#love and deepspace motorcycles

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

270HM

Vehicle Type: Motorcycle

Details:

The 270HM is an exclusive motorcycle for Deepspace Hunters that was developed by Ever Group's Research Facility. It employs state-of-the-art aerodynamic technology. Because of the high speeds it can reach, only those who have undergone professional training can obtain a motorcycle license for it.

It's currently offered in three models:

270HM

310HM

380HM

[ormymarius]

biker Sylus… I mean, I’m not a slut, but who knows

[sylusenthusiast]

/SURRENDER.

ෆ genre : one-shot with a dash of spiciness. ෆ pairing : sylus x you / sylus x reader

The stars outside Sylus's garage glitter like frozen diamonds, distant and unfeeling, much like the man standing across from you. The strange silence fills the room, as you take in the man in all leather as he leans up against his motorcycle. You had been exploring his expansive home and found your way here after avoiding Mephisto, Luke and Kieran despite having been here various times before.

Sylus liked to keep you close when he felt you were too close to danger. He knew you hated it, but he loved telling you what to do - especially when you listened.

"You enjoy control too much," you say, your voice low but challenging, stepping toward him from the shadows. The dim light hanging from above casts a faint blue glow over his face, accentuating the hard angles of his jaw, and the tension in his stance.

His gaze narrows, his lips curving into a smirk that never quite reaches his eyes. "Control keeps me alive. It's kept you alive too, in case you've forgotten, kitten."

You don't flinch at the nickname, standing your ground as the space between you crackles with tension. Sylus is always calculating, always one step ahead, never allowing anyone to see beyond his carefully crafted exterior. But tonight, something in him seems different. His eyes flicker with a darker intensity, a restrained hunger that he's trying to keep in check.

"Maybe you should try letting go," you suggest, your voice bold, though your heart races at the audacity of your words.

Sylus arches an eyebrow, amused but intrigued. His hand reaches out, and his fingertips brush against your arm, the touch feather-light but electrifying. "Letting go?" he repeats, his tone going lower and more dangerous. "You think you're up for that kind of challenge?"

Your breath hitches, and before you can respond, he pulls you toward him, standing between his long legs as he manspreads while on the bike. His lips hover near your ear, a raspy voice leaving them. "I control everything here - every system, every weapon, every outcome. What makes you think you can change that?"

You look up at him, your pulse quickening. "Because I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not watching. You're not as untouchable as you want everyone to believe."

For a moment, his mask slips. His expression darkens, and there's something raw, something vulnerable in his eyes that you've never seen before. Sylus's hand moves from your arm to your jaw, gripping it firmly but not harshly, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You're playing a dangerous game," he warns, though his tone wavers slightly. It's not just a threat - it's a confession.

"Then why don't we both take the risk?" you challenge, pushing back against the control he clings to so tightly.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words. And then, as if something snaps, his lips crash against yours. It's not the careful, calculated Sylus you've come to know - it's raw, intense, filled with need. His kiss is possessive, yet there's a desperate edge to it as if he's been holding back for too long. His hands roam over your body, exploring, but still, there's a sense of restraint in him, a constant battle with himself.

You pull back just enough to catch your breath, letting out a shaky sigh. "For once, let go. Let me take control."

His eyes search yours, the flicker of uncertainty there again. Slowly, his hands relax their grip, and he leans in, his breath hot against your skin.

"Fine," he murmurs with a growl. "But only for tonight."

[dissociation-station123]

Small teaser:

I have been drafting a slowish burn fan-fic for Sylus from Love and Deep Space. I could not get the whole biker Sylus imagery out of my head so I wrote this! Please enjoy!

~

“Want to get out of here?” Sylus asks, seeing your frustration with the crowd of people. You simply nod now nonverbal from being a bit overwhelmed. He takes your hand and guides you effortlessly around the throngs of people.

The cool air hits your overheated cheeks and you sigh content, now that you both are outside. “Want to go for a ride? The weather is perfect.” You imagine a nice drive with the windows down as the scenery passes by and it sounds like a wonderful idea so again you nod in agreement. He grins as he begins walking towards the small parking lot.

You are looking for a sleek muscle or possible luxury car based on his outward appearance. Expensive because he loves flashing that little black card around you as if it makes a difference.

He surprises you when he stops in front of a dark gray motorcycle instead. “Ooo no.” You shout on impulse, backing away slowly. Sylus still has your hand and yanks you forward.

“Don’t tell me you're scared.” He chuckles condescendingly with a cocky expression. You glare up at him and it only makes him laugh harder.

“Not scared. Just a logical person.” You grit your teeth in aggravation. He lets go of your hand only to pull out a helmet. “There is nothing to protect you.”

He takes hold of your shoulder and you tense. He leans in inches from your face with that staple fox-like smirk. His thumb swipes across your chin, you are momentarily stunned by his closeness.

“This will protect you sweetie.” Before you realize what is happening or could protest he shoves the helmet on your head, quickly strapping the chin strap in a fluid motion.

You begin cursing him to the fullest but your voice is muffled by the helmet. He nods as if he is listening yet it was obvious he heard nothing.

“Are you done throwing a tantrum?” You punch his shoulder and he is unbothered. “I promise to keep you safe. Come on live a little will ya. Aren’t you tired of playing it safe all the time?”

You really were. You were tired and slowly losing your mind over time. The same monotonous schedule over and over again. When you grow quiet he assumes your defeat.

“That’s it.” He purrs, leading you closer to the chunk of metal before you. “See this strap here. Don’t use it to hold on unless you want to bounce around. Cling to me instead. Got it?”

He takes your silence for understanding. “When I turn, lean with me. Or else we may become unbalanced and die in a fiery crash. Ready sweetie?” He does not pause for your consideration. You are lifted up and placed on the back, even as you claw to stay on the ground.

You grumble as he towers over you. He lifts the visor staring down at you. “I do need your consent.” Sylus waits as you ponder your decision. There is no huff of inpatients or teasing.

Your heart is racing at the idea of riding on this bike. You are scared there is no denying that. Yet his words from before ring true once again. You always walk on the line. You made sure to stay unnoticed until he saw you. “Alright let's do this.” You say with bated breath.

