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jaebumspetitegf · 7 days ago

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TASTEFUL BLISS

STARRING: nerd!sylus x reader

synopsis: you've been keeping your very huge, almost obvious crush on your best friend for a while and you're determined to make the most of the time you spend together. little do you know, he's also very determined to do the same especially when it comes to the fantasies you've openly shared with him. he's more than happy to give you just what you need. in exact detail.

warnings: porn with plot, lots of banter and confessions (for the fluff), marking, church sex, grinding, cunnilingus, dirty talk, body worship, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marathon sex. you freaks.

wc: 8,6k

an: I'M BACK!!! this is very loosely based off the 'witnessed by deepspace' banner, but mostly because i missed writing sylus. hope you enjoy!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You love nerds.

Love ‘em. Not only do they match just how clever you are, they have something about them that you always itch to unravel and claim as yours.

Which is why your eyes have been dead set on Sylus as your prey.

He is the definition of a standard nerd. Major in actuarial sciences with a sprinkle of business and general comp sci as his electives, he is considered one of the smartest people in his class and one of the hottest in the entire university.

Beneath you, of course. As modest as you try to be, and you should really start appreciating how beautiful you are, it is true that you’re considered one of the most beautiful people on campus. Pretty face, pretty smile, and an even prettier demeanour. It’s almost effortless. You’re just too pretty.

Not only that, you’re incredibly intelligent too. And it goes beyond marks. Even if you stumble a bit you always make sure you bounce back higher and stronger than before. It’s an admirable trait. That ambition and resilience is why Sylus is a close friend of yours.

You’re ogling him right now. You aren’t even trying to hide it. His eyes are locked hard on his laptop, typing away while those ruby red eyes of his occasionally twitch from the glare of the sun blaring into the window of the cafe you’re working in.

“You should wear those tinted glasses more often.” You hum, sipping on your drink through a paper straw. You hollow your cheeks, imagining what it would be like to hollow them while you— ahem. Not the time, you freak.

“It’s bothersome.” He briefly gestures to the mentioned glasses sitting next to his laptop. “If my eyes start acting up I’ll put them on.”

“They’re already twitching, big brain.” You slide his glasses closer to his hands. “Put them on before you have to get some kind of laser surgery.”

Reluctantly, Sylus slips the frames onto his face. They fit him so well, accentuating the shape and sun-exposed glow of his eyes, his sharp jawline, those pink heart shaped lips, his cheekbones, that one pimple you had begged to pop just a few days ago before he threatened to bite you… so fucking handsome.

“You’re staring.” A twitch of his lips curve into a small smirk.

Sylus may be your typical genius— and totally your type— but he is by no means an idiot. He’s always noticed your ‘stares of admiration’ as he calls it, but he avoided confronting it. Mostly because he wanted to see how far you’d go.

Too bad he’s already wrapped around your finger. He doesn’t even realise it yet! Well, he kind of does.

You’ve been working towards this for months. To be fair, you’d been friends with him for a while, supporting each other through your first two years of university for academics and then for companionship overtime.

One thing led to another and by one thing we mean a very short and very unintentionally intentional kiss, you two are now locked in for life.

“I like your face.” You grin, ignoring the heat rushing through your cheeks. One year ago, you would have made fun of him, telling him you can see his pores. Right now, you just want to tell him how beautiful he is. Then maybe kiss him in front of all the people in the cafe like a cringey movie couple.

Instead, you say “Makes me want to lick you.”

As expected, you receive a grimace then a short chuckle. “You’re so intriguing.” His eyes momentarily return to the code running on his screen before looking back up at your unwavering gaze. “I want to show you something.”

“Another vintage weapons museum?” You sigh with a smile.

He loves his vintage stuff. Vintage buildings, vintage vehicles, vintage everything. Sometimes he buys them and keeps them as collectibles. He’s got his quirks, as concerning as they can be, but that’s what you adore about him. He’s passionate.

“Not this time,” He stores away all his belongings in a leather bag with an unusual sense of urgency. “I think you’re tired of being stopped from touching old swords.”

“Why put them on display if I can’t touch it?” You huffed, joining him in his fast strides to his motorcycle.

Yeah, he has a motorcycle. He even invites you to his place to help (more like you watching) him do some repairs. You have a feeling he’ll do a bachelor’s in engineering after his current degree at the rate he’s going.

The drive to this mystery location was peaceful. You had no idea where he was taking you and no matter how many times you asked, Sylus would either poke the hand that was wrapped around his waist or just yell “You’re being a bit too impatient, sweetie.”

It was only when the engine died down did you glance up to see a very old, gothic looking building.

“An abandoned church?”

You can tell it hasn’t been touched in a while. The stained windows near the entrance had streak marks alongside layers of dust, probably being the only areas apart from the higher parts of the church that the rain managed to reach. Cobwebs cover the hinges of the large double doors that Sylus strides right over to in those leather pants you love so much.

The doors loudly creak open, giving you double confirmation that nobody has been around the area in years. Dust practically falls on your shoulders as the two of you walk in, bringing in a sight more beautiful than what is presented from outside.

Multiple wooden pews are aligned neatly from the entrance right, each one delicately carved with designs you can consider arcane. A large window, fragmented into different unequal pieces illuminate the altar with so many colours it seems like a large kaleidoscope. The structure is severed into arcs and divine shapes, creating a garden of intricate design as it the hands that made it created it with pure reverence.

The afternoon light peers through the stained glass, staining the dust and your skin with beams in several colours. You peer up to the ceiling and softly gasp at the sight of the paintings inscribed eternally onto the plafond. They’re intricate, delicately painted as if they were crafted by the greatest of artistic hands centuries before your very existence.

“When did you find this?” You ask with your neck still craned, mesmerised by literally everything in front of you. “How did you find this?”

You hear him softly laugh as his hands gently tilt your head down to lock into his gaze. “I came here on the way home after studying late.” He flicks your head at you muttering ‘nerd’ under your breath. “I’ve seen you study till sunrise, you mega nerd.”

“Sylus, you know I don’t that anymore!”

“Let’s wait until exams come along.”

“Fuck you.” Oh, would it be great if you could.

“Can I continue?” Sylus flicks your forehead, this time more gently. “It started raining on the way back and it got really bad. Obviously, I wouldn’t want to get wet so I stopped at the closest shelter I could see. Right here.”

You watch him look around to admire the temporary shelter he had found. You can see the appeal. The stained windows, the old organ on the altar, the narrow, carving embroidered path leading what you assume are the confessionals. It’s all so beautiful, and intricate.

You could do anything here in peace. Heh. Anything.

You also find a set of thick blankets and pillows laid near the altar, positioned specifically to be hit with the colourful light radiated from the stained windows.

“I ended up sleeping here,” He sheepishly smiles, averting his gaze briefly to your lips. “When I woke up, the rain droplets were on the large window and the way the beams of light collided only skin and in the air was just… beautiful. Almost as much as you.”

“Huh?” Your eyes widen slightly. Your cheeks burn as if the sun is right in your face. He said what?

“You’re beautiful.” Sylus says again with a small smile on his face. Not snarky. Not smug like he is with all the people that fawn over him. No, this one is serene, full of admiration and a hint of something much more. “I’ve told you this before.”

“Yeah, when I was in a literal pit and going through absolute hell.” You scoff, trying to turn your face away but his hands have been holding your cheeks the entire time. “I thought you were just saying it to make me feel better.”

“Why would I do that when you already know it’s true that you’re beautiful?” He pouts, raising a brow. “You are beautiful. And if you don’t want to hear me say that word, then you’re really pretty.”

“Sylus.”

“You’re really cool.”

“Sy.”

“You’re incredibly smart and empathetic.”

“Sylus, I get it—“

“You’re amazing, and I’ve always thought that you’re all those things. From the moment you wanted to be my friend— and it only amplified after we kissed.”

For some odd reason, your heart skips a beat hearing that slip through his lips. That kiss.

Neither of you were under the influence, under emotional turmoil, none of that messy stuff that turns something so intimate into something you’d want to hide.

Instead, it happened overlooking the view of the city. You two had gone on a joyride to take a break from studying, just to clear your heads. You were sitting close together, knees, thighs and hands touching, shoulders bumping and rubbing together under his jacket to keep you both warm.

You were talking about everything and nothing, recalling the early months of your friendships and helped each other through everything. You knew everything about each other and made sure to make it fun.

He told you he wanted to learn how to sing, even though it was really bad at that time. You told him you wanted to be more confident in your skin. You shared your vulnerabilities and soon a glimpse of your mutual desires.

One glance turned into another. A glimpse of your lips prolonged until your realised you were both leaning in with no intention to stop. And above the endless bustle of the city, you found peace in each other’s embrace.

It was soft. It was brief. It was gentle. His lips were soft, almost trembling with nerves before he moved with you even if it were for just seconds. You cradled each other’s faces with a care and level of devotion you would grant a small animal like a little crow or a kitten.

When you eventually pulled away, the memory, the sensation, the event simmered away with small— but not awkward— laughs and a change of the subject.

The event never found its way back into conversation. Until now.

“You’ve liked me that way this entire time?” You whisper, feeling a low bubbling of both hope, excitement and rage boil within you.

You have been crushing on him for so long that you were considered adding obliviousness to his list of nerdy traits. To realise that he had the same sentiments almost ticked you off. Maybe you were so drawn to him that you didn’t notice him pining over you the entire time.

“Yeah,” Sylus grins, exposing his cute gummy smile. You remember you used to force him to smile like that by tickling him until he started to attack back. “You were so enamoured that you barely noticed. Which makes more sense now, considering you so recklessly told me about your fantasy to get fucked in a cathedral. You thought I friend zoned you, giving you leeway to tell me your dirty secrets.”

Shit. Shit.

You’ve been telling him almost everything. Like when you were complaining about how your old vibrator was dying out on you so you needed to replace it. He helped you get a better one— walked around a sex shop with you for hours— and even offered to make one himself.

You nagged him about his smooching skills— the one other time you both referenced the kiss you shared— and somehow showed him pictures of all the hickeys you have received. You even gave him a very clear and descriptive visual of a position he was confused with from a book you were reading together.

You’ve told and shown him a lot of things you probably shouldn’t have, especially considering he’s your friend. But you had long accepted the fear that he wouldn’t return your feelings and chose to continue being his friend than to break your heart in the attempt to push it further.

Now that it’s confirmed that the feeling’s very much mutual, you are so insanely fucked.

“I’m going to start drinking.” You deadpan.

“No, you’re not.”

“I told you the freakiest things I wouldn’t even tell my best friend!”

Those pretty lips of his curve into a pout. “I thought I was your best friend.”

You paused in your panic. He is technically your best friend. “You’re my best friend in possession of a dick.”

Sylus narrows his eyes in suspicion. “I think you should admit that you’re so comfortable in our relationship that you’re open to say some of the most grotesque things around me.”

“If I admit that then you have to admit that you were planning this!” You arms flail in the air as you gesture to the church sheltering you. Again, you are very very smart, even if you don’t want to say it. You’ve been catching on to his little stunts from the start.

You invited him to study with you, knowing the weather would switch up by the time you finish your session. You wanted a cute cliche moment of sharing a jacket while running in the rain. Something to soothe and satiate your romance-hungry fantasies. Nothing too crazy.

What confused you on the joyride to this arcane infrastructure was how he knew when to start moving. He checked his laptop before he got up. He took routes that you didn’t know existed. It was almost like he was intentionally stretching the drive to get the timing right.

Also, you told him you wanted to get fucked in a cathedral. Your current location doesn’t stray far from your personal fantasy. Coincidence? You’d be foolish to assume so.

Thunder lowly rumbles from outside the church with soft patters of rainfall accompanying it. That nerd wanted you to be here exactly at this time.

“It was going to rain today.” You start, lips thinning into an irritated line.

“I checked the weather, and so did you.” That stupidly attractive smug smirk paints his face.

“I wanted to get you to stay at the cafe just until it started raining.”

“So you could get your cliche moment.” So he knew!

“You took me here to fulfil a fantasy I used to have.”

He gives you a knowing look. “You still want it.”

To be fair, it is still an active desire you have.

You’d spent some occasional nights driving your clit to overstimulation over the imagery of the two of you having a moment (at least two nights) of passion in this kind of place— as controversial as it seems. You’d spend your nights crying out his name in desire only for you to spend your days poking and prodding him as your friend and not someone you adore.

It’s still something you want.

“You fucking nerd.”

“You’re a greater nerd than I am.”

His hands are still cradling your face. His palms have small callouses, probably from all that boxing he does. Despite the roughness of his skin, he holds you so gently. With so much consideration and care.

“We’re both incredible.” You say, unable to pull away from his gaze. Not that you wanted to. “We’re both nerds.”

“Major nerds.” Sylus agrees. That beautiful smile hasn’t left his face.

Droplets of rain strike the large windows, filling the silence between you. The opportunity is right in front of you. He’s clearly more than willing to do what you want to do, or he wouldn’t have brought you here.

Do you stop him? Do you indulge? Or should you sprint and scream into that little pillow fort that you’re certain smells like him? Or maybe you should stop overthinking and notice that he’s starting to notice you panicking in your mind.

Sylus is smart. He’s so dangerously talented and multi-skilled. He’s so irritatingly kind and charming that you almost feel like an idiot for catching feelings so quickly. You don’t regret it, but making the move to pursue your very desires (which he has a good knack for catching) might just make your friendship something entirely different.

Eh, fuck it. You were going to snap eventually.

Pursing your lips together, you muster as much courage as you can grab before the special moment fades into another memory. “I’d like to kiss you again, Sylus.”

That small flicker of joy flashes through his eyes just long enough for you to catch it. His face stiffens for just a moment before his smile widens, exposing more of his cute, adorable gummy smile as his eyes crinkle, showing those lines surrounding his eyes made from exhaustion and all he times he’s laughed with you. “Really?”

“Really.”

Like back then, the endless gap of air and space becomes more narrow as you lean towards each other. Magnetised, enamoured, connected.

“I have always held my affections for you.” Sylus whispers, his coffee-touched breath tickles your skin as his thumbs ghost circles onto your cheekbones. “My heart has always beat a certain way in your presence, I have always spent my every breathing moment desiring you since we met.”

Your attempt to whisper your response ends with a soft gasp shared between you as your lips finally reunite.

It feels just as soft as it did before. Your arms slowly creep up his back to wrap around his neck and find comfort in his soft hair. You’d always brushed and played with his hair and he would always just allow you to. To feel it like this is something entirely new.

You move together in unison, hands shifting lower and higher in intervals as you find rhythm in your embrace. Aches of desire, both familiar and slightly inappropriate for the sentimental nature of this moment, set you in flames as your tongues begin to explore.

Breathing becomes a social construct and touch becomes your lifeline. Tasting him despite the remnants of caffeine attached to him drives you into a flustered frenzy, tugging at his locks unintentionally, relentless in your desire to feel him and hold him and adore him before it all turns into a dream.

Your lips pull apart after what feels like hours, your breathing heavy and thick with need. Sylus, eyes still partly closed, leans closer to you with the sole intention of attaching his lips to yours once more.

“Why pull away?” He rasps in that super hot husky voice that you only hear when you call him in the middle of the night.

“You should have let me talk about how much I like you.” You tease, pressing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

“It’s all in your eyes,” He smiles, cradling your skin with his calloused fingers. “You’ve always told me how you feel with them.”

If you thought you were a perv, Sylus is lucky you can’t read his mind.

And that you haven’t already noticed the raging boner poking through the fabric of his pants. The very set he knows you drool over.

Sylus has been very deliberate with his actions for a while now. The way he dresses has been to satisfy your tastes and match your outfits, the way he styles his hair has been to catch your eye every single time.

He made sure he walks with his back completely straightened to stand at his actual height— and not in the slouch that he has habitually claimed from curving over his laptop while typing away at the programs he makes. All for you.

He gets your favourite drink every Tuesday afternoon between lectures, he drives you to your apartment and has sleepovers with you whenever you don’t want him to leave (and neither does he).

All those intricate details and deliberate moves to subtly charm you were for this very moment, all those days of impressing you in his charm and all those nights of spilling hot strings of cum onto his sheets whilst moaning your name into the air— he’s a shameless guy, you see— were all worth it for this.

He might just cum in his pants right here and now.

Sylus wastes no time to kiss you again, this time with more hunger and need than before. He waits for your hands to wander, ghosting over the skin of his nape until you grip hard on his soft locks hard.

He groans into your mouth, giving you the opportunity to slip your tongue in, tasting him and feeling as much as you can before you lose your breath. It turns into a lustful dance, intertwining tongues, tastes mixing, desire building and burning to the point where kissing alone won’t just do it anymore.

