged his cock as my mouth wetted it with each languid slide up and down, my tongue fluttering over the head with each pass.

“Honey, please,” he whispered, voice strained. I liked the pet name, liked the tiny shiver of excitement that shot through me when I heard his voice wrecked with pleasure.

I sucked more strongly, beginning to pump a little faster and bobbing my head into a shorter, faster dip. While I didn’t bottom out quite as much, I could feel him beginning to pulse and flex in my hands.

His hips started to thrust in time to meet my mouth, pressing a little deeper when I sucked down, my nose brushing the soft, sparse blonde hairs at the base of his cock. I moaned, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure rippling through him. I could hear his fast, breathless pants, his hand fisting in my ponytail as he guided me a little more roughly.

I choked, my throat tightening and spasming around him, and he grunted. “Yeah, baby, let me, just like that.”

His voice wasn’t soft and sweet anymore, a low growl humming underneath the usually breathless quality of his voice. I shuddered, feeling caught in his grip, trying to breath as he thrust a little more deeply, bumping the back of my throat. I whimpered and swallowed, releasing his cock with my hand so I could brace myself on his thighs. He took over, fisting his cock as he pressed forward between my lips.

I could feel saliva draining, my mouth gleaming, the corners of my mouth leaking down and pooling down on his flesh. The wet fap of his hand and my mouth made me blush furiously, embarrassed and aroused in equal measure.

I was so turned on even as I remained untouched. My nails dug into the rough, thick fabric of his pants, scritching a little at the stretch and burn in my lips and jaw. I mewed just a little, trying to keep a steady rhythm.

“Don’t stop, I’m close,” he warned, his voice tight. I could feel his balls tighten when my chin brushed them, my lips dragging as I bobbed my head, throat working on each swallow. His precum spread over the roof of my mouth, coating my tongue, and the scent of his arousal blocked out everything else.

His thrusts became deeper, more powerful as he let go of some of that tight control he always had, his cock fucking my mouth as he threw his head back, his guttural moans like dark music in the deserted space. Finally, his entire body tightened, taut like a bowstring as he arched, his muffled “fuck” echoing as he spurted into my mouth.

He thrust a few times, erratic now, as a hot, warm gush of his come flooded my mouth, bitter and salty and thick on my tongue. I wanted desperately to pull away and spit it out, but he held my head tight in his hand, still pushing me down a little on his cock as he gave a few final jerks into my mouth.

“Yeah, honey, so good, you did so good,” he murmured, finally releasing my hair and letting me pull back, releasing his cock with a small pop . “Can you swallow for me?"

I grimaced but did as he asked, swallowing down his release before sighing, and settled back on my heels next to him.

“Are you okay?” I asked tentatively as his breathing finally calmed, and he slipped his pants back over his hips though left the belt unbuckled. He looked a little lazy, his eyes hazy with pleasure and a slight sheen of sweat dampening his neckline. He looked tousled and ruffled, and I wanted to jump on top of him and pin him down to the ground.

When he looked at me and met my gaze, I wondered just how much I had revealed, because his lip curled in amusement as he watched the expressions flit across my face.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he answered slowly, his voice back the usual soft, breathy puff. But his heavy-lidded eyes were dark, passion-filled, and I wondered just what he was thinking.

I felt a little awkward, not sure what I should be doing now that the initial burst of desire had passed. I quickly swiped my hands over my face, blushing at the damp saliva and traces of his come still dotting my chin and cheeks, swallowing the taste of him in my mouth. He watched my hands, and I could see he was semi-hard through the tight fit of his slacks.

I shifted backwards, getting ready to stand, but he grabbed me and lifted me onto his lap. I squealed a little as he settled me down, bending his knees a little to cuddle me closer, his arms looping around me.

Xavier leaned forward a little, pressing his face into the bend between my neck and shoulder, breathing deeply. He nosed my collar out of the way, a soft kiss lightly fluttering over the sensitive skin.

“Xa…vier…” I whispered, trembling a little in his arms. I was a little confused, and a little unsure of what to do. He could swing hot or cold depending on the day and our mutual stress level and workload. We had never been this intimate before, always dancing on the edge of something more but neither willing to commit to it.

“Come home with me,” he murmured, lips peppering kisses up my neck, cheek, my chin, before sweeping over my lips in a gentle caress. “I want to make you feel good.”

I lifted a hand, cupping his cheek. “Is this from the pollen?” I asked warily. “To be honest, I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

He opened his mouth, getting ready to speak, when a sudden beep from my hunter watch interrupted us. I answered, pressing the interface button. “Hunter, we detected some anomalies in your area. Have you completed your mission?”

“Yes, we defeated the wanderer and closed the protofield. However, we were both sprayed with an unidentified powder, and will be initializing Decontamination Protocol 3.”

“Understood. Report back after decontamination protocol has been completed. HQ out.”

“Hunter out.”

I turned off the watch as Xavier stared back at me, cradling me in his arms. He didn’t clutch me tightly, but soothingly rubbed up and down my spine, which I could feel despite the thick leather vest I wore. It felt surprisingly natural. I wondered if the pollen was also affecting me, especially when I leaned forward in his arms and brushed my lips over his cheek. I drifted across his soft skin, nibbling at his earlobe. It flushed red beneath my lips and tongue, and his breath caught in a light gasp before he spoke.

“Will you come home with me?” he asked, his voice quiet and subdued. He knew there was a chance I’d say no, and that he couldn’t argue with me.

“I…” I hesitated, before sighing and saying, “yes. I want to. But it really might not be a good idea.”

He cupped my chin, silently requesting that I raise my eyes to his. I glanced up, a little shy, and unconsciously lifted my hands to cover my mouth.

He pulled the hand away, kissing me deeply. There was no way he couldn’t taste himself on my lips and tongue. He hungrily sipped at my mouth, slicking open my lips so that our tongues could playfully curl together. He rubbed the roof of my mouth before retracting his tongue and gently pulling away.

He rested his forehead against mine, and I could feel his slowly hardening arousal pressed between us. I unconsciously rocked forward in his lap, enjoying the slow released huff of his breath.

“You feel so good,” he said, voice a little rough. He swallowed hard. “I’ll do whatever you want. Even if you just want me to take you home. To your home,” he clarified.

“I want you,” I answered softly. I felt a little embarrassed, but made myself meet his eyes. “I want a shower, and I want you…to…” I gulped. “I want you to fuck me. And then make love to me.”

He groaned, peppering little kisses on her face. “Yes,” he said, his voice quiet and a desperate tinge to the agreement. “Wrap your legs around me.”

I did as he asked, sliding my arms over his shoulders, and he boosted himself to his feet, holding me steady with one palm cupping my butt. I heard the clank of his belt rustling as he held me up against his belly.

“Hold on tight,” he murmured. And with a dazzling flash of light, we were swept away.

#love and deepspace #lads xavier #fanfiction #xavier love and deepspace #sex pollen #smut #xavier x mc #xavier x reader #misty invasion

174 notes · View notes