#this is the notorious leader of onychinus by the way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

janumun · 4 months ago

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A Relentless Conquest (LaDS Sylus - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 10.7k Pairing: Sylus/Reader

Tags: dueling (Sylus fighting), semi-public sex, oral and vaginal sex, Sylus’s brand of manhandling, dry humping, praising, dirty talk, rough sex, wander in wonder AU/historical AU, based in ancient Mongolia, creampie, size difference, mild rich/poor class power dynamics

Summary: What happens when you end up catching the unwanted attentions of a sleazy magistrate on a day out in town? A duel for your honor — or lifelong imprisonment — is what awaits you. That is, until Sylus, leader of the exceedingly notorious Onychinus gang, and a man you dub reluctantly, an old acquaintance, intervenes and offers the immoral magistrate a deal he cannot refuse.

[A fic where Sylus engages in a precarious duel in order to free you from the clutches of a corrupt high official; wins the duel AND the prize at stake, you.]

Author’s Notes: The things the Wander in Wonder trailer did to me were unspeakable, I had to get started on this fic right away. Another long monstrosity so it took me quite a while to hammer it out smoothly. Some terms used within, to note: *tögrögs is an old Mongolian currency and *Lungtang is the Mongolian city used loosely within this fic’s setting, as per Sylus’s alleged outfit inspiration drawn from the Mongol’s hunting fit in the current event, “Wander in Wonder” . An amazing twitter thread for the rest of the inspirations drawn for the boys’ outfits can be found here.

Link to Ao3

Perhaps you should’ve considered your course of action through before you’d tossed yourself voluntarily into the metaphorical den of lions. Caleb did always tease you for your often impudent ways, declaring you’d get yourself into hot water someday.

You didn’t quite think past saving the small, unfortunate child in front, when he’d careened straight into the Magistrate, staining the sickly bone white of his gaudy robes with the treat he’d been brandishing in hand. An action of careless innocence that could’ve saddled the boy with a severe punishment of thrashings at best. And at worst —

You didn’t even wish to entertain the horrifying notion.

You whisper a quick note of warning to the trembling child in your arms before he’s nodding his assent, making a clean dash away from the Magistrate and his burly procession of hired cronies. They do not move to stop him; the official’s beady eyes sweeping cursory across his fleeing figure before he focuses upon you once more.

“Well then, speak up, girl. How do you plan on making up for the crimes of the filthy criminal you just let escape?” He leers at you, sending a frisson of disgust through your veins. “I do not mind much, provided you are able to compensate me in full.” He holds up two thick, swollen fingers. “two thousand tögrögs.” Your stomach revolts in near horror at the exorbitant price he names.

“Speak, lass, do you possess the means to compensate me?”

“...Apologies, Sire, I do not.”

The Magistrate clicks his tongue at you, as if that son of a cur had not already anticipated your answer; your garb alone giving away your status as a mere commoner while he stood, a tall, foolish braggart of a Magistrate, who’d been a constant source of worry amongst the townsfolk as of late. “What a pity. I guess we shall have to make you pay off with what you do have on person, shan’t we?”

His eyes rove down the length of your body in a manner greasy enough, it has your fingers itching to claw them out of his skull. Thoughts of the consequences of your actions extending to your family after — your grandmother and Caleb — are what stay your hands, firm by your side. You try and maintain that demure grace firm within your body instead.

“What else are we to do if she cannot pay for what she has cost me, yes?” The Magistrate flourishes his arms wide and turns, towards the crowd that has gathered to watch, setting the stage for his perverse demands. “An eye for an eye, an honor exchanged for honor; that is the Law of our Lungtang, is it not?”

None of the commonfolk dare to speak against the tyrant’s words, lest they make of themselves a new target to harass. And you do not blame them either, the burden of your reckless actions, yours to bear alone.

The man trundles forwards on heavy steps; the large, ugly stain left across his robes growing wider in your lowered line of sight before the expanse of his bloated, sweating hand fills your field of vision. The rings around his fingers, nearly engorging the base of them as he curls his hand about your jaw to heave your gaze up towards him.

The ugly, toad-like sweep of his tongue against the top row of black and gold teeth has a chill skittering down your spine. “You’re rather lovely, you know that?” He croaks in a low, creeping voice.

You bite harsh into your bottom lip to revolt against the bile that threatens to reflux past your throat and onto the bastard’s face. “What say you become my whore then, dearest? I’d treat you very...” A slimy slip of the hand down the expanse of your body, to settle at your hip. “ well . And if you please me, you could even climb the ranks and become first Mistress, you know?” You judder at the stench of his breath, nearly in your face now. Unable to help the revulsion he inspires in you and you know; the cur in front takes it for a show of abashed innocence, with the way his leer stretches wider across his face.

“I am far too plain and discourteous for a man of your stature, my lord. If there is anything else I could do for you in recompense, I would be more than delighted to offer my services.” The words uttered, sit sickly sweet on your tongue. “I have a good arm on me and can do any physical labor you may require of me.”

The rat makes a show of deliberating your words. “It’s a pity the only ‘physical labor’ I require of you lies within my bed, dear girl.”

You visibly recoil from his revolting touch at your arm; perhaps you aren’t able to quite keep your emotions from surfacing upon your face this time round as the man grabs at your forearm tighter, gaze darkening in simmering displeasure.

“You know the law, woman. If you wish to run scot-free without offering anything in return, you must put your life on the line and agree to a duel with the offended party.” He chucks a thick, swollen thumb back at his minions, voice seething into a threatening octave. “And I wouldn’t suggest that unless you want them to crush that pretty face of yours.”

You consider ending it all; cutting the bastard open for him to choke in a pool of his own gurgling blood. You think you could do it too, before his bodyguards could get to you.

And with the loss of their Master, they wouldn’t be able to hold you prisoner within the dungeons for too long: you hoped. The stray, wild thought is all you can see within your vision.

Your hand twitches for the dagger fastened right beneath your satchel, one Caleb had lent you for protection. Fingers barely grazing against the polished hilt of the blade, cobbling together courage to see your mad plan through.

Before large, thick digits are slipping against yours to halt — a fleeting touch of caution — from behind, fracturing your hasty plan entirely.

You’re barely able to comprehend the sudden, unnoticed proximity of your interloper, before a great arm is coiling fast about the expanse of your waist, snatching you swift from the Magistrate’s claws and firm against a warm, broad chest.

“Now, what have you gotten yourself into this time?” The well-known burr, welcome, in that moment stirs joy within your belly as you reach to crane your neck to meet eyes with that familiar scarlet.

“Sylus.” You croak in near disbelief.

He exhales, low, against the shell of your ear, before he slowly lets go of you. “I’m away from Lungtang for a mere fortnight, only to find you scrounging for trouble, upon return.”

Your irritation might’ve flared at his words if not for the phlegmy clearing of the Magistrate’s throat in front.

“And who do you think you are to touch my property so carelessly, insolent fool?”

Your ire directed from the man behind to the bastard in front. You feel Sylus’ hand soothe a flex about your shoulder.

“My bad, honoured Magistrate.” He sweeps an insouciant palm at him, the grin upon his face edged to a dagger’s point. “We did not think you would be gracing Lungtang so soon with your noble presence. Or we might’ve arranged for a far better reception, for your Grace.”

Each word that slips past Sylus’ lips is a sarcasm heavy barb that turns the official’s face in front purple with each syllable uttered. “That woman owes me, you dog. I shall make her my mistress, as is only fair I extract proper recompense from her for her grave offense.”

One of the Magistrate’s men behind scamper forward in that moment to whisper urgently into his ear. The official’s eyes nearly burst out of his sockets at whatever he’s learned, wide toady gaze skittering towards Sylus as if he is indeed a rabid beast that would bite if disturbed.

He thrusts an accusatory finger at him. “You are the Onychinus’ leader.” He spits. “That gang of lawless hounds.”

Sylus’s mouth quirk into a vicious smile at the allegation. “That I am.”

“You— you,” The Magistrate seems to sputter for the space of several moments before the man at his side mutters something else into his ear.

The official straightens at whatever he’s heard, clearing his throat, once. Twice. “I am willing to pardon your crimes.” He begins once more. “Provided you can prove yourself worthy in a duel against one of my men.” The crowd around you breaks into quiet murmurs. “But,” he continues. “if you lose, Onychinus dog, then along with your little woman, you shall give up your life to my service, your autonomous tyranny within these lands shall cease to exist and you shall follow my sole command.” He pauses for a moment’s breath, as if to let the weight of what he believes to have been a devastating challenge, sink in.

But all he earns from Sylus is a raised brow. “Sounds like a deal. Let us raise the stakes, though, shall we?” He cocks his head at the procession of guards right behind the Magistrate. “I’ll take on all your men, not just your best. Give you a real crutch to get started with.”

The crowd of onlookers erupts into gasps of surprise and gibbering discussion amidst the concerning blue coloring the Magistrate’s face at the taunt. You desperately clutch at Sylus’s arm. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He meets your wide-eyed panicked gaze with a cool, gentle one of his own. “Calm yourself down, kitten. I’ll be fine.” A large hand, he places gentle at your head in reassurance but all it does instead is send your alarm flaring higher.

What had you roped the man into? Infuriating though he was. Sylus was a confounding acquaintance of years; you could not help be lured into irritation any time he were around — a man whose companionship you’d come to cherish in begrudging gratitude over your time together — but this is not what you’d wanted.

Your reeling thoughts fractured by the screeching Magistrate in front. “You think you’re all that, you shameless scoundrel? Oh, you’re just a man and I’ll make sure they break your limbs, bone by excruciating bone, before we drag you bloodied and defeated, to my estate.” He spits the time of the duel to be held tomorrow in that same fury before he’s turning on you both and trudging back off to where he came from, his procession of cronies falling along right in line.

And you’re left behind, with the metallic poison of your regret within your mouth and bone deep worry within your body as you stare up at Sylus’s form.

The next day arrives much too soon, even as sleep evades you through the entirety of your night, spent tossing onto much too warm sheets.

Now, having dragged yourself to dress and prepare yourself for the dreaded day, you trudge out of your home, chancing a brief, longing look upon the humble place over your shoulder, in case it were truly your last.

You hadn’t divulged the details of your itinerary for the day — which possibly entailed getting sold into slavery to a sleazy official, by the time noon rolled in — to Grandmother or Caleb and you preferred it remain that way for as long as possible. Your Grandmother was coming along in her years, with weakened nerves now and Caleb tended to be a frightful worrywart in matters concerning you.

“Someone’s starting the day rather early. That eager to see me fight, are you, kitten?” The familiar voice beckons. You toss a raised brow over your shoulder at your previously truant neighbour, now returned — his house having settled long vacant in his absence, over the course of his journey to Gods knew where. And the root cause of all your fretting; Sylus moves to join you by your side in two easy strides.

“Don’t you even dare try joke about it, you absolute madman,” you mutter darkly under your breath, reaching to knock a fist against the side of his torso.

The same old routine you tumble into, with him; you aren’t able to tamp yourself back from biting into the man as soon as he’s in your sights; the only person capable of wrenching out your honest, most reflexive reactions. And you hate the ease with which this incendiary of a man manages to drag them out of you.

“What took over you to throw that offer out at that bastard, when you all but had a nice, even playing field to yourself? Now you’re just—” Your mouth snaps shut against the rest of your words, bitterly swallowed.

How did you even begin to disentangle your bunched feelings on the matter? You knew how all of Lungtang chanted the tales of the fearsome Onychinus head. A conundrum of a man with a reputation as daunting as his influential mien, one that never failed to instil the fear of God in lesser men; criminals and bandits, who sought to rob their small town on the rare luckless occasion — dubbed this obscure town’s own Warrior God.

But to you, he was also just Sylus; the man you’d grown in close proximity to since your late teenage years and a person you’d grown to care for in the natural course of your odd tug-and-push relationship.

And though you remained constantly wary of the type of people Sylus associated with, in his particular line of work — a job you did not wish for, to bring even a modicum of harm onto your family by association with him, you could not help the restless agitation that needled at you each time Sylus left home, sometimes for weeks on end, on any number of his covert expeditions.

And each time he did, the very nagging, unwelcome thought intruded, that perhaps this time he might not make it home.

“Are you worried for me right now, kitten?” Sylus’s airy query breaks through your reverie, your gaze leaping to find his, fixated firm on you. Those scarlet eyes seem to lose part of their mirth at the face you’re sure you’re pulling.

You tear your gaze away first, choosing to watch the path you two trek on, instead. “Of course, I’m worried. What a silly thing to ask.” A muted wisp of words.

Ones that spark an immediate stroke of mild discomfiture at the admission; you prattle on before he can speak. “I know you’re strong, I know that. But just you against what — 13 or 14 grown men? More if that bastard intends on killing you. Anyone with half a wit and eye can see it’s a self-slaughtering mission from yards away. I don’t understand—” your indignant voice breaks, to throttle in much needed air into breath parched lungs. “I just don’t understand why you’d do that. I don’t understand you.”

Help me figure out what you’re thinking; are the words you wish to speak but your voice refuses to assist.

Sylus hums a low, throaty sound; in admission that he’s heard you.

And then he opens his mouth to speak. Divulging a ‘reason’ that makes no sense to your muddled mind, simple though his words are. “That cad disrespected you.” Garnet tips your way to meet your surprised gaze. “That’s reason enough, is it not?”

“I—”

“Don’t fret anymore.” he continues. “I won't lose, you have my word.” Long, tapered digits brush gentle at your temple, in reassurance of your worries. “And once I’m done with that weasel, he won’t ever be capable of crawling within a mile of you, let alone dare a finger your way again.”

The confession, sudden and honest, spurts warmth within your chest that readily clambers up your cheeks and floods down into your belly. A knot pulled tight within seeming to relax just that bit, in comfort of his words. Truly, he confounds you; this odd, beautiful man.

You capture his fingers against yours in an insistent hold, halting him in his tracks. “You better keep your promise to me, Sylus,” you speak, meeting his gaze, firm on yours. “Do not forget the prize that’s at stake here. You'll come out of there, victorious. I won’t afford you any other options, you hear me?”

A pleased grin edges across that beautiful mouth, skewing it wider. He angles forward, so that garnet gaze is level against yours. Flexing the catch of his digits in between yours before he’s sweeping your hand towards his parted mouth in a fleeting brush of lips against your knuckles. “If it is my victory the Lady commands, so it shall be done.” He elaborates, a mild tickled inflection to his thick baritone.

You disregard his little jibing use of the title for this one instance; his solemn promise you know he’s sealed to you; in the gentle grip of your fingers against his, garnet that refuses to stray until you see the resolve of his vow settle within that gaze too.

By the time your deliberately protracted journey finds its end at the arena, edging the outskirts of Lungtang, the Magistrate along with his chosen warriors are already there, positioned and waiting by the great stone pillars of the vast grounds.

The coming fight having attracted the townspeople to turn up in droves to watch the weaselly Magistrate take on their best warrior — hordes of curious eyes you feel boring into the two of you as you make your way towards where the Magistrate awaits.

“Here you are. Any later and I might’ve started considering you’d fled with your tail in between your legs.” The Magistrate crows out loud. “After all, my men shall soon prove how Lungtang’s criminal they so falsely worship as a hero, is more bark than bite.” The swarm of brutes — big and terrifyingly bulky — he’s brought along, laugh at their Master’s goading.

Sylus, however, remains unperturbed. “Is that so? I can’t wait to find out,” he responds, scrubbing an insouciant hand through his hair.

His apathetic response seems to key the Magistrate’s ire even higher, sputtering his rage at him. “Y-You absolute— you imbecile. I will crush you.” Creeping a hand forward for you now, “I’ll hold the girl with me. We might as well quicken ourselves, in preparation for when you inevitably fall and watch me claim my rightful prize.”

You steel yourself against the touch, palm rising to curb his approach with a polite denial but your companion is swifter; large hand darting forth to curl a harsh fist against the official’s greasy wrist.

“No.” Sylus speaks, voice a low, lethal burr you haven’t ever heard from him before. “I don’t think you will, Sire.” Whatever it is the foolish Magistrate discerns within your companion’s steady gaze, has him flinching in visible fright at the sight, sweat beading wide across his pale, swollen face.

He wrenches his wrist from Sylus’s grip, as if scathed just as you angle a curious look up at the Onychinus head; his face an impassive mask — hardly unusual — before it breaks into the tiny quirk of a self-assured grin when he catches you watching.

The Magistrate yelps in frustration, turning in on a ferocious heel. “D-Do not waste my time any longer than you have.” Barking the rest of his words; he heads toward the makeshift dais he’s had set up for himself at the edge of the ring. “Come onto the fields now so we can commence the match.”

“Sylus,” you place a hand at his arm to stall. “Duck down for a moment.”

He raises a careful brow at you and you think he’s going to refuse for a moment but then he surprises you in the wordless, compliant drop of his head close to yours. Allowing your eyes to trace his features; those familiar scarlet eyes steady against yours, the slope of his broad nose, sweeping into the bow of full, slightly scraped lips.

You realize you trust this man and what he’s offered you, whole-heartedly. And so, you wish to extend the same sentiment, reaching for the precious beads adorning your neck — an heirloom from your late parents, your most prized possession.

Plucking it up and over your head in between cautious digits before you reach to place it about his neck instead. Leaving part of your most priceless gift with him, just as you’ve decided to entrust him with both your Fates. “A charm,” you clarify, “for good luck. It has been my most invaluable escort and has kept me safe all these years.”

Sylus mutely treks delicate fingers across the worn beads of the chain, grasping it in between a loose fist, in acceptance of your faith.

“Return it to me once you’ve won.” You tell him, rapping a firm fist against the leather guard at his chest.

Large, warm digits move to curve about yours, gripping your fist against himself. “As if I could turn down such a heartfelt request, sweetheart.” A spirited grin tugs at his features. “I’ll bring your little treasure back to you in one piece.”

“Good, I’ll wait for it.” You respond. “Now, go out there and show them the might of our Warrior God.”

The Magistrate flourishes open an official scrolled document, no doubt detailing the terms of their duel as soon as Sylus shifts to take position within the field, on opposing side of the assembly of his hired goons.

You move to occupy a place up front, to stand among the vast gathered crowd, observing the proceedings as the Magistrate clutches the scroll up into the air and begins to drone out the conditions of the fight and the prize at stake — your belly stirs in nausea — you . “The duel shall be declared closed when all members of a party have been knocked unconscious; or killed, under the rare, unfortunate circumstance.” His beady eyes rove Sylus’s way. “Any objections?”

Sylus shrugs the question off entirely in the flex of an arm against his chest, in preparation of the duel. “Let us not waste our time debating inanity now, as you said earlier. Commence the fight.”

The Magistrate’s face colours a foul purple — you hope he may truly burst — but all he does is spew a cold, curt, “Begin.”

The arena hurtles into instantaneous chaos, along with the crowd’s rousing cheers and gasps of terrified delight as the Magistrate’s cronies hound Sylus all at once. Your body hunching forward on reflex to watch as the first set of blows streak straight for Sylus’s face but he ducks down with an agility, unusual to a man of his stature.

He catches two of the oncoming blows against his palms. Jamming his fists tight about their wrists before he contorts them sideways in a dull crackle of bone. The men immediately buckle to their knees in an agony of groans, their peers stepping over their fallen companions after, to grab for their opponent who springs out of their way, as if dancing the men around, with a noose placed about their grappling bodies.

A sharp jab comes right for Sylus’s side after, the crony tries and lands a hit against his ribs; the latter’s grasp flexing about his arm to break his momentum, wrenching him close into his body. Before Sylus jostles his elbow harsh into the man’s back.

Two men lunge for Sylus, aiming for his blind spot; your scraped call of warning lost amidst the thunderous din of the crowds as Sylus rounds upon his assailants. Grabbing the man he has on hand, fingers fisting tight into his garb before he hurls him onto the approaching minions, with a force violent enough, the three go bowling straight into the dirt.

