3fingersofscotch

[3fingersofscotch]

I've written this!

After having a horrible experience with an ex-boyfriend, Sylus shows you that your worth isn’t sex.

Comment if you want me to tag you in the fic drop!

i need someone to write on lads li with their partner SCARED of intimacy

reverse comfort because I often see vice-versa, but I crave desperately the reassurance they’d give, how patient they would be. Rafayel cracking not because he’s feeling vulnerable, but because the love of his life is. sylus quiet never intruding their(reader’s) personal space unless they initiate (kinda canon). not even a kiss lol. zayne understanding the struggle and maybe too blunt as always, but oh zayne…..

badass is cool but i wish there were other things to relate to. like…. the above

[3fingersofscotch]

Need a insanely respectful mob boss to rearrange your guts? This is the fic.

Vow - Part 3

Synopsis: You need to fix this. It’s not about protection anymore, you need him. Just him. And what you don’t know yet… he needs you too.

AN: I've decided to post shorter parts instead of ~20k chapters. It means I can post more often and enjoy the process a lil more. I can also provide more cliffhangers. Smile. Cover image from Pinterest.

Content Warnings: Explicit language & sexual themes, serious injuries, blood, graphic violence & implied death, medical terms/procedures described, HEAVY praise kink, Cunnilingus, Genital Piercings, Dom!Sylus & Domestic!Sylus in one chapter (delicious), Sub/Brat!FMC (reader), Mating Press (yas pls), 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 8.1k

Sylus’s POV

She hates you. She thinks you’re a monster. And she’s right. Becoming the leader of Onychinus wasn’t exactly agreed upon over a business luncheon. You killed for the right to bare the title. But it's not all about violence and illegal protocore trading, you’ve made an impact. Legal businesses, safe places to live, it’s better than it was when you arrived. But she’ll only ever see your darkness.

You’re not even paying attention to how fast you’re going at this point. You know the roads to take, the alleys to avoid and officers won’t pull you over. Police in the Zone have given up chasing your bike - they know better. You also pay most of them to keep their noses clean. Yes, technically they’re still dirty cops since they’re taking a bribe, but they’re actually protecting people now that they’re well paid. 

A warehouse on the water, your intel wasn’t rock solid, but it was enough to go off of. You’ll burn the whole complex down if you need to. Once you spot the Escalade you try to ignore the feeling of disappointment. A little arson would have been nice. 

You park your bike behind a box truck and remove your helmet. With every step closer to the entryway, you feel the ground pulse with energy, you sense 6 distinct sources. One of which is approaching the door you need to get through. Wouldn’t it be nice… 

“Fuck –” 

The man who swings open the door immediately recognizes you, but he’s thrown back before he can utter another word. Chaos ensues as the other men rise to their feet and unholster their weapons. To your surprise, their weapons are advanced and definitely use protocore power. Seems Onychinus has a rat, Volkova has been building his arsenal with your weapons.

Okay, well, maybe the rat is doing you a favor, these weapons are absolute shit. Letting the bullets phase through you is easier than dodging at this point, so when half of their guns jam it just means time saved. You disarm the men, their guns dismantled and displaced. A stray bullet from the man upstairs rips through your jacket and into your upper back. You’re accustomed to pain, but it still stings like a bitch.

“Annoying…” You mutter.

The man disintegrates where he stands. The other men, who’ve barely regained their footing, barrel towards you. Paying them half-a-mind, you continue walking to the back office where your primary target most likely has dick in his hand, celebrating a victory that hasn’t come to pass. He really needs to stop doing that, has he learned nothing?

A knife wedges itself deep between your ribs. If it was a normal knife you would have laughed, but Volkova has smuggled protocore knives from Linkon. Of course he has. The knife erupts, sending a burst of heat through your side. Falling forward, you try to yank it out, but two men pile on top of you. 

“I got him!”

“Sure about that?”

One’s sent straight up in the air, knocking the other man aside. You pull the knife free and roll over. As the man descends, you hold out your arm so he lands directly on the knife, the blade buried in his stomach. Using his corpse as a weapon, you fling him across the room to knock down the other men. With the rest of them unconscious, you brush yourself off and try to ignore the brutal sting in your side. 

You bring the only worthwhile weapon in the room back to you with a snap of your fingers. A knife with explosive capabilities that localizes to the wound? Sure, you’ll keep this one. You wipe the blood off on your pants and head into the next room.

As soon as you’re inside, a door flies open and a large man - no, large isn’t the right word… A colossal, behemoth, a monstrosity of man steps through. You didn’t realize the Hulk’s body was attainable. He doesn’t have a weapon, he doesn’t need one, he is one. Your mind buzzes with anticipation, immediately calculating the size of the room, your current injuries dampening your evol, his fist size… This one might hurt. 

“Malen'kiy chelovek, ukhodi.” 

“I’ve never been called little before. Well…”

She had suggested “Lil S” as a nickname. The way her eyes twinkled as she giggled, so pleased with herself. Did she get home safely?

“Malen'kiy chelovek umret.”

Damn, your Russian is rusty. 

“Bol'shoy chelovek, zatknis' nakhuy.”

Big man is not pleased, telling this beast of a man to shut the fuck up may have been a bad move. But he did just threaten to kill you, so it’s only fair. He roars and only needs three steps to reach you. His massive hand is around your throat and if your evol hadn’t been on autopilot, your head would be rolling across the floor like a bouncy ball right now. You grunt and gasp as he lifts you up, your feet kicking to find some kind of leverage. 

The knife in your hand rips through his suit and slices at the flesh of his forearms. He shouts and hurls you across the room, so this is what it feels like… Your body slams into the wall and the room dims for a moment. Ears ringing, blood trickling down your forehead, a few bones definitely broken, you lay on the floor and regain control of your lungs. Your giant friend stalks over. You keep your eyes closed, feeling the vibrations through the floor, his energy pattern forming a bright outline behind your eyelids. Closer, just a bit closer.

“Malen'kiy chelovek ne sootvetstvuyet legende.” 

Rude, he’s catching you on an off day, you write your own legends of course they’re accurate. He crouches and your eyes flutter open, barely able to make out his face as he blocks out the light above you. But his smile is unmistakable. 

“Arrogant…” 

With your last bit of energy, you roll and jab the knife between his eyes. The son-of-a-bitch staggers and falls forward. Sitting up on your knees you put all your body weight onto the knife, ending the poor bastard's miserable existence. You have to use your foot to pull the knife free, like hell you’re leaving it now. 

It’s been a very long time since you’ve emerged from a fight looking bloody and beaten. And you haven’t even confronted Volkova. You sigh and limp up the stairs to the final door, only one pulse of energy is in this room. Kicking the door in, you see Volkova lounging in an armchair in the corner, like he’s been waiting for you. 

A monitor on his desk flashes, scenes of the wreckage you’ve caused. You smile.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

Volkova stands, walking to the desk to lean against the edge.

“Watching you get thrown around was certainly entertaining.”

You take a cautious step forward, then another, slowly closing the distance.

“You should learn to fall from grace with… well, grace. Maybe then you’ll finally earn the respect you crave.”

He smiles and lifts a hand to run his fingers through his beard. 

“You think I haven’t noticed? How your plot to fuck me over by using her has become… well… Sylus, you’re the one who told me that happy endings don’t work out for men like us. Or do I have to remind you of what happened last time you tried?”

Your scream is raw and unfiltered, barely recognizable. He doesn’t get to mention her. You lunge for him, tackling him over the desk to the floor. He lands a punch to your jaw which knocks you back. He tries to get on top of you, but you send your knee into his gut. You’ve hit your limit, there’s no energy left in your tank. So you rely on your training, forcing the knife in your hand against his throat. The asshole smiles, even as a trail of blood begins to stain his shirt collar. 

“Touched a nerve? What makes her so special?”

“She’s mine.”

You flip the knife around and place the tip over his heart. He glares at you, his wicked smile remains, making your head pound. The pressure behind your eyes becomes unbearable and the familiar silence that precedes the glow begins. Volkova notices, you’re sure of it, because he finally shuts his mouth. A voice, you know it to be your own, but ancient and rigid, echoes through the small office. 

“The only reason you are still alive is because of her. An angel begging the devil to change his ways. You will leave the N109 Zone. You will stay away from her. Or you will watch everything you’ve built, everything you care about, burn before you have the honor of meeting your fate. Do you understand me?”

Volkova nods, but his eyes tell a different story. His rage knows no bounds, but he’s finally afraid. Like he should have been all along.

By the time you reach your bike the front of your shirt is soaked in sweat and blood. If you can make it home without crashing you’ll have a hell of a mess to clean up. What if she left? The thought sobers you and you push your bike to the limit to carry you home.

Stumbling through the elevator door, you nearly collapse onto the entry table. Taking small steps, you carefully shed your clothing. Your favorite jacket ruined with a large caliber exit through the front, shredding the leather holding the sleeve up. Your previously ash gray tank top stained brown with drying blood, a tear where the knife pushed through. Even your gloves are soaked as you peel them off, droplets of blood drip off your fingertips. 

The door to the bathroom slams against the wall, so much for being quiet. You close the door with your foot and limp to the sink, opening the mirror cabinet to retrieve the medkit and a few extra bandages. You look back and realize the mess you’ve made, footprints, a smear over the door, the sink spotted. Opting to use the shower as your recovery room, you slide down the cool tile wall. You hold a gauze pad over the wound on your side and close your eyes.

“Come on… Come on…” 

If only willpower was enough to refuel your evol. It’ll be awhile before you’re strong enough to close these wounds. Searching through the medkit you find some antiseptic wipes and spray, surgical tape and compression bandages. A single spritz of the spray has you groaning, why does that sting so goddamn much…

You’ve barely secured the compression bandage when a wave of dizziness overwhelms you. Resting your head against the shower wall, you hold pressure on the leaking wound to your side. With your other hand you feel your pants pockets only to realize you’ve left your phone in your jacket. Which is out in the hallway. Which is too far for you to crawl at this moment in time. You should have called Zayne before driving home… There’s another option, but she’s probably asleep. And she hates you. 

Waking up after crying yourself to sleep is never pleasant. Your eyes are puffy, your nose is stuffy, your head hurts, your pillow is wet with tears. You sit up slowly and press your palms over your eyes. You’ll never be able to go back to sleep with a headache like this. You need to wash your face again, maybe that will help. 

You wrap a throw blanket around your shoulders and shuffle out the door. The kitchen is dark, but you don’t want to risk Sylus finding out you’re awake. If he’s even home… You grab a water bottle out of the fridge and lean against the counter to down half of it. The “medical stuff” box is still in your closet, you might have some painkillers in there. 

As you walk back to your room, you notice the light by the elevator is still on. It’s automatic, which means Sylus must have just come home not that long ago. You take another step, but a heap on the floor by the elevator stops you. Curiosity gets the better of you and you get closer. It’s his jacket… And there’s muddy footprints all over the place. 

It’s not raining.

You look closer and cover your mouth to swear under your breath. It’s blood. You shrug off the blanket around your shoulders and toss it over a chair in the entryway. Following the bloody trail down the hallway, you find a smear of blood on the door to the bathroom. Just as you’re about to open the door you hear a low groan. Panic overwhelms you and before you can stop to consider what you’re walking in on, you throw open the door.

Jumping over the bloody boot prints, you enter the room and immediately spot Sylus sitting in the shower. You rush over to him and crouch down, dropping to your knees next to him. He’s patched himself up as best he can, but you can already tell there are a few wounds that need sutures. He hasn’t looked up so you assume he’s unconscious. You reach across his lap to retrieve the medkit beside him and scream when he grabs your wrist.

“Fuck! Sylus… oh my god, I thought you were unconscious. What happened?” 

“I’m fine.” 

His voice is strained and his breathing is labored. You’ve been a doctor long enough to know better. Why is he being so stubborn?

“You’re bleeding, you’re obviously not fine.”

“My evol will… fix it… I just need time… “

“Well your evol isn’t fixing it fast enough, you’ll bleed out. Let me –”

“Just go. I’m fine.”

“Sylus, stop. Let me help you.”

Is he pushing you away because he’s angry? Or because he’s in pain and doesn’t want you to see him like this? It doesn’t matter, you’re not going to let him bleed out. You grab the medkit and take inventory of the tools you have at your disposal. It’s not much, but you’ll make do. You reach out to lift the gauze on his side that is soaked through, but he stops you.

“Sylus…”

“Go.”

“No, I’m not leaving!”

He tries to move away, but you grab his shoulder making him wince.

“Sylus. Stop.”

He closes his eyes, he won’t admit defeat, but he won’t keep pushing you away. You’ll take what you can get at this point. You replace the gauze on his side and stand to scavenge through the medicine cabinet. To your surprise, you find another medkit with a small sewing kit inside. The kit labels the thread as a nylon material, so you hurry to the sink to wash your hands. When you turn around you see Sylus look away. You’d forgotten you were only wearing a thin t-shirt and panties to bed. It’s not like you’re going to throw on scrubs, he’s seen everything now… You return to his side and put on a pair of gloves out of the first medkit and sanitize the needle. 

“You’re wasting your time, they’ll be closed by morning.”

“I don’t care.” 

You clean the area as best you can and hold the wound closed. Sylus grabs your hand again.

“I don’t need –”

“Sylus, stop it! You’re the worst patient I’ve ever had! Now sit still and shut the fuck up!”

He stares at you with wide eyes. You can’t tell if he’s angry or amused, but it seems he’s done fighting. He lets you go and leans back. He winces and swears under his breath as you begin suturing his wound closed. You work quickly since you don’t have any anesthetic and if you think about the sight in front of you for too much longer, your hands will start to shake. You spread an antibiotic cream around the edges of the wound and place another bandage on top. 

The bruises forming over his ribcage and on his jaw are massive, but they seem to fluctuate, like a pulse. He said his evol would “fix it” - so he can self-heal? His body must be trying so hard to repair the damage. Patching up a few of his wounds may help his evol replenish faster. You don’t stop, suturing the exit wound on his chest next before having him lean forward to address the entry point. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Once you finish, he rolls his shoulder to test the strength of your stitches. You take his hand again, opening your own to begin cooling your skin with your evol. Tiny snow crystals form over your fingers. But before you can cover the swollen skin he, once again, pulls back.

“Why didn’t you go to Zayne?”

He remains silent. You rest your frosted hand over the bandage on his chest and he gasps, but he still refuses to look at you. His avoidance only irritates you further and your eyes soon glaze over with tears. You always cry when you’re mad and right now, you’re positively livid. 

“Sylus, you could have died. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means, it doesn’t matter. I bleed, heal, rinse and repeat.”

“So what? You almost bleed out in a bathroom and you what? You don’t care?”

“And you do?”

“Stop it!”

“What?” 

He looks away, but you grab his jaw and pull his focus back to you. He flinches as you hold his slightly swollen jaw still.

“Stop acting like if something happened to you it wouldn’t matter.”

“Would it?”

You slam your other hand down against the wall beside his head. As you hover over him, he just watches you, his once vibrant eyes vacant and misty. You can’t do this anymore. You can’t aimlessly flirt or fight with this man and watch him return to you battered and bloody. Because one day, he might not return at all.

“It would matter to me.”

“Why?” He whispers.

“Because yours is too…”

He remains silent, his lips try to form words but fail, so you continue.

“Your life is important to me. I don’t… I…I can’t lose you…”

Ignoring the fear, the worry, the doubt, the inconvenient timing, you grab his face and dive forward to kiss him. Your tender kiss becomes feral as soon as he grabs onto your hips, dragging you onto his lap. He groans into your mouth, his aching jaw long forgotten as he holds onto you, digging his fingers into your bare thighs. 

You suck on his bottom lip which earns you a delicious moan. A gentle bite and a smile forms on his kiss-swollen lips. Your hands thread through his hair, keeping him in place to continue your attack. It’s all teeth and tongue and gasps and groans, your mind goes blank as you surrender to the ecstasy of simply being close to this man. His fingers dip under the hem of your shirt, you roll your hips as you press your body against his. The unmistakable hardness of his cock strains against his jeans, you can feel him shake as you roll your hips a second time. 

“Angel…” 

He mumbles against your lips as he tries to break away. You kiss his cheek, his jaw, and continue down his neck. His breathing is staggered, his cocky laugh not so cocky. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You sit back and grab the bottom of your shirt, pulling it over your head and dropping it to the floor beside him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, not sure where to look first. Your flushed face, your glistening skin, your heaving breasts, your nipples just begging to be touched and bitten. You press your naked chest against his, his nipple rings providing a chill that sends a shiver down your spine. His hands travel up your back, his warm palms keeping you pinned against him.

“Yes… Sylus please…” You whisper against his ear.

He places a gentle kiss to the center of your chest, continuing along your collarbone and up the side of your neck. Your head tilts back and your eyes close. The wet heat of his tongue dragging along the center of your throat pulls a whimper from deep in your chest. His hands knead the flesh of your hips as his lips capture yours again. He wastes no time, opening his own mouth to invite your tongue inside. You might blackout if he keeps kissing you like this, but fuck… you don’t want him to stop.

You’re suddenly off balance and cling to his shoulders as he stands. You allow him to guide your legs around his waist, but look down at him with concern.

“You’re hurt… I –”

Sylus squeezes your ass and you jolt, your thighs tensing in a futile attempt to control your own arousal. He carefully side steps the bloody boot prints and carries you out into the hall.

“This…” He kisses your shoulder. “Is helping…”

He continues to hold you close, one hand spread across your back, the other supporting your thigh. You let your hand roam over his shoulder and back, the swelling around the gunshot entry is already subsiding. Maybe this is helping his evol replenish… in some odd way… Not that you’re complaining. 

The door to his bedroom slams against the wall and he hurries inside. He drops you on his bed and you sit up on your elbows to watch him. He undoes his belt and whips it off in one smooth motion. You bite your lip and try to shift onto your knees, but he stops you, grabbing your ankles and yanking you towards him. You giggle in response, he drops his knee beside your hip and bends forward to kiss you again. He kisses you breathless while his hands work your sensitive nipples. Rolling, pinching, tugging. When he lowers his head to suck one into his mouth, his tongue flicking at a languid pace, you dig your nails into his back and whine. 

“Sy…”

He sits up on his knees and just looks down at you. You reach out for him and he takes hold of your hands, threading his fingers with yours. His eyes roam over your body, smirking at every mark that has started to darken on your neck and breasts.

“Last chance, angel. Tell me you want this.”

Holding his hands tightly, you drop yours onto the bed above you, forcing him to lower his body onto yours. His hips press against your core and you lock your legs around him. 

“I don’t want this.”

Your mis-matched actions and words leave him dumbfounded. 

“I want you.”

His lips seal against yours, his chest pressed down to feel your heartbeat in tandem with his. You slide your hands free and rub his sides, careful not to touch the bandages. His pants were already unbuttoned and hanging loosely around his hips, you wanted them off. Now. You try to push the fabric down, but don’t get far when he takes hold of your wrists.

“Don’t you think…”

He quickly tucks an arm under your hips and brings them off the bed. You gasp and when he lets go of your wrists, you fist the bedding to level yourself. With his other hand free, he lifts your hips higher, sitting back on his heels. His hot breath across your inner thigh makes you whimper. 

“I need to regain my strength first?”

His fingers drag along the hem of your lace panties. You close your eyes, trying to ignore the embarrassment of how incredibly wet you already are. As his tongue darts out to swipe over the wet spot on the fabric you arch your back and gasp. You need to tell him. 

“I should have something to eat first.”

He lowers your hips just enough to slip your panties down, working them off one leg at a time. His hands lift your legs and hook them over his shoulders, his face inches away from your throbbing center. You release the bedding and reach for his hands, trying to get his attention. He feels your tension and stops, lowering you back on the bed. 

“What? Do you want to stop?”

You shake your head. He lets your hips meet the mattress and settles down on his elbows over you. His forehead rests against yours as one of his hands strokes your hip. 

“I just need to tell you something…”

He nods, urging you to continue. You’re sure you’re as red as a tomato and your lip is quivering. You’ve never told a guy this… You just keep it to yourself and pretend everything is fine. But with Sylus, you don’t want it to be like the rest. You actually feel something for him, not just a physical attraction, but something more... You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

“No one’s ever… done that and made me… uhm…”

“Come?”

Your eyes snap open and see him looking at you with brows raised. 

“It’s a me thing, I think. I just… I think…”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You think too much. And, if I had to guess, whoever tried before wasn’t putting your needs first, were they?”

You look away and bury your face in his shoulder. He chuckles and kisses your neck sweetly. 

“Sweetie, I don’t care if I have to spend all night between your legs, you’re going to come for me. Many times. And if you try to fake it…”

He pauses and just as you open your mouth to ask, he bites your neck. It’s not painful, but it takes you by surprise. A splendid, disturbing, thrilling surprise. 

“I’ll have to punish you.” He whispers.

He pushes off of the bed and kneels at the side of the bed. You barely have time to prop yourself up on your elbows before your legs are over his shoulders and his mouth is on you. You scream, the instantaneous burst of pleasure that shoots through you as he sucks on your clit is overwhelming. His hands keep your legs spread, you're completely exposed to him. He moans as he feasts, his tongue dipping down to your entrance. You immediately tense up and he feels it. He returns his mouth to your clit, his tongue teasing with precision. His fingers move away from your thigh to play at your entrance. Circling, dipping and finally thrusting inside. He takes his time, his movements precise. He pays attention to your responses, if you tense he stops and tries something else. It’s not long before he finds the perfect combination that has you writhing and trying to ride his face.

Three fingers in, curling upwards like he’s beckoning for your orgasm to come closer. His lips sealed around your clit, sucking while his tongue flicks the bundle of nerves rapidly. The occasional bite makes your hips lift and your vision to blur. The thought of faking crosses your mind but he bites your inner thigh and your back arches off the bed. You scramble, trying to get away, every touch sends you closer to either an edge or a wall and you’re terrified to find out which.

“Don’t run from it sweetie… look at me.”

Through blurry eyes, you see him looking up at you, his mouth and nose buried in you. The way his eyes glisten, half-lidded like he’s drunk off of your essence alone, his pupils wide with just a sliver of crimson circling them. He pumps his fingers faster and your entire body tingles, he pries your fingers away from the bedspread, threading them with his. Your habit of overthinking resurfaces - the way his mouth moves, his tongue, the way he’s watching you, his hand squeezing yours. What if you can’t? What if he gets upset? What if – fuck…

“Sylus. Sylus! Ahhh… Sy…!”

Your body convulses as your eyes roll back and your head hits the mattress. Sylus moans loudly, his mouth moving ever so slightly to make sure not a drop of your release is wasted. When your breathing steadies and your hips twitch, Sylus lowers you and crawls up the bed to hold you, his fingers comb through your damp hair. 

Before you can register what emotion is bubbling up, a sob escapes you. Tears stream down your cheeks and you can barely open your eyes. Sylus cradles you and strokes your back.

“Did I hurt you? Fuck… I… I’m sorry…”

“No no no you… you didn’t!” You whisper.

He rolls over on his side and extends his arm for you to rest your head. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and dries your tears with his thumb. When you finally force your eyes open, you see his worry-laced expression and bring your own hand to his face.

“You silenced the storm…”

You want to say more, but Sylus presses a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“I think you silenced mine too.”

The confession brought on a new wave of tears. Sylus acts quickly, rolling you on your back and placing kisses all over your face before trailing down your neck. Whimpers turn to moans as he pinches your nipple and suckles the soft skin under your jaw. Your emotions settle and your mind clears, which means you know exactly what you want. 

“Sylus?”

He hums against your skin, waiting for your next question. You run your hands down his back and slide one between your bodies. When your fingers dip beneath his waistband he stops moving completely, his attention solely on your hand. You wait and he doesn’t stop you. He sinks his face into the crook of your neck as you continue. As your fingers travel lower, you feel more confident. Your other hand threads through his hair and you kiss his temple, enjoying his rather immediate responses. 

“Sensitive?” 

He doesn’t reply, well, not with words. He growls, it’s subtle, but the vibrations are heavenly against your skin. Your hand wraps around the base of his cock and you sigh, he’s fucking perfect. He shifts and you easily stroke him, your eyes widening at the slight change in width. His cock is long, god you want – oh god…

“Find something you like?” 

Damn right you did. You’d daydreamed about his lip rings against your clit, his nipple rings rubbing against your chest, but a fucking ladder? Your fingertips trace 6 distinct metal balls lined up, the rods just beneath his skin. He lifts his head and groans as you run your fingers over the piercings over and over. Your hand continues, but another bit of metal catches on your fingers and you grab a fistful of Sylus’s hair as you curse.

“Fuck me…”

“I’m trying to…” 

His hips jerk as you close your palm around his tip, two small rings loop through the ridge along its base. As you rub faster he starts to roll his hips, chasing the warmth of your hand. When you remove your hand from his pants entirely you can feel his entire body shake.

“Take them off.”

He stands beside the bed and holds his hand out, waiting for you to take it. He drags you over and places your hands on his hips. Taking the hint, you push his pants down and let them drop. You maintain eye contact as you pull his boxers down, you can tell the moment his cock is free because his breathing stutters. You don’t look down, you just let your hands explore.

Your palms lay flat on his stomach, memorizing every inch of his skin as you continue to lower them to his hips. He leans his head back and closes his eyes and you watch his face react to every tiny movement. Your hands return to his cock and you feel the weight of it, the length, how the piercings create a mouthwatering contrast against his hot skin. 

His abs tense as you lean forward and lick his tip. He doesn’t let you continue and you don’t argue when he lays you back. His cock rests against your stomach, his tip leaking furiously adding to the mess you previously made.

“Do I need –”

“No… I’m on the pill.”

“I can never finish a sentence around you huh?” He teases. 

You hook your arms around his neck and shut him up with a kiss. With a few tentative rolls of his hips, his cock nudges your clit. When you feel his piercing, you break away.

“Fuck me please… fuck… please…”

“I love hearing your voice…”

He finally sinks into you, the initial stretch coaxing another moan out of you. 

“That’s it… just like that.” 

His knee pushes your leg out and his hips meet yours. You can feel every single piercing, they drag along your slick walls making you whimper uncontrollably. 

“Ahhh you’re such a good girl for me…”

Your pussy clenches around him and you slam your head forward against his shoulder. Really? This is how you discover you have a praise kink? Right now? Fantastic. Sylus gasps, oh he’s not going to let you get away now.

“Oh she liked that, yeah? The way she’s squeezing me, I think she loves it. Does my good girl like it when I praise her?”

Again, your pussy spasms and you shout, you’ve never been so close to an orgasm so fast before. You were already obsessed with how good he felt, but now he’s talking to you like this? 

“Are you going to come for me already? Just from me calling you a…”

“Sylus!”

“Good fucking girl…”

You scream, you pump your hips and he matches your pace working you through your second explosive orgasm of the night. He kisses you, inhaling your whimpers like they’re oxygen. He rolls you both onto your side, holding your thigh up over his hip. He slows down, rolling his hips so you feel the drag of every piercing. Each time he bottoms out, he thrusts just enough to put pressure on your g-spot.

“I need one more from you, can you do that for me sweetie?” 

You nod, or at least you think you nod. You’re not entirely sure with how the room is spinning.

“Mhmm… that’s my girl…”

He withdraws almost completely to slam back inside making the bed rock and lamp on the side table shake. His languid rhythm returns and you can already feel another climax fast approaching. 

“Tell me… you’re mine.”

With his forehead pressed against yours, all you can do is stare into his eyes. His voice shakes and his movements falter. Your arms tighten around his shoulders. You never imagined he’d be begging to hear the very words you’ve been dying to say.

“I’m yours.” 

His hips snap forward and he grits his teeth, like he’s holding back. His eyes close and his arms tremble. You press a soft kiss on his cheek and drop your voice to a whisper.

“I’m yours.”

He gasps as he lets go. His release is just as explosive as your own. As he fucks his cum deeper inside of you he drops his head to your shoulder and repeats “you’re mine” like a prayer. Hearing his desperation you dig your heel into his lower back and let your sluttiest moan rip free as your climax hits. 

You’re not sure how long you lie there holding each other. Or when he slides out of you, careful to keep your legs tangled together. But when you open your eyes, the sun is on the horizon and your bodies are covered in a soft blanket. His head is buried in the crook of your neck, your arms around his shoulders. You stare at the wedding ring on your finger and smile as you slowly drift off to sleep.

The sun is fully risen when you open your eyes again. You roll over and realize you’re in bed alone. Sitting up, you notice you’re wearing one of Sylus’s button ups. After a closer inspection, you realize you’ve been cleaned up and the bedding changed. The only thing you can think about is finding Sylus, you have a million questions and you don’t want to lose your nerve. However, standing proves to be a tad difficult. Your legs shake as if you just ran a marathon and your pussy throbs, not in the fun way.

You limp to the door and look down the hallway, not a soul in sight, not even Ollie. You walk through the house, finally hearing soft music coming from the kitchen. As you round the corner, you see Sylus standing over the stove. Still shirtless and wearing only his boxers. It’s an oddly domestic sight. He hums along with the music, bobbing his head as he cooks. You lean against the doorway and clear your throat. He looks over his shoulder and grins.

“I was going to bring you breakfast.”

You walk up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist, kissing his back before resting your cheek against him. He covers your hands with his.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“I’m perfect.” 

He urges you to sit at the island and brings you a cup of coffee. When he serves you a plate with eggs, bacon and french toast you squeal with excitement. He laughs as he refills his cup and sits down next to you. A comfortable silence settles as you eat and sip your coffee. Sylus keeps looking at you out of the corner of his eye and when he smiles you break.

“Okay, what? What is it?”

“Nothing, I’m just admiring my artwork.” 

You hold up your spoon and try to see what he’s referring to. Even upside down and blurred to hell, you can see the dark marks along your neck and chest. You turn to face him and hold the spoon up for him.

“My artwork is pretty impressive too, don’t you think?”

He squints and then drops his gaze to his plate. You reach out and trace one of the marks under his jaw, following a path up to his ear. Watching his ear turn a soft shade of red and goosebumps rise makes you giggle in delight. He snatches your hand and holds your fingers up to his mouth, pressing tiny kisses to each fingertip. 

“It’s a shame. My good girl only appears at night, turns naughty when the sun comes up.”

“Sylus…”

“Mhmm…” He kisses your palm and you shiver.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

He lowers your hand and shifts to face you.

“What do you want this to be?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. I want you, that’s all I know. So, if you’d like to see where this goes… I am very, very interested.”

You turn away sheepishly and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear in a pathetic attempt to be nonchalant. 

“I am… very, very interested, too.”

He moves to sit on the edge of his stool, his hands on your hips. He leans forward, his lips so close you can feel his warm breath.

“Then it looks like I’m dating my wife.”

You’re about to laugh, but he cuts you off with a kiss. You sigh as he stands, picking you up and sitting you on the island between your plates. He slots himself between your legs, he lifts the bottom of his shirt you’re wearing up over your hips. You push against his chest and he stops.

“That also means we need to work on how we communicate.” 

He raises a brow and backs up, his hands resting on the counter next to your thighs. 

“I’m sorry for how I reacted last night. It wasn’t fair of me to get angry. I mean, you saved my fucking life. I panicked, but I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

He reaches up to take your hand, holding it against his chest.

“I shouldn’t have expected you to just… accept what I did. Like you said, you save lives. I… took one, right in front of you. I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me for that.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, his look of shock makes you smile. He’s not used to tender acts of affection, you make a mental note to shower him with them from now on.

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to hate you.”

You run your hands down his arms, admiring the way his muscles flex as you touch him.

“I just wish… I just don’t want to be afraid, I want to know I can protect myself. I can’t expect you to always be there. I’m so tired of being scared.”

“We can fix that.”

“How?”

“I can train you. Help you learn to protect yourself.”

Resting your forehead against his, he wraps his arms around you. You relax in his embrace. Looking down at the prominent outline in his boxers you take a deep breath and wrap your legs around him. He starts kissing your cheek, your jaw, your neck and you gently scratch his back.

“You know… a few years ago, I had a patient come in with a new piercing. He was bragging about it. Basically gave me a free class - Dick Piercings 101. His cocky attitude vanished when we needed to put a catheter in, but… I still remember the name of the piercing he had.” 

He steps back. You watch him slowly push his boxers down, letting them drop to the floor. Your eyes drop, yep, still pretty in the daylight. Swallowing hard, you shiver as he places his hands on your knees, spreading them wider and wider until you're just as exposed as he is. Gathering your courage, you continue.

“King’s Crown.”

He steps closer, your hand dropping to rub over the piercings along the ridge at the base of his tip. His cock stiffens as you let your thumb rest over his slit, rubbing small circles.

“What is it about using royalty terms and names for cock piercings? King’s Crown… Prince Albert… Trying to convince yourself of something?”

He nips at your shoulder and you yelp. He grabs the back of your neck and keeps your head bent forward, fully focused on his cock. Like you were able to focus on anything else.

“I don’t think I need to convince anyone of anything. Wouldn’t you agree?”

He moves your hand away and pulls you to the edge of the counter, his tip nudges your aching clit and you gasp. You can feel the corners of his mouth tip up into a smile as he kisses your neck. He takes hold of his cock and you shimmy your hips, fuck you’re needy…

“Tell me, do you enjoy teasing me?”

He holds your hips still, his mouth dipping down to the top button of your shirt. He uses his teeth to tug it open. You strain against his hands, one on your hip and one on the back of your neck - you need movement. Anything to alleviate the pressure building. 

“I do… just a little.”

He tugs another button free and licks a stripe up the center of your chest.

“So just a little bit of a brat then, hmm?”

You scoff and try to pull away, but he holds you steady.

“Watch…”

And you do. You watch him shift his hips forward, his cock sinking into you at an agonizing pace. He releases your hip to spread you wider, the erotic sight leaves you breathless. 

“Watch how she… sucks me right in. So perfect.”

He bottoms out and you groan, with how he’s forcing you to look down you can see the shape of him. You lower your hand, placing it over your stomach. As soon as you press down, both of you groan. Sylus lets go of your neck and you nearly fall back onto the counter. He rips open your shirt, buttons scattering across the kitchen floor. His hands return to your hips and as he thrusts, he pulls you closer. 

“Fuck Sylus… faster…”

He chuckles, but obliges. The lewd sounds of skin against skin echoes through the kitchen and you close your eyes to keep them from crossing. Your back arches off of the cool granite and your hands search for something to hold onto. 

Crash

Your hand swipes a plate off the counter, sending it crashing to the floor with a shatter. Sylus doesn’t stop, in fact, the sudden sound makes him thrust deeper - which you didn’t know was humanly possible.

“Yes! Yes, please don’t stop ahhh…”

Your begging pulls a growl from him, it’s becoming your favorite sound he makes. Feral, unashamed, dominating. You whine as your pussy clenches, spasming wildly. 

“That’s right angel, let me hear you. I love hearing your voice.”

He leans forward, one of his hands traveling up your body until he reaches your neck. His fingers wrap around your throat gently, the possessive action sparks a fire that quickly spirals out of control. An unfamiliar pressure builds and you hold onto his forearm, your nails digging into his skin.

“You’re so deep Sy… ahh fuck…!”

Without warning you feel that pressure release as your orgasm crashes over you. You’re so delirious you don’t register the splatter of something wet on the floor. Sylus curses under his breath and his movements become sloppy. Your breathing is erratic, staggered by whimpers. 

“Angel.. I need to - please…”

Your neck is released and your legs are suddenly lifted, your thighs press down against your chest. When you force your eyes open, you watch Sylus throw his head back, his brows furrowed, eyes closed. Equal parts bliss and agony. You squeeze around his length and he groans, low and deep as he spills into you. He drops his hands from the back of your thighs to the counter and hangs his head, breathing heavily. You awkwardly sit up, your lower half is coated in your shared release and… significantly more sore than when you woke up. When your arms coil around his neck he unsheathes himself and gathers you in his arms, holding you impossibly close. He kisses the shell of your ear, his hot breath making you shiver.

“You made such a mess sweetie…”

You try to look down, but he just picks you up and carries you out of the kitchen.

“I’ll clean that up later, you’re my priority right now.” 

As he turns the corner you see the floor is wet and the remnants of the shattered plate. You’re a fucking doctor, the fact it took a you the entire distance from the kitchen to Sylus’s bedroom to figure out you squirted is just embarrassing. 

“Oh my god…”

Sylus chuckles and carries you right into his bathroom and into the shower. He doesn’t put you down, just tightens his hold as he turns on the water and lets the warm water flow over your back. You slump forward, letting your arms hang limp against his back, your head on his shoulder. He sways, the steam fogging the glass around you.

“You’re getting a lot of my firsts, I hope you know that.”

He carefully lowers you, leaning you back against the wall to let you gain your footing. When he steps back to get soap you finally take a moment to just stare at his naked form. Toned, dark lines of ink with swirls of vibrant scarlet covering his arms, his back, his chest, the dusting of hair along his happy trail, and oh - great, he even has a perky ass. Sylus clears his throat and you look up to see him watching you over his shoulder. 

“Like what you see?”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. He begins lathering the fragrant soap over your arms, pulling them away from your chest. His eyes drink you in and drift as his hands roam. 

“I like what I see too… you’re… exquisite.”

He continues to clean you gently, but his lips find yours again. There’s no rush with how he kisses you, or touches you for that matter. Like he’s savoring every moment and every point of contact is sacred. You still have a million questions, but none of them seem important right now. You’ve never felt so… happy. 

“When do you go back to work?” He mumbles against your lips.

“New Years Eve and New Years Day… after that, I’m off for another week.”

He smiles into the kiss, his hands massaging your hips. 

“Good… I hope you don’t have any plans.” 🏍️۶ৎ🩺

Translations: "Malen'kiy chelovek, ukhodi." -> "Little man, go away." "Malen'kiy chelovek umret." -> "Little man will die." “Bol'shoy chelovek, zatknis' nakhuy.” -> "Big man, shut the fuck up." "Malen'kiy chelovek ne sootvetstvuyet legende." -> "The little man does not live up to the legend."

Part One Part Two

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @spacegroteske @namjoonseuphoria @celestialforce @rafshottestgf @oxamarok @withering-dream @zaynessbeloved @animecrazy76 @yournextdoorhousewitch @addiglessthanthree @4ttack-ur-heart @moonberry69 @pandoras-rabbit @cookiesaresquishy @hamnaalien @needlewandandthimble @brekkers-whore @goddexxluv @satansdaughter123 @poisonf0rest @darkalleycat1987 @morrigan87 @never-justforever @ericherries @lev-berryz @aishasylus @altair718 @yuhuahuaaa @lazypostfandomer @chloepluto1306 @dummiebunny @3fingersofscotch @freddy-2002-blog @plsdonttakemyname @sylus-hunter

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[3fingersofscotch]

Its so good. I need thr next chapter, STAT.

Vow - Part 2

Synopsis: You're marrying the leader of Onychinus, of course your life is going to change. Did you expect for this man to occupy your every thought? No, but you're not complaining. All it takes is one brutal reminder of what he's capable of to potentially ruin what you've been building. But only if you let it.

AN: So we might have 4 parts for this one guys... The plot is heavy and I'm in too deep. I hope you find it interesting! Cover images from Pinterest. 

Content Warnings: I swear the smut is coming soon but omg the build up is so good… Explicit language & sexual themes, alcohol consumption, vehicle accidents, serious injuries, blood, violence & death, medical terms/procedures described, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 17.1k (oh boy it's a long one)

Part One

The frigid wind threatens to ruin Veronica’s hard work as a gust sweeps through your curls. You tighten your grip on the coat wrapped around your shoulders as Sylus guides you to his Escalade parked in front of the hotel. His hand on the small of your back, steadying you as you climb into the car. 

He closes the door and pauses to talk to Tanya, who had insisted on walking you both out. He holds her hand and you hear her muffled voice declare, yet again, that you and Sylus are “the most beautiful match.”  You can’t help but smile at the compliment, she’s not wrong. 

Sylus in his sleek black suit with a crisp white dress shirt and you in an elegant gown, your hair curled and pinned to cascade over your shoulders in soft waves. You looked like a couple. There’s a natural physical chemistry and it’ll certainly help sell the marriage. 

Sylus climbs in the car and pauses. You look over to see him staring at you. 

“You okay?” He nods, but his usual smile is missing.

“I want to make sure you still want to go through with this.”

You surprise yourself as you reach for his hand. His thumb mindlessly strokes your fingers once again. 

“You’re not forcing me into anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

His smile slowly reappears and he kisses your hand. He releases you just long enough to turn on the car before offering his hand again. You’re about to marry this man and you’re sitting here wondering if you’re ready for the hand-holding stage? 

You take his hand and he laces his fingers with yours. 

“We have a wedding to get to.”

The drive to the courthouse is a short one, so Sylus wastes no time reviewing what you told your parents about him. You also tell him about their work overseas, making sure he knows enough about them to signify a lengthy dating relationship. 

“I’ll follow your lead, sweetie.”

You stare straight ahead at the courthouse looming in the distance. You watch people walking down the busy city streets, blissfully unaware of the life-changing event you’re about to go through. Before you know it, Sylus is exchanging pleasantries with the parking attendant and finding a space. He turns off the car and leans back.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He helps you out of the car and places your hand over his arm, keeping you close. The warm air of the courthouse is a welcome reprieve. The vaulted ceilings and vintage paintings age the building significantly, making the monitors and holographic displays look intensely out of place. 

“Oh my goodness, there she is!”

You hear your mothers voice before you see her. Your grip on Sylus’s arms tightens and he chuckles, the sound oddly comforting.

“Look at you! Oh!”

Your mother rushes to you with her arms spread wide. You look over her shoulder to see your father standing next to Zayne and Yvonne. Who stares at you, her smile faltering as she looks at the man next to you. She raises a brow and her sweet smile turns into a sly grin. You’re going to get an earful later, you just know it. 

Your mother throws her arms around you.

“You look stunning!”

“I agree.”

Sylus winks at you as your mother turns to give him a once over. She tucks her arm around your waist and pulls you close while she examines your husband-to-be. 

“So you’re Sylus? Hmm…”

“Mom…”

Sylus laughs, his features soft, his voice light.

“I am. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Your mother squints at him, her expression hardening. She leans towards you, but keeps her eyes on Sylus.

“Too many piercings. And his hair, it’s… too long.”

His usual shaggy style was cleaned up for the occasion, but compared to Zayne and your father, his hair was certainly untraditional. Your mother has always had high standards for any man you spend any time with. Even Greyson, who is in a happy relationship with another woman. She always expected him to be well-dressed and clean-shaven.

“But…”

Just as you’re about to give your mother an earful, she surprises you.

“You’re very polite. And… if you make my baby girl happy… I’ll give you a chance.”

He extends his hand and she takes it, allowing him to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

“This is the man who owns a winery? He looks like a punk!”

“Dad!”

Your father walks right up to Sylus and crosses his arms. Zayne stands behind him with his hands in his pockets, he’s failing miserably at hiding a smirk.

“And Zayne tells me you live in the N109 Zone? You intend to have my daughter live there?”

If looks could kill, Zayne would be a bloody lump on the floor with how you’re staring.

“My vineyard is located in the Zone. I value my privacy. The perceived danger keeps me safe.”

You lean closer to Sylus.

“Yeah, you value privacy too, right, Zayne?”

You make sure he sees your eyes trail down his arms. His jaw tenses and he pushes his shoulders back. He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off.

“You know, with being a doctor, client confidentiality and all that. I mean we all can understand that, right?”

Zayne nods and your father shakes his head.

“That place is too dangerous, what if you get hurt?!”

Sylus covers your hand with his.

“Maintaining my privacy is not my only reason for operating there. I am well-respected in the Zone. I offer jobs to those seeking a fresh start. I also invest in other local businesses, enabling more legal jobs, which means less crime. Neighborhoods are being rebuilt and communities are starting to thrive. So your daughter will be safe, I will make sure of it.”

You’re impressed with Sylus’s, very political, answer. It seems the respect he’s earned in the Zone does not come from violence alone. It seems your father is also impressed, he sighs before extending a hand to Sylus. He shakes Sylus’s hand and gives it a squeeze. 

“As long as she’s safe, you and I won’t have a problem.”

Sylus nods, your father releases him and motions for your mother. 

“We’ll head inside, I want to talk to the judge about these holographic atrocities.”

Sylus chuckles as you watch your parents head for the courtroom. Yvonne rushes over, completely oblivious to the rising tension between your brother and betrothed. 

“Hi! I’m Yvonne, best friend, fellow resident, and I guess now former roommate! Speaking of, did you send those movers or are we getting robbed right now?”

“Wait, what?!”

Sylus pats your hand and grins.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Yvonne. And yes, I sent them. Thought it’d be best to send them today so you can relax undisturbed tomorrow. I apologize for not reaching out directly.”

“Oh! That’s… actually really sweet of you! Greyson and I rarely do big events on the weekends, so we’ll be out cold tomorrow!”

She lunges forward and pulls you into one of her warm bear hugs. 

“You look amazing. I’m so happy for you hun!”

She tilts her head to whisper in your ear.

“And we are going to talk about where you met this delicious man later, okay?”

You sigh and she breaks the hug. She squeezes your shoulders before turning to Sylus.

“As the best friend, I am obligated to warn you that if you hurt her I will fuck you up.”

