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1. City lights
“Linkon at night is really nice. if youre not in a hurry to go home,wait for me to come find you
Ill share with you what I saw”
Sylus was a man of his word. You did end up seeing each other way more often after the resonance linkage issue- and by now, you were at a stage where you were casually texting and casually catching up. Even Mephisto visited sometimes.
After a particular evening patrol, you got his text and agreed to have the promised joyride through the city. By the time you got off work, he was leaning on his bike two blocks down the Hunter’s Association, per your request.
It’s not like you didn’t know how to ride a motorcycle past the speed limits- Hell, you even had your own and rode it frequently. But riding with him carried the risk of being discovered , a teenage type of feeling, like being caught with the boy your parents forbade you to see. Only, this boy was the most wanted man in the entire galaxy, in entire human history. Your “relationship”, that which could still not be named- a friend or a rival? An enabler?- was still fresh, still ridding itself of its sour beginning.
Hugging him while keeping your hands on his chest and blaming it on his speed choices was starting to become part of your weekly routine. Even worse, it was starting to become weirdly comforting. Reason told you not to trust, but your gut begged for something .
Neon lights rushed past, as different highways reflected off your helmet. Riding as a Sylus’ backpack allows you to lean back and let your worries and frustrations fly with the wind. Back-to-back missions and subsequent paperwork, mixed with long shifts made you welcome this momentary feeling of freedom with open arms.
Late nights with Sylus became a treat every few weeks- it was almost embarrassing how you finished paperwork early just to text him in the bathroom that you were ready.
Almost .
He lured you (as if he needed more than a few words to convince you to spend time with him) with dinner and a joyride and that same evening, you found yourself on a different highway, opposite to any routes you’ve taken before.
Since the man was always full of surprises, it was safe to say you were excited. Forgetting safety measures, you lifted your head from where you had nestled it against Sylus’ back and raised your arms to feel the cold air. You heard a chuckle over the coms and the purr of his black bike, sure that the man would indulge you somehow- you rushed to hug him once he intentionally sped up and rounded a sharp corner. He detoured from the highway into some nature-covered paths and finally, you parked and as you were taking your helmet off- red, a brand new gift- he covered your eyes and led the way, leaning into your ear to instruct you how to walk.
“You can open your eyes now, sweetie”
With a shiver, you took in the prettiest sight Linkon City could offer you. All of its districts twinkled as if the night was not curfew but an excuse to shine brighter. The city looked bigger, imposing, and glazed with autumn chill. Speechless you turned to your companion, hoping he could convey better what you were seeing- only to find his eyes already on you. He raised a brow waiting for your opinion.
“Sylus, it’s beautiful” was the only thing you could muster.
Sheepishly, you gathered your thoughts and glanced at the city again. Linkon mercifully provided specific lit-up streets and slowly you started to piece alleys and neighbourhoods together, materializing your life in the city. You turned to Sylus and smiled.
“Look! That’s the Association! You can even see Destiny's Cafe!”
You sat at the bench and eagerly patted the space beside you. Once he sat down, you continued, pointing at different coloured lights. That’s where you met Tara, that’s where you both ate a delicious meal for a cheap price after a strenuous mission. That’s the street where you killed a particularly strong wanderer without backup with only one gun.
Slowly, you started to assemble pieces of the city- that’s when’s and where’s of your life, that made you the way you are today.
You turned to Sylus after realizing that your companion had been silent for a while, so you decided that the story about your first time at Whitesand Bay could wait. Tender was the only word that could describe his red gaze.
Another shiver coursed through you and you felt a blush spread, only the cold was not to blame this time. A sultry chuckle left his lips as he took you in, brushed his leather jacket off, and placed it over your shoulders. At times like these, you had to remind yourself that this was in fact, Onychinus’ leader , and not just a softhearted, kind man. Not a man you could simply crush on.
What was even more dangerous was the fact that you enjoyed spending time with him, and your profession forced you to push back those intrusive thoughts that compelled you to tell him every single thought that raked your mind. When it came to Sylus, duty and the want to be known clashed, confusing you endlessly. Something inside you ached for him, carnally, as if he alone could make you whole. And still, the oath you took to protect the public made it almost impossible to ignore who he was. What he has done and what he will continue to do.