The crowd’s cheer is raucous; wild as the grin that splits wide across Sylus’s face as he stretches his body tall to full length. “Come now, that’s surely not all of what you’ve got for me.” Sweat barely beginning to make itself known across the firm muscled expanse of his arms, his torso. He's hardly out of breath while his opponents gawk at him as if cornered against a rabid beast.

Your heart thrills in unexpected, startled pleasure to witness the strange, sensuous virility to his almost savage visage as he paces forward on swift, easy steps, within the ring.

You’d always known Sylus to hold a rich charisma compacted within that strong personality; an ability to entice all he came into contact with. A brilliant, perceptive mind along with that tacit, undeterred will; he’d brought flourishing business booming within Lungtang over his period of unofficial rule of the place. The uncrowned Onychinus King and a fearsome warrior; the first time you’d truly stood witness to what he was capable of, outside of devious negotiations, professional and unalike.

And to know, it was for you that he stood in that place now, socking down enemies with the streak of a great, terrifying beast that had your heart skittering within your chest and your blood thrumming within your ears, alongside the adrenaline roiling through your veins. He truly was an infuriatingly perfect man.

You joined your voice to the shouts of encouragement rolling off the townspeople, in waves for their Warrior God just as Sylus brings an opponent down to his knees with a violent sweep of his knee to his torso.

“Enough!” You hear the squeaked, enraged bellow of the Magistrate as he watches the proceedings with an increasingly incensed face. Whipping his reddening face towards the crowd to shake a threatening fist at them. “Quiet down before I have you all thrown into the dungeons!”

But the townsfolk refuse to relent; their cheers rising to a deafening roar as the Magistrate nearly tumbles out of his seat to thrust a trembling finger at the ring as Sylus tosses another of his men over his shoulder to taste the ground at his feet . The attendants at his side scamper towards the arena at once. A quick, urgent rush of communication seems to pass in between the attendants and Sylus’s remaining opponents. Before the servants are tossing weapons into the ring, ones the cronies lunge for as soon as they hit the field. Rising slow once more as they brandish their newly obtained unfair advantage at an unarmed Sylus.

A great wave of shock and indignance passes over the crowd just as you push past the row of onlookers to jostle yourself to the very front. “Hey! This was not among the rules!” You shout at the Magistrate. A sentiment the rest of the crowd joins you in mirroring but all it earns you is an insouciant shrug from the bastard, shedding any remaining responsibility of hosting a fair fight against Sylus. “And the rules didn’t indicate the participants were not allowed the use of tools at their disposal either. The opposing party’s principal should’ve brought his own if he wished for one, as well.”

“That’s not—” Your voice breaks in agonised distress just as the Magistrate turns away from you entirely to press his rotund body back into the comfort of his seat to watch his laid-out massacre once more. Son of a cur.

“Sylus!” You try and yell for his attention amongst the horrified cries of the crowd. “ Sylus, you don’t have to fight anymore! Get out of there, now! Sylus . ”

His gaze sweeps over the mass of spectators for that one split moment, as if foraging for yours. Until it seems to find and fixate upon you, his mouth forming slow shape over words you cannot hear but understand on instinct, “Stay right there.”

Your heart leaps and slams violent against the back of your breastbone with the crowd’s rising screams, just as a hefty brute lunges for Sylus; a battle axe heaved high above his head to strike a killing blow.

The first cleave of the blade, Sylus avoids, to the tumbling pummel of your frenzied nerves. The man’s fervent swings, he dodges left and right. Avoiding another enemy’s assault with a dagger aimed straight for his gut; Sylus streaks the side of his palm flat onto his wrist in a hit vicious enough, the knife goes flying out of his grasp to stick, hilt-up, useless onto the ground. Before Sylus pummels a heavy fist into the assailant’s face, plastering him down onto the ground.

The metallic chains of a flail come streaking for him, just as he side-steps past another heavy swing of the axe, catching the iron fetters of it harsh against his wrist. He ducks close into the enemy, manoeuvring the momentum of his attack into his own advantage, to wrench the man harsh into the fist he rams straight into his gut. Tumbling him sideways into the ground, unconscious.

The bulldozing axe wielding maniac, now in close proximity, careens straight for Sylus on a fervent bellow, sweeping a blow straight for his head. Sylus seizes his last standing opponent’s assault against the strength of a muscled forearm. Catching the brunt of the axe’s hilt at it before he shoves back on a ferocious, inhuman show of force.

Sylus, your heart hammers, lips forming shape over the syllables of his name in urgent prayer.

The momentum of the wide, stone blade pushed back in such violence, sends the wielder staggering back with the weight of it; Sylus turning that precious moment of weakness to his benefit as he lunges straight for his neck, seizing it within a thick fist. The core muscles of his arm, rippling with the force with which Sylus hauls him off his feet entirely to drive the man down onto the ground with a vicious snarl.

The combatant stops moving immediately, knocked out cold on the dirt; Sylus rising slow onto his feet as he stares at the man, chest heaving with the efforts of his strenuous exertion.

A grave’s quietude slumps across the gathered crowd for several, tense moments.

And then shatters into raucous chaos as the Conqueror of the duel is cheered to the high heavens; Sylus’s grin, wide and daunting, as he shifts off his fallen opponent, scrubbing a large hand back through sweat soaked locks as he starts ambling over toward the edge of your side of the arena.

And your heart — your silly little heart — soars from its place within your chest and out for him, the high of his victory, as if it were your own, throbbing brutal within your blood.

Before you know or comprehend it, your legs are moving; pushing past the crowds of onlookers, the wooden slates of your sandals skidding at dirt, as you fly across the ring toward Sylus. Your gaze entirely filled with your brilliant warrior’s expression shifting into surprise as you hurtle into him. And Sylus — that big, beautiful man understands — catches your careening body within his embrace; your momentum, he breaks against a half-swivel about his heel. Large, warm arms come tight about your body, wordless, without a question uttered, to seclude you further into that private space; just for you both in that moment.

Your arms stretching about the thick expanse of his neck as you hold on hard to him; Sylus’s low exhale you feel warm gently, into the crescent of your neck as he sinks into you. The people, his duel; none of it matter when you embrace him this close against you, the adrenaline of your unbound joy, his impressive triumph settling into your thundering heart, you feel pressed against him.

His soft, heavy laughter curls pleasant into your ears. “To the victor go the spoils, I guess.” He breathes. “Although this treasure seems particularly eager on jumping into my arms herself.”

“Of course I am.” You press yourself away from him enough to afford yourself a proper survey of his face. “Gods, you were brilliant. Thank you, Sylus.”

His thumb brushes just beneath your eye; a slow, testing touch. His gaze simmers in unusual, unexpected gentleness that siphons the breath from your lungs. “You need never thank me for anything, sweetheart, let alone this. I do not want it.”

Your own relief blooming into a smile, but before you can respond; an unpleasant, harsh voice fractures through the air — the Magistrate seething and raging as he makes his way over to you both, an army of guards right behind. Clearly, the man could not stomach a sore loss; rabid fire and venom within his gaze as he trudges toward you, screaming obscenities.

“Step back for a bit, kitten.” And you obey without further prompting, granting Sylus a wide berth for whatever he plans on doing.

He doesn’t spare a moment longer before he’s striding forward, snatching one of the Magistrate’s unconscious minions off the ground. Hoisting him high up by the scruff of his neck. The Magistrate’s steps stagger just then at Sylus’s mad display, perhaps sensing the disaster he’s called upon him.

But it’s far too late. “Here, have a present from all of Lungtang, Sire.” Sylus tows his arm back, wide, and aims — to the scurrying cries of the Magistrate — before he violently hurls the man in hand, right at the waddling official, bowling him and half his guards over like a stack of gambling plaques.

“Sylus.” You gasp at his insane spectacle.

Before the corrupt, toppled lot can even think to get their bearings back, Sylus is strolling back toward you; a quick flourish of a large hand thrown over his shoulder, in signal. “Take care of them,” he instructs out loud.

A swarm of dark clad men melt away, on his sole command, from the crowds, to pack around the Magistrate and his men, blotting their figures entirely out of your sight. “Come on.” Sylus’s voice fractures through your reverie, his frame crowding your field of vision.

“Whe— aah!” A hefty arm swoops beneath the back of your legs, sending frantic fingers scrabbling for purchase against the strength of Sylus’s shoulders as he hoists you up against his body. “What’re you doing?”

He flashes a devious grin up at you, completely at odds against the bewildered shock you know is wide across your face. “Time to get out of here, sweetheart,” is all he offers in response before he’s sweeping you away from the pandemonium he’s wrought and the boisterous crowd; discarding all of that well-earned glory behind.

The throng of on-goers tapers out the farther you get on to the road winding away from the arena; curious and awed looks alike garnered your way: at your position, and at the man — the infamous Onychinus head — who strolls easy through the streets of Lungtang, in possession of the strange woman he carries snug on the crook of an arm.

A flush creeping hot up your face the longer this spectacle goes on until Sylus’s pace — thank the Gods above — dwindles to a halt. “This should be far enough.”

“Yes, thank you. Put me down now.” Tapping fraught fingers against his shoulders in emphasis. Sylus raises a sculpted brow at you but relents, nonetheless. He steps past the mouth of the nearest back-street, well clear of people, before he helps you down onto your feet.

You lean a hand across his arm, taking a moment to scramble your bearings back.

“The brief walk back has you this out of breath, huh?” You turn a half-hearted frown at his mild ribbing; the man barely having broken a sweat himself, for having carried you all the way down here.

“I wasn’t the one who asked you to lug me the entire way, you know,” you return.

“What can I say, sweetheart? I’m rather protective of my treasures being made to rot too long among the grime.” He gently pinches your cheek in between thick, tapered digits; voice descending to a softer baritone. “And I won, as promised.” Long, tapered fingers skim heat across the angle of your cheekbone. “So, you’ll give me a pass this once, won’t you?”

Vivid scarlet flitters in inscrutable emotion to witness you cup careful palms about his own, as he touches you.

“You also pulled that insane stunt with that sleaze of a magistrate at the end there. I don’t know how you plan on getting out of that one,” you point out, but there is no actual heat to your accusation.

He exhales a half-laugh. “That’s probably long taken care of.” Stroking the fall of your hair back against your ear. “No one will come after you now.”

You step closer to him. “You do know I’m capable of worrying about you too, right? I’m not heartless.” His mouth quirks at your peeved admission. “...You’re important to me Sylus.”

A streak of something akin to surprise fulgurates for a moment’s notice within that garnet gaze, at your confession.

Your fingers trek a steady path against the painted beads of your necklace dangling at his chest. “Although I do hope you’ll never pull something like this on my behalf, ever again.” He'd brought it back to you, safe and unscathed, just as he’d said — a vow made, he had honoured.

Relief was still warm within your chest, along with the turbulence of long nursed vexing emotions, brought forth to the surface — for a man you’d known for almost half your life — by the day’s sequence of events. “I don’t think my heart could handle it.” You huff out a soft laugh.

An inscrutable emotion streaks across Sylus’s face, too quick to pick apart until it retreats entirely once more.

“Unfortunately for you,” long, tapered digits sweep about yours at his chest, capturing your hand steady within his grip. “that’s not a pledge I can offer you.” His whisper is low, throaty as it settles against you and you realize the sudden proximity of your positions.

His striking face is all that floods your vision. His gaze flickers from yours, down toward the bow of your parted lips — a remiss on his part, you can tell from how it rolls back swift to catch your eyes once more. If you did not know any better, you might’ve almost thought he meant to lean further and—

But was it really the mad conjuring of your mind and a reluctantly hopeful heart that wished to see what it thought it did? Or had you been this obtuse on purpose all along?

Your brow knits in consternation; this far removed from the persistent babbling of voices — your anxieties, the people, his duel, your uncertain fates at the time — and sequestered within the quiet alley; your roiling thoughts are loud and insistent.

“And why’s that, Sylus?” You ask quietly.

The skewed pull of his mouth is devastatingly beautiful even in its lack of mirth, this up close. “I think you know the answer to that, sweetheart. Or are you going to pretend otherwise?” His thumb strokes its gentle path across your knuckles — lighting an incendiary course — your hand still placed firm at his chest. “Whatever your choice, however, know it has always been yours to make.”

The muted, steady beats of his heart beneath your palm seem to thrum past the sensitive pads of your digits as they skim a line past his pectorals, and up your body, warming it from the inside out.

You swallow against the surge of a nervous fever that takes you all at once; ploughing past that pluck of anxiety at your chest, to bet your entirety on the one gamble you’re about to make.

“Come to think of it.” Pink tongue slinks past a mouth parched, to trek a slow path across your bottom lip, end to end; the intolerable burning intensity of Sylus’s scarlet gaze scouring each single motion, sending your light-headedness thrumming higher. “You haven’t truly won yet, have you, Sylus?”

“What?” He exhales heavily. His breathing has quickened just a snick higher, you notice, underneath your feathering ministrations. You’re fascinated by how he sounds much short of breath in this one instant than he did throughout the entirety of that match. The fact sending a deluge of warm pride and desire threading through your heart.

“A winner is only one when he has been crowned as such, and received his dues.” You clarify, shifting closer against him.

Stretching up on the balls of your feet until you’re a mere hair’s breadth from his face. “You however, have yet to claim your prize.” Sweeping forward until your lips are skimming against his in a tentative, testing brush of kiss — your hammering thoughts of uncertainty, of whether he wants this too, swiped clean with the soft, guttural choke of sound that slips past Sylus’s lips at your brazen initiative. And before you can bask under the simmering warmth of what that sound does to you, Sylus is curving a large palm firm within the thread of your locks, wrenching your mouth back against his in a bruising, fervid kiss.

Eager fingers skitter at the strength of his shoulders to ground yourself against the sudden, pleasurable onslaught just as he captures your waist within the ironed grip of an arm. Almost lifting you up entirely against him until you’re suspended barely at the tips of your toes.

His grunts are warm against the inside of your mouth as his tongue skims past the easy access of your parted lips to taste you against himself. The wet muscle sliding against yours before he sucks it into his own mouth on an approving groan of desire.

You're nearly nerveless by the time he parts from you on a wet stretch of sound, barely enough distance, his breath cascades hot against your damp lips with each guttural word, keying you higher. “This is getting a bit too dangerous, kitten. I suggest we stop here if you don’t wish to reach a point of no-return.”

“No. No,” Your hands flit in fervent frenzy from the stretch of his shoulders to bunch into the thick silver weave of his hair. “We don’t ever need to stop. I want this, I want you, if you do too.” Your mouth descending back against his in the dizzy crush of lips and tongue, Sylus’s groans of pleasure you drink down against your own moan.

“There hasn’t been a single moment where I haven’t desired you, sweetheart.” He whispers in harsh breaths into the pocket of space you allow him in between your kisses. “You’re the one who said it now. So, brace yourself.”

A hand you skim down the thick length of his neck, grazing at the base of his hair to support yourself against the large arms that cage your waist to lift until he’s driving you both back against the wall of the narrow alleyway, shrouding you deeper into shadows.

His kiss of gentle affection skids past the cut of your cheek, so at odds against the fierce brunt of his arousal you feel grinding into your belly. You buck against the touch just as Sylus eases you down, only enough you’re on your feet now; bodies still moulded tight against the shape of each other.

His mouth continues its work of feathering kisses across the curve of your cheek, down the delicate line of your jaw. His hips stroking against yours in gentle motions, sending the roll of his hard length against your stomach each time he guides you against himself, having you squirm in roiling pleasure, helpless against the insistence of his mouth and pelvis. Meeting his body with yours in the reflexive buck of your hips against his.

The elongated stretch of your skirt, sending a mild frisson of frustration through your nerves to feel the restriction of your movements against his. Groaning in soft defeat against Sylus’s mouth over yours, just as he cups a large hand about the angle of your pelvis. Caressing past the flare of your behind, rucking up the fabric within a tight fist to slide it, far too slow, up your legs.

A final brush of temporary farewell he kisses against your drenched lips before he descends, unhurried, down the length of your body; scarlet gaze refusing to relent from yours for even a single measured moment of mercy. A thick palm he traces, appreciative, down the curves of you as he pitches on to his knees.

Thumb warming its touch against the edge of a knee, your skirts bunched at the hand fastened about your leg as it caresses a slow, sensual path up higher. The glorious sight he is, down on his knees in between the willing split of your legs; undoing in its entirety — you shudder at the devastation he brings upon you when his fingers hone their target upon the cloth of your underwear at your hip. Skating a delicate path against the knot of it before his index slips underneath it to tug undone.

Wresting your underwear away entirely on his next sharp tug before he sweeps the mortifyingly damp cloth away from your body and under his nose for a long, obscene inhale. “You smell sweet, kitten. So much of this pretty nectar, all for me... I admit I’m more than a little flattered.” The skew of his devious smirk pulls wider at your choked sound of pleasure to witness him swipe your underwear down against his back, and pocket into the satchel at his belt.

“Sylus,” you reprimand half-heartedly, in distressed urgency.

“The victor takes it all, does he not? These are my spoils to have now, kitten.” His large palms are back at the skin of your legs, skimming a dizzying, scorching path up the quiver of your thighs. “Just as you are, the treasure I snatched for myself.”

“Let me indulge in my private feast, quietly now.” He baits in heated whispers, jaw falling open as he disappears in between the heavy folds of your skirt and — Heaven help you — the sound that scrapes raw past your throat to feel the tease of his broad tongue against your drenched slit, is unlike any you’ve ever heard before. The high-pitched squeal you cut off in the hasty wrench of your bottom lip into your mouth, heated desire clouding your swimming vision to tamp down your moans of arousal, lest any passers-by, just a few feet away from your shadowed alcove, spot the indecency of your display.

Thoughts drifting into emptiness — musing absent at how self-conscious you’d been while Sylus had carried you within his arms all the way out here; fully clothed then. And yet, here you were now, with your skirts bunched high up against your pelvis with that very same man’s wonderful tongue shoved deep inside you.

The hot pads of Sylus’s index and middle you feel skim against the tight bead of pleasure at your apex, just as the point of his tongue seeps in at your entrance, sending your hips stuttering into his steeled grip, fast at your pelvis.

You clamp a palm shut tight against your tapering moans, unable to smother them within yourself any longer. The heated plumes of your own breath crowding back against you with each shivered moan Sylus forces out of you.

His mouth brushes about the length of your folds, the bow of his upper lip bumping gentle at your tight bundle of nerves. Before he closes it within the searing heat of his mouth, sucking at your increasingly swollen flesh.

Sylus draws at the drenched slick of you like a man intent on devouring you whole, the thought drives your pleasure higher along with the rising euphoria bubbling within your body. A curious thumb parts your inner folds wider to admit the broad of his tongue deep into your slit. Your walls spasming against the breach of it as your hips judder down against the strength of his jaw.

“You’re close, aren’t you sweetheart? You can keep up a little longer.” His smothered encouragement, the vibrations of his thick voice right against your slit send you tumbling higher upon that precipice of sweet release.

The added, ruinous excitement of not being able to see him past the abundant frill of your skirts blazes you higher; the sole nervous anticipation of not knowing where he’d touch you next has you gushing on his tongue.

A low, soft curse you hear spill guttural against your folds, vibrating straight up into your womb, “You’re practically weeping on my tongue, sweetheart. I like that.” Your answering moan you bury into a bite of your sleeve as you fold your arm about your face; a full body quiver long having taken you. You no longer hold control over yourself. “Grind down on my face, relax yourself. Yes, there’s my good girl now.”

The praise having your walls grip hard at the fingers he’s worked into you now. Propelling them at an indolent, maddening pace into your depths.