Just as you pull away, his lips find new attachment on your neck to suck and lick away at your skin. You’re warm to the touch, if it’s not due to his mind being half gone already. What can he say? You’ve got him wrapped tight around your finger.

“Tell me what you want us to do.” Sylus murmurs into your neck, mouthing wet kisses into your flesh.

“Hm?” You’re too deep in your daze to think about what he said. It must be a dream come true. Sylus, your best friend Sylus, is kissing your neck. You can feel his hard on literally throbbing against you, hot and rock fucking hard.

You’ve seen him in less clothing than what friends should normally see, so you’ve always been aware of his huge bulge— which is something you always think about whenever you get horny— but now that you can feel it, it’s larger than you’d thought.

And now you get to have him all to yourself?! All that prep you did with your trusty dildo is finally coming to use! You could go into detail about how you’ve tortured your cunt to the thought of him but you’d rather pay attention to the nerd that’s busy sucking very dark, very visible hickeys onto your neck.

“Don’t haze out on me.” Sylus rasps. That just shoots shocks of pleasure down your spine. “What do you want us to do while we’re here?”

Oh, you have a lot of ideas in mind. Riding him on one of the pews while the storm rages outside as if you’re in some scandalous scene in a telenovela, having him eat you out in the confession booth until his face is covered nose to chin in your slick and cum, being entangled within those blankets near the altar—

It’s a very long, near endless list of ways you can take advantage of the opportunity you have in your hands.

“You’ll freak out if I say it.” You say instead, feeling heat warm up your ears. You’re not embarrassed, you just… feel a little nervous to talk about your fantasies now that you two are more than friends now.

“Perhaps I should guess then.” His hands wander to the hem of your top, gently raising it higher and higher until he feels your bra. “Maybe you want to start on the pews, riding me perhaps? Or maybe you want to warm up first in the confessionals, with me on my knees eating you out until you tell me to stop.”

Oh, that mouth of his is exquisitely filthy.

“Or perhaps you want me take you to every single corner I found here and paint each wall in our cum, and compose a symphony of our own noises of pleasure right on top of the organ.” His large hands cup your mounds, gently squeezing them like a horny teenager.

“Or maybe we should screw the logistics and fuck in every part of this place we can reach until we can’t think straight.”

Holy fuck, he’s profane. Your jaw drops as your brows deeply furrow in shock. You know he has a bit of a not-so-innocent innuendo to him, but this? How pussy throbbing.

“Surprised?” His lips curve into a sly smirk. He can tell that he’s riled you up.

“Just a little bit.” You tug at his white locks, relishing in the hushed moan that slips out of his lips. Your other hand explores his chest, ghosting your fingers over his pecs. “I like it. Didn’t expect you to be so… lewd.”

Sylus doesn’t respond. Instead he steps closer to you, closer and closer until he’s moving you as he walks towards the pews. His hands slither down to your waist, wrapping tight around you so that he can pick you up and gently straddle you on his lap.

The dimmed lighting creates a soft sparkle in those ruby eyes of his, completely amplified by the glasses loosely hanging on his nose. There’s just something about the way that he looks at you with a sliver of admiration… it makes your heart warm.

“We can stop whenever you want us to.” He says in a hushed tone, the warmth of his breath fans your lips with the afterscent of caffeine. “I’d never want you to feel like you must do something you aren’t fully up to.”

You shake your head, tapping his lower lip with your finger. It’s so soft and plush, you could fangirl about it for hours. “I want this. I want you.”

The kiss he engulfs you in is borderline orgasmic. He must be fucking starving from how quick his tongue slips through your lips. Your bodies move as if they’re in sync, hands wandering from hair to skin, from your necks to your chests until you reach the hems of your clothing.

You pull your clothes off as if it burns you until you’re both in nothing but your underwear, breathless from the rush of feeling each other skin to skin.

“Confessional,” You sigh into his lips. “Start there.”

To this day, you marvel at his strength— it’s almost inhumane. Sylus carries you in his arms effortlessly, his lips never leaving yours as he makes his way to the confessional standing parallel to the altar. It’s like he memorised every part of this place.

He gently sits you down all while dropping to his knees from how compact and tight the space is. There’s something that is just so appealing when it comes to Sylus being on his knees. You have a hunch that it’s the fact that he enjoys it.

“Got any confessions to make, Sy?” The way he looks up to you almost makes you cream on the spot.

His eyes are completely glazed over with lust and desire, irises shaking as if the light shining above you makes you look like an angel about the cleanse— preferably ruin— him. Your grip on his hair brings his gaze to roll slowly to the wooden ceiling of the confessional before your grip forces his attention back to you.

“What confession?” He husks, with a saccharine smile. He must be in heaven.

“Look how hard you are.” You tut, rubbing your foot between his legs, deliberately teasing his shaft. “Are you always like this when you think of me?”

The contact alone makes his cock twitch, pumping blood right down there. He’s practically soaking himself in precum from all that excitement, length swelling with insatiable need.

“Yeah,” He confesses, flushing bright pink all around his face. “Almost every night.”

“The only fair thing to do is repent, don’t you think?” You tease, subtly hinting your innuendo by shifting your hips lower to bring your soaked pussy clothed in lace (conveniently) to him.

“Mhm,” Sylus can feel himself salivating at the sight of you being utterly soaked. Just for him. The way the fabric of your panties were beyond saving, so much so that your essence dripped down to the seat you comfortably treated as your throne, it’s riveting.

More than enough for him to worship you for hours. Hell, if he told himself the day before that he’d be doing this, the past version would have scoffed. Look at him now. Lady Luck has most definitely granted him good fortune today.

“Should totally repent.” He affirms, eyes darting between your soaking pussy, his hands wrapped around your thighs, and that beautiful face of yours. This little play of words and desire is entertaining. “That’ll make you forgive my transgressions, yes?”

He could look at you for hours without losing his concentration. He would design code that would create all the weirdest hacks that would impress you. He would write love letters that would make Shakespeare spin in his grave just from how romantic and devoted they are. He would cook for you every day, but make sure you know that you’re the best meal he’ll ever have.

“Definitely.” You breathlessly nod, moving your hand from his soft white hair to caress his cheek. Your press down harder on his length, drawing out a pleasured hiss from him. “Best you get started before I get impatient.”

Without another word, Sylus sinks his head snug between your legs. His tongue darts out straight into you despite the barrier of your panties, tasting your warm slick like its holy water.

His eyes roll back into his skull, his tastebuds tingling in tandem with the throbs of his cock like you’re the first meal he’s had in months. Hearing your short yet audible moan only makes the feeling so much more divine.

His eyes flutter shut as he draws himself to lock in on the mission at hand: pleasing his goddess, you.

It’s really hard to keep your mind in one piece when all you can see and think of is the sight of your best friend on his knees, between your legs, sucking the juices out of your soaked underwear before he feasts on you properly.

Your hand twitches back to his locks, tightening in grip as out grow antsy for more. Droplets of your own slick spread up to his cheekbones from all that lapping, nodding and nuzzling, making it so much worse.

“Sy,” You whine, slithering his name in a lengthy moan. It barely registers to him that you’re trying to get to him. He’s already gone, already in deep.

His lips curl around your clothed clit and suck hard. His brows furrow in deep attentiveness as he sucks on your clit, drawing small circles with his tongue as roughly as he can to penetrate his ministrations through the barrier of lace between you.

Something about that friction just works so well that your toes curl. “Sylus— fuck— take it off.”

Between his muffled groans, Sylus presses a hot kiss on your clit before pulling away. “You’re disturbing my repentance, sweetie.”

Oh fuck.

You gulf as he rises to his feet in the too-small booth until he hunches over you. Firstly, you want to hear him calling you that more often. Secondly, the very first thing you see in front of you is his cock straining against its confines, thick, huge, and leaking.

You must be drooling from how long your jaw dropped. You had a feeling that he would be big from all the times you’d seen him in sweatpants, but damn. You’re kind of glad you invested in a dildo.

It takes so much willpower to look away from that Herculean girth in front of you and when you do, you meet his hazed gaze that teases you with a knowing look accompanied with his signature smile.

“Don’t start.’’

“You like it?” You both speak in chaotic unison, only to magnify the irritation painted in your expression and the smug flattery in his.

“I think you like it.” Sylus hums, gently gripping your hips to help raise them. With your hands gripping on the seat beneath you to secure your position, Sylus hooks his fingers around your lacy garments and pulls them down with a swift tug.

The cold air hits your open cunt like a gust of wind, making your legs shiver. The sound of a gentle patter on the floor catches your ears, bringing you to see his underwear on the floor with yours.

“It’s only fair that I do it too.” Sylus answers before you even start. You know each other that well, answering each others’ questions before you even think of it.

“Is there anything else I should do?” He asks as he returns to his knees, this tie hooking your knees over his broad shoulders. Your lips part to say something, anything, with a bite but you’re rendered speechless. “No? Alright.”

Sylus plants his head between your legs once more, licking a long stripe down your thigh just before he touches your folds. Hot, wet kisses travel around your pussy, all the way to your clit without truly giving you what you want.

Such a tease.

“Did you know there’s thousands of nerve endings here?” He muses, darting his tongue around your clit so lightly that you can only feel the burning tease of his touch. “Of course you do, you abuse this poor thing with your vibrator.”

Soft whines slip out of you lips before you can stop them. You can barely do much other than squeeze his head with your thighs, but it’s looking like that only riles him up more.

“Since my hands are out of commission at the moment,” Sylus says, patting your thighs gently. “How many times do you think I can make you cum with my tongue?”

“No more than twice.” You try to scoff, but it comes out more like a whine you tried to swallow.

“Is that a challenge?” He grins, nuzzling his head into your thigh all while keeping his crimson gaze on yours. You can tell he’s slipping despite his confidence, if not that then his reddened cock bobbing between his legs is a dead giveaway.

“I’ll aim for three.” His tongue travels back down slowly to your pussy, lapping up your dripping essence. “Just to be spiteful.”

All that teasing from earlier goes right out the window when he dips his tongue right inside you, enveloping his tastebuds in nothing but your taste. A melody of your moans bounce off the walls of the confessional from the mutual pleasure.

His tongue goes as far as it can, caressing and pressing hard against your walls, moving back and forth and curling like he’s looking for something within you. His brows are knotted, eyes blissfully closed as he worships your fluttering cunt.

The noise is so obnoxiously loud and wet that it almost outdoes your own. Your nails dig into his scalp as his tongue finally curves just right, getting as close to your most sweetest spot as his tongue can reach.

“Sylus!” Your back arches into him, receiving a muffled grunt in return. His tongue circles around your entrance, lapping up all the slick that attempts to drip down away from his reach.

He has no intention of wasting what you give him. Each slurp and lick comes with a kiss to your folds until he’s practically making out with your pussy, tasting, teasing, and pleasing you all at once. It all burns so good that you can already feel that familiar, back-arching tingle subtly creep in.

“I could stay here forever, making you feel so good.” His rambles, sounding slightly incoherent from all his ministrations. His grip on your thighs tighten as he glances down to his aching cock. Watching it twitch and drip all that precum in desperation just reflects his own need for you.

“You taste so damn good.” He licks a long stripe from your cunt to your clit, circling around your bud with the tip of his tongue. “You sound like heaven.” It’s almost too much to not to do anything, so much so that his hips start to grind his cock against the surface you sit so beautifully on for some satiation to his arousal. “Wanna drown in you, sweetie. Won’t you let me?”

Just as you’re about to respond, Sylus suckles hard on your clit in pulsating intervals so erotically well that it brings you to your first climax. Your toes curl, your thighs tighten around his head without restraint, and your eyes roll back until your vision is spotted with sprinkles of light between the darkness of your skull.

A sharp, lewd cry of his name flows right into his ears from your kiss-swollen lips as hot waves of pleasure hit you with each harsh suck that he gives your clit. He’s just so close and attached to your clit, both through his own strength and you literally holding him there mid-orgasm, that he’s more than ready to happily stop breathing between your legs.

There can’t be any joy better than this.

Other than the painfully slow grinds he teases his cock just enough to keep himself at bay. One glance down and he’d see his cock almost completely soaked from all that leaking. He can feel his pulse thump and throb right there as he twitches violently from the lack of contact.

Just a bit longer. You come first.

Which you already did. But he still needs two more before he can even think of his own needs.

You’re whining his name like you’re about to cum again, clawing your nails down his nape and tugging at his hair, confused between whether you should push him away or pull him closer.

“Sylus, wait— Sylus!” You can barely think of what you’re supposed to tell him from that overwhelming pleasure. You can just feel the second one creeping in fast like a storm and it’s clear that Sylus won’t stop until he achieves it.

His tongue flicks back and forth over your sensitive bud, carelessly rutting his cock up and down to capture new flickers of your carnal responses. The way you’re tugging his hair makes him whimper. The way you whine his name burns a sense of pride in him. The way you pull his hair to you fucking yourself on his face, he relishes in it all.

The second orgasm comes in stronger than the first. Your thighs are trembling in his grip as your cries hit a higher pitch. Your eyes, too far gone up your skull, might just reach crossing territory at this rate. If you grab his hair any tighter, you might end up ripping it off. And still, he just doesn’t stop.

“Sy,” You pant, trying to writhe away from the overstimulation he’s driving into you. “That’s two, you can—“

“I said three.”

“C-Come on, Sy!” You gasp, feeling your breath catch in your throat from his titillating gaze.

Half of his face is completely drenched in your slick with some dripping down his chin. Your legs move up and down with his body from all that grinding to soothe his aching cock. He just can’t stop, can he?

“Three.” He presses a hot kiss on your pussy, nuzzling your clit with his nose despite how violently your thighs tremble around him.

“Too much!”

“Three.” His tongue swirls around you, slurping up everything you generously give him while his moans get louder with yours. It looks like he’s about to cum too.

“Sylus— f-fuck— please.” You whine as your fingers curl around his soft locks like second nature. The aftershocks from your previous orgasm are still pulsing through your body, adding onto the endless pleasure burning through your veins and flesh.

“You can do it, sweetie.” Sylus hums into your heat, softly whining from your scent. “Just one more.”

Just one more.

It all blends together until you can barely tell where pleasure begins or ends. Your head leans against the wooden wall, seeking cool air as a relief of all the pleasure-driven heat burning you up. It’s still too hot. Too full of your moans and cries, his groans and whimpers, and the tasteful stickiness in the air from your joint arousal.

You can barely muster a single word when the third finally hits you like the skies falling upon the earth. Your back sharply arches as your eyes cross over completely, ripping out a blissful moan from your lips. Your legs straighten as your body tenses, unable to comprehend anything other than the pleasure and relief his tongue gives you.

Finally satisfied with his work, Sylus grants his cock the attention it needs, grinding faster and harder as his tongue helps you ride out your orgasm. But he doesn’t allow himself the pleasure of cumming— not yet.

By the time you’ve calmed down enough to have some level of comprehensive thought— and finally released your death grip on the poor man— the first thing you see is a goofy smile plastered on his face.

“See?” His smile widens, glistening with your slick and cum. “You can handle it.”

You’re far too exhausted to give a snarky response, or any at all. He definitely takes note of it.

“We can stop here—” Sylus begins, readying himself to carry you out of the stuffy box of a confessional, but you smack your palm on his forehead.

“Who said I wanted to stop?”

He looks dizzy with excitement just from hearing that and picks you up in his arms as if he wasn’t on his knees for so long. Just how much stamina does he have?

The walk, more like pace, to the makeshift bed is quick. So quick that you barely realise he’s gently set you down like he’s about to tuck you in. Reaching behind you, he pulls out a large box of condoms and swiftly takes one out, shining bright in its packaging.

“Sy, you do know I’m on the pill, right?” You ask, watching him set the foil between his teeth.

“Of course I do.” He hums as he rips it open, letting the condom fall into his palm. “But you did mention in your very detailed fantasy that you wanted to end the night with multiple used condoms all over the floor.”

There is no way he remembered all those details.

“It’s only fair that we fulfil each and every portion of what you want, right?” He slowly pumps his cock to get it harder, as if it isn’t already in that state, and slips the sheath down his shaft.

“You’re terrible.” You groan, covering your face. Maybe that will save you from embarrassment.

His hands caress yours with tender affection. “Do you want us to continue, sweetie?” He asks as he brings your palm to his lips for a gentle peck. “We don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

He’s too sweet. So gentlemanly that you can’t stop the smile spreading from ear to ear on your face. “I’m more than ready.”

No other words need to be shared for Sylus to align his cock with your pussy. He taps the tip on your entrance, once then twice to tease, before gently pushing in.

