#Temperature Controller for Heater | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satrs · 2 months ago

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In TOOOO Deep!

SYNOPSIS. Trapped and even thinner patience, neither can escape the heat, or each other. One question remains: who will break first?

FEAT. Xavier. Zayne. Rafayel. Sylus. Caleb. xfem!reader

TAGS. 18+ CONTENT! MDNI! smeggual content. Forced proximity. unprotected intercourse. dörty talk. size k!ink. refering to yer' püüsy as 'her'. doggy. slight exhibitionism. sylus & zayne are married to reader. fingering, cunnilingus in calebs. slight roleplay in calebs. heavyyy praise in sylus. kinda soft seggs in sylus.

✎ A/N; I CAN'T ESCAPE THESE GUYS PLEASE RELEASE MEEEEE! (please don't I'm jolly as hell in my gooner cave) Much love and happy reading! <3

XAVIER ꩜ Caught In Heat!

Who knew that a duo mission with your fellow hunter would end up like this? You and him trapped in a random rundown motel somewhere in nirvana with an angry storm brewing outside?

Well, shit happens.

The power flickers, casting deep shadows across the room, and the air smells like rain-soaked pavement and dust. The shitty heater barely works, leaving the cold to settle in your bones, but the real reason you’re shivering isn’t the temperature.

It’s him.

The lights flicker again, barely holding, and the air is damp with humidity. Rain pounds against the windows, a relentless, violent rhythm. You should be resting, saving your strength for whatever waits beyond this storm. But instead, you’re here, standing at the edge of the bed, pulse pounding, your body drawn tight with something far more dangerous than the mission itself.

Across the room, Xavier watches you, bright eyes sharp even in the dim light. He’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s looking at you. Calculating. Assessing. Like he already knows what you want before you do.

“You’re staring,” he says, voice cool, measured.

You swallow, shifting under his gaze. “So are you.”

A ghost of a smirk tugs at his lips. “I always watch what's mine.”

The words send a pulse of heat straight to your cunt.

You take a step toward him, testing. “Then take it.”

The shift in his expression is instant. A spark of something dark, something starving, flashes in his eyes.

Xavier moves fast. One second he’s across the room, the next he’s got you pinned against the wall, braced hand beside your head. His body presses into yours, solid and unyielding, his warmth seeping into you through the layers of damp clothing.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for.” His voice is low, dangerous, the barest hint of a growl curling around the words, ghosting over your lips.

You tilt your chin up, refusing to back down. “Then show me.”

is lips crush against yours at that with a force that steals your breath, his fingers sliding down to grip your throat, holding you still as he claims you completely. The hand is cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressing into yours.

Your fingers tangle in his uniform, tugging, desperate for more. He growls against your mouth, then suddenly spins you, shoving you onto the bed in one swift motion.

“On your knees, angel.” he commands, his tone sharp, controlled.

You obey, pulse hammering as you brace yourself on the mattress. The air shifts behind you, and then his hands are on your waist. His fingers press into your skin, mapping every inch of you like he’s memorizing it.

“You want me?” His voice is right at your ear now, his breath hot against your skin, as he swats a teasing clasp to your ass. “Right here? Now?”

Your hands fist in the sheets. “M-mhmm.”

His fingers trail down, slipping between your legs, finding you already soaked. He lets out a sharp breath, his control fracturing at the edges.

“What a mess” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through your slick folds, “Bet you've been like this the whole mission.”

You whimper, pushing back against his touch, but he pulls away, leaving you aching.

Then, your breath catches at the sound of a zipper before Xavier grips your hips aligning his mushroomy tip to your clenchin entrance, and slams into you in one brutal thrust.

Your vision whites out, your entire body arching as you stretch around him, the sheer size of him stealing the air from your lungs. A ragged gasp rips from your throat as he sinks deep, so deep you swear you feel him in your stomach.

“Too much?” His voice is taunting, but caring, something needy behind it. You shake your head, nails digging into the sheets. “Wan' more.”