“Evie!”

She turns quickly, her chestnut curls swoosh through the air behind her and bounce with every step as she walks away. You love Yvonne, but she is the least scary person you know. 

“I wouldn’t take her threat lightly. A doctor would know how to make your death instantaneous or agonizingly slow.”

Your eyes flick up to see Zayne staring pointedly at Sylus. He takes a step closer and lifts one of his hands, tapping the side of his own neck.

“Just one strike to your spinal cord between C1 and C2 and you’ll die rather quickly. But a cut through the carotid artery, well, you’ll drown in your own blood.”

Your entire body tenses, you can’t even clear your throat or take a deep breath. Zayne has never been a violent man, he’s spent his life terrified of his own evol and how he might accidentally hurt someone. And now…

“Are you threatening me, Zayne?”

“Yes.” 

He doesn’t even hesitate to answer. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say. You look between Sylus and Zayne, trying to come up with the right words.

“That’s why I like you.”

You blink, Sylus appreciates Zayne’s threat? What the fuck is going on? Before you can ask, you feel Zayne’s lips on your cheek. 

“You’re sure about this?”

You look up at him, his eyes searching yours.

“I am.”

He nods and gives Sylus one last look before turning to enter the courtroom. 

“Boss!”

You jump at the sudden noise behind you. When you look over your shoulder you see two men in dark suits, both wearing masks with what look like beaks, running towards you. They stop right behind Sylus and he turns to look at them directly.

“We got ‘em!” 

One of the men holds out two small boxes. Sylus takes them and points to their faces.

“Masks.”

“But…”

“Masks.”

Sylus repeats himself, with a firmness to his voice that even makes you straighten up. The men take off the masks and hook them on their belts. They’re attractive young men, sandy ginger hair, freckles, but their eyes… They look like they’ve seen too much in their short lives. One of them has a faint scar down his face and neck, the skin surrounding it discolored as if the cause of the original wound was something unnatural. 

“This is Luke and Kieran.”

“Oh, the twins! Right. Hi.”

Their faces light up and they both bow, rather dramatically.  

“Sylus says you’re like family to him so –”

“Boss said that?!”

The one with the scar nearly shouts, both men smiling from ear to ear. 

“Kieran, volume.” 

So Kieran is the one with the scar, making the other - the one with deep dimples - Luke. 

“We’ll be inside in a moment.”

They rush past, both snickering and swatting each other as they enter the courtroom.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you kept that a secret.”

“They know, I just… I don’t make a habit of saying it.”

He hands you one of the small boxes Luke and Kieran delivered. 

“Open it.”

You carefully open the box and see a ring with a thick silver band with a square cut black gem. Small diamonds line the sides framing the large gem. When you look up you see Sylus holding open the other box, a smaller ring sits inside, but the matching gem is anything but small. The ring has a delicate silver band with teardrop diamonds surrounding the matching black gem. You stare at the ring, then up at Sylus, then back at the ring.

“Exchanging rings is a common tradition, even at courthouse ceremonies.”

“Y-yes, but… Sylus this is… it’s…”

“Gorgeous? Dazzling? Incredible? Say anything other than ‘too much.’” 

You close your mouth and look down at the set of rings. 

“I love them. Thank you.”

His smile widens and your cheeks flush as he steps closer.

“We’ll have to kiss, are you okay with that?”

If your cheeks were flushed before, they’re absolutely burning now. Keeping your eyes focused on his chest you nod.

“Then let’s go.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and leads you to the courtroom. He pauses before pushing the door open, both of you taking a deep breath in tandem. What you’re doing for the sake of security would be considered insane by most, but to you, this feels… right. As the doors open, your plans fade to a distant memory, a new future awaits. 

The judge looks up from his paperwork, his wrinkles deepen as he smiles at you and Sylus walking up to him. Your mother and father stand to the side, Zayne and Yvonne beside them. Your mother’s eyes are misty while your father’s jaw is tense. Luke and Kieran stand with their hands behind their backs, chests forward, chins held high. You’re convinced they’d salute if your family weren’t present.

“Judge Harlow, thank you for accepting this appointment so swiftly. I appreciate you.”

Judge Harlow shakes Sylus’s hand before turning his attention to you.

“Anything for you, Mr Sylus. And this is your lovely bride?”

You bow your head and accept his extended hand. He gives it a gentle shake and gestures to the desk behind him. 

“A civil ceremony is rather quick, unless you both would like to exchange vows?”

Sylus looks over at you, he squeezes your hand when he notices your wide eyes.

“We will keep it simple today. Making it official is what matters.”

The judge nods, circling his desk to lay out the paperwork and two pens. He looks at Sylus.

“Do you wish to marry this woman of your own accord?” 

Sylus turns to face you. His thumbs brush over your fingers in calming circles. 

“I do.”

The judge turns to you.

“And do you wish to marry this man of your own accord?”

You stare into Sylus’s eyes and see the unmistakable flicker of worry. Your lips curl into a gentle smile. Your thumbs respond in kind, the tension in his hands vanishing in an instant. 

“I do.”

“Do you have rings you’d like to exchange?”

You both present the boxes Luke and Kieran gave you. Sylus takes your hand and slides the ring on your finger, his eyes never leaving yours. You hold his hand and slowly slide his ring on, watching his face shift from confident to… you’re unsure what to make of his expression now. Something akin to serenity or contentment. 

“By virtue of the authority vested in me as Chief Justice, I now pronounce you married under the Laws of Linkon. I suppose, for the sake of being a tad more traditional, you may now kiss the bride.”

Sylus lifts a hand to caress your cheek, his warm touch makes your heart pound. You’re sure everyone in the room can hear it. As he leans closer, your hands rest on his waist, gripping the fabric of his suit jacket.

“Close your eyes, angel.” He whispers.

You shiver and obey, as his lips touch yours every muscle in your body relaxes. His other hand finds your waist to pull you in. The chill of his lip rings contrast deliciously with the heat of his lips. He hesitates for a moment, letting his lip drag against yours, but you lean forward to seal your lips over his. A quiet sigh escapes him and he smiles into the kiss. Your tongue flicks his lip and he squeezes your hip, he leans back to break the connection. 

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you?” He breathes. 

“All you need to do now is sign on the dotted line.” 

You turn back to the judge and watch as Sylus picks up a pen and hands it to you. He leans over to sign the document on the desk, stepping aside to give you space to do the same. As you stare down at the document you notice your hand trembling. What is this man doing to you? You sign the paper and jump as the judge claps.

“Congratulations, you’re officially married.”

Your mother rushes up to you and wraps her arms around you and Sylus. Once she’s done nearly suffocating you, your father offers his hand to Sylus, giving him a curt nod. Zayne stays a few steps back, allowing his parents to have their moment with you. Yvonne kisses your cheek before skipping over to Luke and Kieran to introduce herself. 

“You’re hosting the reception in a club?!” Your father sneers.

“I own the club, it’s been transformed for the occasion. No expense spared.”

“You own a club?!” Once again, your father looks like he’s about to launch into a lecture.

“The most popular club in the Zone and Linkon. We’re known for our top of the line security.”

Your father deflates, temporarily appeased. Everyone gathers to walk out of the courthouse to the parking garage. You cling to Sylus, your fingers unconsciously tapping against his bicep. He slows down to let the rest file in front, stopping for a moment to help you put on your coat.

“How are you feeling?”

His hands linger on your shoulders and you’re hesitant to turn around. The thoughts spiraling are becoming gradually less appropriate and you have a shit poker face. 

“I’m… okay, I think. Just a lot to take in.”

Sylus turns you around with a gentle touch, his arm looping around your shoulder to hug you close to his side. His warmth seeps through your coat.

“When we get back to the hotel I’ll call up the masseuse, help you relax before the reception.”  

He opens the door to the courthouse and ushers you outside, still holding you close. 

“You don’t have to do that…”

“I do. Or if it’ll make you feel better, I could do the massage myself?”

You laugh. You fucking laugh. Because what else are you supposed to do? You have no idea what to say in response. Frankly, the only responses that come to mind are straight up filthy.

“Then tell me what you need.”

His request catches you off guard, his desire to help you relax eases the tension. You offer him a small smile. 

“Sylus…”

“Sylus!” 

The familiar voice sends chills down your spine. You nearly collapse, if it weren’t for Sylus holding onto you you’re sure you’d be in the fetal position. 

“Antov Volkova. What can I do for you?” Sylus purrs.  

Volkova steps forward, right past your parents and Zayne. You’re thankful Yvonne seems to have left already, but the fact your family appeared to be conversing with this man makes your stomach turn. Volkova is as tall as Sylus, dark brown hair and even darker eyes. He’s unnaturally tan, if he weren’t built like a bull you’d joke about his tanning salon fees. His dark gray suit hugs him tightly, his black dress shirt unbuttoned scandalously low. His signature tiger tattoo is hidden in the low light of the parking garage, but you can see claws disappearing beneath the fabric. He’s an attractive man, square jaw, plump lips, high cheekbones, a well-maintained beard. Perhaps that is why you trusted him. He looks like a proper business man who maybe just likes to workout. If only you’d known his true intentions. 

“I was just stopping by to congratulate the happy couple.” His thick Russian accent muddies the words together, as if he’s speaking in cursive. 

“Well, thank you. We appreciate that.” Sylus is far too calm, it’s almost unsettling.

“I was hoping you had a moment to speak about our latest business deal. It’s rather urgent.”

Right… “business deal” aka you. Sylus nods and gestures for Volkova to follow. You expect him to let you go and tell you to wait with your family, but he keeps his hand on your waist, bringing you along. Volkova steps in line with Sylus.

“A word in private if you don’t mind.”

“I do. Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of my wife.” Fuck, that’s hot. 

Volkova gives him a sideways glare, but doesn’t argue. He crosses his arms and turns his glare to you, you tremble. Sylus notices.

“You think just because you married Sylus you don’t have to pay me back? Is that it?”

“She doesn’t.”

Volkova tenses, refocusing on Sylus. 

“I know you two are not madly in love, too impatient to wait for a proper wedding. Since when do you interfere with business deals that do not concern you?”

“I could ask you the same question, Antov.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You should train your mutts to stay quiet when they’re staking out one of my deals. Did you wonder why they didn’t show up with the intel?”

You can tell Volkova is struggling to maintain his calm demeanor. He glances past you, smiling.

“So you marry a woman who owes me money? And you think that will stop what’s coming?”

“I know it will. She owes you a pretty penny. Without the cash flow you won’t be securing that deal with Lion Pharmaceuticals. Well, you wouldn’t be anyways, I already bought the company and instructed them to drop you as their advisor. Word travels fast, I’m sure other businesses in the Zone will hear and drop you as well. The one thing I won’t touch, because I’m just such a nice guy, is your off-shore accounts. You leave her alone and they stay in your name.”

Volkova steps up to Sylus, nearly chest to chest. You squeeze his hand and he rubs his thumb over yours, sending you a subtle message that he’s not worried. 

“You really want to make this war a messy one, don’t you? For her?” 

Volkova stuffs his hands in his pockets, but not before you notice the strands of white crackling energy floating around them. The air around you hums with static making your skin tingle and hair stand on end. 

“A war would require a true adversary, which you are not.”

Volkova turns suddenly and stalks away, a blacked out SUV pulls up and flashes their lights. Sylus slowly follows, keeping his voice steady. 

“I take it we have an understanding?”

Volkova opens the back door and stops, his hand nearly crushing the metal. He looks over his shoulder with a smirk.

“Of course, Mr Sylus. Completely.”

He climbs in the car and it takes off. You look up at Sylus, who stares at the car speeding away.

“He’s seen my family. Spoken to them. What if he –”

“They’re under my protection.” He interrupts. 

“I… I thought…”

“They’re technically my family now, right? No one’s going to hurt them, you have my word.”

He rubs your shoulders and pulls you into a hug. You close your eyes and breathe him in, his warm amber scent soothing you instantly. 

“Thank you.”

He hums and turns you both around to approach your family once more.

“Everything alright?” Zayne asks, your parents cautiously stepping out from the safety of their car to hear.

“Just a simple misunderstanding, but it couldn’t wait. I apologize.”

You parents exchange a doubtful glance, but don’t press. Zayne, however, crosses his arms in defiance. He leans against his car and keeps his eyes set on you.

“The reception is in a few hours, does anyone need directions?” Sylus’s voice doesn’t waver, his confidence rubs off on your parents and their concern fades. 

“Yes, if you could plug it into the GPS for me?”

“Of course.”

Sylus leans over and gives you a kiss to the temple, leaving you frozen in place. He walks over to your parents car and helps them while you try to remember how to breathe. Zayne approaches and leans down to whisper in your ear.

“What the fuck was Volkova doing here?”

You bristle at his harsh tone, but force a neutral expression in case your parents looked over.

“Threatening us, but Sylus handled it. I’m fine, you’re fine, mom and dad are fine.”

He straightens and rubs the back of his neck. You take advantage of the opportunity and wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. He grunts and sighs, patting your arm in surrender.

“Are you okay? Really?”

“I’m okay. Really.” 

He pulls you into a proper hug before letting you go and turning to his car. 

“I’ll see you tonight.”

You watch him back out and drive away, waving as he passes. Zayne will be okay, his evol is powerful, he’s extremely calculated making him a bit paranoid - which is good when dealing with someone like Volkova. Your parents will be leaving for their third international university tour in a few days, so they’ll be fine. You… you have Sylus. Everything will be… fine…

Veronica grabbed you immediately upon arriving back at the hotel, she helped you remove your wedding dress and slip into a fluffy bathrobe. She made quick work of curling your hair into hot rollers and darkening your makeup to better match your dress. Sylus sat a few feet away, sipping a cocktail. 

“So you’re just going to watch?”

He stands and leans against the vanity table in front of you. Damn him for being so tall, you look up at him and that smile… He offers you his glass and you eagerly take it, downing the rest of his drink. 

“I didn’t take you for a cosmo guy.”

“Only on special occasions.”

“Oh, today’s special?”

“Well, I’m only getting married once.” 

You stare, lips slightly parted, a question on the tip of your tongue. He catches your look of disbelief and returns to the bar cart to make another drink. You watch him through the mirror.

“To tell you the truth, I never planned on getting married.”

You turn around in your seat making Veronica gasp, she grabs your chin and leans over to check her work.

“And yet you suggested this plan? When you never wanted to be married in the first place?”

“I have nothing against the concept of marriage, I just never considered myself…” He hesitates.

“You never considered yourself what? Husband material?” He chuckles, but doesn’t look up.

“What about you? You said it yourself ‘career comes first’ and yet you don’t seem to be hating the role so far.”

“Ahh… the avoidant type, noted.”

“I’m not avoiding… simply, finding common ground. We both had our reasons.”

You look away from him now, letting him slip from the room to change into a matching suit. Oh hell, he got a matching suit? You just picked the dress this morning. Veronica swipes a brush over your nose, bringing your focus back to her.

“You look a little overwhelmed.”

Nodding, she holds your chin and tips your head back to apply a light dusting of blush to your cheeks. She smiles and grabs a lipstick.

“You’re a doctor, right?” You nod again. “Just think of today like a big surgery. You’ve made it through the tough part, but now’s the closing. Complications can still happen at this stage, but there’s less to worry about now.”

“Do you have experience or family in the field? That sounded very… official.”

“I’ve watched every season of Grey’s Anatomy… Twice.”

She finishes touching up your makeup and leads you back into the bedroom to get dressed. The gown you picked this morning had been tailored in just a few short hours to sit perfectly over the swell of your hips. The hem hovers just over the floor so you won’t trip, but seamlessly hides the boot on your foot. Veronica tightens the laces of the corset which makes the skirt cascade over your hips in soft waves. She adjusts the sleeves to sit off your shoulders before sliding your hands into the long black lace gloves. You hold her hand as you slide your uninjured foot into a strappy sandal with a short wedge. 

“Has anyone told you red is your color?”

“No… I’ve always worn blue actually. But…”

“You’re starting to warm up to it?” Sylus opens the door the rest of the way and steps in.

You turn to face him as Veronica removes the hot rollers, winding them around to let the curls fall and bounce. For fucks sake, this man looks good in everything. A matching dark red velvet suit with a black dress shirt, one again unbuttoned to show off his toned chest. Your eyes linger on the sliver of skin and you mentally reprimand yourself for your lack of self-control. However, when you look up, you notice Sylus is completely captivated by the thigh-high slit in your skirt. Your toned leg extended for Veronica to fasten the strap around your ankle. You flex your quad and Sylus’s eyes drop to the floor.

“Distracted?”

“A bit. Is that a problem, angel?”

You don’t hide your smile and he doesn’t hide his. 

“You seem to like that nickname. Seems unfair since I don’t have one for you.”

“What would you like to call me then?”

“Well, Ryūō…” He narrows his eyes. “I could call you Dragon? Or… oh, how about Lil S?”

His laughter fills the room, making you disturbingly proud of yourself. 

“Well…”

“If you’re about to say some cringy shit like ‘there’s nothing lil about me’ we will have a problem.”

He laughs louder as he steps closer to you, he extends his hand and Veronica passes your hand to his. You glare at her and she snickers. 

“It might be cringy, but it’s true.” 

He kisses your knuckle, right above your ring. Your pussy throbs just thinking about his not-so-lil… everything. Get a hold of yourself. Veronica fluffs your hair one last time and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“Have fun tonight you two.”

The ride to the club was comfortable, Sylus told you more about his club and you maintained enough self-control not to stare at his god-like side-profile. If he wasn’t so pretty, this wouldn’t be such a problem.

“Wait! Ollie!”

Sylus almost swerves when you shout, but regains control effortlessly. He glances over at you with a brow raised.

“Sorry… my cat. Oliver, or Ollie. We didn’t talk about him… and… uhm… Can he…” “That explains Luke and Kieran’s text. Your cat was delivered to the base with the rest of your belongings. The twins have been trying to coax him out of his carrier for the past few hours.”

You turn to look out the window, the sudden urge to cry takes you by surprise. Knowing Ollie can stay with you brings you so much comfort. Just the split second of doubt made you reconsider the whole marriage. You were not giving up the troublesome kitten you found in a dumpster behind a Wendy’s after your first shift at Akso. Absolutely not.”

“Hey…”

Sylus reaches for your hand and you shake your head, looking at the roof of the car to keep tears from falling.

“Sorry, I just… he’s really important to me. I know that probably sounds dumb, I know he’s a cat. He’s just, like, my baby… in a way… god, ignore me.”

Sylus holds onto your hand, making no move to let go.

“It doesn’t sound dumb. Is he friendly?”

“Very. He follows the rule of ‘if I fit, I sit’ religiously. I’ve found him sitting in a Poptart box before. Well, when he was a kitten, now he absolutely could not fit in a Poptart box…”

“He’s a big cat?”

“Maine Coon. His paws are the size of a pear.”

Sylus chuckles, continuing to rub your hand slowly. He turns into the parking lot of his club, which is already relatively packed. He helps you out of the car and guides you to a side entrance. A security guard greets you both with a smile before ushering you inside.

“We’ll greet a few people, have a few drinks, have cake, do our first dance… Nothing wild. Enjoy yourself, you don’t have to stay glued to my side all night unless you want to.”

“Wait… first dance?”

“Another traditional reception event, no?”

“I mean… yes…”

“If you’d rather we didn’t I can –”

“No!” You interject. “I was just surprised. What song did you pick? Aren’t they usually, like, symbolic or something?”

“I picked a classic, simple, elegant. Nothing dramatic.”

“Care to share?” You tilt your head and he just smiles. The security guard opens the door and you’re hit with a wave of fragrant air. You gasp at the sight before you.

“Too much?” Sylus circles in front of you, still holding your hand. 

The club looks nothing like it usually does from the pictures online. Bright neon lighting has been replaced with a warm orange glow, spot lights angled to reflect off of the gem-crested ceiling. Round tables with silk tablecloths circle the dance floor, each topped with a crystal vase with red and black roses. The bar was covered in tall candles and rose petals. Servers and security wear black suits, the bartender in a gorgeous red cocktail dress that shimmers in the candlelight. The DJ stand has been dismantled and replaced with a band, a singer in a black gown sways her hips as she sets the mood with her velvet voice. 

“It’s gorgeous…”

You hold onto Sylus as he leads you further into the club. Guests mingle, sip champagne, some couples dance to the smooth jazz renditions of modern pop songs. Sylus approaches the bar and nods at the bartender who twirls and skips over.

“Boss and Mrs Boss! What can I get for ya?” 

Damn, that’ll take some getting used to. Sylus orders a gin fizz and looks at you. 

“I’ll have a Vodka cranberry.” 

She nods and gets to work. Sylus leans on the bar and watches you.

“What?” You huff.

“You look beautiful.” You blush.

“You said that already. At the hotel, remember?”

“Is there a rule about how many times I can say it?”

That fucking smirk again. Oh the butterflies…

“Sylus!” 

A young man and a tall woman weave through the crowd to reach the bar. As they get closer, you see the woman has a prominent baby bump, her hand rests on her stomach protectively while her other hand clings to her companion.

“Rafayel, didn’t you tell me you couldn’t make it? Something about a babysitter?”

The man, you assume to be this Rafayel, runs a hand through his dark purple waves. He has just as many piercings and tattoos as Sylus. With his sleeves pushed up to his elbows you can clearly see the intricate tattoos of ocean scenes. The woman next to him wears a silky blue dress, cutouts framing her own body art. 

“Talia surprised us. She took the girls for the weekend, which means…” He reaches out and takes a flute of champagne from a passing server. He raises the glass before tipping it back, downing the bubbly in one go. He winces and shivers, Sylus laughs.

“Take it easy Raf, don’t want to get drunk so early in the night. I’m sure Bakeneko would like to remain childfree, not taking care of your drunk ass.”

Rafayel sneers, but the woman laughs. You’re guessing Bakeneko is Sylus’s nickname for her. Does he have nicknames for all the women in his life…? 

“I don’t mind. Raf has had a hell of a week at the studio.”

You exchange pleasantries with her, recognizing her name almost instantly. She’d lived on your street growing up and is one of Zayne’s patients. She wouldn’t recognize you, she moved away before you returned from the hospital. Your white hair was definitely throwing her off. 

“I am surprised you got married, you always said it wasn’t your thing.”

“Rafayel!”

Sylus chuckles and steps closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“What? Are you disappointed I won’t be attending any more of Talia’s parties? You both still go to those, right?”

Rafayel turns bright red, he glares at Sylus as he downs another glass of champagne. He stammers for a moment.

“Fuck you…”

He drags his wife behind him as he turns to walk away, her laughter harmonizes with Sylus’ as they leave. Before you can ask any questions another woman approaches. Her wild curls - which she tried her hardest to pin back - frame her delicate features. The lavender dress makes her dark skin look downright divine. You can’t remember where you’ve seen her before…

“Suz!” Sylus cheers. She smiles and accepts his hug. 

“Sy, congratulations. Seriously, I’m really happy for you. For the both of you.”

She turns to you and extends her arms, she hesitates, pulling back.

“Is it okay if I hug you?”

You’re not sure if you know this woman, but you nod. She embraces you and tilts her head towards your ear. 

“I own Suzaku Repairs on the border of the Zone. I know we usually see each other in our helmets, but it’s nice to put a name to a face for once.”

“Oh my god! Hi!” You tighten your hug.

You’ve only heard her referred to as “The Mechanic” - when your bike needed a fast repair post-race she was there. Her shop was where races usually wrapped up unless police got involved. She always wore her welding helmet and a leather jacket when racers filed in. You’d only ever stayed for a quick tune up, repair or gas refill before speeding off. Sylus had delivered your bike to her the night of the accident. You had called her to get an estimate and, without thinking, gave her your real name. The accident really scrambled your brain, what’s the point of having a code name if you forget to use it. 

“Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. I’ve been looking forward to meeting the genius behind that bike.”

You blink. 

“You built the engine yourself, right?” You nod. “Fuck, that thing is beautiful. And you’re not a mechanic?” You shake your head. “I swear if you say you used YouTube…” 

“Sorry…” 

“No! Don’t be. You did a great job. It’s almost ready for you to pick up. There’s a few parts I didn’t have, but Sylus said he could order them for you.”

Sylus turns around and produces your drink. You eagerly take it and sip, savoring the sharp bite of the Vodka and tart cranberry flavor. His hand settles on your hip and you almost choke on your second sip. 

“I don’t know if you remember, but…” She pauses, looking down to the end of the bar. She tenses and crosses her arms. 

“Uhh… you know what, I’ll catch up with your guys later. Congrats again!” 

She pushes her way through the crowd in the opposite direction. You look to the end of the bar and see Zayne making his way to you. 

“You look amazing.” 

You don’t wait for approval, you throw your arms around Zayne’s neck and pull him into a hug. He smiles against your shoulder. 

“Sylus! Hey!”

Another young man squeezes his way through the crowd. His shaggy blonde hair hangs in his eyes. His crispy white dress shirt is left unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up, for fucks sake is every one of Sylus’s friends heavily tattooed? 

“Xavier, I told you black tie.” 

The man, Xavier, chuckles - his raspy voice follows the same cadence as Sylus, but is much softer. He fiddles with the buttons of his shirt. His hands are covered in tattoos that travel up his arms, his neck tattoo dipping down to his chest and stomach. He looks completely covered, like there’s not an inch left - other than his face. Which has a few piercings, of course, Sylus must be in a club for body modification addicts.

“I don’t own a black tie, Sy. You know that.”

Sylus chuckles and pulls Xavier into a hug. After being released, Xavier steps to the side, to stand directly in front of you. 

“I would say congratulations, but he’s a handful. So… good luck!” 

“Oh fuck off!” Sylus chides. 

“What? You know I’m right.”

Sylus takes a step closer and Xavier feigns fear. 

“Okay, okay - since it’s your wedding, I’ll be nice. Call me Monday, I have the intel you wanted. It was nice to meet you, well… officially.”

“Xavier!” Sylus warns. 

Xavier grins and disappears into the crowd. Finishing your drink, you turn to Sylus and cross your arms. Zayne leans back against the bar, nursing his whiskey, trying to avoid the tension, but listening in at the same time. 

“Xavier maps our races.”

“And?” You push.

“And… he’s a hacker. He may have looked into you for me, just –”

“WHAT?”

“Just to help me prepare for your protection. You don’t just need physical protection, you’ll need cyber protection as well. And he’s the best there is. He didn’t dig too deep, alright?” 

“Where’s the lovely couple?” 

The singer shouts and the crowd hoots and hollers, looking around for you and Sylus. When they spot you, they start clapping and pointing. 

“Ahh, there they are! Come on up here you two, it’s time for your first dance!” 

Sylus holds out his hand and winks. You let him lead you to the dance floor. He positions your arms over his shoulders and slides his hands down over your curves to hold your waist. He tips his head down and nudges your nose with his, prompting you to look up at him.

“Focus on me, sweetie.”

His voice echoes in your mind as the band begins to play. The song is familiar, sweet and slow. When the wispy voice of the singer chimes in you blush and hide your face in his chest. The vibrations of his laughter make you flush hotter.

“I’m a fan of the classics. Elvis always got straight to the point, I like that.” 

He really chose Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis fucking Presley for your first dance. You turn to rest your cheek against his chest, your eyes downcast. He takes small steps, gently swaying. The room darkens and you stumble, he catches you and dips you back just enough to make it look intentional. As you regain your balance, you glance around, the lights are so low you can’t see the crowd of onlookers. There’s a subtle buzzing sound behind you, but before you can turn to look Sylus grabs your chin and brings your attention back to him.

“Remember what you said earlier, before the wedding?”

You squint, his face may be dimly lit but his eyes are glowing. It’s strangely intoxicating, you can’t look away. Your mind works overtime trying to recall what you could have said that he could be referring to now. The buzzing suddenly stops, followed by a deep hiss. Sylus let's go and as you look over your shoulder you see the dance floor slowly being covered in fog. His hot breath tickles your ear as he leans in.

“Looks like we’re on a cloud… just floating.”

You swear your heart skips a beat and you don’t have arrhythmia. He brought the clouds to you. This man you barely know, who married you to protect you, invited you into his world, showered you with luxury and has handled you with such care ever since the night he found you in that ditch. He’s treated you better than any man ever has and he barely knows you. 

Maybe Elvis is right… Maybe falling in love is something you can’t control. 

The sky is turning the lightest shade of pink when Sylus’s car pulls into the parking garage of a massive building at the center of the Zone. You lean your head back on the headrest and pinch the bridge of your nose, the reception was more lively than you expected. Everyone was drinking, dancing and tapping their glasses repeatedly for the happy couple to kiss. After tonight, you’re fairly certain you could draw Sylus’s lips based on memory alone. 

As Sylus’s car winds higher and higher through the levels, you glance over at him. He’d discarded his suit jacket before jumping in the driver seat so his sleeves could be rolled up. His forearm flexes as he turns, his thumb tapping the top of the steering wheel. His profile is backlit from the neon blue lights of the garage. The bump on the ridge of his nose, his long lashes, his lower lip caught between his teeth. You shake your head, alcohol and exhaustion make you extra horny - noted. 

He stops at a booth and waves at the attendant who unlocks the door to a private garage on the top level. He parks the car and jumps out to open your door. Your feet are swollen after spending the night dancing, either with Sylus or Yvonne. The boot on your injured foot was uncomfortably tight and the moment you stepped out of the car you groaned. You cover your mouth, eyes wide with embarrassment. Sylus presses lightly on your shoulder, leaning you back against the car. He crouches and removes the sandal off of your uninjured foot and peels back the velcro of the boot. He slides your foot free and you sigh at the rush of air.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to – Sylus!”

He picks you up with one arm, holding your boot and sandal in his other hand. Your arms coil around his neck as you hang on. Sylus nods to a man standing in front of the elevator, he stands aside and Sylus enters, an iron gate closed behind him. The elevator ascends and you tap him on the shoulder, he tilts his head back and his eyes widen as you pet his head.

“You can put me down now.”

He shakes his head.

“I intend to carry you over the threshold like a gentleman, angel. And I don’t think you can walk with your ankle swollen like that.”

“Carry me over the threshold? Sylus…”

The doors open before he can respond. When you realize the doors opened directly into an apartment it clicks, of course he owns the penthouse. He carries you through the living area, dark gray walls with shiny black floors, the walls lined with the occasional painting or gun case. The strong scent of leather and firewood drifts through the air, it turns floral as you pass the dining room. A long obsidian table lined with plush red chairs, huge arrangement of what look like red orchids. You pass by a man in a suit carrying a large vase of black dahlia flowers and gasp, you open your mouth but Sylus beats you to it.

“He’s been collecting any flowers that are toxic to cats and replacing them. Those were in my room, Ollie is fine.”

He drops your shoes and swings a set of double doors open. You spot a mountain of boxes stacked in the corner, but besides that, the room looks completely put together. A king size bed with an egregious amount of pillows, floor to ceiling windows, a couch and faux fireplace, a bookcase and large mahogany desk. Two doors sit open along the far wall, one is an empty walk-in closet and the other you assume is a bathroom. 

Sylus sets you down on the edge of the bed and backs up. There’s a low growl from the corner of the room and you look past Sylus to see Ollie hunched in the corner under the desk. 

“Ollie! Baby, come here honey… It’s okay!”

He doesn’t move. Sylus takes a knee and extends his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you Ollie.”

Ollie growls again, but inches forward. His nose lifts into the air, his head bobbing as he sniffs the air. Staying low to the ground he crawls out from under the desk. Sylus doesn’t move and you’re too intrigued to say a word. Ollie twists his body and hunches his back, his ears flattening. Another pitiful growl, he puffs his fur. 

“I can do that too.” Sylus purrs.

He wraps himself in mist, letting it spiral and spin around him. This must be his evol… His eyes glow and he tilts his head, like he’s challenging Ollie. 

“Sylus! You’re scaring him.”

Ollie yowls and bounces sideways towards Sylus. Sylus doesn’t move, he just stares at Ollie. Another low growl and Ollie deflates. You blink. He lowers his head and sniffs, slinking forward until his nose is nearly touching Sylus’s fingers. The energy evaporates, his eyes stop glowing. Ollie chirps and he licks Sylus’s fingers, bumping his nose over each finger before rubbing his head into his palm. 

“See, we can be friends.”

You glare at Sylus. He’s petting Ollie now, who is pacing back and forth, clearly enjoying the attention and pats.

“Did you just have a standoff with my cat?”

“Not a standoff, just a display of power. We’ve reached an understanding.”

“You’re so weird…” 

Sylus chuckles and pats Ollie on the head one last time before standing.

“If you need any additional furniture, just let me know. You’re welcome to explore the house, just don’t try to open the door with the number pad. That’s my armory, it’s probably better if you don’t know what I keep in there.”

“Actually, uhm…” You avoid making eye contact, painfully aware of how awkward you feel.

“I don’t think I can… get out… of this…” You gesture to your dress. 

Sylus sits on the bed beside you and turns your shoulders until you shift your back to him. He removes the bow attached and unravels the knot carefully. As the corset loosens, you cross your arms over your chest to hold the bodice up. His fingers graze the skin of your back and you bite back a moan. You really need to get it together, even Ollie can sense how pitiful you are. Sylus stands and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you.” You mutter. 

“Of course. I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight… wife.” 

You scoff and give him a playful smile. 

“Goodnight, husband.”

He closes the door behind him and you limp your way into the closet. Thankfully, the boxes are labelled and you find your pajamas quickly. Ripping open the box, you grab a pair of slippers, sweatpants and a tank top. You quickly change and limp over to the mountain of boxes, finding one labelled “medical stuff” - sure enough, your ankle brace is right on top. Slipping it on, you shove your feet into your slippers and head into the bathroom.

The bathroom is twice as big as your bedroom. A massive walk-in shower, a tub you could consider a small pool, a separate room for the toilet, a… sauna… okay… Next to the boxes with your bathroom necessities, you spot an unopened box for a fancy litter box tree. 

“Fuck me…”

After taking off your makeup and tossing your hair into a messy bun, you decide to explore. You pass Ollie on your new bed, curled up by the pillows. You give him a quick kiss before cracking the door open and stepping out. 

You pad your way through the winding halls, exploring the various rooms. There’s a library with an enormous wingback chair by the window. A fully equipped gym with a boxing ring. An absolutely stunning kitchen with a walk-in wine closet. A home theater with a popcorn machine and candy station. An indoor pool and hot tub. You find the door with the number pad and pause for a moment, allowing your imagination to run wild with what he could have locked up in there. After you convince yourself it really is best you don’t know, you continue your tour. 

Your signal to stop is when your leg starts hurting again. You make your way down the hall towards your room, but the subtle hum of music makes you pause. You follow the sound, you turn down the only hallway you have yet to explore. There are two doors, you press your ear to the first and hear nothing. Opening the door a crack, you see a massive four-poster bed with a canopy, black silk frames the mattress. You assume it’s Sylus’s bedroom, it certainly fits his aesthetic - much like the whole house to be honest. Other than your room, the whole house gives off vampire lord vibes. 

The second door isn’t closed completely. You tip-toe, well you try to, down the hall to take a closer look. Peering into the room, you see a desk with a stack of books and various folders. A fireplace crackles and next to it, a vintage gramophone plays a somber melody. You spot Sylus seated in an armchair, swirling a glass of whiskey. You’re about to push open the door when the song picks up and a voice rings out. 

The lyrics rip through you, with questions of how to love and trust again. The singer mourns, perpetuating the ache of the loss with the image of dancing with the ghost of their lost love. You start to put the pieces together, he didn’t want to get married… Could this be why? He already loved someone… and he lost them.

Sylus sips his drink in silence, staring into the fire with a blank expression. What’s going through his mind? Who did he lose? How did he lose them? Why is he torturing himself like this? Your heart aches for him. He looks down at his now empty glass and stands prompting you to sprint down the hall. You carefully close your bedroom door behind you and hurry over to your bed. You crawl under the blankets beside Ollie, who immediately snuggles up next to you once you’re settled. You stare at the ceiling. Who did you marry? And what happened to him?

It’s been nearly 2 weeks since you and Sylus got married. So far, you’ve been like ships passing in the night, barely seeing each other for more than a few minutes. It was like he worked a graveyard shift while you worked… well, you worked a “who-the-fuck-knows” shift. You had been scheduled for day shift lately which meant you were coming home when Sylus was heading out. You’d become fairly familiar with the house now, memorizing certain codes for the private garage and elevator. Sylus even gave you your own black card.

“Get whatever you need… or want for that matter.”

You hadn’t touched the card until today, you didn’t want to get accustomed to spending his money. But when the hospital was visited by the Linkon City Scouts and you saw their giant wagon of cookies… it was a done deal. You just finished placing the last box of double chocolate chunk cookies on the kitchen island when Sylus walked in. 

“I didn’t realize we had a delivery of… Ooey Gooey Choco Chunk Cookies arriving today…”

You didn’t realize he was even home… You definitely wouldn’t be in your oversized hoodie with no pants on if you’d known. Sliding around the counter to hide your bare legs, you smile.

“I’m sorry, the Linkon City Scouts were at Akso today and those girls know exactly how to guilt trip you into spending a fortune. These… also happen to be my favorite cookies of all time…”

He picks up a box and opens it, bringing the box to his nose. He pulls a cookie out. The ridiculous chocolate chunks look heavenly, you almost want to snatch it out of his hand. He stuffs it in his mouth before you can make a move. He nods, but his face doesn’t twist with overwhelming joy like you expected. 

“Pretty good.”

You scoff and stomp your foot. Sylus chuckles and you cross your arms.

“What?”

“Pretty good? Pretty good! I… what… how…”

“Aww… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your favorite cookie, sweetie.” 

“Oh shut up!”

He laughs, that full bodied, “rich man” laugh that you’ve grown quite fond of. He rests his hip against the counter and rolls up his sleeves. 

“I was just glad to see you finally used the card. Even if it was for cookies.”

You’re about to hit him with a witty comeback but stop short.

“Wait… how did you…? I’ll pay you back, I swear!”

“Don’t, besides it went to a good cause. The Linkon City Scouts made a small fortune and you have a smile on your face.”

You blush, clearing your throat to distract yourself.

“Are you just heading out?”

He shakes his head and grabs another cookie out of the box.

“Things have… slowed down a bit. I’m spending tonight at home.”

“Oh! Uhh… okay…”

“I was actually going to work on your bike.”

You gasp and scurry around the counter to stand in front of him. 

“My bike? What? When did – how – where?!”

He places his hands on your shoulders and grins. Even with how excited you are, you don’t miss how he looks at you, eyeing your legs for a moment longer. 

“It was delivered this morning. And the parts you needed came in last week. I’m going to the garage to finish fixing it up.”

“You don’t need to do that! I should… I should be the one to fix it… Wait, you didn’t pay for the repair already, right?”

He removes his hands and turns to walk out of the kitchen, you grab his hand and try - keyword try - to pull him back. He ends up dragging you forward a few feet. 

“Sylus! I’m the one who crashed, I should pay for it and fix it!”

You nearly trip over the step into the dining room from the kitchen. When you bump into his back, he finally stops.

“Help me fix it then.”

You can tell by his expression that he has made up his mind. His eyes drop down to where your hand is still wrapped around his wrist. You let go, slowly, and side step him. 

“Fine.” You stomp off towards your room.

“Where are you going? Garage is this way.”

“I can’t fix my bike without pants on!”

“Not with that attitude!” 

You spin around and continue to walk backwards, making your face as animated as possible to laugh sarcastically. He smirks and watches you walk away. You’re especially careful when you turn around, if you trip you’ll never get over the anguish and embarrassment. 

Ollie greets you at your bedroom door with a squeak. Sylus said he’s welcome to roam the house, but you want to make sure he’s acclimated to your room first. That way he’ll have a safe space to run to. You scoop him up and give his belly a kiss. He chirps and stretches his back legs until his toes are spread. Dropping him on the bed, you rush into your closet to find something suitable. A pair of jeans… nothing too fitted, but something that will make your ass look good. Wait, why do you care what your ass looks like when you’re just trying to fix your bike? Okay, well you know why…

“Just be cool. Don’t be weird. Fix your bike and…”

You can’t even finish your thought, the idea of Sylus bent over your bike takes you right out. You bite your lip as you slip on a pair of baggy jeans and a cropped black tank top. Sliding on your converse sneakers proves to be a challenge because Ollie decides your shoelaces are his new hyperfixation. Before you trip over the silly cat, you fish a bag of treats out of your night stand and toss one in the air for him to catch. 

“Silly boy…”

With one hand you toss your hair on top of your head with a claw clip while looking for your work gloves. You’d unpacked almost everything, but had shoved most of your biking boxes deep in your closet. Though you’ve been medically cleared, your leg aches every time you even think about sorting through them. 

You find the gloves and tuck them in your pocket. You jog through the house to the elevator, punch in the code and ride it down to the private garage. When you exit, you head towards the “bike” section, where all of Sylus’s bikes are lined up in a neat little row.

He basically has his own mechanic shop here in his own garage. Every tool, an engine hoist, an air compressor, a lifting jack and a whole shelving unit of spare parts. You hear the clanking of tools and as you pass the last car you see Sylus… 

Oh…

His shirt hung from the handlebars of a nearby bike. His bare torso was already glistening with a thin layer of sweat. His pants hung low on his hips, his belt unhooked. Your evol might be acting up because you are actually frozen in place. Not a force in the world could move you from this spot. You’d seen Sylus’s tattoos the night of the accident, from a distance and through a narrow gap in a doorway. But now? Goddamn. 

Full sleeves with pops of red, the dragon tattoo that started at his chest and disappeared at his waistband, and when he turned around to grab a tool you could finally see his back. Skeletal wings branching off of a spine that ended in a point at his lower back. He pauses and moves closer to you. You don’t even realize he’s noticed you until he’s directly in front of you. Your eyes are level with his chest and those damn nipple rings. A single finger hooks under your chin and tips your head back to face him. 

“Eyes up here angel.” 

You try to laugh, but what comes out is a pathetic gurgle. He returns to his spot beside your bike, which looks so much better already. The heat that radiated off of him must have thawed you out because you can walk again… You approach your bike and bend down to examine the body work.

“I’ll have to get some parts resprayed, but as long as it runs that’s what matters.” 

“We just have, let me see… the ECU and suspension to change out, yea?”

You straighten and survey his work. He’d already removed the seat and unplugged the battery, revealing the empty spot where the ECU should be. 

“Looks like it just needs to be plugged in. Where is the –” You look up and Sylus is already holding the new part. “Oh… thanks…”

You take the ECU and slide it into place, plugging it in and securing the restraints. Sylus watches you work in silence. Handing you the wrench to plug the battery back in. You stretch out your hand for the drill to fasten the seat in place, but never receive it. When you look up, Sylus is inspecting the tool.

“Uh… Sylus?”

“Why did you start racing?”

You blink… slowly.

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking about that night. Finding you, taking you to Zayne, learning about your deal with Volkova. And I can’t help but wonder… Why risk your whole career to race?” 

You haven’t had to explain this, well, ever. It’s been your secret for the past few years and you’ve always liked it that way. No one knew and that made it exciting. You put your hands on your hips and indulge his curiosity. 

“On my first day at Akso, Dr Noah took all the interns on a tour. The last stop was the OR. He gave us the typical lecture about how some of us wouldn’t make it and we need to support each other and all of that. But… he said one more thing. He said that being a surgeon meant we crave adrenaline, that we thrive in high stress situations. He said we need to learn how to train our minds to be calm no matter how much adrenaline is pumping through our veins. That we had to train our mind like any other muscle group, repetition, consistency.”

You crouch and run your hand along the discolored sections of the frame.

“I always preferred bikes. I mean I got my motorcycle license before my regular license. I was just on a ride a few weeks into my internship when I almost crashed into a race passing through Central. And I don’t… I don’t know why but I followed them. I just watched from a distance. Until someone rolled up on me.”

“Do you remember who?” 

“Kawauso. She tried to be scary, but with a bright pink bike? Yeah, she dropped the facade and invited me over. I got the rundown about the racing scene. I knew it was risky, I knew it didn’t make sense with my career and… everything, but… I just… wanted to do it anyway.” 

You stand up and Sylus offers the drill. You accept it and he holds the seat down as you screw it in place. He turns and picks up a box off the floor, laying out the new shocks on a nearby bench. He drags over a lift and slides it under your bike, pumping the lever with his foot to prop it up. He offers you a wrench and a torque wrench. You squat down and begin to loosen the bolts on the shocks currently attached.

“It does.”

“What?”

“It does make sense.”

He offers you a genuine smile as he holds out his hand. You pass him the bolts and line up the new shock. You measure how high you need to prop up the rear tire and shove wooden blocks underneath to level it out. 

“I’m assuming your alias is related to your evol, right?”

“Hold on, is this just a Q&A for me? I should ask you questions too.”

“You could, but I might not answer.”

“Then I might not answer either.” 

You're locked in a minute-long staring contest before he gives in. He sighs.

“Fine. Ask your question.”

“Why dragons?” 

He raises a brow and you realize how blunt your question came across.

“You have a lot of artwork, sculptures, jewelry… tattoos… all dragon related. I can only assume there’s some significance?”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“Do you remember what you said about your snow leopard?”

“Dragons are your spirit animal?” He nods. 

“Ooh! I should call you… what’s his name… the little dragon from Mulan?”