Since you’re already soaked (times three), he practically slips in like a hand into a perfectly fitting glove. His girth and pressure of something so beautifully warm and big being inside just brings that delicious burn that makes you both hold your breaths.

Your hands lace together as he sinks in deeper and deeper until he’s fully bottomed out, hip to hip and skin to skin. You both deeply exhale, keeping your gaze on each other to make sure you’re okay.

Just the slightest twitch shoots jolts of pleasure up your spine just from how good he feels inside you. Nothing could beat this feeling. Nothing could ever defeat being like this with him. Goodness, it’s all just too good.

And then he moves.

He pulls back nice and slow until his tip is all that’s inside you, then thrusts right into you with little patience to spare.

Your eyes flutter shut from being filled with him once more, then again and again in a rapidly moving pace until your hand reaches for his back to paint with scratches while the other claws at his hair. Anything to keep you grounded while he presses you into the makeshift bed.

“You like how this feels?” Sylus grins his famous smug grin, sliding his hand to your breasts to fondle and tease. With a quick peck on your permanently parted lips, he lowers his head to trap your hardened nipple between his teeth.

“F-Fuck,” You half-sigh, half-moan into the cold air. His tongue circles around the bud, teasing and suckling you all while his gaze is locked on your beautiful face.

Each whine, each gasp, and each loud and lust-soaked moan that leaves your mouth is committed to memory just so he knows exactly how to please you. His cock is practically begging for release from how hard it throbs as he pounds his hips into yours, but he doesn’t want to yet.

He wants to feel you suffocate his cock from how good you feel around him. Between his relentless torture on your tits and romantically filthy pumps of his cock into your cunt, he can’t tell which is more blissful to do. Maybe both.

That’s definitely the case for you.

All that overstimulation from his tongue torturing your clit has left you weak and overly sensitive in all the good ways. Your walls flutter with every single time your bodies collide, smacking loudly from your slick spreading all over you and mixing with the layer of sweat coating your skin.

The otherwise silent infrastructure sings the echoes of your lovemaking both shameless and divine, almost overpowering the rumbles of thunder striking the skies beyond the shelter of your sanctuary. Sylus groans loudly, licking his way up your chest, between your collarbones until he reaches the corner of your lips.

“I won’t last long, sweetie,” He grits in the midst of a rougher thrust into your squelching pussy. It almost aches him to hold himself from moving faster and harder despite you sucking him in every time he moves back.

His face is completely flushed red, crimson eyes glazed over with bliss solely from watching your face contort in the pleasure he gives you. The tight squeeze of your walls almost suffocating his length is riveting, maddening.

“Good,” You huff into his neck, mouthing hot, wet kisses onto his cheek and nipping him with your teeth. “‘M close too.”

All that overstimulation from him eating you out is more than enough to tap out, really. But something about the way Sylus stares at you… as if he knows what you truly desire and is more than happy to give it to you. How can you possibly deny yourself such pleasure?

The squelches of his cock and claps of wet skin fill your senses, blocking out everything until there is only you and him, you and him, and the insatiable burn that consumes you both into oblivion.

You’re almost certain his back is completely red and tainted with lines from your scratching. Your throat grows hoarse with every moan, whimper, and cry that you two share, each being louder than the last.

It’s so lewd, so risqué, and yet it makes you writhe and arch in ecstasy.

“Sylus,” It’s almost second nature to whisper his name into his skin as if you’re casting a spell on him.

“I’m here, sweetie,” Sylus croons before he captures you in a lascivious kiss, slipping his hand down between your colliding hips to torture your long neglected clit.

The contact immediately maximises the tension building deep within your core, crashing over like waves hitting the shore.

Your vision goes completely white as a hot stream rushes up your spine. Pleasure becomes tangibly infinite, forcing all your senses to kneel and submit to the orgasmic waves pulsing through you. You can’t tell if you’re even making a noise at this rate even though your throat burns.

Your walls clench so hard on his cock that Sylus’ climax hits him like a train, bursting ribbons of thick cum into the condom over and over again until all he can feel is his own hot seed against the barrier of your warmth.

Your bodies move in a carnal dance as you ride out the pulses of your senses going on overdrive. It feels like hours before you can think of anything other than Sylus. Anything other than how he feels, how he sounds, and how he just gave you one of the best orgasms you’ve had in months.

“You okay?” You croak, patting his sweat-dampened hair. He merely nods— or rather nuzzles, since he’s barely moving— with his forehead stuck on yours. The only noise he can muster is an adorable mixture of a whimper and a groan.

The soft grunt he makes sounds like a mirrored question. Are you okay?

Especially after getting your shit rocked by your best friend, who admitted he really likes you and knows you like him. Especially after having one of your most prominent fantasies fulfilled by the very person you wanted to do it with.

Are you okay?

“Yeah,” You close your eyes in bliss and nuzzle him back with as much strength as your body can give. “I feel great.”

You barely give yourselves time to rest, not even for a moment. Freaks. “Again.”

That must have been a buzzword because his cock immediately hardens in an instant. Sylus shoots up to sit on his knees and slowly pulls out to see the condom full, full, of cum.

“You don’t have to tell me twice, sweetie.” He’s quick to tie it into a knot and throws it away to grab the one of the many that you will be using up.

Watching him reach for the condoms beside the bedding, you weakly lift yourself to rest on your forearms. The sight of the setting sun shining specks of colour onto his glistening form is so ethereal that you’d assume he’s an angel. He must be if he gave you all those orgasms.

“Remember when you told me about that other fantasy you have?” He asks, sliding the sheath down his cum-slick cock. His grip is tight on the base to keep it from jumping but its violent twitches are a dead giveaway of his insatiable arousal.

“Which one?”

“The more exhibitionist one,” Sylus prowls over you once more, raising your legs to his shoulders to peck and caress. “Where did you want it to be? Ah, yes. A party."

You seriously need to stop telling him these things.

“Don’t remind me, Sy.” Your groans of embarrassment are greeted with more affectionate kisses and love bites all over your skin.

“A house party, right?” He slowly pushes your legs down until they connect with your chest, folding you over into a gentle yet strong mating press. You can just feel the heat of his cockhead slipping in and out of your cunt.

Too aroused to even speak, you nod with a mischievous grin painting your face.

“Good.” Gentle yet fast is how he slides back in like he never left, making sure you feel every aching part of his cock reuniting with your pussy. “A friend of mine is hosting one next week. Let’s make that desire of yours come true once we’ve ruined this place.”

Yeah. You love nerds.

All works belong to thalwri. Do not copy, translate, or repost my works.

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jaebumspetitegf · 7 days ago

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250814 BAEKHYUN INB100 Twitter Update Fan Sign Event: YES24 ✍️ & Whoop Japan 🤳 It's been a while since we met in person and through video calls, our Eris💖 It was so nice to see you and thank you for the fun time!! Have a nice holiday 🌿✨

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jaebumspetitegf · 7 days ago

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L&DS Boys - twt links 🔞

🔥Warning: 🔞, MDNI Posting again because they take down the other. Please support me lol

Caleb after being away for so long, he needs to taste your pussy so badly

Caleb fucks you good with the view from his apartment in Skyhaven

You're trying to see the information Jenna sent you about your new mission, but Caleb can't keep his hands off you and he's still hard even after he came.

You and Sylus can't take a shower together

Rafayel loves to tease you until you both can't take it anymore

Xavier brought a toy to play with you, but he ended up liking it a little too much

Zayne is big but you can fit in, right?

Zayne loves your body so you put on a little show for him

Xavier loves it when he's putting it behind you and you don't know where to hold on

You were shy about getting on top of Sylus, but after you tried it, you couldn't hold back anymore. He loves watching you use him for your pleasure.

Rafael loves it when you're a little dominant with him and use him as a seat

Caleb fucking you slowly and feeling every part of your tight pussy

Xavier hitting you slow and deep

Check the masterlist to see other posts like this

If my account disappears after that, you already know why 🤣🤣

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jaebumspetitegf · 7 days ago

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Absolute Zeal, (Part 2/3)

Zayne x Reader

The morning after your first time, Zayne can’t get you off his mind and is counting the hours to get home from Akso Hospital so he can take his time with you…Sober.

Word Count: 13k

18+ Warning: explicit content--no minors!--fluff, smut, oral sex, he gets himself off while you sit on his face

Part One

My Zayne Masterlist🩵AO3 link🩵Ko-Fi

Zayne exhaled slowly as he walked down the sterile corridor of Akso Hospital, struggling to shake off the memories of the night before. Normally, he was the picture of composure; calm, controlled, disciplined; but today he felt anything but composed. Last night’s events clung to him like a second skin, a warm flush creeping up his neck whenever his mind wandered back to you and the way he had utterly lost himself in you. He was still having trouble believing just how intense he’d been. The alcohol in that decadent chocolate candy you’d shared with him had hit harder than he expected, loosening restraints he usually held iron-tight. He had been…Feral, in his need for you. A wave of heat bloomed in his cheeks at the vivid memory of how eagerly he’d taken you, how he’d practically devoured you once they tumbled onto the couch. It was far from the slow, controlled lovemaking he had intended to give you; and the realization made him inwardly wince with self-reproach.

As he reached the door to the staff locker room, Zayne mentally chastised himself for his lapse. I should have taken my time, he thought, jaw tightening. He should have been slower, more in control. You deserved better than him losing control to drunken passion and taking you so urgently. He let out a soft groan of frustration under his breath. You should have made love to her slowly, carefully, the way you promised yourself you would. Instead, he’d been carried away on a tide of lust and spiked chocolate. The embarrassment gnawed at him, and yet, despite all his rational admonishments, a part of him was undeniably happy. Treacherously, that part of him kept replaying how good it had felt to finally let go, to have you completely. And more importantly, how you had welcomed it.

Zayne pinched the bridge of his nose briefly as he changed into his scrubs. You hadn’t judged him at all for his intensity; if anything, the way you’d clung to him, the soft cries of pleasure and the gentle scratches of your nails on his back, had pleaded for more, not less. When you both woke up entangled in each other that morning, both a little shy in the light of day, you hadn’t looked upset or fearful. You’d given him a small, bashful smile that simultaneously melted his heart and set it racing all over again. He’d felt relief crash over him seeing that smile. The awkwardness of the morning after was made sweet by your understanding; you weren’t put off by how fervently he’d loved you last night. If anything, you seemed just as flustered and fond as he was.

That knowledge should have calmed him. It did calm the worst of his fears, but it didn’t stop him from thinking about you constantly. Now, as Zayne started his workday, he already missed you. It was absurd; he had kissed you goodbye only a couple of hours ago, leaving you with one last tender peck on the lips and a promise to see you tonight. Yet here he was, walking through the bright halls of the hospital, and all he could think about was how endearing you’d been that morning. He recalled the two of you fumbling through the early sunlight filtering into his bedroom: him offering to make coffee with a voice still husky from sleep, you ducking your head with a shy laugh when your eyes met across the kitchen. You’d both been a little timid, a little unsure how to act in the morning light after a night of such raw intimacy. Remembering it now brought a subtle smile to his lips. The moment had been awkward, yes, but adorably so. And the unspoken relief in your eyes, that he hadn’t scared you off with his passion, had lifted a great weight from his shoulders.

Zayne tried to focus on that relief as he made his way to the cardiac wing, clipboard in hand. He had patients to see, charts to review, a job to do. This was the environment where he normally thrived, where his mind snapped into sharp focus. But today, his thoughts kept drifting into daydreams of you: the way you’d felt nestled against his side when he woke before the alarm, or how you’d blushed when he murmured good morning and kissed your forehead. Stay focused, he told himself firmly, squaring his shoulders. Easier said than done.

During morning rounds, one of Zayne’s fellow doctors struck up a conversation as they walked between patient rooms. Dr. Chen was talking about an upcoming medical conference in a few weeks, something that would normally interest Zayne. He tried to listen, he really did, but he found his mind wandering as Dr. Chen’s words faded into the background. Instead, he was picturing you again, imagining what you might be feeling right now. Did you feel as shy and giddy as he did remembering it? He could almost see you biting your lip the way you did when you were nervous, that same expression you’d worn when you parted ways this morning.

“Dr. Zayne?” Dr. Chen’s voice and a gentle nudge on his arm snapped him out of his reverie.

Zayne blinked, realizing he’d completely missed a question. Heat crept up his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, clearing his throat.

“What was that?” His colleague gave him a curious once-over, and Zayne mustered a polite, if distracted, smile to mask his inattention.

Dr. Chen repeated the question, something about whether Zayne planned to present any research at the conference. Zayne answered automatically, a bland yes, and quickly steered the topic back to patient matters. As Dr. Chen moved on, seemingly none the wiser to Zayne’s preoccupation, Zayne let out a silent sigh. Small talk had never been his favorite, but today it felt downright impossible. His mind simply refused to stay on trivial chatter when it could wander back to you instead.

He chastised himself for the lapse. This was exactly what he was afraid of—personal feelings interfering with work. He needed to get his head in the game, now. Luckily (or unluckily for his overactive imagination), the next item on his schedule demanded the entirety of his attention: an open-heart surgery scheduled before noon. If anything could force him to focus, it would be cracking open a chest and holding a beating heart in his hands.

In the operating room, the world narrowed to familiar essentials: the steady beep of monitors, the gleam of surgical instruments under bright lights, and the rhythmic sound of his own breathing behind the mask. For a while, it worked. Zayne immersed himself in the procedure, guiding his team through the well-practiced choreography of a bypass surgery. His hands were sure and steady as he made the incision, his mind cool and clear while he repaired the damaged vessels. By the time he was closing up, he almost believed he’d succeeded in compartmentalizing his personal life entirely.

But temptation struck at the worst time; just as he was suturing the final layer of muscle. In the relative quiet of the OR, with only the soft hum of machines as background, his traitorous mind slipped. A fragment of memory surfaced: your voice, whispering his name in that breathless, broken way you’d done when he was buried deep inside of you. “Zayne…” The phantom echo of your moan resonated so vividly in his head that for a split second, his vision blurred and his hand stilled.

The needle in his grip hovered millimeters above the tissue, not moving. One of the nurses glanced up in curiosity at the hesitation. A half-second later, the anesthesiologist cleared his throat, drawing Zayne back. Zayne’s heart lurched. He hadn’t even realized he’d paused. Thankfully, nothing catastrophic had happened; it had only been a one-second slip. He clenched his jaw, forcing the intrusive thought out of his head, and resumed the suturing with renewed focus. His movements were perhaps a touch more brusque now, fueled by annoyance at his own lapse. He finished the surgery without further incident, but the damage to his pride was done.

As soon as he was able to step away and let the junior surgeons handle the dressings, Zayne retreated to the scrub room. The moment he was out of sight, he ripped off his mask and cap, tossing them onto the counter, and braced his hands on the edge of the sink. His shoulders rose and fell with each deep, steadying breath he took. In the mirror, his reflection stared back with a mixture of disbelief and frustration. What the hell was that, Zayne? he berated himself silently. He had never lost concentration like that during a procedure. Not once in all his years of training and practice. The fact that it had happened now, because his mind was wandering to a woman, to you, made him equal parts furious with himself and anxious. He could have made a mistake.

He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, the way he coached anxious residents to do. Calm down. Focus. The surgery had ended fine, the patient was stable. No harm done—except to his own confidence. He needed to get it together. He needed to tuck all those enticing, maddening thoughts of you into a box and seal it shut until the workday was over. That was what a professional would do. That’s what he would normally do.

Zayne pushed away from the sink and began scrubbing his hands clean with methodical rigor, as if he could wash away the distracting thoughts along with the traces of the operation. But even as he lathered his arms, he caught himself replaying the exact moment that had nearly unraveled him: that sultry whisper of his name that his memory had conjured so cruelly. His body remembered it too. A ghostly shiver rolled down his spine at the thought, stirring an unwelcome warmth low in his belly.

No. He shook his head sharply, flicking water off his fingers. This was getting out of hand.

“Pull yourself together,” he murmured under his breath, brow furrowed in determination. Don’t let this interfere with your work. He repeated that mantra a few times, as if sheer willpower could beat back the flood of desire threatening to seep into every corner of his mind.

By early afternoon, the acute adrenaline of surgery had faded, leaving Zayne with a stack of paperwork and reports to occupy him. He almost welcomed the mundane task of dictating case notes and signing forms—anything to keep his brain busy. For a time, it helped. Seated at his desk in the quiet refuge of his office, he managed to immerse himself in writing post-op instructions and updating patient charts. The familiar medical jargon and clack of his keyboard were comforting, each completed form a small victory of focus over distraction.