A dark chuckle rings your ear. “Greedy.”

Xavier doesn’t ease into it, doesn’t give you time to adjust. His thrusts are sharp, precise, calculated—like he knows exactly how to break you apart, how to leave you gasping and shaking beneath him. Each snap of his hips punches a sound from your throat, his pace relentless, merciless.

“Arch that damn back f' me,” he mutters, voice thick with something raw. You comply, arching further into the matress as your eyes roll to the back of your skull. “Jussssst like that.”

A sharp slap! lands on your ass, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through you. You cry out, but he only tightens his grip, yanking you back onto him harder, needier.

“This what you wanted?” He leans down, his teeth grazing your ear, hand clasping around your neck to push you flush against his chest. “Letting me fuck you like this during a mission? Tsk, Tsk, what a unreliable hunter.”

You’re beyond words now, lost in the way his damned cock hits the bulls-eye in your insides over and over again, poor cunt gushing with each prod at your cervix, only able to nod weakly.

“You could've just asked. Would never deny my sweet princess.” he whispers again, but his voice wavers, his own restraint unraveling. His hands slide up your back, fisting in your hair as he pulls you upright, forcing your spine to arch as he fucks into you deeper.

"Xavvvv'! Fuck!"

His lips graze your throat, his breath ragged. “Say my name again.”

You do—gasping, moaning, begging for him to — you don't even know what for at this point.

Xavier groans, his pace faltering for a split second before he regains control, thrusting harder, pushing you closer to that edge.

“Gonna cum, huh?” His fingers slide between your legs, finding your most sensitive button and circling just right. “C'mon.”

The order snaps something inside you, and you shatter around him, a broken sob tearing from your throat as pleasure crashes over you in violent waves. Your whole body shakes, muscles tensing as he fucks you through it.

Xavier curses, his grip bruising as he thrusts once, twice more, then he himself falls apart.

A deep, shuddering groan spills from his lips as he buries himself to the hilt emptying his heavy load into you, his body trembling against yours. You feel the heat of him spilling deep inside you, his breath ragged against your ear.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The storm still rages outside, but in here, it’s just your gasps, his heartbeat hammering against your back, no worries whatsoever.

Finally, he pulls away just enough to press a slow, almost lazy kiss to your shoulder. His voice is lower now, rough with spent desire.

Then, he lets out a rough chuckle, his grip on you finally loosening. “That’s one way to pass the time.” he mutters, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

Your groan echoing in response, smacking the arm wraped around your body weakly. “Shut up.”

Xavier just smirks, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him.

“No promises.”

ZAYNE ꩜ Locked In!

The soft click of the door echoes through the dimly lit office.

Zayne exhales, rubbing his temple, his eyes glinting under the sterile glow of the desk lamp. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You go to jiggle the handle, confirming what you both already know. “The janitor must’ve locked up without noticing us.”

Zayne doesn’t reply immediately, just watches you with that unnerving, unreadable gaze—the one that makes your pulse quicken for reasons that have nothing to do with being locked in.

He leans back against his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression smooth, controlled. But you don’t miss the flicker of something darker beneath the surface.

Annoyance? Amusement?

Neither.

Something else entirely.

“Well,” he finally says, his voice rich with amusement, “looks like we’re stuck here for a while.”

You sigh, rolling your shoulders. “Could be worse, I guess.”

A smirk tugs at his lips that you fail to notice. Dangerous.

He tilts his head, studying you like a patient on his table. Slow. Intrigued. Almost predatory.

“Why don’t we kill some time, then?”

The air shifts—subtle, but still sufforcating.

Before you can respond, he’s behind you, his movements so swift, so effortless, you barely register them before his hands are on your waist, firm and unyielding.

His fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns against your stomach before sliding upward, guiding you to his desk only to shove the papers on there to the side, brushing over your ribs, teasing the edge of your collarbone.

Then his lips find your ear, his breath a ghost of heat against your skin.