“Sylus,” you pant harshly, mind numbing into a crescendo. “I don’t — hah — can’t — much longer.” Begging for a release so, so close at hand.

“Then don’t . Let yourself go.” His groans muted against the wet heat of you. “I’ll catch you when you fall.”

The crook of his middle and ring fingers up into you has you spasming against the intrusive stretch of them. Opening you up deeper; the deft pads of them scrounge up a spot against your frontal walls that has your mouth flying open on a silent scream, head falling back against the unyielding brick of the alley as your fluttering insides clamp down violent against his adroit handling of you. “Right here, is it?” You think you hear his muted whispers spill throaty against the sensitive expanse of your thigh.

Right at the junction of your hip as Sylus sinks a bite into the pliant flesh just as his thick fingers rub up against that same weak spot inside to have you disintegrating into senselessness right above him.

You can’t fathom how he’s brought you to such complete devastation in just a few, nimble strokes of his tongue and fingers into you, against you. Never having been dragged this fast or good to the precipice by your own hand, let alone another’s. He’s away each layer of defence, piece by excruciating piece, having worked you open so thoroughly as if he knew your body like his own.

Truly a man that sought relentless victory even in between the fall of your legs.

And it is only when that pleasure point is one keyed far too high, with the incessant press of his third finger up into your walls, stretching you open — so incredibly full of just his digits alone — does your body fall. No longer capable of protecting yourself against the battering deluge of a release so consuming, your knees buckle underneath the hefty intensity of his ministrations.

Sylus’s large hand, you feel warm about your rump, to curve its easy support about it, as he presses his face further into you. Waves upon waves of pleasure, drowning your keening cries against your well-abused bottom lip. A faint frisson of overstimulation stringing you higher to gain enough conscious thought back to catch his low, guttural growl searing harsh at your drenched folds, at the sensation of you gushing all over his tongue.

You quiver in nerveless arousal to feel the fleeting brush of his kiss farewell against your slit before he rises, slow, onto his feet once more. Your body clenches in on instinctual need to catch sight of his face once more. The slick that glimmers obscenely copious across his mouth and down the strength of his jaw, the untamed, almost bestial intensity to that barely tamped heat within scarlet, as Sylus sweeps a careful thumb against your wetness has you unfurling trembling digits forward to snag around his neck, dragging him down against yourself.

Consuming the ferocity of his kiss just as eagerly in the tongue you lap at his lips, slipping along the angle of his jaw; moaning softly at the taste of you that clings still to him. Restless fingers steal in between your bodies to reach for the arousal that strains delectable and intimidating against his trousers.

Flittering your digits about the catch of them as you work them open enough along with the thick fingers that aid you to release him free for your hungry gaze. Your audible gasp of pleasure Sylus captures against the pad of his thumb edging just past the part of your lips.

He’s incredibly blessed, bigger, girthier than any you’ve ever had before. The prospect of taking that thing inside your body simultaneously terrifies and excites you.

Your dazed musings Sylus fractures in the cup of your jaw in between firm, gentle digits. “Nervous?”

“...A bit,” you admit. Adding for good measure, “Nothing I can’t handle, though.” An expectant hand you move to curve about the breadth of him to make your point — fingers barely able to cup entirely about him.

Sylus’s laughter is a low, heavy burst of sound. “Don’t worry, kitten.” He reaches down to join his fingers against yours in languidly stroking the length of him. Coasting in close to your ear as he lays a kiss of dark, hoarse promise against it, “I’ll teach you to do more than just handle it.”

Your pleased moan you throttle against his quick, vehement kiss as Sylus gathers the folds of your skirt up to bunch about your hips. Fitting himself into the space he makes, his arousal glancing hot against your outer labia; feeling him so close to where your body clenches in on tense anticipation.

He withdraws from you on a wet slip of tongue, seizing your gaze within his. The firm fist he strokes at his length guiding the flared, slick head of him against your folds to lubricate in your wetness, bumping pleasant at your sensitive bead of nerves on each indolent stroke.

You buck your hips up against his in an impatient scratch of throaty sound. Slipping the head of him so close against your slit, it almost makes you dizzy with need.

You are not, however, prepared truly for the actual breach of him as he splits you open in pleasure so blinding, it streaks right against your tender bead and up deep into your belly. Sylus’s guttural groans brand hot against the crescent of your neck in overwhelmed desire, a muted swear swallowed into the bite of teeth he presses into it. “Relax yourself a little, kitten, you’ve gone too tight on me.”

You try, you truly do as you smother past your burning need to scream, for breaths to claw into your lungs; he feels too much, too good all at once, your body incapable of doing much else except accepting the slow propulsion of him deeper into your walls.

He feels almost too much for you to handle, spearing you open so far around him you didn’t even think yourself capable of such a feat. And yet, the copious arousal that slicks in between your bodies, with the voracious clench of your walls around the hard strength of him, sucking him inside, speaks volumes. Of how you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being impaled upon his length.

“More,” you pant; the slow thrusts of his hips up into yours sending your lashes flittering shut, in overwhelming euphoria and need. “I need more, Sylus.”

He grunts in acknowledgment, large hands fixing hot fetters of flesh against either side of your pelvis as he thrusts into you, each swollen stroke of his arousal sending him impossibly deep, until you feel it may truly reach your womb.

Sylus heaves himself closer into you, nearly pinning you against the wall with the sheer strength of his towering body, the heavy pumping of his hips into you, sending euphoria skating through your veins. Intoxicated on feeling the way he moves within you.

A hand drifts up from your hip to grip at the flare of your waist beneath cloth as Sylus manoeuvres your body to thrust into you at an angle that drives him hard against your swollen spot of pleasure inside.

Your hands fly in agonized frenzy to clutch at his arms, his shoulders as you grapple with the blinding pleasure he’s carving into your body. His head skews downward to catch the sensitive flesh of your neck in between the bite of restive teeth, a low moan wrenched free of your throat. His mouth strokes down the length of your skin until he teeths at the fastenings of your collar, wrenching violent at the buttons before he scatters them apart. Mouth engulfing the exposed slope of your clavicle in fervid groans.

Your fingers skitter for purchase into the silver brush of hair at the base of his neck, tugging harsh with his increasingly heavy pace. A low whine clambering past your throat when his grip upon your body tightens once more in purpose, dragging his length to the near tip of him before he rams back into you on a guttural snarl so primal, it has you violently spasming about his thick shaft, your vision blanking in for a moment.

Sylus’s face is a flood of savage bliss and heated concentration — the sight along with his pleasurably punishing thrusts into your walls — has your heart nearly trying to rip past the bruising beat of it at your breastbone. Hips meeting his in stuttering thrusts as your body bows up, sharp, toward him to chase a height of euphoria so in sight.

“You’re moaning so loud, kitten.” His throaty chuckle stirs weighty into your belly. “Keep that up and you’ll draw us an audience.” Gnawing weakly at your bottom lip to instinctively tamp your sounds just as Sylus moves to drive into you on a particularly ruinous, deliberate thrust that has your legs buckling entirely underneath you.

But he’s there to catch you, thick forearms cording about the feeble, trembling plush of your thighs before he hoists you up entirely onto him; his hushed chuckle drifting into guttural laughter. “Why try being quiet on your own when you can just make use what you have at your disposal?” His lips drive against yours in a vehement kiss of teeth and tongue, devouring you, just the way he is in between your legs. You let yourself go at last, moaning unabated into the searing warmth of his mouth, Sylus’s pace turning to near-frenzied rutting, with the sounds he wrenches from your bruised throat.

He forces you deeper against the wall, spearing you helpless in between the cool stone at your back and the unforgiving intensity of his drilling thrusts pillaging your body. Golden deep pleasure roiling pleasant just beneath your skin, to push at the confines, until you feel like you could float out of it heavenward and never return to the ground.

Your fevered gaze snags against the painted beads of your gifted charm about his neck, swinging vehement with the force of his propulsions. Drifting absent fingers against the worn orbs of the necklace, mushed mind admiring how truly lovely he looks like this for you; coupled along with that tight knit of concentrated pleasure, it makes you believe he truly is all yours to have. As if he belongs to you, with you.

That sole, deranged thought sending arousal thrumming within, so blinding, your body quivers into the tight curve of a crescent, pressing hard against his chest, a peak so close, you can feel it stirring vicious into your belly. “You’re all mine to have, aren’t you? My great warrior,” you gasp against his mouth, trembling fingers sweeping for the broad strength of his shoulders as your nails drive in, harsh.

Sylus’s response; groaned heavy against your tongue, without hesitation. “You’ve always had me in my entirety, sweetheart.”

Your body has wholly given up — a leaden weight — within his grasp, held together only by the strength of Sylus’s arms curving steeled grips about your thighs. Pounding into you with each fervid roll of his hips slapping against the back of your thighs — the profuse flow of your arousal sweltering in between your already burning bodies, the obscene squelch of it each time he withdraws from your walls only to drive back in with savage, terrifying accuracy, rutting himself so good against the spot inside that has you quivering uncontrollably around the length of him.

Your combined sultry symphony so loud within your ears, drumming along with the thundering of your heart, you’re sure any passers-by crossing the mouth of the alley would be able to hear. Your cotton-fed mind so far gone, however, you’re no longer coherent enough to care about anyone hearing your claims upon each other’s bodies. So deeply entrenched in the sole existence of Sylus: his body, tongue, his bruising grip upon you, you love so much — scoring stinging crescents as your own signs of victory, across the broad strength of his shoulders, down the firm muscle of his arms, serving to drive him only harder into you until he’s knocking half-screams out of your throat. Swallowing them up against the hungry sweep of his tongue.

Sylus’s thrusts into your body have turned erratic, his guttural moans heating your skin into a blazing furnace. You’re so close to release, you can feel the heavy crest of its deluge approaching — golden and ruinous.

His grip upon the flare of your hip shifts, pressing you impossibly deeper against him, the new angle driving the length of him against your sensitive bundle of nerves on each hammering thrust. “A-Almost—” Gasping a breathless warning.

Hurtling you so high; the frenzied pump of his hips into yours, the constant stimulation at your swollen bead sending your walls spasming so violent, you feel Sylus loose a long, guttural groan deep into your mouth. You tumble off the precipice of release just as you feel the first thick spurts of his seed searing fire against your sensitized walls; Sylus’s sultry growls keying your frenzied release so high your fingers scrape across the back of his neck to tug him harsh against your mouth. Sinking your quivering, heated desires into a vehement bite at his chest, Sylus’s digits weaving tight into your hair at the back of your head, to hold you there.

His thundering pulse you moan against in appreciation, laving absent to soothe the reddening bite at his skin, as your body convulses with the still flowing spurts of his release, stroking at the intoxicating fever of your prolonged orgasm, filling you to the brim and over; the warmth of it you feel drip past your folds and onto his sturdy thighs.

Taking several, long much needed moments to compose yourself as your sweat-slick face falls, nerveless, to press your cheek against the damp expanse of his chest, body still suspended firm upon the corded strength of his arms, his cock nestled snug and thick within you.

You claw a much-needed gulp of air past a throat, long sore. “...I fear you may have to carry me here on out, as well, Sylus, because I certainly can’t move an inch right now.”

His amused chuckle drifts warm against the top of your head. “While joined together just like this?” He teases softly. “You may truly pass out of sheer embarrassment this time if I do, kitten.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you quip right back, half-hearted, canting a languid gaze up his way. “I think I’ll be long knocked out before any pesky shame kicks in, from how good this — you were.”

You feel Sylus’s length twitch within your walls at your words, groaning quietly at the growing strain of his arousal, back to half-mast already. Truly, was there a limit to the man’s enduring stores of stamina?

But perhaps, the real question was of your own insatiable appetite too, when it came to him, as you were only newly discovering — your wrecked body responding in the muted burn of arousal, kindling into slow fire within your belly, clenching weakly at him.

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Sylus’s skewed grin tucks against your ear as he nuzzles at your cheek. “I’ll carry you out of here in my arms, as you wish, without the additional parade of our naked bodies. In return,” A kiss he feathers, against the angle of your cheekbone. “Come home with me.” He asks of you, softly.

You bury your approval in the nudge of your nose against him, catching his lips against yours in a gentle, chaste kiss, “Sounds like a done deal to me, my handsome warrior.”

End Notes: Thank you for reading! This was a very fun indulgence and I hope everyone who bagged Sylus’ card enjoyed his soft card story.

Tagging as requested: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @bitches4lifebro , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @Cas-tiel13 , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas , @ladyparamount

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sugugasm · 5 months ago

Text

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.

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

#lnds sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus x you #sylus x mc #sylus romance #love and deepspace smut #lads smut #lnds smut #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #lads x reader #lads x you #sylus qin #sylus smut

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starmocha · 2 months ago

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want me, need me, love me [Sylus/Reader ★ 1510 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] When you had made that plan to sell Sylus, you didn’t realize it would come back to (literally) bite you. A/N: This…was originally just a scenario, but I guess it turned into a ficlet in spite of my self-ban that I wasn’t going to write Sylus fics right now until I finish Bride of the Dragon King. In my defense, it’s only appropriate to post this during the cat banner and I always lie to myself <333 Snuck in some light breeding kink because @yourlocalcatscammer got into my brain and I fear I have already exposed myself enough with my last few fics so why bother hiding this anymore 🥹

It was pretend. Just a little ploy.

You knew it.

Sylus did too.

So how did it end up with you trapped underneath him on a couch, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his voice so hoarse and needy? He wouldn’t stop rubbing his cheek against you, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.

“Sy-Sylus, what’s gotten into you?” You tried to push him off, but he was too heavy, too unwilling, too…gone. Was it because of the special gene product? It couldn’t have possibly rewired his whole demeanor, could it? You vaguely recalled him attempting to snatch a parrot earlier when, for a brief moment, the feline instinct in him was triggered. You continued to struggle. “Snap out of it!”

“Miss…you really are heartless,” he rasped, nibbling on your earlobe, “Letting another woman have me so casually?”

You flustered, confused. “What are you talking about?” You looked up at him wide-eyed, startled by the darkened gaze that peered down at you. You swallowed slowly, your words careful and measured, as if you were soothing an agitated wild animal, “Sylus…it wasn’t personal…”

He narrowed his eyes. “I know,” he said, his tone terse. His kissed along your shoulder, leaving little love bites along the way. You squirmed, feeling your body heating up under his feverish ministrations. He sighed and grunted softly, his touches growing bolder.

“Say I’m yours,” he mumbled into your neck, desperation laced his deep voice. He nuzzled his cheek against you over and over again, behaving just like a frustrated cat. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, making you shivered as he husked, “Let me be yours.”

Want me.

“Sy-Sylus, snap out of it! What are you—ah…” Your words died at your lips, a gasp escaped. He had pushed your shirt up, your bra unhooked and tossed to the side without a care. Without hesitation, the Onychinus leader took your sweet little nipple into his warm mouth, his tongue swirling leisurely around the sensitive nub, making you arched up, gasping and crying from the sudden electrifying stimulation.

He grinded languidly against you, and as he suckled greedily, he murmured, “…touch me…my…my ears…”

Your mind was hazy, teetering between rationality and the growing lust that was clouding your judgement. You looked down at the head of silvery-white hair against you and the pair of cat ears twitching restlessly atop Sylus’ head. Nimbly, your fingers stroked the sensitive feline ear, feeling the soft tufts of fur between your fingers. He hummed happily, and he sucked harder.

“Ah—!”

His hands reached down to grab your hips, keeping you grounded against the couch. He brushed against you, and you trembled, feeling his bulge over your skirt.

“Sy-Sylus…”

He looked up, the normally haughty expression that graced the feared and notorious Onychinus leader’s face was gone. Right now, he wore a different expression, one that only you were allowed to see. He looked at you lust-filled and wanting, his lips slightly parted, soft sighs escaping. His eyes softened a little, enough for you to notice.

Need me.

You felt a burning ache inside you, one that he had started, and one that you knew only he could quell. Those soft crimson eyes of his beckoned you closer, silently urging you to let go, to submit to the growing heat between the two of you.

Hesitantly, you leaned up, taking his lips for yourself, long and slow. Sylus stilled, surprised, seemingly taking his time to register the moment. When he realized you were answering his silent pleas, he smiled against your lips. His ears flattened back as he kissed you deeper, his hands fumbled with both your clothes.

Your panties slipped off, his pants unzipped, and his hardened member freed from its confines. He nudged his hip forward, the head of his cock pressed against your slick folds. You gasped and gripped his jacket.

“…Take me…” he mumbled lazily, his mouth finding your nipple again. Your other breast was massaged, caressed and shamelessly groped, your sweet, irresistible moans lured out, answered by his own deep, sultry groans as he suckled hungrily.

You whimpered helplessly, giving up on your attempt to resist him. You were aching so much right now, wanting and needing him in a way you had never felt before. Your fingers found their way into his hair, getting lost in the silky strands. “…Y-yes…”

He moved forward and you arched up, crying out. More and more of him eased in, his deep groans were intoxicating, your own desires igniting as he filled you, your walls stretching wonderfully around the massive intrusion. You buried your face into his neck when he bottomed out, gasping into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you securely. He guided you away from his shoulder and you lay beneath him nearly sobbing in frustration. He looked down at you, flushed cheeks and vulnerable. Again, his warm breath fanned against your mouth as he asked softly, “…Can I…”

“Yes!” You interrupted, your moans tumbling out as he started to move, slowly at first before he built a faster rhythm. Again, you vaguely wondered if he was still lost, still submissive to his feline instincts, because the way he was moving was much more animalistic than you would have expected. It was hurried, graceless, feral, but it was filling you just the way you wanted, the way you needed right now.

Every delicious stroke of his length had you mumbling deliriously, lost in this moment of heavenly pleasure. “Mm…ah…ah…Sy…Sylus…”

His lips found yours again, taking your moans selfishly. He groaned as you clenched around him. “…fuck…Miss…”

You cried out as he spread you more, pushing your legs back, taking you even deeper. “Oh god, oh god…!”

“Mm…breed you…need to breed you…make you mine…m…yours…yours…” He was moving more erratic, his words so frenzied and incoherent, you weren’t sure if he was even registering what he was saying. He was driven purely by a natural need, an instinct so feral, he seemed more animal than man in this moment.

You felt infected by him, by his words, your own traitorous body craving what he was saying. “Ah…yes…yes…ah…breed me…breed me, Sylus…” You weren’t thinking clearly anymore. There wasn’t a single rational thought left in your little head. The only thing you could focus on was his powerful thrusts, reaching you deep where you needed.

“O-oh, Sylus…”

So close. So close, you could feel yourself peaking. Just a little more, almost, almost—

“Mm…Miss…inside…?”

“Yes!” You cried out, your pitch higher than normal, so desperate and needy. He thrusted forward, pushing in even deeper with a heavy groan. His eyes met yours for a moment before you closed yours, screaming out your climax as he coated your walls with his seeds, filling you fuller than you thought was possible.

Distantly, you could hear Sylus mumbling in between his moans.

Love me.

“…mine…yours…yours…”

You panted softly, hearing his own breathing matching your own. You moaned, whimpering as he pulled out, feeling his seed dripping out of your cunt. Slowly, you opened your eyes, seeing Sylus’ flushed face close to yours. He still appeared to be under his feline influence, looking dazed and lost.

Your eyes traveled all over, taking in his satiated expression, seeing the sweats on his glistened skin.

“Ah…oh, I have my lipstick on you.” You touched his lips, seeing red lipstick smeared across. You rubbed your thumb against his mouth, trying to wipe it clean. He stopped you.

He smiled, almost delirious with joy. “Good,” Sylus husked, “You should cover me all over. Mark me as yours.”

Before you could respond, his face was buried in your chest again, his arms tightening around your waist. He nuzzled against you, behaving much more docile now. You rubbed the back of his head for a bit, the soothing act calming him even more. It didn’t take long before you realized he had fallen asleep on top of you. His breathing had slowed, the rhythm steady. He seemed much more relaxed than he was earlier.