Yet even here, in the solitude of four walls, you found him. Or rather, his thoughts found you again. Zayne had just finished the last line of a report when his gaze drifted to the small digital clock on his desk. Two more hours until he could leave. Only two hours, he told himself, and a tiny smile tugged at his lips unbidden. Two hours until he would see you. Immediately, his mind filled itself with an image of what awaited him: your face from last night, flushed with bliss.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes momentarily unfocused as the recollection washed over him. He could see it so clearly — the way your cheeks had gone rosy, a delicate pink that spread down to your neck and chest as you trembled beneath him. The look in your eyes when you’d gazed up at him in the dim light of his living room…It was burned into his memory. You had looked at him like he hung the moon, with complete trust and raw desire. And your mouth; he remembered how your lips had parted to cry out his name when you came undone, how utterly beautiful you’d looked in that moment.

A harsh pang of longing shot through him. He missed that face, that expression, as if it had been weeks instead of mere hours. Without warning, his body responded to the vivid memory. A tight heat coiled in his lower abdomen, and Zayne shifted in his seat, startled to feel the faint stirrings of arousal. A flush of irritation and embarrassment coursed through him. Oh, for God’s sake…Here? He thought, mortified. The last thing he needed was to be sitting in his office with a hard-on just from thinking about you.

Clenching his jaw, Zayne sat up straight and willed the heat to subside. He dragged a hand down his face, the cool touch of his fingers against his eyes a slight relief. Maybe some water would help. He reached for the glass on his desk and took a long sip, trying to imagine the liquid dousing the flames inside him. It only helped a little. The stubborn thrum of desire was still there, pulsing annoyingly with each heartbeat.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. If thinking about you set him on fire, then he needed to think about something as far from you as possible. Something clinical, something dry; literally anything un-sexy. He let out a slow breath and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to recite one of the many pieces of medical trivia he had memorized over the years. First, the sequence of the cranial nerves: Olfactory, Optic, Oculomotor…When that didn’t quite do the trick, he switched tactics and envisioned a page from an old anatomy textbook. In his mind’s eye, a diagram of the female reproductive system appeared, all labels and sterile descriptions. Uterus, ovaries, fallopian tubes. He tried to focus on the latinate terms, the clinical precision of it all, anything but how intimately familiar he now was with the real thing, with your body warm and responsive under his hands.

It was absurd, maybe, but after a minute or two of this mental exercise in detachment, Zayne felt the flush of arousal slowly, mercifully ebb. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Good. Back in control. The last thing he wanted was one of his colleagues walking in and catching him in such an unprofessional state. He could just imagine Dr. Howard barging in to discuss a patient and—Nope. Don’t even go there. He gave himself a little shake, as if physically dislodging the lingering lust.

With his composure somewhat restored, Zayne straightened a pile of charts on his desk and allowed himself a tiny rueful smile. Who would have thought he would ever need to resort to boring himself on purpose just to keep it in his pants at work? If someone had told him a month ago that a woman would do this to him, he would have scoffed. Yet here he was. You had thoroughly upended his world—and, he had to admit, he didn’t hate it.

He glanced at the clock again. Just a little longer. The thought of seeing you in a couple of hours sent a flutter through his chest. Beneath the impatience and the restless desire, there was a growing sense of eagerness that had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with you. He missed talking to you, hearing you laugh, simply having you near. Zayne ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place, and smiled to himself. He wanted the workday to be over, yes, but more than that, he wanted to be with you. The anticipation of spending the evening together—not just for the promise of physical intimacy but the comfort of your presence—was a warm glow that carried him through the remainder of his tasks.

Somehow, he survived the rest of his shift without further incident. By the time the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the hospital windows in hues of orange, Zayne had finished all his duties. He changed out of his white suit and into his regular clothes with brisk efficiency, a newfound energy driving his movements. Normally he didn’t mind staying late to double-check on patients or help a colleague, but not tonight. Tonight he was practically bolting for the exit, car keys in hand.

When he finally stepped outside, the cool evening air was a relief against his skin, which felt warm all over from a mix of nerves and excitement. He climbed into his car and headed to pick you up, hands gripping the steering wheel perhaps a bit tighter than usual. He caught himself at a red light, drumming his fingers impatiently. A sigh escaped him. He barely recognized this eager man tapping out a restless rhythm. Was this really him? Dr. Zayne, “always calm”, now itching with anticipation just to see someone? Evidently, yes. He allowed himself a small smile at his own expense as the light turned green. There was no use denying it: you had him wound around your little finger, and surprisingly, he didn’t mind one bit.

Just the sight of you waiting for him made his heart leap. You stood on the curb outside your work, arms wrapped around yourself against the slight chill in the air. The headlights of his car illuminated you, and when you recognized his vehicle, you offered a bright wave and an even brighter smile. Zayne’s chest gave a pleasant squeeze at the sight of that smile; that smile which had been haunting and delighting him in equal measure all day. In an instant, the frustrations of his long day at work evaporated, replaced by a bubbling happiness.

He pulled over and parked, and before he knew it he was out of the car and striding around to greet you. You opened your mouth to say hello, but he beat you to it by gently scooping the sides of your face and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It wasn’t the passionate kiss he truly craved, but here on a public street, this was as much as he’d allow himself; a tender gesture to say I missed you. He felt you lean into his palm and saw your eyes flutter closed for that brief moment, a peaceful smile gracing your lips.

“Hey,” you said softly as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. Those eyes that had been hazy with passion in his memories were now warm and shining with happiness at seeing him.

“Hey,” he echoed, a bit of contentment settling in his soul at the simple exchange.

Zayne opened the passenger door for you and helped you in, ever the gentleman despite the simmering impatience just under his skin. Once you settled, he closed the door and walked back around to the driver’s side, exhaling a breath to calm the giddiness threatening to overtake him.

As he drove off, Zayne couldn’t resist reaching over to rest his hand on your thigh. The gesture was automatic, as if his hand belonged there. You placed your hand atop his, their fingers loosely intertwining, and he felt you give him a light, affectionate squeeze. The corner of his mouth lifted. The urge to just touch you, even in this innocent way, had been gnawing at him all day, and now that he could, it was like a balm to his restless soul.

You both fell into easy conversation, each of you trying to play it cool despite the electricity humming between you two. He asked about your day, genuinely interested even as his mind was already drifting ahead to later. You recounted a few amusing incidents from work, and he found himself chuckling along, the sound coming easier as the miles passed. Talking with you was always natural; it soothed him, even when half his brain was preoccupied with thoughts of how beautiful you looked with the fading sunlight gilding your features.

Zayne shared a bit about his own day, carefully omitting just how distractingly good it had been because of your presence in his thoughts. He mentioned the successful surgery, though he left out the part where he’d nearly zoned out end-procedure. No need to worry her, he thought wryly. You knew his work was demanding; the last thing he wanted was to burden you with the knowledge that he’d been off his game. So he simply said, “the surgery was successful. My patient will be fine,” and left it at that.

You gave him an understanding smile, then teased lightly, “and how many times did you get scolded by your head nurse today?”

He smiled at that. It was an inside joke of sorts, since his head nurse was known to mother-hen him about taking breaks.

“Only twice,” he played along, “a record low, I believe.”

Actually, she probably would have scolded him a third time had she known where his mind had been wandering!

Soon enough, you both arrived at his house. It felt a little surreal to walk through his front door with you again so soon, knowing exactly what had transpired the last time you were here—Just last night, his mind whispered incredulously. The space still held faint echoes of your laughter and whispered confessions from then. Zayne’s stomach fluttered at the memory, but he forced himself to remain present. One step at a time.

You both decided on a simple dinner together, both too eager for other things to fuss over anything elaborate. Zayne had enough ingredients to throw together a quick meal; though he was so distracted by your presence, he almost burnt the sauce and over-salted the noodles. Cooking with you perched on a stool at his kitchen counter, chatting and laughing, felt wonderfully domestic and yet charged with a current of anticipation. Every time he glanced at you, he couldn’t help but imagine how you both had ended up last night: entangled on his couch, lips swollen from kisses, the taste of chocolate and liqueur on your tongue driving him mad. He gulped and redirected his focus to not chopping his own finger along with the vegetables.

Finally, you both sat down to eat. The food was decent, though Zayne hardly tasted it. Across the small dining table, you were radiating a kind of subtle excitement that mirrored his own. You both filled the air with conversation about safer topics; a funny video you saw, a story he heard about a colleague, each of you trying to prolong the normalcy of dinner even as the tension between you steadily grew. Zayne could feel it like a tangible thing: a tightness in the air, a magnetic pull every time your knees brushed under the table or your eyes met for a second too long.

It was you who finally acknowledged the elephant in the room, albeit playfully. As Zayne was gathering the last bite from his plate, you leaned back in her chair and gave him a sly little smile, “you know,” you began, casually twirling a lock of your hair between your fingers, “I think I might owe that chocolatier a thank-you note.”

Zayne arched an eyebrow, not immediately catching her drift, “the chocolatier?” He echoed.

You bit back a grin, “mhmm. Whoever made those liquor-filled chocolate candies,” you clarified, eyes sparkling with mischief, “I mean, who knew a little bit of alcohol-infused chocolate could have such an effect on the famously unflappable Dr. Zayne?”

He nearly choked on his water at your teasing tone. A flush crept up from beneath the collar of his shirt, heating his face. Of course you’d noticed how different he was last night. He hadn’t exactly been subtle. He set his glass down, coughing lightly.

“Ahem—Right. That was…Unexpected,” he admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit that revealed his embarrassment.

You giggled, a lovely sound that eased some of his embarrassment, “it was kind of adorable,” you said, tilting your head, “you were…So intense,” your cheeks pinked at your own words, as if recalling just how passionate, “not that I’m complaining,” you added swiftly, with a little wink that made Zayne’s stomach flip.

He sighed softly and covered his face with one hand, peeking at you between his fingers with an apologetic gaze, “I really was, wasn’t I? I’m sorry if I was…Too much,” the concern slipped out before he could stop it. It had been eating at him all day; the fear that maybe in the heat of the moment he’d been too intense, too hurried, and perhaps you just hadn’t said anything.

Your expression softened at his genuine worry, “you don’t need to apologize,” you said gently, “I-…” You broke off for a second, clearly choosing your words, “I liked it. A lot,” you confessed, voice quiet but firm, “I liked seeing you lose control a little. Knowing I…Did that to you,” now it was your turn to look bashful, a hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you glanced down with a shy smile.

Zayne’s heart skipped a beat. Any lingering guilt or uncertainty melted away at your admission. He hadn’t expected to feel relieved by the idea that you enjoyed his lack of restraint, but he did. Deeply. A slow smile curled his lips, “…Is that so?” He murmured, unable to resist leaning forward slightly, his arms folding on the table, “you truly enjoyed me ravishing you like a madman?”

You laughed outright at his phrasing, hiding your face behind your hands for a moment, “when you put it that way…!” Your eyes glinted with mirth as you lowered your hands, “I’m just saying, maybe we should keep some spiked chocolate around…For special occasions,” the cheeky lift of your brow told him you were half-joking, half-serious.

The suggestive lilt of your voice went straight to his gut, stoking the simmering desire he’d kept in check throughout dinner. He gazed at you, taking in the playful curve of your lips and the way you were watching him expectantly. Enough teasing had passed between you two; he knew you were both just dancing around what you both truly wanted. A small smile played at his mouth as he decided to drop the pretense entirely.

Zayne pushed his chair back a few inches, the wooden legs scraping softly against the floor. He fixed you with a smoldering look, “absolutely not,” he said, voice low and sure, “no more spiked chocolate,” he paused, letting that hang in the air a second before continuing with deliberate intent, “I planned on taking you properly tonight.”

His words fell like a match onto kindling. He watched your reaction closely, and it was everything. Your teasing bravado faltered, eyes widening slightly in surprise at his bluntness, then your lips parted in a silent “oh”. A blush surged to your cheeks, and you quickly tried to hide the delighted grin that threatened to break free by biting your lip. It didn’t work; a tiny giggle escaped, one hand flying up to cover your mouth as if you were embarrassed by your own giddiness.

Zayne felt his chest swell with affection—and a fair bit of male pride—at how pleased you looked. You liked that idea; him taking you properly, with full intention and no alcohol involved. The sheer anticipation in your expression mirrored the pounding desire in his own veins. The air between you two grew heavy, charged with mutual understanding.

For a heartbeat, you both just sat there, eyes locked. Zayne’s pulse throbbed in his throat as he drank in the sight of you: cheeks flushed a lovely pink, teeth worrying your bottom lip, and eyes flickering with excitement and a hint of nerves. God, he adored you. The urge to sweep the dishes aside, lift you onto the table and kiss you senseless right now was almost overwhelming. But he restrained himself, savoring the tension a moment longer. He had promised himself he’d go slow, and that started now; drawing out the anticipation until you were both quivering with need.

He reached across the small table, palm up in invitation. You didn’t hesitate. Your smaller hand slipped into his, warm and a touch unsteady. He squeezed gently, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“Dinner was great,” you said softly, almost absentmindedly, as if unsure what to do with the thick silence that had fallen. Your eyes kept darting to his lips, betraying your true thoughts.

Zayne smiled, “I’m glad you liked it,” he murmured, though neither of you were really talking about the food anymore. It was clear the meal was the last thing on your minds now.

Plates almost cleared, glasses still half-full; it was all forgotten. Zayne stood, still holding your hand, and you rose with him. You moved in sync, inching out from behind the table. You were so close now; he could see the flutter of your pulse at the base of your throat, could practically feel the warmth radiating off your skin. For a moment he considered lifting you into his arms and carrying you straight to bed. But then another idea slid into his mind, one that made his mouth quirk in a new smile.

He remembered how he’d almost ruined that stitch during surgery today, distracted by indecent thoughts of you. It gave him a spark of inspiration. Tilting his head toward the hallway, he asked in a casual tone that didn’t match the intense look in his eyes, “fancy a shower? I could use one right now. It was a long day.”

Your eyebrows lifted in mild surprise at the suggestion, and then you let out a breathy laugh. The tension eased just a fraction as you replied, “a shower sounds nice,” your lips curved, and you added teasingly, “only if you promise not to fall asleep in there. You had a long day.”

He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head, “not a chance,” he murmured, lifting your hand to his lips. He pressed a chaste kiss to your knuckles, then gently tugged you along toward the bathroom. With each step, the anticipation ratcheted higher. His hand was steady around yours, but his heart drummed faster and faster the closer you two got.

Inside the bathroom, Zayne let go of your hand to turn the shower tap. He forced himself to focus on the mundane actions: testing the water temperature, adjusting the spray. The pipes groaned for a second, then hot water burst forth, pattering against the tile floor and sending up wisps of steam. He grabbed a couple of fluffy towels from the shelf and hung them within reach with two white robes. All normal, ordinary actions; except his senses were anything but calm. He was keenly aware that behind him, you were slowly undressing.

The soft swish of fabric sliding off skin reached his ears even over the growing rush of the water. Zayne swallowed, his throat suddenly dry despite the damp air. In the mirror above the sink, he caught the faintest reflection of movement, you slipping out of your underwear. He saw the outline of the panties sliding down over your curves. His chest tightened and he quickly averted his eyes from the mirror, a gentlemanly instinct warring with a very human desire to look. Steady, he cautioned himself, taking a slow breath. There would be plenty to see in a moment; he could wait a few more seconds.

He busied himself by unbuttoning his own shirt, fingers working a bit clumsily on the tiny buttons now that his hands were not so steady. He’d managed to shrug it off and toss it aside when he heard you step closer behind him. The temptation to turn around was overwhelming. Towel in hand, Zayne gave in and finally turned.

He was greeted by the vision of you, in all your womanly beauty, and it absolutely stole his breath. You had shed every last article of clothing. For a moment, Zayne forgot how to think, much less speak. His eyes traveled of their own accord, sweeping down from your face, along the graceful line of your neck and the slope of your shoulders, over the curve of your breasts and further down, taking in the dip of your waist and the flare of your hips. You were illuminated softly by the bathroom’s golden light and haloed by the steam beginning to curl around you, like some radiant being made just for his eyes.

Acutely aware that he was staring, he dragged his gaze back up to your face, only to find your gaze was on him. In fact, you seemed to have been watching him first, maybe admiring his bare torso while his back was turned. The realization that he’d caught you openly checking him out sparked a mix of amusement and desire in his chest. A boyish smile tugged at his lips before he could help it.

Your eyes darted away, an embarrassed little smile appearing as you realized you’d been caught. Zayne chuckled softly, warmth blossoming in his chest at how endearing you were. Despite everything that had passed between you two, you could still be shy with him in a moment like this. It made him want you even more.

“See something you like?” He teased gently, voice a low rumble.