Carefully tucking a rebellious lock behind your ear, Sylus sighed and leaned towards you. He was so close, you could swear he would hear your rapid heartbeat. Clinging to the edges of his jacket you didn’t dare to back away. The silver haired man offered a bleeding piece of his heart, defying his nonchalant persona with the softest of whispers.
“Can’t believe I’m jealous of a city. You talk so highly of your colleagues and Linkon’s citizens. It makes me curious to know what you think of me”
Heat radiated from your face, reddening the second you heard his mocking laughter after taking in the clear shock that flashed across your features. Sylus moved his hand from his side to your cheek, as if checking for a fever. You scramble for a witty remark, pointedly ignoring how his eyes landed on your lips. Surely you’re imagining things. Surely this man did not just admit something so vulnerable. Surely .
Any retort died on your tongue, interrupted by a blaring alarm. A metaflux spike, a protofiled formation nearby.
Any vulnerability dissipated as you got your aim steady- however, a dark red mist got to the swarm of wanderers first and you watched in awe as those tendrils tore them apart. The protofield flooded with glowing red tendrils, only sparing the protocores you gingerly picked up. As you returned to his side once the protofield dissipated, his shoulders were straight with tension and you felt guilty now that this… escapade ended so suddenly.
You reached for his hand and smiled at him
“Take me home?”
Sylus smiled back and nodded.
2. Something’s gotta give
Fantasising about him was not intentional. It just happened while you were cooking a new recipe, warm with the same amount of glasses it asked for, and dizzy from the spins the soft music mellowed you into.
It just so happened that the piece was the same one that the band played at the Auction. It just so happened that you haven’t seen Sylus in over three weeks.
This coincidence wasn't your fault, really. The last time you danced you were safely in his strong, muscular, sturdy, dreamy arms, spinning gently to a simple waltz- buzzing with adrenaline of the wait for a battle, surrounded by his enemies and people wanting to murder both of you. Trying to simulate his soft touch and the bubble he created for both of you on that night, you caressed your sides while swaying your hips. The thrill, you realised now, didn’t completely come with possible death but by his touch and proximity.
You wanted him, there was no denying it now.
Sylus went on an incredibly dangerous mission on who knows what on Tulla island, betting with himself to stop pestering you and only when you thought he was gone for good, you realised that maybe the fluttering in your chest was not the Aether Core acting up. Maybe, the feeling of getting into one of the most dangerous parts known to man was not nervousness but giddiness . Just maybe, the butterflies you felt were not because he was dangerous but because he made you feel like you belonged with him, by his side.
Maybe, just maybe, wanting to see him was just you liking him after all. Wanting to see his infuriating smirks, his weirdly sweet and old soul, wanting to see him again in that red suit-
You turned to the stove and stirred the pot more harshly than intended, before returning to the sway along the music. He wasn’t so bad, only if you could pass the fact that he was the dangerous leader of the most dangerous and wanted organisation, that could probably kill entire planets just because he can. But that was the thing, your need for him surpassed self-preservation drilled into you on your training days. This need was carnal, spiritual.
Sylus is kind, handsome, responsible, smart, and witty. You sighed and closed your eyes. In your mind’s eye, he was there in your apartment behind you, tracing shapes up, up, up your arms, shoulders and neck. His low baritone voice whispering soft nothings into your ear, promises of what he would do to you once dinner was over.
There was no doubt he could please you. He has , in the past and in several ways, not even expecting something as little as a thank you in return, cleaning up at The Nest for you, caring for your safety, sneaking in some gifts to your door- new jewelry you had seen while window shopping, trinkets you liked- and happily spending time with you like a boyfriend, as if he were a normal citizen. His gentlemanly behaviour left you feeling coy, seen and appreciated.
Now, if he could run societies to the ground, there was no doubt that that power could translate into a more intimate domineering persona. And that was if you wanted him to be that- he has given you the power over him. You’re no idiot, the man has shown you how much he respects your consent and much he enjoys your banter. How much he enjoys you having power over him. Knowing that you had some sort of influence over him was intoxicating. There were goosebumps on your skin now telling you that dinner could wait, that your body needed a different kind of attention.
You thanked the liquid courage and soundproof walls before running to your room and lying in bed.