“There's not much to do anyway,” he growls, voice like silk laced with steel. His grip tightens as he presses his straining cock against you, the warmth of his body sinking into yours. “Might aswell use the time before the janitor comes back.”

“Zayne, we’re in your office,” you manage, breath shuddering, but the protest is weak, meaningless.

A quiet chuckle vibrates against your neck before he continues to plaster your collar with teasing kisses. “And?”

Then he’s turning you, guiding you back until your hips hit the edge of his desk. His golden eyes bore into yours—intense, unwavering—as he nudges your legs apart, stepping between them like he belongs there.

“You always talk about spicing things up,” he murmurs, his fingers ghosting over your waistband, toying with the fabric in slow, torturous strokes. “And we've never tried having fun in here.” His jaw tightens. “There's no hurt in trying.”

A shiver rolls through you as he commands you to turn around, your palms bracing against the cool surface of his desk. The heat of his presence lingers behind you, his breath featherlight against the back of your neck.

His hands drag down your back, low, teasing, before gripping your waistband and yanking your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. The cool air hits you as you cage your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes sending him a teasing glare.

Zayne exhales, his hands kneading the soft flesh of your ass before sliding between your thighs.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with restraint.

A sharp gasp escapes as his fingers glide through your slick folds, parting them, exploring. He groans, the sound low and possessive.

“Already so soaked,” he muses, voice dark with satisfaction. “You like this, don't you? A naughty wife I see.”

Your hips jerk as he presses two firm fingers against your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles.

“Zayne, please—”

He hums approvingly, his movements controlled—like he’s testing you, studying the way your body reacts under his touch. His fingers dip lower, teasing your entrance, but never quite dipping in.

“So desperate,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your spine.

Suddenly, he withdraws. The loss is unbearable, a whimper slipping from your lips before you can stop it.

Quit the teasing, he can't take it anymore.

Your hips wiggle in excitement as his heft length slaps against the valley of your ass, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your hole, thick and teasing, dragging through your wetness with maddening patience.

“C'monnn,” you whine, pushing back against him, tip just barely sliding insde you, and you greedily catch! his angry tip, desperatly trying to suck him int further.

With one sharp exhale he thrusts in, sinking into you in one long, unyielding stroke, knocking the air out of your lungs almost imediently.

A choked cry escapes yyou as he stretches you wide, fills you to the brim, the sheer size of him forcing every nerve in your body to light up, as a prolonged moan slips from your lips, head slamming against the desk at the overwhelming feeling.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hands tightening on your hips like he’s barely holding himself together. “Always so tight and ready for me.”

He stills for a moment, buried deep, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths against your back to compose himself. Then, just as you begin to adjust to his massive girth, just as the pleasure starts to settle—

He moves.

The first thrust is deep, calculated. The second is sharper, quicker, even. By the third, he’s pounding into you, loosing himself at your contracting greedy walls, each deep stroke sliding your body further onto the cold desk, whole furniture shaking and you could even think the legs of the chair might collapse.

The office is filled with the filthy sounds of skin meeting skin, the wetness between your thighs only adding to the obscene rhythm of his movements.

“Not so loudddd, darlin'” he teases, voice rough and hungry. “Wouldn't want anyone to hear, hm?”

His fingers slide between your legs, pressing against your clit yet in perfect rhythm with his thrusts, your mouth agape as drool dripps down onto some godforsaken document both of you could give less of a fjuck about right now.

“Zayne—oh. my. fuck!” Words coming out in punctured huffs, your vision blurs, whole body tightening as each push of his hip would surely send you flying if you didn't hold on.

He groans breathlessly, pace unwavering. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his free hand sliding up to fist in your hair, tugging just enough to make you arch. “Take it, sweetheart.”

Pleasure coiling tighter, hotter, until you’re right at the edge—

"Be a good wife and cum all over your husbands cock, pretty please."

With that you break, body convulsing as your orgasm rips through you with force, a strangled cry leaves your lips, hole clenching him tight, leaving your legs shaking, giving out on you.

Zayne curses, his movements stuttering, struggling against the unyielding grip of your spasming cunt.