A beaming smile overtakes his face. His eyes glint with excitement. “So brave. I’m proud of you.” You fight the urge to spew insults as he pushes down the visor of the helmet once again. A part of you gushes at his praise and that annoys you.

You gulp as he throws his leg over the motorcycle. He looks back and you give him a shaky thumbs up causing him to chuckle as he places the key in the ignition.

He turns the key and the bike roars to life beneath you. Immediately you place your arms around him tightly. With the deafening growl you don’t hear him laugh, you just feel his chest vibrate against your touch. You can tell he is amused by your clingy ness before he even starts moving.

You shriek like a banshee when he pulls out of the parking space. Your own startled scream echoing within the confines of the helmet. You squeeze your eyes shut in panic. He causally pats your hand but it does not help calm you, not one bit.

You take in a deep breath still unable to pry yourself from his body as he turns onto the street. Sylus does not speed off at top speeds like you expect him to. He maintains a safe momentum down the road allowing you to take some control of your anxiety.

You begin repeating his instructions: hold onto him; when he turns lean with him to avoid crashing. This helps you to relax your chaotic thoughts of immediate death.

You slowly open your eyes and take in the scenery. The block was full of people clamoring from one bar to the next. You watched as their heads turned to get a glimpse of him as he drove by. Without even trying he is the center of attention.

Sylus taps your arm and motions for you to look forward. A sharp turn is quickly approaching and you nod your head in understanding. You grasp onto his waist and ready yourself to follow his motion.

You are hyper aware of his body as you lean against him. Completely focused on mimicking his posture. You follow his lead as it moves slightly to the left.

A jolt of excitement rushes through you as you zip through the curve. You giggle as the bike easily hugs the road. A sense of euphoria replaces the fear and you realize you are enjoying yourself.

So much so that you whine a bit when he is forced to stop at a red light. Once stopped you feel his hand glide to your thigh. He gives it a sharp squeeze and you jump in surprise. He turns and mouths, “Good job.”

The loud thumping from your chest due to the adrenaline travels lower. The steady hum under you, his fingers still wrapped around you, it is intoxicating. Sylus is dangerous in many ways. Like many dangerous things you could see yourself becoming addicted.

Before you could come to any realizations the light turns green and the bike takes off once again. Sylus releases his hold on your upper thigh and points forward.

A few miles a head lay two choices. You could remain riding on the back roads through downtown at a leisurely pace. OR you could merge onto the highway, a much more risky proposition. You weren’t sure why this simple decision felt so important. Stay safe or take a risk.

Overcome by the thrill of your first ride and feeling more rebellious you lean up against him. You nervously let go of his waist to point in the direction of the highway. His eyebrow raises, but he smirks.

You nod confirming your decision and you gasp as he squeezes your thigh once again. “My brave girl.” You couldn’t hear his words, the engine was too loud, but you read his lips. Your spine tingled and you were ready to embrace the chaos. Chaos did not seem so bad if Sylus was by your side.

[aronkiepronkie]

i just randomly remembered that MC rides a MOTORCYCLE. i feel like not enough people talk about that like can we have the boys thirsting over MC while she rides her motorcycle. forget xavier zayne rafayel and caleb i want MC

[lisharchivez]

Motorcycle Missing[Daily]🐦‍⬛ chat with Sylus: all possible outcomes

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Requirements not an affinity reward . will show up in your chat after enough time has passed . Recommend: affinity 30+ with Sylus

🖤

🖤He starts the chat

you have only one option

2nd response happens simultaneously without you doing anything

🖤🖤

🖤Next options

🖤🖤

🖤Outcomes

🖤🖤🖤

🖤next options

🖤🖤🖤

🖤Outcomes

🖤🖤🖤🖤

🖤Next option

🖤🖤🖤🖤

🖤Outcomes

Did your game's Sylus's Motorcycle go missing too? What option did you you choose?

please like & reblog , Help me reach more Lads players who might want to know these

Curious about other posts and chats outcomes from zayne ,sylus and others ? Checks more in my pinned.

Like & follow for more.

The end ;)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

[pearlsinmyhair]

just trying to battle in love and deepspace when sylus decides to drop his “you up for a joyride later?” line.

[zara-renata]

hello so i was checking my notifications and uh

HELLO??? ngl u got me shooketh this fine sunday afternoon haha hope you're having a nice day!

hehe thank you for your kind thoughts, i hope you're having a really good day too! and pfft, clearly other people also really liked reading your stuff, you shouldn't be so surprised!!

i really love seeing how the fandom thinks about mc spending sylus's money, and your fic is a really sweet and heartfelt take. like, turning his generosity back on him and just spending it lovingly on him and the people he cares about is a beautiful thought.

i've also seen other people say their mc or they would take the money and enjoy spending it, because he clearly enjoys sharing it with you and having your life eased by what he can do for you and obviously the association is Not Paying You Enough for what bullshit you have to put up with 😭

i can definitely see mc or reader approaching sylus's generosity depending on sylus's behavior on any given day: is he being a sweet, well-behaved gentleman who respects your boundaries and refrains from exploding anyone? you shower him with gifts bought with his own money, things you have noticed he hasn't thought to give to himself. if he's dragged you into a mess or obnoxiously manipulated you into a situation you otherwise wouldn't have said yes to just to get his way, then you donate a huge amount to a rehabilitation and job training fund for people convicted of grand theft auto... specifically, the one that poor bastard who stole sylus's motorcycle could use after you prevent sylus from straight up murdering him for stealing the wrong asshole's bike.

reading your writing gave me all sorts of ideas and was really fun to read. i think that's what's really nice about being in an active and creative fandom!

[baerenhaft]

[ghostlychocobo]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: 恋与深空 | Love and Deepspace (Video Game) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Qin Che | Sylus/You Characters: Qin Che | Sylus, You, Kieran (Love and Deepspace), Luke (Love and Deepspace) Additional Tags: POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Consensual, Motorcycles, Napping, Not Beta Read, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, again... i don't have a problem... it's called passion, Domestic Fluff, Romance, Established Relationship, reader is mc Summary:

You and Sylus take advantage of having a free weekend for once.