Freshly bathed, soft sheets, lowlights and an itch to scratch proved the perfect melting pot where you could allow yourself to picture him , instead of your hands. Ridding yourself of every piece of clothing except your underwear, your fingertips traced your legs and slid up, knowing that Sylus would tease even if you were whimpering for more. With a sigh, you landed on your underwear’s lining and went up your navel, your stomach and skimmed past the valley between your breasts.
Your left hand joined the soft caresses on your left nipple, softly circling it before pinching slightly. Your fingers reached your lips to wet them and circle them around your nipples, imagining it was his mouth on you. Your back left the bed momentarily as you repeated the motion.
Whines filled the room. He would drag out the foreplay though, little voices in your head oh so happily whispered. He would kiss your neck, and mark you up in places visible enough. Let you take the lead if you want to, always letting you please yourself using him.
Sylus would let you use him.
Pressing your thighs together wasn’t enough anymore so you grabbed a pillow and placed it between them, hungrily thrusting your hips. He would let you ride his leg, make a mess on his black slacks. He would let you claim him, your scent all over him. A moan left your lips. Your fingers edged your underwear and grabbed the pillow, forcing it to spread your lips over layers of fabric and adding more pressure.
“Sylus…”
Moans started to paint the walls, while your hips rode the pillow along with the music still playing in the kitchen. It was hot, how it gave you enough to imagine his hard muscles on you. And how well you knew them. Sylus’ figure was engraved in your memories- his blushing skin from the steamy shower he took, his deep “v” line, hard abs and rough hands that clashed with soft skin, soft lips. Your hands palmed your mound, imagining those pink lips on it, tracing a path with his tongue towards-
Your underwear and the pillow hit the floor.
There was no point in shame anymore, at least not within your mind, so you let it wander freely. Neediness was not something to be afraid of because the carnal need to feel each other is mutual . You could swear it was there, pushing your insecurities to a deep corner, you could almost be sure of it. You wanted to believe he wanted you too just like this.
From his mouth to his body, all bloodied and sweaty after tearing down rivalling criminals, to how he could pleasure you in any way you wanted him to- because he would follow your every command. A play on control, of mutual giving and taking.His rough hands kindly supplied a lewd picture, his long fingers and perfectly trimmed nails, always searching for a place to land on your body.
Your fingers reached your clit hurriedly, in tight circles. Wet noises reached your ears but your attention morphed them into an obscene image of him on his knees with his head buried between your thighs, devouring you like a starved man. As if eating you out would grant him eternal life. Sylus’ tongue would be insistent but committed, meticulous on his goal of breaking you apart from the inside out, enjoying the obscene moans he could tear from you. Prepping you for the main course.
Your left hand circled your entrance, mimicking his tongue but not enough. Your fingers couldn’t reach like he would- you couldn’t fuck yourself like he would . Still, two of them made their way in, hooking and spreading.
“Sy-”
Not enough, not enough, never enough.
Sighs, wines and begs filled your apartment. Canting your hips up, you started to grind on your fingers, quickly adding a third. He's big, broad and probably veiny, the man would enjoy spreading you open on his fingers before claiming you with his cock. You wanted him everywhere, on top, in your mouth, inside you.
Harder, faster, he wouldn’t be gentle if you beg for it.
Neediness easily made way for plain hunger. Something bigger than an itch, but a primal need to have every inch of his skin pressed to yours, of his essence mixed with yours. Of his cock on your throat, of his tongue, claiming you, of your name erasing itself to become his in every sense of it. He would not use you, he is not that kind of man, but by the Gods, you would let him.
Him, only him. Only Sylus could make you feel so furious, overjoyed, and so hot all over, at the same time. He and no one else could make you cum from his voice alone.
You dreamed of dominating him, the strongest criminal alive, but now, you wanted nothing more than his nails raking down your thighs and that smart tongue on your core, claiming what could finally finally be his. You craved his cock inside, claiming you as his forever, carving a place to live inside your body.
Only he could see you so desperate like this- for him.
With a mental image of a debauched Sylus, with dazed eyes and slick covering his mouth and chin, you came. Blinding, hot pleasure rippled in continuous waves through your body. Moaning his name, you stopped your ministrations, not ready for delicious overstimulation.
After a few minutes, you realized that you felt no shame in coming to that mental image not just because that hunger was momentarily satisfied- but because there was an even deeper coming to.