With a final, deep thrust, he plundges his entire cock inside you, a low, guttural groan tearing from his throat as his own release crashes over him. Heaty cum fills you, his grip on your hips tightening as he rutts against your ass, his breath ragged, uneven.

The haze of pleasure still clings to you, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you slump limplessly against the desk. Zayne’s hands remain on your hips, his grip possessive, his chest rising and falling behind you as he catches his breath.

Then,

The unmistakable sound of keys jingling.

“Hello?” A rough voice cuts through the heavy air and your heart stops. “Thought I heard somethin’ in here—”

Zayne doesn’t move. He stays buried inside you, still hard, still throbbing. He doesn’t even flinch. If anything, you feel his smirk against your skin before he finally pulls out, his fingers dipping between your thighs to push his release back deep inside you.

“Messy,” he murmurs, so low only you can hear, “This is all thanks to her", his eyes glued to your talkative hole, amusement evident on his face.

You glare at him, but before you can open your mouth, the janitor sighs from behind the door.

“Damn pipes,” the old man mutters. “Always makin’ weird noises.”

The jingle of keys fades, footsteps retreating.

Thankfully, the door never opens.

Then, silence.

“You are noisy,” he muses, fixing his tie, completely unbothered.

You whirl on him, mortified, hurriedly yanking your pants back into place. “And you’re impossible!”

He grins, utterly shameless, dragging you back into his arms. His fingers are already creeping under your waistband again.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he purrs, golden eyes gleaming.

“We’re not done yet.”

RAFAYEL ꩜ (7 Minutes) In Heaven!

Rafayel has been avoiding Thomas all day.

You know it, Thomas knows it, and judging by how Rafayel is nowhere to be found, he knows you are onto him.

“If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him,” Thomas sighs, rubbing his temple, frustrated. “It’s important.”

You nod, catching an inkling of Rafayel’s intention. “Of course, I’ll let him know.”

The moment Thomas walks away toward the kitchen in search of the artist in god-knows-where, you turn on your heel, heading straight for Rafayel’s room. If he isn’t anywhere else, you have a good guess where he is hiding.

You push open the door, stepping inside. Silence meets you, but the air feels charged, like someone was here just moments before.

Then, your gaze drifts to the walk-in closet.

Bingo.

Suspicious, you make your way over and pull the door open only to find Rafayel, lounging against the shelves like he belongs there, arms crossed over his chest, pout streching his features.

“I knew it,” you accuse, raising an eyebrow. “Hiding now, are we?”

He doesn’t even look the slightest bit guilty. Instead, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “I wouldn’t call it hiding. More like, avoiding unnecessary stress.”

You huff. “Thomas is looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” he says smoothly, then reaches forward and before you can react, he tugs you inside and shuts the door behind you.

The sound of the lock clicking into place sends a shiver down your spine.

“Rafayel,” you warn, pressing a hand against his chest. “We can’t just—” He leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “We can.”

The space is small, the air thick with his scent—clean, expensive, so damn intoxicating. His presence surrounds you, and it is impossible to focus on anything but him. Well, the rock-hard buldge of his might be a competition.

“You came looking for me,” he whispers against your lips, fingers tracing down your spine. “So stay.”

You swallow hard. “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” His hands slide lower, resting on your hips. “Or are you putting on the tought girl act right now?”

Your breath hitches as he presses you against the shelves, his body warm and firm against yours.

“Rafayel—”

“Hmmm?” His voice is a purr, full of dark amusement.

“You’re impossible.”

He chuckles, fingers sneaking to your pants, tugging at the fabric teasingly. “And you love it.”

You don’t get a chance to argue, not when he captures your lips in a heated kiss, not when he pushes you so impossibly close and surely not when he's rutting his needy cock against your clothed core.

It is slow at first, like he has all the time in the world to unravel you. His lips move against yours expertly, coaxing you open, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes your knees weak.

His hands are everywhere, roaming up your back, sliding beneath your shirt, exploring every inch of exposed skin.