You scratched the feline ear atop his head, smiling softly when it twitched in response to your light touch. Sylus instinctively hummed softly in his sleep, pleased.

When he would wake up later, you wondered would he even have remembered what had happened? Would he remember how he had behaved, the words he had spoken? Would he deny it? Make excuses?

You smiled.

You didn’t particularly care. You saw the real him. He would always lower his guard around you, always be transparent about how he felt about you, and now tonight, you realized it wasn’t just that he desired you, but he wanted you to reciprocate as well. Wanted you to be possessive of him, to want and need him in the same way that he felt for you.

To be equally possessive of one another, a mutual obsession with one another.

You almost laughed aloud. Why, what an exquisite idea, you thought to yourself.

You kissed your fingers before pressing them along Sylus’ cheek. He purred softly.

How cute.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #x — fanfics #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #sylus smut #i lowkey just wanted an excuse to write needy and pathetic sylus

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acciotaitlynn · 3 months ago

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⤷ xavierxrafayelxzaynexsylusxreader

⤷ sexual content, 18+, oral; ꒰f&m receiving꒱ angst, too much alpha-energy for 1 room, booby zayne & booty zayne, unprotected sex, cum literally everywhere, spoilers to myths if u kno, sub reader, vagsex, marking/claiming, fingering, rimming, anal, alotta sobbing, so dumb. so wordy it looks like i think im smart. so long but plot flew away in mephistos beak. sorry for the semi abrupt ending but it had to stop. xavier leads the hierarchy

⤷ 15k words ꒰pretty sure i was possessed꒱

this went so far in a direction—dont @ me—ill say I didn't write it (¬_¬")

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You were nestled against Xavier, his thighs and arms enveloping you, a serene sigh escaping your lips as his tongue danced lazily with yours, Your fingers tangled in his hair, while the soft candlelight and sparkling string lights surrounding you created a seductive ambiance that left you feeling delightfully light-headed.Lost in the moment, you could barely register Rafayel’s presence as he traced playful shapes along your sensitive thighs, delighting in the goosebumps rising under his touch. Zayne’s presence was equally faint, as he watched from a reserved distance, still contemplating his participation in the scene unfolding before him.

Xavier wanted nothing more to kick the other two men out of his apartment—your apartment—the one you shared with him. Despite being tied to the others by fate too, you had still chosen Xavier above anyone else, even over Sylus, with his cocky attitude and possessive grip on you. Honestly—the only thing working in Xavier’s favor tonight was Sylus’s absence. Xavier didn’t have to constantly remind the man, through every interaction with you, that he was your favorite—a truth the notorious leader of Onychinus would never accept without a fight.

Xavier knew that if Sylus had been here, there was no way he could endure the sight of the man’s hands on you. Sure, Rafayel’s lingering touches on your skin made him uneasy—you responded to Rafayel with a passion far too close to what you shared with Xavier—but there was something about the man with the glowing red irises that grated on Xavier like nothing else. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if you had purposely not invited Sylus tonight because you knew how much Xavier despised the man.

Despite the discomfort simmering inside him though, Xavier couldn’t suppress the growing arousal as he watched you respond so eagerly to Rafayel’s playful touches. With Rafayel’s teasing fingers gliding across your inner thighs, you couldn’t help but silently thank the gods for this long-awaited night, one you had once resigned to being nothing more than a dream. You could practically feel Xavier’s unease thickening the air though, and you silently prayed to those same gods that he’d find a way to relax soon. You knew Xavier was doing this for you alone—you’d lost track of how many times you had casually mentioned how much you wanted this. When he’d finally agreed, you had nearly told him you’d changed your mind—the last thing you ever wanted was to hurt him. But the thought of having Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne all showing you their love at once was a temptation too powerful to ignore.

You gazed at Rafayel, nearly losing yourself in his sunset-colored eyes. “So, cutie, ready to get started?" Rafayel’s voice dripped with eagerness, and he silently congratulated himself on his performance. Truthfully, Rafayel was almost as uneasy about the situation as Xavier, and likely Zayne too, who’s watchful eyes bore into Rafayel as he spoke to you. But Rafayel believed he was set apart from the other two men—he was wholeheartedly devoted to making this night fulfill your every dream. Plus, he couldn’t ignore how the sight of you blushing from their collective attention, your quick, shallow breaths escaping your parted lips, and the lust shimmering in your wide eyes made his cock harden almost instantly. So, Rafayel cleared his mind, dismissing all his lingering worries as he centered his attention entirely on you. “I’m going to enjoy you first, and I want you to show these two just how incredible I make you feel, yeah?” Rafayel despised the way your gaze darted to Zayne, how your body momentarily tensed against Xavier before you finally nodded softly at his words. You weren’t ready for the guilt that washed over you at Rafayel’s blunt demand— you knew what he had mentioned was inevitable, but it still made you feel a little sorry for how it might affect them. "Stop this," you silently chided yourself—what you wanted more than anything was unfolding right before your eyes, and here you were, ruining your mood with thoughts you’d already prepared for.

In that moment, you mirrored Rafayel's actions, clearing your mind and concentrating entirely on the man in front of you. You sat up and reached for Rafayel, cradling his face in your hands as you kissed him softly. “I can still taste myself on you, princess.” The way his eyes sparkled made you relax instantly, your heart racing in response to his heated gaze. His lips returned to yours, and you tangled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you again, this time with more passion. His tongue twirled with yours as you lifted his shirt, tossing it aside carelessly. “Couldn’t resist stripping me down again, huh?” Rafayel teased with a playful smirk, and you couldn’t help but nod shyly, a grin spreading across your face. “That’s okay, I couldn’t wait to get you out of yours, either.” That had been obvious—Rafayel had nearly torn your dress and panties off the moment he stepped into the apartment. He showered your skin with open-mouthed kisses, his mouth a mix of tongue and teeth, leaving tiny bruises to subtly convey to the others that you were his more than theirs. Rafayel deliberately positioned one beside your exquisite cunt, a smirk spreading across his face as he admired his masterpiece—Rafayel wanted it to drive the others wild, taunting them from the corner of their eye as they watched their cocks sliding in and out of you. After taking one final satisfied glance at what he deemed his finest creation, he hummed softly and drew a flat line up your cunt, groaning at the taste of you.

Xavier struggled to keep still, his erection nearing discomfort at the sight of Rafayel’s tongue moving in and out of you, your breasts arching up so beautifully in Xavier’s face. Unable to resist, he took your peaked nipple between his fingers, pinching it gently to earn a sweet little whimper from you. Suddenly, his breath was brushing against your ear, his tongue gliding along its curve as he drew you tighter against him.

Well, there it was, Zayne thought—your hunter had finally given in.

Zayne had secretly wagered on this moment, betting that Xavier would storm Zayne and Rafayel out the door the instant one of them touched you. When it became evident that wouldn’t happen, Zayne figured at the very least Xavier would stay uncomfortable and distant throughout the entire situation. As Xavier’s hands finally found your breasts, his eyes filled with lust, Zayne felt a heaviness settle in his chest—he truly didn’t want to be the only one feeling uneasy about all of this, and he was certain the ice in his heart at the scene before him wouldn’t thaw. He honestly had no idea what had possessed him to say yes to this. You had consulted him and Rafayel about the idea before approaching Xavier—the man you had picked over the both of them, a reality that the annoying Lemurian before you adamantly denied. Yes, Zayne had come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t the most important man in your life—at least, he couldn’t shake that feeling—but what truly irritated him was that Rafayel appeared to be a close second in the hierarchy of affection among your four lovers. As he observed how you responded to the other two showering you with their love, Zayne couldn’t help but notice that the passion you gave the two of them was nearly equal.

Zayne's emotionless gaze met yours as you looked up at him from the bed, your face glowing with bliss. You reached out toward him, longing in your gesture. Your voice was soft as you called his name, your big eyes filled with a silent question. Zayne closed his eyes and sighed deeply. The moment had arrived—Zayne knew he inevitably might have to take part in this charade, yet the dread that surged within him at the sound of your voice, a voice that usually soothed him like nothing else, was unbearable. He slowly pulled himself upright, each motion strained with a heaviness that made your heart clench painfully. Suddenly, nothing else mattered except the overwhelming desire to ease Zayne's worries, no matter the cost. You loved him just as fiercely as you did Xavier, Sylus, and Rafayel—something Zayne never seemed to fully believe, despite your countless efforts to show him. A deep intuition whispered to you that the others held the same belief about their bond with you. All of your lovers seemed incapable of confronting the truth that lived deep within your heart. Part of the reason you’d wanted to share your love with them at the same time was the quiet hope that your unwavering passion, equally spread between them, would finally help them see the truth and ease their fears.

Rafayel's voice broke through your thoughts. "No faaair," he grumbled, his pout firmly in place as he glared at you. "You promised I'd get to make you come first! How am I supposed to do that if you pull away?" You flashed him a playful smile. "Sorry, Raf. I just really need Zayne right now." Rafayel’s pout deepened as he muttered something under his breath, turning away but staying close—his resolve to not stray more than a body's length from you for the night was clear.

You were pleasantly surprised to find Xavier still leaning back against the headboard, his hooded eyes filled with both lust and a deep adoration as they followed your every move. Your smile widened, warmth blooming in your heart. It made you happy to see Xavier so relaxed, even more so to realize he was truly enjoying the moment. He didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by your shift toward Zayne or by the intensity of your desire for the man—jealousy stirred faintly in Xavier, but it was quickly overrun by desire as he waited to see what you would do next.

Zayne stood in front of you. You couldn’t help but notice that your confession of needing his touch above the others had brought a little light back into his eyes. And Zayne couldn’t help but notice that perhaps your eyes truly did gaze at him with the same heat they had bestowed upon Rafayel and Xavier. Perhaps it was this growing connection that made him allow you to unbuckle his belt, sliding his pants down to reveal his slowly hardening cock.

Your fingers trailed gently along Zayne's length, your face painted with pure desire as you leaned in, taking him into the warmth of your mouth. Zayne couldn’t suppress the groan that rumbled from deep within him. As your tongue and lips worked their magic, his erection grew hard and throbbing, his body finally surrendering to the pleasure. Sensing Zayne's shift, you became more eager, your movements more deliberate. Settling onto the bed, you prepared to fully focus on Zayne, but no sooner had you gotten comfortable than your ass was lifted into the air, followed by a playful smack. When you turned, you found Xavier behind you, a slow smile playing on his lips. At some point, he had shed his clothes, sitting back behind you as his hand slowly pumped his erection. A bead of precum slid down the side of his cock, the sight sending a rush of heat through you. Instinctively, your back arched, offering yourself to him without hesitation. In an instant, Xavier's length was gliding smoothly through your folds, instinctively seeking out and nestling inside your warmth. He let out a quiet huff as he bottomed out, his gaze shifting from your glistening cunt to your eyes. “Don’t let me stop you,” he murmured, his hips starting a slow, tantalizing rhythm.

Zayne hated that a small smile crept across his lips at Xavier’s comment, but the second your mouth wrapped around Zayne again, that irritation vanished. He had to admit, this was better than he’d expected. The way you were so intent on him, the muffled moans as you struggled to take all of him, stirred something deep in Zayne. Before long, he found himself leaning into your enthusiasm, enjoying the sight of you grinding against Xavier while still keeping your focus on him. Though he’d never say it openly, Zayne felt a certain satisfaction at the thought of Xavier being the one to bring you to climax first tonight— if Zayne himself wouldn’t have that pleasure, then Xavier was the most suitable choice—Zayne found solace in the certainty that the Lemurians ever-present smirk would fade, no matter the outcome. Such a silly, juvenile motion was unlike him, Zayne mused, questioning once again if his affection for you was gradually leading him to madness.

Zayne concentrated on you—enchanted by the gentle waves of ripples across your skin as Xavier’s languid, purposeful thrusts led the rhythm. The captivating sway of your breasts beneath you was practically a siren’s call for Zayne—his fingers aching to tease the hardened buds with firm, loving caresses. “I’m going to come now,” he said, his voice a low, smooth timbre that sent shivers down your spine. Gathering your hair at the top of your head, Zayne’s other hand gently tilted your face to grant his cock the perfect angle. “Will you take it all for me?” he murmured, his words making your body hum as you nodded fervently around him. “Good girl.” and with that, Zayne took control, his grip on your hair keeping you steady as he tenderly claimed your mouth.

From his spot at the end of the bed, Rafayel watched with keen eyes, immediately picking up on the signs of your approaching climax. Feeling no guilt whatsoever, he took his cock in hand and began to stroke himself slowly, savoring the sight of your building pleasure.

Xavier could feel himself unraveling, teetering closer and closer to the edge. He wondered if something was wrong with him—how your eagerness at the doctor’s words had sent him spiraling toward release so quickly. The moment Zayne’s hips stuttered, his cum spurting in thick ropes down your throat as he buried himself deep, Xavier couldn’t hold back any longer—his cock pulsed violently as he came, his breath catching at the sensation of your pussy tightening around him, almost painfully, as you found your own release.

The sensation of both Zayne and Xavier coming inside you at once had you tumbling over the edge. Your orgasm hit hard, pussy spasming uncontrollably as your body writhed against Xavier, while you greedily swallowed every last drop of Zayne’s cum.

Zayne was engulfed in the aftershocks of his orgasm, a wave of ecstasy so intense that he wondered how his heart could still be beating. Yet, a deep, insatiable hunger lingered within him, one that a single climax couldn’t satisfy. Zayne instinctively nudged Xavier aside, flipping you onto your back and pulling your legs to your chest as he aligned the tip of his cock with your entrance. He marveled at the sight of your and Xavier's combined release spilling from your still-quivering walls. Shock coursed through Zayne as he slid inside—you had never been this wet before. Perhaps that was one perk of this absurd situation, he thought. His thrusts were wild and messy now, dripping with lust, as he created the most scandalous sounds, each pump drowning in the copious amounts of cum slicking around inside you.

Xavier's eyes drifted to Rafayel. Xavier thought he noticed a bit of pain lurking in Rafayel's gaze —betraying an emotion Rafayel was trying to suppress. Without fully understanding why, Xavier found himself rising to his feet and crossing the room. The narrowing of Rafayel’s eyes betrayed his suspicion of Xavier's intentions, but Xavier merely nodded toward you. “There’s an open spot,” Xavier said before taking a place on the couch.

From the moment he woke up with his cock snuggled warmly inside you, to the ambush in the shower as you deftly slipped through the curtain to take him between your lips—you had been steadily depleting Xavier’s energy reserves all day. So for now, he was content to sit back and watch, indulging in his own pleasure. He couldn’t believe how much this was thrilling him—Xavier was completely captivated by the sight of you, more euphoric than he’d ever seen. You practically trembled with bliss, giving your all to bring them pleasure, and succeeding far beyond your own understanding.

You writhed beneath Zayne, his chest pressing your legs tightly against you as he thrust into you relentlessly, but you caught the silent exchange between Rafayel and Xavier—a moment that made your heart soar. You recognized the significance of Xavier’s subtle gesture toward you; you knew the sacrifice he made for Rafayel was not easy, yet your heart overflowed with love for Xavier for doing it all for you. Rafayel approached the edge of the bed almost hesitantly, his eyes locking with Zayne’s. “Mind if I move her closer?” he asked, his tone light but betraying the effort it took to even ask. It grated on Rafayel—the idea of seeking permission from another man when it came to you was something he despised. Zayne’s lips thinned in clear disapproval, but with a curt nod, he pulled back for just a moment, allowing Rafayel to gently guide you toward the edge. Your eyes were shining with love as Rafayel bent to kiss you softly, his lips barely brushing yours before his hands cradled your face. “You are, without question, the most breathtaking creation I’ve ever seen, cutie.” his voice was soft and sincere, and tears pooled in your eyes from the emotion in his words. He continued, “I’ll be honored to enhance this work of art,” his hands moved down to trace the curves of your lips, a promise of what was to come. “When I’m done with this flawless face, it’ll be nothing short of a masterpiece.” Your head tilted back as Rafayel pressed the tip of his cock to your lips, the silent demand impossible to ignore. You responded instantly, craving the sensation of him driving himself down your throat. Rafayel tore his gaze from you, turning to Zayne with a smirk. “Since you snatched away my opportunity to be the first to have my face wrecked by our princess’s exquisite release, how about a little competition?” Zayne sighed deeply, directing a lethal stare at Rafayel. Unfazed, Rafayel continued, “Of course, she’ll be running the show.” his words were punctuated by a sharp flick to your nipple. “Simple—first one to come loses.” Zayne glared at him, eyes emotionless. “You are easily the most immature individual I have ever encountered.” Zayne had frozen inside you the moment Rafayel voiced his playful challenge, but now he resumed his movements, a surprising, silent acceptance of Rafayel's absurd proposal.

Rafayel's attention was back on you, his hand moving to massage small, deliberate circles on your clit. “Bet you won’t be able to hold it together when she comes hard around your cock,” he taunted Zayne, his voice dripping with amusement. your core clenched painfully under Rafayel's touch, and though part of you wanted to be strong for Zayne, you knew Rafayel was right—Zayne always lost control when you came while wrapped tight around him, and you could already feel your release inching closer. Zayne brushed Rafayel's hand aside, while his hand replaced Rafayel’s on your slick heat. “While that may be true, I’d wager you won’t last either when her throat tightens around you. We both know how good it feels when she chokes on your cock.” Rafayel seethed in silence—Zayne wasn’t wrong. Even now, Rafayel could feel his own release nearing, barely able to restrain himself as he watched you whimper with each of Zayne’s thrusts, your mouth working Rafayel eagerly—spit and his own arousal trailing down your face as you struggled to take him deeper.

In that instant, Rafayel realized he didn’t care who won the challenge. Zayne’s annoyance alone was reward enough. He lazily traced his fingers over one of the marks he’d left on your skin. “What do you say, cutie? Ready to make us feel incredible?” Your eager nod around Rafayel's cock made him smile. “Then go ahead—come for us. Show us how beautiful you look when you come undone.” His words were like fuel to the fire. You could barely recognize the needy whimpers and groans spilling from you—louder and more desperate than usual, saturating the room. Flattening your tongue against Rafayel's cock, you tightened your throat as much as you could, feeling him throb inside you. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, and your body trembled as you instinctively tightened around Zayne. Your second climax of the night was approaching quickly, even faster than you had expected—you could hardly handle the sensations of their hands on your body, of them moving inside you—the pleasure they were giving you was so intense it felt all-consuming. Your hands grasped Rafayel’s thighs, squeezing tightly as you pulled him closer, driving him impossibly deeper into your throat, his balls slapping you gently on the nose with each of his thrusts. Before Rafayel could process it, hot ropes of cum erupted from his cock, as his eyes greedily took in the sight of your pussy tightly gripping Zayne. It was a sight Rafayel never imagined would send him spiraling into an orgasm so intense it felt like it fractured his whole world.

The atmosphere shifted the instant Sylus stepped into the room; the air fell thick and heavy with the simmering anger emanating from the other three men. Unfazed, Rafayel continued to thrust, intent on forcing the infuriating man’s attention as you eagerly swallowed Rafayel’s cum. Sylus observed with a sense of detachment as Rafayel attempted to provoke him, an endeavor that amused Sylus greatly. He had no interest in the purple-haired man moving in your mouth or the one lost in your cunt, not even the one glaring at him from the couch.

your cunt that, no matter what anyone claimed, was rightfully Sylus’s. He felt this was clear in the way you instinctively pulled away from Zayne and Rafayel as soon as you sensed Sylus's presence.

