fly to you like birds do
Sylus/Reader | 2642 words | AO3
Sylus can't sleep
A/N: I have no idea what happened. It was supposed to be just smut, but I guess we’re sandwiching the smut between some fluff instead. ¯_(ツ)_/¯ MDNI
It was well past two in the morning when Sylus stepped out of the shower, water droplets still clinging to his hair. He dried himself and slipped on just a pair of simple burgundy pajamas bottom. There was a heat wave outside, and though the air conditioner was running inside his home, Sylus still felt restless. He returned to his room, still tensed, knowing sleep was not going to be in his favor tonight.
He stopped in his track when he heard his phone ringing. How peculiar, he thought, considering the time. Stepping closer to his bed, he saw your picture and name flashed up on the screen. Smiling, he answered, turning on the speaker:
“Is this my pretty little hunter calling me?”
There was a brief moment of awkward silence before he heard your voice: “I dialed by mistake.”
“I’m sure you did,” he responded cordially, humoring you in spite of seeing through the thinly-veiled fib. He placed the phone on the nightstand and climbed into bed under satin cover. The sound of your voice instantly calmed him, and he continued, “It’s two in the morning. Why are you still up?”
Silence followed his question again. Sylus frowned. “Hello?”
“I’m hanging up,” you declared, tone a pitch higher than intended, clearly embarrassed by this whole situation.
“Wait,” Sylus interrupted before you could end the call. He continued, “Don’t. Chat with me.”
“It’s two in the morning,” you echoed his earlier words back to him, “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“I can’t sleep,” he admitted, and then with a sly grin, he continued, “Maybe you could help me.”
There were slight shuffling noises on your end before you answered, confused, “How?”
“We can chat until we’re tired,” he said, turning to his side to face the phone. “We can start with why you called me in the first place, and don’t bother trying to lie to me again.”
You sighed, knowing you were never good at hiding things, especially from him. You admitted softly, “I can’t sleep either.”
“And your first thought was to call me? I’m touched.” He laughed when he heard your flustered voice on the other end. “Alright, alright, calm down, I was only teasing.”
“I don’t appreciate it,” you grumbled.
“My apologies then. Won’t you forgive me, Miss Hunter?”
“I think not.”
He hummed softly in amusement at your defiance. “Perhaps you would feel better if you punish me then.”
“Eh?”
“I have clearly wronged you,” he said, voice tinged with humor, “it is only right that I should be punished for my misdeed.”
Sylus could hear you talking quietly to yourself, clearly contemplating his words. He laughed softly to himself as he stared at his phone, picturing you in your apartment flabbergasted by the direction of this phone call. “Alright, time’s up,” he spoke up to your shocked gasp, “I gave you plenty of time to think, so unless…”
“Meow for me.”
“Pardon?”
“Meow for me and I’ll forgive you.”
Sylus chuckled, confused. “Are you serious?” he shook his head and questioned you again, “You are asking the leader of Onychinus to…meow?”
“Uh huh,” you answered, this time pleased with yourself for reducing this powerful man to a state of utter bewilderment. “Please?”
He sighed. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he paused, and then he cleared his throat, “Meow.”
There was a pause. Sylus couldn’t hear anything other than the air conditioner running in his home, and just as he was about to check in on you, you spoke up with a squeal:
“You purred.”
“Is that not what cats do?”
“Well, yes. But. You purred.”
“We’ve established that already,” he said evenly, unsure of why this was making you so delighted. “Have I been forgiven?”
He smiled when he heard your giggle on the other end: “Yes, I’ve forgiven you.”
Sylus lay back down in bed, his eyes darting to the clock on his nightstand. He sighed. “It’s 2:35. Are you still restless?”
“Mm, yes,” you responded. “Are you tired? Do you want to go to sleep now?”
“I can’t sleep,” he reminded you again. “Then let’s continue. How was your day?”
Sylus lay there, listening to you describe your day, unbothered when you took too many tangents to get to a very anticlimactic ending of a very mundane story. He occasionally chimed in, but for the most part, he was more interested in just hearing your voice, listening to the subtle changes in tone and picturing your expression as you retold your day. He barely noticed you were done speaking until you called out to him, asking him about his own day.