“You are not going to call me Mushu.”

“Aww why not? It’s cute.”

You can tell he’s trying to keep his glare as menacing as possible, but when you bat your eyelashes he folds. Standing up straight, he crosses his arms.

“No.”

“Fine.” You grumble as you finish securing the bolts. “Okay, it’s done.”

Sylus helps you remove the wooden blocks under the wheel and releases the valve, lowering the lift. He holds the bike steady while you return the tools to the workbench. 

“You should test the height, make sure it feels good.”

You round the bike and swing your leg over, Sylus steps back and watches as you lean forward and wiggle side-to-side. You can feel your heart start to race and your throat burns causing tears to well up behind your eyes. You try to ignore it, but it only gets worse. Lifting a foot to the foot rest, you realize that while the height is perfect you weren’t ready for the way the bike shifts beneath you. You shove your heel down trying to put down the kickstand. While you successfully kick it down, you lose your balance in the process.

“Careful!” Sylus shouts.

You slide off the bike, but your legs are numb and tingling. The garage tilts and your ears begin to ring. When you open your eyes you’re on the floor… on top of Sylus, his arms around you with one of his hands holding the back of your head. You’re sweating and shivering, like you have a fever that came on rapidly. Your brain is telling you to get up, but your body is so slow to react. Your cheek against his chest is comforting, hearing his heartbeat steadies your own.

“Angel…” 

His voice is gentle, he moves the hair that had fallen over your face out of the way.

“Are you alright?” 

“I… I think so.” You sound drunk, your words slurred. 

“Let’s sit up.”

He rolls to his side, he lowers his hand to gather your legs and set you on his lap as he sits up. You come up with a whole speech about how you’re fine and he doesn’t need to do this and you can get up, but not a word comes out of your mouth. He cradles you to his chest as he presses the back of his hand against your cheek and forehead.

“You’re warm.”

In a moment of weakness, you look up at him. His eyes are filled with concern and his cheeks are just a tad bit flushed. Your mind is so foggy you don’t realize your gaze has dropped to his lips. They part slightly, a shallow breath. When you meet his gaze again, his pupils are blown as if he’s searching your face for any sign of discomfort, confusion, anger. His palm warms your cheek, his fingers wiping away tears you hadn’t felt fall. The distance is too much and yet not enough, does he want this too? You’re leaning forward before your anxiety can stop you…

Beep Beep Beep

Your phone… The pager ringtone you specifically bought for hospital alerts. Shit. You place a hand on his chest.

“I’m getting called back in. I… uhm… thank you for helping me with my bike.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

You nod and hold your breath as you force yourself to stand. Ignoring the wave of dizziness, you pull your phone from your pocket. Sure enough, mass casualty, all hands on deck. 

“I have to go, MCI. Thanks again!”

You rush out of the garage and back upstairs to get your scrubs and an energy drink. Sylus isn’t in the garage when you return to get in your car. While you’re thankful for that, you also wish you could have seen him one more time before heading out. 

Another week goes by… You see even less of Sylus. Not that you really noticed - you totally did - you had been pulling doubles and any free time was spent studying for the boards. Zayne found you curled up in an on-call room after working 48 hours straight and sent you home with the strict orders not to come back until the weekend. A forced 3 day break? Rare.

The first day was spent catching up on sleep, barely leaving your bed unless you needed water or to use the bathroom. Sadly, what woke you up on the second day was the ear piercing shatter of something in the hallway. Half asleep you sprint out of your room and find Ollie hiding under a nearby table. 

“Oliver Oscar Odin! What did you do?!”

A gorgeous, and possibly priceless, vase lies shattered on the floor. The arrangement of red and orange snapdragon flowers is completely destroyed. You tiptoe around the water and broken glass to find a towel and broom. All the while, rehearsing what you’ll say to Sylus. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have let him out of my room. Too many fancy things… Oh my god, how much did that cost? Probably more than I make in a year. Or 10. Fuck… Ollie you little… sh–”

“What did your son do now?”

You’ve just finished sweeping up the broken glass, but the flowers are still scattered and the pink towel on the floor is a dead giveaway. Sylus surveys the damage and bends down, finding Ollie under the table almost instantly.

“Sir, that wasn’t very nice.”

“I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for the vase and, I should have offered this sooner, I can cat-proof the house! There’s so many nice things and Ollie… well, I’ve been working more lately and he’s clingy and–”

“Angel, slow down.”

He holds your shoulders and stops your rambling. 

“It’s just a vase. Are you and Ollie alright?”

You open your mouth, but words fail you. Looking over your shoulder you see Ollie sniffing the fallen flowers. He taps them with his paw as if they’ll come to life at any moment.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Good, because I was hoping you’d be available tonight for dinner.”

Talk about whiplash. 

“Dinner?”

“I got word that Volkova is going to a meeting at one of my restaurants. I thought it would be a good opportunity to make our presence known and maybe get under his skin a touch.” 

Giggling, you hug the broom handle. Is this a date or a mission to him?

“So you’re not going to like… hurt him or anything? We’re just intimidating him, right?”

He nods and suddenly bends down, you hadn’t noticed Ollie rubbing against Sylus’s leg for the past minute. Once you see Ollie in Sylus’s arms, pushing his little face into the crook of his neck… oh you are so done for. There is nothing in this world that could make you fold faster than a man who is cuddling with your cat. He could bend you over right now and…

“So? Are you free tonight?”

“Ahh… yes. Yes I am.”

“Can you be ready in an hour?”

You can hear Ollie purring and you’re not a heart specialist, but you’re fairly certain it’s about to stop functioning… You nod and Sylus turns to leave with Ollie in tow.

“Where are you taking my son?!”

Sylus’s laugh echoes down the hallway, he calls out over his shoulder.

“I’m showing him the most expensive vases to break!”

You scowl at his cheeky remark and quickly finish cleaning up the mess Ollie made. Rushing back to your room to find something to wear and tame the rats nest on your head. You have no idea what kind of restaurant you’re going to, how fancy it is, if there’s a dress code… You don’t own a lot of dresses so you don’t have many options. Then you remember a gift Yvonne gave you for Christmas last year. 

“That… that I can work with.”

You’re putting the finishing touches on your outfit when you hear a soft knock at your door. You quickly open the door and find Sylus leaning against the doorway. His silk dress shirt hangs loosely from his toned torso, unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up - as usual. High-waisted dress pants cut into his waist just right, a chain belt draped over his hip. His necklace, wait… oh… it’s a body chain. Cool. Awesome. Spectacular. His body chain dips down beneath his shirt and your mind does a backflip trying to pull it together. 

“You look… amazing.” 

You laugh awkwardly, not noticing Sylus had been checking you out as well. Yvonne’s gift was obviously a winner. A short leather skirt with a zipper down the front and matching cropped camisole. You’d layered the camisole over an oversized white dress shirt, tucking half the shirt into the skirt. Your over-the-knee boots are almost too tight on your thighs now, hours of running around the hospital has obviously made an impact.

“Th-thank you. I wasn’t sure if this place is fancy, so if I need to change I can!”

“No, you look perfect. Amazing, as always.”

“Stop that.” 

That was not meant to be spoken out loud, but okay… 

“Stop what?”

“Stop… being so nice to me.”

Sylus gasps in mock horror.

“That’s not going to happen sweetie.” 

He offers his arm and escorts you to the garage, smirking like a fiend the whole way. Sylus’s penthouse was located at the heart of the N109 Zone, so the drive to the restaurant was relatively short. He waves at the hostess and walks you to the table himself, not waiting to be seated. You can already feel the eyes of everyone in the room sizing you up.

“This is my usual table, best view but close to the exit. We can move if you like?”

“No, this is nice, the view is breathtaking…”

The lake at the center of the N109 Zone was almost destroyed after the incident. The once prosperous Zone was plunged into darkness, wildlife and nature took the brunt of the impact. The damage to the community came later. In recent years, the lake has been renovated and restored, this restaurant seems to be thriving due to its proximity to one of the last natural beauties of the Zone. You’d become accustomed to the blue neon lights illuminating every street, but the string lights lining the perimeter of the lake cast a warm glow over the dark water. If it wasn’t 5 pm you’d think you were having a midnight meal under the stars.

A waitress arrives to deliver a bottle of wine and two glasses. You’re too distracted by the gorgeous view to realize the woman is positively foaming at the mouth over Sylus. She leans on the table and pops her hip out, bending over to level with Sylus. When her ass disrupts your view you finally take notice. Her thick blonde curls fall over her shoulder, the way her tight black mini skirt rides up and her white button up pops open… You reach across the table and pick up the wine bottle, serving yourself since your server is too busy eye-fucking your husband.

That’s a wild statement. Since when do you claim him? And why shouldn’t he find enjoyment elsewhere? It’s not like you’re really married, other than on paper. 

You pour almost half the bottle in your glass and take a long sip. Sylus has his eyes fixed on you, not that you noticed. The box-blonde server's audacity has your complete attention.

“Angel?” 

You almost think he’s talking to the waitress, but when you feel Sylus’s hand on your arm you refocus. He’s staring at you with a smirk which makes you even more frustrated. You tilt your head at him.

“Yes, honey?” 

His brows raise and his smirk falters for a moment, which, honestly, brings you immense pleasure. Catching this enigma of a man off guard is something you’re sure doesn’t happen often. He leans forward with his elbows on the table. The waitress stands up now, straightening her stance as she realizes your relation to her favorite customer.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to order Sy.”

She saunters away, flipping her hair over her shoulder. You take another sip. Sylus pours himself a glass and leans back.

“Honey?”

“Or would you prefer I also call you Sy?”

He looks into his glass and swirls the sweet Merlo. 

“You’re looking awfully jealous, kitten.”

Oh no no no no.

“Are you trying out some more nicknames for me now, Mushu?”

He sets down his glass and raises his hands, laughing.

“Alright, alright. I surrender.”

“I thought you said we were here to terrorize Volkova? I don’t even see him.”

“Behind me.”

You look over his shoulder and scan the room. Finally you spot a large group at the back of the restaurant. Volkova leans back in the booth, he’s already staring at you. You’re not sure what comes over you, but you raise your glass and nod, maintaining eye contact with the angry Russian the whole time. He attempts to smile, but he fails miserably. Opting to down the rest of his beer and shouting for their waiter for a refill. 

“Having fun?”

Sylus eyes you, clearly enjoying your seemingly out-of-character responses. 

“Maybe I am.”

Sylus orders for you, roast salmon with chimichurri sauce and toasted garlic quinoa. You’d never try it on your own, but Sylus has good taste so, why not? 

Dinner is served and it’s delicious, as expected. Conversation flows almost too naturally, there’s no awkward silences. Even during silent moments you are completely at ease. You’d learned your lesson last time and stopped drinking after one glass. 

“Your evol is rather unique isn’t it?”

“Is it now?” Sylus coos.

“What I’ve seen of it, yes. I still don’t fully understand what… it is?” 

He completely ignores the waitress who returns to clear the dinner plates. And this might make you a horrible person but… that made you happy. He takes a sip of water and rubs the back of his neck, stretching. You can hear a crack and wince.

“I’ve listened to doctors argue over whether it’s matter manipulation or atomic manipulation. Doesn’t matter to me. If I want… say…”

He looks at your wine glass.

“Refill your wine glass.”

You watch a red and black mist descend over the glass, when it dissipates the glass is full. 

“That’s incredible… Wait, doctors? Was your evol tested when you were young?”

If you hadn’t been staring so intently, you’d have missed how his eye twitched and his smile tightened. He lifts his hand and starts twisting one of the studs in his ear. A self-soothing tactic? You really should have paid more attention in those psychiatry classes.

The waitress arrives with your dessert, to your surprise it’s two small skillets sizzling as ice cream melts over what looks like a brownie. The strong scent of maple and pecans gives you an intense flashback from your childhood. Your mother used to make maple blondies with a drizzle of maple syrup. You stare down at the dish and blink back tears.

“Is this… a maple blondie?”

Sylus nods, his neutral expression changes quickly when he notices your eyes are glazed over.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing… My mom used to make these. Not as fancy, but damn…”

You take a spoonful of blondie and ice cream, using your fingers to place a pecan on top. As soon as the concoction hits your tongue you have to suppress a moan. Joyous memories flash behind your eyelids as you savor the spoonful. You’d have to remember to bring Zayne here. 

“How is married life?”

Volkova’s voice makes the sweet maple turn sour on your tongue. You swallow and look up to see him standing next to Sylus. You take another spoonful of dessert.

“Sweet.”

With that, you shove the spoon in your mouth and stretch your leg out to tap Sylus’s shin under the table. He smiles, catching your hint.

“What can I do for you, Antov?” 

“I should be asking you that question. You knew about the deal tonight, yes?”

Sylus smirks. Volkova crosses his bulky arms, making the fabric around his shoulders strain.

“Your intimidation tactics might work on lesser men, but it won’t work on me. Have a drink with me, as a celebration to a deal well struck. Even with you sniffing around.”

“I’d let the ink dry before you celebrate.” 

Volkova chuckles, he glances over to you. 

“And how about you Yuki onna? Are you going to deny me the honor as well?”

You run your foot along Sylus’s calf and he shifts in his seat. Again, he definitely got the message.

“Volkova.” Sylus stands and faces him. “It’s clear my wife is not interested in speaking with you. So I suggest you walk out before they carry you out in a body bag.”

You must be a sick and twisted individual because hot damn you’re wet… Volkova sighs and smiles at you and Sylus one last time before walking out. You watch him climb into the same blacked out Escalade from the day of your wedding. Once the car pulls off, you turn back to Sylus, who is next to you, offering his hand.

“Ready to get out of here?”

You nod and take his hand. He stops at the bar briefly to pay and exchange pleasantries with the owner. It’s not surprising that Sylus was the primary benefactor for getting this place up and running. What he told your parents wasn’t a total lie. The Zone is becoming less terrifying by the day. Or maybe that’s just because you have Sylus at your side.

“How far is your building?”

“What makes you think I own the whole building?” You pinch his side and he grins. “Okay, I do own the whole building. It’s maybe… 10 minutes?”

“Why don’t we walk home?”

“You want to walk? In the N109 Zone?”

You step closer, looping your arm through his. 

“You’re with me, what do I have to worry about?”

“Glad we’re on the same page now.” 

Oh, this cocky fucker. You hold onto him, your head resting on his shoulder, letting him lead. The evening air has a bitter chill to it, making you regret not bringing a thicker coat. Sylus takes your hand on his arm and laces his fingers with yours before tucking it in his jacket pocket. You keep your head down, but you give his hand a gentle squeeze. 

You pass the wreckage of a large building, it appears clean up efforts are ongoing. You hadn’t heard about any explosions or gang wars leading to such destruction, so it takes you by surprise. Sylus notices your slowing footsteps and follows your gaze across the street.

“Willow Creek Medical Center.”

“Huh?” 

“You’re wondering what the building was? It was Willow Creek Medical Center.”

“What happened to it? This looks recent.”

Sylus nods and continues walking, forcing you to look away.

“They were a private practice, doing fairly well. Had plans to get state funding and become a proper hospital. As rumors spread, certain… factions… were not so happy about their plans.”

“Someone attacked them because they wanted to build a hospital?” Sylus nods. “Who the fuck would do something like that?”

“People who don’t like competition.”

The way he said that… He’s not telling you everything, but maybe you don’t want to know the full story. Someone tried to destroy the potential future of medical care in an underserved area. Just as you’re about to ask more questions, you turn the corner and are ushered into the back entrance to Sylus’s private garage by a security guard. 

You pass Sylus’s various cars, finally reaching your bike, which is still propped up next to his. The warmth of the elevator makes you sigh in relief, leaning further into Sylus. He rests against the wall and looks down at you. God he looks good in this lighting… The way the low lights cast shadows across his sharp features. His brows, his nose, his jaw. The occasional flash as the light bounces off one of the golden studs on his lip. 

It’s a battle of the mind, should you give into your desire or continue to maintain the friendly - if not flirty - relationship you’ve built with Sylus? You’re terrified you’re reading him wrong, does he have the same desire? What if he doesn’t? What if you take the chance and you ruin it? What if you don’t? What if, what if, what if. 

It’s like he’s reading your mind, he rests his forehead against yours. Your breath catches as you tilt your face up, your lips brushing his. Closing your eyes, you breathe deeply, inhaling his scent. The way his cologne clings to his skin, the lingering hint of the sweet wine from dinner. His other hand reaches up to touch your cheek, the lightest touch sending a jolt of heat through your skin to your core.

And then it’s ruined. Your cell phone rings. 

“Fuck…” You whisper. 

“The hospital again?” 

His fingers trace your jaw. You’re tempted to ignore the call, but it’s Zayne’s ringtone and he’ll just keep calling. You force yourself to move away, immediately craving his warmth again. 

“No, it’s Zayne.”

You reach into your coat pocket and grab your phone. As soon as you see that you have 3 unread texts from Zayne you start to panic. Something isn’t right. You quickly answer.

“Hey Zayne, sorry I didn’t realize you texted me.”

“Are you safe?”

His question immediately puts you on high alert and Sylus reaches out to steady you in response. The elevator doors open and you stumble into the house with Sylus at your side. 

“Yes, I’m safe, what’s wrong?”

“Volkova just left Akso.”

“What?!” 

Sylus motions for you to put the phone on speaker, you do so and hold the phone up between you. He helps you take off your coat while Zayne continues.

“He came in complaining of chest pain and requested me by name. Greyson offered to run tests but he wouldn’t accept anyone but me as his doctor.”

“You didn’t treat him, right?”

“I couldn’t exactly deny a patient, even if I suspected he was faking symptoms.”

“Zayne!”

“I wasn’t alone with him at any point, I made sure of that. And after I cleared him I told him I could refer him to another cardiologist as I’m not taking new patients at this time.”

“God… This is because of us, isn’t it?”

Sylus crosses his arms and sighs loud enough for Zayne to hear.

“What do you mean? What did you do?”

“We saw him tonight. I may have been… a bit aggressive.” Sylus admits.

“So he retaliated by coming to Akso to look for me?”

“I’ll handle it.” 

“No! You’ve done enough. He went after Zayne because you wanted to mess with him.” Sylus opens his mouth to reply, but your anger gets the better of you. “Is the deal he closed tonight going to fall through because of you?”

Sylus snaps his mouth shut. 

“Zayne, I’m so so sorry.”

You turn away from Sylus and hurry to your room, slamming the door behind you. You take your phone off speaker as you flop down on your bed. Zayne clears his throat.

“I’m okay. I can protect myself, you know?”

“I know, I just… I should have been more careful. I let my guard down, I should have told Sylus not to… I just.. Fuck…”

“Breathe. I’m fine. He left and I’m drafting a memo to staff doctors about referring him to Mercy General if he needs any more testing done.” 

After having Zayne walk you through a few more breathing exercises, he hangs up and goes back to work. You change into sweats and force Ollie to cuddle with you until your anxiety has calmed down. What if Volkova had gotten Zayne alone? What if he hurt him? 

What if marrying Sylus made things worse…?

“A female patient comes in and says they were in the ER a week ago after a car accident and diagnosed with a concussion. They are still suffering with symptoms like drowsiness and a severe headache. What are your first steps?” 

Yvonne holds the flashcard close to her chest as she sips her coffee. You tap your pen on the table and close your eyes, making a mental checklist of the steps you’d take. 

“First, I’d order a MRI to get a better look at her brain, see if there’s anything we missed during her first visit. I’d also assign a nurse to keep a close eye on her, if she presents any signs of a stroke or further discomfort they’ll need to contact me immediately.”

“Alright, while in the MRI she falls unconscious.”

“Are we seeing the results yet?”

“Yes, but the patient is unconscious.”

“Well, I need to know what I’m seeing before I order any medications or take drastic measures. I don’t want to make the damage worse.”

“The test shows an acute subdural hematoma on the right side of her brain.”

“Fuck… okay, I would…”

“Well, don’t say fuck in front of the administrator…”

You glare at Yvonne, making her giggle and almost spit out her coffee.

“Evie, I swear to god…”

“The patient is unconscious, doctor! She could be dying! Why are you wasting time?!” 

Okay, Greyson is having too much fun trying to make you nervous… You cover your eyes with your hands and refocus. Acute subdural hematoma. Unconscious.

“I would immediately send her to the OR while continuing my examination of the scan to choose my method of treatment.” 

“And what is your method of treatment?”

“Is the brain currently swollen?”

You peek at Yvonne through your fingers. She looks down at her card and nods.

“I would opt for a craniectomy to address the bleed and alleviate pressure.”

Yvonne tries to hide her smile, but you catch her quick wink. Unfortunately, so does Greyson.

“Yvonne, now she knows she’s right!”

“I’m sorry! She still hasn’t gone over the surgery itself though! There’s still time for you to freak her out.” 

“Oh, I see how it is, you guys are plotting against me!”

Greyson holds up his hands and Yvonne covers her mouth to avoid laughing too loudly. You’re all seated at a table in the kitchen of the largest on-call room at Akso. There’s an attached room with a few beds where almost every doctor tries to nap during their longer shifts. And right now, Zayne is taking a nap. The last thing you all want to do is irritate him by waking him up with your study session antics. 

“Okay, go ahead. Describe the procedure. Step by step please.” 

Before you have a chance to begin, his pager goes off. It’s still funny to you that Greyson uses an actual pager - a piece of literal ancient technology - instead of using his phone like everyone else. As soon as he sees the message he’s running out the door without a word. Yvonne gasps and gets up, pulling her doctor coat on quickly. 

“Sorry, that’s probably ICU. I need to go too, do you want to continue tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, I’m on New Year's duty, so I still have the rest of this week off.”

“I don’t know if I envy you or pity you…”

“Getting a full week off before and after New Year’s Eve and Day because of the absolute HELL it will be?”

“Okay, yeah, I pity you. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Yvonne rushes out, leaving you and the pile of flashcards and study guides in the breakroom. You grab a piece of paper and write a quick note for Zayne.

I’ll be around tomorrow night to study with Evie and Grey if you still want to talk. Please go home and stop sleeping in the on-call room. Love you.

You pack up your backpack, re-tie your snow boots and put on your puffer jacket. The hospital is eerily quiet at this time of night, the overnight shift just began so staff is doing their rounds and most of the patients are asleep. Usually, your late night study sessions last a little longer, but the ICU has been packed this week. Specifically the cardiac unit, so Yvonne and Greyson have been busier than usual. 

You take the steps and scan your badge at the backdoor to the staff parking garage. You remember you promised to text Sylus when you were heading home. Digging in your pocket, you realize your phone is not where you thought it’d be. Swinging your backpack off your shoulder, you unzip the front pocket and feel inside - not there either. As you reach your car, you pull off your backpack and set it on the hood. You’re about to unzip it when you hear a door slam. Looking around you don’t see anyone, not a soul. Maybe someone came out? Got in their car? But none of the cars are turning on. 

You’ve only just heard the scrape of boots on concrete when an arm wraps around your neck and something hard and cold is pressed into your back.

“Keep your mouth closed princess.” 

Your eyes immediately sting with tears and your legs shake. The man behind you yanks you back, half-carrying you as he backs you up to a van parked at the entrance of the garage. How did they get inside the private employee parking lot? You’re shoved against the side of the van, your cheek pressed against the cold metal. What you assume is a gun digs into your side even harder as the man removes his arm from around your throat.

“Put your hands behind your back and keep quiet. Boss told me not to mess up that pretty face, I’d hate to disappoint him.” 

You follow his commands, your mind racing as you come to terms with the fact you’re being taken. You’re actually being kidnapped. It has to be Volkova, right? Unless Sylus has another enemy, which is actually pretty likely. But Volkova has been his primary problem for months now. Your wrists are secured with zip ties before the man pulls the van door open. He shoves you inside, your knees scrap against the rough floor of the empty cabin. 

“Now stay still.”

The man slams the door shut and runs to hop in the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life and the van speeds out of the parking lot. With no windows you have no idea which way he turned and you can’t sit up to look out the front windshield because he keeps looking back at you through the mirror. Even the tiniest shift makes him shout at you to stay fucking still.

You try to calm your mind, counting to keep track of how many minutes have gone by since he took you. 5 minutes… 10 minutes… You’re getting closer to the border to the N109 Zone. As streetlights go from Linkon City warmth to N109 Zone neon your panic swells. You have to do something… Anything… What do you –

Bang Bang Bang

Three shots. The van slides and spins as the driver loses control. You try to grab onto something behind you, but there’s nothing… The van hits something and you’re thrown to the other side. Finally the van skids to a stop and the driver jumps out, you roll onto your side and pull your knees up to your chest. 

Bang

A single shot this time. You hold your breath as everything goes quiet. Footsteps, right outside. You can’t decide if you should scream for help or pretend to be unconscious. You don’t have the chance to choose as the doors to the van fly open.

“Sylus!”

Sylus dives into the van to grab you, gently pulling you out. He sits you down in the grass beside the road and takes your hands in his. When did the zip-ties come off? He runs his fingers along the red marks, searching for any sign of injury. He’s quiet and methodical as he examines you and as comforting as that should be, it only makes you worry. 

You take a moment to take in your surroundings. The smashed up van is up against a guard rail, glass and metal scattered across the road behind it. It’s a backroad of some kind, tall trees and thick bushes line the roadway. Sylus’s bike is next to the van, his helmet on the seat. And then you see him, the man who took you, on the ground… dead.

“Oh my god…”

Sylus lifts his hands to your face and turns your head back to him. His pupils are blown and his hair is damp with sweat. You try to look back over at the body, but he won’t let you.

“Y-you killed h-him… Oh my god Sylus you fucking killed him!”

His eyes narrow and he drops his hands to your shoulders.

“And you’re alive.”

You push him away from you and force yourself to stand, stumbling as you try to create distance. You take a step towards the body, but stop yourself. Your medical training tells you to run over and check for a pulse, no matter how unlikely it is. You can see the bullet wound to his forehead from where you stand. You should make an effort to save his life, but… you can’t. Or you don’t want to. 

“You… You could have just stopped him or… or…”

“Or what?”

You turn around and almost bump right into Sylus’s chest. He looks down at you, his voice is off, he’s angry. Or as close to angry as you’ve ever seen him.

“Or… You could have just knocked him out or…”

“Knocked him out?”

“Sylus, you KILLED SOMEONE!”

“What exactly do you think I do for a living?”

His tone silences you. He steps closer.

“When I asked you about Onychinus, you knew what that was. You’re too goddamn smart to stand here now and try to tell me you don’t fully understand exactly what my position requires.”

You take a step back, but he follows.

“You’re in too deep to play innocent now, angel. You were in too deep before I even met you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“What?”

“Don’t you dare throw that in my face. I know I fucked up. I was trying to fix it then and I’m trying to fix it now, but this is someone’s life!”

“It’s your life! Your life’s on the line and I vowed to protect that, remember?”

“And I vowed to save lives, no life is more important than another!”

“Yours is!” 

The rumble of a car engine interrupts your argument, not that you were going to say anything else. How do you respond to that? What does he mean? Why does he care so much? The BMW pulls up beside you and Sylus, the window rolls down to reveal Luke in the driver seat. 

“We got here as soon as we could.”

Kieran leans over the center console.

“What do you need, boss?”

Sylus doesn’t look away, his eyes remain locked on you.

“Take her home. And don’t leave until I get back.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Luke asks.

“No.”

He turns away and returns to his bike. He secures his helmet and hops on, speeding away without a second look. You stand next to the car and watch him drive off until he is a tiny speck in the distance. The car door opens and you look up to see Kieran holding the back door open for you. You slide in and close your eyes

“The guys are here, we should be good to go.” Luke says.

As he pulls away, you look out the back window. Another van is parked on the side of the road, a team of men in masks hop out. You see one of them cover the body with a sheet before Luke takes a turn. 

Luke and Kieran try to make small talk with you on the drive home, but you just stare out the window in silence. You can’t stop thinking about what Sylus said. 

Yours is. 

Luke hasn’t even parked the car before you’re jumping out and racing to the elevator. The boys wait in the car and let you take the ride alone. When you reach the penthouse you sprint to your bathroom, stripping down and climbing into a scalding shower. You throw on an oversized tee and underwear before shoving your leggings, sweater, puffer jacket, literally all of your clothes from tonight, into a trash bag and place it in the hall outside your door. You may have been zoned out, but you do recall Kieran’s instructions. 

You don’t care that your hair is wet or that you still have clumps of mascara stuck on your lashes. Crawling in bed with your blanket wrapped around you, you finally let yourself cry. You know you’re not crying for the dead man and what this means for you as a doctor… You’re crying because of the look on Sylus’s face when you backed away from him. That look of hurt and fear tore you apart. Now he’s god knows where. What if you don’t get a chance to say you’re sorry? 🏍️۶ৎ🩺

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @hauntedbysmut @withering-dream @lostwingz2236 @simpfortheseven @spacegroteske @namjoonseuphoria @celestialforce @rafshottestgf @oxamarok @withering-dream @zaynessbeloved @animecrazy76 @yournextdoorhousewitch @addiglessthanthree @4ttack-ur-heart @moonberry69 @pandoras-rabbit @cookiesaresquishy @hamnaalien @needlewandandthimble @brekkers-whore @goddexxluv @satansdaughter123 @poisonf0rest @darkalleycat1987 @morrigan87 @never-justforever @ericherries @lev-berryz @aishasylus @altair718

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A few more janky edits I made to help me visualize Sylus in this universe. Enjoy!

[3fingersofscotch]

Weeping

Eternal Flowers

Myth + Little Red Flower text message + ⭐️⭐️⭐️ memory Taking Control

中文版

[3fingersofscotch]

(S)CREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

//NSFW Zayne Audio// WEAR HEADPHONES 🎧

You help Doctor Zayne relax after his long day of work at the hospital.

[3fingersofscotch]

ANIMATED LINES | myth 001.

──────── ⵌ LIGHTSEEKER ..

──────── ⵌ FORESEER ...

──────── ⵌ ABYSS WALKER ...

──────── ⵌ RELENTLESS CONQUEROR ...

──────── ⵌ FARSPACE COLONEL ...

listen …… it’s insane how much this game has consumed me. am I crying over hot fictional men ? yes. their lore is just heart wrenching. anyway ! I wanted to do their standard myth colours in my animated line collection. :’))) hope you like !

heads up, since these are soooo smolllll it’s better to save these via desktop !

blends : 001 / 002 / 003 / 004

read my pinned for usage rules !! like, reblog, and credit if you use :)

support me through ko-fi | more dividers →

[3fingersofscotch]

Like a Party Favor 3

Like a Party Favor Chapter 3

Pairing: M/M/M/M/F Sylus x Zayne x Rafayel x Xavier x Afab Reader

Summary: In what scenario does MC get passed around like a party favor? This one! THIS CHAPTER IS THE ONE WITH THE BIG GROUP SCENARIO. PLEASE ADVISE.

WARNINGS: 18+ mdni!! GANGBANG, word porn with just enough plot to make your brain happy, double penetration, vaginal and anal sex, rough face fucking, rough cunniligus, creampies, reverse harem, butt plugs, multiple partners, multiple positions, actual funny parts, gratuitous self pleasing smut.

Author's note: I started writing this back in August, so obviously some new cards have come out to spoil a couple of things. There is one chapter where Zayne is enjoying a martini. We know know he doesn't drink. Give me a break. This is a WIP. I'm trying to figure out how to fit Caleb in there somewhere.

Ao3- 3fingers_of_scotch Chapter 1 Chapter 2

dividers by @cafekitsune

Rafayel held you tightly as the movie continued to play in the background. You weren’t quite paying attention to it as he playfully stole kisses from you. You loved seeing his smile extend to his eyes as he doted on you. He could really live in the moment when he wanted to, and during that movie, it was just you and him against the world and nothing else mattered.

You notice that his breathing becomes deeper and even just before the end credits role. His grip loosens as he falls asleep and you get up to grab a blanket to cover him.

He grabs your wrist, eyes peeking as his eyelashes flutter.

“Shh,” you coo as you cover him with a warm blanket. “I’m just going to go find my own room.” You can’t just keep sleeping in Sylus’ if everyone is going to be around. It didn’t seem fair.

“That’s fine. Just dun ever leave me again,” he breathes and his eyes close as sleep claims him.

Its painfully sweet and you leave with a smile, knocking on the bedroom doors around you to try and find an empty one.

Sylus’ base is so big, its hard to remember what is where. The first 3 doors you opened were being used for weapons and material storage. You knock once more. There is no answer and you open the door, seeing a normal room with a bed.

For a moment, you feel triumphant as you flick on the light. You startle yourself when you see a figure lying on the bed. Xavier’s chest rises and falls with his steady breathing.

You can’t help the soft smile that playfully stretches across your face. He’s cute as he sleeps and you lay down next to him to run your fingers in his hair. Xavier has always felt like your safe place, even at his most dangerous. The warmth and his scent make you sleepy and you find yourself succumbing to the call of darkness, sinking in under the sheets.

You aren’t sure for how long you slept, but a hand trails your body tantalizingly. Xavier is awake in every sense of the word. Some time during your nap, his body spooned yours and you feel his hard cock pressed against your ass.

“Mhmm, Xavier,” you whisper, arching into his touch as his strong hands grasp your breasts through the fabric of your dress. This is how the two of you just kept happening. You’d respond so deliciously to his advances, failing to pump the breaks at each step.

He groans before kissing the side of your neck that is exposed to him. His hands move from your breasts to underneath your dress, ghosting over your pussy that’s still uncomfortably wet from a combination of Zayne’s and Rafayel’s cum.

“You are sloppy,” he says after you lift your outer leg to give him better access. His fingers slip under your panties to rub the oozing cum around your clit and experimentally sink in which makes you whimper. He withdraws, making you whine and lifts his fingers to your lips.

“I know this is not just your juices,” he whispers and thrusts his fingers in your mouth. You suck them clean.

“Does that make you mad?” You ask genuinely. He hasn’t given you his opinion on the matter at all.

“No, just a little jealous.” You fear that he will abandon your body, but he ruts against your ass firmly. “Perhaps I should add to your collection? Hm?”

“Oh, God! Yes!” you cry and you feel his hands tug your panties down. You help him, lifting your body and kicking the fabric off your legs. You attempt to roll over and climb on top of him, but his strong hands roll you back on to your side. He grinds hard against your ass before he pulls up the fabric of your dress. He pulls away for a second and you feel him struggle to pull his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free before he returns, lifting your leg and to enter you from behind.

You can’t help but notice that out of all of them, Xavier has the extra length to really make this position work.

“Holy shit,” you pant, clutching the sheets beneath you as the head of his cock teases you. You know he is doing it on purpose, teasing your folds. He wants you to beg. His labored breath tickles your ear and it makes your spine tingle.

“Xavier, please,” you beg, wiggling your hips in earnest.

“Please, what?” he asks as if he isn’t torturing you with his teasing. He sounds amused and it maddens you.

“God! Xavier, please!” you feel him thrust and hear a singular clap of flesh when Xavier pauses to continue his torture.

“You know that’s not enough, dear. Tell me what you want,” Xavier whispers. “Tell me everything.” Xavier was the type that wanted you to be extremely vocal during sex. The play-by-play makes him hotter for you and it’s embarrassing and sexy at the same time.

“Xavier, I want you to use your cock to make me feel good!” Xavier’s hips snap and buck upward and you cry out as he plunges, hitting your cervix wall over and over. It’s a good kind of hurt combined with the pressure you crave and you can tell Xavier is getting off to the sounds you are making as he huffs in your ear.

“Honey, does that feel good?” He asks. He already knows the answer, but he wants you to shower him with praise as fucks you with that long, gorgeous cock that could make you weep.

“It feels so good,” you assure him because it does and he deserves the praise that he seeks. Xavier is so good at making you come. In fact, he is so good its nearly frustrating as it doesn’t seem fair. You don’t know why he keeps coming back for more when on a regular basis, he’d bless you with multiple orgasms and he would leave happy with only one or two.

His grip tightens around the leg he still has raised so that he can fuck you from behind and you find out he was just getting a better grip so he can fuck you harder and it makes you squeal.

“Yes! You fuck me so good!”

He hums with delight as you grow hotter. The pretty pink dress bunched around your waist is practically stifling and you need air and water but more than that, you need release and you feel like you are almost there.

“Xavier, you are about to make me cum!” There are a billion ways to combine words into a sentence and out of all of them, this is Xavier’s absolutely favorite one. You can’t see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he fucks you from behind, but you feel his pace deepen with fury like his is jumping into you. The moan you release is rasping and earth shaking and your body shakes, making the mattress tremble beneath. Xavier pauses, allowing you to breathe as he feels the waves of heat radiating from your body.

He isn’t done yet and you are rolled onto your back. He still has that damn leg in his grip and he pushes it straight up into the air and leans his body weight against it as he enters you. Its torturous bliss as he slips back into your core. You feel the cum that was in you squirting out as your walls throb around his cock and more oozes out with each pump from Xavier’s hips.

Xavier kisses the ankle he is holding as he thrusts while you cry out, begging.

“Please, please!” You have no idea what you are begging for.

“I hear you let someone fuck your mouth,” Xavier hisses. His eyes darken with jealousy. “And you let that same person have your ass?”

The thrusting is fueled by rage and jealousy and you can’t believe how sexy it is to see the angry look on Xavier’s face as he pins you down and fucks you, sinking his entire length inside you over and over. He is trying to punish you, but the crack of his hips is bliss as you feel the weight of him leaning forward glide tantalizingly across your clit sending sparks in waves that make you tingle.

“I tell you time and time again to tell me what you want and you go to someone else,” he says somewhere between and hiss and a growl. “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course I trust you!” you protest. His nostrils are flaring. He doesn’t believe you. God, how is it possible that he can fuck you harder? He’s never taken you this hard before. “It just—”

“What? It’s just what?” The headboard has come loose and with every thrust, its crashes against the wall.

“Your cock is so big, its almost scary!” You admit honestly. The rage seems to fade away, but the fever in each thrust remains. You are still hot and can barely breathe, but your clit is on fire and you feel the telling pressure between your legs build.

“I’m going to cum!” You see that triumphant glint in his eyes, gorgeous and blue as your pussy tightens and squeezes, milking him and making him weak.

“Damn,” he hisses, clenching his teeth and he stops thrusting in an attempt to stop himself from coming. But your pussy is still pulsing and it clamps around him, stealing his seed and causing his whole body to shake as he releases your leg and collapses on top of you. Despite how incredibly raw and used you are, you can feel the rhythmic throbbing of his cock as he cums and you purposely clamp down hard to coax out more until he is done shaking.

You tap his arm, silently begging him to roll off you because you are dying from heat exhaustion. He rolls to the side and covers his face with his arm, taking deep breaths before grabbing his water bottle and passing it over. You curse the decision to wear the pretty pink dress.

Whatever fury manifested in bed had dissipated and Xavier plays sweetly with your hair. His eyes are gentle and so is his smile. “Next time you feel like trying something new, can it be me first?” His voice is so sweet and you smile as you nod, so glad that he will want you again after this. The way his kisses you is heartening.

Its not long before Xavier is nodding off again and you close the door quietly behind you. You can feel the complete and utter mess in between your thighs as it oozes out of you.

You abandon the search for a room in favor of returning to Sylus’ and taking a much-needed shower.

Its surprising that you are still able to stand. You feel a bit wobbly, but whatever tension you started the day with has been effectively fucked out of you after everyone you care about has made it abundantly clear that they still care and they aren’t leaving.

The hot water is doing wonderful things to your muscles and you sigh, simply enjoying the waterfall feature in Sylus’ shower.

The door opens and shuts behind you and you just know that it’s Sylus finally returning home. You aren’t surprised when he joins you in the shower and his arms circle you, cradling you with a gentleness many would be shocked to know he possessed.

“Mephisto tells me you were busy today, kitten.” Sylus sounds amused and you sigh, leaning backwards into his embrace. How such a dangerous man feels so safe is beyond you, but you have him to thank and curse for so many things.

“Yes, seems like I have a lot of work to do…” You mutter under your breath.

“Seems like you are taking this proposal seriously then.” Sylus presses several kisses with firm pressure in your shoulders and you feel looser and looser as the hot water and his ministrations work their magic.

“I’ve got something for you.” Sylus reveals of all things a butt plug and you whip you head around and look at him like he is crazy. “What? Its not like you didn’t enjoy last night, right?”

“I obviously enjoyed last night,” You hiss. “But its not like I’m some loose, sex crazed fiend—”

“You are the definition of a loose, sex crazed fiend,” Sylus crushes your lips against his. The grip he has on your face is nearly bruising as he pins you to the cold tile wall in his shower. “Mhmm. My slutty little kitten. Did you forget how many cocks you’ve ridden in the past 24 hours?”

He has a point and it infuriates you. “This was YOUR idea you know.”

“And you agreed to it.” He brandishes the butt plug. “Trust me, you should use it. If you enjoyed yourself last night, it should make things better tonight.”

Tonight? “Oh, what’s happening tonight?”

“Whatever you want, sweetie.” There is a naughty tone in his voice and you realize that the potential for the night’s festivities are really all up to you, just like everything that happened today since you entered Zayne’s bedroom.

The images that flash in your head make your heart race. Rafayel kissed you in front of everyone like he wanted to start something right there. Xavier said he wanted your ass and your mouth. Zayne wants you to be a filthy girl for him. Sylus buying the butt plug is more than just a suggestion and it dawns on you that if they all kissed on you at the same time, your brain would surely shut down and you’d let them take you in whatever manner they wanted.

Holy shit, is that what Sylus means by whatever happens tonight?

Sylus brought the lube into the shower with him and you feel him circling your asshole with the tip, waiting for permission to push it in. You find yourself pressing back against it and he pushes in slowly while kissing your temple. There is a brief hint of pain, but nothing like the previous night.

You expect that Sylus would want to take more and you are craving his touch, but instead, he grabs the shampoo, working it into your locks pleasantly. It feels like a scalp massage. You moan as he works his fingers against your scalp and he rinses your hair clean.

“Sylus, why are you doing all of this?” You don’t clarify what you mean, but you mean everything. He spoils you, makes you feel at home, solves the problems that you are afraid to face… and he washes your hair.

Sylus takes your hand in his. “Isn’t it obvious?” His kisses the pad of your index finger.

“I,” he presses his lips against the pad of your middle finger.

“Love,” he kisses your wrist.

“You,” He claims your lips with his own.

Sylus is a bold and fearless man. You suddenly realize why he has never asked about birth control and has never bothered with condoms. If you ever showed up on his door step saying you were pregnant, his next step would be to order Luke and Kieran to grab all the things from your apartment and move them into his base.

Sylus was a man that made quick decisions and wasn’t confused about what he wanted.

A sudden urge to toss your birth control pills into the garbage hits you in the gut.

‘Not during gangbang night!’ You decide, and that makes your head spin. Since when did you decided a gangbang was on the table?!

Gangbang or not, you are in the shower, oozing DNA samples from 3 men. Maybe even 4 if Sylus’ contribution from last night is still in there somewhere. Pregnancy from today’s festivities is an unwelcome complication you don’t want to entertain.

The thought of calling Sylus ‘daddy’ however, is suddenly very enticing.

He didn’t seem to be expecting a response and had already made himself busy with grabbing the shampoo bottle.

“Sylus?”

“Yes, sweetie?” he starts carding conditioner through the end of your locks.

“I love you, too.”

The smile that breaks out across his face radiates joy like the sun radiates light. You’ve never seen him so happy. For the first time, you recognize that this is a real smile, not mired by the harsh reality of his day-to-day life.

Make love to me

Sylus reads your desires. The expressing on his face is one you haven’t seen before and its hard to believe. Was it… insecurity? Perhaps he wanted to see if you were thinking about them.

But how can you possibly think about them when he loves you and he is right here in front of you, baring his heart. He is a dangerous monster.

He is a sweet man.

“Shh, later,” His kisses leaving you wanting so much more but he turns the hot water off and the shower is finished. “You need to save some energy for tonight.”

Its incredibly annoying that ‘tonight’ is supposed to be something big and it involves you, but you still have no idea what is going on. Everyone keeps insisting that whatever happens here is completely up to you and in a huff, you decide that tonight is pizza and movie night, because you are completely done with everyone making moves behind your back.

The guys seem to barely tolerate each other for your sake and they could use the family bonding time, you are sure of it.

You pick out spandex shorts and a fitted short sleeve top, going a completely opposite direction from the pink dress you were wearing earlier. You’d rather be comfortable than cute for the time being.

“So Mephisto told me you were looking for your own room?” Mephisto seems to enjoy tattling on you. Sylus doesn’t seem to be upset, at least.

“About those errands I was running. I was getting some things to set up a more… permanent living situation here.” Sylus’ smile is fox like.

“Sylus… are you asking me to move in with you?” You can’t believe what you’ve heard with your own two ears.

“More like telling you that you aren’t going back home,” Sylus busies himself, styling his hair. “I’ve already emptied your apartment and paid the fee to break your lease.”

“What?!” You aren’t surprised that Sylus would do something like this, but you are furious. “You can’t just do stuff like this without asking my permission.”

He looks at your reflection in the mirror as he combs his hair. You want to smack the smirk right off his face. “It is for your protection, sweetie. At least look at the accommodation I had set up for you before you get mad. Also, your little doctor boyfriend is looking for you.”

