Work Text:
The rhythmic beeping of the front entryway’s keypad was a perfect representation of the last beats of your heart before it flatlined from a gory death instigated by the twin menaces currently on a rampage in the heart of the base.
You’d barely set foot in the building two hours ago, ready with the excuse of talking to Sylus about a mission you were handed at the Association, when Luke and Kieran ambushed you with manic grins, dozens of streamers, and zero mercy. Insisting that you didn’t ruin the (eighteenth) consecutive surprise party they were throwing for Sylus.
Not wanting to break the news that surprise parties usually involved, well, a party of people, or to be caught in their questionable version of ‘tricking the place out for the boss,’ you’d volunteered to keep watch for Sylus and warn them when he arrived. Besides, today was the one day they’d gotten it right.
Since then, you’d been posted up at your designated lookout — one of the black leather wingbacks in the foyer. You'd started by scrolling through the Association’s mission files on your watch, which lasted all of twenty minutes before a text from Sylus popped up: “Running late, sweetie. Minor complication involving amateur explosives and humans’ lack of self-preservation skills.”
Knowing it could mean anything from a blown-up building to another assassination attempt — you were betting on the latter — you switched over to playing a new game on your phone and assured the twins he wouldn’t be due for at least another hour.
Only now the door was opening, and the crisp, blossom-sweetened air of the spring evening was sneaking its way around the imposing and early man who filled the doorway, wrapping itself around you like the noose Kieran would probably fashion out of the blood-red streamers he’d been holding before Luke strung you up for breaking your promise.
The way you leapt from your seat and took a few beats to stop gaping at Sylus’ grinning face probably did nothing to disguise your guilty expression. So when he closed the door and leaned against it expectantly, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, you let the silence stretch between you.
“Well, this is a… surprise,” he drawled out, his voice low and smooth.
Your mouth opened. Then closed. Then, regretfully, opened again, “No, nope. Not a surprise. Just, uh...“
“Something wrong?” Only the slight crease at the corner of his eye hinted at his amusement when he quipped, “Kitten got your tongue?”
“No!” you asserted with a huff, indignation shaking you out of your surprised stupor. “I was… walking.”
“Walking.” He raised an eyebrow. “Through the foyer?”
Shit.
“Yes. I mean- you were supposed to…” You wave a vague hand behind you, where the archway to the main hall looms. “I was walking to come get you.”
He nodded as if he accepted your nonsensical answer and stepped forward, gently tilting your chin up with the inside of his finger. “And where are you taking me, sweetie?”
You swallowed when the pad of his thumb gently swiped along the edge of your jaw, the teasing affection in his gaze capturing yours like a hook.
Your thoughts suddenly clanged around in your skull like loose screws. His fingers were warm. His breath was warmer. And your cheeks became hot.
“Guess,” you managed after you suck in a breath.
“Luke and Kieran,” he concluded, brows lifting slightly. “Hm. Well, at least they finally found the right distraction.”
Your sigh of his name was nestled somewhere between flustered and exasperated. Grasping to get your bearings back, you reluctantly pulled your face away and cleared your throat, “They… they just wanted me to make sure you weren’t, you know… late?”
“But I’m home early.”
“I noticed,” you muttered to yourself.
A mischievous glint flickered behind his lashes before he started backing up toward the hall, holding out his forearm like he was a gentleman escorting his partner for a dance rather than a man walking through his own home. “Let’s see what they need then, shall we?”
There was no way Luke and Kieran had finished whatever they were trying to do in that room. But, not trying to look more guilty than you already did, you hooked your arm around his and walked into the hallway, all the while racking your brain for more stalling measures.
The soles of your shoes were silent on the marble as you both walked. Moonlight spilled through the tall, reinforced windows, casting delicate, pale beams across the polished floor and climbing the walls in ribbons of silver.
It illuminated the hair on Sylus’ temples, snowy strands glimmering like threads of constellations, taking any ideas your mind might’ve tried to form straight into the sky.