“My day? Normal,” he answered vaguely.
“That’s cryptic.”
“Indeed,” he agreed, and you knew that was all you were going to get out of him.
“Sylus?”
“What is it?”
“What are you wearing?”
Sylus once again paused, surprised by the question that came out of left field. Once he composed himself, he smirked and answered, “Pajamas bottom. Should I also describe the color and material as well?”
“Please do.”
Sylus laughed and shook his head. “Burgundy and cotton.”
“Ah.”
Sylus raised a brow. “Not that I am complaining about this change in topic, but care to explain yourself, sweetheart?”
“I was curious,” you admitted in half-truth, “If I can picture what you are wearing, it would be like you are next to me right now.”
“How cute,” he cooed, unaware that he was making you blush with his voice, “Then may I ask what you are wearing, my dear?”
“An oversized shirt.”
“How unsexy,” he answered, disappointed.
“It’s yours.”
Oh. Well, that certainly changed everything, Sylus decided, intrigued now.
“My shirt?” The mental image of you in his shirt was definitely having an effect he didn’t realize it could. All wrapped up in his shirt, much too big for you, the sleeves too long, the length going down to your thighs—he was definitely appreciating the picture being painted in his mind. Sylus stifled back a groan, and continued in as even a voice as he could, “And how did you manage to obtain one of my shirts without my knowledge?”
“I took it from your place,” you confessed, “It was the one that I had accidentally spilled wine on, so I felt bad and tried to wash it out for you.”
“I appreciate the gesture, though I do have other shirts and it can easily be replaced.” He sensed your immediate quietness as a sign of embarrassment. He knew you did this as a sign of apology, and he quickly surmised his dismissive tone must have hurt your feelings, so he changed his phrasing: “Why haven’t you returned it to me then?”
“I haven’t had an opportunity,” you answered, tone dropping, a hint of sadness creeping through, “We haven’t seen each other lately.”
Ah. Sylus was catching on to the reason for this sudden late-night call. “And why are you wearing it now?”
Silence again.
“Sweetheart?”
That one word seemed to have broken a dam, and Sylus was surprised by the sudden quiet admission: “It feels like you.”
“You missed me,” he stated, and when he didn’t hear you respond, he wondered if his tone might have hurt you in some way again. He continued with a sigh, “I miss you, too.”
“Sylus…”
“I miss seeing you,” he added, knowing he was sounding a little more vulnerable than normal. “The sound of your voice…your smiles…the way…”
He paused, realizing the reason for his own restlessness. It wasn’t because of the heat wave happening throughout the city. Rather, it was the lack of a different kind of heat that was making him agitated.
“Sylus?”
“The way you feel in my arms,” he finished.
You didn’t respond, and Sylus laughed. “You’re blushing, aren’t you?”
“N-No!”
“Liar.”
He could hear you huffing in annoyance. Just as he was about to continue in his teasing, you hit him with another piece of information about your sleepwear:
“I’m not wearing anything underneath.”
“I-I see…” He paused, contemplating, before he questioned you, “Nothing? No—”
“No shorts. No panties.”
Well, that picture had unquestionably gotten even more interesting for Sylus. He held back another groan, as he pictured now just your bare body, caressed by nothing but just his shirt.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” you teased him, feeling triumphant for finally having the upper-hand in this phone conversation.
“Such arrogance,” he mumbled low, smirking, “Maybe you should take responsibility for making me so hard then.”
There was a surprised squeak.
He laughed low. “Come now, it’s only fair.”
“I-I don’t know…”
“Don’t know?”
“I…I don’t know how…I mean we’re just talking…”
Sylus leaned back against his pillows and laughed. “It’s because we’re talking that I am feeling this way now,” he answered low, his hands already tugging his bottoms down to discard to the side. He groaned softly at the sight of his erect penis. He continued, “Aren’t you feeling something from our conversation?”
“Y-yeah…” you admitted, “I…I think I am…”
He hummed softly, closing his eyes, the image of you in his shirt was once again before him.
“Need my pretty little cock-warmer,” he murmured, his hand wrapped around his hard member, a clear soft hiss escaped his lips. He lazily stroked himself as he continued to speak to you on the phone, his tone carrying shades of sensualness, “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
You flustered. “I-I have been…”
“No,” he interrupted you firmly, “Talk to me.”