3. No way out?
You were used to blood, broken bones and injuries during and after battle. It was part of your job description, after all. Even though a large percentage of the Deepspace hunters were skilled, many civilians got injured within protofields that ruined the day-to-day.
This did not mean, however, that you were fine patching up wounds from violent encounters regularly for Sylus. After your… realisation, your nurse side-job became even more difficult.
Worry seeped into your bones like a heavy, wet quilt and slowed your movements. A deep frown painted your usually glowy face. Sylus was just sitting there, pliant, wondering where his fearless hunter was frowning at his wound like it was on your arm and not his. He was used to clinical and efficient hands, shaky from fear of fucking up a stitch on the head of the most important criminal organisation- not to tender hands. You knew this much.
You also knew that you were the one to cross a “line from day to night” to understand his world, and in other words, him. He liked danger, and being in control even when many fought to death for it. He was a leader through and through, Sylus would always be on the first lines.
And yet, back again in the shower at the perfectly hidden hotel, the man rested his chin atop your head, as you finished bandaging his torso. No longer scared to touch him, you traced the superficial scratches and leftover signs of struggle. Reading the wounds you gathered that he was outnumbered; three gunshots, four knife wounds and various scratches and bruises.
A sigh left your lips.
You can’t help but worry. What if there’s new weapons he’s up against next time? New, evol neutralisers or evol controlling guns or whatever new tech that could kill him? You worry for him but also for you. If this is his daily life, how could you hope to have even something that resembled normal life? Would accepting him in your life like this mean you were accepting a death sentence?
He wouldn’t let you die, of course. He would use his body as a shield to protect you- he has done so before, in countless battles against wanderers. And wasn’t that awful too? You didn’t want him to die for you. In your cheesy, romantic, stupid crush, you wanted to live with him.
Multiple properties, nothing really grounded, no cozy house to call home. No routine other than being on the run… Could that really be all there was to life with Sylus? There had to be other constants, other side- a mundane side- that he wasn’t showing you. There had to be laughter, besides the carnage. There must be an alternative.
Another sigh falls from your lips, and your patient can’t take it anymore. Your silence worse than any bullet in him.
“Your bedside manners could use some work, kitten”
His dry knuckles caress your cheek. It’s rough with scabs, and this fact only irks you. Why the hell did he have to fight bare handed, if his evol was so powerful? Why did he have to go hurting himself in every single fight? Your hands fall to your sides as you take his pale, stunning face in. It pains you to see him like this. Only in theory did you ever believe that the strong could be weak too, but then again, didn’t you ask for this? To see different sides of him? For him to be so vulnerable and open with you?
His eyes are different now, afraid of your silence. Scared that you’ll leave him now that he’s shown he’s only human, even with power that only thousands of men could rival. His garnet eyes search for yours in this dingy bathroom.
You break, holding his hand to your face.
“Well, you’re stuck with me now. Bear with it or bleed out”
Somehow you get him to bed. Somehow you get him to close his eyes, pleading silently for you to stay. You do. You hold his hand while you ring the twins. You hold his hand and sigh for the nth time.
4. You fascinate me so!
After delivering the protocore to the Association Sylus and you found, Captain Jenna asked if you could do an in-depth report to the board on the effects of said red gem. Eager to do so, you took the task and made your way home.
As you rounded the corner some blocks away from your apartment, you stumbled on the market that rarely took place. A restless night full of cramming information before freaking out and practising formal sentences in hopes to make a coherent speech awaited you, so you decided to comb through the stalls for a little while, eager to procrastinate.
Weaving the little stands you stumbled upon a record stall, selling different vinyls of centuries ago. Before a certain music lover, white-haired man flashed across your mind’s eye, you remembered you owned a table turner- not as high class as his, but functional. Besides, this could be a perfect excuse to barge into his house again.
While picking different genres, the owner struck up a conversation.
“Looking for a particular album, miss? Feel free to pick them up and browse to your heart’s content!”. Linkon sellers were enthusiastic indeed.
You offered a polite smile and continued with your browsing; while thumbing the jazz box, you stumbled upon a familiar record. Warmth and nostalgia made you tear up.
“Oh, looks like it found you” The owner sympathetically nodded and offered more records similar to the one in your hands. Not being one to leave the awkward feeling in the air, you sighed and smiled.