A smile stretched across your lips as your eyes met Sylus's, savoring the sight of him as if you hadn’t imagined that very face a dozen times tonight already. His broad, commanding hands had occupied your mind, even as your other lovers guided you to dizzying heights. Now that all four were here, it felt like the night had finally fallen into place. A chill shot through you, though, as you caught sight of Xavier. His eyes, full of fury, were locked on Sylus, whose possessive gaze on you stirred something dark in him.

Zayne and Rafayel were no better off than Xavier at the sight of the infamous leader of Onychinus standing at the door. they remained to the side, their arms folded and eyes narrowed—Zayne silently debating whether to demand Sylus leave. The only thing holding him back was the look on your face—you looked more content than he’d seen all night. Rafayel had noticed this too, so the two decided to stay back for now, allowing the situation to unfold. They watched as Xavier tracked Sylus’s every step toward you, knowing all too well the depth of Xavier’s hatred for the man—a loathing far more intense than their own. Zayne and Rafayel could only imagine how much harder this must be for him.

As Sylus reached you, he brushed his fingers through your hair with a soft, knowing smile. "Tell me, sweetie. How often did I cross your mind as they filled you?" His words made heat rise in your cheeks, but before you could stop yourself, your eyes lowered, and the truth slipped out in a whisper. "More times than I can count." Shame tinged your confession, but the weight lifted when Sylus gently tilted your chin, his thumb tracing your lower lip. You had braced yourself for Sylus to gloat, maybe even rub your confession in the others' faces. But instead, he only looked satisfied. His touch was gentle as he joined you on the bed, reclining against the headboard and pulling you close. His fingers playfully tickled your waist, coaxing a burst of laughter from you. You hadn’t expected this—you had feared Sylus might act differently in front of the others. But instead, he was treating you exactly as he always did, showing you the side of him that was usually just for you. Your heart overflowed with love, moved by the realization that all of your lovers were showing, in their own ways, your joy meant more to them than their rivalries or tension with one another.

You leaned back into Sylus’s chest, eyes dark with desire as you gazed up at him. Grabbing his hand, you guided it down your body, gliding his long fingers through your slick heat and easing two of them inside you. Sylus chuckled, brushing a searing kiss against your lips as his palm ground against you. “Well, well. Such a needy little kitten—seems like these gentlemen didn’t quite satisfy you.” You pulled back, fixing him with a pointed glare. “Wrong. Now quit talking and do what you’re here for. Like you so rudely mentioned, I’ve wanted this all night.” Sylus's deep laugh was a warm ripple over your skin, making your eyes flutter shut and your legs part even wider. Sylus obeyed, but his gaze flicked to your blue-eyed hunter. Beneath Sylus's confident exterior, he shared the same unspoken worry as the others—that no matter what, it was Xavier you loved most. Sylus had come to terms with that long ago, but he couldn’t deny the opportunity now before him—to show Xavier that, even if you loved him most, it was Sylus who could make your body tremble like no one else, unraveling you in ways only he could. The thought of teaching that same lesson to the other two men pleased Sylus—tonight, he had the rare privilege of schooling them all. Sylus had no hesitation about this encounter, nor did he care that he hadn’t been invited. He had strolled through the door with his usual confidence, fully aware that the reason for his exclusion was currently seated on the couch, wearing a look that warned Sylus not to push his luck. Sylus didn't even try to contain the slow grin that spread across his face as he looked at Xavier, fixing him with a stare that oozed superiority.

“Seems there’s an opening, dear hunter. Think you can keep your composure with your cock buried in her cunt, as my fingers trace her skin?” Xavier locked eyes with Sylus, his expression unreadable, as Xavier considered his next step. Xavier had to admit, your body was calling to him, the sight of you—so beautifully blissed out—glancing at him and giving a soft nod at Sylus’s suggestion had him faltering. Whatever Sylus's intentions, it didn’t matter; Xavier was caving fast. And, as every man in the room would agree; the irresistible lure of making the others watch as you came undone beneath their hands was too tempting to resist. He moved toward your perfect cunt, stroking himself as he prepared to enter your warmth. He had just begun to slip inside when Sylus’s voice shattered his thoughts of filling you completely. “I’ve got a special lesson for you, hunter,” Sylus drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Pay close attention—you’re going to be a good student and memorize the way she falls apart in my arms, screaming my name, even while it’s your cock inside of her. And then, I want you to engrave it into that thick skull of yours—no one else can make her feel as good as I do.” Sylus shot a pointed glance at the other two men, earning an exaggerated eye roll from Rafayel and a cold, icy stare from Zayne. With a quiet curse, Xavier buried himself deep inside your heat, hips starting a steady rhythm; determined not to let Sylus steal even a second of this moment. Xavier's voice carried a low, dark murmur. “Picture this: she cries out my name as she shatters, my cock claiming every inch of her, and there you are—watching her squirm and whimper beneath me, her thoughts consumed solely by me; your presence all but forgotten.” Sylus chuckled, letting out a low whistle. “Would you look at that,” he drawled mockingly, “the hunter’s got claws too, almost as sharp as yours, kitten.” He poked your side playfully, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before returning his attention to Xavier. “Well, let’s see who wins this little wager, boy.” Sylus’s demeanor shifted instantly, teeth sinking into your neck, sucking and biting as if to erase any trace of the others, determined to claim every mark on your skin as his own.

Your eyes drank in the sight of Xavier, mesmerized by the delicate light that had appeared beneath his skin with his emotions, giving him an otherworldly glow. The subtle shadow in his eyes didn’t escape your notice. Slipping from Sylus’s arms, you reached out, drawing Xavier close. Your whispered words caressed his skin like the softest breeze. “You will always be my guiding starlight—the one I search for in the darkness.” The words surprised you as they left your lips. You’d truly had always believed you cherished all your lovers equally, yet this felt dangerously close to proving otherwise. You brushed the thought aside, determined not to let it linger, focusing instead on Xavier—the way his cerulean eyes widened in surprise at your words, their stunning depths the last thing you saw before his lips crashed against yours with sudden, overwhelming intensity.

Xavier recognized the unspoken confession in your words, even if you weren’t ready to acknowledge it yourself. He lifted you in his arms, pulling you close as you wrapped your legs around him, hands tangling in his hair. The sound that escaped you when Xavier thrust into your cunt was nothing short of sinful—a cry of pure need. He was so deep, filling you so completely, pressing all the right places until you were seeing stars, chanting his name like a prayer. He carried you to the wall, lips never parting from yours, your heart pounding as he leaned back, steadying himself so he could fully enjoy you. He had taken you to the farthest corner of the bedroom, putting as much space between you and the others as possible. The impulse to take you to another room altogether was strong, yet Xavier resisted, making a silent promise that he would have you all to himself before long. For now, he stayed where he was, grinding slowly into you, savoring the feel of your slick heat gripping him as your combined arousal trickled down his thighs. Xavier was certain you’d never felt better—so insanely wet; with Zayne's release and your own mixing with the precum Xavier steadily leaked. His cock slid in the slick mess, the obscene sounds making him dizzy with need.

Every one of Xavier’s senses was locked on you—your scent, the sound of your soft sobs, the sight of your tear-filled eyes brimming with love for him. The feel of your sweet cunt gripping him as you bounced in his arms, your body clinging to him with everything you had. Xavier barely had to do the work anymore; his hands simply held the curve of your ass as you rode him, a love-drunk expression spreading across your face, your eyes spilling over with tears. Xavier couldn’t help but think it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

The men glaring from across the room were distant memories, completely forgotten as you lost yourselves in each other. Nothing mattered except the way you moved around Xavier, the way he filled you so perfectly. Yes, you had completely lost yourselves in each other, so it was a shock to your system when Sylus appeared beside you, casually draping his arm on the wall above Xavier’s head. Sylus leaned down, his voice a low whisper in Xavier’s ear. “Did you really think you could take her from me that easily?” he clicked his tongue, ruffling Xavier’s hair, earning an impressively sharp glare in return. Sylus just chuckled under his breath, but something about the way Xavier looked at him now made Sylus pause. Sylus had long written Xavier off as a relic, a man past his prime—tired, weak, and no longer a threat. But there was nothing weak in Xavier’s eyes now. Sylus realized, perhaps for the first time, that if it came down to a fight for you, Xavier would be a formidable opponent. Sylus traced a finger along your jawline, pausing to take in the sight of you—your parted lips, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the way your body trembled as it eagerly welcomed Xavier’s cock. The sight of another man gripping your body, moving inside you, didn’t bother Sylus. No—Sylus’s attention was solely on you, on the sheer pleasure radiating from your every movement. The intensity of it had him undoing his pants, freeing his throbbing cock. He gripped it tightly, stroking slowly as his gaze remained locked on you. He propped himself back over Xavier, watching you with a steady, unreadable gaze—except for one unmistakable emotion: tenderness, that softness he showed only to you.

Sylus's voice was deep and taunting as he spoke to Xavier—"How do you expect me to hear her say your name from all the way over here—assuming it’s yours she’s calling out? I doubt you’ll make her whine it loudly enough for me to notice from across the room." Xavier bristled at Sylus's proximity, at the infuriating comment, and the quiet, assertive dominance Sylus exuded as he stood tall over the both of you. But you refused to let the awkwardness weigh you down—instead, you rode Xavier with purpose, almost sighing in relief when he gave in, greedily taking your nipple into his warm mouth. You were moving together now, Xavier's deep thrusts matching your wild bounces on his length. Sylus exhaled a low, appreciative whistle, “Well, kitten, just how much cream did you indulge in today? You’re drenching your precious hunters cock with an impressive overflow.” His tone was a rich, seductive purr. “Perhaps you should pause and compose yourself. After all, the rest of us are quite parched, too.” His words sparked a smile on your lips and a mischievous glint in your eye, you shifted slightly, directing your playful banter towards Zayne and Rafayel across the room. “Could you two join us? I want you all close this time. I want all eyes on Xavier as he breaks.” Zayne sighed heavily at your words, trailing slowly behind Rafayel, who couldn’t resist obeying you, the pull of your bond tugging at his heart.

You locked eyes with Xavier, your tone playful. “Please,” you teased, “let them see how gorgeous you look when I make you come undone.” Your words were a sly dig at the ones that had echoed around you all night. A deep blush colored Xavier’s cheeks as you continued softly. “Let’s come together, okay?” His only response was a soft smile and a gentle nod before his lips claimed yours, pulling you tightly against him. The moment Xavier’s lips touched yours, he was lost in you again, his hands gripping your ass with such force that you could already imagine the bruises they would leave. Your name was a whispered prayer on his lips as they traveled across your skin, spurring you to move faster, harder, desperate to make Xavier feel the same pleasure he was giving you.

Lust coated your voice as you called out the names of each of your lovers, each one rolling off your tongue with as much reverence as the last. Xavier’s mouth found your breast when you whispered Zayne’s name, your head tipping back in bliss. “Rafayel.” His name came out soft, full of passion and need. Sylus growled when you cried out for him, the lust in your voice unmistakable as your hands fisted tightly in Xavier’s hair.

You locked eyes with Xavier, holding his gaze as the tightness in your core built. “So close, Xav,” you whispered breathlessly, the sound of your voice pushing him even closer to the edge. You continued riding him, kissing him with abandon as your muscles began to contract, a wave of heat shooting up your spine. "Come for me, angel," Xavier murmured, his gentle words a sharp contrast to the intensity of his movements. Xavier's use of your favorite pet name, spoken so lovingly, had you tumbling over the edge. His name escaped your lips in a sob as you were taken over by an orgasm so intense it felt you might break from the sheer pleasure, a flood of bliss drenching Xavier’s cock.

A soft, disbelieving laugh escaped his lips—Xavier was certain you had never squirted before, and the realization that he had been the first filled him with pride. His voice was a teasing melody as he spoke. “Looks like I’m the only one getting a first tonight.” His cock slid messily inside you before he pulled out, grinding himself lazily against your folds, marveling at the slickness coating him. As you clung tightly to Xavier, sobbing softly as you came down from the high, you were surprised to find no trace of embarrassment—a feeling you had expected in a moment like this. What had just unfolded was nothing short of sacred, maybe the most powerful thing you had ever felt, and you regretted none of it. And you loved the feeling of coming down with Xavier’s cock still sliding through your deliciously slick folds—edging you into a state of overstimulation.

You sighed softly as strong hands wrapped around your waist, gently lifting you away from Xavier and pulling you into their embrace. Your eyes fluttered shut, still lost in the waves of pleasure you had just experienced, barely registering Sylus’s dark, demanding words. “I’m going to need you to do that for me now, kitten.” The tone left no room for negotiation. Sylus’s thick cock pushed fully into you with a harsh thrust, one hand roughly circling your clit while the other held you effortlessly, bouncing you on his cock. You were dragged into the depths of overstimulation then, heavy sobs escaping you as Sylus greedily soaked in the sight of the tears cascading down your cheeks. Sylus took great pleasure in seeing you cry while his cock stretched you perfectly, your tear-filled eyes gazing at him with such adoration as his name left your lips in soft, broken hiccups. He was certain there was nothing in any world that could compare to it.

While Sylus was more than happy to let you take control whenever you wanted, he preferred being the one in charge. He relished the power of wringing out your pleasure with his hands; watching you unravel beneath his skilled touch. That’s exactly what was happening now, and Sylus was practically bursting with pride. You caught him off guard, leaning in to softly press your lips to his, tugging his top lip between your teeth before soothing it with your tongue—a secret desire you’d harbored all night. You couldn’t help it; that lip was just so maddeningly irresistible. You kissed Sylus with wild abandon, your hands yanking his hair just hard enough to coax out a cute little whimper, one that made you grin against his lips. He pulled back, shooting you a glare. “Something funny, sweetie?” You giggled, flashing him a dopey grin. “You like me. Like, really like me.” The words were matter-of-fact, a truth you had only just come to fully realize. You’d held off getting too excited until you were sure, and tonight had proven it—there was no way Sylus could dote on you the way he did if he wasn’t truly committed. Sylus was never one to fake his feelings. A soft chuckle rumbled through Sylus's chest as his pace quickened, bouncing you harder with each thrust. His gaze softened at the sight of your ecstatic smile, a grin tugging at his lips. “You're just now realizing this? I expected more from a hunter of your caliber—aren’t you supposed to be good at reading people?” You stuck your tongue out at him, teasing, “I can think of at least a million ideas of how that beautiful mouth of yours could be put to better use,” you quipped with a sultry lilt, “and none of them involve talking.” You kissed him briefly, just enough to make your point, then pulled away with a sly smile playing at the edge of your lips. Power coursed through Sylus’s eye, casting a vibrant crimson glow—a subtle warning shimmering in its depths. "Careful, kitten. You know what happens when you scratch at me with those pretty claws—What’s that saying again? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you?" Sylus's voice was a low, dangerous whisper, sending chills through your body. Your grin only widened as you leaned in closer, matching his tone. "Oh, I know. But they don’t realize what I do," you murmured with a mischievous edge. "This hand likes it when I bite." And with that, you playfully sank your teeth into Sylus's cheek.

Sylus froze, his eyes widening in disbelief, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest. His gaze seared into you, barely containing his irritation. You knew all too well—Sylus despised being toyed with, especially in front of those he didn’t fully trust. “You’re going to regret that,” he snarled. You bounced eagerly on his cock, clapping your hands in excitement. “Perfect! That’s exactly the kind of reaction I was hoping for,” you chimed. Sylus was nothing if not true to his word—his mouth on your chest was far from tender, drawing tears to your eyes that overflowed quicker than they had all night. Sylus was the harshest of them all, unleashing his passion on you without restraint, never hesitating to show you what it meant to mix passion with pain. You felt the guilty pleasure of your body’s eager response, every smack on your skin only making you want more.

"Harder, Sylus," you giggled through the haze, pouting up at him, knowing exactly how much control you had over him. "I’m your naughty girl, remember? I need to be punished."

The others looked on in silence as you fervently rode Sylus, their eyes giving away nothing as they took in the scene before them. Rafayel and Xavier could barely breathe through their jealousy, but their minds were already scheming ways to ignite the same passionate reactions in you that Sylus was provoking. The way you responded to Sylus’s harsh touch sparked a desire in them—they needed to see you like this in their own arms. Zayne, however, was fuming. His desire to tear you from Sylus’s arms and shield you was barely contained—the thought of being rough with you was unthinkable to Zayne. Yet, even he couldn’t look away from the utterly captivating way you fell apart beneath Sylus's relentless touch.

Sylus’s hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp crack echoing through the room like a gunshot. Your hoarse cry of "Yes! Just like that, S-sy," was muffled as your head fell onto his chest, your weak sobs trembling against him. Sylus's slaps rained down relentlessly, each one stinging your skin, while his thrusts became wild and erratic. Without warning, his hand moved from your ass to wrap tightly around your throat, forcing your gaze to meet his. In moments, you were choking beneath his grip, struggling to draw breath, gasping as you fought for air. Sylus's thrusts only grew harder, hitting every perfect spot inside you as you choked out his name between ragged breaths. His hand squeezed even tighter. "Is this good enough for you, sweetie?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. It was obvious to everyone in the room that Sylus’s brutal rhythm was exceeding your wildest expectations. The way you clung to Sylus—your eyes begging for more even as he squeezed the light from them, told the other men everything they needed to know.

"It’s time for you to break for me, kitten. I want to watch every fragment of you shatter around me." his next words were a dark, possessive murmur. "And I want to feel that stunning cunt flood my cock until I'm drowning in you. Understood?” You hiccupped, nodding softly, silently praying your body would respond the way he wanted—because you knew Sylus wouldn’t let you leave this room until you squirted for him, a truth that was evident in the way his eyes had darkened as he watched you gush all over Xavier. Your body grew heavy, that all-too-familiar sensation flooding your limbs, leaving you limp in Sylus's arms. He chuckled darkly as your head lolled to the side, your tongue slipping from your mouth, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy. "Ah, would you look at that—it seems I’ve finally broken my naughty little pet." You didn’t respond, and Sylus doubted you even heard him, lost as you were in the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing. He bounced you easily on his cock, each deep thrust sending shockwaves through his body, bringing him closer to the edge. His hand released your throat, savoring the sound of your desperate gasps for air. Without missing a beat, Sylus's fingers found your clit, pinching it harshly as your body trembled. You let out a soft whimper, your tear-filled eyes searching for him as quiet sobs escaped your lips—“S’too much, S-sy.” Sylus's laughter rang out, warm and genuine. “That’s unfortunate, kitten. Because you know what’s next? You’re going to handle it all like a good little girl, and afterward, you’ll thank me for my generosity and clean me up.” You sniffled and nodded, eager to please him, yearning to make him proud. “Would it be okay if I cleaned these up first?” Your voice was soft and trembling as you reached for his hand, glistening with your arousal, sucking his fingers clean one by one. Your sultry gaze locked onto his, eyes momentarily fluttering shut as you savored the intoxicating blend of his skin with your taste. Every time your eyes flickered open again, Sylus could see the lust in them grow, darkening your irises to a near black. When your body clenched and a rush of warmth flowed over him, Sylus nearly cried out from the sheer ecstasy.

Sylus had found himself captivated by the sounds Xavier drew from your weeping cunt—the wetness and intimacy of the act driving Sylus absolutely insane. Now, engulfed in your shared passion, each sound was Sylus’s own creation.

The raw, primal cry you released at the height of your climax left Sylus dizzy and consumed by sheer lust. The sound emerged from so deep within you that it took even you by surprise, leaving your voice ragged and your body trembling from its intensity. The moment Sylus heard his name fall from your lips on that cry, he lost control—he erupted inside you with powerful, hot waves, his own primal groans mingling with yours as he filled you completely, his cock sliding easily through the intoxicating slickness of your desire. As you gradually returned to a serene state, your heart's rapid drumming eased into a more soothing rhythm, and the residual tremors in your limbs slowly came to rest. When the world around you finally settled back into focus, you became acutely aware of Sylus’s languid movements, his softened manhood still intimately cradled within you.