[paradisekissmoon]

😂😂🤭🤭

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Motorcycles & Cars

These are all of the specific personal transportation vehicles mentioned and/or portrayed in-game. Every now and then, the game will show a non-descript car/vehicle as part of a background. While I'm doing my best to identify everything they show, I'm only going to do specific posts about identified in-game vehicles.

Note: As of this moment, the jury is still out on what kinds of automotive options they have in Linkon City (electric vehicles, gas-powered combustion engines, something else entirely, etc.). I haven't heard any mention of gas/fuel stations, but also haven't heard anything about charging stations.

Cars:

Zayne's car

Mercedes-Benz AMG Vision Gran Turismo

Porsche Macan GTS

Morotcycles:

270HM, 310HM, and 380HM

[water-dragon213]

Short little drabble about beginning to enjoy a ride out in the N109 Zone a little too much with Sylus.

[sexysilverstrider]

get behind her zayne

[sugugasm]

BET | love and deepspace

⟡ tags : underground boxer! sylus + reader — sylus isn’t afraid of going all in when it comes to you.

ミ★ content warning : fem! reader uses she/her prns, mentions of blood & injuries, mentions of female anatomy as well as male anatomy, oral fem! receive, gentle to rough sex, pet names like bby, dove, kitten, honey, 5.0K WORD COUNT

you step into the dimly lit underground boxing gym, the air thick with the scent of sweat, cigarette smoke, and leather. it’s a seedy place, hidden in the heart of the city’s most notorious neighborhood, where the law doesn’t dare to tread. the crowd tonight is a mix of rough characters - bikers with gang patches on their jackets, local gangsters with glares and expensive watches, shady high-rollers in suits looking to place big bets on the illegal fights.

as you navigate through the throng of people, you spot him in the corner, preparing for his match. sylus - the man who happened to be your ex-boyfriend . . oh, and only the most feared bare-knuckled boxer in the underground circuit. he was a sight to behold, all rippling muscles and newfound tattoos, with messy silver hair that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. you watch as he methodically wraps his hands, his intense red eyes focused on the task.

your history with sylus is complicated, to say the least. you met him two years ago at a biker rally, drawn to his bad-boy charm and undeniable charisma. he swept you off your feet with his daredevil antics on his custom harley and his smooth talking ways. but sylus’s world was always filled with danger, violence, and illegal activities. as the leader of onychinus, the city’s most notorious motorcycle club, he ran an empire built on illicit evol weapons, protocore deals, and underground fighting.

at first, the thrill of it all was intoxicating - the adrenaline rush of riding on the back of his bike, the wild parties at the onychinus clubhouse, watching him dominate in the ring. but as time went on, you grew tired of the constant chaos and the fear that one day, sylus’s risky lifestyle would catch up to him. you wanted stability, a future - things that sylus scoffed at. ‘i live in the moment, babe,’ he would say with that infuriating smirk. ‘and right now, all i want is you.’

but it wasn’t enough. six months ago, after a particularly brutal fight that left sylus battered and bleeding, you reached your breaking point. you told him you couldn’t watch him destroy himself anymore, that you needed more than he could give you. sylus, stubborn and proud as ever, refused to change. ‘this is who i am,’ he growled. ‘so take it or leave it.’ so you left, walking away from the man you loved, determined to build a life free from the violence and uncertainty.

now, seeing him again after all this time, you feel a mix of emotions stirring within you. anger, hurt, frustration . . . but also a undeniable pull of attraction and longing. as if sensing your presence, sylus glances up, his red eyes locking with yours. a slow, confident smirk spreads across his handsome face as he saunters over to you, the crowd parting before him.

“well, well. look who it is,” he drawls, looking you up and down appreciatively. “didn’t expect to see you here tonight, [★]. come to watch me dominate the ring as usual?”

you scoff and cross your arms, determined not to let him see how much his presence affects you. “i’m not here for you, sylus. i’m just here to collect on some bets.”

he chuckles, a deep, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. “sure you are, sweetheart. keep telling yourself that.”

sylus takes a step closer, invading your personal space. he smells like musk and sandalwood, a scent that brings back memories of stolen moments and passionate nights. “i miss you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. “everything’s been so boring without you around to keep me on my toes.”

you try to stay strong, but you can feel your resolve wavering. damn him and his charm. “i’m not here to rehash the past, sylus. what do you want?”

his eyes glint with a challenge. “make a bet with me - when i win the championship belt tonight, you give me another shot. a chance to prove that we’re meant to be together.”

you laugh in disbelief. “you can’t be serious. we’re done, sy. i’m not falling for your games again.”

“who says it’s a game?” he counters, his expression turning serious. “i know i messed up, [★]. i wasn’t ready before, but i am now. i want you back in my life. i need you.”

you hesitate, torn between your lingering feelings and your better judgment. sylus is a force of nature, wild and untamed. being with him is like dancing on the edge of a razor - thrilling but dangerous. can you really risk your heart again?

“and what do i get if you lose?” you ask, buying yourself time to think.

sylus flashes you a cocky grin. “you know i never lose, kitten. but if by some miracle i do . . i’ll leave you alone. for good. unless you decide you can’t resist me and come crawling back.”

you snort at his arrogance, even as a part of you wonders if he might be right. sylus has always had a hold on you, an undeniable magnetism that draws you in against your will, “fine,” you hear yourself saying, almost as if from a distance. “you’ve got a deal.”

his grin widens, triumphant. “get ready to come back to where you belong, [★] - with me.”

the crowd starts to get louder, chanting and cheering as the lights flicker and dim. it’s almost time for the main event - sylus’s championship fight. he starts to walk towards the ring, but pauses and turns back to face you.