You let out a breathy laugh and stepped forward into his space, bravely placing a hand on his chest. Your touch was feather-light but it burned like a brand, “plenty,” you murmured back, finally meeting his gaze with boldness. Your palm rested over his heartbeat. You could feel how it thundered under your fingertips.

Zayne’s smile softened. He raised a hand and brushed the backs of his fingers down your cheek, “good,” he said quietly. Then, unable to resist any longer, he leaned in and kissed your forehead tenderly. It was such a sweet, innocent gesture compared to what he truly wanted to do, but it conveyed a fraction of his affection.

Steam swirled around you both, the shower beckoning. With reluctance, he pulled back and guided you the last couple of steps into the glass-enclosed shower stall. The hot water immediately cascaded over both of you, eliciting twin gasps at the sudden heat. Zayne drew you fully under the spray, shielding you for a moment with his arms so the initial temperature of water turning warm wouldn’t startle you too much. Soon the temperature evened out, and a comforting warmth enveloped you.

For a few seconds, neither of you moved. You two simply stood beneath the downpour, faces inches apart, as water flattened Zayne’s dark hair and soaked your hair to a glossy sheen. Droplets clung to your eyelashes, and he found himself gently wiping one away with his thumb. The intimacy of that simple act, done in silence, made his chest ache. How was it possible to feel so much for someone?

You were gazing up at him, eyes wide and searching. In them he saw trust and anticipation…And love, perhaps, though neither of you had spoken that word aloud yet. The thought made his heart stutter. He leaned forward and crooned down until his forehead rested against yours, the water pattering on his back as he partially shielded you from the spray. You closed her eyes at the contact, a serene expression washing over your features.

“I missed you so much today,” he found himself admitting in a whisper, the confession slipping out amidst the sound of water.

Your eyes opened, shining. You smiled softly, “I missed you too,” your hands, which had been resting lightly at his sides, slid around to his back, hugging him closer under the streaming water.

A content rumble sounded in his chest as he wrapped his arms around your naked form. For a long moment, Zayne simply held you, both of you reveling in the feeling of skin on skin, heartbeat against heartbeat, and warm water washing away the rest of the world. Here, there was no hospital, no distractions, no lingering uncertainty; only you and him, together.

After a moment, he remembered his half-formed plan to actually shower—at least a little. With a reluctant sigh, Zayne loosened his embrace, “turn around,” he murmured near your ear, his voice thick with affection, “let me wash you.”

You drew back enough to search his face, perhaps surprised by the gentle offer, but then you nodded and turned, gathering your wet hair and pulling it over one shoulder to give him access to your back. Zayne reached for the soap. He lathered it slowly between his palms, working up a fragrantly sudsy foam. Then, with careful hands, he began to lavish attention on your body.

He started at your shoulders, massaging in firm, soothing circles. A pleased sigh escaped your lips, and he smiled at that small sign of your relaxation. His fingertips pressed into the tense muscles at the base of your neck, undoing knots formed from your own long day. He was thorough, taking his time as promised. Gradually, he worked his way down, kneading along your shoulder blades and then gliding his hands outward, tracing the curve of your waist. The slick slide of soap under his palms made it easy to roam slowly, and he savored every inch of silky skin beneath his fingers.

Zayne tried to maintain some semblance of calm as he continued his task, but it was a losing battle. The feel of you under his large hands, the quiet little sounds of contentment you made; it was stirring heat within him all over again. He took a steadying breath and reminded himself: slow. He wanted to cherish you, not rush through as he had last night. This deliberate worship of your body was as much an act of love as any kiss.

Still, he was only human. When his hands slid around your sides, fingers grazing the sides of your breasts, he felt a fierce jolt of desire crackle through him. He forced himself to pull back slightly, letting his hands travel down to less dangerous territory—the small of your back, then over the gentle swell of your hips. He dipped to wash the length of your legs, kneeling briefly as he ran suds along the back of your thighs and calves. He was rewarded with a soft giggle from above as the motion tickled you, and he chuckled too, pressing a light kiss to your hip in apology. That innocent touch of his lips on you skin made both of you pause. You with a quiet intake of breath, and him with a surge of heat that made his head spin. It would be so easy to keep going, to trail his mouth along your wet skin, upward, inward…

Zayne swallowed hard and stood up, his self-control hanging by a thinning thread. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose himself again completely, and while that prospect was heavenly, he wanted to make sure every second of this counted. He wanted you trembling with pleasure and knowing it was by his deliberate doing, not just accidental fervor.

“Your turn,” you said suddenly, voice soft and just a touch husky. You had turned your head to peer at him over your shoulder. Strands of wet hair clung to the side of your neck, framing your face. Your eyes were heavy-lidded with simmering desire, “let me wash you too.”

His heart thumped. He certainly hadn’t planned on this; in his fantasies of caring for you, he’d somehow forgotten you might want to reciprocate. Before he could respond, you gently took the soap from his hands. Zayne found himself obeying in silence when you guided him to switch places. Now his back was to the spray and to you. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as your hands, tentative at first, pressed against his shoulders.

If your touch was shy, it didn’t remain so for long. Soon you were rubbing along his back with more confidence, your fingertips digging in just enough to draw a low sigh of appreciation from him. The day’s tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying melted under your care. Your hands slid over the planes of his back, and he couldn’t help but notice when you pressed a little closer to reach the lower part of his spine – the supple warmth of your breasts grazing against him in the process. His eyes snapped open at that sensation, a bolt of lightning shooting straight to his groin.

Zayne sucked in a breath. He needed to keep it together just a bit longer…But damn. You were making that difficult. As if sensing his fraying control, you placed a feather-light kiss between his shoulder blades, your lips lingering on his skin as if tasting the water droplets there. That was it. The final unraveling of his restraint.

He spun around slowly to face you once more, water sloshing at his feet at the movement. The look on your face nearly undid him entirely: you were smiling softly, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with anticipation and love. Love. He felt it in your every touch and saw it in your gaze, even if neither of you had spoken the word.

Zayne’s own eyes were dark now with uncontained desire. The subtle hardness he’d been sporting since stepping into the shower had grown insistent; he was fully hard, and judging by the quick glance you stole downward, you noticed. A new blush bloomed on your face, and your lips parted in a tiny gasp as he gently held your upper arm. He felt you tremble ever so slightly as you realized just how much he wanted you, and that this was all about to happen again, right here under the steaming water.

Heat crashed through him like a tidal wave, and he saw its reflection in you: your breathing quickened, your pupils dilated, and a certain tension, a delicious, yearning tension, seemed to lock both of your bodies in place for a split second. The air was thick with unspoken desire, the sound of the shower dulling to a distant roar in Zayne’s ears. All he could hear was the rapid thud of his own heartbeat and the faint, hitching breaths you took as you looked up at him.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. The way you stepped closer, letting your wet, naked body press against his, spoke volumes. Your curves fit against him perfectly, soft against hard, and both of you sucked in a breath at the contact. Zayne’s vision nearly went white at the edges; the feeling of your bare skin sliding against his was heaven and hell all at once.

His last coherent thought was a fervent vow: I will do this right. And then every rational thought scattered as he finally gave in.

Zayne wrapped one arm securely around your waist and drew you fully against him. His other hand came up to cradle the back of your head, fingers tangling gently in your wet hair. He paused just long enough to search your eyes. What he found there, blazing passion, trust, and that unmistakable want, undid the final threads of his resolve.

Zayne crashed his lips to yours, kissing you with all the pent-up longing of the day. The kiss was searing, water-slicked, and intense, yet he still managed to hold onto a shred of tenderness within it. You responded immediately, a soft moan humming against his mouth as your arms wound around his neck. Your mouths moved together feverishly, tongues tangling in a dance that felt both desperately hungry and achingly sweet.

Under the pounding of the water, you both lost yourselves in that embrace. Zayne pressed your back gently against the cool tile wall, mindful even in his passion not to hurt you, but determined to feel every inch of you against him. You gasped into his mouth at the chill of the tile on your skin, clutching him tighter, and he took the opportunity to trail his lips along your jaw, to the sensitive spot just below your ear. He kissed and nipped there, rewarded by the way you inhaled sharply and whispered his name in a ragged plea that made his head swim.

His hands began to roam in earnest now, as if they had a will of their own. One slipped down the small of your back to cup the curve of your bottom, lifting you just slightly and grinding his hips to your stomach, drawing a shuddering groan from both of you at the delicious friction. The other hand skated up your side, at last claiming the soft weight of your breast. He did it slowly, reverently, and felt you whimper against his shoulder when his thumb brushed over a taut nipple. The sound nearly drove him mad with desire, but he reminded himself: He wanted to savor this, savor you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. The sight that met him would forever be etched in his memory; your back arched against the wall, head tipped back, eyes closed as water cascaded down your flushed skin, lips parted as you panted for breath. You were the very picture of surrender, and you were his. That knowledge sent a fierce rush of emotion through him.

Zayne pressed his forehead to yours once more, both of you breathing hard. He gentled his touch for a moment, sliding his hand from your backside to wrap securely around your waist. He wanted to speak, to tell you how amazing you were, how happy you made him, how he’d been dreaming of this all damn day. But the words tangled in his throat, coming out instead as a quiet, fervent whisper, “I’ve got you…I’m here. Always,” it was a promise and an apology and a declaration all at once.

You opened your eyes and met his gaze, “I know,” you breathed, lifting a hand to caress his cheek. The tenderness in your touch just about unraveled him in a whole different way.

He turned his head to press a kiss to the inside of your palm, then captured your lips once more, passionate as ever. Every slide of his mouth against yours, every brush of his fingertips on your body, he tried to convey what he couldn’t speak aloud: You mean so much to me. I adore you. I want to make you feel everything. Your responses, the eager way you kissed back, the gentle scratches of your nails at the nape of his neck, the way you whispered his name like a prayer between kisses, told him you understood.

With a surge of resolve, he lifted you, coaxing your legs around his waist. You yielded, locking your legs tight behind his slippery back, and the new closeness drew a mutual moan from your throats as your bodies cemented intimately. Zayne met your eyes once more. Both of you had clouded gazes and were panting, on the precipice of something intense and inevitable.

“Tonight,” he rasped, voice rough with emotion and need, “I’m not holding back…But I’m not rushing either,” he managed a faint, breathless smile, “I want to feel everything with you. Slowly.”

Your answering smile was radiant, even as it quivered with anticipation, “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, looping your arms around his broad shoulders, “take all the time you need.”

And so he did. With the hot water cascading over you like summer rain and the world outside utterly forgotten, Zayne captured your lips in another deep, lingering kiss. Every brush of his lips was full of purpose. The hunger was still there—oh, was it there—in the way he held you captive for his kiss. Yet nothing about it felt unwelcome or rough. You could feel him shaking with the effort to remain gentle, to take his time. He wasn’t rushing with intensity, but you could tell he was itching to consume you with relentless desire once he could allow himself that.

Your heart pounded as you kissed him back just as passionately. The heat of the shower was nothing compared to the heat sparking to life inside you, flame by flame, little by little as your mind drifted to memories of last night; to the way he kissed you hungrily; breaths entangled between moans with every indulgent thrust he had given you. Zayne’s lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down the side of your neck. He sucked at your skin there, not quite hard enough to mark, but enough to make you moan and cling to his broad shoulders. You could feel the hard length of him pressed against you, twitching with need as his self-control restrained him. A whimper escaped you—half in pleasure, half in anticipation—and you rolled your hips toward him. That motion drew a low moan from Zayne’s throat; he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, breathing hard. His need was becoming unbearable by the second. How fid it happen so fast? Was this a losing battle?

Suddenly, you managed to find your voice between ragged breaths. “Zayne,” you whispered, voice trembling with longing, “we should finish showering and take this to bed…”

As much as the urgent, slippery tangle of bodies in the shower stoked your flames, you wanted more space, the softness of a bed, to feel him properly. Your words made him freeze for a heartbeat. His green eyes searched yours, making sure he understood. Making sure you were certain about escalating things. Then with a tight nod, he slowly lowered you back onto your feet. He was reluctant, but he obeyed your request if you were the one asking for more.

“Okay,” he murmured, pressing one last searing kiss to your lips as if to tide himself over while you both finished washing up.

The moment you were both fully clean, Zayne grabbed a robe and swiftly wrapped it around your dripping form, his hands trembling with urgency even as he tried and succeeded to be tender. He was dressing himself in his soon after, ruffling his hair dry into a towel as you squeezed your own into a towel as best as you could, your mind elsewhere, your heart hammering slightly at the thought.

The second you reached his bedroom, you barely had time to adjust before Zayne was lifting you again. His lips met yours in a soft kiss as he bounced you up in his arms. You held onto him tightly as he made his way to his bed, your lips peppering kisses over his temple and cheek. He was gentle as he laid you down on the plush blankets and you fell back against the pillows, damp hair fanning out. Zayne crawled over you, covering your body with his. The belt of your robe was untied by eager fingers. His own robe slid off his shoulders as you fumbled it away, and then warm bare skin met warm bare skin. His mouth sought yours in another desperate kiss, one hand affectionately cradling the back of your head. A soft moan spilled from you as his weight settled between your parted thighs. Every inch of you was awakening under him, craving him, a needy part of you wishing to feel him become one with you again immediately.

Zayne tore his lips from yours to drag them down your throat, kissing and nibbling a teasingly slow, sensual path. He whispered your name reverently against your skin, “Y/n…I thought about you all day today,” he confessed in a breathy murmur between kisses, “all day…I couldn’t stop…Counting the hours until I could be with you again…”

The admission sent a thrill through your blood. You threaded your fingers into his wet hair as he moved lower, silently urging him on. His lips found the curve of your breast peeking from the loosened robe, and he let out a satisfied sigh that grazed your skin like fire.

With deliberate patience, Zayne pushed the robe open fully, baring your glistening breasts to the cool air. His gaze flicked up to yours, checking that every move was wanted. The moment he saw your eyes glazed with desire, he dipped his head and took one aching nipple into his mouth. A moan slipped from your lips at the hot, wet suction. Zayne’s tongue swirled languidly around the sensitive peak before he began to gently suckle, drawing more of you into his mouth. Pleasure arced down your spine, curling your toes. You arched your back, pressing into the heat of his mouth, and he moaned quietly in response, low and appreciative.

“You drive me crazy…Do you know that?” He breathed against your flesh. He lavished attention on your other breast now, giving it the same slow, devouring treatment. Each pull of his lips and flick of his tongue sent sparks of bliss skittering straight to your core. He closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste of your skin, and you felt him growing needier and needier. His gentle suckling turned into firmer, hungrier pulls; his teeth grazed ever so lightly, making you gasp and clutch at the sheets. Your breaths came in soft pants. You could feel how hard he was as his hips rutted unconsciously against you. Zayne was slowly unraveling into pent-up passion, and it was the most intoxicating thing you’d ever witnessed.

With a shuddering breath, he forced himself to slow down. Reluctantly releasing your nipple with a final languid lick around the swollen bud, Zayne began kissing his way down your body. Slow. Contained. Disciplined. His lips traveled over your ribcage reverently, ticklishly, tracing every drop of water gathered over your skin. He paused to nuzzle his nose into the soft shudder of your belly. When he reached your navel, he gave it a lick that made you squirm and giggle breathlessly. But then his voice cut through the dark, quiet room, soft but earnest.

“Regarding how I acted with you last night…” He began softly, trailing off as though uncertain. He rested his cheek against your stomach, his arms wrapping under and around your hips in a loose embrace as he sighed.

You glanced down, meeting his eyes. His expression was a mix of desire and regret.

“I’m sorry I was so drunk,” Zayne confessed, voice barely above a whisper, “truly, I wanted our first time to be perfect. I should’ve made love to you slowly…Properly. I just-…” He swallowed hard, pressing a remorseful kiss to your hipbone, “I couldn’t help myself in that state. You’re just…Utterly irresistible, even when I’m sober. Even right now…This isn’t easy for me whatsoever.”

Your heart squeezed tenderly at his words. Last night had been wild and a little rushed, fueled by alcohol and months of pent-up tension—but you had no regrets. Reaching down, you stroked the damp hair from his brow.

“Hey,” you murmured softly, capturing his gaze, “it was perfect, Zayne. Maybe not slow, but it was perfect…”

Your assurance made his eyes soften.

He turned his face to press a grateful kiss into your palm before refocusing on your body with renewed determination.

“I’m still going to make it up to you,” he vowed, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

With that promise hanging in the air, Zayne gently parted your thighs, settling himself more comfortably between them. His hands slowly skated down the outside of your legs—from your knees to your hips—then back inward along the sensitive inner thighs. His fingertips left trails of tingling heat on your skin. When his lips followed, placing feathery kisses high on your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you needed him, you let out a shaky moan. He was deliberately avoiding the place you most wanted his mouth, and it was driving you insane.