Heat pools in your stomach at his words. The thought of being caught, of Thomas standing just outside, completely unaware of what is happening behind the locked door, it only makes you want him more.

He turns you around, pressing your front against the shelves. His hands roam over your curves, his breath hot against your neck.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you all day,” he murmurs, his fingers teasing between your thighs. You gasp, your body arching into his touch.

“Already so wet,” he muses, his voice thick with satisfaction. “All for me.”

You barely have time to catch your breath before he replaces his fingers with the head of his bulky cock head, teasingly rubbing it against your slick, glisterning folds.

“Tell me you want this,” his voice is low, dark and lustful.

“P-please—”

That is all he needs.

With one percise thrust, he buries himself inside you, a choked moan escapes your lips as he stretches you to your limits, filling you completely. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place as he sets a rythmic pace.

“So tight,” he groans, his breath ragged. “You feel incredible.”

You clench around him, and he curses under his breath.

His pace quickens, each thrust hitting deeper, harder. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the closet, along with the quiet, breathy moans you can’t hold back.

“Nghhh— good, sooo good!”

“Shh,” he murmurs, though the smirk in his voice is undeniable. “You don’t want Thomas knocking on the door, do you?”

The thought sends a fresh wave of heat through you.

Just as you are about to answer, you hear the faint sound of footsteps outside—too close. Thomas’s voice echoes down the hallway, rattling the doorknob faintly. “Rafayel?”

Rafayel’s hands tighten on your hips, his movements slowing as if he can feel the tension in your body. The door handle turns again, then stops. The footsteps retreat, but they are still too close.

He smirks, his breath hot against your neck. His thrusts deepen, pressing you harder against the shelves, the sound of his body against yours echoing in the small space, shelf shaking with it's contents. He moves with deliberate slowness now, each thrust calculated, as if daring you to make a sound.

“Don’t even think about it,” he whispers, his voice laced with dark amusement. “Not a word.”

His fingers find your clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. Every movement feels heightened, the danger of being caught making every sensation sharper, more intense.

You' re already close— so damn close, your breath catching with each thrust of his, tip bullying the entrance of your womb meanly.

With one last commanding push, he groans, burying himsel in so deep, his hot sticky cum shoots right into your womb, the fullness of it all making your jump over the edge, cumming so hard you can barely breathe.

Then, the door rattles— again.

You and him simuntaniously freeze, staring at the door, listening to the muffled sound of Thomas’s voice growing frustrated on the other side.

“Okay, you two, this is getting ridiculous. I know you’re in there! I don’t care what’s going on, just come out already!”

Rafayel’s smirk deepens, though you can feel his body tense slightly as the sound of Thomas’s exasperation fills the air.

You chuckle breathlessly but hushed, still trembling, mind racing with the absurdity of the situation. “Wanna go out of hiding?”

Rafayel chuckles low in your ear, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “He’ll live.”

The sound of Thomas sighing and muttering something unintelligible echoes through the door as he walks away, still clearly annoyed.

You exhale a shaky breath, your body still humming with tension. Rafayel doesn’t say anything more, he doesn’t need to. You both know what this is, and somehow, the chaos of almost getting caught only makes it more thrilling.

“I think we should really get out of here before he comes back,” you say with a shaky laugh, though you aren’t quite ready to leave yet.

Rafayel pulls you closer, brushing his lips against your ear once more. “Noooo,” he complains with a whiny voice, thick with annoyance.

“Just one more, pleaseee?”

SYLUS ꩜ Bound to You!

“This is ridiculous,” you huff, holding up your wrist to emphasize the glowing cuff binding you to your husband.

Sylus chuckles, utterly unbothered as he examines the energy linkage with a lazy smirk. “You say that, but I think fate just enjoys tying us together.”

You shoot him a glare, but it lacks any real heat. This isn’t the first time the protocore’s strange energy has done something like this, though back then, you weren’t married. Now, the situation feels even more absurd.