Your ears burn for a lot of reasons. Sylus’ gumption and him calling Zayne your ‘little doctor boyfriend,’ standing at the top of the list. Not sure what to do next, you storm out the door with a huff to look for Zayne.

You hear Sylus chuckle as you disappear through the door. “Love you, kitten.”

You blush but you are still mad.

Zayne is sitting in the living room, fingers steadily tapping away at his laptop and you aren’t surprised. He is sitting on the one spot on the couch soaked in a single ray of sun and focused intently on whatever is working on. You sit down next to him and his eyes don’t leave the screen, but he pulls out a few pill bottles and nudges them in your direction.

“What’s this?” You ask. The prescription names all sound foreign and unfamiliar.

Zayne points at the pill bottles in your hand. “This one is for anxiety. I thought you might need something after your panic attack this morning. This one is a muscle relaxer and this is for pain relief.”

He looks at you for the first time since you entered the room and reads the confusion on your face. “Darling, let’s not pretend I don’t know what happened after you left my bedroom. You can put on a brave face and act like a tough hunter, but I know that you must be hurting after all your… activity this afternoon.”

You feel flush and say nothing as he hands you a water bottle to wash down the pills. As you tilt your head back to take a sip, your eyes scan his laptop screen and you see the word ‘resign.’ You can’t believe your eyes and double take as you read the letter in full.

“Zayne, you are quitting your job?!” You shout from sheer disbelief. You see him move the mouse to click send and try to stop him but he is just a fraction of a second faster than you as you shut the laptop.

“I appreciate your concern, but this is very much my decision to make.” He turns to look at you and the smile on his face is very small.

“But… why?” He’s worked his way all the way up the ranks at the hospital. It seemed like a huge waste to throw it away now.

“We need to find a way to separate your Aether Core without taking your life, right? I’m the only one here qualified enough to conduct that research, and Sylus has the facilities I need to proceed. He’s also paying me handsomely if that is what you are worried about.” His arm snakes around your back reassuringly but your head is still spinning.

“Aren’t you worried that the work won’t feel fulfilling?” Your stomach has dropped.

“Working at the hospital never felt fulfilling, darling. The only thing that makes my life feel whole is you,” he whispers, sighing as he pulls you even closer so that his lips can reach yours. You heart pulses violently as you connect with him. It feels wild.

“Do you get it now, kitten?” Sylus is leaning against the wall behind you. How long was he watching you? Zayne doesn’t seem to mind that you were caught kissing, but your blush burns brightly.

“Come on,” Sylus tilts his head towards the opposite hallway. You reluctantly follow him around the corner into a very large room that you know for a fact is a giant gym.

He swings the door open and to your complete and utter shock, the room has been transformed. It’s a combination of cute and luxury. Your plushies and belongings decorate so many flat surfaces. It doesn’t really feel like a bedroom because the space is bigger than your entire apartment. Rafayel and Xavier are waving at you from a plush looking sectional couch. A giant tv is running an old romance movie and behind the sectional—

“What the heck?” You walk towards it in disbelief.

“It’s called an ACE family bed, sweetie.” The bed is 12 feet long and you are certain its wider than your bedroom was at the apartment. Sylus is hovering just a few inches over your shoulder.

“Big enough for you and anyone you invite into your bed.” He makes himself abundantly clear. Its permission for this relationship to go however you damn well please and you are not sure if you can handle the power of this decision.

“So,” Rafayel calls over his shoulder. It was a much-needed distraction. “Movie?” The playfulness in his eyes is inviting and you settle between him and Xavier on the couch. The fact that Zayne and Sylus also take a seat surprises you, but you have the sneaking suspicion they were told to stick around and ‘see how things go.’

But Xavier throws his arms around your shoulder and Rafayel leans into you and traces patterns on your thighs with his fingertips and no one acts bothered by it. Its oddly comforting, even though no one says a peep as the movie plays. The movie is about a woman caught in a complicated love triangle and you laugh internally at the irony of the whole situation.

A gentle knock on the door surprises you and Sylus shouts that its okay to enter. The chef, Luke and Kieran are at the door with refreshments.

“Do you like how your room looks?” Luke asks excitedly.

“We helped decorate!” Kieran shouts. You laugh and nod. You certainly approve and it dawns on you that you are kind of sold on moving into the compound if this what life will be like.

The chef has put together a delightful amuse-bouche of whipped Boursin cheese and smoked salmon in phyllo cups, a charcuterie board and a fruit platter so gorgeous you take a million pictures before you touch it.

The chef has also prepared personalized drinks for each of you. Xavier is drinking something in a tall glass garnished with pineapple. It looks sweet and you steal it to take a sip. It is indeed, very sweet. Cloyingly so as a matter of fact.

Sylus nibbles on a cracker with a cheese you aren’t sure you know how to identify, but it tastes good and well-aged. In his other hand, he swirls his scotch around the giant cylindrical ice cube to chill.

Zayne’s drink of choice is a sophisticated dirty martini and he oozes sex appeal as he sips it. Rafayel practically guzzles down a long island iced-tea, and your certain if he keeps up the pace, he isn’t going to be fun to babysit for the rest of the night.

When the chef first made a Cadillac Sidecar for you, it became an obsession. “With Grand Marnier instead of Cointreau because a lady that can tame a beast like Sylus deserves nothing but the best,” you recall him saying with a proud twinkle in his eye.

You lift the drink to you lips and relish the hint of a burn balanced with a little sweet and a little sour. Half of your glass is gone in a blink of an eye.

If you stayed, life most certainly would be like this and its growing on you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that Sylus has your phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Sending the hunter’s association your resignation letter.” Sylus is not a kidder and you jump to grab your phone just in time.

“You can’t just—” Sylus shoves the amuse bouche in your mouth and its delightful. Bribery actually might work.

Still, you huff indignantly and down the rest of your sidecar. Like magic, another one appears and you down it as well. A third one appears and they are so delicious, you don’t really think about the over indulgence as you lift it to your lips.

“Kitten, just enough to loosen up a bit. Not so much that you wake up with regret,” Sylus urges and the others are all looking at you. He is right. You are standing at the precipice of a slippery slope and its important to tread lightly.

Its maybe 10 or 15 minutes before the alcohol starts to work and you shift a bit uncomfortably as you become acutely aware that you are still wearing the butt plug. You rise a little too rapidly and feel your world spin a little bit.

“Where are you going?” Rafayel asks.

“Bathroom,” You squeak. Sylus points at a door you didn’t see because the room really is that huge. The bathroom is big and gorgeous, but you are hardly paying attention as you remove the butt plug, wash it in the sink and wrap it in a hand towel to hide it in a drawer.

You wonder if one or all of them were planning to make a move tonight and you take a few moments to center yourself before you walk back out. ‘I’m in control of what happens here,’ You remind yourself. Nothing happens if you don’t want it to.

You get comfortable again in between Rafayel and Xavier and they drape themselves over you just like they were before. The food has disappeared and been cleared away and you’ve nursed your third sidecar through the entire movie. The teasing Rafayel is doing with his fingertips is having an effect on you and Xavier gently starts to kiss your temple making your breath hitch.

You feel a gentle tug on your chin and you turn your head to face Xavier.

“Is this okay?” He asks. He doesn’t exactly clarify what ‘this’ is, but you nod, because you find yourself curious about what more would feel like.

It quickly feels like you are drowning, even though the kiss Xavier places on your lips is gentle because everyone is looking. You can feel their gaze burn holes in you and he deepens the kiss, tongue dancing sensually with yours when the fingertips that Rafayel was using to trace your thigh grip you tightly. It seems your hand behaves independently from your brain and you grip Rafayel’s shirt, pulling him in closer so that when your lips leave Xavier, you can taste his.

Both Xavier and Rafayel are moving now, pressing gentle kisses to your neck and you can’t breathe. Rafayel gently tugs at the hem of your shirt and you aren’t sure when you nodded, but the shirt is gone. You hadn’t put on a bra and immediately, Xavier is kneeling on the floor in front of you, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking as he cups both breasts firmly with a strong grip. Rafayel claimed your lips with his own, kissing you deeply, and your tongues swirl as you let out a deep, loud moan.

“Interesting…” You hear Sylus chuckle in the background and you wonder briefly if he is planning to join you on this side of the couch.

Xavier tugs on your shorts and waits for permission. When its granted, he takes it off along with your panties and you suddenly feel very expose.

You tug at both Rafayel’s and Xavier’s shirts and they are gone on command. One of your hands caresses Rafayel’s cock through his pants and you hear him hiss as your other hand threads itself in Xavier’s hair.

You finally feel brave enough to look over at Sylus and Zayne who are swirling their drinks and staring right back at you. Zayne’s eye contact is intense and he looks hungry. Sylus’ eye is glowing red.

You silently beckon them over with your hand just as Xavier is moving you to the large cushioned ottoman in the center of the couch and four sets of lips descend upon you to feast on your body.

It feels like heaven and hell as their kisses are bliss, but you ache for more and answering your prayers is Zayne, who has settled between your knees, kissing your inner thighs as he introduces his fingers to your opening. You make eye contact with him as he slips them inside and begins to pump and as soon as he does, you throw your head back and your body arches into the kisses of everyone you love. Your moans are making everyone respond.

You decide everyone is wearing too much clothing and you beg them to take them off. The sound of fabric hitting the floor surrounds you and its pleasantly overwhelming when 4 beautiful bodies loom over you, ready for more.

How do you want to proceed, kitten?” Sylus asks. “Do you want us to take turns or—” Curse that glowing eye.

I want to be fucked in all three holes at once.

“Oh?” The amusement in his voice irritates you. “Most people want to work up to that.”

“Work up to what?” The other three ask at the same time.

His eye glows ever brighter as his gaze flicks to the three other men in the room. It dawns on you that his power also works on them. At least you aren’t alone anymore in this plight.

“Hm? Only exactly the things that you want to do to her right now.” Sylus tosses the lube on the ottoman. “So, the question is, who is batting first?”

Three hands shoot up in the air for a quick paper, scissors, rock game and you laugh at the absurdity.

“First times are always a little awkward, sweetie,” Sylus teases.

“Yeah, I got that,” You scoff. “I notice your hand didn’t go up.”

“I’m content to watch for a little while and make sure you are okay.”

“How noble of you,” you tease when you are lifted off the ottoman by Zayne. An order has been decided it seems and Zayne lays back on the ottoman, guiding you on top. You tremble as things start to get very real very fast. Xavier pats your shoulder reassuringly as the head of Zayne’s cock catches your entrance and begins to slide in.

“Are you okay, baby?” Zayne asks and you nod.

“Just nervous,” You admit and you see the alarm in his eyes.

“If you want to stop, we can. We don’t need to do this right now… or at all.” His hands are warm and they rub your sides.

“No, I really want this.” You lower yourself onto his cock and his hands continue to rub your sides as Xavier lubes his cock up while standing at your side. Your eyes widen when you realize that it’s him that is about to enter your asshole with his giant horse cock.

Zayne distracts you for a moment as he rocks his hips forwards experimentally thrusting to see your reactions and its favorable as you moan, collapsing on his chest and making beautiful noises in his ear.

Its in that moment that you feel the tip of Xavier’s cock circle your asshole.

“Honey, is it okay if we give this a shot?” You are shaking once more but manage to barely squeak out a yes and you feel him enter very cautiously, giving you plenty of time to back out if you wanted to.

But damn, what was happening to you was a different kind of fullness and pressure and when Zayne experimentally moves his hips, the moans you utter fill the room and its all the encouragement Xavier and Zayne need to move their hips in alternating paces.

Zayne’s hands grip your breasts so tightly it hurts in a good way as his teeth nip at your lips. The expression on his face is bliss and disbelief.

“FUCK!” It’s the first time you’ve ever heard Zayne curse and the noises coming from Xavier are very telling as well.

“Goddamn, honey! Your asshole is so tight!” Xavier mutters and he sounds so incredibly weak and far away.

“Go ahead, she wants it,” You hear Sylus’ voice and suddenly remember that he is there. When you turn your head, you see him sitting on the couch staring intently at you, red eye still glowing as he strokes his cock provocatively and it adds to your fever. You have no voice to speak, but Rafayel’s cock appears in your face and you desperately want to please your beautiful Lemurian husband. You try to take it into your mouth, but Xavier’s thrusts are powerful and you bob too much to claim it. Its all so overwhelming, but if he could just grip your head…

“Beautiful, its okay. You don’t have to push yourself,” Rafayel assures you.

“But she wants you to force yourself on her,” Sylus says and he knows he is right.

You see the glimmer in Rafayel’s eye as Sylus instructs him to grip your hair and tilt your head back.

Use me

Sylus is reading you again but it doesn’t matter because Rafayel who has always been too afraid he might hurt you is being bold. With two fistfuls of hair, he tilts your head back and enters, his cock slipping down your throat. He thrusts experimentally, and when you pull him forward with one hand, he goes wild, bucking down your throat.

“Holy shit! This is so fucking hot!” He shouts as he holds your head steady and the screaming each thrust from Xavier’s hips elicits from your lungs vibrates around his cock.

Zayne has barely moved and you don’t know why but you clench his hair and his hips crack with force as you do.

Its all way too much and you cum hard, thrashing wildly with your mouthful. Everyone slows down their thrusting briefly so that you can catch your breath before they resume.

“Are you okay, baby?” Zayne murmurs in your ear and you nod slightly, head still in Rafayel’s grip.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” Xavier is the first to succumb, emptying himself inside your asshole and barely holding on as Zayne seemed to thrust insanely harder as he came. Rafayel pulls out of your mouth and preps himself with lube as Xavier pulls out and takes two steps before collapsing on wobbly legs.

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum so fast in my life,” Xavier utters in astonishment. He kneels on the floor, gripping the couch in an attempt to catch his breath as Rafayel gets into position, entering your asshole in one smooth motion. Zayne is still bucking wildly and Rafayel’s smooth entrance has triggered the beginning of another orgasm and your cries become more fevered as you cum, making Zayne hiss below you. His hips come to a complete halt, but Rafayel fucks you through the entirety of your climax and its more than enough. When it seems you have come down from your high, Zayne’s hips move once more and its clear he is only trying to delay his own demise.

Your gaze falls on Sylus once more and he is still stroking his cock and staring at you. If you weren’t completely overwhelmed, you’d claim that beautiful cock attached to that beautiful man in a heartbeat.

He doesn’t need to read you to know what you desire in this very moment and he rises, for the first time since his lips taste your body he moves. He kneels next to your body, kissing your shoulder.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” He asks everyone in the room. You see Zayne nod before he grips your hair and pulls your lips to his and you feel Rafayel’s grip on your waist tighten in response.

“I couldn’t capture how gorgeous this moment is with paint even if I tried,” Rafayel practically sings.

Sylus’ cock appears in your face and he expertly grips you with no hesitation. Its easy for him to find the right angle so as not to hit the back of your throat. He fucks hard in ten second bursts before pulling back so that you can breathe before starting the process all over and in the middle of it all, Zayne is signaling that he is about to cum.

Zayne yank’s you off Sylus’s cock. When he comes, your lips belong to him and he reminds you of it in this moment. You feel his cock expand inside you oh so satisfyingly. He grunts and buries himself in you desperately and this is how he chooses to say ‘I love you’ without words.

“Let’s hit the reset button here for a second,” Sylus says. You aren’t sure what that means, but you have to get up and let Zayne escape to recover. He rolls off the ottoman and crawls to the nearest water bottle and Sylus is holding you in his arms, motioning for Rafayel to lay back on the couch instead. Its just the three of you now and thank God for that because you aren’t sure you can hold out much longer. If it weren’t for Sylus’ strong grip, you are sure you’d collapse.

“C’mere, beautiful,” Rafayel beckons, but it isn’t’ like you are capable of making that happen on your own. Sylus gently lowers you in place and you feel Rafayel use his hand to guide his cock back inside your used asshole. Rafayel kisses your neck sweetly in anticipation as Sylus gets into position.

Sylus decided that the best way to move forward was by propping your legs up on his shoulders like Rafayel didn’t exist underneath you. He guides his cock into place and begins pounding your body into Rafayel’s.

“Holy fucking shit!” Rafayel shout’s and you’d echo the sentiment if you could but Sylus is destroying your pussy so effectively.

Your orgasms build one after another and you are certain you’ve lost count as the powerful thrusting continues without pause. Watching you get devoured by the others did something to this man and the zeal with which he takes you is unlike anything you’ve ever received from him before.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!” Rafayel confesses in your ear and it is so much cum filling you so noticeably its insane. With each throbbing rope he releases, his thrusts deepen until he can’t take it anymore.

Sylus still isn’t done and he lifts you off Rafayel, carrying you to the nearest wall and fucking you against it. You can’t breathe as he presses your back firmly into it. You can’t hide. You can’t escape. You are at Sylus’s mercy and you hear the rapid fire of his hips slapping against yours. So much cum oozes out of you as he continues taking your body.

“Kitten?”

“Sylus!” It’s the first thing you’ve said since Zayne’s cock first entered you.

“Are you ready for me to cum in you?”

“Fuck yes!” You shout and you feel his body tremble followed by his cock and its always so incredibly satisfying to feel their cocks quake inside you as they release.

You are fading fast, doomed to collapse into a puddle of nothing now that all of this is over. You barely register how many hands clean you up and dress you.

Zayne says that he is going to give you a shot for the pain you might be experiencing but his voice sounds so very far away as you drift to sleep.

The morning song birds are chirping when you are woken by two sets of lips exploring your body and your panties being removed. Sylus has your phone and he announced that he’s just quit you job for you.

“Are we taking turns? Or doing this all at the same time like last night?” You hear Xavier ask.

Just run a train on me already!

Sylus and the fucking direct, sinister, enrapturing, infuriating eye that has been the key to giving you everything you never thought you’d want.

Today he claims your body first. The rest follow suit, passing you around like a goddamn party favor.

You decide that you don’t need a job so long as these four beautiful, loving amazing men can have you any way your heart desires.

[3fingersofscotch]

🥵🤤

Crédits artist @Lysbx1031

[3fingersofscotch]

Hi! I absolutely love your works – they touch my soul in the most beautiful way! ❤️ Especially your fic "Blood and Ink" – it left me speechless!

Would you be okay with me translating it for Russian fans of LaD?🙏🏻 Of course, I’ll give you full credit as the author and link back to the original work on AO3. The translation would be posted on ficbook.net (a popular Russian fanfic site).

P.S. I’m the same person who left a comment on AO3! ☺️

Thank you for considering!

Hello! Thank you for asking so politely. I currently have a rule where my works are not permitted to be translated. I will let you know if I change my mind!

[3fingersofscotch]

Hidden Nature

Summary: Dragon!Sylus sprouts horns and a tail in the middle of a raid.

He tries to push you away for your own safety. You show him the place he belongs is in between your legs.

That's it. That's the fic.

Some spicy NSFW audio to get in the mood. Wear headphone.

Ao3: 3fingers_of_scotch

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Monsterfucking, two cocks, mating biting, mating frenzy, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, angst, porn with plot and feelings, mating bond, rough sex, WIP

Dodge, shield her, resonate, punch. He watches her from the corner of his eye.

When she moves, it’s breathtaking.

Moving deeper with Kieran and Luke flanking both sides. They wouldn’t miss this for the world. She can resonate with everyone now and she does it like its second nature, bolstering her team’s powers and sensing danger as it approaches.

A sense of satisfaction bathes over Sylus at the progress made in the last year—not just in battle chemistry. In everything.

Everything. In her strength. In the way that she spoke to him, responded to his touch, looked at him.

A chill runs down his spine as he recalls the way she stared daggers at him while on her knees. The monster that she had automatically assumed he would be their first meeting is certainly not the way she feels about him now.

Watching her fly with the hint of a smile on his lips, he reflects on the taste of hers—on how she feels when she glides against him. She is soft in the morning stirring in his arms. But today, he stares at her back. In battle, she is fierce.

His Kitten.

She destroys Ever effortlessly, calling out to Luke and Kieran like they are little brothers and not the absolute fiends that Ever turned them into. This is it, they confirm. This is the facility they were locked in and experimented on.

Here amid chaos, Sylus cannot think of a time he has been happier across the lifetimes he has lived, taking down enemies with his found family and her-- his love, floating like a butterfly as she destroys everything around her.

He dares to hope secretly that this life will be different. It will not end in pain.

The dragon is quiet.

He fears the relief that he feels, but it is there regardless. He has loved her, passionately. He has held her tightly in his arms and there was no threat of death, no fated sword, no urge to consume or kill.

The dragon frenzy remained quiet.

Maybe in this life there was no prophecy. Maybe they aren’t star crossed lovers.

Maybe they can be happy.

Destroying Ever feels much like tearing down the judicators’ temples and the fleeting memories of love fluttering in his dragon heart make him flutter still.

She is starting to remember too. The memories that come back first are the most painful. She woke up with tears in her eyes one morning and whispered, “My dragon is gone?”

That morning, he held her in his arms and let her cry as she sorted the memories of a past life and consolidated it with her current. The realization that their souls were indeed bound, eating at her conscious for days.

But the love was potent, and she improved merely by being in his presence. He was the calm to her storm.

And now, she is inching ever closer to the powerful sorceress she once was. The people that flee in her wake almost look like the judicators that kept coming for them. In a way, the sins that they committed against her are not much different and for a second, it feels like there are still wings on his back, carrying him through vast halls.

She is fire. He is wind, and he stokes her embers into raging wild fires.

They keep children in cages like animals. Each and every child appears hollow. Luke and Kieran see themselves in the children and they rage, ripping open cages and taking the lives of all that are complicit in this sick experiment.

Something is wrong.

Something is wrong with her.

She stares with wild eyes at the cages. Fury radiates in waves from her body and her evol flares.

Rage.

It shakes the very ground they stand on. It shakes the building they stand in. The children are rushed away. She cannot be contained as she screams her rage.

“Caleb… He was kept here. Which… which means… I was kept there.”

She is power.

Legend says that after Sylus passed, she was the fiercest dragon to have ever darkened the skies of Philos and in this moment, Sylus believes it.

The kids are safe now, in the care of Luke and Kieran and Sylus stays to watch with pride as she shakes the building until it comes crashing down. Her rage does not discriminate as Ever employees beg for mercy.

“I have a family!” many cry, but so did the children they stole and it will not stop vengeance.

‘You remind me of a young dragon who has yet to sprout its horns.’ He once told her before she realized what she was.

She was a hatchling, left abandoned by a frenzied dragon who destroyed her mate.

The myths spun through time forget to remind you that dragons are beasts.

Her frenzy energy in this moment is not unlike a dragon. It does something to an ancient part of him. A piece of power-lust sparks that he’d buried a lifetime ago. Dragons are attracted to power. They collect powerful things like shiny baubles and trinkets and an animalistic urge to claim her comes from nowhere.

Sylus… he isn’t a dragon. Not anymore.

He can’t be a dragon.

He does not want to be a dragon.

In this life he is sure of it. He held her in his arms. Kissed her with his lips. Loved her with his heart and body. In this life, he is not a dragon. He should not want her the way a dragon would.

She deserves better than a dragon.

But here with her full might untethered and on display, the deep rumble of a beast he thought he was rid of purrs and makes its unwelcome presence known. It started with horns in the last life and he frantically runs fingers through his hair as he feels the horns breach his skin, his blood running down his skin as they grow out, slowly and painfully.

She can’t see this.

She deserves better than a dragon.

So he runs without a word. In his experience, being a dragon only leads to demise.

***

It’s too much.

The memories that invade your mind in confusing flashes make you sick. The only thing louder than confusion is rage. So many things happen in your head at once. You silently demand answers. You feel deep sorrow realizing you’ve lost your childhood.

They locked you in cages like an animal.

Tears flow freely as your gaze falls on the exact cage they kept you in and the memory of Caleb’s tiny hand reaching through the bars to hold your own breaks you.

Fucking animals. All of them.

And there isn’t time to process your feelings because the people that are working there now are the same people that hurt you back then.

… The same people that hurt you back then.

The images in your head conjure the memory of a younger Josephine pointing a gun at your head and pulling the trigger just because they said you’d revive. You read about it in the files she left after her passing but seeing it in your head?

You called her grandma for how many years?

The pleas for mercy fall on death ears. They have families? Well, where did you come from then? Did you fall out of the fucking sky and into the laps of these predators? Did the rest of the children appear in the cages spontaneously?

Fuck them all.

The only thing that matters is that the children are out safely and once they are, you are tearing the whole fucking building down. You don’t even know how. But in this moment, somehow, you just know that you can.

You’re world spins. Every tiny hair on your body stands as you sense everything around you. You pick up every pulse, the rodents scurrying in walls, the insects crawling along the floor. You feel everything.

The blood trickling down your nose should bother you, but the power of it floods your senses and the building falls apart around you. The only thing that matters is that this building comes down.

Even in your rage, you can sense Sylus’s presence at your back. You can feel his revelry, perhaps even pride as you shake the building apart.

And that is how you know that something turned his joy into despair. You feel every desperate footprint as he runs away and your heart breaks. You can’t turn your head. You can’t call his name. You can only make sure his path is safe as he leaves you.

This building must come down.

For the sake of children just like you, you stay and it breaks you, tears flowing freely down your face as the man you love leaves you.

But you will wipe Ever off the face of the earth tonight even as you command your feet not to run after your heart’s desire. Hot, angry tears pour down your cheeks as you feel the heartbeats of Ever employees snuff out everywhere.

Ever dies tonight.

With every fiber of your being, you believe that Sylus will let you find him when he is ready.

***

Everything hurts. It is only sheer force of will that pulls you onto your motorcycle and in the direction of Sylus’s nearest safe house, where surely you will find him. Text messages, phone calls, no responses and you are desperate, operating on sheer panic as you try to locate him.

Sylus is supposed to fear nothing.

Your heart hurts as your mind races. What could possibly make Sylus run? Deep down, in the memories that have yet to surface, you know the answer.

Sylus fears hurting you. He’d take his own life before risking your own. You know this. Finally, heart breaking for him once more.

My dragon is gone…

His safe house is empty and so is the pit of your stomach, but the thought occurs to you.

He may be hiding from you, but what about Luke and Kieran?

You pull out your phone and find group chat labeled “The Three Stooges.”

-Where is big guy at?-

Your phone pings almost instantly.

Luke: Not supposed to tell you…

Kieran: He just went to provide temporary shelter for the kids at a safehouse. We are taking the kids for pancakes nearby.

Luke: Yeah. NEARBY. NEARBY the safehouse. The safehouse that we will keep the kids at. The safehouse that is near the pancake place we are at. The fluffy pancake place that you took us to that one time when boss thought we were stuck in traffic. THAT pancake place.

Kieran -Okay. I think she gets it.

Luke -DO YOU GET IT?

You most certainly got the message and you can’t help the grin on your face. By the gods you loved them. Now, you could find him.

Whatever was going on, you won’t let him handle it alone.

Your persistent knock at the door is answered by twins who are completely unsurprised to see you.

“Oh… how did you find us?” Luke asks playfully.

“Boss definitely isn’t here and he definitely… definitely isn’t in the private suite upstairs sulking,” Kieran adds casually shrugging.

You wink as they make space for you to enter.

“Oh no, she forced her way past us… what do we do?” You hear Luke say, calling after you in mock defeat.

They earn a small smile even as you worry, rushing, preparing yourself for whatever you might encounter. You were not going to let him go through this alone.

You can feel your heart beating violently through your chest as you approach the door and test the handle. Locked of course, but you can hear the subtle shuffle of Sylus’s moving body just beyond the door.

“Sylus, let me in,” you plea.

You can hear a labored sigh through the door. “Honestly, Kitten? I don’t want to.”

“Hey. Don’t… push me away. Open the door.” You say gently, resting your head against the door frame and waiting with as much patience as you can muster in silence as the door remains closed. The seconds tick by and just a few minutes later, you try once more.

“Sylus… please.”

The door doesn’t open, but you can see the shadow under the door and hear the slightly heavy breath that sounded a bit like panic.

“You know, I could just break this door down.” The separation pains you greatly, and all you want to do is hold him-- to know what clouds his heart. You need to know what would make him run from you. Maybe this wasn’t the best approach, but you need to hold him and tell him everything will be okay.

“The thought occurred to me as well. Though I hoped you wouldn’t realize you could.”

You laugh, soft but still leaning against the door frame. “Wishful thinking…”

You hear the door knob unlock and twist slowly and his presence looms, somehow even taller than before, his shoulders broader. And when you finally tilt your head up from his chest--.

“My dragon is back?” Your hand acts on its own, reaching up to caress his freshly sprouted horns as you register the incredulous look on his face. You can see him war with a thousand conflicting emotions, hands almost shaking.

He pulls you into a sudden and tight embrace, releasing a shuddering sigh.

“I don’t know what to think.” He holds you so close with your face pressed against his neck. You can feel the rumble in his voice as his throat bobs against your cheek. “I don’t know how to feel.”

And of course, your mind races too. A million questions try to force their way out of your lips. The memories you’d long since forgotten from a past life surge into your brain. Where did the horns come from and why are they here?

Your lips fall open but no sound comes out until you step on a long black tail you didn’t know existed and you yelp as the two of you fall back against the bed.

“I’m so sorry, Sylus! I didn’t know you had a...” you look down in shock as it moves flicking not unlike an irritated cat’s tail.

“A tail. I have a tail… and horns.” Sylus looks pained as he sighs once more revealing teeth that appeared a fraction sharper than they did before.

“Oh. Is that what those are?” You ask teasingly earning a small huff. The tension is still palpable, but Sylus’s grimace relaxes just a fraction and your hands move on instinct, knuckles brushing against his cheek as you observe the broken skin around his freshly erupted horns.

“Does it hurt?” You ask as your fingers move to trace the base of the horns and he winces slightly.

“Not as much as before.”

His arms tighten around you and you curb your curiosity to put him at ease as you kiss across his forehead and your fingers trace soothing patterns across his chest. But 5 minutes pass. 5 minutes turn into 10. The questions scream louder and louder in your head and he still holds you tightly like an anchor.

“Sylus… you didn’t know you could turn into a dragon?”

A long sigh leaves his lips. He has been sighing a lot today and it’s not like you can blame him.

“No kitten. I didn’t know that I’m a dragon. Not in this life.” The grip he has on your body grows impossibly tighter. “I didn’t know then either. Not until my horns sprouted.”

“How did you not know you were a dragon?” You shift so that you can look at his face and his expression is still pained. You watch his Adams apple bob as he swallows instinctively, like the memory left a bad taste in his mouth.

“I lived amongst dragons, but I never knew my parents. I looked human, so I thought I was human. I visited human villages. Made human friends, tried to have a human life. When my horns grew in, I panicked and tried to cut them off.

Life only got worse from there. The people I grew fond of shunned and even attacked me. I was an enemy on sight. I got imprisoned in a chasm for over 1,000 years. Being a dragon… brought me nothing but pain. Brought us nothing but pain.”

“Us?” Sylus’s eyes grow soft and sad as he lifts your fingers to his lips, kissing them gently.

“Yes, us. You didn’t know you were a dragon either.”

You’d spent a lot of time angry that it always seemed like Sylus was hiding things from you. For such a direct and forward communicator, it was always suspicious when he started talking in riddles or avoiding topics. It was increasingly frustrating to have memories slowly come back and wonder why he still wouldn’t just spell out the details of your past life.

But here in this moment as you take in his pained expression, it dawns on you that he couldn’t talk about it because it hurt to remember the details that mattered. And knowing how it ended, you feel guilty for being mad at him in the first place.

He is a man that will give you anything.

The memory of him throwing himself on a sword to protect your life reminds you that he will throw everything away for your sake as well.

Your dragon would protect you from even himself.

“Sylus? If you didn’t know that you were a dragon, does that mean I could be one too and just sprout horns one day?” You ask, the thought sudden and urgent leaves your lips.

“I don’t know, kitten. And if I’m honest, I can’t decide whether or not I’d be relieved or sad if you sprouted horns. I don’t want you to suffer the pain of being a dragon. But I also…” he sighs once more, this time sounding more agitated as he pinches the bridge of his nose and sits up abruptly.

You sit up with him, gently kissing his shoulder and brushing his hair away from his horns.

“Kitten… dragons can live a very long time. And if I outlive you, I…” He didn’t need to finish that sentence. You can’t stand the thought either.

“Well, I hope I sprout horns then. We can be a couple of freaks together.” You watch as the corner of his lips turn up slightly.

“I don’t know how I should feel about that. All I know is that I don’t want you to get hurt.” He squeezes your hand tightly.

“All I know as that I need you.” You squeeze his hand even tighter. “And I need you to be happy.”

A pregnant silence falls over the two of you before you eyeball him curiously.

“Aren’t you supposed to have wings?”

Sylus looks at you and huffs softly. “They come out when I need them. And I can shift into my dragon form at command.”

The look you give him is nothing short of bewildered. “O-okay? Any other crazy changes I should know about?”

He suddenly begins to avoid your gaze.

“Sylus?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Two cocks,” He mumbles quietly.

You blink. “Come again?”

Sylus hangs his head in his hands. “Two cocks,’ you can hear him say a little louder into his palms and your brain explodes.

“What? So, I am supposed to… grow two vaginas if I become a dragon?” The sheer absurdity of your question makes Sylus bark with unexpected laughter and he shakes his head.

“No… no kitten. It’s not like that. I… have a main cock and I have what I guess you could describe as an auxiliary cock. Its thinner and… prehensile. Like my tail.”

You must be looking at him like he has grown a second head. “None of that sentence made any sense to me. What is an auxiliary cock even for?”

“I honestly… don’t really know much.”

You can’t help but look at him funny once more. “You mean to tell me in a past life, you had two cocks for more than a thousand years and you didn’t know what to do with one of them? What did you do when you fooled around with someone?”

Sylus scoffs, tail flicking with agitation. “First of all, it’s not like I got Dragon Sex Ed. Second, I never fooled around with anyone.”

“You… never fooled around with anyone?” You cover your face with your hands in shock.

He shrugs defeatedly. “Who’d want to love a fiend? You were the only one that didn’t look at me like I was some kind of freak and every time you and I would get close and try to touch each other, I’d almost die.”

Right. A brief mental image of a weapon that would literally come out of your body to pierce him makes you grimace.

Sylus paces the room a bit, trying to find the right words. “Look… I know that dragons scent marked their mates with it. It also releases chemicals that heighten pleasure and improve fertility. I never tried it. There is no love for a fiend.”

“I love you.” Sylus whips around, eyes wide. The words left you so naturally, you almost forgot that you’ve never said it in this lifetime. When you remember, you blush. But you do love him, and you wish you could take his pain away but you can’t. All you can do is tell him how you feel.

“I love you, Sylus. I’m not just going to disappear because you sprouted horns and an extra cock.” You lean in to kiss him but he pulls back, shaking his head.

“You can’t. This… this will only end in pain.”

“What? What is it, Sylus? Is it the sword? You and I have been intimate before and nothing happened. We are still alive.”

Sylus shakes his head. “You don’t get it and it’s hard to explain.” He resumes his pacing.

“You and I… we didn’t know our parents and we thought we were humans because we looked human. And that’s because we probably were at least part human. Humans and dragons… they could cross breed. If a human male mates with a dragon female, she lays an egg and it’s called a hatchling. If a male dragon mates with a human female, she can give live birth to a dragonlet. But there is one problem.”

Sylus pauses and shudders. “Dragons are beasts. I’m a beast. Intelligent sure. We can think and talk like people. But mating causes dragons to frenzy and rational thought goes out the window. Most dragons will attempt to kill their mates during a frenzy. Our parents--,” his eyes glaze over as his expression becomes grimmer. His tail whips back and forth narrowly missing the furniture around him.

“We probably came from human males and dragon females. Our mothers killed our fathers, laid us as eggs and then went mad upon finding out they murdered their mates and left us abandoned. I got taken in by dragons. You got taken by the Judicators and groomed to be a weapon.”

“Sylus, I’m not going to let you push me away.” You grab his hand and try to pull him towards you, but his tail wraps around you and keeps you at arm’s length. For the first time, you break. The calm façade you wore to lull him to ease chips away and your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears and your voice faulters as you struggle to speak without screaming.

“Do you think… do you think life will just go on for me if you push me away?” The tears start to fall one by one, and they feel hot as they roll down your cheeks. “Do you think that my life doesn’t end in this room if you leave?”

For a moment, it seems like his resolve won’t crumble. His face is stone as your lips start to quiver.

“You are my dragon. Mine. For the first time in my life my path feels clear. If you leave, life will be as pointless for me as the wanderers I kill.”

His resolve breaks like a dam and he pulls you close to breathe you in. He gently wipes away the tears to soothe you, but the damage is done and you choke on your sobs as he rocks you, whispering his regret in your ear and burying his nose in your hair.

“I can’t see this ending well,” he whispers even as he cradles you lovingly.

“Tell me you don’t love me and I will let you go,” you murmur through labored breath into his chest. “Tell me there is nothing in your heart for me and I’ll never bother you again.”

You hear Sylus scoff gently as he squeezes you. “You would never believe such a blatant lie. Not when I’m so abundantly greedy for you. Not when it is so obvious how much I love you.”

Your stomach does somersaults as the honied words leave his lips and he presses

desperate kisses across your temple.

Its not enough to simply say I love you to a man that has crossed space and time to find you but you say it regardless, over and over again in between kisses that grow hotter as he grips your face and holds you against his lips. And he repeats it back earnestly, desperately, even as he protests that, “We can’t” or “We should stop.”

But he is the one holding you in place and peppering you with hard kisses. His hands clench tightly in your hair as his tail pulls your body flush against his.

“I love you,” he whispers once more as he picks you up and pins you to the wall effortlessly, hips rolling against yours. He suffocates you, lips devouring yours, tongue invading your mouth when you gasp. His bulge is noticeably bigger, a reminder that his body has changed and a challenge awaits you.

“We can’t. It’s dangerous,” he repeats once more, but his hips roll harder into yours, bulge grinding your clit through your pants. Ragged breathing fills the room as hot breath warms your collar.

Maybe you should slow things down and take a second to breathe, but he doesn’t relent. He is acclimated to your body and presses all the buttons that erase your will to resist. And with your lips unencumbered, he drags the delicious moans he loves to hear from you into the open air as he bites firmly on your pulse point impatiently. His teeth feel sharper on your skin and his tail introduces a new sinful pressure you never knew you’d love.

“I can handle it…” you huff, clawing at the shirt separating him from you as his tail creeps up the fabric of your own. “If it is you, I can take it.”

The growl your words elicit make you jump because he sounds like a beast and it vibrates in your eardrums. It is a warning you should heed, but a part of you that thrives in the face of danger purrs unexpectantly and you are wetter than you’ve ever been.

“Don’t do that, sweetie. Don’t give me permission.” His words fail to match his actions as he pulls your shirt, pinning you higher on the wall as he kisses your breasts while unhooking your bra and tossing it to the other side of the room. He relents, finally lifting his arms so that you can rid him of the shirt you’ve been clawing at.

The relief you feel as his skin connects with your own is short lived as it only gets hotter. The frenzied grind of Sylus’s bulge against your clit interrupts any attempt at thought as the red-hot sensation of lightning makes your pelvis ache with pleasure. Sylus has always been a passionate lover, but the way he ruts against you in this moment is mindless and animalistic. Alarm bells should scream but your clit feels so good and your desire leaks from you. The dampness in between your legs is copious and uncomfortable and you haven’t even taken your pants off yet.

“Sylus, please!” You gasp, wanting. “Bed!”

He tosses you on the bed, eyeing you like his last meal and you try and relieve some discomfort, hands shaking as you unzip your pants and push them off your hips.

You are free finally completely bare for him and visually leaking, but a sobering thought settles over both of you.

Sylus has two cocks.

You stare at each other in a brief moment of silence as you see the enormous bulge in his pants. Curiosity rises to screaming, morbid levels and if he doesn’t take his pants off, you will do it for him.

“Are you sure that you are ready for this?” He asks and you internally shout that you just need to see it, but you nod your head, refusing to let him see your panic.

“Take it off.”

And he does, slowly—almost timidly, but Sylus doesn’t do timid. When his pants are finally off, you stare, head cocked to the side. He hasn’t just grown a second cock.

“Its… bigger.” He was already well endowed. The main shaft is now perhaps an inch longer and a bit girthier. And the second cock? Sprouted right above the first. And yes, it was thinner, but it was long… at least 10 inches long and flexible, moving like it had a mind of its own.

“You still have time to back out of this,” he murmurs, but even as your mind screams that you don’t know what to do with two dicks, you are already reaching out to him. You need his body desperately on top of yours, to re-center him with you. As he tentatively drapes his body over yours, you quiver as your thoughts race.

He is different, and yet, still your Sylus. And you want him, all forms of him, to have and to love. You silence the voices in your head and focus on his lips-- on the taste, on the way they hesitate before moving against your own.

Surrender occurs in tandem as his sexes press flush against your own and he feels you, warm and abundantly wet. Your moan rings high pitched as his groan sinks low and he reaches for his cocks, making your stomach jump into your throat as he guides himself to your core.

But his main cockhead teases your opening as he smears your wetness with it. Delicious pressure makes you mewl as he rubs that cockhead up and down your clit and you pull him into a hungry kiss.

“Sylus. Baby, please,” you protest and he takes his cock and smacks it against your clit—something he has never dared to do and it is thrilling as little jolts of lightning and pleasure radiate, making your knees jerk. He teases you, reveling in the sounds he elicits with each smack.

You protest, whining indignantly and for a moment, it seems he might relent. He guides his cock, teasing your entrance and you whimper, practically begging for it when he pulls back and slaps your clit again.

The tap tap taps are audible and so are your whines of protest when he whispers in your ear. Tail securing around your ankle to pull you into position by wrapping your leg around his back.

“Tell me to stop, sweetie,” he offers and it is one last chance to back out as he searches you for doubt.

“Never.”

A broken gasp falls from his lips as you feel something jump against your navel and he grabs your chin, pulling it up and to the side to expose your neck.

“Then say that you are mine. Not just now but always,” he growls low in your ear and you moan as his teeth graze the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“Of course I’m yours,” you breathe and satisfaction vibrates in his chest before his teeth latch around your pulse point. The rumble continues as your hands clutch his hair just behind his horns and he holds you firmly in place under his teeth.

An alien sensation creeps up your thigh and slips inside you and your eyes widen as you gasp and realize that it is his auxiliary cock, prehensile and moving on its own.

Sylus trembles, blanking out for a moment as the cock fully seats itself inside you and you feel pressure in your navel as something is released. A strangely sweet flavor invades the back of your mouth before filling your nostrils, and it dawns on you—he's scent-marking you, releasing chemicals to assert his claim and heighten your pleasure.

Perhaps it is already working because his teeth latch harder than they ever have before, sharp canines breaking skin. And it should hurt, but you moan with great pleasure, body starting to roll against his in response.

“Mine,” he groans possessively, a dragon hoarding his treasure. “No one else’s, just mine.” Warmth spreads, blooming from the spot where he marked you and everything smells sticky sweet. The gentle kisses he rains on you are a sharp contrast to your now broken skin, and his dragon eagerly laps at the crimson dripping down your neck.

He nuzzles your head, breathing in that sweet scent, nose passionately kissing yours. The satisfaction of his claim is written on his face and he pulls your lips back to his, his grip still firmly affixed to your chin.

And it is time, finally as his auxiliary cock withdraws and he places the tip of his main cock at your entrance, eyes locked with yours to watch for signs of hesitation before pushing in. But there is no hesitation in your eyes, even as the foreign sensation of the tail he has still wrapped around your ankle holds your leg wide open. Your hands grip his waist and guide him in as you moan together and it feels like he has come deep to a place that feels like home.

His auxiliary cock now rubs delectable circles round your clit, enhancing your excitement as his hips become flush with you. And still, he presses forward, pushing hard into you like he needs to be deeper. Your chemically induced high has you moaning, arching, whimpering much louder than usual and you can see how greatly it affects your dragon lover and he visibly struggles to maintain his control.

“Sylus! It’s so good! God… it’s so good! It’s so good!” you chant, hands grasping his waist and squeezing him to ground yourself and he groans, face buried in your neck, horns nearly puncturing the mattress below you.

“You… you have to stop,” he protests, his tone desperate. “I’m barely hanging on… if you keep making noises like that, I will lose control.”

“Screw control,” your teeth latch around his earlobe and he huffs, tail spreading your legs wider to make room for him. And it’s like hearing the thread snap as his control breaks and his hips crack against yours over and over again, his second cock fervently rubbing your clit in tandem as he crashes against your cervix.

You flail, hands desperately seeking a way to ground yourself as the pressure of his hips against your mound has you seeing stars. And without thinking, you clutch his horns gripping tightly, wrenching his head forward and he practically whimpers.

“Hmph, sensitive,” he grunts, reminding you that they are freshly sprouted. But when you release, he makes a noise of protest.

“Hold on, kitten. You are going to need it.” Oh, God he was right as he grabbed and pulled your waist up, tail shoving a pillow beneath you to improve your angle and suddenly, he is hitting your g-spot, wrenching fevered screams from your throat as his second cock still works your clit.

He groans as you grab his horns once more, holding on for dear life as his hips hammer against you.