“Zayne,” you whispered, your fingers slipping into his thick dark hair for purchase. He glanced up, the ghost of restraint in his clouded eyes as he continued to pepper slow kisses along the crease where your thigh met your core. Each near-miss brush of his lips had your hips canting upward, seeking more. Finally, as he kissed just beside your aching heat for the fifth or sixth time, you couldn’t take it anymore. You tugged pleadingly at his hair, your voice coming out in a needy whisper, “please…Please, no more drawing it out. I need you already,” the desperation in your tone echoed the throbbing need in your core, “this isn’t easy for me either…”

Zayne’s warm breath ghosted over your most intimate spot as he chuckled low in his throat, “I’ll satisfy you properly this time, then,” he murmured, sounding both loving and utterly passionate. You felt his large hands slide over your inner thighs, spreading you open a little wider. He shifted his shoulders and finally lowered his head between your legs.

The first touch of his tongue against your slit was so gentle it made you shiver. He licked a slow, exploratory stripe through your slick folds, gathering your taste on his tongue. A deep sigh caressed you like flames from his mouth at that first taste of you.

“You taste sweet…” He mumbled, voice muffled against you. Then his mouth found your clit, and your head pressed back into the pillows, a soft whine spilling from your lips. Zayne’s tongue circled the sensitive bud in a torturously light motion at first, teasing it out from under its little hood. He took his time, savoring you, and each delicate flick made your thighs tremble, your body instinctively trying to open for him even more.

Gradually, he increased the pressure—those lazy circles growing more focused. Your breathing hitched when Zayne wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked softly. The sensation was pure bliss: warm, wet suction sending bolts of pleasure radiating out from your center. Your legs fell open wider of their own accord, inviting him deeper.

“Ohhh…” You exhaled a long, shaky moan and tightened your grip in his hair.

Encouraged, Zayne suckled your clit slow and deep, creating a rhythm that had your toes curling against the sheets. Each tender pull of his mouth drew a new whimper from you. He was methodical, almost achingly gentle in how he pleasured you, determined to draw out every ounce of your pleasure.

Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly feel any better, Zayne changed tack. He released your throbbing nub with a soft pop, earning a desperate whine from you at the loss of pressure. Before you could protest further, he pressed forward with his tongue, parting your slick folds and delving into your entrance. A ragged gasp tore from your throat as he began to feast on you in earnest. His tongue lapped and curled inside, then dragged upward through your drenched folds to flick your clit—only to repeat the cycle again and again. It was relentless and loving all at once—he moaned against you as if he were the one being pleasured, thoroughly enjoying every drop of your arousal.

Your hands flew to the sheets, twisting them in ecstasy as he buried his face even deeper between your thighs.

“Zayne…Oh my God,” you keened. Your senses were overwhelmed by him: the heat of arousal thick in the air, the lewd wet sounds of his lips working you, the sight of his broad shoulders and dark head moving between your trembling thighs. Bliss coiled hot and tight in your belly.

Suddenly Zayne paused, lifting his head. You almost whimpered at the interruption—until you saw the look in his eyes. Heavy-lidded and dark, they roamed over the sight of your core spread out before him. With one large hand, he gently parted your swollen folds, using his fingertips to hold you open. His gaze was locked to your most intimate place, and he sighed with reverence. You felt impossibly exposed under that hungry stare, and a flush of heat washed over your cheeks.

“Beautiful,” Zayne whispered, the single word full of awe.

His breath caressed your sensitive flesh, making you shiver. As if to prove his point, he lowered his face again and placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss just above your clit. You felt him smile against you. One of his fingers traced delicately up and down your slit, spreading the wetness that was already dripping out of you. His touch was so reverent, as if he were handling the petals of a delicate flower. You could feel your body begging for more; your hips gave a tiny involuntary roll, seeking friction. A quiet chuckle rumbled from Zayne at your response. He clearly enjoyed savoring you like this—worshipping you slowly while you writhed for him.

Finally, his thumb grazed upward and hooked over the little hood of flesh protecting your clit. With gentle care, he eased it back, exposing your swollen nub completely. The sudden rush of sensation made you gasp sharply. Before the jolt could even fade, Zayne closed his lips around that bare bundle of nerves and sucked—slow and deep.

“Ahh-!” You cried out, your hips jerking. The pleasure was instant and electric.

His long moan vibrated through your flesh as he indulged in the full taste of you, tongue lashing firmly over your now fully exposed clit. That was all it took to drive you nearly out of your mind. You were drowning in ecstasy, thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head.

“Please, please…!” You heard yourself whimpering, though you weren’t even sure what you were begging for now—more of this, or mercy, or both. You clutched at his hair with one hand and the sheets with the other, needing something to anchor you. Zayne only dove deeper, feeding off your pleasure.

At one point, your hand bumped into one of his. Zayne immediately shifted his grip to intertwine his fingers with yours, pinning your joined hands to your hip in a show of tender possessiveness. The gesture sent a flood of emotion through you even amidst the haze of lust. Here you were, completely at his mercy, and yet he held your hand as if to say he was with you, that he adored you. Your chest swelled; you squeezed his hand tightly.

“It feels so damn good,” you managed to declare, voice breaking. Your words earned a pleased hum from him against your sensitive flesh.

He glanced up along your body, meeting your heavy-lidded eyes. His lips glistened with your arousal. “Tell me,” he breathed softly, pausing his tongue for a heartbeat, “tell me exactly how to make it even better. What do you want? I’ll do anything,” his voice was heavy with need, and you realized he was truly asking—he wanted to please you perfectly.

The question sent a thrill through you. Biting your lip, you propped yourself up slightly against the pillows, arm trembling as you fought to hold yourself together. Your body was already buzzing and close to bursting, but you knew exactly what would push you over the edge. With a shaky hand, you reached down between your legs, where his face hovered, and boldly used two fingers to spread yourself open even wider for him. The cool air hitting your exposed clit made you shudder.

“Here,” you breathed, your cheeks burning with both embarrassment and excitement. You lifted the stiff little nub with your fingers, baring it fully, “lick me faster…Harder…Please,”’the words tumbled out in a desperate rush.

Your eyes locked with Zayne’s as you guided him, and the raw desire in his gaze made your heart skip. The intimacy of showing him exactly what you needed was almost as erotic as the touch itself.

A low sigh escaped Zayne’s lips at your display, “anything you want,” he breathed out, his eyes never leaving yours. He gripped your thigh with one hand, the other gently replacing your fingers. He held your hood back between his thumb and index, keeping your clit completely exposed on all sides and vulnerable, and leaned in, “keep your eyes on me,” he murmured, voice like gravel. Then he flicked his tongue precisely where you’d shown him, applying the firm pressure you craved.

Your world detonated into pure sensation. A mewl tore from your throat as Zayne’s tongue lashed over that unguarded bundle of nerves in quick, focused strokes. And he watched you, his emerald gaze blazing up the length of your body, drinking in every expression that crossed your face. The eye contact made it a hundred times more intense. Pleasure thundered through you; you couldn’t look away from him either—from the sight of his dark, messy hair between your thighs and those eyes that owned you completely. Your breaths turned to panting cries.

“Yes…Yes, just like that!” You begged, barely recognizing your own voice as it broke into a sob. Your entire body was trembling now, muscles winding tight as a spring.

Sensing how close you were, Zayne doubled his efforts. Without breaking his licking rhythm on your clit, he gently slipped one long finger into your entrance, facing upward. Your slick walls welcomed the intrusion greedily. Curling his finger towards the ceiling, he searched unerringly until—there. He found a slightly wrinkled, spongy spot along your inner wall, buried deep inside. The very instant he pressed against that sweet spot, your vision went blank with white-hot ecstasy before he could even begin to start stimulating it. It was overwhelming—like a lightning strike of pleasure detonating from your core and rippling outward.

A scream tore from your lips, wordless and raw. Your back arched completely off the bed as the orgasm slammed into you before you even had time to catch a breath.

“Zayne! Zayne!” you cried his name over and over as you came undone. Your thighs clamped around his head, body jerking uncontrollably as you shakily fisted his hair. The intensity was too much; tears pricked your eyes from the sheer force of it. Zayne groaned against you—a triumphant, guttural sound—and kept his mouth on you through every pulse of your orgasm. He suckled your throbbing clit, not letting go, sending aftershocks that mingled sweetly with the peak of your release. His finger pumped slowly in and out, drawing out every spasm of pleasure until you were trembling like a leaf. The oversensitivity was becoming overwhelming; a soft cry escaped your lips as your hands began to weakly push at his head instinctively.

Only when your cries turned to soft whimpers did he finally relent. Gently, Zayne removed his finger and pressed a last tender kiss to your oversensitive clit, as if in apology. You twitched and let out a tiny whine at the contact, your whole body shuddering with afterglow. He withdrew, and the sudden absence of his mouth and hands left you shaking in the aftermath. Your chest heaved as you gulped in air. Every limb felt limp—utterly sated and yet buzzing at the same time.

Zayne rose up onto his knees. In the low lamp-light of the bedroom, you could see his face was slick with your wetness, gleaming on his lips and chin. His hair was mussed from your fingers and your thighs, and his eyes were shining with pride and desire. Using the long lost robe he tossed aside earlier, he wiped his glistening face, letting out a slow, unsteady breath. A satisfied smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when he saw the utterly wrecked expression on your face. You tried to form words—maybe to thank him or tell him how incredible that was—but all that came out was a broken, contented laugh. You were floating.

He wasn’t going to let you drift too far, though. Before you could collapse completely, Zayne slid his arms around you and gathered you against his chest. You melted into his embrace, still trembling in the circle of his arms. His skin felt searing hot and a little damp against your cheek. You realized faintly that he was shaking too—but whether from restraint or from the intensity of making you come undone, you weren’t sure.

He stroked your back and murmured softly into your hair, “are you alright?”

A lazy smile found your lips. You nodded against him, turning your face up to look at him, “more than okay,” you whispered breathlessly. Your heart overflowed with affection as you gazed at the man who had just unraveled you so completely. You reached up to brush a stray lock of hair off his dewy forehead, “that was…Beyond amazing. You’re amazing…”

Zayne’s smile broadened, but there was still a fierce, hungry light in his eyes. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, then your nose, then finally your lips. You tasted yourself on his tongue—musky and sweet—as he kissed you slowly. It was strangely erotic, and you moaned softly into his mouth. You felt him smile against your lips at your reaction. As the kiss broke, he gave your lower lip a playful nip.

“Good,” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction, “because I’m not done with you yet…”

A delightful shiver coursed through you at his words. Even after you came so hard, he clearly had more plans. You were about to ask what he meant when he shifted beneath you, maneuvering you both on the bed. Gently, Zayne guided you up, coaxing you to straddle his broad chest. Your legs were still a bit wobbly, but his strong hands on your hips supported you. You quickly realized what he wanted, and a new wave of heat flooded your body.

He looked up at you, eyes hooded and filled with passionate intent, “come here,” he whispered, sliding downward on the mattress until his head was aligned beneath your thighs, “I’d like you to sit on my face.”

The bold, filthy request sent a jolt of excitement straight to your core.

Zayne squeezed your hips reassuringly, his voice soft with adoration, “take control, gorgeous. I want to see you. I want to feel everything you love.”

Your breath caught. The idea of taking what you wanted from him—of using his mouth while he watched you fall apart—was equal parts thrilling and intimidating, “are you-…Are you sure?” You asked, your voice barely audible.

In response, Zayne just tugged you closer to his face, answering without words. Carefully, you inched forward on your knees until you were hovering over his mouth, your thighs framing his handsome face. His hands urged you downward, and you slowly lowered your hips. The first brush of his lips against your still-sensitive folds made both of you sigh.

Zayne’s grip on your hips tightened. With a low, approving moan, he pulled you fully down onto him, burying his face in you once more. A cry ripped from your throat as his tongue found your tender clit again and gave it a slow, loving lick. The sensation was almost too much after your recent orgasm—but it quickly morphed into a new kind of pleasure, sharper and somehow even more intense. You braced your hands on the headboard, hovering just enough so you wouldn’t completely smother him, but Zayne wasn’t having that. He dragged you down harder, wordlessly insisting you let go of your weight. He wanted you to truly smother him.

A shudder of pleasure tore through you as you surrendered. Your knees slid further apart on either side of his head, and you began to move your hips, grinding yourself gently over his eager mouth. Zayne groaned in delight beneath you. He matched your rhythm with his tongue, lapping and sucking as you rocked against him. You threw your head back, a raw moan spilling from your lips as you gently fisted his hair in one hand. The feeling was indescribable—being in control of the friction and angle meant every stroke hit exactly where you needed. And the sight below you was pure sin: when you dared to glance down, you saw Zayne gazing up at you, utterly lost in ecstasy.

His eyes were half-closed, dark lashes fanning against flushed cheeks, and his brow was furrowed as if he were in the throes of pleasure himself. He was—you realized that with a hot spike of arousal. One of his hands traveled up your body to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your pebbled nipple. The other hand slid down between his own legs. Your heart skipped a beat as you followed his movement and saw him wrap his fist around his stiff cock. Zayne started stroking himself in time with your grinding hips, pumping up and down his length with a needy, tight grip. You hadn’t even touched him yet, and he was already so worked up that he was pleasuring himself.

The realization that he could get off just from tasting you and feeling you ride his mouth made your head spin. A surge of lust like molten lava pooled low in your belly.

“O-oh my god,” you breathed, voice quivering. Your fingers dug into his scalp, tangling in his damp hair, “Zayne…You’re so hot,” you managed to moan. He responded with a deep sigh against your core, the heat of his breath grazing you nearly making your eyes roll back.

Driven wild by the sight of him shamelessly pumping his cock while he devoured you, you began to ride his face faster. Your thighs trembled beside his head as you ground down, rubbing your aching clit over his insatiable tongue again and again. The pleasure was almost brutal in its intensity now, sending you hurtling closer another orgasm with dizzying speed. Each time you looked back, the image etched itself into your mind: Zayne’s abs flexing, his hips subtly lifting into his own tight fist, that thick shaft of his swelling through his fingers, his rosy head glistening with a dripping bead of pre-cum. He was getting closer too—you could tell by the way his breathing turned ragged beneath you and the needy noises spilling from his throat.

“Z-Zayne, I-ohhh-I’m so close!” You warned him between panting moans.

Your entire body was tensing, a live wire ready to snap. He opened his eyes fully then, locking his gaze with yours. The raw hunger and adoration you saw there pushed you even higher. His tongue flickered over your clit faster, sending sparks exploding through your nerves.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, barely aware of the words tumbling out in a high, urgent cry. Your fingers scrabbled in his hair for any kind of purchase as the wave rose relentlessly. Zayne’s hand on your breast gave your nipple a teasing pinch at the same time his teeth grazed ever so lightly over your swollen clit, and that was it. The coil inside you sprang loose with violent force.

You came with a shattering scream of his name, “Zayne! Zayne!”

Your vision whited out as euphoria ripped through you. Every muscle in your body went taut. Your thighs clamped around his head, and your hips bucked in an erratic rhythm, grinding feverishly against his mouth as the orgasm ravaged you. You felt like you were exploding into a million pieces, pleasure obliterating every coherent thought. Through the roar of blood in your ears, you heard him groaning in satisfaction, felt him sucking ravenously on your clit to prolong your bliss. The sensation now danced on the knife-edge of too much, but in your climax-drunk state it only spurred another surge of ecstasy. You sobbed his name again, riding out the waves that seemed to last forever.

As your orgasm finally began to ebb, your body slumped forward, utterly wrecked and boneless. Your head lolled against the headboard and your breaths heaved, each one a trembling gasp. You eased up slightly, lifting your weight from Zayne’s face so he could breathe more freely. Your entire body was still pulsing with aftershocks.

It took a few moments for your vision to clear and reality to filter back in. When it did, you realized something that made your stomach flip in disbelief. Zayne was moaning continuously beneath you, his sounds vibrating against your oversensitive flesh. With your last ounce of strength, you pushed yourself up, sliding back off his face. The sight behind you that greeted you left you breathless.

Zayne’s face was a portrait of bliss. His lips were swollen and shiny with your juices, his cheeks flushed a deep rose. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. And just below, thick ropes of hot white cum striped his abdomen in messy splashes right before your eyes in real time. He had climaxed right along with you, and the evidence coated his sculpted stomach, glistening in the low light.

“Oh…Oh wow,” you murmured, a mixture of surprise and wicked delight coloring your tone. The fact that he had lost control without you even touching him—solely from the act of pleasuring you—sent a fierce flutter of arousal and affection through your heart. Your eyes darted to his hand; he still had it wrapped loosely around the base of his now-softening cock, and his knuckles were wet with his own spend. A satisfied, almost dazed smile curled on Zayne’s lips as he finally released himself and let his arm fall limp to the side.