“I…”
“Touch yourself,” he commanded.
You trembled at the sound of his firm voice, the dominating tone made you hesitantly slipped your hand inside the shirt you were wearing, your hand finding your breast. You toyed with your nipple, whimpering as it became firm.
“Where are you touching yourself?”
“M-my breast…”
Sylus hummed again, eyes still closed, but now he was picturing his large hand on your breast, massaging it gently, pinching your nipple until they were firm as you moan softly underneath him. He wanted to take that nipple in his mouth and sucked on it as he massaged your other breast, wanted to feel you squirm against him, your hands running through his hair as he ravaged you and keep you held down by the heavy weight of his body on yours.
“Sweetheart…”
“Sylus…”
“Take off my shirt.”
You immediately obeyed him. “It’s…it’s off.”
“Good girl,” he purred. “Lay back in bed, picture me with you.”
His voice sounded like it was an octave lower, soft pants escaped his lips as he continued to leisurely stroke himself. “Need you spread out beneath me.”
You felt a heat building up inside you as you listened to him speak, that devilishly deep voice always stirring something sinful within you. With each erotic word spoken by him, you parted your legs slightly and your hand moved lower to touch yourself somewhere much more intimate.
“Want to feel just how wet you can get for me.”
You let out a whimper, picturing his sharp ruby red eyes staring you down, his own fingers touching you. You rubbed your clit, tossing your head to the side with a moan, wishing it was his hand instead touching you, needing his lips on you, the feel of him against you.
“Want to taste you, sweetheart, eat you out until you come.”
You gasped at the picture, your legs trembling as you started to touch yourself more urgently. It wasn’t enough. You needed something more, something bigger…thicker—Sylus.
“Ohh, Sylus…”
“F-fuck…” he groaned at the sound of your moan. “Sweetheart, a man could get intoxicated hearing such sweet moaning…”
“Sylus…”
“Speak to me…what do you want?”
“You…”
Sylus let out a low moan, his pace increasing. “Sweetheart,” he gasped, feeling his arousal getting stronger at the sound of your voice growing needier, “need my cock buried inside you. Need my sweet little cock-warmer in my bed under me.”
He continued to mumble, “You always take me so well, always feel so good having you wrapped around my cock.”
That did something to you. You started to gasp into the phone as you writhed in bed, fingers sliding into your slick entrance as you so badly wished it really was his cock pounding into you. You curled up in bed face buried into your pillow, as you chased after the climax that was starting to build up inside. You couldn’t help the whines that came out of your mouth, knowing he was hearing every single incoherent word and noise you were making alone in your room through the phone. “Sy-Sylus…more…tell me more…please…”
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he was panting, sounding like, he, too, was losing himself in the image he was painting, “Want to hear more of your sweet moans, ah, want to see your face all flushed, all teary-eyed, as I fuck you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Want to feel my cock inside you?”
“Oh, god, yes!” Your hips buck against your hand. You were close, the way he described everything with that deep, rich, and sultry voice was having you clench around your own fingers. You rubbed your sensitive clit, but the mental image that it was him touching you instead had you crying out louder than expected.
“Need you now, sweetheart,” he gasped, “Need you so fucking bad, need you to cum on my cock, need to fill you up with my seed—such a good girl, such a pretty girl you are all flushed up as you take all of me—cum, cum for me, sweetheart—”
Sylus let out a groan at the same time he heard you screamed through the phone, the sound of your climax had him spilling into his hand. He lay panting hard in bed, his eyes shut, reliving the moment he heard you scream. The knowledge that he was able to bring you to orgasm through a mere phone call was a source of pride, especially when the two of you were so far away.
Still, he ached, wanting to feel your skin against his. He wanted to pull you into his embrace and let you relax in his arms as you both bask in the afterglow together. He wanted to feel your head resting on his chest, your soft hair brushing against his cheek, his lips on yours.
He sighed.
Several minutes passed as the two of you tried to even your breathing again. Sylus was the first to speak up, his voice soft and gentler than normal, “It’s late. You should get some rest.”
“No,” you protested this time in spite of your exhaustion.