Despite being wholly sated by the sheer force of your release coursing over him, Sylus seemed resolute in his desire to continue, determined to ensure that his essence remained woven into your very being. The idea of it lingering within you through the night was Sylus’s unvoiced declaration—a subtle mark of possession that would quietly assert your connection to everyone present. You cradled his face in your hands. “Sy, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but your body’s saying its time for a breather.” you whispered playfully, his softening cock giving him away. Sylus kept his eyes shut, savoring your warmth as he drew a slow, deep breath. His reply was a slow, sultry murmur, like velvet over steel. “Hush, kitten, you’re spoiling the moment. Besides, you know my fervor is limitless—perhaps you need a reminder of just how untamed I can be tonight?” At that, his gaze met yours, and the intensity in those eyes was like a magnetic pull to your very being. A shiver of anticipation ran through you as you boldly met his stare. “Will you promise to deliver a lesson I won’t soon forget, teacher?” you murmured, your voice dripping with a playful wickedness that instantly reignited Sylus’s desire.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted as a brazen figure intruded upon your intimate world, hands reaching to claim you from Sylus’s grasp. In that instant a tension rippled through the air, Sylus’s muscles tensing as if poised to protect his claim.

Zayne payed Sylus no mind, scooping you up effortlessly, carrying you to the bed as delighted giggles escaped your lips, arms weaved tightly around Zayne's neck. “It seems our meticulous surgeon is running short on patience today. Should I be concerned about how this might affect your skills, doctor?” Zayne’s gaze sharpened, as he regarded you with an amused intensity.

To Zayne, you appeared almost ethereal in your gentleness, innocence, and purity—an enigma, given how you had fervently begged Sylus for acts that defied your serene nature. Zayne was genuinely taken aback by the flood of anger now rushing through him, sparked the instant Sylus’s hand had first connected with your ass, and by the unfamiliar look in your eyes that almost floored Zayne with its power. To his surprise, Zayne experienced no remorse as he let the anger guide him—unceremoniously tossing you onto the bed, flipping you over and raising your hips high in the air. Z hand came down sharply on your ass, landing on the fading mark left by Sylus. Your heart seemed to pause for a brief, breathless moment, before picking up with renewed urgency. It was almost beyond belief—your Zayne, eyes glinting with resentment and something darker—gazing down at you with a possessiveness that made your breath catch. The white robe Zayne wore, hastily donned while Sylus was still within you, parted slightly to reveal the chiseled contours of his chest— you reached out, unable to stop yourself from trailing your fingers along his bare skin. They gently traced the defined ridges of his abs, following the faint trail of hair that led lower.

In your heart, you had long held the belief that Zayne was the most captivating of all the men in your life. With his sleek, dark hair, and those enchanting green eyes, and the raw power lying in wait under his skin—Zayne embodied an ethereal presence that matched how he viewed you—his steadfast compassion and innate selflessness, consistently putting others needs above his own, alongside his tranquil aura and extraordinary beauty—Zayne seemed to embody the essence of a god walking among mortals. The reflection of awe and unyielding certainty in your eyes spoke volumes to Zayne. Briefly, his eyes softened, only to have the unfamiliar dark shimmer quietly slip back in as he returned your gaze. “It’s rare I find myself on the same page as him,” Zayne remarked with a cold nod toward Sylus. “But you do possess a unique knack for ruining a moment.” You cast Zayne a sharp glare, feeling your heart race as the others settled onto the tousled sheets beside you. Xavier offered a gentle grin, while Rafayel’s laughter rang out freely. “I have to side with them on this one, princess. I’m not even sorry.” Sylus’s lips curled—he was fully aware that every man present shared the same thoughts about your nearly constant cheeky attitude.

Rafayel leaned in closer, his thumb tracing delicately over a taut nipple while his other hand explored your slick folds. He captured your lips in a tender kiss, skillfully keeping your entrance tantalizingly accessible for Zayne’s impending claim. Settling into a comfortable position, Rafayel seemed to prepare himself for the next unfolding of your pleasure—it was more than passing observation, he had long ago begun to immerse himself in your delight, captivated by the symphony of sensations you experienced. Whether it was the unique bond you and he shared, or simply his intense fascination with you—Rafayel felt almost as if he could inhale your emotions, each wave of pleasure you experienced echoing through him.

Suddenly, a hand smacked your backside again, eliciting a sharp cry from your lips.

“All attention on me now, little one,” Zayne's voice a deep, soft timbre that held an enticing edge of command. Only in your wildest dreams—fantasies a lot less probable than the one you had of this night—could you envision your sweet, treasured physician standing behind you, exuding such soft dominance and possessiveness that it set your skin on fire. As your back arched higher instinctively, offering yourself wholly to Zayne, you felt like the luckiest girl alive—experiencing so many of your deepest fantasies in rapid succession. It crossed your mind whether you were using up all your luck—each blissful sigh, every drop of ecstasy, every tear of joy, seemingly tallying against the fortune you were allotted in a year—perhaps even a lifetime. But you didn’t care in the slightest, you would gladly use up every precious ounce of luck for this night to stretch into eternity. The thought of sharing your apartment with only Xavier seemed suddenly small. Your mind wandered to an impossible vision—all your lovers under one roof—a notion so delightfully ridiculous that it sent you into a fit of joyous giggles.

Zayne’s hands, which had been boldly kneading handfuls of your backside while you drifted in thought, suddenly stilled. He shifted his weight to one hand, carefully avoiding Rafayel as his other hand slid down your neck to grasp one of his favorite things in the world. Your breast was firm but yielding in his grasp, the softness inviting his touch as he kneaded it. His fingers played skillfully with your nipple until it stood achingly hard beneath his hand. Zayne fought the urge to flip you over and spread you wide, revealing the feast of your form before him. Still, he was certain those beautiful breasts would never escape his lips throughout his time with you—he savored the way you were currently arranged—your ass arched high in a wordless plea for more. Aligning the tip of his cock with your entrance, Zayne took his time, pushing past your tight walls slowly. He admired your body—the way your soft, inviting cunt welcomed him eagerly, lovingly, despite being thoroughly ravished. There was no hesitation in your body's response to him, as if it wanted nothing more than to continue your pleasure.

In that moment, a realization struck Zayne—your body hadn’t experienced every form of pleasure imaginable tonight, not yet at least, and that thought filled him with unbridled excitement. Maybe Zayne was going to get to experience a first with you tonight, too.

Xavier, initially oblivious to what flickered in Zayne’s eyes, quickly grasped the situation—Zayne had gripped your cheeks possessively, eyes feasting on the sight of your puckered pink entrance. Xavier’s voice carried a dangerous calm as he directed it at Zayne, as if daring him to act. Xavier’s eyes sought his sword, ensuring it was within reach, confident in his ability to retrieve it faster than Zayne’s ice could halt him. You tensed against Zayne, confused, wide eyes first locking with Rafayel’s before darting to a visibly intense Xavier. Xavier’s gaze briefly softened on you, before fixating back on Zayne. “Why don’t you share the little scheme I just watched form in that head of yours.” Xavier taunted, his head tilting with a mocking, piercing stare. “Or were you planning to proceed without saying a word?” Xavier’s comment left you puzzled, prompting you to sit up and loop your arms around Zayne’s neck. “Zaynie, what’s the fuss about?” you asked, giving him your best pout while pressing your body suggestively against his. Zayne exhaled sharply, muttering a soft curse. Blocking out the others, Zayne directed his attention solely to you, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his waist. His hand traced gentle circles on your back as he began to explain. “Do you remember that idea I mentioned some time ago? When we were hiding on the hospital rooftop to watch the sunset?” Your brows furrowed in concentration as Zayne watched, almost imagining a whimsical little thought bubble forming above your head as you struggled to recall his words from long ago. You leaned back in his arms, eyes locking onto his with a look of incredulity, as if questioning his sanity. Your voice carried a mix of disbelief and playful accusation. “That thing from a while back? More like just last week.” A deep blush spread across Zayne’s cheeks at your reminder—he had nearly forgotten how recently he’d broached the subject.

That night, flushed and slightly dazed, Zayne had lifted his head from your chest, lips swollen and slick, breath coming in quick pants as he admired his handiwork—your breasts beautifully marked by this attention. Despite his inebriation—his medical instincts advising rest and rehydration—Zayne couldn’t suppress the needy request that escaped his lips. Zayne had promised with fervent intensity—of which you had no doubt—that he would ensure that every moment was as painless and pleasurable as possible. that you would relish in every sensation he would provide, if you allowed him this intimate privilege. You couldn’t ignore the warmth that blossomed within you at his suggestion now, how it made your core clench with longing as it had so many times before. Though you weren’t about to share it with the entire room, Zayne had subtly woven the idea of exploring anal intimacy into your conversations more times than you could count. In truth, you were entirely ready and willing. There was just one issue—the pale-haired man beside you, who was practically vibrating with a fierce, protective energy as he shot daggers at Zayne.

Xavier’s reaction wasn't driven solely by a sense of safeguarding your honor—it was fueled by his personal claim to your promised first experience. The drunken echo of the promise lingered, a reminder of how you had assured Xavier he would be the first when you were ready. You genuinely intended to keep that vow, often finding yourself lost in daydreams of being pressed against Xavier, his strong arms enveloping you as you both navigated this uncharted territory. That promise seemed unwavering—until you realized how much it meant to Zayne. And you absolutely loathed yourself at the hurt in Zayne’s eyes when you would refuse him. Time and again , after Zayne averted his gaze to mask his disappointment, you’d find yourself harshly pinching a spot on your skin hard enough to leave a bruise, hoping it would escape Zayne’s notice. The physical pain served as a temporary balm for your emotions, dulling the heartache at knowing you were hurting him. But inflicting that same pain on Xavier? Just the idea made you freeze, your mind racing for new, gentle ways to let them down. When you realized the moment for truth had arrived, your stomach sank.

Sylus noticed the shift in your demeanor—the resolve settling in your shoulders, and the firm look in your eyes as you faced the two men. He let out a soft chuckle from his spot on the couch, lounging with a glass of wine in hand. “Oh no, sweetie. The moment has arrived. What’s your plan?” Sylus smirked, tapping his temple—a mockingly confident gesture true to Sylus’s nature. “After tonight, I’m sure you see the wisdom in the age-old saying—two is better than one.” Sylus paused, feigning a sudden revelation as mockingly as his usual head tap. Despite the simplicity of his comment—the gleam in Sylus's eyes suggested he saw it as a crowning moment of wit. Sylus’s amused demeanor was starting to grate on your nerves, and your glare spoke volumes about your patience nearing its limit. Yet, you held your tongue, seething silently as his monologue dragged on. “The logic extends to confessions too, especially when it’s the same issue affecting both people. So, kitten, if you want my humble advice, I’d suggest biting the bullet.” And there it was—the irritation simmering to the surface as Sylus droned on. Truth be told, it flared the moment the word “humble” escaped his annoyingly charming lips. Applying such a word to Sylus was a stretch, unless you were talking about how he managed not to boast about his immense wealth. But for the rest of him? Not so much. You shot him a sharp glare. “I'm sorry, did you seriously just use the word “humble” to describe yourself? In context with you, it’s leagues funnier than that terrible joke you just tried.” With a roll of your eyes you turned away. “Go find a corner to occupy, you’re officially unnecessary here.” Sylus smirked, gesturing towards Rafayel. “And what about our aquatic friend? He’s not mixed up in your drama is he? If you push me out, I’m taking him with me.”

Tendrils of crimson and shadow wove through the air like living smoke, Sylus’s energy magic reaching out with an elegant grace. It glided across the floor, coiling around Rafayel’s ankle with a deliberate tug. The unexpected pull caused Rafayel to stumble briefly, but with a graceful fluidity, he righted himself. With a deliberate flick of his wrist, Rafayel conjured a brilliant flame in his palm, the fire dancing with a life of its own. His eyes burned with a blend of purple, magenta, and blue—a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors that defied nature—each hue shimmering like sunlit ocean waves. The teasing, joyous spirit you knew had vanished, replaced by a figure of such commanding presence that he towered over all. As he stood, radiating power like the majestic crash of ocean waves, you could almost see Rafayel as he once was—the God of the Sea. Though he no longer bore the title, Rafayel still embodied the presence and boundless power of a true deity. His voice echoed with authority, wrapping the room in its potent embrace. “Watch yourself.” His eyes locked onto Sylus with an intensity that spoke volumes, a simmering threat lurking in their depths. “I’ve been itching for the opportunity to wipe that smug smile off your face. So go on—tempt me.” With a light tap to his temple, Sylus’s smile spread gradually, looking as though Rafayel’s fiery eruption was the most delightful present anyone had ever bestowed upon him. “Alright fish, that’s enough for now. Let’s put your bravado aside, shall we?” The authority in Sylus’s voice stood toe-to-toe with Rafayel’s, yet it was tempered by an undercurrent of dark mockery that simmered beneath. “Flaunting power doesn’t entice me, so let’s call this little performance to a close.”

You felt it the moment Rafayel’s composure shattered—his eyes darkened like a brewing storm, and his skin began to shimmer as his power surged to the surface. In that split second, almost reflectively, you did what you had vowed to never do.

“Rafayel.”

Your voice carried a startling authority of its own—resonating with a force that seemed to lunge forward, embedding itself within Rafayel. The bond you shared with the Lemurian came alive as you spoke his name, like a sacred invocation—the mark over his heart blazing fiercely as the connection thrummed between you. Rafayel’s eyes locked onto yours, profound as the ocean, responding to the leash of his name. “Raf, please stop—you’re making me nervous,” you implored softly, though you knew he couldn’t resist your request. “Also, I just updated the decor—I’d prefer to leave it intact." This power over Rafayel brought you no satisfaction, in truth it pained you. The notion of controlling a person was an enigma that unsettled you deeply.

...

Unless you were asserting dominance over the men who hungrily surrounded you—that was a scenario where power felt inherently right. That notion alone unleashed a cascade of enticing ideas swirling in your head. As you surveyed your assembled men, a plan began to take shape—next time, the gathering would embrace a theme of you holding the reins—a prospect destined to occupy your thoughts until it became a reality.

You shook your head softly, grounding yourself; swiftly concluding that what the room needed most right now was a diversion. Reluctant as you were to embrace it, you couldn’t deny that this promised a truly spectacular distraction. With a decisive clap of your hands, you captured everyone's attention. “Listen up boys—I plan on reliving this escapade as many times as I wish, and you will do your best to get along and fulfill your roles.” The teasing lilt in your voice was carefully crafted to reassure them that everything was okay. You pivoted toward Xavier and Rafayel, a sudden realization dawning as your eyes locked with Xavier’s. His eyes met yours with a calm, unreadable expression that sent your stomach into free-fall. You walked toward him but stopped before reaching out, respecting his clear, silent boundary—marked by crossed arms and a distant stance. “Bun, what’s going on?” Xavier's voice was so soft—infused with the pain and confusion he felt. The unspoken secret weighed heavily—Xavier struggled with the knowledge that there was something you hadn’t entrusted to him. He longed to take you aside, away from prying eyes, to unravel this mystery in private. Despite his trust in you, the context was unsettling amidst the crowd. As he looked at you—his anchor in the universe—he hated the pang of mistrust that went through him. You breached his space, whispering, “I’m so sorry, Xav, I didn’t mean to worry you.” before retreating to face Zayne, whose stoic gaze was softened with implicit trust. His faith in you radiated in a subtle lift of his lips and a nod—encouraging you to proceed.

Despite the commotion, Zayne felt a serene detachment. His faith in you was ironclad, be it amidst confessions or mysteries. More than anything, Zayne was just ready to delve into this issue. What had always gnawed at Zayne was the wait—the endless anticipation of sharing that intimate moment he knew you both desired. It was rare for Zayne to indulge in selfish thoughts, but he couldn't help but hope that this resolution would come to an end with him buried deep in your ass. You flashed Zayne a gentle smile, before standing up on the couch, positioning yourself just within Sylus’s reach should you tumble. Sylus, all flirtatious energy and soft touches, gave your ass a light, teasing slap. You playfully batted his hand away, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on his lips, fingers threading through his hair. “Haven’t you been a naughty enough boy tonight?” you teased with a sultry pout, earning a low growl and a sharper smack in response. “I guess i’ll be needing some discipline, won't i, sweetie?” he murmured, his deep voice and tantalizing words sent a thrill up your spine. You kissed the tip of his nose, savoring the playful intimacy before straightening up again. “First, I want to apologize. I’m largely to blame for this whole fiasco.” Your eyes narrowed in Sylus’s direction. “Not the sole reason,” you continued, turning back “but certainly the main one. So—sorry about that. Still; this entire situation is absurd. This secret doesn’t deserve the spectacle it’s become.”

Exhaling deeply, your gaze met Zayne’s. “You covet the honor of being the first to take my asshole’s virginity so intensely, I worry about the toll it would take on your well-being if that fantasy wasn't fulfilled.” Zayne just folded his arms, chuckling softly as he shook his head. “In truth, those fears are mutual,” he jested. “Problem is, I already promised that particular honor to Xavier.” Suspicion flared momentarily in Zayne's eyes. “Was this before or after you made that promise to me?” His tone was cautious, yet curious. You quickly reassured him, “before, I promise,” and his suspicion dissipated. Xavier’s soft voice cut through the silence. “So I guess that makes me the one who got screwed over.” Despite his upset he looked at you with gentle eyes. “Can we talk somewhere private?” You nodded, the prospect of a private conversation bringing you immediate relief. Together, you slipped to the kitchen, a comfortable silence enveloping you both. The gentle click of the door lock piqued your curiosity as Xavier approached, his fingers weaving into your hair as he rested his forehead against yours with a sigh. “I know you have your reasons; but it still stings a bit that you kept something from me,” he murmured. “You’re right to feel that way,” you acknowledged softly. He squeezed you even tighter and asked, “So, what happened?” You leaned back to meet his gaze. “I promised you long before Zayne brought it up. and I meant every word I said when I made it. But Zayne’s enthusiasm is overwhelming—it’s like a dream for him.” Xavier whined softly, his hands playing over your hips. “Why can’t he be second? I just want to go first.”

Xavier's puppy dog eyes nearly undid you, drawing out a giggle as you leaned into his touch, rising on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. “In the end, you claimed the V-card that really counts,” you whispered, Xavier’s soft sigh mingling with your words as his lips met yours in a deep kiss. He pressed gentle kisses to your eyelids and cheeks before lifting you into his arms and placing you softly on the kitchen table, his lips finding yours again with a passion much more intense than before. Xavier's eyes met yours, lips glistening and eyes filled with a dazed desire. “I believe,” he said, placing kisses along your collarbone, “you fell for me first.” A teasing bite on your shoulder followed. “And that means I’ve won the right to lead you through all of your firsts… Particularly that that involve your irresistible body." His voice was low as his teeth bit the mound of your breast, his tongue soothing gently over the sting. “You don’t seem too troubled by the idea of me trying it with Zayne first though. And ever since you first mentioned it, it’s been radio silent.” You tugged Xavier closer. “What eased my nerves in telling you was your lack of urgency about it,” you added. Xavier pulled back slightly, his eyes dancing with gentle amusement. “I, unlike some, value patience and deeply respect your boundaries.” He combed his fingers gently through your hair, tangling them to tilt your head back. “However, it seems that was a mistake—rather than coming to me, you sought someone else to take my place.” You knew Xavier’s words should have sparked at least a hint of remorse, but there was none to be found—not with the way he touched you, his blue eyes sparkling with a teasing warmth. He slid you back on the table as he expertly positioned your legs, bending your knees until they framed your flushed face. Xavier’s eyes danced lazily before fixing on his goal, his hands slipping beneath your hips to pull you closer.

