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cursedbycain · 5 days ago

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agora hills - Yan x Lane (18+)

tagging: @rc-catalog

synopsis: kissing, i hope they caught us

tw: explicit sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), rated E

wc: 2.3k

Softening his grip on Lane’s hips, Yan softens the kiss and leaves only their lips touching. The wing chill strikes once more, and she burrows deeper into Yan’s coat. His grip tightens around her, chin resting on the top of her head.

With the crunch of snow, they break apart. Yan’s fingers grip her arm protectively as they glance towards the sound.

Lane barely processes Noah’s figure before he yells out in fear, stumbling and falling into the snow. Yan’s grip loosens as they exchange amused glances.

“It’s just you! Damn it I thought some abominations were standing there in the dark.” He huffs, irritated, as he stands up. Lane raises an eyebrow, pressing closer to the warmth of Yan’s body.

“What are you hiding here for?! I hope all your important bits freeze off!” The adrenaline from the fear clearly hadn’t left Noah as he scolds them. Yan rolls his eyes, holding her tighter as if to protect her from the cold.

“Yell like that and you’ll definitely attract something.” Yan notes, casting a quick glance to the sky.

Noah mutters a curse under his breath and turns back toward the building, trudging through the snow.

As the door shuts behind him, Yan looks back down at her. His expression shifts into something softer, more open.

“You’re probably freezing,” he murmurs, pulling the collar of her jacket up. “Let’s get you inside.”

Lane nods, teeth chattering now that the distraction is gone. Yan keeps hold of her hand the entire way back, even as they climb the stairs, even as they quietly enter one of the upstairs rooms. Only once the door is locked behind them does he finally let go.

She starts unbuttoning her coat with cold-stiff fingers, but he steps forward and covers her hands with his, gently taking over. She watches him silently, his eyes focused, his touch tender. When he slips the coat from her shoulders and drapes it over the chair, he leans down, pressing a single soft kiss to her collarbone, right where the air has touched her skin.

It’s not just affection. It’s a quiet way of checking her temperature.

He begins to shrug off his own coat while she sheds her outer layers. She moves toward the bed and crawls beneath the blankets, stripped down to a simple tank top and underwear. The cold makes her curl into herself at first, but the room is warming with their presence.

She doesn’t feel shy anymore. Not with Yan. Not with the way he looks at her.

He climbs in beside her, letting the comforter fall around their shoulders, and immediately pulls her into him. His warmth is soothing. Lane’s fingers drift to the bandage on his shoulder, tracing its edge. Her hand is feather-light and cautious.

“Does it hurt?” she whispers, barely louder than the hush of wind outside.

“No.” His voice is low, soft against her temple. “I can barely feel it.”

He lets go of her hand and slides his arm around her waist, tugging her closer until they’re fully pressed together. Her breath hitches in surprise at the sudden nearness. His body surrounds hers, heat sinking into her skin.

“This,” he murmurs, brushing her lips with his, “I can feel.”

She doesn’t get the chance to respond. He kisses her again, firm and searching, his hand slipping under the hem of her shirt, his fingers skimming her back. He shifts above her gently, moving until she’s on her back and he’s over her, braced with an arm at her side.

“You should really rest,” she mumbles against his mouth, her fingers drifting back to the edge of the bandage, hesitant again.

But he only smiles, playful and sure. “I am resting.”

With a sudden motion, he rolls them over, settling her fully on top of him. Her thighs straddle his hips now, and he grins up at her like he’s won something. Lane raises an eyebrow but can’t help the smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re impossible,” she mutters.

“I prefer irresistible.” He lifts his head to kiss her again, hands sliding under the back of her shirt, roaming slowly upward. The kiss deepens, turning messier. One of his hands glides up to cup her breast, thumb brushing over her through the fabric. She lets out a soft moan, and he groans in return, pulling her closer.

She sits up just enough to tug the tank top over her head, tossing it aside before lowering herself back down, their bare skin meeting in a new rush of warmth.

His hands cover her again, reverent and eager all at once. She feels the shift in him, the tension under his skin, the way he trembles slightly as he holds her, like desire and affection are too tightly woven to tell apart.

“We’re not on a loud plane right now,” he mumbles between kisses, voice rough with restraint. “So we might have to keep it down.”

For a second, embarrassment prickles at her chest. But Yan must feel the change in her, because he presses a kiss to her cheekbone, then the edge of her jaw.

“Not that I’d mind dealing with the aftermath,” he says, warm against her skin. “They’re just jealous anyway.”

Lane huffs out a breathless laugh, and Yan grins, lazy and a little smug, but honest. He kisses her again, deeper this time, and everything else fades until it’s just the heat between them.

Feeling bold, Lane starts to shift down Yan’s body. She moves deliberately, like she wants to map every inch of him with her mouth. Her kisses grow more lingering the further down she goes, tongue brushing lightly over old scars, the warmth of her breath ghosting over sensitive skin. Yan’s body responds before he can even speak, muscles tightening beneath her lips, thighs shifting under the sheets.

His hand, still resting in her hair, slips lower to cradle the back of her neck, thumb brushing over her skin like a silent encouragement. Not rushing, just a quiet tether between them. His other hand fists lightly in the blanket at his side.

When she mouths along the crease of his hip, he lets out a shaky exhale, low and strained, his body tensing for half a second before it relaxes again into something more vulnerable.

She pulls his boxers down with care, watching the way his breath stutters as the fabric leaves him exposed to the air. He’s already half undone, eyes fluttering open to find hers. There's something interesting in his gaze, desire mixed disbelief. Like this moment is something precious.