You giggled softly, your voice shaky from exertion as you weakly crawled backwards down his body. Leaning forward, you braced your hands on his chest, careful to avoid the sticky warmth cooling on his skin. Zayne’s eyes blinked open slowly, still glazed with exhaustion and lingering ecstasy, his lips slightly parted as he caught his breath. When he focused on you, a lazy, contented smile lit up his features.

Without a word, you reached to brush the damp strands of hair from his forehead, smoothing them back gently as you found your robe to wipe his face clean. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second like a blissful cat. Then those emerald eyes opened again, gazing up at you with such tenderness it nearly stole your breath. His hands, which came to rest on your hips, began to rub small, soothing circles.

“That was…” Your started, your voice spent. You weren’t even sure what to say. Incredible? Mind-blowing? No words felt big enough.

Zayne only smiled. He looked very pleased with himself—and with you, “are you pleased?” He teased softly, shifting a little under you.

In response, you just let out an emphatic, breathy laugh, “you know I am,” you replied, giving him a faux-chastising look. Your body was still tingling all over.

He flashed a bigger smile briefly, but then his expression softened into something almost shy, “I…I came just watching you,” he admitted, sounding both proud and a little astonished by the fact. His eyes flicked downward towards the mess on his stomach hiding behind you, “I couldn’t help it…You’re just too irresistible. The way you scream my name, the way you move…” He shook his head as if in disbelief, then gave a small embarrassed laugh, “I’ve got no self-control around you, do I?”

You felt your heart melt and heat bloom in your cheeks. Bending down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, tasting yourself, “I love that you lost control,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice filled with genuine appreciation, “it’s unbelievably hot…”

Zayne sighed softly at your words and returned your kiss with equal tenderness. For a long moment, you simply lingered there, trading slow, languid kisses while coming down from your mutual high. His hands caressed up and down your sides soothingly.

At last, you pulled back slightly to catch your breath. Zayne’s gaze stayed locked on you, and that little smile you knew so well began tugging at his lips. Yet there was warmth in it, not just lust—a playful affection. His grip on your hips tightened a fraction, “you know…” He murmured, voice velvety and low, “I’m still not done yet…”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. You were thoroughly spent, and he had just found his own release, but the flame in his eyes told you his words were true. Before you could ask or protest, he continued, his tone turning light and teasing, “you’ll let me be greedy just this once, right? Just give me that now, and I swear I won’t ever beg you again…Unless, you want me to,” his lips curved as a hint of a blush colored his cheeks, as if he realized how shameless he was being.

His plea sent a spark through you, reigniting the desire that had only barely begun to ebb. A breathless laugh escaped you.

“Greedy, huh?” You managed to tease back, brushing your fingertips along his jaw. But your voice betrayed you, trembling with excitement at the prospect of more.

Zayne didn’t need to hear a full answer. He suddenly sat up and wrapped you in his arms. In one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, drawing a startled gasp from your lips as he covered you with his body. His mouth found yours in a searing kiss, cutting off any further words. The night was far from over.

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jaebumspetitegf · 8 days ago

Text

silent poem - zayne 黎深

you haven’t seen zayne in weeks—his surgery schedule demanding and unrelenting. when he comes home late at night, kissing you awake, you can’t help but help him relax. a continuation of zayne’s four-star memory “silent poem.”

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some/little plot, secret time continuation

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 5.8k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, continued off ‘silent poem’ with my own twist (expect tweaked dialogue and “plot”), unprotected sex, massage, nipple play and biting/sucking, handjob, zayne is needy and demanding, lots of making out, mating press, thigh riding, zayne is demanding let me reiterate that, no use of y/n, use of pet names, idk guys im so tired

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: this is not proofread very well i got very tired. continued and based off of silent poem with creative liberties taken, so expect some aspects to be different.

i know i don’t write for zayne much anymore im sorrryyyyyy take this as a peace offering,

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ

Lately, it was only in the deepest whispers of your dreams that you got to see Zayne.

You’d gotten used to only being able to see him for a few minutes in the morning—when he was heading out the door and you were just waking up to the sounds of your incessant alarms. You cherished those fleeting moments.

But the last few weeks, you didn’t even have that to look forward to. As of late, your dear boyfriend was always coming home when you were fast asleep and out the door before you’d even had a chance to fully wake up. Some nights you suspected he didn’t come home altogether, opting to sleep at his office instead.

You knew it’d get better. It always did.

But that did little to help the aching emptiness you felt in his absence.

On the nights it got particularly bad, you found yourself with your face smothered in your pillow, hand between your thighs, calling out his name until your throat felt raw.

And those same nights would be filled with dreams of that same raven-haired surgeon.

Mostly, you’d just dream of that rare half smile he’d give you when you brought him sweets between surgeries. Or the way he always folded his arms across his chest when he would wait by his Audi, on the rare days he got off work before you and would pick you up.

You just missed every single thing about him.

So when you felt those familiar cold lips against yours, your sleep-thickened eyes fluttering open to face Zayne himself, you were certain you were dreaming.

“Mmmngh—Zayne…?” you mumble, voice laced with grogginess. It’s still dark and you can’t differentiate between dream and reality, especially when you’d felt his soft lips on yours just moments earlier.

“Apologies,” his voice is incredibly gentle, cold fingers stroking your cheek tenderly, “Did I wake you up?”

You shake your head vehemently, or as urgently as you can with your sleep-fogged brain. Zayne chuckles, leaning back down to press his lips into your forehead.

“Late surgeries?” you yawn, sitting up on your elbows and squinting at the clock on his bedroom wall. It read 3:21 AM.

Zayne looks conflicted but ultimately sighs, effortlessly lifting you and scooting you so that he can climb in beside you, tucking you against his chest and cradling you reverently. Normally, he’d never get into the bed in his “outside clothes,” no matter how clean he always was, but right now? He just couldn’t resist.

He’d missed you terribly.

“Yes,” he murmurs into your shoulder, kissing the exposed skin there, “It’s been hectic at the hospital. Every day, I’ve had to come home in the middle of the night.”

You shiver as he presses another chaste kiss to your shoulder blade, “I’m sorry for waking you, love. You looked so peaceful. I couldn’t resist.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, taking a deep inhale of your scent, face burying into your hair. His breath is shaky, making your heart ache.

“Zayne,” you whisper, craning your neck back to look at him, “You sound tired. You need to sleep.”

Zayne sighs, “Let me hold you for a bit. It helps with the exhaustion.”

“Mmmm…” you mumble sleepily, already feeling sleep creeping up again. Zayne’s sturdy body cocooned yours, the warmth and security making it impossible to stay awake. Before you know it, you find yourself dozing off.

That’s until you feel his thick bulge pressing between your rear, almost fitting perfectly between your cheeks even through your sleeping shorts and his pants. Until you feel his restrained movements, almost as if he was desperately trying not to rut against you—like a starved animal.

Zayne was a man of immense self control. And if he was wavering, even just a little?

He needed you.

Forcing yourself awake, you flip onto your other side to face him, wriggling around in his embrace. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches when your lower half brushes insistently against his tented lap, biting back a wanton groan.

And suddenly, you aren’t sleepy anymore.

“You should relax more,” you murmur, your fingers stroking his jaw, the slight stubble ticklish against your hand. He’d undoubtedly been forced to loosen up his normally rigid morning routine, foregoing his daily shave.

Zayne chuckles, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you smile innocently, “I can help.”

Zayne catches your fingers as they idly brush against his cheek, bringing them to his lips in a quick kiss.

“How exactly will you help, sweetheart?” His voice is thick with both exhaustion and desire, eyes hooded as he anticipates your next move.

Your heart flutters with excitement as you sit up, kneeling beside him. Zayne tracks you with his hazel eyes expectantly, his breathing quickening as your hands find his muscled shoulders.

Though you wanted nothing more than to mount him right then and there, you knew there was undeniable truth to his exhaustion. Standing for 15 hours at a time, hands and arms constantly locked into the most precise and expert micromovements, you couldn’t even imagine just how badly his body needed relief.

Zayne can’t stop the soft grunts that escape as you start working your delicate fingers into his sore muscles, eyes nearly rolling back.

“A massage. I see,” he grits breathlessly, fingers digging into the silk sheets.

“And here I thought…” he trails off, his green eyes practically glowing in the darkness of his bedroom as he looks up at you, growing hoarse as you press harder into him

He clears his throat, “Nevermind.”

You giggle, “Thought what?” You shift your weight onto your other knee, leaning over him so that you can focus on his other shoulder. Zayne swallows a curse as your chest looms slightly above his face, just out of reach. He feels his pants tightening as the soft skin of your breasts spills over the top of your flimsy camisole, illuminated only by the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains.

“Feel good?” you murmur, deceptively innocent.

Zayne’s lips quirk ever-so-slightly with amusement, catching onto your flirtatious whims, “My neck and shoulders are feeling much better.”

His hand reaches up to gently trace the loose strap of your top, sending a shiver down your spine. You nearly collapse onto him from that simple touch alone, unbearably deprived of him.

“Even my eyes…aren’t as tired as before,” his voice is gruff and low as his eyes flicker down, making your heart thump excitedly. His beautiful emerald eyes pause at your lips before raking down the soft skin of your collar that leads to your breasts. His mouth waters at the sight—hungrily taking in the view.

The same view that would invade his thoughts when he had five minutes to rest in his office between surgeries.

As Zayne’s fingers brush against your collarbone, your knees buckle and you nearly double over on top of him.

“Just sit on me, sweetheart,” Zayne murmurs, catching you gently with his palms against your ribs, “It’ll be easier for you.”

“Oh, easier huh?” you laugh, “for some reason I think it’ll definitely be harder.”

You throw your thigh over his lap and climb atop him. Your palms find purchase on his sturdy chest, able to feel the pounding of his heart under your wandering fingers.

Zayne groans as you straddle him, his hands automatically finding your thighs, kneading gently. His breath is heavy and uncontrolled as you situate yourself, grunts escaping his lips when your fingers begin digging into his knotted muscles again.

Your tummy flutters at the breathless pants he tries to hold back, biting your lip as your palms dig into his muscled chest. You could feel yourself dampening already as you planted yourself firmly against his solid body—excited by the knowledge that Zayne wanted something more. Just as you did

And by the feel of how insistently it was pressing against your shorts—he wanted it just as much, if not more, than you did.

Your fingers knead a steady path down his chest, gently working into his biceps. You unfurl the thickly tightened knots, undoubtedly exacerbated by his increased surgery schedule.

Zayne moans gently, fingers tightening against your hips when you press particularly roughly. You have to stop your own lewd sounds from escaping, unbelievably pent up and reactive to even just his hands on your waist. One of his hands abandons your hip, tenderly cupping your face in his large palm.

“I feel better already,” he murmurs gruffly, voice laced with frustratingly tamed desperation. “You’re more effective than the world’s strongest, most soothing medicine.”

You grin, heart fluttering with immense happiness, “Are you just flattering me because you feel bad for leaving me alone?”

Zayne chuckles softly, almost choking when you bear down on him. His thumb brushes across your bottom lip, gently coaxing it apart.

“Do you want some water? Your lips are dry.”

Sitting up and straightening your posture, you nod. When Zayne pours a glass for you, you shake your head and tap your lips silently.

Zayne’s eyes sparkle with amusement, “You haven’t learned to drink it on your own?”

Your grin widens and you shake your head ‘no.’ Zayne laughs gently, sitting up with you. Your eyes flutter as he adjusts the both of you, his erection pulsing under your own heat.

“Spoiled,” he murmurs, his back against the headboard as he brings the glass up to your parted lips, “Is this what happens when I leave you alone for too long?”

Instead of responding, you grind down onto him while taking the cool glass into your lips. Water dribbles down your chin and onto Zayne’s chest as you giggle at the way he writhes under your deliberately punishing movements.

“Steady now,” he grits out, his words laced with his heady breath. The hand that holds your hip crawls upward, cupping your back and pressing you closer to him.

He tilts the glass further as you gulp down the cool water, “Don’t rush. It’s spilling out.”

His words are innocent but your skin crawls deliciously, goosebumps forming as you stare into the moonlight reflected in his beautifully golden eyes.

As Zayne sets the glass back down on the night stand, you look down at how much water you’d let dribble down your chin and now onto both of your chests.

“Zayne,” you whine in a sing-song voice, “You spilled everywhere.”

Zayne raises an eyebrow at you, “Oh, did I now?”

“Yes,” you whisper simply, using your thumb to catch some of the escaped water that now drips down his collar. Zayne tenses, instinctively pressing you closer with his outstretched palm on your back.

“Alright. Then I’ll help clean you up,” he whispers into your ear, his fingers threading into the back of your head. His grip on your hair is firm but careful, making your body tingle excitedly.

Holding you in place, he leans back to inspect you carefully. You shiver at the dangerous shimmer in his eyes, a silent promise of all the things he’s planning to do to you tonight.

You cry out when he leans back in, his lips brushing against your collar. His tongue darts out to lick up the bead of water there.

“Zay—Zayne,” you whimper, squirming in his hold. You feel your arousal smear against your panties uncomfortably as you writhe against his impossibly hardened cock.

Zayne kisses the heated skin between the water he’d already licked up and the next droplet. With his lips never leaving your skin, he peers up at you through thick black eyelashes.

“This is what you wanted. Right?”

You moan at his question, back arching when he carefully pulls your top down, his kisses descending further as they follow the spilt water.

“Don’t know wh-what you’re talkin’ about,” you bite out between your desperate breaths, “Just wanted to help you feel better.”

Zayne readjusts subtly. His erection now sits proudly against both your abdomens, straining against the confinement of his slacks. You scoot closer to him, so close that his cock now nestles between your thighs.

“I knew it,” he groans, fingers tightening at the back of your skill. As he presses you urgently against himself, his hips rock against you, using the friction of your legs against his thick length.

“You wanted to do this to me again,” he whispers, half accusing and half pleased. It was impossible for him to hide just how badly he was enjoying this—that he’d been craving this all week.

You roll your hips against him, biting your lip as his bulge grinds into your covered lips, the pleasure shooting up from your hardened clit. Zayne detaches from your skin, throwing his head back with a groan, his Adam's apple bobbing with the weight of his pants.

He composes himself nearly instantly, sitting back up with dangerously heated eyes. Forcefully, he pulls your face to his, devouring you with his soft cold lips. His strong arms keep you locked against him, unable to escape even if you wanted to,

Your bodies move against each other like ocean waves as he explores your mouth methodically with his skilled tongue. He grips your scalp with enough force to make you whimper for more, his other hand palming your back.

Pulling away, Zayne moves back to the swell of your breasts. You gasp when he sucks on the area just above your pebbled nipple. Your body moves on its own accord, pressing into him and desperately trying to get him to envelope you whole.

When he doesn’t, you whine, “Zaaayne. You—nngh—you’re taking advantage!”

Zayne laughs against your chest, his breath warm against your sensitive flesh, “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Without giving you a chance to respond, he moves closer to where you want him most, “Aren’t we just…helping each other relax?”

With those foreboding words, he finally takes you fully into his skilled mouth. Your fingers tug at his hair at the overwhelming sensation, back arched so deeply your spine aches.

“Mmngh—! Zayne!”

Your breasts hang out over the top of your top as Zayne has his way with you. His tongue swirls around your sensitive peak, his other hand coming between you two so he can tweak the other with his finger tips.

Your eyes widen when Zayne bites down. with more force than he normally would. The sting chases all of the lingering drowsiness away, your excitement growing in the face of his aggressiveness. It mingles intoxicatingly with the overwhelming pleasure, pushing you closer to the cliff of climax with this single sensation alone.

With a soft pop, Zayne releases your breast—much to your dismay. He chuckles at your shell-shocked expression, gently tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Well, it’s all clean now.”

“You…” you gape in disbelief, upset at having your orgasm taken away. Not able to find the words to playfully berate him, you instead surprise him with a demanding kiss.

Zayne grunts in surprise but reciprocates seamlessly. As he graciously relents access, his lips parting for you. You take his submission as an opportunity to reach between the two of you and grasp his cock through his slacks. He goes rigid beneath you, nearly choking against your lips.

“Hah—” Zayne groans into your receptive mouth, tongue still deeply entangled with yours. His soft and labored grunts fuels you with confidence, releasing his cock to slip off your camisole and hugging him closer.

You wince when his chest presses against yours, your kiss bitten nipples stinging. Zayne registers your pain instantaneously, pulling back.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?” he asks, going into doctor mode. He tenderly cups your breast, thumb ghosting along the inflamed skin where his teeth had sunken in.