Xavier's words came with a mischievous lilt, “I realized we’re out of lube, Bun,” he murmured, placing a kiss near your sensitive skin, prompting a surprise inhale from you. “We can’t let that happen to your doctor right? Let me help.” Your body momentarily froze. Sensing the pause, Xavier’s words flowed like a gentle stream. “You know you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” he whispered. You replied softly, “It’s not that—it’s just, would it be good for you?” His answering look was so honest. “How could it not be?” you nodded slowly. The remnants of your shared encounters lingered, and Xavier spread it, careful not to rush. The delicate contrast of your skin drew his gaze, stirring a soft wonder about how it might feel under the gentle sweep of his tongue. While Xavier quietly nursed his resentment for Zanye, he found comfort in the plan he had devised the moment the truth slipped from your lips. Xavier’s lips moved softly over your inner thighs and the curve of your ass, his tongue tracing light paths and his lips capturing your skin briefly, offering a hint of the pleasures ahead. His warm breath lingered over your sensitive skin, deliberate and comforting like a small breeze. Xavier hoped you’d enjoy the sensation—and he was right, as your quiet gasp and the subtle arch of your hips toward him revealed your growing need. This gentle urgency ignited a rush within Xavier, spurring him on as his mouth explored further. His tender kisses continued to dot your skin, the feel of his lips mingling with your slick warmth making you dizzy with pleasure. When your breathless giggles rang out, Xavier began to weave in soft flicks of his tongue, deepening each stroke as he moved toward your most sensitive spot. That first languid sweep of his tongue over your soft skin nearly undid him, a helpless whimper escaping him as your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer.

Xavier responded instantly, his next pass with his tongue applying a deeper pressure. The sensations overwhelmed you—entire galaxies danced behind your closed eyes, each touch from Xavier bringing forth a wave of pleasure beyond description. It was a tender kind of ecstasy—the sensations were softer, wrapping around you with a warm blanket. This experience felt more intimate than anything you and Xavier had shared before somehow. His tongue moved with such tenderness and skill, sparking ripples of electricity at the point of each touch. Your voice softly spoke his name like a sacred chant, your hand traveling down to circle your clit in the slickness. The sight of your fingers dancing over your slick folds, chanting his name like a mantra, was nearly Xavier’s undoing— barely aware as his hand found its way to his own arousal, spreading the precum in a hasty eager motion. His lips joined the fray, placing tender, wet suctions between skillful flicks and sweeps of his tongue. Occasionally Xavier teased you with breathy exhalations again, savoring the sweet giggles you gifted him in return. As his tongue gently explored your puckered entrance, the overwhelming pleasure had you gasping a soft curse, your hand on your clit moving more urgently.

Xavier was utterly absorbed in you, the sensation of your body lightly gripping his tongue, a promise for the time he’d finally claim all of you. He softly delved with his tongue, pausing for tender laps and licks at the smooth skin around it, mixing in gentle kisses and the softest teases of his teeth. The room was filled with the urgent sounds of Xavier's hand working his own arousal, intermingled with your breathless cries, creating an intoxicating symphony. Xavier sensed the approach of your release from the way your body tightened around his tongue, eliciting a soft sob from you. Your warmth trickled down, becoming one with the sensations Xavier’s tongue was creating. The way your body gripped his tongue, your warmth and your taste, had Xavier utterly ruined. Certain of your satisfaction, Xavier shifted, raising your hips to the perfect angle to receive his release. It was an overwhelming rush—stealing his breath and setting his heart racing as dizziness danced through his limbs. He spilled over your skin, ensuring no part was left bare, before gently scooping you up to maintain the placement of his release.

Zayne, Rafayel, and Sylus had gathered in the main room, lingering as they anticipated the conclusion of your and Xavier's activities in the kitchen. Rafayel and Sylus exchanged amused looks as Xavier walked in, holding you with your ass in the air, his release trailing down. Ignoring their knowing smiles, Xavier nodded towards the bedroom door, signaling for Zayne to follow. Xavier wanted to ensure that this intimate moment was only shared between you and Zayne. Xavier recognized its deep significance for both of you, and despite his own mixed feelings, he was determined to make the experience as comfortable and joyful for you as it could be. Silently, Zayne obliged, his gaze softening as he noticed your blissful grin, nestled in Xavier’s arms. “Zayniee, I missed you" you whispered with delight, looking up at him with pure adoration. You embodied satisfaction—covered in cum, eyes shining, a rosy flush adorning your cheeks. Zayne simply shook his head with a soft smile. Xavier gently laid you on the bed, keeping your body perfectly displayed for Zayne as Xavier motioned toward your inviting form. Speaking in a subdued tone, Xavier’s words carried an edge, a silent testament to his restrained fury aimed at Zayne. Always prioritizing your happiness, Xavier suppressed his irritation and offered a statement that provided him with some relief. “You want to lead? Go ahead. But you’ll do so wrapped in my essence—in a way, I'm still there.” His gaze bore into Zayne, a mosaic of emotions—a possessive protectiveness over you, frustration with Zayne, and surprisingly, a gentle trust as he entrusted you to Zayne’s care. With that, Xavier turned, leaving the room as the door closed quietly.

“Zayne?” Your voice was gentle, yet carried a new undertone of seriousness. When Zayne met your gaze, he was nearly overwhelmed at the depth of love he saw reflected there. With a playful wiggle of your hips, you suggested, “There’s a towel in the bathroom. Want to clean me up?” Your tender smile reassured him, and Zayne silently appreciated your request. He realized you would have welcomed the symbolism of Xavier’s essence being present, but he found himself relieved to forgo that connection. And truthfully, while you did enjoy the idea of intertwining their experiences, you recognized Zayne needed this moment to be exclusively his. You suspected that Xavier was aware of this too, as he had quietly demonstrated by leading you and Zayne to this room alone. Your gaze lingered on Zayne as he tended to you with the most gentle of care—his eyes reflected a subtle tenderness, and every pass of the warm cloth on your skin infused you with comfort and a re-kindling of desire. Zayne took his time, ensuring that the soft rag caressed every part of your skin. The soothing warmth of the rag, followed by the coolness of Zayne’s touch provided a soothing contrast. Your eyelids soon grew heavy, and you were just on the verge of drifting off when Zayne wrapped you carefully in his arms, cradling you against him as he spooned you softly. His fingers brushed your hair aside, exposing your neck as he placed a soft kiss on your collarbone. “Are you alright?” he asked, his tone was tinted with seriousness. Zayne wasn’t referring to any disagreement with you and Xavier—seeing you arrive in Xavier's arms, covered by his essence—Zayne knew you two were on solid ground. Zayne's concern was solely for your wellbeing; he had no intention of proceeding unless he knew this was truly what you wanted. You shifted, threading your fingers through his hair, meeting his gaze with a clear certainty. Seeing the honest assurance in your eyes, Zayne felt his worries melt away. You drew his face to your yours, arching into him with a passionate intensity.

You craved Zayne—needed with every fiber of your being right now. You had dreamed of this moment, wanting nothing more than for him to be the one to share it with you. Now that it was unfolding—you were determined to seize every single second. This yearning drove you to cling to him tightly, your body aligning with his as if magnetically drawn. Feeling a light warmth trickle down your thigh, you reached between yourself and Zayne, wrapping your hand around his length, surprised by the abundance of precum coating it. You hummed in approval, spreading it over his shaft as you playfully remarked, “Looks like Xavier’s concerns about the lube weren’t necessary,” Zayne’s look was direct. “Is that the excuse he gave you for that display?” You just giggled, cozying back against him and parting yourself to welcome him.

"There it is, Zayne, right within your reach—The Promised Land.” A quiet burst of laughter escaped Zayne as his smile grew. “Silly girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing softly against your hair. When you spoke again, your eyes were earnest, “Touch me Zayne. Please.” In that moment, Zayne’s resolve crumbled, your words dissolving his composure. With you already spreading yourself invitingly for him, it was effortless for Zayne to slide his cock along your sensitive skin, his movements slow and deliberate. Though this was an act familiar to Zayne, it felt different this time, as though his very being sensed a deeper bond forming between you. Zayne dedicated himself fully, transferring every bit of his essence to you, reclaiming what had once been covered by Xavier’s touch. Pulling you closer, he let his warm breath linger over your ear. “And how exactly do you want me to touch you, little one?” Zayne's words were probing, suffused with a quiet heat, they wrapped around you, and your breath hitched as you guided his hand. You arched your back, offering better access to your smooth puckered skin. You exhaled softly as his fingertips traced the lightest path over you. “Don’t you already know what to do, doctor? You’ve had plenty of time to study.” You purred, your voice a teasing lure for Zayne as his finger lightly caressed your entrance, enjoying its instinctive clench. You softly pleaded, “You've been there before Zayne—I need more.” Zayne aligned his thumb with your entrance, stirring the slickness as he eased just the tip inside. “Even Xavier’s tongue delved deeper, Zayne.” That remark earned a low growl and a heated murmur of “brat” from Zayne as he thrust his thumb in without warning.

Once his thumb was buried deeply inside you, Zayne’s other hand entwined tightly in your hair, positioning you so he could observe your every reaction. Zayne’s irritation was a particular pleasure for you—his method of administering consequences always made your actions worthwhile—especially now that his reactions carried a newfound intensity. This was clear from the way you felt no remorse, even though Zayne had just abruptly thrust his finger into your ass—eliciting a sharp pain that momentarily clouded your lust. “Better?” His voice, heavy with seductive authority, sent shivers down your spine. It was obvious too when the first words to fall from your lips came as a deep sigh of, “Yes, Zayne—just like that.” Those words ignited something within Zayne—he had planned to approach this moment with the utmost care, showing his love in his every delicate touch. Yet, the tone of your voice and the longing in your eyes implored him for more, and it surprised him how willing he was to meet that request. Once your body settled into relaxation after its initial response, you almost went limp in Zayne's arms, completely entrusting yourself to him. He maintained a consistent rhythm—sensing your craving for intensity yet choosing to gently prepare you first. His thumb moved in and out of your entrance, slow and deep—Zayne would pull back just to the tip, savoring the tight suction before drawing in more of his essence and plunging deeply once more. Zayne became enveloped in this sensation, his eyes closing as he focused on the feeling of your grip around his thumb, how each movement made you even wetter. He sighed as he ran his hand through your folds, mixing your essence with his. You were utterly tantalizing—the very picture of a man's deepest fantasies. You felt Zayne slowly introduce a second finger, offering your body time to accommodate the new sensation this time.

Once you began to relax around the dual intrusion, Zayne’s lips and teeth etched a persistent path across your skin. You wondered how your lovers could still find you alluring, marred as you were by the marks of their passion. But, as Zayne eagerly added his own signature to the canvas of your skin, you realized this wasn’t something to be concerned about. The challenge of concealing these marks in the upcoming weeks, however, was a much more realistic concern.

Zayne was nearing his breaking point, his lips flushed and slick, breath escaping him even faster than yours. He was more of a mess than you, and Zayne nearly rejoiced when your quiet whisper cut through his desire-laden trance. The request for “more” was so faint that Zayne might have missed it had he not been attuned to every nuance of your expression. Zayne positioned his shaft at your entrance, gently tracing soothing circles on your hips and your ass. Your entire being cried out for Zayne to finally take you,and he could see that desperation, yet he had to confirm. “Are you completely certain about this?” Eyes remaining closed, you were nearly beyond words as you sighed deeply, sinking further into the softness of the comforter beneath you, “Need you so bad, Zayne. Please—i'll do anything,” The last word was a pure plea from the depths of your being. As Zayne’s cock slowly opened you up, your body stayed perfectly at ease. After the meticulous attention from both Xavier and Zayne, you didn’t feel the slightest nervousness about what was to come.

Your mind and body were at ease, and soft giggles, whimpers, and whispered iterations of Zayne’s name escaped your lips as he pushed deeper into you. A strangled sob of “yes” echoed as he pushed in completely—Zayne rendered motionless by the overwhelming sensation of your warmth and tight embrace. Honestly, Zayne was surprised he hadn’t simply ceased to exist in that moment—reforming as a being set to traverse the universe to find your spirit once again. The pressure of being embedded in your ass was far more intense than the snug fit of your cunt, almost overpoweringly so at first. Drawing you as tight as he could against him, Zayne’s face nestled into your neck, his warm breath escaping in a huff as he pulled away to the tip before pushing in again. Quickly captivated by the intensity, Zayne seemed to drift—his senses absorbed by the slow, deliberate rhythm of his movements. Resting his head on your shoulder, he watched in admiration as your breasts bounced gently with each pull of his hips. You embodied pure sinfulness—your slick skin exuding lust as your hand wandered across it. Zayne's teeth found your neck as your fingers explored your depths.

It was surprising how deeply connected you were to Zayne in that moment; perhaps this was the reason behind his insistence and eagerness to explore anal together. It dawned on you why he wanted to be your first, and quietly, you sensed he shared these same revelations. Zayne, having anticipated this intensity, knew from his research there was something special about it, yet nothing truly prepared him for this. Your body seemed intent on holding him as if he were becoming an inseparable part of you, and Zayne felt that profound bond as well. He was a beautiful mess—his skin glistening with sweat as he whispered your name and sweet murmurs fervently, his cock gliding slickly in an abundance of precum, a filthy testament to his arousal. You were equally overwhelmed, desperately rubbing your clit, your head gently bobbing with his motions, tears of bliss tracing your cheeks. A quiet, “love you, Zayne” slipped out, carrying straight to Zayne’s heart.

It was your declaration of love that tipped Zayne over the edge, building to a power climax that surpassed anything he’d ever felt before. Zayne succumbed to wave after wave of ecstasy, each pulse of his release felt keenly against your tightly enveloping warmth. The sensation of his throbbing veins and the filling warmth of his seed sent you spiraling into your own breathtaking orgasm, waves of pleasure coursing from where you were joined to every part of your being. Even after his movements slowed, Zayne remained nestled within you, savoring the lingering connection. Once more, your latest release soaked the bedding—a new trait of yours that Zayne found himself utterly obsessed with.

As the pleasure ebbed, you floated in its serene wake, a dreamy, weightless sensation setting comfortably within you. With movements that were slow and almost worshipful, Zayne delicately cleaned you with a warm cloth again. His touch was as meticulous and caring as it had been the first time; the warmth of the rag tracing soothing paths across your skin. His gentle hands and the soft kisses he left on your skin’s marks eased you softly to sleep. After attending to himself, Zayne took a brief moment to look in on you again before checking in on the rest of the group. During the time you and Zayne had been lost in each other, Rafayel and Sylus had quietly slipped away, leaving only Xavier dozing on the couch. Zayne sighed with relief, grateful for the chance to spend the rest of the night holding you close.

When Xavier awoke, sleep still lingering, he wandered to the bedroom to find you and Zayne softly entwined, your breaths synchronized in a peaceful rhythm. Gently, Xavier settled behind you, a soft, sleepy sigh escaping him the moment his body relaxed against yours. Your satisfaction seemed to emanate from you, enveloping Xavier as he breathed in your scent. A selfish desire stirred within him to wake you, fueled by the fantasy of taking Zayne’s place. But, exhaustion triumphed as he snuggled closer, melting into your warmth.

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chuluoyi · 6 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 (𝐔𝐍)𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋

- sylus x reader

master and servant. man and his right hand woman. you and sylus are labeled many things, but does love exist in many labels of your relationship?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, fluff, unrequited love, explicit smut, fwb, jealousy, hurt/comfort, description of major injury, blood loss, gore, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), spoilers! takes place throughout long-awaited revelry

note: my very first love and deepspace fic! :') w.c 5.2k ! i have a severe brainrot omg

Everyone knows of your relationship with Sylus.

The leader of Onychinus and his notorious lady assassin, you two strike fear into his foes and allies alike. You are as deadly as you are beautiful, and that's more or less why he keeps you around.

What everyone doesn't know, however... is that behind closed doors, you too share his wealth and his bed.

“I don't mind to spend the whole night with you,” he’d whisper in your ear seductively at nights, deft and veiny hands roaming your body all over. He often made you ride on top of him, dark burgundy eyes hazed with lust, knowing full well that you desired the very same goal he did.

And you’d respond his hunger with the same fervor, crashing your lips into his, your tongues intertwining, your hips moving vigorously against him.

“Ahh... ah!” Before you knew it, his cock—thick and long in size—slid inside you in such a snug fit, making you throw your head back and dig your sharp nails into his skin.

“Keep me going with your voice, kitten.” Sylus growled, eyeing your wobbling lips and tightly-pressed eyes as he sank even deeper inside you. “Yeah, just like that...”

Sylus always began roughly, seemingly not minding your breathless moans and wishes, and you liked him that way too—

“Is this... all you've got?” you panted in a hoarse voice, sweat lining your neck and forehead, the coil in your belly tightened so deliciously each time he thrusted into you. “Surely... y-you can do better...”

“Ha,” he gave a low snort, his red eyes blazing as he grabbed your bum and squeezed it, making you gasp. “Careful what you wish for... sweetie.”

And then your vision literally tilted upside down—Sylus gladly flipped your position so he could see you even better. This way, he also had even better access to you, intertwining your hand with his, spreading your legs wide so he could rut into you.

“—!” Breath was knocked out of your lungs as immeasurable pleasure washed over you, crashing and receding in an instant. You almost screamed as your back arched.

He broke into a satisfied smirk. “Let it out,” he murmured against your neck, biting gently into your skin, voice muffled. “You never hold back with me, do you, hmm? So, don’t start now.”

“You b-bastard...” you looked up at him with a breathless smile, knowing how close you were to losing your wits.

He simply made your nights worth remember. His allure was undeniable, with a voice that was naturally sultry. And his hands... fuck, they did heaven's work.

It didn't take you long to finally reach your climax, and once you did, your moans were the nastiest all night as you continuously lined his back with scratches.

You could feel how he was chasing his own orgasm all the while, before pulling out right at the last minute and made a mess on your belly, falling beside you.

“Tired?” Sylus’ chest rumbled with laughter as you laid sprawled there in a haze. His eyes narrowed at the sight of your burning cheeks. “I really like this look on your face right now.”

You rolled your eyes, catching your breath and shivered. “I bet you tell that to all other women you manage to lure to your bed.”

“How presumptuous.” He sent you a sour scowl. “I have a high standard— you should consider yourself lucky.”

Well, you do. Holding back a smile, you changed the topic. “I’m cold. Clean me up already.”

“Now, now… what a spoiled little thing you are…” Sylus chuckled, his voice deep and low, yet wrapping his arms around you nonetheless, hoisting you up.

Nights of passion. Mutually beneficial relationship. Nothing more and less.

No strings attached.

This is thrilling. Intimacy without commitment is more than enough to spice your checkered life. After all, what could be better and more rewarding than fucking the hottest man in N109 Zone and getting away with it?

At least, you thought so.

. . .

“Damn, you’re going to make me sore…” you grumbled, letting out a deep sigh as you sank into the sheets after he had cleaned you up, still basking in the afterglow and ready to drift off to sleep. “Ahh...”

Sylus’ lips curved into a wry smile as he watched you make yourself comfortable on his bed, slipping on his black shirt. “Well, I’m just that good, and you did ask for it.”

“Are you going out?” you asked in a small voice, teetering between sleep and wakefulness as you noticed him taking out his favorite gun. “It’s midnight.”

“Luke and Kieran said she has arrived.” Sylus said in low voice, not even sparing you a look. “After all, she has gone through all that trouble to come here, it is only right that I greet her myself.”

The woman. Sylus had told you several times, how a woman with Aether Core and powerful Resonance Evol would eventually come to N109 Zone. And that when the time came, he would make her resonate with him.

A part of you didn’t really know what to feel about this vague plan of his. “Will you bring her here too?”

“I’ll have her stay here until we have reached resonance,” he responded casually while shrugging on his coat.