“Back when my grandma was alive, the moment she woke up she cleaned the turntable. Music always filled her home”.
You didn’t miss the woman herself, but the little family you had created. Caleb and you against the world and boring records. You and him graduating and celebrating with music before his departure to the DAA. You, as a young girl appreciating music in a safe home. The record in your hands, a jazz compilation, was on loop on the weekends while Josephine cooked an only-Sunday special meal. How you yearned to remember her as a grandma and not a scientist eager to torture you.
With a surprising amount of strength, you managed to swallow your tears and get your wallet out. The owner offered you a discount “for your service, since you hunters don’t have it easy out there”.
Dusting up the table turner, you placed it on the coffee table and cleaned it rigorously before playing one of the many records lying beside it. Sighing, you closed your eyes and imagined your grandma cleaning the needle and letting music flood her house. You ended up finishing the report and speech in high spirits.
As you stood up ready to wrap up the night, a caw and insisting taps made you rush to the window. Mephisto and you overcame your differences after a mutual apology and some pets on its metal head. By now, he came back to the N109 Zone with pretty bows or ribbons tied around his neck and stickers on his beak- airspeed be damned.
Before letting him in, you hastily hid your records and table turner, realising that the bird could ruin your surprise. You lifted and placed him on the coffee table right in front of you.
You straightened your posture, fixed your pajamas as if they were your hunter uniform, and practised your speech. The bird cawed here and there, either proving he was paying attention or he didn’t like a sentence. After a particular interruption, you groaned.
“Mephisto we’ve corrected this part three times already! It’s almost midnight!” He flapped his wings and danced around the table, mocking you. As you slammed your flashcards on the carpet, your phone rang. The crow’s owner popped up on the screen. You squinted at it.
“You told on me, didn’t you?”. Another squawk. Pressing some buttons, you put Sylus on speaker.
“Correct me if I’m wrong” you rolled your eyes, “but isn’t all this classified information?”. His tone full of mirth swirled with your irritation of not getting the speech right and tiredness from not sleeping.
“You were there. It doesn’t matter if you both listen. Why are you calling me? Do you want him back?”. You were greeted by silence.
“You’re pulling another all-nighter, aren’t you?”. His tone was serious, and it backed you up into a corner. Ashamed and guilty for your outburst, you nodded completely forgetting that the man couldn’t see you. He hummed, understanding your silence and letting you off the hook.
“Why don't you come by, if this presentation isn’t due soon?”
Sylus’ request surprised you, but remembering your promise in the grasslands- of wanting to meet up without excuses or any pretense. You melted. All the frustration left your body as you sagged on your couch. You reached your hand as a perch for the bird, which flew to it and crooned. As you booped its beak, you sighed.
“Can’t. All this happens the day after tomorrow. I want to do it right”. You stared at your phone with warm cheeks. “I still want to see you, though. We promised”.
His deep laugh sent goosebumps all over you. Sylus’ soft sigh left you eager. “I’ll be waiting then. The door is always open for you, sweetie”.
Full of butterflies, you agreed and ended the call.
Your triumph over the monumental task left you drunk with power three days later.
Quickly packing your records and an overnight bag, you booked it to Sylus’ home. You barged in, running from the lobby to his office, expecting him to be reading mountains of intel or bidding. Said man, however, was nowhere to be seen. No twins or crow either.
You left the records in the music room, feeling all high and dry, your petty stomps led you to the kitchen hoping to find a wine bottle to nurse until the owner of the house returned. Being careful of the power his stash of alcohol had, you poured a small amount, just enough to warm the skin.
Seated by the fireplace, you recalled why you even had the privilege to be sitting leisurely in that chair. Being with Sylus until now has been a rollercoaster of emotions for you. Maybe only for you, not only because the main factor was your identities that directly opposed each other, but because falling in love and accepting it was even more confusing.
Sylus cares deeply, his only flaw being his workaholic nature- even him being secretive was understandable because of his position. His honesty shone through the difficult questions, readily agreeing with you wanting to be more sincere about your feelings, to his direct and open adoration of you. If anything, being hinted that there was something between you in the past made you even more curious.