“Not at all,” you reassure, your hand rubbing his chest and undoing the buttons one by one, “Just tender. It’s been a while since I got to see you.”

“It has been a while,” Zayne agrees, dipping his head down to press a soft kiss to your sore nipple, “I missed you.”

You gasp when he takes the hardened peak back into his mouth, this time swirling his tongue around it soothingly. You grapple with his shirt before grabbing his bulge again, jerking it excitedly.

“I can tell. You’re so pent up. You really need to relax,” you giggle, undoing the zipper and button. His cock springs free, almost angrily, hitting his abdomen.

Zayne hisses as you expose him to the cool air-conditioned breeze of the bedroom.

“Does this also need to relax?” he asks, the plea clear in the way his eyes shine at you.

He needs you.

“Absolutely,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently as you take him into your outstretched fingers, “That’s all this is.”

Zayne groans, hips bucking slightly up into your hand.

“Of course, then. In the name of relaxation.”

You lean in teasingly, letting your lips brush against Zayne’s as your fist moves slowly up and down. His breath is hot on your skin as he grunts, struggling to breath steadily. He reaches up to grip the back of your head, closing the last of the minuscule distance between your lips, kissing you passionately.

“Different techniques for different muscles, hm?” he groans, “Sometimes, being skillful is what really makes a difference.”

He kisses you again, messy and pleading. Saliva dribbled down his chin, but he was so utterly desperate for you—for your perfect fingers, that he doesn’t even bother wiping it.

“Mnngh…” he moans your name deliciously, “I think…it’s getting more tense now.”

You giggle, languidly pumping him up and down. Zayne nearly bursts when you lubricate him with your own saliva, his cock lurching in your hands at the sight.

He swallows thickly, neck bobbing, “Perhaps…you could add a little more pressure?” His hips quiver as he fights from chasing a pleasure only you can give him.

When you give him a firm squeeze, Zayne throws his head back with a strangled moan. Still straddling him, your other hand comes down to cup his balls, wanting to work him into a release he so clearly needed.

Zayne moves his strong thighs beneath you, insistently brushing his thick muscles against your cunt. You try to focus on both the burning piece of flesh in your hands and your own please, riding his thigh diligently.

“How long were you planning to pull this stunt on me,” he demands breathlessly, gripping your chin.

“Nnngh—stunt?” you giggle breathlessly, pumping harder now, “I just missed you. Is that a crime?”

Zayne struggles to speak as you grind against his lap, biting out, “Haah…yes of course. I missed you, too.”

Your thumb teases his tip, smearing his pearly pre-cum around. Your entire palm is sticky with a mix of his seed and your saliva, “How much?”

Zayne chuckles before hissing, particularly sensitive near his thick head, “How much…?”

He brings your eyes to his, tilting your chin. There’s a dangerous darkness in his eyes that you can just barely make out against the moonlight. Your breath catches with excitement.

“From another perspective…” he drawls, eyes hooded as he takes you in, “I suppose I’m also your special dose of medicine.”

You shiver, enjoying hearing that he misses you, needs you, as much as you did him.

That as many lonely nights you spent without him, he spent those same nights in his office, thinking of you.

He gently removes your hand from his erection, holding you in his strong arms. He sets you down on the bed on your back, hovering over you. He deftly undresses, leaving him stark naked in the moon’s glimmering spotlight. Unfairly and unbearably beautiful.

“Let me tell you…” he promises darkly, leaning down so he can ghost his breath across your parted lips. His biceps bulge when lifts you by your hips, removing both your shorts and panties. A shadow overcomes his hazel eyes when he sees your glistening skin staring back at him. Taunting him. Beckoning him.

“Tell me what, Zayne?” You hold his face in your hands, feeling indescribably blissful to have him in your bed, your arms, again.

Lining himself up with your entrance, Zayne tucks your hair away from your eyes, rubbing himself up and down your weeping slit. The feeling of your arousal against his sensitive flesh makes his jaw tick dangerously.

“…How much I missed you when we couldn’t see each other.”

With that promise, he pushes himself into you, wrapping your thighs around his waist for leverage so he can kiss you freely.

Your cries are drowned out by his ravenous lips, fueled by a hunger only you could sate. Nails digging into his shoulders, your thighs tense around him—almost unable to take his massive member after so many days without it.

Zayne rips his face away with a strangled gasp, saliva connecting your parted lips.

“Relax,” he pleads, his voice a strangled growl as he cries your name, “Relax, sweetheart. You’re squeezing me so tightly.”

“S-Sorry Zayne, I—anngh—can’t control it,” you whimper, thighs trembling. You try to focus on your breathing, “H-Hurts when we haven’t i-in a while.”

Zayne strokes your cheek apologetically, stilling his hips so you have time to adjust, “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Though he’d never hurt you, it takes everything in him to not bury himself entirely inside of your irresistible heat after weeks without you.

Your heart swells and you kiss him eagerly. His soft tongue, his intoxicating taste, his soothing fingers—it’s enough to make the pain ebb away into nothing but a pleasure you’d missed so terribly.

When you withdraw, Zayne kisses down your jaw, “Does it still hurt?”

You shake your head ‘no,’ causing Zayne’s eyes to darken considerably with excitement. He presses a thumb to your clit, pressing your stomach down with his other palm when you lurch forward. Carefully, as he plays with your hardened bud, he sinks another inch into you.

“What about this?” he pants, almost begging you to say yes, “Does it feel better? Or…do you want to change positions?”

Zayne hisses when you squirm, inadvertently sinking him deeper into your pussy. The pain has quickly dissipated into a familiar ache that you so desperately crave, especially as you watch the pleasure that contorts Zayne’s flawless features.

“No,” you say shakily, “I want to see you.”

Zayne’s throat bobs at your words, bringing your fingers up to his lips and pressing soft soothing kisses into them. With your limited mobility, you try to grind against him, wanting more.

“Zaaaayne,” you whine, not even caring about the sting anymore—or how pathetically desperate you sounded. You needed him and you needed him now, “Just do it and stop asking questions.”

He pants as you wriggle against him, gritting his teeth with restraint, “What do you mean?” His question comes off tauntingly rhetorical.

He sinks another inch into you—domineering, possessive, and demanding.

“Didn’t you ask me how much I missed you?”

Another inch deeper, bruises forming on your thighs from his grip. He devours your filthy cries, every whimper fueling his desire. His hips are intentional against the back of your thighs, your legs dangling over his shoulders now.

“Nnngh—f-fuck—!” you whimper, threading your fingers into his soft black hair.

Any restraint he once showed has disappeared, especially when he can see the pleasure in your cockdrunk expression. He’s an impossible mix of careful and unrestrained, losing himself to the feeling of your perfect pussy—nearly drunk off you.

How did he go without this for weeks?

“I missed you so damn badly, beautiful,” he grits, jaw clenched with exertion as he revisits his earlier words, “I would never rush this.”

The moonlight reflects off the thin sheen of sweat on Zayne’s muscled chest, “Not when you feel like heaven wrapped around me.”

Pressing you deeper into this mind-numbing hold, Zayne molds his mouth against yours. His tongue is demanding, pushing against yours as it demands access to every part of you—tasting and devouring you like a full course meal. When he pulls away, his chest is heaving nearly as roughly as his hips against yours.

“I plan on taking my time with you.”

Your eyes roll back and flutter at his filthy promises, knowing just how truly he means them. Your entire body shakes at Zayne’s punctuated thrusts—even the expensive bed frame feels unstable as it rattles against the drywall.

“C-Can’t—! Oh…god!” you cry, fingernails digging into the delicate silk sheets. Zayne’s eyes flicker down to your white knuckles before taking your hand into his. He holds both your shaky hands above your head, just one of his larger palms able to restrain both of them.

At your drooping eyelids, Zayne taunts lightheartedly—amused, “You can. Or are you tired already? Do you want to sleep?”

There’s an underlying playful lilt to his words, and you roll your eyes, ”Hah—not a chance.”

Zayne’s lips turn up, “Good. Because we’re not done here and quitting halfway isn’t something I would do.”

Your gut clenches with desire, inexplicably enjoying his playful taunts. He fucks the words out of you as he rolls his hips into yours, his heavy balls grazing your other entrance with every intentful thrust. His words become increasingly erratic as he loses himself to your tight warmth.

“The night is still young,” he rasps, sweating beading down his pale skin, “We have plenty of time to re-learn each other.”

Not that Zayne would ever need to re-learn anything about you. He’d memorized every little thing about you. But you nod eagerly in agreement, unable to form words as he reaches your deepest, most sensitive, spots—the throbbing veins of his cock indenting into your soft gummy walls.

Nothing would ever compare to this. To Zayne. To how he made you feel. How he made your body sing.

You’d never be able to live without this.

“Let me hear your voice,” Zayne demands roughly between his gasps for air. His forearms brace on either side of your head as he deepens the mating press he has you in.

“Right now.”

This kind of desperation was rarely given so openly from Zayne. Not that he wasn’t desperate for you, because he was, but he was just a man of such unfettered control that it rarely ever presented itself like this.

But when it did, it consumed you whole—leaving you at the complete mercy of his every wish.

“A-All night,” you babble in agreement, nearing an explosive peak, “However many times you want.” Zayne groans in satisfaction, kissing you with a fiery passion that nearly suffocates you.

He wipes the saliva from your lips with his thumb, praising you affectionately, “Just like that, love.”

Seeing the nearly feral desire in his eyes, you do your best to speak—wanting more of Zayne’s desperation, “I—hah—fucking missed you. O-Oh god, so much!”

Zayne’s hips stutter at your strangled cries, his fingertips turning frosty as his Evol runs with his intense emotions for you—for this moment he’d been dreaming of for weeks. He releases your wrists.

“Did you, sweetheart?” he groans, one hand digging into the globes of your ass while the other finds your clit. You scream at the sensation of his icy fingers, the shocking stimulation short-circuiting your already muddled brain.

“Mnngh—s-soo badly,” you reaffirm brokenly, hardly able to form words.

Your orgasm builds at an alarming pace, especially after it’d been abruptly taken away from you earlier. The addition of his frost-tipped fingers is nearly enough to send you over the edge, but you hold back—wanting more than anything to fall with him.

And even after weeks without this, Zayne knows your body—every tremble, every whimper—like the back of his hand. It all belonged to him.

“Don’t hold out on me,” he whispers, voice low and demanding, squeezing your nipple between his frozen fingertips—not in punishment but rather desperate to pull your orgasm from you.

Your squeals bounce off the walls, unable to take much more. It was all too much for your poor body. Your stolen orgasm, the weeks without him. His cock felt almost bigger than it normally was, nearly swollen with all the cum that he’d craved to fill you with. His Evol was less controlled—overstimulating your poor hardened clit and nipple alike.

“W-Wait—!” you cry, unconvincingly at that—your body rolls into Zayne’s hips, meeting his every torrid thrust, “S’close Zayne!”

Zayne stutters as you clamp down on him, voice hoarse as your cries—your body— drives him to absolute madness.

”Don’t hold out on me, beautiful,” he repeats, reaffirming his heated demands, “Just like that.”

Your attempts at holding back are hopeless—no match against Zayne. Not when he’d been deprived of your sweet orgasms for the last two weeks. He truly was a starved animal, lost in the hunt.

“G-God—you feel divine,” Zayne groans in awe, stuttering uncharacteristically while his hips grow increasingly erratic and untamed.

Your back arches off the bed, vision growing blurry as Zayne brings you closer and closer to the precipice. The veins on his forearm grow more prominent, hooking it under your spine. He holds you tightly to his damp chest, burying his face into your neck with his lips at your ear.

“Just what I needed,” he grunts, “I’ve been thinking about you—every single day.”

You cling to his shoulders, nearly sobbing with pleasure—tears pooling in your eyes, “I’m so c-close!”

Zayne presses his cool lips to your temple, breath hot as he comforts you, “I know. Let go for me.”

He seals his words with another breathtaking kiss, pulling away to look deeply in your hooded eyes—your name is a sacred prayer on his tongue,

“Say my name.”

That single plea shatters your remaining control, your orgasm consuming your body whole. It ravages every nerve in your body, blinding you and rendering you absolutely destroyed.

“Zayne—!” you cry, nails digging into his back, “F-Fuck—m’cumming!”

Zayne moans, struggling to withstand how tightly you clench against him, sucking him in and refusing to let go—to withstand how you sing his name as you explode against his cock still hammering into you.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he grunts, working himself into an absolute frenzy, unbearably close to cumming himself.

You gasp for air as Zayne firmly tugs against your hair, exposing your neck before him.

“Fuck—oh god!” you ramble, “Zayne!”

The way you scream his name proves to be Zayne’s absolute undoing.

“You’re so good for me,” Zayne rasps, “I’m c-close.”

You do your best to nod, your entire body wracked with the tremors of your long overdue orgasm. The way Zayne stutters, both words and rhythm, makes you delirious with satisfaction. He prolongs your orgasm, determined to feel your walls milking him when he cums, the unrelenting ecstasy of your climax ebbing throughout your every nerve ending.

“I need to make up for lost time,” he rambles with his teeth clenched, “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yes, please!” you beg, desperate to be flooded by him. The slick moisture smears between your joined bodies, wet sounds joining the sounds of both your pleasure.

Zayne hugs you impossibly tight as he explodes inside of you, painting your insides milky white. Your hips scream in protest, your body folded nearly in half, but your arms grip him closer. He chants your name as he cums, desperation reaching new heights as you milk him unbearably dry.

“Mnngh—that’s it,” he murmurs darkly, thrusting wildly through his violent orgasm, “All of it. You’re perfect.”

His lips claim every inch of skin he can reach, your body covered with sweat and saliva. Goosebumps form in his wake as he gasps your name repeatedly, voice broken and vulnerable.

“S-So full,” you whisper raggedly, feeling bloated as his burning seed drips down your thighs. You look down, inspecting the glistening mess smeared against your thighs and Zayne’s marbled pelvis.

Zayne inhales deeply, his lips at your temple. His lengthy fingers stroke your hair tenderly, hips still rocking into you as he tries to fuck the cum back into you.

“I know,” he murmurs, “I said I missed you.”

Zayne shifts, rolling on to his side without detaching from you. You whine softly as he cradles you back into his strong chest, making sure he keeps himself plugged inside of you.

“How do you feel?” he whispers, “I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?”

His fingers find your trembling thighs, digging his skilled fingers into them. He massages you gently, sending your eyes rolling back.

“Ah…I feel fine. Better than I have in weeks,” you reassure, kissing the corner of his lips. As Zayne continues to work his hands into your aching muscles, you moan and squirm—unable to keep from reacting to his expert touch.

He holds you in place, his hips shallowly thrusting into you in warning—still hard and twitching.

“Sweetheart…” he warns lowly, “Behave.”

You laugh, eyes sparkling with amusement. Sighing in contentment, you press your head against his chest. Zayne’s arms tighten around you, his fingers still cold from his Evol as they stroke your burning skin, pressing innocent kisses into your temple and forehead.

“Relaxed?” you ask, feeling your eyelids droop as the drowsiness sets back in—especially after the ringer he’d put your poor body through. Your hands rub soothing circles on his back, feeling bad as your fingers trace the deep scratches you’d left there.

“Yes,” he breathes you in, committing the scent to memory—especially knowing there’d be more weeks like this, “There’s no medicine in the world quite like you.”

“Damn right,” you grin playfully even as your eyelashes flutter heavily. Zayne chuckles at your haughty words

“But…” he drawls, voice hushed against your sensitive earlobes, “I haven’t had my fill.”

You shiver, whining as Zayne gently shakes you back awake. Even as your mind craves sleep, your body reacts readily to Zayne’s movements, his words.

“Wake up sweetheart,” he murmurs seductively, breath hot in your ear. Your stomach lurches with excitement, “I still need you.”

“No. I’m asleep,” you mumble playfully, keeping your eyes closed. He chuckles at your adorable antics, big hands rubbing up and down your thighs. It wasn’t often that Zayne was so vocal with his carnal desires, and that alone easily broke down your resolve.

“My schedule won’t be lightening any time soon,” he sighs darkly, “I need to give you something to remember me by.”

You moan as Zayne gently presses his thumb into your clit, the rough digit cold with the effects of his Evol—no doubt on purpose. He knew you loved when he used it on you.

“Zayne…” you mumble, halfway between a warning and a plea.

His icy fingertips collect the pearly essence that had dripped down your soft thighs, smearing it against your lips, still stretched out over his cock buried inside you.

“This isn’t nearly enough. Not when I have so much more to give you.”

Yeah, there was no way you could say no to that.

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