“Who’s pussy is this?” he growls, leaning down to suck on the mark he left on your skin, lips latching and leaving pleasure in their wake. There is distant thought, repeatedly silenced that this is so much rougher than usual and yet, you need it exactly like this.

“Hnngg! Sylus!” You squeal, high pitched, barely registering that a question was even asked. His thrust slow down and become harder and deeper.

“Tell me,” he teases, punctuated with a thrust. “Who’s,” thrust, “pussy,” thrust, “is this?”

You huff, eyes rolling into the back of your head as each thunderous clap of his hips against yours makes your body quake. You feel your curves jiggle roughly and whimper.

“Yours! Its… oh God, its yours,” You can barely huff and he purrs with satisfaction.

“That’s right, kitten,” he practically croons. “And its so wet for me. So open and ready… so hungry and willing.”

He pulls back and positions both cockheads at your entrance and you jerk in shock.

“Sylus?! Oh, God. Both?!”

“Shhh,” he soothes, kissing your temple as both heads tease you. “Sweetie, I know you can handle it. My tough Ms. Hunter. I’ll go slow.”

He maintains eye contact carefully as he slowly sinks in, but even as you are stretched beyond what you thought could be possible, he can still claim territory, sliding in deeper.

“Relax,” he whispers, strong hands massaging your lower back when you tense up and you mewl, trying to let your muscles unclench so he can fully seat himself.

And he does, hips flush with yours as he cradles you with strong arms and tells you the take deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” he grunts and you can tell his control is wearing thin as he waits for your breathing to steady.

“Its… not as bad as I thought it would be,” you admit, breathing starting to return to a normal pace and his hips dare to move, causing you to clutch at his horns again. He smirks down at you.

“I knew you could handle it. I will make your pussy feel so good.” His auxiliary cock begins pulsing, moving in a sensation that feels foreign, but it shifts quickly, side to side as Sylus starts to pull out and push back inside you. And the moment it combines with his thrusting, you throw your head back into the mattress behind you, panting, shouting, clawing.

It's so much. Its too much. It shouldn’t be possible to be filled and stretched this way. And the rhythm with which his second cock moves as the first one focuses on driving into you does heavenly, filthy, sinful things to your g-spot.

“Ohh, Sylus!” you cry as he picks up speed, his moaning growing more heated in tandem with yours. Your hands tug harder on his horns as your world spins.

“Oh, kitten… you feel so good.” His voice is different. There is a growl. A rumble that grows from deep within his chest and his tail tightens around you. He presses down firmly on your navel, pace increasing and you are drowning. The sounds of your coupling are lewd as every thrust squelches loudly, your breath is high pitched and Sylus growls louder. His animal instincts are at the forefront and as pressure builds, his tail replaces his thumb circling your clit so he can grab two fistfuls of your hair and pull so that your lips tilt up to meet his lips. When he kisses you, your lips are forced open with a gasp as his auxiliary cock pushes on your g-spot from the inside.

“Sy-Sylus! Oh, god! Sy! Sylus!” You cry repeatedly, head falling to his shoulders. Your lips brush his skin and teeth graze his collar, but you are no longer there. Lost in a cloud of pleasure, your weak attempts to do anything beyond laying there and taking it make Sylus moan in triumph.

“Come, Kitten. Come on my cock. Show me how good you feel.”

And almost on command, you do, the mark he left on you burning in response. Every muscle seems to tighten in protest, as if urging you not to crash into that wall. The pleasure leaves you breathless as the nerves around your clit light up and it almost feels like resonance as you become attuned with your dragon, keenly honing in on him and his presence—on the way he desires you and the rest of the world ceases to exist as you come and the world crashes around you.

Your release becomes a burning hot ache because he isn’t done with you, tail still working your clit as the battering of your g-spot continues. You feel full. You feel so full. You can’t breathe.

God he is everything, nothing else exists and your toes and clit feel like they are on fire.

Throughout it all, you can feel your pulse in your core, swelling around his cocks in tight waves and his breathing and growling is louder than it’s ever been.

“Sylus! Too much! I-!” He hooks one of your legs under his arm and spreads you open further, somehow penetrating deeper and you come again with a scream, nails digging into his back and dragging, teeth sinking into his shoulder.

With even more abandon, he brutalizes your pretty, abused pussy and you can’t believe what you hear.

“Going to fill that pussy up. Pussy needs to be bred!” You’d almost miss it as the loud clap of his hips against yours continues, except he growls it directly into your ear.

“God! Yes!” you cry desperately. You need him to be finished. You need to breathe; you need your pussy and lungs to not feel like they are on fire anymore.

You need your dragon to claim you.

Wings erupt from his back, enveloping your bodies in an intimate cocoon and he roars, teeth marking you and breaking skin once more as his balls draw up tightly and he comes. You yelp as he bites down, back arching you into his chest as you moan his name. His hands hold your hips, pressing himself firmly inside you and you feel each molten hot pulse of cum as he erupts. Its impossible to tell which one of you is shaking harder, but his lips return to yours with a firm, claiming kiss.

“We aren’t leaving this bedroom for a week,” he murmurs, voice still changed, with a hint of a growl and when he pulls back, you see his pupils are starting to look like slits.

You might be in actual danger… but if this is the way you die, it’s a hell of a way to go.

[3fingersofscotch]

Okay but we really need a fic on this. Dragon!Sylus in current timeline and MC being like... My legs are open. That's it. That's the fic.

When current MC meet Dragon!Sylus.

Sylus: Be not afraid.

MC: Raw. Next question.

Sylus:

Sylus: Be a little more afraid.

[3fingersofscotch]

My Husband would do the exact same thing 😂

Rafayel talking to his kid

Rafayel: Okay, fishie. If a stranger came up to you and tell you "hi I'm your father's friend", what would you say?

Kid: You're a liar because my dad only has three friends and one of them is my mom.

Rafayel: Good job!!!

[3fingersofscotch]

God this is a lot but if you have the attention span READ IT.

Inked - Part 3

Synopsis: Your relationship with Rafayel is facing new challenges. He’s protective and you’re stubborn, thankfully Sylus is caught in the middle and has a solution to ease the tension. With the boys being hunted, you’re determined to help. Unfortunately, you might have flown too close to the sun, and now, you’re bound to get burned.

AN: This fanfic was inspired & entirely fueled by the artwork above, done by the amazing @obligatedart - thank you for letting me use your work as the cover art! Go check them out and see the other Rafayel pieces they’ve done. Comment if you want to be tagged for the epilogue &/or sequel!

Content Warnings: slightly more fluff & angst but the smut is SMUTTING, explicit language & sexual content, the *chefs kiss* threesome, oral (m receiving), multiple creampies, anal, PiV, genital piercings, vehicle accidents, near death experiences, injuries, blood, mentions of torture, death, dom!Sylus, bottom!Rafayel, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 15.3k

Part One Part Two

As soon as Rafayel falls asleep, you roll over and send Jenna a message. Your last minute request for time off is approved before you set your phone down on the bedside table. Jenna knew you were burnt out so she told you your time off was starting immediately. You would try to fight her on it, but you have a deadline and your curiosity is peaked. 

You’re trapped under Rafayel’s arm, lying awake for hours. It seems sleep is just not in the cards for you tonight. When he finally wakes up to open the studio, you slip out before he can offer to drive you to work. You’ll tell him you have time off later, if you tell him now he’ll ask what you’re up to. And the last thing you want is him tailing you or lecturing you about staying safe. You’re a hunter for fucks sake. You know how to protect yourself. 

Your first stop is the Hunter’s Association. Jenna glares at you when she spots you walking through the office. You tell her you’re just picking up some things you’d need for your time off and she, thankfully, believes you. After grabbing a few things from your desk, you quietly slip into an empty office and run the license plate Sylus gave you. A pop up with a warning almost makes you shit yourself. When you see the message is for all law enforcement, instructing them that if the individual is apprehended to contact a command member from… the Farspace Fleet, you gasp.

“Wait what…”

You hesitate before putting in the generic security clearance code to clear the warning. You try to refocus, willing yourself not to jump to conclusions. The plate comes back to Issac Ming. When you run his name in the general database there’s no primary address, no phone number and no picture. There is a note on his profile with a street name. You jot it down and shut down the computer. Swiftly packing up your backpack and slipping out of the office. 

You scan the halls and put on your brightest smile as you greet your coworkers. Your eyes flick to the cameras and you squint at the suddenness of its movement. The camera swivels to aim its lens directly at you and you slow. You’re seeing things, surely. You side step and walk across the hall. When you see the camera pan to follow you you stop dead in your tracks. What the fuck? The red light flashes at you before it tilts up and down in a nodding fashion. You feel your phone buzz and you nearly jump out of your skin.

Sylus 𝘚𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘢, 𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘬𝘰.

You’re tempted to flip off the camera, but you don’t need your colleagues to think you’ve completely lost it. You glare at the camera for a moment before turning back to your phone.

Me 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰?

You begin walking again, keeping an eye out for the next camera. Sure enough,it swivels to look at you. Another notification rings out.

Sylus 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘬𝘰. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯.

You grimace, he’s not wrong. You’re completely out of your depth here, but at the same time, you’ve been trained and you’re smart. He should have a little more faith in you. 

Me 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

His response is almost immediate.

Sylus 𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺… 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

You grit your teeth and run a hand through your hair. Before you can begin typing, another message pops up.

Sylus 𝘜𝘩 𝘰𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺. 𝘐𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘴?

This time you don’t hesitate to flip off the camera. You quickly slide your phone in your pocket and jog to the door to the stairwell. There’s no cameras in the stairwell so you’d have a moment to yourself. You descend the stairs quickly and enter the underground garage. You hop on your bike and check your phone one last time before setting off. 

Sylus 𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯. 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦.

Your anger slowly fades, Sylus is worried about you. You finish securing your helmet and send him a quick message.

Me 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

You start up your bike and attach your phone to its holder. Opening GPS, you plug in the street name you got from Isaac’s profile. Another notification sounds before you take off. 

Sylus 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘬𝘰.

You roll your eyes, snap your visor closed and kick off, zooming out of the garage. That nickname is growing on you.

You approach Celestial Boulevard with caution. You have no clue what you’re supposed to be looking for. A house? A bike? You don’t even know what Isaac looks like, the blurry images Sylus sent from the club were completely useless. You drive up and down the street a few times, just to get the lay of the land. A huge hill overlooks the neighborhood, so you quickly maneuver to a better vantage point. 

You park your bike and sit down at the edge of the hill. You open your backpack and pull out a few oranges and a water bottle. You carefully remove your helmet and put on a simple face mask. Isaac might know your face and maybe even your bike, being here is risky. But if he isn’t paying too much attention, he’ll just think you’re a random civilian having a picnic on a nice day. 

Several cars zoom down the road, but it appears they are just passing through. The houses appear empty for the most part, residents either at work or school. You’re about to get back on your bike to canvas the nearby streets when a man emerges from a small shed behind a house with a “For Sale” sign in the front yard. 

“Well, that’s suspicious.”

You open your camera on your phone and pretend to be distracted by the orange slice in your hand as you zoom in. Splurging on the upgrade to your phone camera was proving its worth right about now. The man pulls a bike out of the garage behind him and returns through the door. You toss the orange slice over your shoulder and zoom in even further, focusing on the license plate, snapping a photo. The man exits the garage and mounts his bike. You take a sip of your water as he drives down the road and onto the main street. 

You swipe to your gallery and pull your notebook from your backpack. Comparing the picture of the plate to your notes, you confirm it’s the same bike. You toss everything in your backpack and hop on your bike. 

You park your bike in a bush two houses over and secure your helmet before moving closer to the garage. A faint beeping stops you in your tracks. You search for the source and scoff when you spot a motion sensor. You tug a bottle of hairspray from your bag and spray a thick layer over the lens, the sticky residue would disrupt any movement. As you inch closer to the side door, you see the usual thumbprint scanner. The powder in your bag will work perfectly for that.

You put your riding gloves on and proceed to blow a light coating of face powder over the thumbpad. The silicon fingertip you kept in your “just in case” case would come in handy today. You couldn’t wait to tell Tara the “at-home” detective kit from Etsy was actually worth the investment. Then again, that would mean Tara would know you were breaking and entering. Damn it. You press the silicon finger down on the panel. You blow the remaining powder away and hold your breath, praying the machine will process the print. A cheerful chirp makes you jump and the door clicks open.

The garage was relatively small, just enough room for one person to live relatively comfortably. A sleeping bag is rolled up on the floor next to a space heater and a mini fridge sits in the corner, the distinct smell of instant noodles fills the space. Was he squatting here? Or did someone set this up for him? You’ll have to check the entrance panel for who set up the entry permissions. You carefully rummage through the trash bin and the backpack sat next to the door. Nothing stands out. This might be a dead end.

You retrace your steps, making sure nothing is out of place. You carefully open the door and step outside, closing the door quietly behind you. A few taps on the panel should show you the identification numbers for those who have entered the property. You determine there’ve only been 2 people to enter the property, which means Isaac isn’t working alone. You pull out your phone to make a note of the numbers. You could send them to Sylus, but you want to prove your worth. You could sneak back into Headquarters? 

“And who the fuck are you?”

A rough hand wraps around your arm and pulls you back. You gasp and barely have time to think before the hands are wrapping around your throat. You’re face to face with, who you assume is Isaac. Short dark brown hair, grey eyes, caramel skin with a dusting of coarse stubble. His grip is bruising and growing tighter. You send your knee upwards into his crotch and he releases you, falling forward to his knees. You sprint towards your bike, but he catches up to you instantly. He tackles you to the ground, grabbing at your wrists to keep you from hitting him.

Thank fuck you’re a hunter or he’d already have subdued you. You ram your elbows back into his ribs. You hear him groan in pain and roll so he’s beneath you. You send your head backwards and you hear his nose break against your helmet. He releases you once again and you’re back to sprinting. 

You mount your bike and kick off before your key is even in the ignition. You hear Isaac approaching and slam on the gas as soon as the engine turns over. Your bike lurches forward and you speed off down the road. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the tears from your eyes. That was too close. Your helmet kept your identity safe, your license plate is on the front of your bike, so he wouldn’t have seen it from running up behind you. 

A loud bang echoes behind you and you glance back to see a large motorcycle speeding up behind you. The bike backfires again as the engine pushes the bike forward. Even with a helmet on you could tell it was Isaac just from his massive frame. You take the next turn down an alley. His bike is more powerful, but yours is nimble. You can take turns faster than he can.

You exit the alley and head to the highway, you need to get downtown so you could rely on the winding streets to shake him. Another loud bang sends shivers down your spine, he’s too damn close. You see his headlights appear next to you and you swerve to get distance. You can hear him shout and you know you won’t make much further, you need a plan, now. 

Hooking a right, you send it down a narrow road leading to a bridge. The N109 Zone is on the other side and the dangers there might serve as a buffer. You tremble as the tires of your bike roll over the rigid surface of the bridge. You approach the final turn and the back of your bike swings out from under you. You look back to see Isaac’s leg outstretched before you hit the ground. Your shoulder hits the pavement and you’re dragged along behind your bike. You kick your feet, before realizing one of your boots is torn and stuck on the pedal. 

“Fuck!”

Your bike skids towards the edge of the bridge and you desperately grab the handlebars trying to get free. You can feel your boot slowly slipping off your foot as you thrash against the torn leather. But it’s too late.

Your bike tumbles over the edge of the bridge and pulls you along with it. Gravity helps you out and at the last second your boot is torn from your foot as the bike falls to the river below. Your hands reach out and a sharp sting radiates down your arms as they grab onto a metal bar just over the edge. You hang there for a second, trying to catch your breath. You try to pull yourself up, hooking your arm around the bar and swinging your leg up. You hear a sinister laugh and look up and see Isaac standing above you. He flips his visor up and you can tell from the crinkle around his eyes that he’s pleased with your predicament. 

“So not a racer, just a nosey bitch.”

His gravelly voice makes you wince and you cling to the bar for dear life. He takes a step closer and you bite your lip. You will not beg for your life. Not to this man. Not like this. 

“Fuck you.”

Isaac laughs and pulls a knife from his back pocket. You hold your breath and look down, falling from this height into a freezing river would be a guaranteed painful death. You rack your brain trying to find a solution, but your panic is boiling over. 

You never got a chance to tell Rafayel you loved him…

“What the hell–”

Tires screech on the bridge above you and a loud thunk almost makes you lose your grip. Your eyes snap open and you spot Isaac in the ground, a huge crack along the side of his helmet. You stretch your neck to see who is responsible and spot a large shadow moving closer to the edge. You swing your leg up onto the bar and quickly reach to your boot to feel for your firearm. Shit. Your gun and your boot were at the bottom of the river. 

“You said you’d call if you needed anything.”

The familiar voice sends a tidal wave of relief over you. You look up to see Sylus looking down at you, his helmet resting against his hip, a pistol in his hand. His expression is tense as he holsters his gun and crouches, extending a hand to you which you gladly take. He pulls you to safety with ease and you stumble forward into him, your arms instinctively wrapping around him. He was solid, you’re on solid ground, you’re safe. Sylus chuckles softly, his hands gently holding your shoulders.

“Are you injured?”

He squeezes your shoulders lightly and you wince. He steps back and flips your visor up to look at you. You don’t have time to dry your eyes and the pain you feel in your shoulder and ankle is getting harder to ignore, so you don’t bother putting on a brave face. 

“My shoulder… and ankle… Other than that, I’m peachy.”

Sylus immediately bends to pick you up. You gasp and cling to his shoulders as he carries you to his bike. He sits you down and takes his leather jacket off to wrap around you. You hadn’t even realized the sun had gone down and your sweater was soaked in sweat, leaving your shivering. You slide your arms through the sleeves and once Sylus gets on, you don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around him to steal some of his warmth. 

“Don’t scare us like that again.”

You lift your head from his back and open your mouth to speak, but are cut off by Sylus’s bike roaring to life. He turns and heads back into Linkon.

“I’ll look at your shoulder and ankle and get you cleaned up, but as far as the mess you’ll have when you get home?”

You close your eyes and drop your head against his back. He lets out a breathy laugh.

“Can’t help you with that. So, good luck, sweetie.”

You let out a pained groan and he reaches back to pat your leg. 

“Rest. I’ll take it slow.”

You sigh. Worry, pain, concern, fear all melt away as you finally let yourself breath. Sylus keeps his word, he drives the speed limit and takes turns carefully, letting you rest against him. What the fuck are you going to say to Rafayel?

Sylus pulls into the garage at his base and you spot Rafayel’s bike parked in the corner. You let out a deep sigh and Sylus laughs. He parks his bike and takes off his helmet slowly. He flashes you a comforting smile.

“I can try to buy you some time. Let’s get you inside, hmm?”

You fumble with the hook on your helmet, your tender shoulder proving to be quite the hindrance. Sylus swats your hand away and unhooks the latch, carefully removing it. He picks you up and carries you into the base through a side door. 

He strolls down the empty hallways and into one of the bathrooms, setting you down next to the sink. He digs through the cabinet and finds a first aid kit. He starts to unzip his jacket which is still wrapped around you. 

“Lift your arm for me?”

He drapes his jacket over your legs and steps back to watch you lift your arm in front of you. There’s pain, but it’s manageable. 

“Rotate it.”

You rotate your shoulder blade and feel your muscles spasm. You gasp and Sylus quickly reaches out to hold your arm in place. He presses his thumb into your collarbone.

“Does this hurt?”

You shake your head. He presses his palm onto your shoulder and pushes back.

“How about now?

Again, you shake your head. He reaches his hand around to the back of your upper arm and his fingers graze your skin. You yelp and stare at him with wide eyes. You turn and look in the mirror to see a large hole in your sweater, a large patch of road rash visible. Sylus gently places his hands on your waist and pulls you forward.

“Can I cut your sleeve off? It’ll be easier to treat.”

You nod and watch Sylus carefully cut the fabric and slide the sleeve down your arm. A few more patches of road rash are revealed and Sylus gets to work cleaning them. He applies antibiotic cream and bandages before checking your ankle. 

“I don’t think you broke or sprained it, there’s just a cut. Shouldn’t need stitches.”

He cleans the wound and wraps your ankle tightly. You grab onto his shoulders and hop off the counter. Your ankle wobbles and you cling to Sylus, his arm wraps around your waist. Of course at that very moment the bathroom door opens and you look up to see Rafayel. If looks could kill, you’re sure Sylus would be dead right now. Sylus glances over his shoulder and gives Rafayel a nod, but he doesn’t let go of your waist.

“Perfect timing. She’s all patched up. Might I suggest moving this little reunion to the sitting room? So she can prop her foot up while you argue?”

Rafayel scoffs and leaves the bathroom. You let go of Sylus and lean back on the counter.

“He’s so angry…”

You slowly turn to inspect your appearance. You turn on the sink and cup your hands to gather the cool water, splashing your face and gently comb through your sweaty hair. Sylus hands you a clean towel and begins cleaning up the mess of bandages and ointments. You turn off the water and dry your hands and face while you slowly walk towards the door, testing your ankle with each step. 

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You turn back and look at Sylus through the mirror. His scarlet eyes meet yours.

“He’s always angry.”

Your chest aches, you don’t know how, but you could sense it. Rafayel was always angry. Deflecting with humor, hunched over a sketch pad or canvas, or even a body he’s tattooing. He did his best to avoid his anger, but it’s still there. You stare at the ground as you walk down the hallway towards the sitting room where you could hear Rafayel pacing. The subtle creak of the floorboards echoed through the hallway and you held your breath as you opened the door.

Rafayel didn’t even look at you when you entered. You stared at the side of his face, his brow was furrowed, his lips set in a tight line, even his chest was rising and falling faster than usual. You sat on the couch and shifted to prop your ankle up. Suddenly, Rafayel was in front of you, lifting your leg and placing a pillow under your ankle. He grabbed the throw blanket off of the couch behind you and wrapped it around your shoulders. You dipped your head, trying to meet his eyes, but he didn’t let you. He quickly turned and sat on the coffee table across from you, his elbows on his knees and his eyes downcast. 

“Raf…”

He sighs and his head droops and his shoulders tense. 

“Do you know how fucking scared I was?”

You pick at your fingernails.

“I had to hear from Sylus that you had gotten too close.”

He finally looks at you and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You shake your head in frustration. 

“I was thinking I had a lead and I needed to get proof. Which I got. Yes, I got into some trouble, but I’m okay now. I know what I’m –”

“You know what you’re doing?” He interrupts you and you cross your arms. “Do you really?”

“Yes, I do. Rafayel, I’m a hunter, I’ve been trained for this. Just because things got a bit hairy –”

“You call almost falling from a 100 foot bridge ‘a bit hairy’?” 

You’d normally tear someone’s head off for interrupting you, but you remind yourself he’s just angry because he cares about you. You’ll give him a break, just this once.

“I saw his face, I was in his space, he was trying to protect the second person involved. Which, yes, there’s a second person! He had a lot to lose so he came at me. Yes, I was unprepared, but I was doing okay. I would have –”

Rafayel jumps up from the table and plants a hand by your shoulder on the armrest of the couch. He leans forward and his nose brushes yours. His breath fans across your face and you blush. You want to hold him, to suffocate the anger and find solace in each other’s touch.

“You almost died. You… I know you’re a hunter and you’re trained for this, but… I can’t…”

You lift your hand and gently stroke his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You lean forward and rest your forehead against his. He drops to his knee and wraps his arms around your waist. 

“I’m sorry.”

He sighs like he’s been holding his breath for hours. He kisses your shoulder and nuzzles his face into your neck.

“I can’t lose you…”

His voice is barely above a whisper, but his words echo like a scream in your mind. You think back to when you were hanging from that bridge. 

“Rafayel I –”

“Ahh good, you two have patched things up. Just in time.”

Sylus’s voice makes you jump and Rafayel tenses. He sits back on his heel and cocks his head, give Sylus that same look from the bathroom. You get the feeling Rafayel might be more angry with Sylus over your involvement. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I took a look at your notebook and did some digging of my own. Isaac’s an interesting fellow, isn’t he?”

You squint at him and give him your best scoff. 

“You went through my things?”

“Ah, you do mind. Apologies. I’ll make it up to you later.”

He winks at you and Rafayel stands. He crosses his arms and watches Sylus cross the room to stand in front of you. He hands you a glass of water and a bottle of pain meds. You eagerly take the bottle and toss two capsules in your mouth. Downing the entire glass of water in one go. Your pain isn’t nearly as bad as earlier, but the way Rafayel is staring at Sylus - you sense a headache coming on.

“We’re not talking about this now.”

Rafayel’s voice is tense, like he’s barely holding back. Sylus smiles and takes a small step towards him. 

“Time is of the essence, Rafayel.”

“She got injured less than an hour ago Sylus, fuck off.”

“I’m aware. I patched her up myself.”

Rafayel steps closer to Sylus and grits his teeth. You swing your leg off the couch and lean forward.

“I’m okay, Raf. Really.”

“You knew she was looking into this prick a few hours ago, right? Why didn’t you go help her sooner? You could have backed her up and Issac wouldn’t have even gotten close to her.”

Sylus nods, but remains silent. 

“And you just left him on the bridge? It’s not like you to leave a job unfinished, you lost your edge Sy? Gone soft?”

Sylus lets out a sigh. He’s eerily calm, but you catch his jaw tensing. 

“Go on, get it out Raf.” 

Hearing Sylus call him Raf was unexpected. His tone is playful, but there’s an edge to it that forces you to stand and move closer.

“You should have finished the damn job Sylus.”

“You wanted me to shoot him? On a bridge within Linkon city limits, with cameras that caught her license plate? So you’d be okay with her getting fired and thrown in jail for being an accomplice to murder?”

Rafayel hesitates for a moment.

“She wouldn’t have –”

“The same cameras would have seen my license plate. You think any judge in their right mind would settle for anything less for someone connected to me?”

“You could have intercepted him before they even got to that goddamn bridge!”

Sylus finally cracks and steps up to Rafayel until their chests nearly touch. You cross your arms and grunt loudly. They’re talking like you’re not even there. 

“God, you two fight like an old married couple. Arguing over should-ofs and would-ofs. I’m alive and you have a lead. Just kiss and make up already!”

They both look at you with wide eyes. Sylus flashes his sinister smirk and looks at Rafayel, who is still staring at you. 

“She has a point, we do argue like a married couple don’t we?”

Rafayel’s ears slowly redden and your heart pounds in your chest. Something about the way Sylus is speaking sends a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck you.”

“You’re so cute when you’re trying to be mean. Don’t you agree?”

Sylus looks at you and you smile, he’s not wrong. Rafayel gives you an incredulous look that makes you finally laugh out loud. Your breath catches when Sylus lifts his hand to grab Rafayel’s chin, forcing him to face him again.

“You can either argue with me or work out your frustrations in a more creative way. One that will make her happy, I’m sure.”

Rafayel lets out a shaky breath as Sylus strokes his chin. The heat building in your lower stomach is undeniable. Watching Sylus handle Rafayel’s anger like this is… intoxicating. Sylus grips Rafayel's jaw and turns his head to face you.

“See?”

He leans forward and whispers into Rafayel’s ear.

“She likes to watch.”

A soft moan escapes past your lips and Rafayel’s chest caves. His eyes roll and he leans into Sylus’s touch. Sylus grins and leans in to press his lips to Rafayel’s neck. His hands grip Rafayel’s hips as he pulls him closer. Your clit throbs watching Rafayel melt in Sylus’s presence. Rafayel turns his head and holds Sylus’ face in his hands, pressing a kiss to his lips. Sylus deepens the kiss, tightening his grip on Rafayel’s jaw until he opens his mouth wider. He slips his tongue in his mouth and the men moan as their tongues collide. 

Sylus threads his other hand through Rafayel’s hair and yanks him away. Rafayel gasps for air as Sylus tilts his head back and presses a kiss to the center of his throat. He nips and sucks, marking Rafayel’s sensitive skin. Rafayel sinks his nails into Sylus’ shoulders and groans.

“Both of you, follow me.”

Sylus mutters through bated breaths. He lets go of Rafayel and strides towards the door. You grab Rafayel’s hand and follow him. Rafayel leans in close and whispers into your ear as you struggle to keep up with Sylus’ long strides. 

“You’re okay with this… right?”

You look over your shoulder at him and flash him a lustful smile. 

“He’s not the only one who’s going to play.”

Rafayel’s eyes widen and you watch the furious blush travel from his cheeks to his chest. You squeeze his hand.

“I won’t… participate… in anything you’re not okay with.”

Just as you reach the room Sylus entered, Rafayel pulls you back and kisses you, hard. His fingers glide over the sides of your neck and down your shoulders. You hear Sylus clear his throat, forcing you to break the kiss. You both look over to see him leaning back on a massive bed. You tug on Rafayel’s hand and pull him into the room behind you. 

Rafayel stops in front of Sylus and you release his hand, making him pout. But it’s soon replaced with a gasp as Sylus pulls him down to straddle his lap. As soon as Rafayel sits, it’s like something within him snaps, he fists Sylus’s hair and kisses him fervently. Sylus tugs on Rafayel’s shirt and removes it in one swift motion. He dips his head down and places kisses along Rafayel’s chest before taking one of his nipple rings in his mouth and tugging lightly. A guttural groan rips through Rafayel’s chest and Sylus lifts him to throw him back on the bed. 

Sylus slowly unbuttons his shirt, keeping his eyes on Rafayel. He settles his knee between his legs on the bed and presses his thigh against Rafayel’s crotch. You cling to the metal rail of the footboard and run your hand over your breasts, feeling your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your ruined sweater. Sylus whips off his belt and tosses it to the floor. 

“Strip, make sure he sees.”

You wince at the suddenness of his booming voice, you know he’s talking to you. Rafayel turns his head and locks eyes with you. You look to Sylus for a moment and he nods, giving you the floor. Moving backwards slowly, you lift your sweater over your head carefully avoiding your bandages. The buttons of your pants pop open as Sylus undoes Rafayel’s belt. You slide your pants over your hips and shimmy them down your legs. Rafayel’s pants follow suit and Sylus looks over to match your pace. 

You dip your hand down the front of your panties and rub your middle finger over your clit. Just the slightest touch makes your moan and your eyes roll. You hear Rafayel sigh and you look up to see Sylus kissing his neck, his hand shoved down the front of Rafayel’s boxers. You snake your free hand up your back and unhook your bra, letting the cups slip down and reveal your breasts. You drop your bra to the floor before returning your attention to your clit. 

“Rafayel…”

Your voice breaks as a sudden wave of pleasure hits you. Your knees buckle and your hand latches onto the metal bed frame, you barely realize you’ve already sunk a finger into your needy pussy. 

“Take them o-off…”

He nearly chokes on the words, his mind struggling to keep up with his body. He’s overwhelmed, but needing more. His hips thrust upwards into Sylus’s hand. He holds onto Sylus’s shoulders and keeps him pressed against his chest. You smile wickedly and hook your thumbs into the hem of your panties. You push them down over your hips and lift your leg to set your foot flat on the bed in front of you. You hold onto the frame with one hand while you spread yourself open with the other. Rafayel moans and reaches for you. Sylus slams his hand down on Rafayel’s wrist and damn near growls into his neck. 

“Turn over. And sweetie?”

He looks at you, sweat drips down his chest making the scales of his dragon tattoo glisten. 

“I think it’s time you join us.”

Rafayel opens his mouth to argue, but Sylus runs his thumb over his swollen tip that’s leaking furiously. Rafayel arches off the bed and glares at Sylus for only a moment before he complies. Once he’s on his knees on the bed, Sylus pulls his boxers down completely. He stands briefly to remove his own and then climbs on the bed behind Rafayel. You crawl onto the bed in front of Rafayel and sit back, spreading your legs wide and leaning back on your elbows. Rafayel nearly starts panting when he sees how wet you are, but his teeth sink into his bottom lip as soon as Sylus reaches around to start stroking him and kissing his back. 

“Sylus… I –”

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Rafayel drops his head and grunts. Sylus slowly spreads Rafayel open and runs his fingers over his tight hole. He bites Rafayel’s shoulder as he works his fingers in and you whimper at the lewd sounds escaping your lover’s lips. 

“I’ll take it slow, pretty boy, make you feel so good.”

Sylus withdraws his fingers and reaches behind him to open the side table. He retrieves a bottle of lube and begins squirting a generous amount over Rafayel’s ass and his own erection. Rafayel winces and looks up at you, his eyes hazy with lust and a hint of curiosity. You scooch closer and Rafayel grabs onto one of your ankles and tries to pull you forward. You place your hands on his shoulders and push back. 

“Watch…”

You lay back on the bed and run both of your hands over your breasts, squeezing the sensitive flesh and massage your nipples until the peaks are blushed and swollen. You moan as you run your hands down your stomach and dig your fingers into the plush of your hips. Just as you dip your fingers back into your weeping cunt, Rafayel lets out a strangled whimper. You look at him and see his pupils blown wide, Sylus kneels behind him wearing a euphoric smile. 

“Just relax, let me find the spot. Watch her play.”

Sylus slowly presses his cock into Rafayel and massages his hips as he rocks forward. Rafayel wheezes and groans, his face reflecting a strange mix of pain and pleasure. He drops his eyes to your pussy and watches you dig your fingers deeper.

“I can’t… my fingers aren’t - fuck..”

Sylus leans over and grips Rafayel’s jaw, his hips still pushing forward slowly.

“Make her cum.”

Rafayel looks over his shoulder and tries to pull his jaw free. He winces when Sylus rolls his hips. He forces his eyes open, a stream of tears trickling down his cheek as he speaks.

“Stand me up then.”

Sylus grins. He wraps an arm around Rafayel’s throat and forces him into a kneeling position. Rafayel gasps and clings to Sylus’ arm. The change in position shifts Sylus deeper and you know the moment it happens, Rafayel shouts Sylus’s name and presses his hips back against him. He whimpers and writhes against Sylus’s chest, his hair sticking to his forehead in delicate waves. 

You withdraw your fingers and turn to lay beneath Rafayel’s leaking cock. You don’t hesitate to suck him into your mouth and run your hands up his inner thighs. You feel your pussy throb and squeeze and you know you’re about to have a positively explosive orgasm completely untouched. 

You stretch your neck and take him further down your throat. His cock twitches and you know he’s on the cusp. You can feel Rafayel’s body being rocked forward by Sylus’s thrusts. When the piercing along his tip hits the back of your throat you start purring. The vibrations at the back of your throat travel up his cock and he whines as he unloads into your mouth. You do your best to take as much as he’ll give you, but have to pull yourself away to gasp for air. The rest of his release coats your chest and stomach. 

Rolling over, you get onto your knees and run your hands over Rafayel’s chest. His head remains thrown back against Sylus’s shoulder. You spot scratch marks along Sylus’s forearm and pull at Rafayel’s hands to loosen their grip. Sylus lets out a deep chuckle and presses a kiss to Rafayel’s temple.

“Good boy.”

Rafayel groans and he lifts his head, looking at you. A smile spreads across his face as he takes in the mess he’s made. He looks down at your body and tilts his head, trying to see between your thighs. You follow his gaze and blush, you made just as big a mess as he did. Your release coats your inner thighs and drips down onto the bed beneath you. 

Sylus releases Rafayel and places his hands on his hips to begin to pull out, but Rafayel stops him. He grabs at his hands and leans back to look over his shoulder at him.

“But you… you didn’t –”

“This wasn’t about me. Our angry artist seems much calmer now, doesn’t he?”

Sylus raises his brow at you and you frown. You look at Rafayel and he shares your expression. Rafayel’s eyes light up as he presses his hips back against Sylus. Shocked at Rafayel’s sudden dominance, Sylus gasps. Rafayel reaches back and holds the back of his neck, he rubs his nose against Sylus’s. 

“That’s not how this is gonna work, Sy.”

You move closer and press your chest against Rafayel, wrapping your arms around both men. Your fingers lightly trace Sylus’s shoulders and upper back. Sylus shivers against your gentle touch. You rest your cheek on Rafayel’s shoulder and look up at the two of them, staring at each other with an unspoken reverence. 

“Fuck me until you cum Sylus.”

Rafayel’s words catch Sylus by surprise, much like the sudden tug at his neck which brings his lips closer. Rafayel kisses Sylus slow and sweet, his hand moving upwards into his hair. A soft moan escapes Sylus’s lips before he wraps an arm around Rafayel’s stomach and pulls him to the edge of the bed and both men stand. Sylus reaches down and forces one of Rafayel’s legs up on the bed. You follow them and plant your hands on Rafayel’s waist, pressing open mouth kisses to his neck. 

Sylus begins rolling his hips against Rafayel and breaks their kiss to throw his head back. Rafayel hangs his head low against his chest and gasps for air. He places his hand on the side of your face and pulls you to him, crashing his lips into yours. He whimpers as he tastes himself on your tongue and feels his cum smear across his face from yours.

“I need to be inside you… please cutie… please I need you.”

He begs so sweetly, who are you to deny him? You keep a knee planted on the bed and hook one of your legs over Rafayel’s leg planted on the bed. He reaches down and rubs your clit. You hold onto Sylus’s arms, his eyes locking onto yours while Rafayel aligns himself. Sylus pulls back suddenly, almost removing himself completely before thrusting back in, Rafayel loudly moans in response. The force of Sylus’s thrust pushes Rafayel’s cock into your entrance and you sigh - finally feeling that glorious stretch and sense of fullness. 

Rafayel pulls you flush against him and Sylus moves his arm from around Rafayel’s stomach to around the both of you. His hand splayed across your lower back. Sylus’s thrusts serve as Rafayel’s and soon all three of you are grinding against each other in perfect harmony. You lift a hand to cup Sylus’s cheek and he looks at you, that same look from the club. Something dark, maybe even painful. He leans into your touch and rests his forehead against yours.

“Faster Sylus please… fuck…”

Sylus chuckles at Rafayel’s desperate plea, but obliges, his hips moving at a damn near inhuman pace. Your walls clench around Rafayel and your aching muscles tremble. The only thing grounding you to this moment is Sylus’s hair tickling your cheek, Rafayel’s hands gripping your hips and the steady thud of the headboard against the wall. You’re coming hot and fast before you can register Rafayel’s scream of pleasure nearly deafening you. 

Sylus’s hips stutter and he turns to press his lips against your hand, he whines and sinks his teeth into your palm. Your eyes focus on Sylus, his face fully relaxed as his body convulses. His tongue soothes the bite and he nuzzles his cheek against your hand. 

Rafayel rests his forehead on your shoulder as he comes down from his second orgasm. Sylus steps back and you feel Rafayel’s full weight press against you as he lurches forward and hisses at the sudden emptiness. You ease Rafayel back onto the bed. He settles on top of you, his arms wrapping around you, his head resting your chest. You rub calming circles over his skin and let your head sink into the pillow. You turn your head to see Sylus enter the bathroom and shut the door. 

You must have been asleep for a few hours because the faintest hint of an orange sunrise fills the room with a warm glow. You look at Rafayel laying on his stomach next to you, his arm draped across your stomach. The blanket covering you both is clean and intensely soft, you don’t want to think about how expensive the one from last night, the one you all ruined, was. 

You turn to see Sylus laying on his back on the other side of you. You roll on your side to face him and pull Rafayel’s arm around you. Sylus opens his eyes and meets your gaze, he lifts his arm, places his hand behind his head and turns to look at you. You replay the look he gave you and wonder what could be going on behind those haunting eyes. As if reading your mind, Sylus chuckles softly before looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m fine, Bakeneko. Perfectly fine.”

You scoff, which makes Sylus look at you once again.

“I don’t buy that.”

Sylus doesn’t argue, he only smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. You’ve been naked around his man multiple times at this point, there’s no reason to walk on eggshells now.

“Why do you deny yourself?”

Sylus remains silent.

“You tried to make it just about us…”

You gently rub Rafayel’s arm draped over you.

“...but you were just as involved. We didn’t push you too far, did we?”

Sylus shakes his head calmly. His shoulders relax as he lets out a soft sigh. You reach out and place your hand on his cheek. Sylus lets out a shaky breath.

“Why do I feel like you’re punishing yourself?”

His eyes open and his intense stare burns through you, it’s like he can see your very soul. Your cheeks warm and you have to focus all of your strength on maintaining eye contact with him. You start to see brief moments of sadness flicker across his expression and your chest aches. 

“Sylus…”

You whisper his name and he closes his eyes, cutting himself off from his own emotions. Your skin is covered in goosebumps and a sheen of sweat coats your forehead. Sylus shakes his head.

“M’sorry. Just tired. That’s all.”

Your thumb strokes his cheek and his eyes open. And while you can’t see it, you can feel the quiet sadness. The loneliness surrounding this enigma of a man is devastating. The corner of his mouth curves into a small smile. 

“Thank you.”

You open your mouth to ask for what when you feel Rafayel shift behind you. He groans and presses his face into your back, kissing your spine. Sylus lifts his hand and places it over yours, reveling in your touch for a moment longer before removing your hand and sitting up.

“He’s going to need pain meds, he’ll be… fairly sore for a few days.”

He looks over his shoulder and flashes that signature smirk before leaving the room. You didn’t need to ask for specifics, whatever happened in his past left him broken. You roll over and face Rafayel, he opens his eyes when he feels you shift beside him and smiles when you kiss his forehead.

“Good morning cutie.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

He rolls his eyes and then flinches when he tries to turn over on his side. 

“Sylus is getting you something for the pain. He said you might be sore for a few days.”

Rafayel shoves his face into the pillow. You barely hear him as he mumbles into it.

“Is this what it feels like for you?”

You can’t hold back the laughter any longer and you laugh until your chest hurts.

“If you feel like your insides have been rearranged, then yes. That’s sometimes how I feel.”

He pushes himself up onto his elbows and looks at you with genuine sadness.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck…”

You play with his hair and kiss his cheek. 

“It’s worth it.”

From the moment he woke up, Rafayel didn’t let you out of his sight. He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you to his lap while you give them the details about Isaac over breakfast. Sylus isn’t surprised by his connection to the Farspace Fleet and while you tried your best not to tense when the fleet was mentioned, Rafayel felt it and held you tighter.

“What’s wrong?”

He whispers in your ear and rubs his hands over your thighs. You hum and give him a placating nod. Sylus set down another cup of coffee on the coffee table in front of you. You don’t hesitate to grab it and almost burn your mouth when you take a big sip. 

“We’ll take it from here. I have people –”

“No! No. Just because I got into a bit of trouble yesterday –”

“A BIT? You almost fell off a BRIDGE!”

Rafayel’s voice cracks as he tries to maintain his composure. You elbow him in the ribs lightly and he grunts. Sylus takes a sip of coffee to hide his smile.

“Isaac doesn’t know who I am. I had my helmet on, my bike only has a plate on the front and, well, now it is at the bottom of the river. I’m not backing out now.”

Sylus sighs and glances over your shoulder at Rafayel. You cross your arms and wince at the soreness in your shoulder. Rafayel hugs you close to his chest and kisses your sore shoulder. 

“We just don’t want you to get hurt.” 

You let out a frustrated huff.

“Well, I’m not going to stop looking into it.”

Sylus pinches the bridge of his nose. He flips through your notebook, reviewing your notes on Isaac and his make-shift home. He leans back and eyes you. 

“He’ll be licking his wounds, he won’t make any significant moves today. Focus on relaxing that shoulder. We can figure out our next steps tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes, he was being infuriatingly level headed. You didn’t want to wait around, you wanted to stay on offense. Rafayel taps your thigh and you stand, he stands and gathers the breakfast plates in silence. You watch him head into the kitchen with his head hanging low. He’s frustrated, but you know he won’t force you to stand down. But that doesn’t mean he’s not livid at the thought of you risking your safety. Once Rafayel is out of sight, you look back to Sylus who is staring at you.

“You’re not getting pushed out.”

“He’s mad.”

Sylus chuckles.

“Of course he is. The woman he loves almost died.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva. Your pupils blow wide and your cheeks burn. In an attempt to distract yourself, you put your hands on your hips and scoff.

“I don’t… I’m…”

Sylus stands suddenly and slowly walks towards you.

“I’ve been acquainted with Rafayel for a long time. He’s like me, not one to attach himself to just anyone. If he lets his walls down and lets you in, it’s because he intends to keep you close.” 

You drop your hands from your hips and your shoulders droop. You feel your heart pound in your chest. Your whole world has flipped upside down since meeting Rafayel. You get excited to see him when you come home from work. You think about him when you’re on missions. If you’re honest, it’s not hard to imagine a future with Rafayel.

Sylus walks over and places a hand on your good shoulder, his dark eyes shimmer in the warm morning light. His usual smirk is replaced with a soft smile. 

“Be patient with him.”

You sigh, trying to hide the blush spreading across your face and chest. You hear footsteps approaching and look past Sylus to see Rafayel leaning against the doorframe sipping his coffee. His jaw is set, twitching ever so slightly as he stares at Sylus’s hand on your shoulder. Sylus follows your gaze and his smile melts back to his signature smirk. 

“We’ll meet tomorrow at your studio to discuss our next steps.”

Sylus brushes past Rafayel on his way out and Rafayel’s grip on his mug threatens to shatter the ceramic. You walk over to Rafayel and lock your fingers behind his neck. 

“Babe?”