“We’re literally handcuffed together,” you deadpan.

He tilts his head, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Well, I did vow to stay by your side, didn’t I?”

You groan, tugging at the glowing chain connecting your wrists. It doesn’t budge. “I just wanna go to bed.”

Sylus hums, stepping closer—so close you can feel the warmth of his body. “Oh we'll go to bed, alright.”

His voice dips, rich and smooth, the way it always does when he’s teasing you, something you’ve grown used to over the years.

You narrow your eyes. “Sy'.”

He grins, giving the chain a light tug so that you stumble forward, right into his chest. His free hand finds your waist, steadying you as he leans down, his breath warm against your ear.

“Or,” he murmurs, “we could make the best of it.”

Your pulse skips.

His fingers brush your hip, and even through the thin fabric of your nightwear, his touch sends warmth curling low in your stomach.

“This again?” you mutter, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Oh, come now.” He lifts your bound wrists, kissing your knuckles before meeting your gaze. His ruby orbs gleam with something dark. “Don’t tell me you don’t love this just a little.”

You swallow, unable to deny because he's right. He always was.

He strokes slow, soothing patterns against your bare thigh, watching you through half-lidded, satisfied eyes. “We’re married now,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be a shame not to enjoy it?”

You exhale shakily as he guides you toward the bed, his movements slow, as if savoring every second.

The moment your back hits the mattress, Sylus is above you, his free hand splayed against your side, fingers flexing like he’s resisting the urge to grab you harder.

His gaze softens as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. “My darling wife,” he purls, voice thick with affection. “Would love to be cuffed with you forever.”

He kisses you, moving like he has all the time in the world, deepening the kiss only when you sigh against him, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your toes curl, head spinning.

The chain between you clinks softly as he adjusts, pressing closer, his thigh slotting between yours.

His touch is everywhere—skimming your waist, teasing over your ribs, sliding beneath your shirt with aching slowness.

He pulls back slightly, golden eyes searching yours. “Breathtaking,” he breathes, voice reverent. “And you’re all mine.”

Heat pools in your stomach as he kisses down your throat, his teeth grazing sensitive skin, free hand slipping beneath your waistband to tease his pads onto your swolled clit, you gasp, arching into his touch.

Sylus groans, his forehead dropping against yours. “Ohh, she's an eager one,” he breathes, his fingers dipping between your folds, sliding along them. “All ready for me.”

The slow, careful movements turn teasing, his fingers circling your clit, stroking you with just enough pressure to drive you mad.

Suddenly, one finger teases your neglected entrance, sloooowly entering, searching it's way through your cavity.

You whimper, bound wrist jerking slightly as you try to grasp onto something—anything—but all you can do is grip his hand, fingers tangling with his.

“Perfect,” he whispers, firm, kissing along your jaw. “Every part of you.”

A second finger follows suit, curling upward, bumping against you gushy walls, loud sounds clouding his mind in lust.

You shudder, body tightening under his praise. “P-please, Sy'—”

He hushes you with another kiss, fingers slipping inside you with ease, fingers curling right into the spot he memorized throuout the years, smirking against your lips at your broken shriek.

And fuck, he’s grinding into you like he’s losing his mind, hips bucking wildly, precum smearing across his briefs, desperate for even a sliver of relief.

He’s groaning against your lips like he might fall apart first, cock so achingly hard it twitches helplessly with every snap of his hips, every slick flick of his wrist.

You can feel it, how far gone he’s let himself get, and it pushes you closer and closer, sharp heat building unbearably low in your belly.

Your grip tightens in his hair again, tugging harder, forcing his mouth impossibly closer to your mouth as you gasp into him, voice breaking. “Fuck, Sy', don’t stop, don’t—”

He answers only with a deep, wrecked moan, fingers curling further, moving faster, scraping against your walls with the single-minded intent to see you coming undone.

The lewd slap of his wrist against your core echoing alongside the wet, obscene sounds of the breathless kiss you cage him in, your hips bucking up further into his touch, so impossibly close to release.