“watch closely now, honey,” he says with a wink. “i’m about to show you what you’ve been missing.”

with that, he strides away, his movements graceful and predatory. you watch him go, your heart pounding in your chest.

what had you gotten yourself into?

as the crowd’s chanting reaches a fevered pitch, sylus steps into the ring, the picture of coiled power and raw aggression. his opponent, a hulking brute known as ‘the mauler’, glares at him from across the mat, pounding his meaty fists together in a show of intimidation. but sylus just smirks, unfazed. he’s taken down bigger, badder fighters than this guy.

the referee calls them to the center, going over the rules - not that there are many in the underground circuit. “no biting, no eye gouging, fight ends with a knockout or tapout. keep it clean . . ish. touch gloves and come out swinging!”

sylus bumps his taped fists against the mauler’s, staring him down with those intense red eyes. then they’re backing away, the air crackling with tension as the crowd falls silent in anticipation.

the bell sounds and the mauler charges forward with a roar, swinging wildly. but sylus is too quick, too skilled. he slips and weaves, dodging the heavy blows, letting his opponent overextend himself. sylus fires off a rapid jab - cross combo, snapping the mauler’s head back and drawing first blood from his nose.

the big man snarls and redoubles his efforts, trying to use his size to his advantage, to trap sylus against the ropes and pummel him. but sylus is like smoke, always just out of reach. he targets the mauler’s weak spots with surgical precision - a knife-hand to the solar plexus to crush his wind, a heel kick to the floating rib, an elbow smash to the jaw.

each blow lands with devastating impact, chipping away at the mauler’s formidable stamina and sending the crowd into a frenzy. they chant sylus’s name like a war cry, thrilling at the sight of the chiseled, tattooed demigod of the ring in his element.

you watch in breathless awe, pulse racing, body heating. damn him. he’s magnificent like this - a perfect fighting machine, all fluid grace and controlled violence. it’s enough to make you forget why you walked away, to let yourself imagine those powerful hands on your body once more . .

a pained grunt snaps you back to the moment as the mauler finally lands a solid hit, a haymaker to sylus’s ribs that sends him staggering. your heart leaps into your throat. but sylus just shakes it off with a feral grin, spitting blood and bouncing on his toes as he beckons for more.

they trade blows in a brutal, lightning-fast exchange, neither giving quarter. the mauler is flagging but still dangerous, pure grit keeping him on his feet. sylus bleeds from a cut over his eye but barely seems to feel it, an unholy light in his gaze as he scents victory.

he presses his advantage with a dizzying flurry of strikes, driving the mauler back . . back . . until he’s pinned against the turnbuckle. sylus hammers his torso without mercy - left hook to the liver, right uppercut to the chin, again, again. the mauler’s knees buckle and sylus steps back, letting him crumple to the canvas.

the crowd erupts as the ref counts it out. at “ten,” sylus throws his hands up in triumph, basking in the adulation. his eyes find yours across the room and the heat in them makes your breath stop. in three long strides he’s out of the ring and hauling you into his arms, crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

for a moment, you forget where you are. forget the mob of rowdy spectators whistling and catcalling. forget every reason you swore you'd never let him back into your heart. all you know is the demanding press of his lips, the steel - cable strength of his blood-slicked body, the intoxicating rush of his victory and your surrender . . .

“looks like i won our bet, babe,” he says smugly, smirking down at you. “hope you’re ready to pay up.”

you scowl, hating how easily he affected you. “one. drink. that was the deal.”

sylus touches his tongue to the seam of his split lip, gaze roving hungrily over you. “oh, i’m just getting started.”

he drags you through the throng of well-wishers and sycophants, his grip on your hand unbreakable. outside, the night air is cool against your overheated skin, charged with tension and the distant growl of engines.

sylus leads you to his pride and joy - that sleek demon of a harley crouched by the curb. the way he straddles the throbbing machine is blatantly sexual, all hard muscles and black leather. he jerks his head at the space behind him.

“c’mon - you know the drill, hop on.”

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

your hesitation lasts a mere heartbeat before you throw a leg over the bike and wrap your arms around his waist, molding yourself to his back. the rumble of the engine between your thighs and the furnace heat of his body shreds the last of your resistance.

then, sylus kicks off and you’re flying, the city lights a neon blur as he opens the throttle. your pulse pounds in time with the roar of the pipes, excitement and desire a heady drug in your veins. by the time he screeches to a stop outside a dingy saloon on the outskirts of town, you’re dizzy with need.

inside, the bar is a den of sin and swagger, all scuffed leather and polished chrome and clinking bottles. eyes follow sylus with a mix of fear and reverence as he stalks to a booth in the back, one possessive hand at the small of your back.

he orders a whiskey, neat, and your favorite poison, not bothering to ask what you want. at your raised eyebrow, he shrugs.

“i remember.”

two words. but the weight of history and unspoken emotion behind them squeezes your heart. your fingers tremble slightly as you raise your glass in a mock toast.

“to your victory. and my reckless wager.”

sylus’ gaze is molten as he clinks his tumbler against yours, gaze holding you captive over the rim as he tosses back the smooth liquid. the slight burn of the alcohol is nothing compared to the smolder of his stare.

“what are we doing, sy?” you ask into the charged quiet, liquid courage loosening your tongue. “why now, after all this time?”

a muscle ticks in his jaw. he looks down, spinning his empty glass, broad shoulders rigid with tension.

“i fucked up.”

his voice is low, raw with a vulnerability you've never heard from him. your breath snags.

“i thought i needed the rush, the rep, the respect. and yeah, maybe i did, for a while. but none of it meant shit without you.” slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he reaches for your hand — lacing his scarred, tape-wrapped fingers with yours, “i was a coward. i pushed you away because i was scared shitless of how bad i wanted you - needed you. needed your strength, your goodness. you made me want to be better. and it truly fucking terrified me.”

his grip tightens, almost painfully. anchoring you to him.

“losing you . . it broke me, [★]. made me realize that the only thing i’m actually afraid of is living without you.”

sylus swallows hard, his throat working. when he looks up at you, his eyes are blazing with fierce intent.

“i know i don’t deserve another shot. i know i need to earn back your trust. but i swear to whoever may hold my fate, if you give me a chance, i will spend every waking day proving that you’re my whole damn world.”

your heart is a wild bird in your chest, frantic and yearning. you search his face, finding only sincerity and aching tenderness beneath the bruises and blood.

“i never stopped loving you,” you confess, voice breaking. “no matter how hard i tried to hate you . . i couldn’t let you go.”

sylus makes a rough sound, halfway between a growl and a groan. then he’s kissing you, deep and urgent and saying everything he can't put into words. you fall into him, all hunger and desperation, the levee finally breaking on the flood of your need.

“take me home,” you gasp into his mouth, fingers curling in the sweat-damp silk of his hair.