His jaw relaxes and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. You kiss that corner and then the other and then the tip of his nose. He sucks in the ball of his labret piercing and rolls it between his teeth trying to maintain his pout. You kiss him and suck his lower lip into your mouth. He kisses you back, his tongue teasing yours. 

“Let’s go home.”

Your whispered words elicit a soft whimper and you giggle against his mouth. He squeezes your hip and nuzzles his face into your neck.

“Home… yeah, let’s go.”

The drive back to Linkon was quiet, Rafayel took the scenic route, slowing anytime the ocean came into view. When he pulled his bike into the private parking you were almost sad. You make a mental note to plan a bike ride together, ending with a picnic on the beach. 

Rafayel holds your hand as you walk into the studio. Nearly every station had a client, an artist hunched over the skin in front of them. Thomas waves Rafayel over and you stare at the floor as you approach him. Rafayel chuckles and squeezes your hand.

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed…”

You shove him gently and Thomas clears his throat.

“Are we still on for today?”

You glance sideways at Rafayel and watch him nod. He turns to you and runs his hands up and down your arms. 

“I have an appointment in about two hours. Won’t be long. I was thinking we could order some dinner later and watch the rest of that video game thing?”

You giggle in surprise.

“I wish I had convinced you to play Subnautica first. Now all the surprises are spoiled.”

“Just let me enjoy the guy screaming over the Leviathan!”

You cross your arms and Rafayel groans. 

“Fine… fine. I’ll play it with you, how about that? After we finish the series.”

You nod excitedly and kiss his cheek. 

“What are you gonna do today? If… you know… you’re not going to… work?”

His voice is hesitant, like he doesn’t quite believe you won’t keep looking into Isaac for the day. You press your body against his and rest your head on his chest.

“I’m going to call Tara and try to meet her for lunch. Then I need to grab some more stuff from my apartment. I ordered a few things and I think they were delivered yesterday.”

You could hear his heartbeat slow as he let out a deep breath. 

“Then I’ll order dinner and you pick up?”

You lean back and look up at him. His sunset eyes staring down at you, the faint blush to his cheeks, he’s glowing… you almost don’t want to leave. But the little “surprise” you ordered for him was delivered and the thought of his face when he sees you in it… 

“Sounds good. Text me, yeah?”

He nods and kisses your forehead before walking around the counter to speak with Thomas. You run up the stairs to Rafayel’s apartment and send Tara a quick text before jumping in the shower. 

Me 𝘏𝘦𝘺! 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩? 𝘔𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.

Tara 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳?

Me 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘣, 𝘴𝘰 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰, 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺?

Tara 𝘈 𝘊𝘈𝘉? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘪𝘬𝘦?

Me 𝘓𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩.

Tara 𝘒𝘒 - 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯!

With your hair wrapped in a towel, you start to make a list of what you need to pick up from your apartment. It’d almost be easier to just move in at this point. The thought makes your stomach flutter. What if you did? Move in with him? Would he want that? Is this small apartment enough space? Would he consider getting a bigger place? You’ve always wanted a cat? Would he want a cat? What if he hates cats? 

Your mind swirls with questions as you get ready for lunch. You step out onto the fire escape for some fresh air as you towel dry your hair. The air is warm and the clouds above are wispy, floating through the azure sky in soft waves. Summer was just around the corner and all you could think about was getting Rafayel to the beach. Seeing all of his tattoos on full display as runs along the sand and into the sea. You remember watching an interview where he explained his love for the ocean and why it became his primary focus in terms of tattooing. You could tell there was more he wasn’t telling the interviewer. You couldn’t wait to ask him to tell you more.

You quickly slip on a pair of denim shorts and “steal” one of Rafayel’s loose dress shirts out of his closet. You throw it on and roll up the sleeves, tying the excess fabric at the waist. The soft black fabric felt heavenly against your skin, the intricate cherry blossom design weaving over your shoulders and down your arms like ivy. As soon as you finish lacing your boots, you hear the chirp of your phone.

Tara 𝘊𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘧𝘦, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 10

Me 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥, 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘣 𝘶𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.

Tara  𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘴!

You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder before jogging out the door. You walk past the front of the studio and look inside, but don’t spot Rafayel. The "occupato” sign above his private room wasn’t turned on either. He didn’t say he had a tattoo appointment, so it could be something else. Maybe a doctor’s appointment? If it’s a doctor’s appointment, why wouldn’t he tell you about it? Is something wrong?

You continue down the road and hang a left to walk through the garden district. Your mind is still buzzing with questions about where Rafayel could be so you don’t hear the breaks of a car squeak behind you. The sudden screech of tires on pavement snaps you back to reality, but not before everything goes dark. 

A thick bag is shoved over your head and before you could even reach for your pocket knife a sharp sting radiates through the side of your neck. Exhaustion overwhelms your senses and your knees give out. Burly arms circle around your waist and your heels drag along the ground. You think you’re screaming, but can’t feel your mouth moving. Panic washes over you as you fight against what you assume is a sedative. Your body is airborne for a few seconds before crashing down onto cold metal, your arms forced behind your back. You let your head tilt back and your eyes flutter as you barely hold onto consciousness. Before everything fades you hear a raspy voice in your ear.

“No one to save you now, huh princess?”

Your hearing is the first sense to return, the shrill ringing makes your temples throb. A bright light warms your face, glowing behind your lids. You open your eyes and immediately squint. You groan and shift, feeling a sharp pain around your wrists. You force your eyes open and sit up straight, but your body fights against you. Your limbs feel heavy, your head pounds, your mouth tastes like copper. 

The room you’re in is nearly empty, a table sits in the corner of the room and a metal chair sits in front of you. Your chest tightens and you cough, something rattles from deep within your chest and pain shoots through your side. Maybe a broken rib? Fluid in your lunges? Memories of a fist hurtling toward you confirms a fear that settles like an anchor in your gut - you’ve been here for hours.

You hear a door swing open and slam against the wall behind you. You try to look over your shoulder, but the handcuffs binding your wrists rub against your sensitive skin and you flinch. Footsteps echo through the room and you close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. You know panicking will only make your captors feel more powerful. 

As the footsteps get closer you try to retrace your steps. Where were you at the time of getting picked up? Would anyone know you were gone? Lunch with Tara, she’d know something was wrong, surely. Rafayel too. How soon would they figure it out? Are you still in Linkon? The N109 Zone? Or in a different region entirely?  

“Hope you’re ready to talk now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and grit your teeth. When you open your eyes you see Isaac standing in front of you, he massages his gloved hands. He stares at you, a twisted smile spreading across his face. He turns and approaches the table in the corner, the shadows too dark to tell what he picks up. 

“Sylus’s base. Where is it?” 

He stops in front of you, his fist now adorned with brass knuckles. You wince and let out a desperate sigh. Faint memories of Isaac asking about Sylus, the location of his base, the nature of your relationship with him - did all of this just come back to Sylus? Why does he think you know anything of value?

“I… why…”

Before you can say another word, Isaac grabs your face and leans down to lock eyes with you. His grip tightens and you grunt.

“I must have hit you pretty hard, huh? Fine, I’ll go over it again.”

He releases your face and quickly turns back to the table. You hear the shuffle of papers and he returns, holding up a photo of you leaning towards Sylus at a poker table, both of you smiling warmly at each other. Paradise. Isaac was there and he’d gained access to the basement that night. He holds up another photo, which appears to be from a traffic camera, showing you on the back of Sylus’s bike on the bridge.

“Wait… you think…”

“You know Sylus well enough to be invited to his private poker table. He saved your ass last night. So you’re going to tell me everything, starting with where his base is located and how many men he has posted.”

You stare at him in silence. He thinks you’re with Sylus. At least that means Rafayel isn’t being targeted. And given the pain in your ribs and jaw, you’re collateral damage. You close your eyes, trying to decide what to do. 

Isaac is a member of the Farspace Fleet, if he’s investigating Sylus and you don’t talk you’d be obstructing justice by their standards. However, you are handcuffed and bloody and you’re pretty damn sure Isaac never offered you a lawyer. This is an off-the-books investigation, he was probably told to get results “by any means necessary” - which means you could be locked in this hell hole for days. 

If you tell him what he wants to know, Sylus might get arrested… or worse. You’re not entirely sure what Sylus does, but based on vibes alone, it’s not legal. He’s a capable man, he could easily get away, but what if he couldn’t? You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if he got hurt because of you. 

So how long will you have to endure this torture? Because that’s what this is. You’re being tortured. You feel your lip tremble as you struggle to maintain your composure. Isaac steps closer to you and rests a hand on the back of your chair. You can smell his sickeningly sweet cologne and his breath carries the scent of whiskey. 

“Keep protecting him and see what happens you little bitch –”

BANG

Something warm and wet splatters across your face and you scream. You squeeze your eyes shut and feel Issac’s body fall onto your lap before rolling onto the floor. Your body shakes and convulses as you fight against the overwhelming panic. You hear subtle scraping sounds, as if something is being dragged. And then silence. It’s so damn quiet. 

You allow yourself to peek, just one eye, just enough to see what’s going on. Blood everywhere. A pool stains the floor in front of you, your bare legs covered and your shirt and shorts splattered. You instantly regret your decision and close your eyes once more. You clench your fists and try to squeeze your hands through the cuffs, a cry echoing through the room as the restraints cut deeper. 

“Your little stunt the other night almost ruined my entire operation.”

That voice.

Your entire body stills as if frozen. You have to hold your breath to suppress the urge to vomit. You hear the subtle sound of a lock clicking and the chains around your ankles fall away. You open your eyes and keep your gaze cast down to your lap, if you didn’t see him you could pretend all of this wasn’t really happening. 

Fingers curl around your chin and pull your face upwards. Before you can snap your eyes shut you see him. A strangled cry escapes your throat and tears spill over, running down your cheeks. This can’t be real. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

You’re barely able to hear him, it’s like he’s in another room or maybe another reality entirely. He stands over you and slowly takes off his glove before running his thumb over your cheek. He crouches and carefully traces the bruise on your jaw. You wince and he cups your cheek. You finally look into his eyes and it’s like your entire world comes crashing down.

“Caleb?”

🫧Rafayel’s POV🫧

“You’re such a freak.”

Thomas wipes down the counter and puts the ink bottles back in their proper slot. You grab your shirt from the hook on the back of the door and carefully tug it over your head. Leaving the buttons undone, you hop off the table and stroll over to where Thomas stands. You lean against the counter and cross your arms.

“Why thank you.”

Thomas rolls his eyes and glares at you. He peels his gloves off and turns to face you fully. His sour expression relaxing and a mischievous grin replacing it. 

“Have you told her yet?”

Your shoulders tense and you run a hand through your hair to distract yourself. You’ve been working on the house for weeks, hiring a laundry list of people to turn your neglected beach house into a home. Contractors built an art studio, a gym, and a sauna. Designers filled the space with furniture and necessities. You’ve had Thomas deliver your artwork and sculptures over the past two weeks and secretly packed some of your things, shipping them over to your soon-to-be home. 

“Not… yet… It has to be perfect.”

Thomas chuckles as he walks to the sink to wash his hands.

“Knowing you, it’ll never be perfect. At least it’s not an empty shell collecting dust anymore. When I dropped off the last of your canvases it looked amazing.”

You slowly button your shirt, your stomach twisting at the thought of your stacks of canvases finally getting a proper spot on a wall. You’ve never showcased your paintings and now they’ll line the halls of your home. And your gorgeous girlfriend might just walk through the halls wearing nothing but one of your t-shirts. Home. What a foreign concept. You pull your phone from your back pocket and glance at the time.

“I’m gonna run over there and drop off a few things.”

Thomas dries his hands and smiles at you. 

“I’m not an emotional man, but it does make me pretty happy to see you finally get out of that apartment. Hell, even just out of this studio.”

He gestures to the room, your personal safe haven within Lemuria Studios. Before her, if you weren’t in your tiny apartment upstairs you were in here, either tattooing or sketching. You didn’t have the patience for people, doing interviews, hosting shows, it was torture. You could barely tolerate Thomas most days. That’s why you liked racing, you could put on a helmet and take on another personality entirely. Kitsune was your safety blanket, no one needed to know you were a famous tattoo artist with horrible social skills when you were zooming down the road at 100+ miles per hour. 

“Go, I’ll close up shop.”

Thomas pats you on the shoulder and you wince, shooting him a death glare. Thomas turns and walks away, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“Oh come on, I didn’t even touch it.”

He gently closes the door and you stoop to unlock the lower cabinet. The shelf within is stacked high with sketch books. You take them out and put them on the counter above you. You finally had a proper studio to keep these, a dusty cabinet wasn’t ideal. Standing, you gather the books in your arms and awkwardly open the door, nearly dropping them in the process.

“No no, I’m her friend! I swear!”

You look up and see a petite woman with short brown hair talking with Thomas. She leans over the counter and pounds her tiny fist on the glass display. You’re about to open the side door to head outside when you hear your name.

“Rafayel! Wait! No – this is serious, I’m not – Rafayel!”

You look over your shoulder and see the woman rush up to you, Thomas hot on her heels. He reaches out to grab her arm and she whirls around, grabbing his wrist and twisting. Thomas gasps and spins, the woman yanks his arm up behind his back and presses his chest against the wall. What, you’re sure, is usually an adorable face twists into a furious scowl. 

“We were supposed to meet for lunch nearly an hour ago and her phone is going straight to voicemail! I am NOT leaving until I talk to him, you asshole!”

Your smile fades in a blink and you drop your sketchbooks on the bed of the closest station.

“Are you Tara?”

Tara looks over to you, still holding Thomas against the wall.

“Yes! Yes, I… okay, we were going to meet at Custard Cafe and she said she’d walk there and get us a table. I assumed she was here cause she said it was just down the road in her last text. She never showed up and I’ve called her 10 times and she’s not answering! Please tell me she’s here!”

You swear your heart stops beating. Your breathing becomes shallow and your temples throb. You look over at Thomas, still struggling against the strength of this tiny warrior woman.

“Clear the shop and lock it down. Neither of you leave.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and run out the side door. Taking two steps at a time, you climb the stairs to the apartment and slam your thumb down on the keypad. Your hands shake as you swing open the door and sprint through the small space, calling her name over and over. No response. Her bag and shoes were gone. A damp towel hangs over the door of the shower. Where the fuck is she?

You nearly fall down the stairs as you race to your bike. Forgoing your helmet entirely, you speed out of the garage and down the road towards the cafe. Scanning every side street and alley entrance, trying to envision which way she went. As you approach the garden district, you slow, she’d much rather walk through the gardens than the business square. You rev your engine and pull the handlebars back, sending the bike up on one wheel as you rush through the entrance.

You nearly fly off your bike when you spot the tire marks on the pavement and the small black leather backpack tossed into a nearby flowerbed. 

“Fuck no no no…”

You let your bike sink to the ground as you jump off and slide over to the bag. You fish out a wallet and, sure enough, it’s hers. You’re dialing Sylus before you even realize your phone is in your hand. Your grip on her bag makes the leather crack.

“She’s gone.”

The phone had barely stopped ringing before you spoke. 

“I know.”

The strap of her leather bag melts in your palm as you grind your teeth. It’s been years since your evol has acted damn near sentient and if you weren’t so terrified of losing her, you’d be terrified of the heat building deep in your chest. 

“You what?”

“Turn around Rafayel. And get in.”

You turn around to see Sylus pull up in his Corvette. You run to the passenger side and jump in. Sylus slams his foot down on the gas and glances at your hand, the stench of burnt leather filling the small space. You finally look down and start peeling away the charred fabric, tossing her bag into the glove compartment.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘you know’?”

Sylus swerves and takes a back alley, cutting across a small patch of grass to the highway. 

“I mean, I got a call. Maybe 15 minutes ago, with an offer to let her go if I take her place.”

You close your eyes, trying desperately to stop the raging fire in your chest from breaking out. You feel something around your wrists tighten and you open your eyes to see wispy tendrils wrapping around your wrists. Your composure snaps. You lunge towards Sylus but are pushed back against the seat, the strands of Sylus’s evol wrap around you even tighter.

“Rafayel, I came here as soon as I got off the call. I wasn’t about to tell you this over the phone. I also wasn’t going to let you go searching for her alone. Now calm the fuck down.”

A growl shakes your chest as you struggle against the bindings. It only made you more angry that he was right. Your phone would have probably melted in your hand if he had called you with this news. Still, you struggle and thrash. Finally, your anger calms, leaving a dull ache in your chest as you stop resisting.

“Feel better?”

The tendrils of energy slowly spiral back towards Sylus, evaporating under the sleeve of his suit jacket. His grip on the steering wheel tightens and you stare at him. 

“What did you do?”

Sylus takes another sharp turn and you slam into the door. You’re suddenly glad he didn’t bring his bike or you’d be thrown into a building. 

“I slipped through their fingers.”

You secure your seatbelt before turning to face him again.

“What?”

“I came through the Deepspace Tunnel. The Fleet were supposed to stop me and couldn’t. I embarrassed them and now they’ll do anything to get to me.”

“Even kidnap an innocent person?”

Sylus scoffs, the sound would usually infuriate you, but something about his demeanor tells you he is barely keeping it together himself. 

“I don’t think they give a fuck about legalities anymore. Not since they aligned themselves with Ever.”

The name makes your blood boil hotter. Sylus takes a turn too fast and skids into the opposing lanes, horns blare and a siren wails. You turn to see a police car approaching. Just as you’re about to speak you see the police car fly across the street into a light pole. Those same wispy tendrils of energy slinking back into the car as Sylus takes another turn. 

“Fuck, Sylus!”

You face forward and press your head back on the headrest. 

“Sy…”

“I know. We’re getting her back. I promise.”

The man in front of you isn’t Caleb. It can’t be. He has the same soft brown hair, galaxy eyes and dimples, but there’s no way this is your Caleb. 

You knew he was acting distant since his return from the Deepspace Tunnel, he’d barely texted you. Which, looking back, should have been a massive red flag given how involved he usually was in your life. Ever since he transferred from the DAA, he’s been acting strange, more secretive and his usual silly sarcasm has had a sharp edge. He never meant to hurt your feelings, but his sudden bursts of anger would take you by surprise and leave you heartbroken. 

With your wrists cleaned and bandaged, Caleb secures them to the arms of your chair with zip ties. He did his best to clean the blood off your legs and offered you a change of clothes, if you hadn’t been giving him the silent treatment you may have accepted them. 

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

You laugh. The sound surprised Caleb and yourself. 

“I mean it. Isaac went too far. His pride was hurt and he took it out on you.”

“And you killed him for it?”

Your question lingers in the air, Caleb’s face hardening as he looks over your shoulder. You flat out refuse to even entertain the idea of looking, you may have hated Isaac’s guts but you didn’t want to see them. Caleb pulls his gun from his holster and takes his handkerchief from the breast pocket of his uniform, he carefully starts cleaning the blood from the barrel. 

“He hurt you. End of story.”

“Oh, so anyone who hurts me is going to get shot?”

Caleb stands suddenly, holsters his gun and plants his hands on your knees, leaning in until all you can see is him. You try to back away, but he grabs your chin and holds you still. 

“Worse. If I have the time.”

His words send a shiver down your spine. You slowly meet his gaze and see him staring at your lips. You jerk your head from side to side trying to break free of his grasp, but he just lifts his other hand to hold the back of your head. He rests his forehead against yours and sighs.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

“You keep saying that, but how, exactly, was it ‘supposed to be’ Caleb?”

Caleb releases you and turns on his heel. He circles behind his chair and rests his hands on the back. He hangs his head low and lets out a soft laugh. 

“You, safe, with me. Sylus, dead. And Rafayel?”

Your heart stops. 

“Too many people would notice a celebrity disappearing. But if authorities believe you, his most recent ‘fling,’ killed him?”

He lifts his head and meets your gaze.

“You could live in Skyhaven, with a new identity, a fresh start. With me.”

Your eyes burn as they fill with tears.

“You’re… insane…”

Even as a whisper, Caleb hears you loud and clear. He stands tall, crossing his arms.

“I think that’s you, pips.”

Maybe he’s right, because you snap.

“Don’t you fucking call me that!” You scream. “You murdered someone! You want to frame me for murder! Just so you can control me and keep me locked away in some fucking cage!”

Caleb’s jaw tenses.

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not my Caleb! You’re a monster!”

He shoves the chair in front of him aside, sending it straight into a wall. He lunges at you, his hands press against the sides of your face.

“You don’t get to call me a monster when you’ve slept with two!”

Your eyes widen and you sob. Caleb releases you and stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. It feels like hours before you finally stop crying. How did he know? What happened to him? You finally straighten in your chair and lean back, forcing yourself to stuff your feelings down and focus on finding a way out of this.

You dig your nails into the arms of your chair when you hear the soft click of the door opening behind you. Slow and steady footsteps approach you and you feel large hands settle on your shoulders. You know it’s Caleb from the additional force you feel of his evol holding you down.

“I’m sorry…”

You don’t respond.

“I was supposed to protect you. I should have…” He clears his throat. “I failed you. I’m sorry.”

You close your eyes to stop the tears that threaten to fall once again. 

“The Fleet is… I… I have to…”

Before he can continue, an alarm blares. Caleb’s hands squeeze your shoulders and he lets out a sigh. You feel his warmth slowly slip away as he turns to leave, the door locking behind you. You test the strength of the zip ties and try to stand only to realize the chair is bolted to the floor. You groan and try to bend forward to chew on the plastic ties. 

Then you smell it.

You turn around in your chair, purposefully turning in the opposite direction of the body. Smoke slowly seeps in beneath the door. You turn back around and strain your neck to latch onto the plastic tie with your teeth, you need to get out. Now.

The room slowly fills with smoke, making you cough. You try to take small breaths, but the further you bend forward the more pressure you place on your injured rib cage, leaving you gasping. You’ve just about chewed through one of your restraints when your vision starts to blur. You’re so close, your hand is almost free, just a few more seconds…

The door behind you bursts open and you scream. You can hear the snaps and pops of a fire and a huge cloud of smoke fills the room. You yank your arms back and forth, desperate to free yourself. Heat envelopes your back and you turn to see the edges of the flames creep forward towards the door. You don’t even realize another person is in the room with you until a set of hands touch your wrists. 

Your screams turn to strangled coughs as you kick your legs weakly. The person dodges your kicks and presses their legs together, stopping your legs from moving entirely. You feel a searing heat against your wrists for a split second before your hands are pulled upward, finally freed. The person reaches for your waist and lifts you. Your chest burns and your eyes are sealed shut against the heat, you’re too weak to fight. You try to push the person away, but they only hold you tighter, dipping their face down to your ear.

“Hold onto me, cutie!”

You let out a single elated sob before everything fades to black.

Slow and steady beeping pulls you back to consciousness. You open your eyes cautiously, squinting against the stream of sunshine coming in from the large bay windows. You look around the small room, surprisingly, you’re not in a hospital. Unless Akso got Egyptian cotton bedding and crystal chandeliers. 

You turn your head and take in the rest of the room. A fireplace filled with tall red candles, what looks to be a real mahogany desk covered with various medical supplies, a medical waste bin and a vitals monitor. You turn your head to get a better look at the monitor when you notice the man seated beside you. Rafayel is fast asleep, hunched over the side of the bed holding your hand. You try to smile, but your jaw twitches and you whimper. 

“Doc can give you something for that.”

You turn your head towards the voice and see Sylus standing in the corner of the room, shrouded in shadow. You blink rapidly and try to lift your head to get a better look. You’re still not sure any of this is even real.

Sylus steps forward into the light and strolls over to your bed. He carefully sits down and looks over his shoulder at Rafayel.

“He hasn’t slept since we found you, let him rest a little longer before you wake him up.”

You nod and reach for Sylus. He takes your hand and rubs his thumb over your knuckles. His gentle touch sends a shiver down your spine and you finally take a deep breath. You’re safe.

“Where am I?”

Sylus smiles. 

“One of my safe houses. We use this one when we need the doc. It’s close to his, quote-unquote, legal job.”

You’re about to ask who’s the doc when the door opens and you nearly have a coughing fit when you see Zayne walk in. You clasp a hand over your mouth to stop yourself and Sylus leans over to get a glass of water from the side table. He brings the glass to your lips and you take tiny sips, letting the cold water soothe your sore throat.

Zayne walks over and Sylus stands to give him space to work. You don’t let go of his hand, you hold on and look at him with pleading eyes. He sits back down and gives Zayne an apologetic look. Zayne’s expression remains unchanged, he adjusts his glasses before leaning down to place his stethoscope on your chest.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

You follow his instructions and stare at him, you have a thousand questions. Zayne notices your death glare and a rare smile appears. 

“You’re not the only one with secrets.”

You huff as he places his stethoscope over his neck and checks the bandages on your wrists.

“Are you a racer too?”

He chuckles under his breath.

“No.”

“Then why…”

“No more questions, you need to rest.”

You frown and hiss when Zayne unwraps the bandage around your head. He walks over to the desk to replace his gloves and get fresh gauze. You squeeze Sylus’s hand.

“I’ll tell you later, you heard the doc, rest.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t protest. Zayne returns to your bedside and dabs at your forehead with a swab. You try to flinch away, but he cups your chin with a steady hand and you try your best to hold still. He finishes cleaning your wound and turns to throw away the bloody bandages in the medical waste bin. 

“I’ll put a new bandage on later, some fresh air will be good for it. Do you need any pain medication?”

You shake your head.

“She’s lying.”

You open your mouth to shush him, but as soon as your jaw extends you nearly shout from the pain. Rafayel groans quietly and you bite your lip. Sylus acknowledges your silent resignation and looks over at Zayne.

“She needs something, maybe Naproxen? I doubt she’d want Morphine.”

You shake your head furiously and Zayne nods.

“I’ll bring you something. Try not to talk too much, your jaw is still quite swollen.”

He opens the door and looks back at you, the dark circles under his eyes make you tear up. You’ve worried everyone in this room, they’ve all lost sleep trying to take care of you. He quietly closes the door behind him.

“So…”

Sylus tilts his head.

“So?”

You frown and Sylus chuckles softly.

“I helped Zayne a few years ago. He had a problem and I fixed it. He’ll try to tell you I saved his life, but I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Is he okay now?”

Sylus nods.

“He started helping us out as a way to repay me, but now… I think he likes it - working for me. I definitely pay better than his stuffy hospital job.”

You look over at Rafayel, he scrunches his nose and sighs in his sleep.

“He thinks I’ll steal you from him.”

You gasp and look over at Sylus again. Your eyes widen as he releases your hand and stands. He walks over to the window and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“Rafayel and I have always enjoyed a… healthy rivalry. We’re both possessive and when we want something, we get it.”

He lowers his head and stares at the ground.

“I lost someone… a few years ago. Made me reckless. Rafayel was the only one who didn’t treat me like I was made of glass.”

Sylus turns and walks to the end of the bed. He rests his hands on the bed frame and looks up at you. That look again, your chest tightens.

“Seeing me with you, I think he’s afraid I’ll want you all to myself.”

“Do you?”

You’re not sure why you asked, you’re terrified of the answer, but you need to know.

“I’m not the kind of man to pine after someone who loves another.”

A wave of relief washes over you almost instantly replaced by guilt. You shouldn’t be happy, but at this moment, you’ve never been more sure of your love for Rafayel. Your heart belongs to him and you can only hope that one day Sylus finds someone who makes him feel whole again. 

“You loved them. The person you lost.”

He forces a smile. 

“I’m heading back to the N109 Zone. Don’t be a stranger, Bakeneko. And for fucks sake, tell the poor man you love him already.”

Sylus leaves before you can stop him. Your heart aches for him, and even though you can’t explain it, you’re sure he’ll find love again. Just like you found Rafayel. You feel the bed shift beside you and look over to see Rafayel lift his head. He rubs his eyes and groans as he stretches.

“Hey sleepyhead.”

His eyes snap open and he leans forward, almost falling out of his chair.

“You’re awake! Fuck… you’re awake…” 

He stumbles as he stands and wraps an arm around you, his face nuzzles into your neck.

“You’re okay…”

You run your hand along his arm and kiss his shoulder. You hear a soft crinkle sound and pull back to stare at his shoulder. You lift your hand and touch his shoulder, feeling a bandage under his shirt.

“Are you hurt? What happened?”

He laughs and sits back on the bed beside you.

“No, no I’m okay.”

You tug on his arm. He rolls his eyes as he pulls his sleeve up to show a bandage.

“I’m not hurt, I got a tattoo.”

You let out a relieved sigh and sit up straight as it dawns on you. 

“Your appointment?”

He nods. He slowly peels the bandage away and what’s underneath leaves you speechless.

“Is that…”

“Your bite mark? Yup.”

You stare at him, your eyes bouncing between the tattoo and his eyes. His smile widens, showing his bejeweled canines. 

“You left your mark, literally. I wanted it with me, always.”

“I love you.”

Rafayel’s face goes from obnoxious to flustered in an instant, a blush creeping up his neck. You reach up to hold his face. 

“I love you Rafayel.”

He closes the distance and presses his lips to yours. You don’t even try to hold it together, you sigh into the kiss and whimper as he slips his tongue into your mouth. His hands trace the sides of your neck and thread into your hair. Your arms wrap around his neck and he nearly falls on top of you. You break the kiss to gasp, your lunges desperate for air.

“I love you too. God, I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your neck as he repeats his declaration over and over. You know now that you’ve never truly been in love before, the pure bliss you feel at this very moment proves it. Your heart belongs to him, and his heart belongs to you. 

Your jaw starts to ache from smiling so much and you wince. Rafayel pulls back and gently touches the bruise with his thumb. 

“Do you need pain meds? Ice? I’ll get it for you.”

He stands and you use the last of your strength to pull him back onto the bed.

“Zayne is getting me something for the pain. I just need you.”

He turns to sit properly in the bed beside you. He tucks his arm under your head and you curl up close to his side. You brace yourself to ask a question that’s been gnawing at you since you woke up. 

“What happened to Caleb?”

Rafayel tenses and squeezes your shoulder. 

“I need to know, Rafayel. He… please?”

Rafayel lets out a deep sigh and kisses your forehead.

“Sylus grabbed him, but, Caleb, you said his name was?” You nod. “His evol knocked us down. Sylus shot him, but the last time I saw him he was still breathing.”

“When was that?”

You couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice or the tears that rolled down your cheeks. You needed to know, no matter how painful it would be.

“Right before I set the place on fire.”

You gasp and look up at him. 

“I didn’t mean to, I… He was talking about taking you away and I… I lost it.”

You held his hand tightly, afraid that if you let go he’ll lose control again.

“I don’t know what happened to him. I’m sorry.”

You barely stifle a sob. He brushes your hair back with his hand and you try to match his breathing. You close your eyes and let him comfort you.

“Let me take you home.”

“Uhh… maybe we should stay at my apartment? I have a bigger bed and –”

“No, let me take you to our home.”

You look up at him confused. 

“I’ve been having my beach house renovated the past few weeks. For us. So we could… I mean if you wanted to…”

“Your beach house? For us?”

His ears are nearly scarlet and you can’t help but giggle. You ignore the pain in your jaw as you smile wildly. 

“You’re my home, Rafayel.”

You run your thumb over his cheek, catching the tears that fall. 

“I’ll go wherever you go.”

AN #2: I LOVE CALEB OKAY, but he made the perfect villain for this. And I left it open ended with him so who knows... If you haven't guessed, in this AU there is no MC. Each boy has their own so there's no fighting over who gets MC in this here fanfic series! I have an epilogue planned and a sequel that focuses on Sylus. Please COMMENT if you want to remain on the Inked Taglist and get notified when those come out. I absolutely love this story and the world I have built and I am glad others are finding joy reading along. Thank you so so much for the support. Oh, and 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝑅𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓁❣

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @spacegrotesk @namjoonseuphoria @celestialforce @rafshottestgf @oxamarok @withering-dream @zaynessbeloved @animecrazy76 @yournextdoorhousewitch @hauntedbysmut @addiglessthanthree @4ttack-ur-heart @moonberry69 @pandoras-rabbit @cookiesaresquishy @hamnaalien @needlewandandthimble @brekkers-whore @goddexxluv @satansdaughter123 @poisonf0rest @darkalleycat1987 @morrigan87 @never-justforever @ericherries @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname @alastor-simp @withering-dream @stellar-seas

[3fingersofscotch]

When Two Worlds Collide

Pairing: M/M/F Rafayel x Sylus x AFAB Reader

Summary: You neglect your bodyguard duties because Sylus asked you out on a date. But when Rafayel shows up at the same Gala, Sylus looks at him like a pretty thing worth collecting.

******

Or you peg the shit out of Rafayel while Sylus watches and a whole bunch of other fun.

Happy Birthday, Rafayel! My beautiful lemurian, love... please let me peg you.

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI! Threesome, extremely smutty with enough plot to make you feel good about it, Blow Jobs, Pegging, Drunk Sex, Penis in Vagina Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Pussy Eating, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism.

Ao3- 3fingers_of_scotch

You must ask for permission to repost on other platforms.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated anywhere.

Its hard to get used to this level of extravagance.

Staring at a set of broad shoulders adorned by an immaculately tailored heather gray sports coat you feel so out of place. You were doing your best to try and hid your awkwardness and match Sylus’s cool demeanor every time he looks down at you to check in.

You finger the bespoke black gown Sylus insisted that you wear tonight—bedazzled with jewels that felt they were worth more than your life when he turns back around and places a glass of champagne in your hand.

“Little dove, you look tense,” Sylus observes casually as he pulls you closer to his side.

You fix your face, smiling as you take for first sip of sweet champagne. Too sweet and cheap clearly, as it leaves a less than desirable aftertaste on your tongue.

You’ve grown accustom to Sylus’s penchant of skinship. It bothered you at first, the way he’d reach out nonchalantly drape his arm around you, or ticklishly finger your waist. But today, you lean into him, a small sigh of relief escaping you as you feel reassured by his presence.

“I’m fine, Sylus,” you reassure as you take another sip of the cheap swill they had the audacity to serve after Sylus has donated millions of dollars to… uh… wait.

“So, Sylus. You never told me why we are here at this Gala.”

You look up, barely catching a grimace as he discreetly spits the questionable hors d'oeuvres into a napkin.

“I donated a few million towards the Arts District in Linkon after the big flood. The money went towards renovating the Fine Arts Museum, the symphony hall, the opera house… And the restoration of one of Rafayel’s pieces.”

You choke on you cheap champagne. “Rafayel’s pieces?”

Sylus looks down, smirking slightly. “Yes, your little artist boyfriend’s piece ‘Siren’s Demise’ was water damaged in the flood.”

You flush indignantly. “He isn’t my boyfriend. How do you know that I know him, anyway?”

He flashes you a knowing look and you realize of course, that Mephisto definitely gave you away.

Sylus takes both of your glasses of unfinished, cheap champagne and handing them to nearby wait staff before casually remarking, “If he isn’t your boyfriend, he wants to be. Speak of the devil.”

You whip your head around, and sure enough, Rafayel stands next to his restored painting, looking chic in black slacks and what was probably a blouse from the women’s section.

“Hey, cutie,” Rafayel’s smile disappears from his face when he spots Sylus. Crossing his arms, he huffs, refusing to look in your direction.

“When you said that you couldn’t bodyguard for me tonight, I didn’t know you were going to be hanging out with a crime lord.”

What?

You can practically here the rumble in Sylus’s chest as he chuckles with amusement.

“Sweetie… you didn’t tell me your little boyfriend was a Lemurian.”

Again… what?

Both of your heads whip around, staring at Sylus in shock as that devilish smirk grows broader.

“What? I know a Lemurian when I see one. So… pretty. I can almost smell the attitude and sparkling scales.”

Rafayel flushes heatedly.

“Well, I know a Philosian when I see one.”

You whip around in shock once more. “What?”

“Ashy haired, tall… handsome bastards… the whole lot of you.” Rafayel turns to storm off in a huff and without thinking, you give chase.

“Raf!” Its difficult to catch up in heels, but when you do, you find him sulking in a corner trying to collect himself so that the press doesn’t see.

“Rafayel, are you ok-“

“He just had to be so fucking tall. And handsome. I want to slap his stupid handsome face,” Rafayel mutters under his breath.

“Oh, come on. Is it really so bad that I’m out with another friend?” You ask, rolling your eyes.

“When they are that handsome? Yes. How am I supposed to compete with that?” He looks even more agitated as he brushes his hair out his eyes. “And why does he have to be so fucking tall?”

Both of you practically jump out of your skin as Sylus suddenly appears behind you.

“I really had no say in how tall I’d grow. Maybe you should have eaten your vegetables?” Sylus jokes, but it doesn’t do a lick to eliminate the tension in the air.

Rafayel’s scowl grows as you spot the paparazzi approaching from behind Sylus’s broad shoulders.

“Ugh, I don’t think I can deal with your arrogant ass and Delphy at the same time.” Raf tries to storm off when Sylus reaches out to stop him.

“Arrogant?” Sylus tries to sound offended, but you can tell he is amused. “I haven’t spoken but 50 words to you. I’m already arrogant?”

Rafayel looks more and more agitated, pulling his elbow out of Sylus’s grip and glaring at Delphy as she approaches closer still with that ridiculous camera and the better than you grin she always seemed to wear when she caught wind of a story.

You suddenly double over feigning pain.

“I don’t feel so good,” you whimper. “I think those ghastly hors d’oeuvres did me in.”

Both bickering men rush to your aid, gently supporting your weight. Sylus grabs his phone, calling a car to be brought around to the front immediately as Rafayel soothingly strokes your back.

“You okay?” He whispers into your ear.

“Play along. Let’s get out of here before I deck that bitch,” you whisper back and Rafayel grins before picking you up bridal style.

“Everyone! Out of the way! There is something wrong with the food!” Rafayel shouts as he runs out the front door towards the car Sylus called for you and suddenly, the 3 of you are packed into the back of a small luxury limo with no plan.

Sylus looks at Rafayel with obvious amusement as Rafayel began to visibly panic, having not thought of what could happen next.

“Uh… you can let me out on the corner,” Rafayel manages to stammer, grabbing the door handle and trying urgently to let himself out.

“The child safety lock is on. We can’t get out,” Sylus remarks with a sly smile before shifting his gaze to you.

“Well kitten, our fun got cut short. I wouldn’t mind starting over elsewhere. Your little boyfriend can join.”

For a moment, the car is silent and you can’t help but notice Rafayel not interjecting about not being your boyfriend, Sylus’s earlier teasing replaying in your head.

‘If he isn’t your boyfriend, he wants to be.’

Rafayel’s ear burn bright red, his arms crossed as he sits and simmers in silence.

“Rafayel? Do you… do you want to hang out a bit?” You watch as your bratty lemurian friend softens, arms falling to his side, although his gaze remains fixed out the window.

“For you. If you are the one asking,” Rafayel mumbles. “And there better be food involved. The Gala food was… appalling.”

“That, we can agree on,” Sylus remarks, tapping on the partition. As it lowers, he asks the driver to make a quick stop for takeout.

It occurs to you a plan really hadn’t been laid out, but in a few minutes, the car stops and suddenly smells delicious and a few more minutes later, it stops again in front of one of Sylus’s safe houses.

And before you knew it, the three of you were sitting in the dining room, the same awkward silence from the car ride following you here as you watch two worlds collide.

At least the food was good.

Rafayel continued to glare and Sylus continued to smirk and you continued to nervously look back and forth, racking your brain for ways to alleviate the tension when you spot a bottle of gin.

Alcohol. Perfect.

You shove one final dumpling in your mouth and it seems everyone had an idea to get up at the same time. You stand, Rafayel stands, Sylus stands and you all freeze for a moment before Sylus puts a vinyl record on an antique gramophone.

Rhapsody in Blue swells- the kickoff- a playful tune of the clarinet and the environment suddenly feels very American Prohibition. Fitting, given Sylus’s love of Gin Fizz.

Rafayel follows you to the kitchen as you ice 3 martini glasses and pull out ingredients to make the only non-martini gin cocktail you know how to make… a southside.

“So…” Rafayel says, tone leaning more towards playful. “When did you get cozy with the leader of a criminal syndicate?”

You slap fresh mint loudly between your palms to release the aroma before dropping it into the cocktail shaker.

“You’re the one that sent me into the N109 zone, Raf. You shouldn’t be surprised that I made a few friends along the way.”

Gin, lime juice, simple syrup and ice join the mint and you shake until the metal in your hands becomes so cold it hurts. The ice water chilling the glasses gets tossed into the sink, replaced with the cocktail and garnished with additional mint.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he says with a smile, head shifting to the side causing purple bang to tumble into his eyes. “But the Sylus… you make interesting friends.”

Rafayel reaches for a fresh cocktail, lifting it to his lips and sipping carefully.

“I wasn’t expecting him to be… good looking in person,” he remarks, humming in approval as he takes another sip.

“Talking about me?” Sylus drawls from right behind Rafayel causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

“Holy SHIT!” Rafayel sets his southside down and rinses the liquor off his hands in the sink. “You walk around like a sneaky… cat. I hate cats.”

“Sorry to disturb you.” Sylus’s apology sounds empty as he reaches for a cocktail as well, eyeballing you up and down.

“Pet. You look both stunning… and uncomfortable in that gown. There are some spare clothes in the guest room down the hall and to the left if you’d like to get comfy.”

You release the breath you had no idea you were holding.

“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t thinking about it. This dress is heavy.” You down the rest of your drink as Sylus’s fingers trace the jewels on your side.

“Hmm… yes. Well, you are wearing nearly a million dollars in rubies,” he nearly purrs in your ear. You refuse to look Rafayel’s way as you here him sputter, spilling his drink once more.

“Uh… yes. I guess I will be right back.” You practically rush down the hall with plans to return quickly, but your dress is too heavy and difficult to remove. It takes 5 minutes and a seam ripper to wriggle out of it and when you are free, you are hot and red in the face and need a minute to cool down. The entire time, you worry about how awkward conversation might be while you are gone.

To your surprise however, the two seemed to have made themselves more comfortable. Sylus’s coat and tie were draped over a chair with Rafayel’s belt and Rafayel looked a bit disheveled with his blouse untucked and lightly wrinkled.

“Sweetie, these were good. How did you make them?” Sylus brandishes an empty glass.

Maybe this night wouldn’t be completely awkward.

A few more rounds of liquid courage 17 topics later and you find yourself draped on the couch, back firmly pressed against Sylus’s chest and legs in Rafayel’s lap and the way their fingers brush less than innocently against your skin makes you tingle.

“Alright, I’ll be honest… I’m having a good time,” Rafayel admits, the tips of his ears burning from the alcohol. “I appreciate the rescue. I hate these galas.”

“Mmm, yeah. It did get a lot better, didn’t it?” You can feel Sylus’ chest rumble as he speak and more than your skin tingles as his hand sneaks under your shirt so that his thumb can rub soft circles on your waist.

There are a lot of things that you want to blurt out loud, but the alcohol has made your IQ drop at least 10 points and you choose to keep your mouth shut so that you don’t regret your words tomorrow morning.

Rafayel throws back the last of his drink before chuckling and leaning back, squeezing your thigh.

“So…” He asks more towards Sylus than you. “You didn’t really have to rescue me. So, I guess what I am trying to say is that I appreciate it. But… also, why?”

Rafayel’s eyes dart to the exposed skin around your stomach where your shirt has ridden up. You tense slightly as the mood shifts.

“Oh… maybe because you are almost as pretty as she is.”

Rafayel’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Are you… hitting on me?”

Oh… oh dear.

You feel the grip Rafayel has on your thighs become almost painfully tight.

“Isn’t he pretty, kitten?” Sylus whispers in your ear, his lips tickling your earlobe and making you shiver.

You nod as Rafayel’s eyes darken.

“I… I‘m not sober enough for this conversation. I should go…” Rafayel drawls slowly, but fails to remove himself from the couch.

“Oh… I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of you while drunk,” Sylus remarks as his lips begin to trail down the side of your neck.

Rafayel leans forward, his gaze fixed to the wet trail Sylus leaves on your skin. You stare at him in turn. He looks nothing short of famished. He is a thirsty man in a desert and he looks at you like you are a tall glass of water.

“I am very aware of one thing…” Sylus’s lips begin to explore the other side of your neck and you whimper, causing Rafayel’s grip to now become painful.

“You’d want her sober.”

Oh, shit.

Rafayel leans in closer, drawn like a moth to the flame as he watched Sylus do all the things he wished he could do to your body.

“Maybe,” Sylus’s hand reaches up your shirt to caress your breast and you moan, twisting as the heat between your legs becomes uncomfortable. “Maybe, I just want to watch two pretty people touch each other.”

The only word to describe the expression on Rafayel’s face is slutty. He leans in, lips ghosting over yours before asking, “Only if it’s okay with you?”

You answer by pulling lips firmly against your and your world flips upside down as everyone suddenly shifts. Sylus pulls your ass flush against his cock, leaning back, his hand still firmly grasping your breast under your shirt and pulling you back with him. Rafayel responds in kind, crawling on hands and knees so that your lips stay locked.

“I’ve always wanted you,” Rafayel practically whimpers against your lips as Sylus’s hands wander into your shorts. You tremble as your lips part and Rafayel’s tongue wrestles with yours as he pulls your shorts off.