Thighs starting to shake uncontrollably, every nerve on fire, your body arching, bowstring-tight as he drives you over the edge without mercy. The combination of his filthy mouth, the desperate, hungry sounds spilling from his mouth snaps something inside you.

His words push you over, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your walls clench around his fingers, back arching into his chest as a broken moan slips from your lips.

Only when you're spent body slumps against the sheets, chest heaving, does he finally pull away, dark pupils blown wide.

Sylus groans, his expression caught between awe and pure hunger.

Before you can fully come down, he’s freeing himself from his boxers, guiding his free hand around his cock, lining himself up with you.

“Goooood job,” he murmurs, voice soft yet sharp. “Now lets repeat this mess on my cock, yes?”

You barely have time to respond before he presses forward, sinking into you with a deep, slow thrust, a gasp tears from your lips as he stretches you in the most perfect way, like you're made for him. Because you are.

Sylus lets out a shaky breath, his head dropping against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he groans. “You feel unreal, sweetie.”

He stays still for a moment, savoring the way your body wraps around him. Then, he pulls back and thrusts in again, setting a slow, sensual rhythm.

The chain between your wrists clinks softly with every movement, a constant reminder of how intimately you’re connected.

Sylus takes his time, each thrust measured, his hands roaming your body, his lips pressing lingering kisses against your skin.

“My wife,” he murmurs, his voice thick with devotion. “You’re everything to me.”

The way he moves, the way he worships you with every touch, every word—it sends you spiraling closer to the edge again.

Sylus feels it, his rhythm faltering slightly. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he rasps, his free hand slipping between your bodies to rub your clit.

Your breath catches, pleasure surging through you like fire. “Mhmm! Gonna cum again, Sy'!—”

“That’s it,” he whispers, his pace quickening. “Cum with me.”

The pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, then you shatter. Your orgasm tears through you, body tightening, back arching, pleasure consuming every nerve.

Sylus groans, his own release following as he thrusts into you one final time, his body trembling as he spills his hot spurts of cum inside you.

Suddenly, the glow around your wrists flickers.

With a soft shimmer, the energy linkage disappears entirely, the cuffs vanishing as if they were never there to begin with.

Sylus lets out a breathless laugh, collapsing beside you. “Huh. Looks like we found the key.” You groan, smacking his chest weakly. “You would say that.”

He grins, gathering you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Hope you aren't planning on sleeping now, sweetheart," he muses, mischief dancing in his crimson gaze. His fingers trail down, dipping between your thighs to catch his leaking cum, only to pluck it in again.

"Because I wouldn’t count on getting any rest tonight."

CALEB ꩜ Going... Down?!

The elevator comes to an abrupt stop, the lights flickering once before stabilizing into a dim glow.

Well, how fucking great.

You groan, pressing the emergency button, but nothing happens. “Of course,” you mutter, crossing your arms.

Caleb leans back against the wall, completely unbothered, arms folded over his broad chest, an easy smirk playing on his lips. “Well, looks like we’re stuck.”

You glance at him. “No shit.”

He chuckles, tilting his head at you, hat slightly shifting. “No need to sound so grumpy, sweets. Think of it as quality time, hm?”

You huff, but your irritation barely lasts under his lazy, amused gaze.

A few moments pass in silence before Caleb shifts, stepping closer. His presence alone makes the air feel heavier, warmer.

Your eyes meet his, and the way he looks at you sends heat straight to your core.

His voice drops to a low murmur. “You’re tense.”

You swallow as he reaches out, his fingers brushing over your wrist before trailing down, ghosting over your hip.

“Caleb—”

“Mm?” His smirk widens, but his touch stays gentle, coaxing, teasing. “I'm just tryin' ta help.”

Your breath hitches as his hand slides lower, fingers toying with your uniform pants.

“Here?” you whisper, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Why not?” His fingers slip past the fabric, brushing over your panties. “No one’s comin' anytime soon.”

The way he says it so casually, careless, makes your stomach tighten, your legs pressing together involuntarily.