“i thought you’d never ask, dove.”

the anticipation is a living thing as sylus speeds through the lamp-lit streets, the throaty growl of his harley between your thighs a heady reminder of the man commanding the machine. by the time he pulls into the cavernous garage beneath his loft, your body is humming, every nerve ending alight with need.

sylus is on you the moment you dismount, crowding you back against the rough brick wall, his large frame enveloping yours. his kiss is searing, possession and passion, strong hands gripping your hips as he grinds into you. you moan into his mouth, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his leather-clad shoulders, craving more.

“been dreaming about this,” he rasps against your lips, his voice like gravel and whiskey, igniting heat in your veins. “having you back in my arms, in my bed. fuck, [★], need you so bad it's like a sickness.”

“then take me,” you breathe, emboldened by the blatant hunger shining in those crimson eyes. “i’m here, sylus. i’m yours.”

something animalistic unfurls behind his gaze, a primal sort of satisfaction that has you clenching with want. in a burst of movement, he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his lean hips as he strides purposefully to the industrial elevator that will carry you to his domain.

the short ride up is a haze of frantic kisses and roving hands, two years’ worth of pent-up longing seeking outlet. by the time sylus kicks open the door to his loft, you’re both panting, clothes askew and lips kiss-bruised. he carries you straight to the bedroom, a cavern of shadows and silver moonlight spilling across rumpled black silk sheets. when he lays you down in the center of that decadent expanse, the reverence in his touch steals your breath. his battle-scarred fingers shake slightly as they skim over your curves, learning you anew.

“so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, crimson gaze tracking hungrily over your body like he's committing every detail to memory. “can’t believe i almost lost this . . lost you . .”

“never,” you whisper fiercely, reaching up to cup his angular jaw. “i’m here, sylus. right where i belong. and i’m not going anywhere.”

he turns his head to press a fervent kiss to your palm, the heat of his breath making you shiver as his lips graze your fingers — and ever so gently, he bites. then slowly, deliberately, he divests you of your clothes, unwrapping you like a gift. you echo his actions, baring him inch by glorious inch to your avid gaze.

sylus’s body is a work of art, all chiseled muscle and inked skin, a roadmap of violence and survival. you take your time tracing the ridges and hollows, the scars and scrolling tattoos, familiarizing yourself with this new landscape of him. he shudders beneath your questing touch, eyes fluttering shut, a low rumble building in his chest.

“[★],” he grits out, and fuck, how you’ve missed the way he says your name, guttural and raw, like a prayer and a plea. “please, baby . . need to taste you.”

“yes,” you hiss, already aching, empty. “please, sylus.”

granted, he descends on you like a man starved, that talented mouth charting a path of fire over your sensitized flesh. he maps every curve and valley with lips and teeth and tongue, each nip and suck and lap stoking the inferno building in your core.

when he finally settles between your trembling thighs, the first bold stroke of his tongue punches the air from your lungs, your spine arching involuntarily. he groans in appreciation, strong hands splaying your thighs wider, opening you fully to his voracious appetite.

“fuck, i missed this,” he rasps against your slick folds, the vibration of his words making you keen. “missed the way you taste, the sounds you make when i devour this sweet cunt. could feast on you for hours, little one . .”

you whimper breathlessly, one hand fisting in the sheets, the other tangling in his silver hair, holding him to you. sylus takes the encouragement for what it is, sealing his mouth over your aching flesh and suckling greedily. stars erupt in your eyes, pleasure rioting through your veins as he works you ruthlessly, adding clever fingers to his oral assault. he curls them just right, rubbing that secret spot that has you seeing god, all while his wicked tongue paints obscene promises on your clit.

“s-sy, fuck!” you wail, back bowing, thighs clamping around his ears as he drives you higher and higher. “oh god, yes, just like that! don’t stop, please, i’m gonna’ cum . . fuck, baby-”

he doubles his efforts, a man possessed, growling his own pleasure into your core. “that’s it, my love,” he urges gutturally between long, lewd licks. “go ahead and give it to me, wanna’ feel you drench my face, want you gushing on my tongue . .”

his filthy encouragement hurls you over the edge with a strangled scream, release slamming into you like a freight train. you shatter spectacularly, pulsing and clenching around his thrusting fingers, slick gushing into his eager mouth as he works you through the most intense orgasm of your life.

when you finally drift back down to earth, aftershocks still rippling through you, sylus is grinning up at you wolfishly from between your thighs, his beard glistening obscenely with your essence. “fucking incredible,” he rumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your still-twitching center. “could watch you fall apart on my tongue forever and never get tired of it.”

“get up here,” you demand breathlessly, tugging him to you. he comes willingly, settling his considerable bulk over you, caging you beneath miles of warm, hard muscle.

you claim his mouth in a filthy kiss, moaning at the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. he responds with matching hunger, hips rocking into the cradle of your thighs, the thick ridge of his erection a brand against your sensitive flesh.

“please,” you whimper into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “need you inside me, sylus. been too long, i want it . .”

“fuck,” he snarls, the words seeming to snap his restraint. “far too long, honey. be patient, you know i will.” slowly, giving you time to adjust, he notches himself at your entrance and pushes forward, gasping harshly at the tight, wet heat of you enveloping him. “goddamn,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forehead pressed to yours. “silly me. i almost forgot how fucking perfect you feel. like coming home.”

“yes,” you moan, reveling in the familiar stretch and burn of his thick length entering your body. “missed this so much . . missed you . . love you, sylus, so fucking much.”

“i love you too,” he rasps, pulling nearly all the way out before surging back in, starting a deep, rolling rhythm that has your toes curling. “i never stopped, never will. you’re only for me, [★]. only me.”

you lose yourselves to the timeless dance, bodies moving in perfect synchronicity, rediscovering every perfect angle and hidden sweet spot. sylus takes his time, building you back up with long, measured strokes, whispering words of worship into your skin, branding you with his love.

“so good,” he groans, hitching your leg higher on his hip, sinking impossibly deeper. “could stay buried in this tight little pussy forever. never wanna leave.”

“don’t.” you gasp, fingers clawing at his flexing back, desperate for more. “stay — harder, sylus, fuck me harder. wanna’ be able to feel it tomorrow.”

with a low, approving growl, sylus complies, snapping his hips faster, driving into your yielding body with the piston precision of the machine he rides. the wet, obscene slap of flesh fills the room, punctuated by your escalating moans and cries.