“Hmm, eager?” Sylus’s teases as Rafayel crouches, hastily kissing up your thighs. You whimper petulantly as Sylus’s fingers test your folds before moving to tease your clit.

“Seem you aren’t the only one,” Sylus groans. “Kitten, you are so wet.”

Rafayel smacks Sylus’s hand away, his tongue lapping your clit as Sylus pulls your shirt over your head to kiss across your shoulders.

“Mmm,” Sylus murmurs against the back of your neck. “He is feral. I like it. Do you like it kitten?”

“Yes!” Your hands grip Rafayel’s hair as he begins to slowly pump two fingers inside you and continues to diligently lap at your clit. “I… oh, God! I love it!”

Rafayel moans between your legs. “I finally know how you taste. I can’t get enough.” He nuzzles as he laps, nose buried tightly in your navel and his fingers pick up the pace causing you to buck and yelp.

Sylus shifts, rutting against your ass and you realize just how huge he feels against you, causing you to shudder.

Rafayel suddenly applies rhythmic pressure to your navel with the palm of your hand and you can’t help but shriek as he fingers pump faster as he still works your clit with his tongue.

“FUCK! Fuckfuckfuckfuck… gonna cum! Gonna cum!” Your thighs tighten, gripping Rafayel’s head, but it won’t stop him as his tongue continues to carry you through your orgasm and then some.

“That’s it, kitty. Let us hear you,” Sylus coos into your ear before nibbling your earlobe.

Your body quakes from overstimulation as Rafayel continues. Your toes curl, your grip on his hair tightens and you continue to cry out your bliss as the two men clutching you react.

Rafayel finally surfaces for air, kissing a trail up your abdomen before his lips find yours. You taste yourself on him as brings your hand to feel his arousal straining against his pants.

“Little dove… did he do good?” Sylus rumbles and you nod, whimpering as you still try to catch your breath.

“Then maybe he deserves a reward, hmm? But what kind?”

“Fuck,” Rafayel groans against your lips. “Please,” he begs, voice dripping with need.

Sylus stands with you in his arms and tugs on Rafayel’s shirt.

“Bedroom.”

Your panting echoes in the hallway as Sylus carries you to the master suite. He gently sets you down on the bed before reaching for a drawer and pulling out straps.

Rafayel joins you on the bed, lips kissing arbitrary patterns across your skins for a moment before gasping upon realizing what Sylus was pulling out of its plastic packaging.

“A strap-on? You serious?” Rafayel stammers, eye wide as the dart back and forth between you and Sylus.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Sylus says, eyes challenging. “Look me in the eye and you tell me you wouldn’t absolutely love being taken from behind by her.”

You playfully hold the strap on up, modeling it against your hips.

“I’m down.”

Rafayel’s breath catches in his throat. “Fuck.” Beautiful rosy and blue eyes flick back and forth between you and Sylus before he casts his eyes downward, eyes hidden behind long eyelashes. Palming his face, he takes a deep breath and looks at you once more.

“Fuuuck.”

“Do you want it, Rafayel?” You ask as he sighs burying his in his hands.

“Oh… he wants it,” Sylus responds, eye glowing as he reads Rafayel’s desires.

You lean in closer, lips gently and sweetly pressing against his as Rafayel pulls you closer against him. You trace soothing patterns across his back until he squeezes you tighter.

“You… you don’t think its weird?” he asks hesitantly as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I think it’s hot.”

“FUCK!” You feel Rafayel’s cock jump in his pants. “Yes. Yes. I want it.”

Its your turn to flip Rafayel’s world upside down and you do it with glee as you suck red marks across his neck. You cup his erection through is pants and as your teeth begin to nip his collar bone, you unzip his pants and slide them down with his boxers.

His cock weeps, pre-cum dripping as you grasp and pump it with slow but firm strokes, causing to hiss as he rutted into your hand.

“Shhh. Let me look at you. Take off your shirt.” Rafayel rips his shirt off, and tosses off to the corner and he is flush, panting with blown pupils. His skin is creamy and you nibble near his belly button and tease your way down.

“God, please,” he whimpers as grips the bedspread tightly. “I’ve… I’ve waited so long.”

You glance over at Sylus who made himself comfortable in an armchair, content to watch you touch his Lemurian guest.

“Lube?”

Sylus gestures to the small bottle on the bed next to the strap on. You reach for it, coating your fingers generously before circling Rafayel’s little pink, puckered star.

Rafayel shivers in anticipation when your lips kiss the head of his pretty cock. He was so worked up; it was almost purple like his hair.

“Please-“ he begins to beg when you take his full length in your mouth and push your middle finger in at the same time.

“Oh god!” He sobs, back arching against the bed sharply. You push his hips down against the bed and hold him still as your head slowly bobs up and down his length, finger pumping a bit faster.

“Fuck… yes… so good,” he cries and encouraged, you slip another finger in, scissoring and stretching him out as he sobs with pleasure.

Its feels empowering reducing a Lemurian to tears of pleasure and you relax your jaw, taking his beautiful, weeping cock all the way, his cock entering your esophagus. And with your nose buried deep in a small patch of purple hair, you take a deep breath before your long tongue slowly extend outward to lick his balls causing him to suddenly sit up and grip your hair tightly.

“Kitten… I had no idea you were so talented.” Sylus remarks with clear amusement.

“I… fuuuuck… I didn’t even know this was possible,” Rafayel pants, eyes wild with disbelief.

You slurp on his cock loudly as you return to your rhythm, humming with enthusiasm as your fingers continue to scissor and his hands clench your hair tighter.

He moans and moans until he suddenly grows quiet and you know its because he is just about to tip over the edge when you pull back, causing him to whimper, nearly pouting as he is denied his orgasm.

“Soon,” You promise as you equip yourself with the strap-on.

“Oh, God. Th-this is really happening,” Rafayel stutters.

“Only of you want it to happen,” you reassure before he shakes his head.

“Please. I need this,” he groans as he gets on his hands and knees.

“Facing me,” Sylus directs and Rafayel shifts. “I want to see both of your faces.”

You coat the dildo generously with lube before settling behind Rafayel, your heart pounding in anticipation. You kiss soft trails across his back reassuringly as you slowly push the dildo inside him, causing him to hiss with pleasure.

“He looks so pretty on his hands and knees, doesn’t he, sweetie?” Sylus remarks with mirth.

“Mmm, so pretty. You ready for me to move, pretty baby?” You ask and Rafayel nods as he gasps.

Your hands move to firmly grip his waist and you move, rearing back before carefully pushing forward.

“Good?” You ask as he mewls.

“God, YES!” He cries and its more than enough for you to set an impressive pace, fucking him the way you’ve always wanted to be fucked. With every few thrusts, you change angles slightly, hoping to find his sweet spot. You relish the sounds each thrust elicits when suddenly-

“OH, FUCK! OH, GOD!”

You found it.

A goal. A singular goal. You picture the spot in your head and proceed to ram the ever-loving-shit out of it as Sylus roars with approval.

“If you could just see the slutty look on his pretty face, kitten.”

You could picture it in your head and you bite your lip as beautiful scales reveal themselves around his neck and down his back.

You continue what can only be described as sensuous assault against Rafayel’s prostate when his elbows give out and he plops down, face buried in the sheets. You lose the angle, but only for a second and as you adjust and find it. As you pound into it, he cries out louder.

You see his elbow began to move, matching the pace you’ve set and you give his ass a sharp, stinging slap.

“Oh, he wants to touch himself so badly, kitten,” Sylus remarks, but its obvious in the way Rafayel sobs wantonly into the sheets beneath him.

You lean forward, gripping his hair firmly, turning his head just enough so that he can see you.

“You are going to cum because I fucked the shit out of you. No touching yourself.” Rafayel nods and cries out louder as you resume your pace.

“Please! Please! I’m so close!” Rafayel sobs and you hit that sweet spot with more enthusiasm when his body starts to quake.

“That’s it,” Sylus hums as he strokes himself over his pants and you hear cum splatter against the sheets underneath you.

“Good boy,” You coo, leaning to kiss across Rafayel’s back as he continues to cum on the sheets and you reach between his legs to stroke out the rest.

“God, Raf. You are so pretty when you come,” Sylus hums as he rises, stripping himself of clothing quickly as Rafayel collapses on the bed.

The strap on is ripped off in second and Sylus suddenly pins you to the bed, shoulder to shoulder with Raf and he pushes your lips to his.

You kiss him sweetly as he pants beside you and Sylus positions himself between your legs.

“That was so hot, I don’t think I’m going to last at all,” Sylus groans through gritted teeth, but he plunges inside you with zeal, leaning over to pull Raf closer for a three-way kiss as you moan, legs circling him.

Fuck… finally. You feel so full, his cock stretching you out blissfully, hitting all of the right spots and you realize you aren’t going to last long either. At some point you said it out loud, but your lips become pre-occupied with Raf’s once more and you moan into his mouth as Sylus grunts and uses your body, seeking the relief he’d been denying himself up to this point.

“Fuck, kitten! This is bliss,” Sylus sinks his teeth into the flesh around your pulse point and the pain causes your pussy to throb as he takes you roughly.

“Fuck! Oh! Ohh!” You cry-out, back arching as he hits that spot that makes you see stars over and over.

Raf, still a puddle of goo, reaches over to rub your clit and its game over. You feel your pussy throb violently as you cry out with pleasure, legs shaking around Sylus as he groans with approval.

“Goddamn…” He pants, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Should I pull out?”

“Fuck no!” you shout and he moans as his hips faulter, sputtering as his cock expands and explodes inside you, panting and groaning with satisfaction, before he collapses to your side.

The three of you lie in silence, save for the panting you can’t seem to slow down.

“Alright…,” Rafayel starts first. “What the fuck… was that?”

“Whatever it was, it was fun,” you answer, suddenly shy as a blush blooms across your face.

“It should happen again sober,” Sylus adds, turning on his side so that he can wrap his arms around you. “That way, I can be sure you are consenting for all the things I want to do you to.” Sylus gently pinches Rafayel’s cheek causing him to huff indignantly.

“You… are lucky you are so goddamn handsome.”

You erupt in a fit of giggles in between them causing the both of them to smirk.

“We should probably get cleaned up…” you ponder aloud as Sylus pulls you closer to spoon you and grabs Raf’s elbow, encouraging him to become your little spoon, but only so he can drape his arm over the two of you at the same time.

“Later,” Sylus hums happily. “Lets just take a few minutes to breathe.”

But the three of you fade to black, the exhaustion and alcohol vapors lulling you to comfortable sleep. And when you wake, you know, things will never be the same again.

[3fingersofscotch]

Like a Party Favor 2

Like a Party Favor Chapter 2

Pairing: M/M/M/M/F Sylus x Zayne x Rafayel x Xavier x Afab Reader

Summary: In what scenario does MC get passed around like a party favor? This one!

WARNINGS: 18+ mdni!! GANGBANG, word porn with just enough plot to make your brain happy, double penetration, vaginal and anal sex, rough face fucking, rough cunniligus, creampies, tons of cum, like... tons, reverse harem, butt plugs, multiple partners, multiple positions, actual funny parts, gratuitous self pleasing smut.

Author's note: Chapter 2 pairings! Rafayel/Reader, Zayne/Reader

I started writing this back in August, so obviously some new cards have come out to spoil a couple of things. There is one chapter where Zayne is enjoying a martini. We know know he doesn't drink. Give me a break. This is a WIP. I'm trying to figure out how to fit Caleb in there somewhere.

Ao3- 3fingers_of_scotch

Chapter 1

You must ask for permission to repost on other platforms.

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated anywhere.

Sylus’ front door is so fucking far away and it already feels like you can’t breathe. Your chest hurts and tears sting your eyes. Not like this. You didn’t want them to find out like this.

You didn’t want them to find out at all if you were honest with yourself.

Your hands grasp at the door handle as it appears in front of you and you are ready to bolt out the door and into the unknown when Sylus’ evol slams the door shut in front of you and you know your escape is nothing but an empty dream.

One can’t simply break a panic attack through sheer force of will and you find yourself collapsing, unable to breathe despite the gentle reassurance you receive from the men who chased after you. It hurts. Your chest burns as you hyperventilate. You quietly curse Sylus for forcing things to come to a head while simultaneously reprimanding yourself for expecting anything better.

Your life deserves to implode like a dying star, because you are the one that is in the wrong here. You don’t have the right to be mad at him or the others.

If you want to save a shred of dignity, you have to face them and apologize. Collapsed on the floor, you have no idea how you are going to make that happen.

It is Zayne that kneels on the floor beside you, gesturing at the other men to give you space and they reluctantly comply because he is the doctor after all. “You are safe,” He reassures, taking loud, rhythmic deep breaths and you follow, in through your mouth and out through your nose, even as the sobs that break out of your body cause you to quake in his presence. You are snot, and tears and fear and anxiety…

But in a rare moment, he is warm and reassuring and his hand traces patterns on your back as he keeps his distance. He did this after he made love to you too and you feel sick and reassured at the same time.

Its probably 5 minutes before the sobs reduce from body shaking to quiet sniffling and the hand stops tracing patterns on your back so that Zayne can pull your reluctant body closer to wipe away your tears. He has tissues, and the snot you are certain has ruin your face gets wiped away. You can’t even breathe through your nostrils.

“Good,” he says, giving you more reassurance than you deserve. “When you are ready, we can talk.” You think for a moment that he will give you space, but he knows better and he takes your hand in his.

You wait and you wait, but you know that everyone else is willing to wait longer and you sigh, resigning yourself to your fate. When you rise, Zayne gently guides you back to the room where 3 more men look contrite and it confuses you. You are the one who did wrong, so why are they the ones that are sorry?

Its very clear no one knows were to start. Sylus was an action man, and that’s how everyone made it to his compound. But as everyone exchanged looks, it seemed no one had the gumption to take the lead.

It felt awkward and you need to break the silence. “I’m so sorry,” you blurt out and all at once, everyone is confused.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding,” Zayne says, his hand still grasping yours as his thumb rubs small, gentle circles on the back of your hand.

“It seems… we owe you an explanation.” Oddly, its Rafayel who speaks up. “We’ve all been hiding things from you and its time we fess up.”

Xavier looks the most nervous. You’ve never seen that look on his face before. “They are coming for you. We are running out of time.”

You nod. Xavier has explained Philos to you before. They are coming for your core. But you look around the room. Why is it the others seem to understand?

“It took all of us gathering to finally piece it together,” Sylus laughs, but its not one filled with mirth. Instead, its ominous and it fills you with a sense of deep dread.

“I started everything several lifetimes ago. I see it in my dreams. I gave you the Aether Core to save your life and instead, I doom you to be reincarnated over and over, only to have your core harvested to save Philos.” Zayne casts his eyes aside, still carrying the weight and shame of his weakness, even though what happened occurred several lifetimes ago.

“They find you in all your lifetimes,” Rafayel states. “They take your life to extend their own. Greedy bastards.”

“The people in Philos don’t die because of you. They should. They don’t deserve to live,” Xavier whispers. “I don’t deserve to live.”

“They’ve forced you to take my protocore in some of my past lives, as if your Aether Core is not enough,” Rafayel states.

You eyeball Sylus who hasn’t spoken. “I’m just like you.” Sylus leans forward in calm contemplation. “Again and again, I come into this world and they try and take my Aether Core. Only difference is I remember. I fight back. We aren’t supposed to exist in the same timeline.”

“Why don’t I remember?” You ask. You trust these men with everything you have, but that doesn’t mean you don’t resent them for their ability to recall their past lives.

“Dun know,” Rafayel says nonchalantly.

“And how did you find each other?” You ask. ‘And do you know I’ve slept with all of you?’ You think, but can’t ask out loud.

Sylus’ smile is deviant. “I… may have tried to eliminate them all one-by-one when I found out they touched you.”

“You what?” You put together the pieces slowly. They all appeared to be injured at around the same time, you recall. But it was around the time your childhood home blew up and you lost your grandmother and Caleb and you were too lost in your thoughts to really dissect what was going on in their lives.

“Its behind us now, kitten. Besides, I quickly realized that if you were surrounded by men that could hold their own against me, it was simply not a coincidence… and it could lead to both of our salvations.”

“We think that separating your Aether Cores safely from your souls will prevent you from reincarnating again with the Aether Core,” Xavier theorizes.

“But you need to live long enough for us to figure out how to do that,” Zayne says, thumb still caressing the hand he never let go of.

“The more intimate we’ve become, the stronger we resonate. The five of us have never existed in the same timeline before. I believe if we can increase your ability to resonate with all of us, we will have a strong chance at staying alive until we can remove our Aether Cores,” Sylus summarizes.

The others are silent as you digest everything you were told. “And you aren’t mad at me?”

Rafayel’s smile is both warm and sad at the same time. “We’ve loved you in multiple lifetimes. Its not your fault that suddenly we all appeared at once.”

“I’m mad,” Sylus growls from the corner, arms crossed against his chest. “But this is all news to me and I’m choosing the lesser of two evils… to fight for you now so I don’t have to lose you later. And if I have to share you with your star-crossed lovers to make that happen, a little bit of you is better than nothing.”

You find this deeply saddening. You silently pray that whatever you can accomplish in this lifetime prevents their heartache in the next. You sit down, sinking into the couch as the weight of the conversation buries you.

“So… what next?” You ask. They didn’t exactly lay out a plan.

Rafayel closes the gap and his lips find yours. Your cheeks grow hot. You know the others know, but you aren’t ready for them to actually see you be intimate with any of them.

Sylus’ evol pushes Rafayel away from you and you breath a sigh of relief.

“Hey! I will feed you to my fishies if you try that again!” Rafayel shouts. “Bitch,” he adds, muttering under his breath.

You’d laugh if you weren’t completely overwhelmed.

“This can be discussed without it devolving into a shouting match,” Zayne announces as he drags you to a private room where a bag full of medical equipment lying on a bed is waiting. He pulls out testing equipment and asks for your finger, pricking it for a blood sample.

“I still don’t understand what is going on,” you plead.

“You heard Sylus,” Zayne eyeballs the test results from your finger prick. “Your resonance grows when you become more intimate with someone.”

“You don’t mean—"

“Congratulations, you are currently clean. No STDs.” Zayne shows you the happy face on the blood scanner. “I’ve tested everyone. Nothing will be passed around, if that’s what concerns you.”

“That isn’t the part that concerns me!” You shout. You simply couldn’t; after carrying around this guilt for weeks, you can’t stand the idea that they all know about each other.

Zayne’s hazel eyes are gentle. “No one here can make you do something you don’t want to do. We were talking about it before you woke up. You decide what happens here, and if that means that we all go our separate ways, then that is what we will do.” His hands take yours and you stare at his grasp, unable to hold his gaze.

“But darling… I implore you. If it means we could save your life, let us do what needs to be done?” You glance at his face and he almost looks weak. His love for you is apparent and so is his desperation. You want him.

“I decide what happens next?” You watch Zayne nod. You want him right now. You want to forget the others are waiting on the other side of the door.

Erring on the side of caution, you place a gentle kiss on his cheek and he smiles, pulling you closer. He wants you; you can tell. The appearance of the others has not spurned him. He is solid ground, unmoving and trustworthy as you take your first steps and he centers you, just as he did when you fell apart at the front door.

“I want you,” you say and it’s all he needs to lay you on your back. You are still wearing the oversized t-shirt Sylus let you borrow. Zayne pushes the shirt up your body exposing your breasts and he takes his time squeezing both and sucking on your pert nipples. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales deeply before getting to work.

His mouth is always diligent. He enjoys finding all your sensitive spots and today is no different as he uses his expert memory to nibble that spot on your neck that makes you weak and wet. He moves, stealthily slipping off your shorts and panties while you are distracted. His lips trail to devour your shoulder and you hiss, back arching and your stomach brushes against an erection you realize has been loosened from is trappings and he is already guiding himself inside of you.

“Oh Zayne!” you groan as he sinks in. You are still raw and sensitive from the night before and it just makes it feel dirtier and more delicious. You suddenly realize that Zayne has entered you without a condom and he has never done that before.

It feels more delicious, like the friction you’ve been dying for is finally itching that scratch. His lips find yours and he kisses as deeply as he fucks. He is normally a man of restraint but his strokes today are hard… unyielding even. Like there was territory to be reclaimed and purpose in unleashing himself inside you.

“I don’t like finding out second hand what a dirty girl you are,” He grunts in your ear and you tremor at the realization that this is now a competition. He has heard something from the others and he has realized that you don’t do it when you’re with him.

But he is a doctor, and he is so proper, and you’ve always tried to match his etiquette. He has been so considerate and polite.

You never thought he’d want something more deplorable than what you’d been giving him. You thought wrong, clearly as his pace increases and his deep, hard thrusts become harder and more fevered and you are screaming beneath him.

“Fuck!” You cry out. He withdraws, causing you to whimper, begging him not to stop.

“You never curse for me,” He rolls you over. Your first instinct is to get up on your knees and he enters you swiftly, but suddenly he spreads your knees and pushes your torso down towards the mattress below. You lie down and he rests his weight against you. You feel so full and so grounded when one of his hands threads through your hair and he pulls your head to the side so he can growl in your ear.

“Will my darling turn into a dirty girl for me? Will I hear her curse some more?” His breath is hot and he nibbles on your ear as he resumes his thrusting, hand still tightly wound in your hair. His tongue is trailing with firm pressure around you ear and down your jawline and the pressure is building rapidly between your legs as you curse, repeatedly into the sheets below you.

“Fuck! Zayne, oh, FUCK! Oh, FUCK!”

It’s exactly what he wants to hear and he purrs in your ear. “That’s it, baby!” He coaxes more sounds from your mouth when he bites your neck with more force than usual. You wonder if it is because he wants the others to see it and know that it was his handiwork.

You are about to cum, you can feel it building swiftly and you try to warn him, but the way he is pounding you doesn’t leave enough room for words and you tighten around his cock, eliciting delicious moans right into your ear.

“Is my pretty baby being good and taking her birth control?” He asks and you get excited because he is ready to blow his load.

“Yes! Fuck, I’m a good girl!” Your pussy is still throbbing as your orgasm racks your body.

“Good,” He groans through gritted teeth and you feel his cock expand inside you, pulsing as you feel it pump the cum you desire deep within you. He grunts and his body shakes as pushes his hips harder against yours, determined for you to receive every last drop of his desire.

This room has an en-suite bathroom and you feel incredibly grateful that for a few extra moments, you can calm down, clean yourself up and collect yourself before facing everyone waiting for you outside. Zayne cleans himself up too and treats you as if nothing has changed and it’s incredibly reassuring.

He pulls you close and kisses you gently. It looks like he might have something to say when your stomach growls loudly.

“We should find something for you to eat,” he says, already pulling you out the room before you can protest.

Xavier and Rafayel have already made friends with Sylus’ chef and breakfast is prepared. Breakfast? You are exhausted. It feels like you’ve been awake for 24 hours and are running on pure adrenaline, but sure enough, it is still breakfast time. You know that they know what just happened in that room and you can’t look up from the eggs and sausage in front of you.

Despite being absolutely famished, you play with your food as Zayne asks where Sylus is.

“Out,” You hear Xavier say. No one knows where. The guys give you an appropriate amount of space all of the sudden, separating into rooms you guess they must have picked out for themselves when they arrived. You finally finish your breakfast and get ready for the day.

You are having a hard time deciding what to wear. You aren’t sure to what extent the guys are willing to go to achieve what they came here for. The fleeting thought occurs that it would be more effective, not to wear anything at all.

‘This isn’t an all-day fuck-fest,’ you think to yourself and do your best to make yourself presentable. You decide that you want to look good, if not for them, then to at least make yourself feel better. You diligently apply your make up, style your hair and put on a cute pink dress that Xavier once said makes you look like a delicate porcelain doll.

Your phone is fully charged. You ignore the texts from Tara and work. Its impossible to feel guilty about it after what has transpired.

You open the chat app and click Sylus’ avatar.

-Where are you?-

Sylus -Out running a very important errand-

-hurry back, soon-

He responds with a thumbs up emoji and you stare at it for a moment. You aren’t sure what to do next. Your body feels too used to get a bit of exercise in. You’ve eaten. You don’t feel like doom-scrolling on your phone, because honestly, what the fuck is happening today?

You gather the courage to exit your room—no. This is Sylus’ room. You are only in it because that is where your clothes are.

You wander to the theater room that you’ve never gone to by yourself because you haven’t been able to figure out how to turn on the projector. You wish Sylus was here.

You play with the equipment and the buttons don’t respond when you press them.

“You’ve got to turn this switch on for the equipment,” Rafayel is leaning against the doorway, pointing at a switch just under eye-level before flipping it on.

You can hear the projector hum quietly after you press the power button and you mumble a thanks to Rafayel.

“So, what are we watching?” He plops down on the big, comfy couch, waiting for you to sit next to him.

“A horror film about a haunted village,” you answer, hesitantly take a seat next to him. You still haven’t forgotten the boldness of the kiss earlier and you know he is fearless enough to do it again where everyone can see you. He is a man with the boldness of the God of the Sea.

And he is bold still as you feel his arm snake around you, pulling you close so that he can inhale your scent.

“You’ve wounded me greatly,” He murmurs and you hang your head.

“I know… I know,” you say and the tears begin to form. He was the first man you’d sampled during your emotional turmoil. He’d revealed so much of himself. His history, his race, your love story together, and when he took you to bed the love you felt was so intense, the rest of the world did not matter. At the time, you were so certain no other man would ever come between you and him.

But eventually, you had to go home. And waiting at your door was a concerned Xavier with cheap, delicious takeout and milk tea. One minute you were eating and chatting harmlessly and the next minute Xavier’s lips met yours and it was game over. He fucked you, and he fucked you and he fucked you some more. Even worse is that you let him. He was just one floor and a text message away when you couldn’t sleep. Sleep wouldn’t claim you until your pussy felt raw with abuse. You’d get home and see something that would remind you of Caleb or Grandma and suddenly, it was your place or his and you’ve never seen Xavier more awake in your life.

Then, you’d think of Rafayel and your heart would break. You couldn’t face him after what you’d done.

“I know the reason why. It doesn’t matter.” Rafayel’s lips hover over your ear as he squeezes you tight. “What hurt the most is the time we missed. I wanted to see you so badly. Don’t do that to me again.”

You nod. You’ll never do that again. Rafayel deserved all the love you could give him and more. He deserved a love that transcended time and space. He nuzzles you delicately, humming pleasantly as he buries his nose somewhere near your collar bone.

“I’m guessing you want to make it up to me somehow,” His smile is suggestive and beautiful and you absolutely do.

“Tell me how I can make it up to you?” You ask. You lean in to meet his lips and his response to your touch is searing. You just want him to know that you love him. You’ll do anything so that he knows.

“You look so cute in this dress,” he remarks. “I want to watch you cum while wearing it.”

Fuck. You were worried a moment ago that he wouldn’t be able to control himself, but you were the one unbuttoning his pants in a common room anyone could walk in. You kneel on the ground pulling his cock out to sample with your tongue.

He’s as salty as the ocean and his ears and nose burn bright read as he watches you. His rosy irises darken when you take the head of his cock in your mouth and swirl it around your tongue. He hisses as you descend slowly, tongue trailing patterns up and down his cock until its sopping wet and you can see the blush burning down his neck.

He is flush and hot. His body always responds like this to you.

“What—” he can’t breathe. “What are you waiting for? I said I wanted to watch you cum.”

Oh, dear lord. You rise from your knees and as you do, your thumbs tuck into the waistband of your panties. Rafayel catches on and quickly pulls his pants and boxers off. His weeping erection is leaking pre-cum on his shirt, but the only thing he is paying attention to is you as you climb into his lap, hovering over his erection.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs as he guides his erection, pushing the head past your lips and you slide down, grinding against his hips. His hands grasp your thighs so tightly, you realize he’s holding you in place, soaking in your warmth and tightness so he can adjust. You grab the back of the couch just past his shoulders and ready yourself for when he lets go.

As soon as his grip release your thighs, you move, gyrating on his cock and you watch as he throws his head backwards into the cushions. He is still so red, so breath-takingly beautiful underneath you, mouth open and eyes half shut.

His cock slides past your folds deliciously and you know your mouth is hanging open in a similar fashion as your cry out wordlessly. Your lips drift together and apart repeatedly as you cry out and it only increases tenfold when his hand slides under your dress to massage your clit and you rock back and forth in a desperate attempt to bring him to completion before he can finish you off with his fingers.

“You are pink,” he says before biting his lip. “A lovely rosy hue I can only see in my dreams when you ride me. I want to capture this moment forever.”

The moan that escapes your lips is rich and guttural and you cry out loud when suddenly, his hands grasp your hips firmly and he thrust aggressively up into you.

“Rafayel!”

“Call me your husband!” he pleads. Its beautiful and sweet and you want to be his bride once more.

“Yes! Husband! My love!” He is shaking, as a tear trickles down his cheek. His hips meet yours with extra force and you come undone, writhing on his cock and whimpering so sweetly. He studies your face carefully. He wants to be able to recall this moment in another 800 years if need be.

You feel hot in your pretty pink dress and sweat is dripping down your neck. He tastes the salt on your collar bone and shudders.

“My beautiful bride,” he whispers and you feel it.

His cum is always explosive. He clamps down on your waist and pulls you down into him with all his might as he squeezes his eyes shut. His body rolls in waves against his will as he empties himself. You feel his cum dripping down your thighs and onto his lap and he is still coming. The throbbing is in tune with the rumbling of his body and you revel in each gush you feel rushing against your cervix.

“Husband,” you whisper in his ear and he shivers with delight.

“God, I love you!” He moans, pulling you against his chest. You breathe each other in, fingers tracing the bare skin you can reach on each other’s bodies and his cock softens and slips out naturally. You don’t want to move.

Suddenly you remember that the two of you are not alone in this house and your blush burns bright once more.

“-s okay, beautiful. I love you.” Rafayel’s smile is brilliant. He uses his boxers to wipe you down before cleaning himself up. “We don’t need to have everything figured out yet. I’m just glad that I have you right now.”

A/N: Rafayel would totally call Sylus a bitch.😏

[3fingersofscotch]

PROFESSOR RAFAYEL?! All up in my private parts?! Yes please.

𝓘𝓷𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 - 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝔀𝓸

Art teacher Rafayel AU with lots of mutual pining. Slow burn, multi-chapter.

Pairing: Rafayel x AFAB Reader

Word Count: 11,280

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI, PROFESSOR/STUDENT RELATIONSHIP, porn with plot, explicit descriptions, vaginal fingering, public/semi-public sex, exhibitionism, dirty talk, cunnilingus, this is nasty and dirty so I am warning you now

AO3 // chapter 1

You wake the next day to the warm dregs of late morning sunlight filtering through your sheer bedroom curtains. Cocooned in your plush duvet, you groan, feeling the faint throb of your head as you slowly gain consciousness. You’re immediately aware of the uncomfortable nag of a slight hangover, combined with an unmistakable ache in your limbs. Blinking in the dim light and allowing the room to take focus, the reality of the situation finally dawns on you. Oh my-

Last night.

Memories of the previous evening flood your mind like a dam bursting, those heated touches, hungry kisses, needy moans. Rafayel. You’d brought your art professor home from the bar last night, effectively ruining your entire reasoning for going to begin with. The intention had been to find a distraction; to get the inappropriate thoughts you’d been having for your teacher out of your head. Instead, a bit of alcohol and coincidence caused you to act on your impulses rather than avoid them. When you’d had your mind set on bringing a guy home, it was definitely not him.

You extend your arm, searching the space next to you in your bed only to find it empty. He’d clearly already left, which left you slightly disappointed though not entirely surprised. The gravity of what the two of you had done weighs suddenly on your chest, and you swallow thickly, throat dry. Perhaps he had regretted the entire thing? The two of you had been drinking, perhaps he had been more intoxicated than you thought and had acted rashly. You hate the feeling of dead that settles in your stomach, amplifying the light queasy feeling.

Groaning, you sit up in bed, realizing with a flush of embarrassment you were still completely naked. Your limbs protest each movement, the familiar sensation of undeniably good sex emanating from you in a way that drew more steamy memories to the forefront of your mind. You huffed, running your fingers through your unruly hair in an attempt to gain some composure. Not only had you had sex with your professor, but it had also notably been some of the best sex of your life. It was beyond your wildest fantasy, leaving you reeling at the lingering memory of his touch.

God, you were so screwed.

You fished an oversized t-shirt from your pajama drawer, not bothering with clothing yourself further as you trudge into the kitchen for a glass of water. In a daze, you make your way to the sink, not even bothering with lights as you know they’ll just amplify your headache. The touch of the cool liquid soothes your dry lips and throat, and you swallow some pain pills. Wrapping your arms around yourself as you sip slowly, you take in the quiet calm of your apartment.

You freeze, your eyes settling on your kitchen island and the to go coffee cup that you completely missed when first entering the room. How had you not noticed that?

The cup has a sleeve from your favorite coffee shop, which has become your favorite both out of convenience and taste. Not only is it two minutes from your place, it has an excellent vanilla latte. The coffee sits next to a small pastry bag, and to your surprise, on top of a folded piece of paper. Your heart stutters in your chest at the realization, slowly padding over to the island in your bare feet to take a closer look. Placing the glass in your hands down onto the granite, you reach for the paper cup, finding it still warm to the touch.

You raise the drink to your nose, breathing in the delicious scent of coffee and something sweet. Taking an appreciative sip of the warm liquid, the creamy taste spreads across your tongue,  surprisingly similar to your normal order. You reach for the pastry, as well as the folded paper that accompanied it. Your heart stutters in anticipation, unsure what he could have written to you. The note, scrawled in elegant handwriting that matched his artistic style, read simply:

needed to get to the studio early. didn’t want to wake you. coffee’s on me.

-R

The kindness of the gesture isn’t lost on you, causing your cheeks to heat up. You trace your fingers gently over the delicate script, noting that he’s added his phone number to the bottom of the page. Your fingertips linger over the curled “R” on the page, feeling the texture of the pen stroke. You shouldn’t, but the temptation is overwhelming. If anything, this is the moment to call it all off, move forward as if nothing has happened to make sure neither of you see any of the potential consequences of this.

Yet, you find yourself typing his number into your contacts before you can think twice. You give yourself some silent affirmations that this can turn out normal. Just a phone number, nothing serious, any professor could be texting his students really. You’d had professor’s phone numbers in the past, ones that had been quite casual with students and welcomed questions to their personal devices. Though you were confident that was not Professor Rafayel’s intention whatsoever.

As you drink the latte, warmth spreads through you, lessening the uncomfortable thrum of your lingering hangover little by little. Draining the last dregs of liquid, you think of texting him at least to say thank you for the kindness. Though it stung to not have him here when you woke up, he didn’t have to go out and back just for you.

Your decision is made, just one text.

thanks for the coffee. x

You bite your lip, considering deleting the “x” from the end just in case anyone sees him receive the message. It changes the tone, turning the message from innocent into something that could raise suspicion. Regardless of your momentary hesitation, you hit send anyways.

Unable to be near your phone at the odd chance a response from him comes in right away, you decide to shower. In your time standing and drinking your latte in the kitchen, you’ve become uncomfortably aware of the lingering stickiness between your legs, cringing slightly at the lewdness of it. You needed a shower, badly.

You trudge to the bathroom, leaving your phone on the kitchen counter to give yourself distance from the anticipation of his response. He may not even respond for all you knew, he really was not obligated to. If he were smart, he’d realize he’d gotten what he wanted and move on from this before anyone took notice.

Taking in your reflection in the mirror, your breath catches in your throat in surprise. A thrill runs down your spine at the state of your neck, littered with lingering hickeys and fading bite marks. One in particular stands out on your shoulder, another on your left breast, both purple and slightly tender. You trail your fingers gingerly over the flesh, knowing you should probably be alarmed. All you can feel is appreciation, your body reacting to the possessiveness of the way he has marked you.

Thankfully it’s the weekend and you’ll have a couple days to figure out how to hide these before class again. Perhaps that was his plan all along, leaving you scrambling to cover the evidence of the night together. Or perhaps he simply lost control of himself in the haze of intoxication, his self restraint finally running out.

As the shower heats up, steam fills your bathroom and slowly clouds over your mirrored reflection. Stepping into the water, you hum in appreciation at the warm caress on your aching muscles, a welcome relief. You take what is seemingly the longest shower of your life, washing, shaving, exfoliating every inch of your skin and doing a hair mask after shampooing. The extra self-care is nice, but the alone time gives you far too much room for revisiting the events of the previous night in your mind, over and over.

You huff. Get it together girl.

There was no way this could continue, and you doubted at this point he would let it. That you would let it. You weren’t a fool, men got what they wanted, and they moved on, simple as that. Plus, Rafayel was famous, so you were certain he was no stranger to casual sex. In fact, you were confident he had women throwing themselves at him, it was unlikely that you were someone special. If anything, you’d played right into some fun teacher/student fantasy he’d wanted to try out.

After your shower, you dress slowly in something comfortable and casual, not intending to leave your apartment today. You’re immediately reminded of your phone waiting for you on the counter, but you put off checking it as long as you can, instead opting to dry your hair and apply your skincare.

When you can’t distract yourself any longer, you find a response from Rafayel waiting for you, your heart jumping into your throat.

anytime though maybe next time i’ll join you for the coffee and maybe the rest of the evening too

Two more messages follow the first, in quick succession.

and maybe the rest of the evening too

missed you this morning

The final message is accompanied by a winking emoji. Casual and effortless. Definitely not the professional vibe you’d expect, though you knew going in he was similar to you in age. You weren’t complaining, either, the attention making you a bit giddy. It made you want to toss your phone across the room at the intimate response, unsure how to even follow up. 

You continue the remainder of your weekend in a gentle haze of disbelief, tidying your apartment and idly working on a few homework assignments on your laptop. Sunday evening comes quickly, and you settle down in your bed with the TV on, a show playing in the background as you scroll leisurely on various webpages. You’d refrained from responding to Rafayel’s earlier messages the entire weekend, thinking it was maybe best to put some space between the two of you so you could think clearly. Especially with tomorrow evening’s class rapidly approaching, and the nagging reminder you’d need to see him in person. Somehow, you’d need to remain casual. 

That is until your phone lights up on your nightstand, alerting you to a new message.

still awake?

Your heart pounds as you read over the message again, desperately trying to convince yourself it’s a bad idea to respond. Yet you find yourself curious, and to be honest you’ve already come this far. Right?

You raise your phone, snapping a photo of your dimly lit bedroom bathed in the colorful light of the TV, laptop open on the bed. The camera catches your bare legs stretched out on your bed underneath your oversized t-shirt, an intentional inclusion. You send the photo with an accompanying message:

yes, what are you up to?

The familiar thrill returns, a potent mix of excitement and trepidation. You watch the loading bubble appear and disappear repeatedly, a silent countdown to whatever Rafayel is about to say. Minutes stretch into what feels like an eternity, the TV show you're half-watching now completely forgotten.

Finally, the response arrives.

thinking about you

Simple. Direct. Effective. Your breath hitches, and you swallow thickly. It takes everything in you to fight the urge to reply immediately, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and gather your thoughts. What do you even say to that? Do you play it cool? Flirt back? Or do you cut this off before it consumes you entirely?

Option three feels like the responsible choice, the one that protects your future and prevents inevitable heartbreak. Realistically, there was no real option for a relationship between the two of you, at least while you were his student. Even after graduating, there would be talk about his professionalism, pursuing even a former student. People would speculate, what had you two been up to in class then if he was showing interest now? How right they would be to speculate, too, you already having lured him home with you no more than a month into the course. The way he had ensnared you with his charm is mildly infuriating, causing you to act how you knew you shouldn’t. 

But as much as you fight it, the voice in your head is drowned out by a far louder, more insistent whisper: He's thinking about you.

You run your fingers through your hair, feeling the silkiness against your skin. A phantom sensation of his touch surfaces with more disjointed memories, the feeling of his lips on your neck, on your body, where you needed him most. Places you’d only felt him touch you in shameless dreams, coming to life again and again in your mind, a saccharine reality now. You trace the outline of a hickey on your neck, a blush creeping up your face.

You type, delete, retype, delete again. Nothing feels right. You're caught between wanting to push him away and desperately craving more.

Then, another message pops up.

wanna see what i’m working on

Your pulse quickens. There’s more to his message than he’s letting on. You know this is a test; a line being crossed. Part of you screams "absolutely not" while another part is overwhelmingly curious.

You hesitate, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

what is it?

It’s all you manage to type, the words feeling weak and inadequate.

The loading bubble returns, agonizingly slow. You imagine him on the other end, smirking, knowing he has you hooked.

Then, a picture arrives. Your heart hammers against your ribs. It's a photo taken from a high angle, looking down at Rafayel as he sits on what looks like a ladder. He's in a dimly lit room, the light catching on his dark hair. He's shirtless, the shadows sculpting the lines of his chest and abdomen. One hand holds a palette with a vivid array of colors.

He meets the camera's gaze, his eyes intense and knowing. His paintbrush is clasped between his lips, giving him a free hand to take the photo. You can see barely a corner of the large mural he’s working on, so the intent is clear. The image is both intimate and provocative, a tantalizing glimpse behind the curtain of his public persona.

You gasp, a small sound escaping your lips. It's a blatant invitation, a clear escalation.

You're completely lost. You shouldn't do this. You can't do this. Putting everything on the line in your last semester is insanity. But the thought of turning away now, of missing out on this intoxicating connection, is unbearable.

You reply with a single word:

wow

He doesn't reply immediately this time, your response glaring back at you for a few moments. You wait, your heart pounding, wondering what he's thinking, what he's planning.

Then, the phone rings, his name flashing across the screen.

You stare at it, paralyzed. Should you answer? Certainly not, it's nearly 10 o'clock and you're certain there is nothing he could say that won't get you into more trouble than you already are with this. 

The ringing stops. You let out a shaky breath, decision made.

Then, it rings again. He's not giving up.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift the phone and press the answer button, bringing it to your ear. The connection crackles, then his voice, smooth and honeyed, fills your ear.

"Couldn't help myself," he murmurs. "Wanted to hear your voice."

“Well, you got your wish.” You manage, feeling breathless, hoping he can’t hear it in your voice.

His voice drops, a husky rasp that sends shivers down your spine. "And now that I have... what are you going to do about it?"

The question hangs in the air, thick with unspoken implications. You can practically feel his gaze on you, imagining him watching, waiting for your response. Pressing your lips together, you try to regain some semblance of control, but your mind is racing a mile a minute.

"What do you want me to do?" you finally ask, the words a barely audible whisper. Feigning innocence.

"That," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "is for you to decide." There’s a pause, as you imagine he’s giving you ample time to consider your options, and the implications of each. “Though, I do have a few ideas.”

You bite your lip, the silence stretching between you. You can hear the faint sounds of his studio in the background - the hum of the lights, the clink of brushes, the rustle of canvas. It paints a vivid picture in your mind, bringing him closer, making the temptation even harder to resist.

"What kind of ideas?" you venture, the question a dangerous invitation.

He chuckles softly. "Let's just say they involve you, me, and a lot less clothing." The sudden honesty is disabling. You can practically feel his gaze trailing over your body, lingering on every curve and contour. A memory of his face, his body in the backdrop of your dimly lit bedroom resurfacing.

The air in your lungs thins, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it through the phone. You know this is reckless, that you should hang up, block his number, and run as far away as possible, but you're frozen, captivated by his voice, consumed by the desire that's been simmering between you. There’s no more alcohol softening the situation, giving you nerve.

"You're terrible," you whisper, but there's no real conviction in your voice.

"Maybe," he concedes, "but you like it, don't you?" He’s right, of course. You can’t deny the thrill, the excitement, the raw, chemical magnetism that draws you to him. It’s intoxicating, addicting, and you know you're playing with fire.

Before you can answer, he speaks again, his voice dropping lower, becoming even more intimate. "Tell me what you're wearing."

The question is so unexpected, so brazen, that your breath catches. You clutch the phone tighter, your knuckles white. "Rafayel..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"Humor me," he pleads, his voice laced with a seductive urgency. "I haven’t seen you all weekend. I miss you."

You close your eyes, surrendering to the moment. You take a deep breath, the scent of your clean sheets and your sweet vanilla lotion filling your nostrils. It’s as if you’re being pulled in separate directions, one part of you wanting to do as he says, the other part warning against it. “An oversized t-shirt,” you admit. “And… nothing else.”

He hums, a low, resonant sound that reverberates through your body. "Perfect," he murmurs. "Now, picture this..."

He starts to paint a scene with his words, describing how he would trace the outline of your bare legs with his hands, how he would run his fingers through your hair, how he would taste the sweetness of your skin. How he would make you feel for him. His voice is a hypnotic caress, each word igniting a fresh wave of desire within you.

You’re completely lost, drowning in the fantasy he is painting for you with his words, amplified by the reality of the previous night. Your common sense has abandoned you, leaving you vulnerable to his every whim.

"Rafayel," you manage to gasp, your voice barely a whisper, "stop..."

But he doesn't stop. He continues to weave his spell, his words growing more explicit, more daring, until you are utterly consumed by heat and longing. He makes his need for you known, shamelessly. Warmth pools between your legs, and you squeeze your thighs together in response. You know you should hang up, that you should end this before it goes too far, but you can't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you close your eyes and let yourself drift, surrendering to the delicious torment of his voice, knowing that you are teetering on the edge of something forbidden, something utterly irresistible.