Caleb snickers, his fingers pressing against your clit through the thin fabric, applying just enough pressure to make your breath stutter. “You like the risk, don’t you?”

You bite your lip, body already betraying you before your mouth can even try to.

He hums, clearly pleased, before slipping his hand beneath your underwear, his fingers finding your wetness.

A sharp inhale leaves you as he traces slow circles over your clit, his other hand bracing against the wall beside your head.

“She’s always so damn wet,” he mutters, voice thick with satisfaction.

Your head falls back against the cool metal as he slides a finger inside you, the stretch teasing, not nearly enough.

“M-more,” you whisper.

Caleb groans, mouth brushing over your jaw. “That’s my girl.”

He adds another finger, curling them just right, his pace slow and deliberate. The quiet slick of your arousal fills the small space, making your cheeks burn. His lips ghost over your ear. “Yer' gonna have ta' be quiet, sweets.”

Your breath hitches as he presses his thumb to your clit, his movements intensifying. Your free hand clutches at his unrelenting wrist, body trembling. “Nghh— r-right there! Ouuuhh!”

“Shhhhh,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Don’t want anyone knowing how good I’m making you feel, do you?”

His pace doesn’t falter, his fingers fucking you with precision, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “Cum for me.”

That’s all it takes.

Your orgasm crashes through you, your walls clenching around his fingers, your body tensing as waves of pleasure roll over you.

Caleb groans, watching you come undone, his fingers soaked in your spurting release, and ohhh— he’s nowhere near done yet.

He takes off his commanding hat, placing it onto your head, then sinks to his knees in an instant, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, right above the fabric of your pants. “Will ya’ let me get a taste, colonel?”

You gasp as he hooks his fingers into your waistband and drags your uniform pants down, exposing your trembling legs.

“M-mhmm—”

He shoots you a wicked grin before pressing his mouth against your soaked panties, the heat of his tongue searing even through the fabric. He inhales deeply, humming in approval. “Ya smell so fuckin’ sweet.”

Your fingers tangle into his dark strands, your other hand clawing at something, anything, as he pulls the damp material aside and licks a slow, teasing stripe over your swollen clit.

Your knees buckle, but he catches you, one strong arm locking around your waist, keeping you upright as he works his tongue over you—circling, flicking, sucking—with a patience that makes your head spin.

“C-Caleb—!”

“Yeahhh, I know,” he growls, dragging his tongue lower, teasing your entrance before dipping inside, his nose brushing against your clit.

The combination of his fingers and his mouth is overwhelming. Heat pools in your core again, another orgasm creeping up on you too soon.

He feels it, senses it, and doubles down—sucking harder, his tongue pressing in deep. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you wide open for him as he feasts.

Your breath hitches, thighs quivering around his head, his hat sliding slightly over your eyes as you tilt your head down, and then—

White-hot pleasure bursts through you, your hands flying to his hair, moans muffled as you bite down on your lip to keep from screaming his name.

Caleb groans against you, lapping up every bit of your sweet juices, his own arousal pressing painfully against his pants.

Just as your body sags against the cool metal wall, the elevator lets out a soft ding.

Your eyes snap open just as the doors begin to slide apart. Panic shoots through you as you scramble to pull up your pants, your legs still shaking.

This absolute bastard just wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirk lazy and completely unrepentant.

A fleet officer peers in, eyebrows raised.

“Everything alright in here?”

Caleb shoots you a smirk, taking his hat from you before ruffling your hair teasingly, turning back to the officer. “Oh, we’re doing fine. Time flew by. Am I right, pips'?”

Your breath is still uneven, your mind still clouded from your second orgasm. You struggle to find a normal response, forcing out a weak, “Y-yeah. Time flew.”

The officer gives you an odd look but ultimately shrugs. “Alright then.”

As you step out, still flustered, Caleb leans in, his breath red and heated against your ear.

“Let’s do this again once we’re home,” he whispers, his voice dripping with promise,

“But this time, you squirt on my dick.”

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