“i’m not gonna last,” he warns, rhythm faltering. “too good, too fucking good. tell me you’re close, baby . .”

“s-so close,” you pant, the coil in your belly wound to the breaking point. “just a little more - fuck, right there, sy . . o-oh my —”

sylus hammers into you, grunting with the effort, sweat sheening his skin. he wedges a hand between your straining bodies, finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. “cum on my cock,” he demands, voice strained. “let me feel that pussy grip me, milk me . .” his words are your undoing, hurling you into oblivion with a keening wail. your inner muscles seize around him, rippling and fluttering, trying to pull him deeper as you drench his driving length in release.

“fuck, yes!” sylus roars, pistoning wildly, chasing his own end. “gonna’ - ah, shit, kitty, i’m cumming!” his climax overtakes him with a force that borders on violence, his cock jerking and pulsing as he spills himself deep in your still-spasming core, painting your inner walls with thick ropes of his seed. you mewl weakly in blissed-out overstimulation, aftershocks rolling through you as he fills you to the brim.

finally spent, sylus collapses onto you, taking care not to crush you with his bulk. you cuddle as sweat and other fluids cool on your skin, hearts gradually slowing in tandem. he’s still stuffed deep inside you and you clench involuntarily around his now-softening length, loving the way he groans, overused nerves sparking. “keep that up and we’ll be going again real soon,” he warns playfully, nuzzling into your neck.

you huff a laugh, carding your fingers through his damp hair. “yeah, yeah,” you tease. “we’ve got time now, sylus. all the time in the world. i’m not going anywhere.”

he raises his head to look at you, crimson eyes soft and full of wonder. “damn right you’re not,” he rumbles, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “i’m never letting you out of my sight again. you’re stuck with me now, sweetheart.”

“eh, could be worse,” you quip, grinning up at him. “i think i can handle being stuck with you. it’s only forever, after all.”

“forever,” sylus echoes solemnly, like an oath. “i like the sound of that. you and me. binded as one.”

“ . . . and loving each other stupid every chance we get,” you finish impishly, wiggling your eyebrows.

he barks a laugh, the joyful, uninhibited sound making your heart soar. “oh, that is definitely part of the plan,” he assures you, a wicked gleam in his eye. “gotta’ make up for lost time, don’t we?”

“mmhm, that we do,” you agree readily, warmth suffusing you. “better get started on that. forever’s not getting any longer.”

“as my lady commands,” sylus murmurs, capturing your mouth again as he begins to stir inside you once more.

and as passion ignites anew, the promise of countless tomorrows enfolding you like a benediction, you know this is just the beginning of the ups and downs.

because this love, tempered by loss and longing, by time and truth . . it’s unbreakable. a bond that even the harshest trials will only serve to strengthen.

and with sylus by your side, his heart in your keeping as surely as yours rests in his scarred and steady hands . .

. . you know you can weather any storm.

forever, and then some.

★ SUGUGASM 2024 | please don’t copy, translate or share my work on other platforms without my consent. tagging @ramonathinks <3

[missaengg]

Falling for the Head of Onychinus

Day 8 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptations hosted by @xxsycamore Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Sylus x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, some fluff, car sex, hand jobs, semi-public sex, penis in vagina sex, alternate universe, not edited in the slightest... Prompts: Sex in a Vehicle | “Look at you, you're taking it so well.” A/N: OMG THIS TURNED OUT WAY LONGER THAN I EXPECTED, BUT I JUUUUST MADE IT FOR DAY 8!! 🙃 ao3 link here.

God, it was wrong. It was so wrong. You knew it was wrong. He was the head of Onychinus, the biggest crime syndicate in the N109 Zone, and you were a Hunter, sworn to uphold the law and bring him to justice. And yet… despite knowing how fucked you would be if The Hunter’s Association knew, you would find yourself once again in his bed or in a changing room or in a dark, seedy back alley or in his car moaning without abandon, writhing on his taut, muscular body with him deep inside of you. Because fuck, his touch did something to you. One look of that animalistic lust in his crimson eyes, and you melted into a pool of fervent heat practically begging for him to devour you until you were exhausted and spent.

Each and every time after you dragged your sinfully brutalized body back home, you would vow that would be the last time. Never again. Your resolve only lasting until he came around the next time.

Or so it was, until you realized you hadn’t seen a glimpse, not even a hint, of the infuriatingly arrogant crime lord in weeks though it felt like months. He had this annoying stalkerish tendency, and when he wasn’t within your direct view, you swore you would catch a glimpse of silver hair or hear the fluttering of a crow’s wings or catch the tail end of a sport motorcycle zooming off around the corner.

Nothing.

For weeks, nothing. Not a single silvery wisp. Not a single caw. Not the rumble of his bike. Not even when you were in his territory, patrolling the N109 Zone.

It was unlike him, and you were perturbed.

You had gotten used to looking for hints of his presence, used to catching tiny signs of him in the peripherals of your eyes, and just when you were starting to get restless, he would appear before you, with his smug smirk and sexy nonchalance, leaving you weak in the knees and shivering.

You checked the date on your phone, frowning once you calculated how long it’d actually been since you last saw the man, Sylus, how long it’d been since he had you bent over a grimy sink in the bathroom of a dingy club he found you in for Tara’s birthday, pushing your head against the foggy mirror and furiously thrusting into your mewling, sopping cunt.

One month. It had been one month and ten days since you last saw him, the longest it had been since he discovered you in the N109 Zone hunting him.

It occurred to you that you might actually miss him, or rather your body missed his delicious touch. After his absence, in the first week, you noticed a peculiar restlessness, a light stirring deep within your lower belly, a flutter of anxiety. In the second week, you felt a disconcerting thirst, a thirst that couldn’t be satiated no matter how many times you stroked yourself or slipped a few fingers inside. In the third week, you developed an aching throb between your legs, painful and distracting and only in want of release. In the fourth week, you found yourself occupied with thoughts of only one man, Sylus, dreaming about coming undone around his thick cock and waking up to a damp mess underneath. All to where you were now, feral and in heat, perpetually dripping, desperate for him to relieve you of this consuming obsession.