“No?” There was amusement in his voice upon hearing your objection. “Why not?”
You were grateful he couldn’t see your blush. At his gentle coaxing, you admitted softly, “I don’t want to hang up.”
“It’s late,” he reminded you again.
Hearing silence, Sylus could sense your disappointment and he softened. “Alright,” he conceded, “Do you want to keep talking? Normally this time.”
He heard an indignant yelp for the latter comment before it was followed by weak mumbling: “I don’t know what to talk about…”
“What do you want then? Tell me.”
After a few beats, you confessed softly, “I just want to hear your voice.”
Sylus was both surprised and pleased. “My voice?”
“Yeah…”
“Well, then,” he started, a hint of mischievousness laced his voice, “If that is what my dear little hunter wants, then who am I to deny her this sweet request? Shall I lull you to sleep with my voice then?”
Your felt butterflies fluttering in your belly as he spoke. You knew he was relishing in this moment, but as embarrassing as it was for you, you were happy that he was so compliant.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he said warmly, and you obediently followed his command, setting your phone close to you as you relaxed in bed. “And just listen to the sound of my voice…”
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If drabble requests are still open, but fluffy octobing merman content would be cute
I LOVE MER AUS SO MUCH!!! here's some octo-mer!binghe and his beleaguered favorite scientist!sy ehehe
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Shen Yuan finds himself in the lab at three in the morning on a Sunday, facing the helpless expressions of the lab assistants who were scheduled for that particular night shift.
“We’re so sorry, Shen-ge,” one of them says miserably. “We just - he won’t eat, and he starts screaming whenever we try to clean his enclosure, and then -”
“-And then he threw a rock at me!” Interrupts the other, with far less remorse. He’s nursing a particularly nasty bruise on his forehead.
Inwardly, Shen Yuan itches for his notebook. Demonstrations of good aim and understanding of which parts of human anatomy are vital, he thinks absently, and then shakes the thought away. He isn’t here for any studying; he’s just going to take care of the issue he was called in for and go home to go back to sleep.
“It’s fine,” he says, dismissing the lab assistants’ apologies. “I’ll go feed him now, and his tank can be cleaned on Monday.”
“But, the procedure -”
“- states that no one should be working overtime,” Shen Yuan interrupts, feeling only a little bit irritated.
The lab assistants shut up and let Shen Yuan past without further mention of tank-cleaning schedules.
Ahead, there’s a group of a couple other scientists and one more lab assistant crowding around the door to the lab. When they see Shen Yuan coming, they make way for him, and then immediately crowd back around the doorway to watch him.
Not one of them dares to step foot inside, though.
“Binghe, come out and apologize to everyone!” Shen Yuan calls over his shoulder, not bothering to look up at the tank as he washes his hands.
Silence.
Shen Yuan sighs, drying off his hands and moving over to the fish cooler.
“If you haven’t apologized by the time I finish preparing your - fuck, ass-o-clock in the morning breakfast - then I won’t come up to the tank to feed it to you,” Shen Yuan warns. “I’ll just toss it over the top, and then I’ll leave.”
There’s a small splash; the sound of a head breaching water.
“...Shen-ge…”
Finally, Shen Yuan looks up from his food prep to glance at the tank. Near the top of it, Luo Binghe is staring at him with bright ruby eyes, some of his massive tentacles rhythmically sticking and un-sticking to the glass of the tank, slowly pushing his body up closer to the top of the tank.
Shen Yuan gives him a stern glare. “Luo Binghe,” he says, meaning every bit of the threat in his voice, “if you push yourself up out of that tank and make me clean up the mess you make doing so, I will handle your food with gloves on for a week.”
“Shen-ge!” Luo Binghe cries, horrified. “I hate the rubber taste! And I only want to taste Shen-ge’s touch, no one else’s! Why should I apologize to anyone who offers me food with their touch all over it!”
“You just said you hate the taste of rubber from the gloves,” Shen Yuan points out. “They’re following my lead in preparing your meals bare-handed, you know.”
Luo Binghe visibly wavers. Shen Yuan finishes cutting up the fish he’d grabbed and dumps it in a bucket, then looks up at Luo Binghe and tilts his head in the direction of the door to the lab pointedly.