He looked ethereal in that moment, too otherworldly to be walking there with you.
Which made it all the more disarming when he stopped in his tracks and turned to face you when you blurted out, “Could we, maybe, walk slower?”
He glanced over his shoulder at the door that led to the main room, the same door that stood between you and Sylus, the twins, and a ruined surprise. “You’re acting strange, kitten.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he said, the rasp of amusement unmistakable. “You’re acting suspicious.”
“Well then. I learn from the best.”
The smirk reappeared, and so did the inside of a pointer finger beneath your chin. “What’re you hiding from me?”
Your mouth went dry, your brain scrambling to come up with an excuse, when the door at the end of the hallway suddenly cracked open.
The unmistakable eyes of Luke went wide behind his mask when he saw the two of you stopped a few feet away, flitting his eyes between your awkward, half-stepped retreat and Sylus’ narrowed eyes before he barked out a sharp, “Kieran!”
You barely blinked before the door behind you opened and a pair of arms gently but firmly shoved you into a room- no, closet. Swearing sharply, Sylus lunged forward to steady you when the door behind him slammed shut and-
Click.
The pitch black room was filled with nothing but the heavy sounds of your breaths and absolutely stunned silence until Kieran’s voice broke it with a, “Promise you’ll thank us later, boss-man!”
"Sylus."
You hadn’t meant to say his name like that again, all soft and breathy. Fanning each letter across the veined skin of his throat.
You were just trying to soothe him, to soothe yourself, as you both came to terms with your new… bodily arrangement for the time being. (And trying desperately not to harbor any murderous intent toward two masked teenagers.)
But you knew it had slipped out anyway when you felt his body tense against yours and a harsh breath escaped from his nose.
Not that your position was doing either of you any favors.
Face to face. The thickness of his muscular thigh between yours, parting them around his trouser-clad leg to slot more comfortably into the tight space. Every breath shifting the delicate brushes of pressure between your chest and his black-silk dress shirt.
Your arms were pinned awkwardly behind you, trapped between the wall and the base of your spine. It wasn’t painful, but the weight of his body pressed against you gave you no room to move them. And while Sylus being an imposing figure wasn’t a new discovery, feeling the wide, broad, and powerful musculature against you was vastly different than admiring it from a few feet away.
You sucked in a shaky breath to hide the way your heart slammed against your ribs, like pounding fists trying to reach him.
“Don’t move.”
All the playfulness from his earlier tone had disappeared, leaving behind a gravelly warning as you started to shift.
The closet that you’d been unceremoniously shoved into was barely tall enough for Sylus so he was left to slightly curl his body around yours. His right forearm held him up against the wall behind you, pushing his weight into the door while his left arm had your waist in a tight grip, pressing your hip against the wall.
(Somewhere in the back of your mind, you weren’t sure whether to be insulted or grateful that he was practically contorting himself to put even a hairsbreadth of space between you.)
“Why?” There was a thread of concern in your voice. This was the Onychinus Base after all, it was highly unlikely something like linens were actually being stored in here.
Your eyes tried to shift back and forth to look around, but there was barely any room for you to move without brushing your nose against his cheek in this crawl space — closet was too generous a word, you’d decided.
“Don’t. Move.” He repeated, a strained kind of tightness in the words.
Now you were concerned about him. Sylus was the smoothest talker you’d ever met. You’d seen him schmooze his way through ego-infested arms deals, building explosions, and multiple shootouts. For him to be able to muster only a few monosyllabic words must’ve meant that—
It was like the twitch of a muscle, a minuscule movement that no one would ever notice if they weren’t in this exact type of predicament. But as your hips shifted the slightest inch, a sudden, hot, and unmistakable hardness from beneath Sylus’ trousers pressed into your lower stomach.
Oh. Oh. Your swirl of thoughts vanished as clarity hit you. As the heat of it made its way from your stomach to your cheeks.