He was your addiction. And you were in withdrawal, frantically seeking your fix.

“Fucking bastard,” you huffed to yourself, still staring at your phone in the middle of sidewalk by a busy street within Linkon. “Stupid fucking bastard.”

“Who’s a stupid fucking bastard?”

You recognized that deep, silky voice. You’d recognize that deep, silky voice anywhere. You looked up from your phone to see Sylus lounging in an aggressive sports car, a Lamborghini Revuelto, stupidly expensive and powerful and luxurious and just like him.

“I thought I told you not to come around again,” you scowled, crossing your arms, hiding that you were in fact ecstatic he finally showed.

“That’s not what your body’s telling me, kitten,” Sylus smirked, his smug gaze salaciously trailing from your face to your thighs.

You looked down, cursing under breath at how firmly your thighs were clenched together. When did that happen? But good god, was that voice doing things to you. A blistering inferno was raging in your core threatening to overwhelm you in its desire to consume you whole. You could only hope your cheeks weren’t the same blazing furious shade of red as your needy cunt.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmhmm.”

You stared at him defiantly, arms crossed, chin raised, waiting to see who would buckle first because it wouldn’t be you. It couldn’t be you.

“Are you going to get in the car or not?”

“No.”

“Are you sure about that?” he purred silkenly, a seductive mischievous gleam in his eyes, as if he were confident that you would ultimately end up in his bed that night.

No, you weren’t sure about that. You weren’t sure about that at all. You swallowed thickly, knowing it was over the moment he trapped you with those damn magnetic eyes. Your resolve was crumbling as quickly as he showed up in front of you wanting nothing more than to have him whisk you away and have his filthy, depraved way with you.

“I’m sure,” you hoarsely spit out, convincing no one, not even yourself.

Sylus said nothing. He simply sat there drumming his fingers on his leather steering wheel peering at you curiously with what appeared to be displeasure on his brow. You stubbornly stared back, feeling the seconds click away. A stalemate.

Finally, he clicked his tongue.. “Alright then, kitten. Another time then.” The car roared back to life.

You bit your lip, chewing on the soft flesh inside your lip. He couldn’t just leave, not like this, not after he disappeared for weeks leaving you a tight pretzel of a woman, but you also didn’t want to lose. Not again. The brake lights came on, a sign he’s shifted the car from ‘P’, and as he revved the engine–

“Wait!”

The revving stopped. Sylus, still facing forward, angled his head so he could peek at you.

“Why’d you disappear?”

Silence. You licked your lips and tried again.

“You were gone for over five weeks. Where were you?”

You watched Sylus with bated breath, heart pounding like a drum in your chest. His face betrayed nothing, not a hint of what he was feeling, what he was thinking.

Then a corner of his mouth curled up into a sly, cheeky smirk. There was a dark amusement dancing in his eyes, the force of which was rolling off of him in thick, heavy waves.

“Did you miss me?”

“No,” you whispered, more out of instinct, but also because you were loath to admit that you did miss him. You yearned for him more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Liar.”

Yes, you were.

“Get in the car, kitten.”

You hated it – and loved it – when he told you what to do, and he hated it – and loved it – when you refused to accede.

“Not… not until you tell me why you were gone for so long.”

Sylus huffed sharply. Your fists curled into fists, digging your fingernails into your palms in sharp mini lines of pain.

“I had to take care of business.”

“What kind of business?”

Sylus scowled, leveling his irritated glare on you. You forgot how intimidating the head of Onychinus could be, how ruthless the man who fucked you so tenderly could be.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“Sylus.”

A small, frustrated growl rumbled from Sylus who exhaled heavily, tapping the steering wheel with his pointer, and in an uncharacteristically subdued voice–

“I was injured, kitten.”

Something lurched in your heart when hearing his admission. Something about Sylus disappearing, about knowing he could potentially die on you someday unleashed an all-consuming fear you weren’t even aware you had. You blinked, surprised at the tears welling in your eyes, not enough to fall, but enough to display the dull ache that’s settled into your heart.

“Open the door.”

As soon as the door closed behind you, Sylus zoomed off in the direction of the illicit underground he called his home. You couldn’t keep your gaze off of him, scrutinizing his profile as if you were studying for an exam. He looked as he always did. There were no hints of scars or injuries. He wasn’t holding himself differently or hunched over in any kind of pain. Was it something mild if he recovered in five weeks?

“You should take a picture, kitten, it’ll last longer.”

Sylus still had that infuriating arrogant sneer on his face, but there was something a little more tender about the way he looked at you compared to the ravenous hunger from before. You looked out the window. It was dark and remote, one of the many abandoned roads on the way to the N109 Zone from Linkon City.

“Pull over,” you hoarsely commanded.

“Kitten?”

“Pull over,” you commanded once more forcefully.

Sylus wrinkled his brow in concern, but pulled the car off to the side, thankfully behind a grove of overgrown trees, not that it mattered. His car windows were tinted so dark no one would be able to see anything inside, especially at night.

“Turn off the engine.”

Sylus arched an eyebrow, but did as you asked without question. As soon as the car rumbled off, you were out of your seat, crawling into his lap the best you could despite the cramped interior, smashing your lips against him. Your tongue pressed urgently against him demanding entry, and when given, you wasted no time tasting him, exploring him with your tongue. Sylus hungrily pushed back, laying claim to your lips in a battle of dominating rapacious wills.

The seat fell back, and you squeaked as Sylus hauled you up like a ragdoll onto his lap. Once he had you settled and straddled across his hips, you dove back into fervently connecting your mouths in a dizzying torrent of kisses, losing yourself in the passionate flush of your bodies pressed together. His hands were in your hair, fingertips brushing your scalp as he threaded his fingers into knots, each brush a feverish tingle making its way down your spine and pooling into a slick arousal. Your fingers grasped blindly at his tailored, collared shirt, wrinkling the fabric with how hard you were gripping him. You wanted, no, needed him. You needed to feel the beating of his heart, the breath in his lungs, the warmth of his flesh. You needed to feel he was alive. You needed to fuck him.

Without separating, you began undoing the buttons of his shirt, fingers fumbling in your haste, the passion leaving your fingers clumsy and inept, struggling to pop the tiny plastic circles out of their buttonholes. You wondered if you should just rip the damn thing off of him, but then you had the fleeting thought that this shirt likely cost more than what you made in a single month.