Since the linkage appeared and Sylus became a major character in your life, the feelings started developing confusingly. At first, the relationship was truly just for mutual benefit mostly for yours but then you started realising that Kieran was right, the only mean thing about Sylus was his appearance. Helping fellow N109 citizens to give a better life for their children and having a soft spot for cats- the man was no philanthropist as he often said, but he behaved like one.
The turning point for you was realising that admiration danced playfully with a crush and then developed into deep affection and respect. The Aether Core within your heart sang when he was near, when you heard his voice after a long day of fighting, or when you remembered he entertained every antic you had for him, when he indulged you the first and trillion times you begged to play Kitty Cards, when you remembered that moment where you realised that he was the only man that respected your autonomy.
The relationship evolved from mutual trust to wanting to be there for each other, no matter the after-effects of it all. And as you promised in the grasslands, you didn’t want to think of him as the leader of a powerful organisation, but as an equal partner. A companion, a partner.
A lover .
Your heart craved Sylus beyond physical attraction. The limerence of new things quickly being replaced by a feeling of being bonded through long-forgotten promises, of softness and desire. Accepting this was like returning home, being welcomed with open arms by someone who had been waiting patiently. Memories of him kneeling and offering wine with ardour, whispers of love in an unknown language drifted back to you like tides of a calm sea. A deep sigh escaped you, no longer wanting to hide your desire to be close to Sylus.
Your feet padded back to his room, pointedly ignoring your overnight bag and pawing at his pajamas, looking for the grey sweater and large matching sweats. You returned to the music room and changed the record, standing in front of the table turner.
The first chords filled the room with a known piece. Reminiscing the night at the auction once more, your body flowed with the melody, snorting at your childish desire to learn how to dance just so you didn’t step on his foot again. After another twirl, a broad hand landed on your lower back and moved to your waist, leading you to a warm chest. Sylus’ rich cologne ignited your senses. You looked up at the towering man and smiled, giddy as if it were the first time you ever saw him.
“Hi”
You meekly greeted him and turned in his embrace. Framed by the soft light, his hair looked like a halo. Sylus smiled back, his fondness openly showing in his crimson eyes. His thumb caressed your hips over his sweatshirt, smirking once he shamelessly took in your- his- outfit.
“Hello sweetheart. This is a pleasant surprise. I take the presentation went well”
You basked in his gaze and nodded. The man listened to you attentively, only interrupting you to praise your perfect performance at work. Your ramblings continued enthusiastically once you got to explain your small musical surprise. You seated Sylus in his expensive leather chair and presented your market finds, the best records in each hand.
“I thought it would be nice if we listened to them together”, you stated while staring through your lashes.
As he stood, he grabbed your forgotten wine glass to take a sip and then chose a vinyl. The man placed the glass just beside the turn table and offered a broad hand, and as you took it he kissed your knuckles. Ever-so-perceptive, Sylus murmured soft commands so you could follow his pace better. The gentle waltz turned to gentle sways, your combined frames ebbing and flowing only letting go after long minutes of silence, the turn table demanding a new record.
After the monumental task of separating, you skipped to the selection and smiled at the possibility of causing just some mischief. You picked “Pretty Eyes” and returned to your rightful place, hugging Sylus’ waist. Fully expecting the man to ignore your nervousness, the first song started playing and you prepared to execute the master plan.
“As you desire me, so shall I come to you” Sylus whispered in your ear. Shivers zapped through your body, and your head left his chest to stare in pure disbelief. His smug smirk greeted you. Taking advantage of your momentary shock, the man spun you twice, enjoying the way you struggled to keep his pace. Damn it! The know-it-all beat you to it!
“And now, come take me, my soul is yours” . The man continued reciting the lyrics, caressing your flushed cheeks with the back of his hand, resuming your waltz around the room. His fond voice broke your facade, a deep laugh vibrating through your chest. Like a vow, he finished the song and twirled you, your back against his chest once more.
Not wanting to bail on the plan without a fight, you regained your composure and straightened in his arms, ready to dance to the next song. So you did, laughing into his neck after rapid turns and swaying to the upbeat songs in the album, enjoying the warmth in his chuckles and expressions at your bickering, almost forgetting what you were after in the first place. The last turn landed you both at the centre of the room, filled with panting and giddy smiles, adoring looks mirroring each other.