Lane curls her hand around him again, firmer this time, and Yan groans quietly, his head tipping back against the pillow. His jaw clenches, then slackens, the muscles in his abdomen flexing under her touch. She watches him, noting every little twitch, every soft sound he tries not to let escape.

And when she finally takes him into her mouth, slowly, her tongue smoothing along the underside of him, Yan’s fingers tighten reflexively in her hair. His hips jerk, just barely, as if he’s trying to stop himself from moving too much. He murmurs her name, broken and reverent, followed by a choked laugh that sounds like it caught him by surprise.

“Lane…” he breathes. “You’re… fuck.”

Her pace is unhurried, coaxing rather than overwhelming. One of her hands stays at the base of him while the other smooths up his thigh, grounding him with soft, circling motions. Every so often, she glances up to see the way his brows knit together, how his lips part and his chest heaves like he can’t quite breathe right.

He watches her, completely undone, his eyes half-lidded and heavy with affection. The rawness there makes her own stomach twist, not with nerves, but something deeper.

His hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing her skin as if in thanks. And when he gets too close, when his hips twitch again in warning, he mutters something soft, nearly a plea, as if even now, he doesn’t want her to take too much.

She lets him linger there, just on the edge, savoring every sound he gives her. When she finally slows and pulls back, she presses a kiss just below his navel, letting her hand stroke him a few more times with soft, reverent touches. He groans again, deeper now, reaching for her with open arms.

“Come here.” he whispers, voice wrecked and low.

She climbs up his body, and he pulls her into a desperate kiss, all warmth and gratitude and hunger. His hands frame her face, holding her close like she’s something sacred.

Tracing her body, his hands slide down until they reach her underwear. Hooking his fingers in the sides, he gently pulls the fabric down. She helps him toss the fabric aside, leaning in to kiss him deeply. His fingers skim the inside of her thigh, finding the spot that makes her gasp into his kiss.

Lane’s breath catches as his fingers brush her inner thigh again, a slow, teasing sweep that leaves goosebumps in their wake. His touch is light but deliberate, grazing over where she’s already aching for him. She gasps softly against his mouth, hips shifting without thought, chasing more friction. Yan groans under her, the sound rough and low in his throat.

“Sensitive?” he murmurs, voice ragged, lips brushing hers.

“Shut up.” she breathes, and kisses him again, harder this time. He smiles against her mouth, hands slipping up to her hips as she shifts to straddle him, knees on either side of his waist.

There’s a beat of stillness, quiet except for their breathing. Lane steadies herself with a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heart beneath her fingers. Yan watches her, utterly focused, eyes dark and filled with something like reverence. His hands slide up her thighs, anchoring at her hips, holding her like she’s made of something rare.

When she reaches down and guides him into her, they both inhale sharply. He sinks into her slowly, inch by inch, and the stretch makes her tremble. Her fingers dig into his chest as her head falls forward, her forehead pressing to his.

“God Lane…” His voice is a rasp now, broken and breathless. “You feel…”

He doesn’t finish. He can’t. His hands flex at her hips, like he’s struggling to stay still. She’s already shaking slightly above him, breath shallow, thighs tensing as she adjusts to the fullness.

When she starts to move, it’s slow, grinding her hips down in steady rolls, finding the rhythm that sends fire curling through her spine. Yan’s mouth falls open with a soft, wrecked sound. His head tilts back against the pillow, throat exposed, lashes fluttering.

Lane watches him like that, completely undone, and warmth floods her chest even as pleasure coils tight in her belly.

He meets her eyes again, and there’s something desperate in his gaze. His hands slide up her waist, fingers slipping under the curve of her breasts, as if needing proof that this is real.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he breathes. “You feel so-” His voice breaks off again, swallowed by a sharp gasp as she lifts and sinks again, deeper this time.

Lane leans forward, planting her hands on either side of his head. Her pace builds with every thrust, thighs beginning to ache, but she doesn’t care. Not with the way he sounds beneath her, not with the way his hands roam her body like he doesn’t know where to hold on first.

“Let me help,” he whispers, and sits up slightly, one arm bracing behind her back. The new angle draws a shocked moan from her throat, and he captures it with a kiss, swallowing her sounds as she moves harder now, needier.

The room is full of heat, skin against skin, mouths parting and reconnecting, breathless gasps and quiet curses shared in the space between them. Lane grinds down against him, chasing the friction she craves, her moans growing more frequent, more uncontrolled.

“There,” she breathes, nails dragging across his shoulder. “Yan-”

His name is all it takes. His hands grip her tighter, helping guide her movements as she rides him harder, more erratic now. He’s murmuring her name in return, lips brushing her ear, voice trembling.

“Come on,” he whispers. “Let me feel you.”

And when she does, when her body tightens around him and she shudders with a low, gasping cry, he follows seconds after, pulling out quickly with a ragged groan, burying his face in her neck as he holds her tight enough to shake.

They stay like that for a long, breathless moment. They’re tangled and spent, skin damp with sweat, hearts pounding against one another. Lane sags against his chest, her hair falling around both their faces. Yan cradles her head against his shoulder, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles over her lower back.

They lie there, skin to skin, breath gradually slowing. The air between them hums with afterglow, but the urgency is gone now, replaced by something quieter.

Yan shifts only to pull the blanket higher around her shoulders, then tucks himself in beside her, arms wrapped tight around her body. Lane lets out a soft exhale against his chest, her fingers resting lightly over his heart.

No words. Just the sound of the wind outside, the creak of old floorboards, and the warmth of his body pressed to hers.

She’s already half-asleep when he brushes a kiss across her temple, slow and lingering.

She sighs.

He holds her closer.

And together, they drift off into the kind of sleep that only comes after knowing you're exactly where you're meant to be.

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