Sylus was decidedly not afraid.
And suddenly… neither were you.
Suddenly, you wanted to unpin your hands from behind you and slide them into his hair.
Suddenly, you wanted to push your hips in the opposite direction Sylus was pressing yours.
Suddenly, you wanted to raise a leg and constrict the inside of your thigh around Sylus’ waist.
Suddenly, you needed to get out of here. You needed more room.
“Uh, can- can you use your Evol?” you stutter out. It might be too tight of a space for his body to dissipate but maybe he could use his mist to flip the lock on the outside?
A hesitation, followed by a resigned sigh. “I’ve been trying. It’s tapped out from my meeting earlier.”
“Meeting.” You huffed out a breath, stirring the strands of hair that had fallen across Sylus’ nose. “I knew someone was trying to assassinate you again.”
His eyes, which had been slowly tracing your features, locked onto yours. “You knew, hm?” His lips quirked. “And here I was thinking your fantasies about me had gotten less… bloodthirsty.”
You gave him as much of a sharp and unamused look as you could muster while pinned centimetres away from his body.
“Please. If anyone here is fantasizing about blood, it’s you, mister arms dealer,” you retorted, tilting your head to get your own hair out of your eyes. “What happened tonight, anyway?”
It was then that you had the strangest metaphysical experience of your life. Because reality kept progressing. Time kept moving forward. Sylus had started talking — you could tell by the way his chest rumbled against yours, by the way his rasped words started to soothe their way from his lips to your ears, like a massage designed to loosen your muscles — and yet…
And yet your consciousness couldn’t properly focus on any of that. Couldn’t remember or process any of the sentences he was saying.
Because for the next few moments, every sensation, every nerve ending — your very existence — disappeared, except for the part of your body where Sylus' hardness pressed.
Where the length and width and heat of it started to move lower and lower as he relaxed into his explanation. Where you desperately willed it to move lower still. And press harder. So that your body could memorize its shape from the outside. So that your body could recognize its shape once it was inside.
All the while, you did the best you could with the awareness you had. Humming faintly when there was a pause between sentences. Nodding slightly when the tone of a word lilted up in question like, “Kitten?”
Though it was only a matter of time before Sylus noticed and said—
“Kitten. Are you listening?”
“Yes,” you assured quickly. Probably too quickly.
Your consciousness was mercilessly yanked back into your body. Your cheeks were blistering with heat. The bones in your chest felt a little too big for your diaphragm.
Sylus had moved, too, you realized. The bicep holding his weight back had shifted closer to sort of cradle the side of your head. His head had lowered, his nose and mouth alternating between hovering by the skin beneath your ear and pressing into the space between your cheek and jaw.
“Hm, alright then. Glad we both agree,” he said dryly. “I’ll start my explosives manufacturing venture next week.”
You blinked once. Twice. Then again. Before you turned his smirk into a low growl when you pushed your hips away from the wall and into his.
You turned his growl into a startled grunt when you finally freed your hands from behind you, and thumped your fists against the only place they could reach — his lower back.
“I’m going to kill Luke and Kieran for doing this to me,” you muttered.
“To you? Isn’t it me we should pity here, sweetie? Trapped in a closet with you on my birthday.” His body shifted again as he released your hip and slipped his arm around your lower back. “There’s only one part of this situation that fits into the celebration I had in mind.”
Shaking your head, you both let silence descend as the air in the closet seemed to charge, a current of electricity sparking from your bodies.
The tip of his thumb, which pulsed back and forth over the edges of your spine. Your palms, which had surged up the straining muscles of Sylus’ obliques, re-trapping themselves between the door and his back. The mixture of your breaths, which zapped across the sensitive areas of your face — your eyelids, the corners of your nose, your eyelashes.
Your gaze traced sharp cheekbones; hair so silver you had no trouble finding it in the dark; burgundy irises, the rich, muted red of decanted wine; parted lips, soft and pliant like a sweet that you wanted to taste.