“Let me.”

Sylus pulled his lips away and removed his hands from the tangled mess your hair had become, which you protested with a tiny whine, to do exactly what you considered, the heavy breathing filling the car interrupted by the clatter of flying buttons. Your eyes widened, the complete indifference of how easily he ruined his shirt spine-tingling arousing.

“Come here.”

Sylus guided you by the back of your head back down to meet him, this time capturing your lips with a softer, slower kiss, though it didn’t stay soft or slow for long, the intensity building back into a disorienting haze. His hands slipped under your sweater, leaving a trail of lingering fire as they roamed eventually finding their way to your breasts. You moaned into his mouth, his fingers pulling and pinching you sensitive. You ached for him, your slick arousal pooling in the apex of your legs. You ground yourself against the prominent erection in his pants, the friction of the fabric catching on his outline and dragging across your damp slit sending jolt after jolt of electricity up your back intensifying the pleasure you were drowning in.

“Fuck,” Sylus roughly grunted, the rocking of your hips against him chipping away at his composure.

Something inside of you snapped when Sylus grunted. You reached for his pants in a frenzy, undoing the button and yanking them down, whining when you couldn’t until Sylus lifted his hips up for you to free what you wanted, his throbbing cock. You abandoned your quest at pulling down his bottoms when you saw it spring free. Wrapping a hand around it, you thumbed the precum leaking out of his tip rubbing it on his frenulum, reveling in the sharp hiss he expelled at your teasing. You stroked him, slowly, sensually, gripping and releasing as you moved up and down.

“Kitten,” Sylus rasped, grasping your chin and planting a sloppy kiss. “Let me feel you.”

You kissed him back, nibbling along his bottom lip, absolutely tickled by the drunk, dazed look in his eyes, the way he was looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. Your chest was heaving, your breaths heavy with want. Hiking up your skirt, you pulled your underwear to the side, too impatient to contort yourself into a different position to pull them down. You rocked your slick pussy against his engorged cock, making sure your arousal coated him well, and it had to coat him well otherwise he wouldn’t be able to slide in due to his sheer size. Inhaling, you lowered yourself onto him, taking an inch of him at a time waiting to adjust to how deliciously he stretched you to your limits. Each inch sent Sylus groaning – shuddering, strangled groans, and when you finally bottomed out, the guttural grunt he uttered sent you keening, the combination of his pleasure mixed with your own sensation of being full having you see stars.

You moved gradually, gyrating against his pelvis, his pelvic mound stimulating your clit, his tip tapping your cervix just right. Sylus was gripping the sides of your hips, his large hands dwarfing your sides. His eyes were fixed on where you ended and he started, mesmerized by the way your cunt moved against him.

“Look at you, you’re taking it so well,” he breathed, voice thick with lust and desire.

He bit his lip, his eyes growing darker and darker with a savage glint. You’d seen that glint in his eyes before. It was always before he’d lose control, rutting into you as if he couldn’t get enough, when he’d let his carnal needs take over and claim you as his own.

“Fuck, kitten.”

He gripped you so tightly you let out a wanton cry, and you could only helplessly bounce on his lap when he took over, pummeling up into you fervidly, mewling cries falling off your lips as the sound of slapping skin filled the car. He was driving into you relentlessly, and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head, your mouth falling open into a sultry pout. He was driving into you so hard, you were sure your cervix was going to be bruised tomorrow morning, but you didn’t care, he was intoxicating. You were drunk off his cock, addicted to his cock, and no matter how many times he drilled into you, no matter how many times he brought you to climax, you knew you’d be back for another taste.

“Ngh… Sylus!”

You were close, so close. Your body was taut, every nerve on fire, the quiver of ecstasy building into a crescendo. Sylus nestled his head into your neck, licking and sucking on your tender skin, and then you reached the peak, shuddering uncontrollably, convulsing around him in a cacophony of dizzying bliss. You could barely see, riding the high of your climax while Sylus continued to rut into you rapidly, the feverish overstimulation rippling through you.

And then Sylus burst, his cock spasming in your warm pussy, flooding himself into you, spurts of his cum filling you with his warmth, all while calling your name in a throaty whisper in your ear.

Panting heavily, you slumped against his shoulder feeling his climax seeping out of you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, slick from sweat, and he planted soft kisses behind your ear, his other hand gently brushing back your hair, running his fingers through it to tame the mess he made.

You pushed off of him so that you were sitting upright, taking in every detail you could of his flushed, dazed face.

“Did you almost die?”

Sylus flinched, your question startling him out of his blissful reverie.

“Kitten, what do you mean?”

“When you said you got injured, did you almost die?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you asked the question, unsure if you were ready to hear the answer, heart pounding, brows knit together. Sylus gave you a lopsided grin, tenderly placing his hand on your cheek.

“No, kitten, I didn’t almost die.”

“Then why were you gone for weeks?”

You knew you sounded angry, but you weren’t angry, not really, or maybe you were a little. But more than that, you were worried. You were worried about the man you were supposed to be hunting, the man you weren’t ever supposed to fall for, the man who had the ability to derail your entire life in his hands.

“Because, kitten, I didn’t want you to worry.”

Your mouth dropped open. You expected a lot of things, but you didn’t expect that. Not that. Not that what you were sure was just animalistic fucking had turned into something else entirely, not just for you, but him as well. Not that the infamous head of Onychinus might actually care for you.

“That’s silly,” you muttered, a faint blush dusting your cheeks, averting your gaze from him.

“As silly as you worrying about me?” Sylus chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and tantalizingly through you.

You pouted, because it was, this whole thing was silly. You were a Hunter for god’s sake. This was unprofessional and wrong and fucked up and yet so deliciously wonderful and sinfully good and thrilling.

“I hate you.”

“I like you too.”

You sighed, annoyed, but that didn’t stop you from leaning down and snuggling back into his chest hearing his heartbeat in your ear, the sound soothing your anxiety. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to let go in his embrace. There was a lot you had to think about, but tonight… tonight all you wanted was to be in his arms in his bed.

Tomorrow. You would think about everything else tomorrow.