Sylus valued others depending on their worth. He said it so himself—he isn't a philanthropist. He saw potential in your evol—the Speech Manipulation—which is why he rescued you three years ago, even after you had swung a blade to his throat.

This time must be the same. You played with the edges of your hair. “Well, consider me jealous then. Seems like I’ll have a rival soon.”

Your quip finally caught his attention, as he finally turned to you, one side of his mouth upturned.

“Ha.” Sylus strolled over to where you lay on the bed and placed a hand under your chin, letting out a throaty chuckle. “Is there even anyone brave enough to go against you?”

You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “We shall see about that.”

Little did you know, the coming of this new girl would be the start of the undoing of your mutually beneficial relationship.

You would've expected the woman bearing Aether Core inside her to be way more interesting than that clueless, weak and easily spooked hunter from Linkon City.

But your and Sylus' definitions of interesting clearly differed though, as you caught him smiling after he pulled the most outrageous stunt on himself— having her shoot him right in the heart.

“She is funny,” he said to himself, almost snickering even as you wiped the blood off his toned body. “She was shaking so much the moment I pulled the trigger.”

“Is that your only finding—” you snapped as you wrapped the bandage around his bare chest, fuming. “—after shooting yourself just to mess with her?”

Luke and Kieran told you how he had used his Evol to pull the hunter girl onto his lap, then handed her a gun and made her shoot him. You couldn't believe it at first, until the sight of Sylus staggering to his bedroom, his shirt bloodied and clutching his chest made you almost scream in horror.

“Is that really necessary?” you scowled, tightening the bandage with more force than needed. “Or are you just trying to get her attention?”

Sylus’ sharp gaze settled on you then, seemingly not taking your comment well.

“What’s got you so worked up about this, hmm?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he observed your cross expression. “Last I checked, we agreed not to get involved in each other’s personal affairs.”

Personal affairs, he said? Everything you two had done had long past breached all personal boundaries.

But the fact remains that you two are nothing more than—

“Fine.” You tied the bandage abruptly and about to storm off, making no effort to conceal your ire. You couldn’t say you were worried or that you hated seeing blood smeared across him. That was never in the agreement.

Until you felt a hard tug on your arm—

“And where does the angry kitty think she is going, hmm?”

Before you could discern it, your back was pressed against the wall—your left arm pinned beside your head, with Sylus filling your view.

His sculpted abs were right in front of you for the taking, his scent permeated the air, and his unsettling swirls of crimson eyes had you completely captivated.

“Have I ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?” Sylus laughed as he leaned in, gripping your chin with his other hand. “If I didn’t know you were more than capable of slitting my throat in my sleep, I’d want you to look at me like this every day.”

It struck you how your heart raced wildly under his intense gaze. With his perfect face so close, the only sound that seemed to be most prominent was the pounding of your own heartbeat.

“What’s wrong? We’ve been closer than this,” Sylus taunted with a wide grin, his breath warm against your ear as he pressed his body against yours. “What’s making you so nervous?”

If you knew anything about Sylus, it was that he took pleasure in seeing you squirm in his hold. You glared daggers at him. “I hate you.”

“How lovely.”

“You’re infuriating,” you spat, devoid of any amusement.

He barked a satisfied bout of laugh once again, before releasing your chin. However, to your surprise, that very same hand groped your chest roughly—

“Then perhaps...” he hummed, a wicked glint in his red eyes, whispering to you with sultry voice right before he pulled you into him and devour your lips in heat: “You can help to fix me, sweetie.”

His kisses were hot as his tongue and hands made his mark on your body. Pressed against his bare skin, you gripped his strong, broad shoulders as he lifted your legs to his waist.

As always, he managed to dissolve all your lingering thoughts with lust. You just never knew one day you would finally reach the last straw though.

. . .

"Are you going out again tonight?" you muttered, tracing your fingers along his abs as you lay in his arms, still a bit giddy after your passionate session.

"No, I'm sleepy," he replied quickly, his voice low as he pulled you closer and closed his eyes. "Go to sleep already, kitten."

"I can't sleep."

"Poor you. I can though."

You quirked a frown at him. "You're so annoying these days."

"Oh?" Sylus cracked his eyes open, a smirk on his lips. "If you find me so disagreeable, you can always make me obey you, no?"

Your speech manipulation could make people do your bidding and it was a pretty useful talent. Apart from the first day you met Sylus three years ago in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you had never tried using it on him again.

"I won't, you idiot." You sighed and turned away, your back facing him. The idea of bending him to your will somehow didn't sit right with you. It was against your conscience now.

"Why are you facing away? It's freezing," he grumbled almost in a petulant voice. You nearly rolled your eyes, until you felt his strong arms wrap around your middle from behind.

"Why are you hugging me? We’re not usually this touchy after sex."

"I'm telling you, I'm cold, and you're my heat pillow."

"You're so damn insufferable..."

Despite your sharp retort, a smile found its way to your face. Moments like this were rare, and when he was the one seeking you, you couldn't help these butterflies in your stomach. Still...

You two are not in love, dammit. Sometimes it confused you a great deal. What is love anyway?

“Caw, caw, caw!”

“Mephisto, shush.”

Sylus’ robotic pet crow had surprisingly taken a liking to you shortly after you began living in the base. He obeyed your commands just as he did with his owner. The same couldn’t be said for Miss Hunter though, as Mephisto seemed to have a strong dislike for her.

You were idling at the living room with the crow when you realized how close it was to dawn.

“Luke, Kieran,” you called to the twins, who were bickering over a crate of oranges, frowning. “Where did Sylus go?”

Both stopped and looked at you, and Kieran blurted out, “Boss? Oh, he went out with Miss Hunter!”

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised, but you were nonetheless. “And he still hasn’t come back?”

“Ah, yeah... but I think they just went on a short errand. He’s probably back or already on his way?” Luke mused, and you clicked your tongue.

It irritated you, it gnawed at you—how Sylus had been spending so much time with that hunter these days. He was trying to make her resonate with him, but still, the way you saw it, he was going through his playbook—

Just as he had done when he pursued you.

Calling her “kitten”, “sweetie”... everything he did with her seemed like a replay of the first year you spent in this place.

Deep down, perhaps you had hoped that, in some way, Sylus would see you as you saw him. Love might be out of reach in your bleak existences, but you at least wished he would consider you an irreplaceable presence.

You were petty, and you knew it.

“Mephisto,” you whispered to the cooing crow as it turned to you pliantly. “Go find and bother her, okay? Don’t let her out of your sight,” you added, letting the bird fly away on your command.

Deciding to rest in his room, you left the living room with a sense of exhaustion. You had stayed up for Sylus on a whim, as he had promised to share his plans for the upcoming auction soon. However, sleeping at dawn was giving you frequent headaches, and the habit was wearing on you.

You took a bath and then headed to his bedroom, and you would have never guessed what scene you'd walk into—

Sylus, in his bathrobe, and that girl… nestled against his chest on his bed. The very same bed where you two made out just the other night.

“Y/N?” Sylus looked at you over the girl’s shoulder, and you were frozen on the spot, feeling an indescribable rush of emotions washing over you.

In the next moment, the hunter girl scrambled away from him in panic, her face flushed with shame. “I-it’s not what it looks like! I swear! Sylus— I was just trying to find his brooch and—!”

In that instant, something inside you turned ice-cold. Her frantic explanations—none of it registered to you. The fact that he let her into his bed was enough for you.

You weren’t sure if Sylus noticed, but your eyes darkened, your fists clenched, and a storm raged within your chest.

“Sorry for intruding,” you said frostily, cutting her off and casting a contemptuous glance at both of them before turning on your heel and slamming the door shut.

It was no use, you finally realized. In this twisted relationship you two shared, there could never be anything more than hot sex and flirtations.

Somehow it hurt more deeply than you expected, as though your heart were being scorched. Yet, you couldn’t even find the tears to cry—as you weren't allowed to do so.

Sylus noticed the change in you immediately.

You vanished from the base and returned in the evening, not sparing him even a look and he could tell then that you had come back a different woman.

And it was the part he hated the most. These days, he couldn't read you at all.

"Luke and Kieran, keep an eye on her tonight," he instructed his two underlings as the two of them were getting ready.

"Who? Miss Hunter?" Luke questioned.

"Or the missus?" Kieran supplied.

Both of them liked you as well. Unlike him, you’d spend your free time indulging their nonsense, and over time, they even gave you that friendly moniker.

They didn't really know the nature of your physical relationship though. Or at least, didn't really know fully.

"The latter," Sylus gruffly replied, and then he went to the hunter girl to prepare her as well.

He had a justified explanation. If you had asked him, he would tell you nothing had happened. Your ire was better than silence, definitely a hundred times better than this.

But why didn't you come to him?

And why does he want you to come and demand him for an explanation?

However, tonight was the auction for the Aether Core. He had to finish this first before he could get a word with you later.

At least that was what Sylus had thought... until he saw you at the auction venue.

You were stunning in that black cocktail dress. He didn’t know when you had your hair done, but you looked as if you had spent the entire day preparing for this occasion despite having barely two hours after coming back. You were definitely a head-turner, drawing the attention of many vermin as you navigated the ballroom with grace and everlasting smile.

And it grated at him. Severely. Sylus's eyes were locked on each lowlife hell-bent on taking his life and desperate to get into your pants, knowing he would end them all tonight.

...and as if it wasn't enough, he then saw you entertaining one of them with that sort of smile you used to reserve for him.

. . .

"Mm-hm, really?"

"Yes, I've heard they are inside the safe number 209."

You coyly smirked, looking the man with mask in front of you, whom you had led to a deserted hallway, who had been complying and smiling at each and every question of yours.

"Thank you then." You flashed him your best smile, about to go back to the main hall.

"And uh, miss," he suddenly turned to you in a flurry. "I believe I haven't gotten your name—"

You chuckled, facing him again. "Oh, you want to know my name?"

"Very much so!"

This was like bread and butter to you. You effortlessly wrapped an arm around the man's neck, standing on your tiptoes, and whispered in his ear:

"Halt."

He went rigid the moment the command left your lips, and you could feel his panic rising as you pulled away.

"W-what happened—!?" he thrashed against the invisible hold manifested by your Evol in pure panic, to no avail, whereas you regarded at him with a cold smile.

"What a shame. I planned to let you be, but then you gave me the perfect opportunity." You maintained your eerie smile as you pulled out a thin, needle-like blade from the hem of your dress. "You have been a great help. Thank you."

With that, you slit his throat, and blood splattered onto the ground in a continuous pool as he jerked, collapsing like a broken statue.

You felt nothing at the sight, but you knew you weren't alone as you felt his presence.

"You started the party without me?" Sylus' deep voice resonated through the hall. "Didn't know you have that much of bloodlust this early, sweetie."

The clench of your heart was still there, even when you had decided to discard all your lingering feelings for this man. Still, you put on the perfect poker face when you met his eyes.

"I want this to be over and done with quick. I'm exhausted already."

Sylus eyed you calmly, yet somehow it felt as if the depths of those red eyes were trying to assess your soul. "Your actions said otherwise. Is flirting with him necessary?"

"You're one to talk, Boss," you scoffed at the last word. "As long as it entertains me, why isn't it?"

Sylus didn't deign you with an answer, and you decided to pour more oil into it.

"Strictly professional, no?" You lifted your chin defiantly. "Last I checked, we were not supposed to meddle in personal affairs—"

You didn't realize it until he did, because the next thing you knew, his right eye suddenly glowed with that terrifying shade of crimson. "You—!"

He has seen it all. In the three years since he took you in, Sylus had never used his Aether Core-infused right eye on you to peek into your mind. The first and only time it had happened was when he restrained you from attacking him on the day you first met.

This was the second time. And now, he knows. Of your petty feelings, of your deepest, truest desire.

At first, Sylus remained silent, but then his eyes narrowed at you, low voice booming through the hall.

"Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Y/N."

And after all that he knew, that was the only thing he could come up with?

You felt shame wash over you. You wanted to run from him. This was too much because he most definitely didn’t reciprocate your feelings, did he?

"I don't want to hear it," you resolved, the space around you felt constricting all of a sudden. You walked past him, about to break into a sprint—

Sylus immediately caught a hold of your arm though, sending a glare at you. "You—"

"It ends here," you blurted in heat. "I don't want it anymore. We're through, Sylus."

"Listen to me!"

He snarled at you, and it was the very first time he did so. However, you paid him no mind and pulled out your ace card, staring hard into his eyes. You could feel the start of his black and red mist, but your Evol was faster—

"Move."

His hold on you loosened, and he jerked back several foot away from the impact. You kept your manipulation on him, avoiding his fury-blazed eyes, bolting away before he could catch you.

. . .

The night escalated so much worse than you had imagined. Explosions and a sudden appearance of an Arbiterwings threw the whole auction into chaos.

You were fighting off the sudden wave of wanderers alone, relying solely on your blade since your voice was too hoarse to use your Evol. When one of them struck you and sent you crashing into a wall, you just sat there in a daze.

It was exhausting. Usually, Sylus would be by your side, covering your back at the very least. He wouldn't let a single scratch get to you. His black and red mist of doom would dominate the battlefield, offering you protection while at it.

You loved that bastard. It was so beyond stupid. Why did you have to ruin everything by having these feelings? If your heart was gone, would these feelings go with it too?

You got your answer sooner than you thought.

White-hot pain engulfed you when something impaled you right in the chest. The searing agony was mind-blinding, the only thing you could discern was your own wails.

No, the feelings didn’t go. Even as you teetered on the brink of death, that damned love only evolved into many regrets.

And in your final moments, you could've sworn you felt the exact moment your heart stopped beating.

"Oh my god! Luke! She is here!"

"Kieran...! Is she alive?!"

"So much blood—! Luke, call Boss! Call Boss here!"

"Boss! We found her!"

"What do we do?! Shit! It's right... in her heart..."

"What!? Boss! S-she is...! Oh lord..."

You had a dream, and it was of your first meeting with Sylus.

Three years ago, in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you were a mere scavenger until he found you. You had thought he was a threat much like others in this lawless city, so you unwittingly showcased your Evol before him in defense, until he pinned you down on the hard ground, crimson eyes holding you in place.

"I'm giving you two options: go with me and live, or die here in vain," he had told you then, a smug smile on his face. "I assure you, so long as you're still useful to me, you won't have to worry about food or roof above your head ever again."

What kind of homeless person would refuse that tempting offer?

Since you followed him, Sylus had never been untrue to his word. He made good of his words, idly engaged you in his circle, showered you with gifts, and at one point—

"You're... trying to tempt me, aren't you?" he growled amidst kisses, pinning you on his desk. Apparently, seeing you up close and personal every day in his home had worn down his patience. He was just a man, after all.

You wickedly giggled, even breathless, cradling both sides of his face and admiring those ruby eyes of his. "What if... I am?"

"Then consider me tempted, little kitten," he chuckled, his baritone voice casting a spell over you. "Remember though, curiosity can kill most cats."

Thus began your thrilling relationship, and you knew you would gladly stay with him just to have a taste of that heaven. And you knew too, he wouldn't cast you easily this way.

And of course, so long as you are useful to him, that is.

When you came to, you felt warm, and your position was so comfortable that you were almost lulled back to sleep.

At first, it didn't register to you where you were. The scene before you was so familiar, but you were so lethargic that you were late to recognize it.

"Awake?"

Sylus' bedroom. The realization dawned on you as that deep, low voice questioned you flatly. You jerked instinctively, looking up at him as he came into view, holding a glass of wine.

He was still the same. Even with you out of commission, he would still indulge himself with his wine. Somehow you couldn't really pinpoint what you should feel about it.

However, Sylus then did the thing you didn't expect him to. He went back to his pantry to get a glass of water, and then he came to your side to prop you up.

"Drink," he commanded, positioning the glass on your chapped lips. You complied and did so, feeling relief for your throat. Once you were finished, he gently laid you back on the bed and tucked you in, never once taking his eyes off you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Have been better," you quipped dryly. Then it dawned on you that he had never been this gentle with you before. He was showing care, which confirmed one theory you had about him: Sylus could be considerate when he chose to be.

The very fact that you ended back here didn't really faze you much, because in the end, you belonged to him out of all people. Just one thing that still didn't make sense in your mind: "What did you do?"

His burgundy eyes squared at you. "What?"

"There’s no way I could've survived that," you mumbled, trying to gauge his reaction. "You must’ve done something."

“Ha, when it comes to these things, you’re sharp,” Sylus said with a light scoff, and you frowned.

"Answer me."

"Aether Core," he supplied. "It was now in you, repairing your coronary system."

"You..." you were rendered speechless. "You—what? You infused my heart with a Protocore...?"

Just like the one in his eye, he had implanted you with that dangerous fragment that was from something as horrific as a Wanderer. The very thought made your breath hitch.

"Stay calm," he commanded, his hand found yours when he noticed your horrified expression, squeezing it as if to provide some sort of reassurance. "You'll be fine."

"H-how... why..."

"That was your only chance, or you would’ve been dead." Sylus' tone was harsher now, his jaw set firmly. "I keep telling you not to rush in carelessly, and yet you did. Did you even know how bad your state was when I found you? No, you didn't."

The way he spoke made you feel as though you were being blamed, and overwhelmed with your frustration, you retorted sharply, "No one asked you to save me."

Awkward silence lingered for a good one minute after your jab. You turned away from him, feeling conflicted, because you knew you should be grateful that he did so, because it meant the Aether Core inside you now was the one he had been looking for in that auction.

He gave it up to save you.

Still, it confused you.

“If I died...” you began, bitterness creeping into your voice. “Then it just means I’m no longer useful to you. You always discard things that no longer serve your purpose.”

You turned back to him, meeting his impassive gaze. “So why? Did you pity me after discovering my feelings? Is that why?”

There are many labels in your relationship. Master and servant. Onychinus leader and his right-hand woman. But you were also his lover, even unsaid. Was that fact that did it? Or a mere charity for the weak, you?

Suddenly, Sylus placed his palm over your chest, right where your heartbeat pulsed. You stiffened, bracing for some sort of impact.

But no, it wasn’t anything sensual like he usually did. His hand—large and warm—was a comforting presence, resting on your chest and feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Haven't I told you that I never act out of pity?" Sylus' voice was strained but softer than usual, his deep burgundy eyes holding yours. "Do you really need me to spell it out?"

You didn't dare to look away, for the moment of truth was right in front of you.

"My only regret is not being able to pull you back," he said quietly, his tone somber. "I shouldn't have let you get hurt."

Oh. You blinked, taking in his sincere words, something inside you softening and warming at his words.

You had noticed it too. Despite his roguish exterior, he had always looked after you during your time together. It was just that you hadn’t dared to hope for more.

“The naughty little kitten has managed to worm her way into me, it seems,” he chuckled then, flashing you that cocky smile. “So now, she has to be held responsible for her actions.”

His red gaze narrowed as he added. “Moreover, since I have saved your life— you owe it to me not to throw it away so easily. So you can’t rush into danger carelessly again, you hear?”

Those playful remarks were enough to dispel your doubts and insecurities. They answered everything you had been questioning, and knowing it, finally you let out a relieved sigh and exasperated snort. “You shameless bastard...”

And when he leaned in to place a fleeting, innocent kiss on your forehead, you realized that, in his own way, he saw you just as you saw him, even if only a little.

Sylus settled into the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his arm. Tonight, there were no passionate kisses, no steamy foreplay, or dirty talks— just you being alive and well in his embrace.

“How long have I been out?”

“Three weeks, woman. Luke and Kieran keep mourning you everyday.”

“Three weeks?! How did you manage without me for that long?”

Sylus glanced at you, a contented smile on his face as he held you close. “It’s been horrid.”

Neither of you would be caught dead saying “I love you”, and yet, regardless, you knew that right this moment meant so much more.

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