“Cutie…you still there?” he purrs, taunting.

“Yes.” You huff, twirling a strand of hair around your fingers nervously with your free hand.

"Good," he breathes, the single word thick with implication. "Because I'm not finished with you yet."

He shifts gears, his voice softening, turning almost reverent. "Do you know what I love most about you?" he asks, the question catching you completely off guard.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. "What?"

"Your mind," he whispers. "The way you see the world, the way you challenge me, the way you're always thinking, always questioning. The way you look at me. It's...everything, and it’s killing me."

His words strike you like lightning. You're used to people noticing your appearance, your style, maybe even your wit, but no one, not even the men who claimed to adore you, has ever expressed such admiration for your inner self. It's unnerving and exhilarating, like he's seeing a part of you that you barely knew existed.

"You... you barely know me," you stammer, trying to regain some footing in this rapidly shifting landscape.

"I know enough," he counters, his voice firm, yet sweet. "I see the fire in your eyes, the passion in your words, the strength in your spirit. And I want to know more."

He pauses, letting his words sink in. "I want to spend hours talking to you about everything and nothing. I want to debate philosophy and art and the meaning of life. I want to hear your dreams, your fears, your secrets."

You clutch the phone even tighter, your heart aching with a longing you can't quite name. You've always craved this kind of connection, this kind of understanding, but you never thought you'd find it in a situation like this. Where is was also so unattainable. 

"You make it sound... idyllic," you say, your voice laced with skepticism.

He chuckles, a low, breathy sound that vibrates through the phone. "Life isn't idyllic, darling. It's messy, and complicated, and full of contradictions. But that's what makes it beautiful."

He sighs, the sound echoing in your ear. "Look, I'm not going to pretend to be someone I'm not. I'm flawed, I'm impulsive, and I can be a handful. I know what this looks like from your perspective, and what this means for us both. But I promise you this: if you give me a chance, I'll show you a world you never knew existed. A world filled with brilliant color, with adventure, with pleasure..."

His words are a siren song, luring you closer and closer to the rocks. You know you should resist, that you should protect yourself from the inevitable crash and burn that follows this, but the temptation is too strong. You've always been a sucker for a good story, and Rafayel is describing a masterpiece.

"And what if I say no?" you ask, testing him, testing yourself.

He's silent for a moment, and you hold your breath, waiting for his response.

"Then I'll respect your decision," he says finally, his voice sincere. "But I'll always wonder what could have been."

The bare honesty in his voice is disarming. You can tell he means it, that he wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want to do. But the thought of closing yourself off to the possibility of something extraordinary, while also disappointing him, is unbearable.

"O-kay," you whisper, every syllable heavy with the weight of your decision.

"Okay?" he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief.

"Okay," you confirm, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'll give…this…a chance."

A sigh of relief, or perhaps surrender, escapes your lips. The word "okay" hangs in the air, a moment of sweet realization for the two of you. 

"Okay," Rafayel echoes, the relief palpable in his voice. You're sure you can hear him smiling. "I'll... I'll see you tomorrow in class then. Now, I guess I should let you get back to your evening."

You chuckle, the sound coming out a bit breathless. "As you can see, I wasn’t up to much anyways."

"I figured as much, which is why I called you," he purrs, the amusement dancing in his tone. "You’d have had such a boring night without me."

"I can’t lie to you there, you always make things more exciting," you reply, the words a soft murmur against the phone. There's a teasing challenge in your voice, a hint of the boldness he seems to draw out of you.

"Good," he says, the single word dripping with satisfaction. "And... wear something nice tomorrow. For me."

You laugh, shaking your head even though he can't see you. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"That's what you like about me," he counters, without a hint of shame. "Good night, cutie. Sweet dreams. And try not to think about me too much." The last sentence is delivered with a playful smirk, even though you can only hear it.

"Good night, Rafayel," you say, the loneliness of your bedroom suddenly becoming more apparent by the second. Your queen size bed feels too large, empty.

He doesn't reply, simply hangs up, the sound of the call disconnecting registering to your ear. You huff, lowering the phone slowly. You stare at the darkened screen as if it holds the key to unraveling this mess, this intoxicating, thrilling, terrifying thing that has just begun.

You take a deep breath, the scent of vanilla clinging to the air around you, a constant reminder of the conversation tonight, plus your encounter Friday night. "Okay," you whisper to yourself, this time with more conviction. "Okay."

Your oversized t-shirt suddenly feels too warm, too confining. You stand up, pacing the room, trying to shake off the lingering energy of his voice, his words. The memory of his description of your bare legs, his imagined touch, sends another shiver through you.

You glance at the clock. It's late, far too late to be thinking about any of this logically. Tomorrow, you decide, you'll figure out what to do, what this all even means. Tomorrow, you'll have to face him in class, face the other students, and pretend that nothing has changed. Pretend the two of you haven’t started playing some dangerous game that could end in very serious consequences.

But something has changed. You know it in the fluttering of your pulse, the electric charge that sizzles beneath your skin now. You know it in the way the world suddenly seems sharper, brighter, more dangerous.

You wander over to your closet, pulling open the door and staring inside. A myriad of colors and styles stare back at you. You wanted to look effortless, like you hadn’t put much thought into this while still delivering enough of a challenge.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "Something nice," he had said. Maybe, just maybe, you'll give him something to think about too.

With a newfound resolve, you hang the outfit you’ve chosen on the door, ready for tomorrow. You extinguish the lights, crawl into bed, and close your eyes. Sleep comes slowly, filled with fragmented images of Rafayel's face, his eyes, his voice, his words.

The incandescent lights of the art studio cast a warm glow on the Monday evening session of the course. The air, thick with the scent of turpentine and acrylic, feels heavy, charged with a nervous energy that mirrors your own. For the other students, they’re dreading the professor’s sharp eye and unguarded criticism. For you, it’s something else entirely.

You find your usual seat, subtly adjusting the chosen outfit – a simple denim skirt that hugs your curves just so, short enough to show off your tanned legs underneath. You’ve paired it with a simple tank top and oversized cardigan, falling dangerously off one shoulder. Effortless, but with a carefully calculated edge.

More students trickle in, their chatter a low murmur that does little to soothe your frayed nerves. You try to focus on preparing your sketchbook, you’ll be starting a new unit today and you want to be ready while keeping your mind distracted.

Then he walks in.

Fuck. 

Of course he looks fantastic, button down shirt rolled to the elbows in a way that's deliciously casual and undone. You have to restrain yourself from running your eyes along his body, the way his dress slacks fit him just right and the touch of unique and certainly expensive jewelry. He was an art piece himself. 

The chatter in the room dies slowly as he walks to the front of the room, his gaze sweeping over you only briefly. You keep your eyes down, not trusting yourself to meet his gaze just yet. Before you, the blank page in your sketchbook anchors you to reality.

“Good evening, class” he says, his apathetic tone in class a stark contrast to the saccharine voice that had floated through the phone last night.

As he begins to outline the new unit, anatomy study, a nervous excitement bubbles within you. As the subject matter of the class slowly increases in difficulty, you're more and more eager to impress him and receive more of his compliments. As your mind wanders, he continues explaining that for class today as an introduction to the unit, each of you is to pick a body part and practice sketching it from reference. The next class you'll choose a different body part, and so forth for a few classes. This will help in later painting projects.

You snap back into reality with Hands. You choose hands. Though it’s an notoriously difficult choice there's something so expressive, so intimate, about them. Plus, you figure it wasn't too weird, a reasonable choice. You quickly flip through a few spare fashion magazines kept in the classroom for references, finding a variety of beauty and perfume ads that should work perfectly, ensuring you get different angles and positions. You focus, trying to capture the delicate balance of bone and tendons, the way the light catches the knuckles, the subtle curve of the fingers. The slow, meditative process is almost soothing to you as you flick between reference and sketch attempting to create a recognizable end product. 

The silence in the room is palpable, broken only by the rustle of paper and the occasional cough. Professor Rafayel strides between workstations, making the occasional quiet comment. You brace yourself for his approach, working diligently on your sketch.

Suddenly, a shadow falls across your page. You look up, and the look he gives you when your eyes meet is disabling, your hand stilling on the paper. His presence alone seems to shift the atmosphere, the air growing thick and charged. He leans closer, the faint scent of his cologne, something fresh, clean and expensive, filling your senses.

"That's... really good," he says, his voice low enough that the other students shouldn’t be able to hear his words, a velvet murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. He traces two fingertips along the sketches, slowly, the way he'd dragged them along your body. "Do you draw in your free time?”

Your cheeks flush, and you reply softly, "Not really." It’s an honest statement, this class being the first time you’ve tapped into your more creative side since your childhood. You try to focus on the sketch in front of you, but it's impossible. His nearness is a distraction, a palpable force that undermines your concentration. Your mind reels of the memory of him hovering over you, the intensity of his presence around you, inside you. God.

"You know," he continues, a playful glint in his eyes, "hands are usually pretty difficult. You've really captured the essence of them." He pauses, then adds, almost casually, “Think you could take it a step further?”

At his words, he leans forward onto your desk, placing his palms down on your workstation. His lithe fingers spread across the cool wood, the light catching the  gold rings that adorn them. The jewelry enchants you, unique and intricate designs you've never seen before. Your eyes dance over them, the noticeable veins on the backs of his palms, his well groomed fingernails, a few smears of paint on his knuckles and fingertips. "Perhaps you could try…drawing from another reference.”

Before you can respond, he snatches your phone from the desk next to you, holding it just out of your reach as you reach for it. In a swift motion, he snaps a picture of his free hand splayed out on the desk, before handing the phone back to you with a smirk. "There. Now you have a reference."

The silence stretches, thick and expectant. He leans closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper as his breath brushes your cheek. “Or you could always go for a more mental reference, I’m sure I gave you enough of those in our Friday evening session.” At his words, he lets his fingertips barely brush along yours on the desk, a faint but searing contact.

His statement holds so much double meaning, feeling yourself blushing at the undeniable realization he was absolutely not talking about this class on Friday, but the way he had tortured you with those very hands in the four walls of your bedroom.

Your breath hitches in your throat. The memory of his touch, the heat, the intensity of that encounter, floods your senses. You look down at your sketchbook, the image of the model's hands blurring into an indistinct mess. He's deliberately blurring the lines, weaving the professional and the personal into a tangled knot. You try to regain control, to push back against the rising tide of desire and anxiety.

“Professor,” another student pipes up, raising a tentative hand and having no idea what they’re interrupting. Rafayel straightens, the playful glint momentarily extinguished. You notice a flash of annoyance in Rafayel’s eyes, before his careful composure returns, turning to go assist your classmate.

The memory of sex with him, the raw intensity of the encounter, clashes with the sterile environment of the classroom. You try to reconcile the two versions of him, the controlled, intellectual professor and the passionate, demanding lover.

He finishes with the other student and briefly catches your eye, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. You quickly look away, pretending to focus on the original reference.

"Alright, everyone," Professor Rafayel announces, knocking his knuckles against his desk twice to draw the classes’ attention, "Ten minutes left. Wrap up your sketches, and then leave them at your stations for me to critique for next class."

The atmosphere in the room shifts again, the deadline injecting a sense of urgency into the air. A quiet murmur begins among the students. With a deep breath, you decide to play along, at least for now. Turning to a new page in your sketchbook, you open the photo of his hand in your photo gallery. You begin to sketch, focusing on the details: the sharp angles of his knuckles, the delicate curve of his wrist, the fine designs of his rings. Each stroke of your pencil feels charged, a subtle act of rebellion and desire.

The ten minutes fly by.

As the last minute dwindles to its final seconds, you risk a glance at Professor Rafayel. He stands at the front of the class, a seemingly disengaged observer, yet you can feel his gaze on you, a tangible weight. Your fingers tremble slightly as you add a final flourish to the sketch, the graphite smudging ever so slightly. It's a far cry from perfect, a rushed interpretation of a hands that already hold so much power over you. It feels mildly unhealthy, the control he has. 

"Time's up," he announces, his voice resonating through the room, each syllable laced with a subtle undercurrent that only you seem to hear. "Please leave your sketchbooks on your desks. Have a good evening, everyone."

The other students begin to pack their belongings, the low hum of conversation filling the space as they filter out of the room, oblivious to the unmistakable tension that still sizzles between you and Rafayel. You linger, pretending to look for something important in your bag, your heart pounding audibly in your chest. You know he's waiting for the moment the two of you are alone again, coiled and ready to strike.

The last student exits, the door clicking shut behind them with a soft thud, leaving you alone with him in the sudden, almost suffocating silence. He doesn't speak, doesn't move. He simply watches you, his brilliant blue-pink eyes darkened with something predatory.

You finally meet his gaze, a silent challenge passing between you. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mixture of apprehension and raw desire. You rise from your seat, gathering your courage, slinging your bag over your shoulder in signal of your departure.

"Goodnight, Professor," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. You take one hesitant step toward the door, feelings unsteady.

He doesn't return the sentiment. Instead, he takes a few slow steps towards you, closing the distance that separates you both. His eyes don’t leave yours, burning with an intensity that halts you where you stand. The scent of him surrounds you, enveloping you in its intoxicating warmth. You barely breathe, unable to tear your gaze from his, once again rooted to the spot.

"You forgot something," he murmurs, his voice a low purr that vibrates through the air.

He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. He holds your gaze, running his thumb lightly along your bottom lip, your cool breath catching on his skin. With his left hand, he slowly reaches for your sketchbook where you’ve left it on your desk.

Thumbing through the pages of your notebook, you know he’s looking to see if you’ve met his challenge, played into the silent game between you two. Settling on the page where the sketch of his own hand lies, a low hum of amusement escapes him. He holds the drawing for you to see, his expression unreadable. It feels like an eternity. He then slowly and deliberately tears the piece of paper out of your sketchbook, folding it up perfectly before placing the paper in the back pocket of his pants, never breaking eye contact with you.

”Consider this one…extra credit.” He smirks, dragging his eyes down your body and back up. 

The air crackles with unspoken words, with promises and threats. He's playing with you, pushing you to the edge, and you're letting him.

”Of…course, professor,” you manage, keeping your voice somewhat even, “Well, I…should head home now, I guess.”

"Really?" he says, his voice dropping even lower, almost a caress. "I’ve been thinking about you…all weekend."

He pauses, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Friday seems like a lifetime ago. I feel like I haven't seen you in decades. Come home with me?"

You swallow; the looming decision of another night spent with him throwing you further into this mess you’ve agreed to. At his place, no less, not the safe haven of your apartment. You aren’t sure why, but you panic at the idea of him having such complete, thorough control over you so easily.

“I-not tonight,” you manage, the words feeling weak and unconvincing even to your own ears. It’s nearly impossible to stop yourself from leaning into him, only an arm’s length away. You hate how breathless you sound, how easily he throws you off balance.

He takes another step toward you, making a soft sound of discontentment. His eyes darken further, a flicker of something akin to disappointment crossing his face. But it’s quickly masked, replaced by a knowing smirk. "Playing hard to get now?" he murmurs, amused.

You bristle, trying to regain some semblance of control. "I just... I have a lot of studying to do." It's a pathetic excuse, and you know it. He knows it too.

"Studying," he repeats, drawing the word out, his voice dripping with disbelief. "I'm sure I could 'help' you with your studies. I'm quite knowledgeable in many…areas." He lets his gaze drift suggestively down your body again, making you flush crimson.

You shake your head, trying to ignore the way your pulse is hammering in your ears. "No, really. I need to focus."

A loaded statement, really. Your studies were the last thing you were worried about focusing on, instead thinking of how you’d allowed this relationship to consume you. 

He sighs dramatically, leaning back against a desk, his pose radiating effortless power. “What, you want me to beg?” The tone in his voice is low, delicious, and a slow smile spreads across his features.

You narrow your eyes, “Rafayel-“ but you’re interrupted as he takes another step toward you, your bodies mere inches apart. He tilts his head down just slightly, warm breath fanning across your face as his hand finds your hip.

The light touch sends a jolt through you, bypassing your rational mind and heading straight for your core. You press your lips together, fighting the instinct to lean into him, to close the remaining distance between you. The scent of warm amber and something else, something inherently him, fills your senses, making it even harder to resist.

"Don't make me, I’m not above it whatsoever." he murmurs, his voice rough with a barely concealed hunger. His fingers flex slightly on your hip, a subtle reminder of his control. "I'm not known for my patience."

Your breath catches. You know that's right. A part of you jumps at the offer to head home with him, to give in to your desire as it becomes more undeniable. But another part, the part that remembers the consequences of your actions, screams for you to keep the distance carefully placed between the two of you while you still can.

You force yourself to meet his gaze, trying to project an air of indifference you certainly don't feel. "What if I want you to beg?" you challenge, your voice coming out quieter and shakier than you intended. At your words, his other hand comes up to hold you tenderly by the back of your neck, a heady balance between intimacy and control.

A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face, a spark of something almost feral igniting in his eyes. "Oh, darling," he murmurs, his voice laced with amusement and a hint of something darker. "You have no idea what you're asking for."

He leans down, his lips brushing yours in an almost kiss. "You really want me to beg for you?"

Before you can claim his lips, he begins tracing hungry kisses along your jaw, the sharp graze of his teeth pulling a short gasp from your lips. Almost involuntarily, your hands find his chest, feeling firm muscle through his button-down shirt.

“Rafa-“ You begin, whimpering as he interrupts you with a quick nip at your throat.

“Professor.” He mumbles the command into your neck, heat spreading through your limbs in response to his quiet dominance. “We’re still in class.”

“P-professor,” you correct yourself, gripping the smooth fabric of his shirt in your thin fingers. “This…we, shouldn’t do this here.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression a mixture of amusement and raw desire. Your protests are so halfhearted, he clearly sees right through them. The light in his eyes is intoxicating as he waits for you to continue.

Still holding the back of your neck with one hand, his thumb caressing your skin gently, he whispers, "Really? You don’t want to? Ask me, and I’ll do it. Give me permission to have you." There is a dangerous edge to his voice, a promise of what's to come if you give him the go-ahead.

You know you should stop this. You know you should push him away, remind him of the rules, of the consequence of being caught like this, in the classroom where anyone could walk in. But the words catch in your throat, lost in the overwhelming sensation of his touch, his scent, his presence.

"Beg," you finally whisper, the word barely audible, a surrender as much as a challenge.

A slow smile spreads across his face, a look of triumph and pure, unadulterated desire. He knows he's won. He knows he's broken through your defenses, and he's not about to waste the opportunity.

He slowly releases your neck, letting his hand trail down your shoulder, sending a wave of shivers down your spine. He takes a step back, creating a small space between you, just enough to admire you, to savor the moment.

Dropping to one knee, his eyes never leaving yours. The sight is unreal, the beauty of him in the warm glow of the lights, reverent before you. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, resting your hands on his firm shoulders. His hands wrap around the backs of your thighs possessively, fingers digging gently into the flesh. When he looks up at you, slight crease between his brows in a teasing pout, your heart stutters. 

"Please," he says, his voice a low, husky plea that vibrates straight through you. "Please, let me have you. Let me have you right here, show you how much I've been thinking about you, how much I want you. Just say the word, and I'm yours to command. Let me take you home, have you in my bed with me tonight. Let me worship you, every inch of you. Please, darling, let me have this night with you. I’ll do anything.”

The vulnerability in his eyes is disarming, the naked desire in his voice sending waves of hot need straight through you. The sight of him kneeling before you, humbling himself with such raw need, is almost too much to bear. The rules, the consequences, the reservations – they all seem to fade into insignificance in the face of this overwhelming moment.

“Very convincing, professor.” You manage, attempting to maintain some semblance of control over your reaction. 

His hands reach up, gently clasping yours where they rest on his shoulders. He brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a kiss against your skin, his eyes still locked on yours.

“Please,” he repeats, the word a soft, desperate whisper against your skin. “Just say yes.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the pull of his desire drawing you closer. The image of the night that awaits you, filled with his touch, his kisses, his complete and utter focus on you, is almost too alluring to resist. The memory is so fresh your body can almost recall the feeling of him.

“Okay,” you breathe, “I’m yours.”

Those words seem to shatter something in him, and he lets out a soft sound of approval.

He doesn't move, doesn't break eye contact, as if still confirming your consent, ensuring this is truly what you want. His eyes blaze with a possessive fire, a silent promise of the pleasure he intends to inflict. The tension that has been coiling between you snaps, replaced by an electric anticipation that crackles in the air.

”I’m yours, Rafayel.” you repeat yourself, your body aching for him to make a move. 

Then, the corner of his lips curls into a slow, triumphant smile. The hunt is over, the prize claimed.

"Mine," he murmurs, the word falling from his lips like a primal claim. He stands, moving with a fluid grace that belies the raw hunger in his eyes. The space he created to admire you is instantly gone, replaced by the solid warmth of his body pressed against yours.

He doesn't rush. There's no need to. He's got you exactly where he wants you now. You can tell he’s savoring the moment, drawing out the anticipation, making the promise of what's to come even more potent.

He slides one hand up your back, pressing you closer, his fingers splaying against your skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His other hand cups your face, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

"Say it again," he demands, his voice low and husky, thick with desire. "Tell me you're mine."

The words are a command, a test, a final surrender. Your self control is shot, and you can no longer will yourself to deny this. The heat in his eyes, the possessive grip of his hands, the overwhelming desire that has consumed you makes resistance impossible.

"I'm yours," you whisper, the words a breathy admission. It’s so honest your chest aches, the feelings you’ve been forcing down coming to the surface. 

His smile widens, a flash of pure, unadulterated triumph. He leans down, his lips claiming yours in a kiss that is anything but gentle. It's a kiss that steals your breath, that sets your blood on fire, that erases all thought and reason. A kiss of ownership. You hum appreciatively against his lips, the taste of him a heavenly reminder.

He pulls you closer, his body molding against yours, letting you feel the full extent of his arousal. Every inch of you is tingling, alive, burning with a need only he can satisfy.

His arms fall around your waist, lifting you onto him with ease, your legs wrapping easily around his waist almost involuntarily. He backs you up onto a nearby table, planting you on the edge carefully without breaking the kiss. His hands roam hungrily along your body, searching for exposed skin and traveling under your shirt.

Before you can react, he’s kneeling before you once more, staring up at you with a look of mischief. His hands trail from your hips to your knees, spreading your legs for him to settle comfortably between. The lewd action bares you to him, only a thin layer of lace covering your arousal. You can feel flush spreading up your neck as the cool classroom air hits the exposed flesh of your upper thigh under your skirt. There is a devilish glint in his eyes that levels you, and you suddenly know the extent of his plans.

“You wanted me on my knees for you,” his breath is hot against your inner thigh, causing you to gasp audibly. Large hands find your hips again, pulling you toward him so you’re perched at the edge of the desk. Sliding his hands along the exposed skin, he nuzzles into your plush inner thigh. “Well, you got your wish.”

He looks up at you, his eyes gleaming with desire and anticipation. His I;Mhands are still on your thighs, holding you gently but with a firmness that suggests ownership and urgency. His gaze never leaves yours as he slowly, reverently, places a soft kiss on the inside of your knee, tracing a path up your leg with his lips. You gasp at the contact, your hands finding his hair, fingers tugging gently at the roots.

His fingers dig into your flesh as he reaches the apex of your thighs, his thumbs gently brushing against the silky skin there. Sinfully, he places open mouthed kisses that leave you whimpering, before sucking a small mark on the tender flesh there. You writhe under his touch, a silent plea for more. He smirks, clearly enjoying the control he has over your body. But there's a tenderness in his eyes, an appreciation that's apparent even through the raw desire.

Possessive hands slide your legs ever further apart, pushing your skirt up around your hips to give himself more access. Your drenched panties are completely exposed to him now, and he makes a low sound of satisfaction at the sight, sinking his teeth into your upper thigh gently.

He slowly pulls back, his eyes glued to the sight of your flushed face and parted lips. The air between you crackles with anticipation. He reaches up, his fingers tracing the lacy edge of your panties. "May I?" he whispers, his eyes questioning.

You nod, unable to speak, your body humming with need.

Locking his eyes with yours, he dips two fingers under the fabric, moaning softly at your pooling arousal. A painfully slow drag of his digits along your center nearly drives you mad. The sensation is immediate and overwhelming, drawing soft sounds of appreciation from you. His voice is hoarse as he groans, "So wet for me already, cutie?”

His fingers hook around the thin waistband, gently easing the panties down your legs. You lift your hips to help him, your skin tingling at the sudden exposure. He pauses, letting the panties fall to the floor, his gaze roaming over your bareness with undisguised hunger. Shamelessly, he grabs them from where they’ve fallen, pocketing them.

"Beautiful," he breathes, his voice reverent. He runs a hand up the inside of your thigh, sending a shiver through you. "So beautiful."

Without another word, he gently presses his face into your core, hypnotic eyes fluttering shut. You gasp, your body arching with pleasure as his tongue drags languidly along your sensitive clit. Once, twice. He knows exactly what you want, what you need, and he's not making you wait for even a second.

"God, you taste so good to me-" the hum of his voice creates sinful vibrations against your aching center, sending shock waves through you. He laps greedily at your pooling arousal, causing you to writhe against his touch. 

“Rafayel, oh my god-“ you whimper, biting down on the back of your hand to stifle your sounds, acutely aware of the ringing silence of the classroom around the two of you. The art building is slowly emptying at this time, but that doesn’t necessarily prevent you from being discovered.

Rafayel ignores your plea, his expert tongue continuing its dance. Each flick, each swirl, each torturous press sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. You grip his hair, alternating between urging him closer and trying to pull him away, the attention from his mouth borderline overstimulating.

His tongue continues its relentless assault, and you're teetering on the edge of oblivion, your body trembling. "Rafayel," you plead again, his name a ragged sigh against the quiet studio. "Someone… someone could come in."

He pulls back slightly, the loss of contact leaving you reeling, a greedy glint in his eyes. The sight of your arousal shining on his chin is absolutely lewd, and you moan appreciatively. He watches your reaction as he slowly pushes two digits inside you, your eyes flicking down to the hand you spent so much time sketching during class. Those gold rings that you practically memorized, coated in your need for him as he fucks you slowly with his fingers. He's clearly thinking the same thing as you, smirking as his attention flicks between your face and the way he's touching you. 

"Then you'll have to be quick for me, won't you?" His voice is a low rasp, laced with challenge and a hint of amusement. To emphasize his statement, he drops his head back down, placing open-mouthed kisses over your sensitive clit.

His words are the final push you need. The tension coils tighter and tighter in your gut, your thighs pressing around his head with the intensity of your pleasure. With his free hand, he gently urges your legs back open, pinning you with a firm grip so he can keep accessing you. The relentless assault is driving you insane, and the fear of being caught only amplifies the pleasure.

"Rafayel..." you gasp, your nails digging into his scalp. "I… I'm close…"

He seems to sense it, his movements becoming more desperate, fingers curling toward himself as he finds the spot that makes you fall apart. His tongue strokes and swipes against your clit torturously, a dizzying pattern. The sudden switch between soft caresses and firm strokes is akin to a paintbrush on canvas. It’s a rhythm you’re sure is meaningful, but you can't place it.

Until it dawns on you. The languid curves, firm lines, form the letters of his name in repetition against your sensitive center. A claim on you.

R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-

You press your hand firmly to your mouth, holding back the symphony of moans that threaten to betray you both in the silence, as a wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy rips through you. You buck against him, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. The studio swims in and out of focus, the only reality the feel of his mouth on you, the sound of your own ragged breaths. His soft, appreciative sighs as he laps up your release make you absolutely feral, in disbelief how a man could be so perfect.

"Good girl." he hums, the lingering glow of your climax making you whimper softly. 

Just as the last tremors subside, a loud knock booms against the studio door, followed by a familiar voice. Thank god the classroom door is locked at this hour. "Hey, is anyone still here? I thought I left my phone…"

Your eyes snap open, wide with panic as they find his. You're still perched on the edge of the table, skirt hiked up, completely exposed. Rafayel is kneeling between your legs, his face flushed, his hair disheveled. The image is damning.

He, however, doesn't seem fazed, pulling away smoothly with a sly grin playing on his lips. You flush in embarrassment at the way his chin glistens in the low light, your release lingering there. He winks, wiping the skin clean with his thumb as he slowly stands, his hands trailing appreciatively up your body as he goes.

"Give me a minute!" he calls out, his voice perfectly even, his usual aloof tone taking over. It betrays none of the passion that just consumed you both. Staring down at you, his eyes twinkle with mischief, and you can only pin him with a silent pleading stare.

Rafayel gives you a pointed look, his eyebrow arching in challenge. He knew your buttons, knew exactly how to play you. The thought of being caught, the adrenaline still coursing through you, mixed with the lingering pleasure, was a potent combination.

He dips his head, tracing the sensitive skin of your neck with his lips, his hand sliding between your legs once more. His fingers find your abused clit, still exquisitely sensitive, and press gently. “One more, just for me, baby.”

“Rafayel, no way-“ you hiss, trying to suppress a groan as you grab his wrist to stop him. Panic and searing pleasure mix as he circles your abused clit with the pads of his fingers.

They press a tantalizing rhythm against you, mimicking the strokes of his tongue from moments ago. "R-Rafayel," you manage, a strangled whisper lost in the sudden hammering of your heart. Your thighs tremble, fighting the instinctive urge to clamp shut, to deny him, to deny yourself. But the pleasure is too intense, too fresh.

"Hurry, darling," he murmurs, his breath ghosting against your ear. "Don't wanna get caught."

You bite down hard on your lip, the metallic tang of blood a grounding counterpoint to the rising tide of sensation. Your back arches, your nails digging into the edge of the table as another wave threatens to engulf you. He seems to revel in your struggle, his fingers tightening, deepening the pressure until you're on the precipice once more.

"Almost..." he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. "Almost there..."

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. The student calls out, growing impatient, "Erm...Professor? Are you there?"

You whine quietly into Rafayel's neck. God, this was actually slightly mortifying.

"One more," he murmured against your ear, his voice a low command. "For me. Now."

The sheer audacity of it, with someone waiting just outside the door, should have enraged you. But the need was still there, a throbbing ache that refused to be ignored. His fingers find their rhythm, and you bite back a whimper.

"Rafayel, no, I can't," you gasped, but the weak protest was swallowed by a fresh wave of pleasure. He ignored your words, his focus absolute, his touch knowing. The world narrowed to the feel of his hand on you, the sound of your own ragged breathing, the urgent pulse of your desire.

"Yes, you can," he breathed, increasing the pressure, his eyes locked on yours. "You will. For me."

The control he exerted, the way he held your gaze, was both terrifying and intoxicating. You were putty in his hands, your body responding to his will with shameful eagerness. The tension built rapidly, another orgasm clawing its way up your spine. You squeezed your eyes shut, surrendering to the sensation, the urgency amplified by the knowledge that someone was waiting on the other side of the door. Your fingers tighten around his wrist.

"Rafayel…" you whimpered into hid neck, arching against his hand, the pleasure almost unbearable. You’re desperate to disguise the sound of your rushed release.

"That's it," he whispered, his voice a husky encouragement. "Come for me, cutie."

And you did. A second orgasm ripped through you, even more intense than the first, stealing your breath and leaving you trembling. You clung to his shoulders, desperately trying to regain control as the last shivers subsided.

He presses a quick, fleeting kiss to your lips before stepping backward, leaving you completely exposed. With a final, lingering look, he turns and strides towards the door, leaving you a mess of raw nerves. You scramble, sliding off the desk and straightening your skirt, painfully aware that his panties are still in your pocket. Flushed, you attempt to smooth your hair and appear natural, grabbing your sketchbook unassumingly.

Rafayel unlocks the door, a casual smile on his face. "Sorry about that. I was right in the middle of something. Lost track of time," he says to the figure standing in the doorway, a student from your class whose name you can’t remember. "What were you looking for?"

You stand frozen, watching the exchange, your heart still pounding in your chest. The student, oblivious to the scene he had almost interrupted, launches into a story about his misplaced phone. He's completely unaware of the chaos he'd narrowly avoided. Rafayel listens patiently, his expression calm and collected, as if nothing had happened.

As they spoke, Rafayel's vibrant eyes flickered towards you, a silent message passing between you. A mixture of amusement and triumph danced in their depths. He had orchestrated the entire scene, pushing you your boundaries for the thrill. And you, despite your better judgment, had played along. 

By the time your classmate finds what he’s looking for and leaves, your heart rate has finally dropped significantly.

The door clicks shut once again, the sound echoing, throwing the two of you back into heated silence. Rafayel turns back to you, the casual façade dropping away, revealing the raw, almost unsettling intensity beneath. He doesn't speak, just stands there, watching you, his gaze a palpable weight. You can practically feel the heat radiating off him, a silent reminder of the pleasure he'd so effortlessly coaxed from you just moments ago.

You break the silence first, your voice coming out shaky. "You’re insane."

A slow grin spreads across his lips, a predatory curve that sends a fresh shiver down your spine. "Perhaps," he concedes, taking a step closer. "But you seem to enjoy my brand of insanity."

"Don't," you warned, taking a step back. "Don't try to romanticize what just happened. It was reckless, irresponsible, and frankly, incredibly embarrassing."

"But enjoyable, nonetheless," he countered, a smirk playing on his lips. "Admit it, cutie, you liked it. I saw that look on your face, felt how worked up you were with someone right outside."

Heat flushed your cheeks again, and you hated him for being so perceptive.

"That's not the point," you insisted, struggling to maintain your composure. "This can't happen again. I told you I wanted this, but you’re risking it on purpose. You know exactly what happens if we get caught like this."

Rafayel’s eyes gleamed, the thrill of the near-miss still coursing through him. "Caught?" he echoed, tilting his head, the picture of mock innocence. "But what's the harm in a little artistic collaboration? Besides," he adds, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "isn't the risk part of the fun?"

"Sure, until you take it a step too far." you snap, your voice rising despite your best efforts. "It could ruin both of our careers! You’re more established than me, you could survive a scandal, but I can’t afford one. I’m trying to graduate, get a decent job! Not to mention, what if someone had actually come in? What would you even have said? It's not a game, Rafayel." You huff, crossing your arms. "This is a professional environment, not your personal playground."

”Professor.” he corrects you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “This is a professional environment, after all.”

You let out a groan of frustration at his teasing, knowing he isn’t taking this seriously whatsoever. 

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air, making your skin prickle. "Such heated indignation," he murmured, taking another step closer, invading your personal space. "It's almost as arousing as… well, you know." His eyes flickered downwards, a blatant reminder of the pleasure he had extracted from you just moments ago.

You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to scream. "Stop it," you hissed, your voice barely audible. "Just… stop."

He ignores your half-hearted plea, his gaze unwavering. "Tell me, cutie," he purred, his fingers reaching out to trace a line down your arm, sending shivers down your spine, "what is it that scares you more? Getting caught, or admitting how much you enjoyed it?"

You flinched away from his touch, your heart hammering against your ribs. He was pushing you, deliberately provoking you. "I'm leaving," you declared, grabbing your bag with trembling hands. "I need… air."

He raises an eyebrow at you, hands lingering at your waist as you attempt to pull away from him. You narrow your eyes at him, “I mean it, Professor, I’ll…see you Wednesday.”

You turn on your heel, fueled by your frustration at his teasing and the thrill of the close call. If he was going to toy with you, you could do the same, rather than playing right into his hand. You certainly wouldn’t be allowing him to take you home, not yet. 

The heavy classroom door swings shut slowly behind you, and you can hear him laughing quietly to himself as you storm out, only further fueling your anger. Was this really all a game to him, while you were out here catching feelings?

As you step out of the art building, the cool night air hits your face, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere of the classroom. You know that this is just the beginning, that the game has only just started. And you, whether you like it or not, are a player.

The walk home to your apartment is a blur. As much as you don’t want to admit it, the encounter has left you in some sort of trance, your mind drifting repeatedly back to him no matter how hard you try to resist it. As you reach your apartment, unlock the door, and step inside, you're not really there. Your mind is still in that classroom, still trapped in his gaze.

As you lean on the cool granite countertop in your kitchen, your phone’s message notification tone sounds from within your bag. Your stomach flips, but there’s nothing left of your weak restraint anymore. You cross the room, retrieving your device to read the message undoubtedly from Rafayel.

you really want to torture me, huh

Another message, coming in right as you read the first. 

i’m really not good at being patient, darling

As your eyes scan over the second message, your phone suddenly starts to ring. You hold your breath, weighing your options for only a moment, before accepting the call. 

thank you for reading ! chapter 3 soon ♡

[3fingersofscotch]

Cute!

rafayel snuggle smut. but it's less sleepy vibes and more like he's holding you hostage while spooning

just rafayel getting you off, groping, rafayel's scent kink, sweet talking still 🫶

˚꩜˖°⋆🐚‧₊˚ ⋅🌊｡𖦹°‧

"Don't move," Rafayel's gentle voice reverbs from right behind your ear. You can feel the words through his chest, pressing up against your back.

He sighs, and it's like he melts into you a little— his nose presses against your hair, breathing in deeply, his lips leaving a soft and quick kiss right behind your ear.

Rafayel's laptop is on the coffee table in front of you, some sort of long video playing. YouTube autoplay, nothing either of you were paying attention to anymore.

His arm squeezes you closer. You lightly scratch against the flexing of his muscles, just to see his skin rise. He smells your hair again, followed by another happy sigh.

"I like this shampoo," he finally speaks again.

You can't help but smile as you reply, "It's your shampoo, of course you like it."

"Mm-hmm," his arm slides down slightly. He lifts the edge of your shirt, just enough to press his palm against your stomach. His hand is warm, and it feels as nice as it usually does. "That makes it even better. And it smells different on you."

He rubs his palm against your skin before continuing, voice in a gentle lull. "Your hair, and your skin... Just don't move. I wanna smell you forever."

"That's creepy," you mumble back.

"Nuh-uh, you're creepy." He immediately responds, not even missing a beat. He pinches the fat on your stomach now, not enough to hurt, but just as a small retaliation.

You want to try and turn to look at him now, but he doesn't let you. He holds you down enough until you're forced to stare straight ahead again. "I'm not the one sniffing your hair," you say.

Rafayel chuckles from his chest, and his hand creeps up almost without you noticing. Further under your shirt, up and up— "You wouldn't be hugging me after the gym if you didn't like smelling me. And you like it 'cause you loooove me."

"You—" He squeezes your breast, and your words cut off. "What're you doing?"

"Nothing. We're cuddling. Do you like my shampoo?"

You blink. "What?"

"My shampoo. That you use here. Do you like it?" He patiently clarifies, as if the conversation is supposed to be expected. But it's a bit hard to focus on the words and not the fuzzy feeling in your stomach, when his fingers grope the fat of your breast, stretching out and massaging the plushy flesh.

Not gently, but not rough—

You swallow. "It's nice, yeah."

"Yeah?" He hums against your neck, and his thumb brushes over your nipple, back and forth. And you can't help but push back against him, him and his all-encompassing warmth.

He doesn't grind up against you like you expect him to. He huffs, instead, hand groping hard again, until you squeak.

"It's only nice? I spend a lot of money on that. Can't believe it's only nice." Rafayel pouts.

"Fi–Fine, it's very nice. I'm sure it's made from glowing jellyfish mucus or something—"

He cups the bottom of your breast, bounces the fat slightly, and he lets out a pleased sound. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," he adds after.

You grab at his forearm, gripping at it until you can firmly pull at it, not sure if you want to pull it away from you or down, or make sure he can't move his hand away from you at all. He doesn't react, doesn't even acknowledge it.

He keeps fondling you while he presses his neck further into your hair, breathing deeply again. It feels a little more obscene this time.

It does something for him. You hear his voice in your ear, a low moan.

You sigh yourself, before speaking out again. "Are you gonna..."

"What?" Rafayel grins. "Am I gonna...?"

"Are you gonna do anything? Like, yourself?" There's a slight whine in your voice. You can feel him hard against you, and no matter how much you squirm, he doesn't push back up against you. It has to be purposeful.

"I'm doing plenty," he leaves a wet kiss on your skin. "We're just cuddling."

You groan. "This is... cruel and unusual cuddling..."

But if he's going to be stubborn about this, then you may as well settle into it. Your eyes close as you relax further against him, and relax against the feeling of his hand, heart fluttering.

"There you go," he drawls lightly. "Cuddling is a two-way street, you know. It doesn't work if you're all stiff."

"Shouldn't that be my line?"

Rafayel snorts. "My stiffness isn't relevant right now."

You whine. "But why not?" You open your eyes again, turning your head just enough to pout up at him, and his eyes crinkle softly.

"'Cause you don't need to do anything about it. You're just pretty enough like this." He gives you one last squeeze, before his hand drops back down.

He shoves his hand into your waistband, patience forgotten. You gasp quickly when his fingers draw a straight line over your panties, rubbing back and forth.

"But I'm not even doing anything..." You reply, sighing.

"Exaaactly," Rafayel shuffles up against you. His nose presses against your neck, right as his fingers press into your covered slit, curiously feeling just how much wetness has soaked through.

He continues, "You don't need to do a single thing to get me off. You're pretty." He presses a wet kiss near your pulse, speaking into your skin. "And you smell good." He peppers another kiss. "And I love you."

"What more do I need?" He asks, and your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jolting forward. He stubbornly presses against you for a few more moments before he gives in and slips his hand underneath the fabric entirely.

"Raf—" You gasp at the rush of sensation, arching back against him. You blindly reach out behind you, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt. You don't think you'd be able to loosen your grip even if you wanted to.

"And you can drop the fake protests, yeah? We both know you're more than happy to just stay put and take it."

It breaks the tension, a little bit. Enough for you to struggle through a surprised laugh— voice falling off into a pitched moan.

"Rude," you gasp. "So, so... so rude..."

Rafayel spreads you open, stroking at your outer folds before dipping in, wet and dripping.

"Oh." You suddenly keen as his fingers push in deeply, scissoring at your walls, in and out, until the squelching can be heard through your clothes and the rustling. In and out, already setting a fixed pace.

You're still struggling with your thighs, squeezing them against Rafayel's hand. But he doesn't seem to mind. He doesn't bother forcing them open. He just presses his whole palm more firmly against you, pressing down on your clit—

And you jolt from the sensation, pushing up against him, close close close, as your hips instinctively try to get away.

"Good?" He asks, voice quiet and low.

"Yeah, yeah— Really good, super good— So, so, so good."

He groans, jutting his own hips against you for a second, almost accidentally.

You don't get a chance to grind back against him, not when he starts fingering you in earnest, the weight of his hand heavy against your wet cunt, the slick sounds embarrassingly loud.

Rafayel scrapes his teeth on your skin at the next whine you let out, and you know he means business when he makes sure to keep a consistent pace. And something about it has you keening closer to the edge that you should be, fingers slipped off his arm before grabbing again, moans breaking out again.

"Raf— You have to slow down," you cry out, voice breaking.

"Why?" He asks simply, casually.

"I'm gonna— I don't wanna, yet, it's too fast—"

He laughs. "You can cum, pretty girl, that's the point. I want you to cum. All over my fingers, yeah?"

Rafayel grinds his palm against you even more, his fingers pressing against that spongy spot inside of you, the spot that makes you keen without fail, eyes tearing up because it's too good and there's nowhere to go except to stay.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty..." His mumbles against your skin are almost unheard.

You think you say something back to him, stutter through another reply, but the content of it all escapes you now. You babble through some sort of response as Rafayel brings you up and up and higher still.

You gasp suddenly, freezing for a brief second. All you can do is reach back to grab onto his shirt again, warning him without words. He knows what you're trying to tell him, of course. He probably knows it better than you do.

"There you go, there you go..." Rafayel keeps stretching you out, your wetness audibly smacking against his knuckles. "Just relax with me, let it come, I'm not going anywhere."

He continues even as you gasp on your own moans. "I've got you, I've got you..."

And of course, of course it finally hits— he builds you up higher and higher until you finally slip past that edge, stomach dropping, back arching as you cry out.

You writhe against him through your climax, thighs squeezing his hand so tightly that you're not even entirely sure how he manages to keep going, not slowing down even a moment.

He lets you ride out the full extent of your peak, until everything within you finally starts to still. You gasp for breath. Waiting more for the shaking to stop, as Rafayel slips his fingers out, and lazily pats at your puffy lips. Good job, the gesture seems to say.

You can finally turn your head all the way now, to look at his face, Rafayel's warm eyes gazing at you already. He leans in to kiss you indulgently. Soft and gentle and a little wet, his favorite kinds of kisses to give you.

"Do you need anything?" He asks you, still close enough for you to feel his breath against your lips. It takes you a moment to find your words again.

"No," you say quietly. "Do you?" You ask right back, double meaning intended. You know he's still hard.

"Nope. Nada." He smiles and kisses you again. No arguing allowed.

You blink slowly, still trying to catch up to the world, but the sleepiness creeps in. Rafayel catches on and pulls you over until you're fully facing him, and then some. Until your cheek is against him and your body rests on top of his.

Warm.

You don't drift off to sleep that fast, but you let your mind doze off as Rafayel wraps his arms around you. He puts his hand underneath the back of your shirt to soothingly stroke your skin.

You melt further onto him, as close as the two of you can be.