Mustering up the courage to not break eye contact even with red cheeks, for the next song, you lowered your hands to his chest and finally purred some lyrics back at him.
“I have a feeling that beneath that little halo on your noble head, there lies a thought or two the devil might be interested to know”. You didn’t shy away from his mirth, eager to surprise and give anything he was willing to accept. So you turned this into a show.
“You’re like the finish of a novel that I’ll finally have to take to bed” , you escaped his arms and circled him, letting your right hand trace his right shoulder to his left forearm. Facing him again, you leaned in while pulling in his black lapels, dragging the man to your height.
“You fascinate me so”. His voice echoed yours, sweet and deep like honey. A statement, more than a simple lyric.
Your gaze landed on his lips, soft and inviting. Emboldened by his expression and filled with desire, you raised to your toes and nosed any bare skin you could reach. He leaned down and let you have your way, supporting your lower back, both silently agreeing to end the dance and bask in each other.
“Sylus”. You sighed his hum vibrated through you.
Finally, in his embrace, you could fulfill your fantasies of his soft touch. Since the grasslands, you just didn’t find any excuse to be close to him like this. Excited at the prospect that there was no need to find an excuse, your smile turned into a grin. Vulnerable and bold, your lips ghosted over his neck as you let your hands roam over his upper body. Your fingers traced the red patterns on his sleek black shirt, following the path of buttons to his leather belt and then back up to his clavicles, popping open a button or two. Cheekiness failed to mask want- to be closer, to give in both body and soul .
His name left your lips in a huff. Desperate for him to feel your need, you hugged him tightly, heart beating loudly. Hazy want clashed with love , bashful and now painfully obvious. You wanted to sing it again, pronounce it true as surely as he did when his fingers caressed your hair and braided his affection onto it. You looked up at him and reached for his face once more, tracing the scar above his eye. Your hand rested on his right cheek.
“My beloved”
An oath as unquestionable as life itself.
His embrace faltered, taken aback by your brazen sincerity and taking advantage of it you interlocked your hands behind his neck. With more leverage, you easily left a trail of pecks from his right eye, his cheek down to his chin, traveling to the neck and resting your head over his heart, relishing in the sound of his rapid heartbeat. “Say it back”, you whispered.
His hands left your waist to hold onto your face. An indescribable expression softened his features reverently taking you in, before closing his eyes as if pained by his affection. Raising to his full height, he opened his eyes and met yours with determination.
“My beloved”
Your heart soared, finally in tune with his. He leaned down once again, just so that your foreheads touched.
His hold tilted your face slightly, appreciating every little inch of you. You nestled his palm and kissed it. Sylus sighed fondly. You fluttered your eyes shut, eyelids heavy with delight. If he’s not going to do it? And then it clicked. He was waiting for explicit consent.
“Ever the gentleman, aren't you?”. He nodded, bashful.
“Can I kiss you?”
As an answer, your lips traced the corners of his mouth just to savour his smile before pecking it shyly. A pant left his lips, with a finality that kickstarted a desperate need to hold back his desire lest his longing bled through it. You caught onto this quickly and giggled. His breath, ragged and desperate, fanned over your face.
Like a prayer, he mouthed your name into your neck, failing to retain his composure. Sylus kissed your shoulder, mirroring the pecks you left on him. His form hunched over yours, tracing his hands over your thighs, ready to carry you to his bedroom to show you just how gentle his loving could be- only to be interrupted by a ball of screeches.
“Boss! Boss! There’s been a big update on- oh”
You laughed at the very shocked twins, coming to terms with the image they just barged on. Your very kiss swollen lips and Sylus’ hazy eyes, your form cradled in his lap- their puppy like behaviour amused you. Mephisto took advantage of the gap Luke and Kieran left at the door and flapped to your hand. All the while, dark, crimson irises admired you, as you made yourself at home in his lap, legs framing his own. How you commanded his men to leave and fill in a report for him to look at in the morning.
Cradling his face once again, you kissed him deeply, parting only to ghost them over his just to engrave every single detail into your heart. The man panted, gruff breathing revealing his crumbling resolve. You smiled against his mouth and let your very sleepy form melt against his chest.
This type of intimacy would do. This life could do. Sylus kissed the crown of your head as you fell asleep, safe in his arms. As you confessed your love to him. As you finally realised that he was as your as you were his.