“...Sorry,” Luo Binghe mumbles.
“For what?” Shen Yuan prompts.
“For refusing the food they tried to give me, even though Shen-ge should be the one to give me all his courting gifts himself,” Luo Binghe says, very obviously sulking.
Shen Yuan sighs, feeling a bit hopeless.
“How many times do I have to tell you, ah - food isn’t a courting gift for humans!”
Luo Binghe frowns, glaring at Shen Yuan suspiciously. “But it is when Shen-ge gives it to me, right?”
Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. “I’m not accompanying you during your mating season,” he deadpans. “We’ve gone over this a hundred times. I’m human. You’re a sea creature. We’re incompatible even before you consider our sexes.”
Luo Binghe perks up. Shen Yuan immediately becomes wary.
“I’ve been working on that,” Luo Binghe says, looking especially pleased with himself. “Maybe Shen-ge would like to come up here and document the changes to my reproductive organs himself?”
Shen Yuan feels his face go through several colors that a face has no business being. It only gets worse when he manages a moment of self reflection and realizes he does want to take a look, if only because no such sex change has ever been documented on a mer creature before.
Mortified, Shen Yuan glances towards the door to the lab. Everyone is watching the exchange between Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe with rapt expressions. One of the scientists has their clipboard out and is taking notes. The other makes an eager little shooing motion at Shen Yuan, as if to say ‘yes, go look, quick! Luo Binghe won’t let any of us look, after all!’
Shen Yuan sighs heavily. This really… really was not what he was expecting when he applied for this job.
“Alright, alright, I’m coming up. Good job apologizing to everyone, I guess,” Shen Yuan says half heartedly, beginning to lug the bucket of fish up the rickety stairs leading to the top of Luo Binghe’s tank. “But I’m not examining your biology tonight. We’ll wait to do that until we can schedule a proper examination. With others present, because it will be professional and educational, not for mating.”
Luo Binghe sulks. “If Shen-ge prefers to be watched…”
Irritated, Shen Yuan slaps at the side of the tank as he continues his trek up the stairs, feeling a bit vindicated when Luo Binghe’s expression twists in annoyance at the feeling of the vibrations so close to him.
“No mating, no innuendos, and none of your tentacles getting wrapped up around me,” Shen Yuan warns as he finally makes his way to the top of the tank and has to immediately swat away one of Luo Binghe’s massive tentacles as it dips out of the water and starts to reach for him. “Your suction cups leave awful welts - last time, my brother asked me if I was being abused by a secret lover!”
“Why am I a secret?!” Luo Binghe cries, ignoring every other part of what Shen Yuan had said.
Shen Yuan grimaces, decides that this isn’t a fight worth having at three in the morning, and sets the bucket of fish down on the edge of the tank.
Luo Binghe looks at it, then back at Shen Yuan expectantly.
…Damn it!!
Against his better judgment, Shen Yuan sighs and picks up a piece of fish, extending it out towards Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe’s expression instantly turns pleased, his tentacles curling beneath him - and creeping up out of the water again - as he takes the fish directly into his mouth from Shen Yuan’s hands.
The weight of everyone’s stares from the lab doorway is especially heavy. Shen Yuan picks up a second piece.
“You’re making me into a gossip piece,” he complains quietly to Luo Binghe.
Luo Binghe predictably responds to this by nibbling at Shen Yuan’s fingers instead of taking the piece of fish gently. Shen Yuan cuffs him over the head in a direct violation of every lab rule against touching the specimens there is. Fuck the rule; it isn’t as if Luo Binghe doesn’t break it himself every single day!!
…As he thinks this, Shen Yuan feels one of Luo Binghe tentacles coil around his ankle. Fuck. There’s no way Shen Yuan is going to manage unsticking Luo Binghe for at least several hours.
Resigned, Shen Yuan settles down properly onto the observation deck at the top of the tank, only giving Luo Binghe a half hearted glare when the mer responds by eagerly wrapping several more of his tentacles around what parts of Shen Yuan they can reach. The weight of them is massive; Luo Binghe is no small creature.
Happily, Luo Binghe opens his mouth expectantly. Shen Yuan sighs, and picks up another piece of fish.
It’s going to be a long night.
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