You wondered what it would be like to take them between your teeth. To see how the flavor would change if he were to bend down and kiss you, hard and slow.
Your thoughts blurred as those lips brushed yours, not a kiss, nowhere near as satisfying as a kiss, but enough to make you weave his name into the breath of space between you.
This wasn’t the first time you’d been in this position either, the slightest movement away from kissing each other. For weeks now, your lips and Sylus’ had come so close, and then he’d break the trance. Like-
“Why did you come tonight?” he rasped into your ear, as if the words had clawed their way out of him. He sounded almost desperate. Like if he didn’t say any words, he might do something he couldn’t undo.
A fond smile slid its way across your cheeks at his question, at his (very unnecessary) self-restraint. Tilting your head to face him to the best of your ability, you end up with the top of your head against the wall. His head tilted down in response, blocking your view of the ceiling with his intense expression. The height difference created the perfect distance to look into his eyes.
“What do you always say about silly questions I already know the answer to?” you asked softly, enjoying the way his cheek twitched with the ghost of a smile. "I wanted to celebrate your birthday with you."
A raised brow. "Luke and Kieran texted something about wanting to go over a mission?"
"That was for the boys' benefit." You shook your head. "I figured there was a reason you didn't tell them when your birthday was. That no one knew when it was. I didn't want to ruin that."
He stayed quiet, the intensity in his expression only growing, curling its way through the room and around you like vines of velvet.
“Besides,” you added with a wicked grin, “I kind of like being the only one who knows your birthday is today. I like being the only one who knows just how much brighter. Softer. Safer. The world became on this day.”
The skin of his throat moved with a swallow, his tone rough against soft words. “Always so greedy.”
A breath of amusement escaped your nose. “You should be the one who’s greedy,” you murmured. “It’s your birthday.”
“Hm.” He paused, eyes half-lidded, murmuring, “Are you sure you’re ready for my version of greed, kitten?”
Suddenly certain you’d be happy for eternity if you and Sylus remained in this closet forever — with his wit and his humour, with rasp in your ears and his body cocooning yours — you nodded. Vigorously. Decisively. Leaving no room for uncertainty or hesitation between you.
And there was nothing hesitant about it.
His lips captured yours slowly, fully, the kind that ensured the only source of breath you could pull from was his. The kind that had teeth and hunger behind it, sucking and panting and nibbling and sighing.
Groaning, Sylus slid his body down yours with desperate movements and awkward wiggles, aligning your heights.
So he could close the little space left between you — sliding his hands down your waist, down your back, down your bum until he pulled your legs up and around him and lifted you from the ground when he straightened.
So you could feel as much as you could of each other — the indents of his shirt buttons against your chest, the strands of his hair under your palms, the prints of his fingers on the nape of your neck, the slide of his zipper against your center.
Lightning zapped through your stomach when Sylus growled another moan, which you attempted to redirect by taking his lower lip into your mouth and sucking it in. Inhaling sharply, he moved his hands to fist your hair, as if to hold onto something, as if to anchor himself because kissing you felt too much like flying. Like the inability to take a full breath because he was soaring so high.
Your spine started arching. His arms tightened. The currents of his breath brushed your cheek as he exhaled your name and—
There was a rush of glowing light that flooded the space. “Alright, Boss-man and his precious cargo, we finished up and the room is-“
Luke’s words were cut off as he and Kieran took in your closeness, the way you were tangled into each other — Sylus’ arms wrapped around your neck and bottom, your hands caressing his cheek and his jaw.
A mixture of discomfort, affection, and resignation flashed across both of their faces as Kieran closed the door and plunged you and Sylus into darkness once more with a, “Come to the living room when you guys are done!”
And as Sylus rested his forehead against yours and released a low, teeth-flashing, chest-rumbling laugh, all you could do was murmur, ”Happy Birthday, Sylus.”