Chapter Text
At the start of your relationship, neither of you imagined that a game like this would ever come into play. The idea was fresh, inspired by one late night when you both ventured into uncharted territory, exploring the lives you’d spent apart. You swapped stories of your childhood together and then wondered what might have been if you’d kept in touch over the years. You even entertained the idea of meeting in college, but he quickly dismissed it, noting that his academic trajectory had put him ahead of that possibility.
“Let me imagine in peace. I think seeing each other again at university would be a cute reunion,” you teased, but the conversation shifted toward something more personal.
In a moment of vulnerability, you admitted something you hadn’t shared before. You had never had a one-night stand, and while you weren’t ashamed of the fact itself, you couldn’t help but feel a longing for the experience. This particular longing brought in your shame. You reassured him that you’d never act on it—it went against your morals—but sometimes, when waiting for Zayne to come home from work or while out with Tara, your mind would wander to the possibility.
It wasn't that anyone had recommended it, and you knew not everyone had great stories to tell, but a part of you wanted to break free from your usually rigid boundaries, to embrace something more spontaneous. After all, your life was geared toward becoming a hunter, a goal that left little room for indulgence.
Then you went further, spilling the details of a fantasy that made you flush with shame. You imagined walking into a bar after a long day, a place where Zayne’s usual music wouldn’t play—more electronic beats, something carefree. A man would approach, with genuine interest in you and wanting to steal your attention for himself, call it an ego boost. The sudden hunt for each other, the obscenity of the words you exchange, and the carnage for some reason, stirred something inside you.
You regretted getting so specific but you couldn’t help yourself. As you spoke, your breath quickened, your cheeks flushed, and the heat of your words made you feel exposed. But Zayne, surprisingly, didn’t seem worried or upset. For a brief moment, you caught a flicker of something in his eyes—a curiosity, maybe—and in that second, he seemed to understand. He wanted to know what this desire meant, and whether a night of recklessness might somehow fulfill something in you.
❄
Ever since that conversation, you two continued as if you never confessed. You were content with that, anything further may have caused you to die from embarrassment. You were glad that your boyfriend was patient and understanding of your silly thoughts.
But Zayne didn’t find it silly or something to be overlooked. In fact he couldn’t stop thinking about how you reacted as you confessed: the way your thighs tightened together, the change in your breathing, and the ruddy cheeks that couldn’t hide your true feelings. He wanted to share in your excitement.
But this very day Zayne had insisted on taking you out to eat, brushing off your protests with a smile that made it impossible to argue. “After the day we’ve had, we deserve something special,” he’d said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
His choice of restaurant, as always, was impeccable—elegant without feeling pretentious, the kind of place where the candlelight danced off crystal glasses and the servers spoke in hushed, reverent tones. Zayne never settled for casual. Every outing with him felt like a celebration, a chance to treat you to the very best.
You couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself, effortlessly sophisticated as he pulled out your chair and scanned the menu like he’d been here a dozen times before. He seemed to know exactly what to order, whether it was the chef’s signature dish or a wine pairing that perfectly complemented the meal.
But it wasn’t just the food or the ambiance that made these nights unforgettable—it was the way Zayne looked at you across the table, his gaze warm and unguarded, as though he’d found everything he ever wanted right there in front of him.
You swirled the dark liquid in your glass before you glanced back up at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to try? I promise it won't kill you.”
“You know my tolerance isn’t very high. Besides, it damages your liver.”
“And what can sweets damage over time?” He had nothing to respond back with. You gave a grin knowing you won this round.
“I believe that’s check, Dr. Zayne.”
He picked at the food before him, stabbing a singular piece of cauliflower. “Why don’t you tell me about the potential hazards and risks you may face as a hunter with your syndrome?”
Now you were the silent one this time. His comment knocked the grin off your face and you managed a sip of your wine.
He smiled smugly before continuing “Darling, I believe that’s mate.” He brought the fork to his mouth and pulled the cauliflower off with his teeth.
Oh you were going to get him for that. The opportunity opened when he excused himself at the end of dinner to utilize the restroom and the waiter had left a couple of liquor chocolates for you two.
Bingo.
After the dinner, he suggested going out for a walk in the lively city. As you two walked side by side, you offered him a chocolate. Your offer was met with a curious look.
“When did you get those?”
“At the restaurant, while you were in the bathroom, the waiter dropped these off for us to enjoy.” He gave you a smile and accepted the chocolate. You watched as he unwrapped the delicacy and popped it in his mouth. His smile slowly dropped and his chewing grew hesitant.
“What’s in this?” he asked as he finished the chocolate.
You couldn’t fight your mischievous smile as you watched your plan unravel.
“They said it contained liquor.”
“Planning my demise, dear?” he cleared his throat and shook his head—the aftertaste was not at all pleasant.
“Close. I plan to corrupt you. So what's the harm for a sweet and alcohol, hm?” He only sighed in defeat not believing that you snuck this in.
“Check, and mate.”
It didn’t take too long for the effects of the alcohol to loosen him up. He was flushed, slightly more amused, open to PDA, and would whisper dirty things into your ear. You were ready to call it a night for his sake, but he decided against it.
He extended your date night, though you never imagined it would take you to a bar that played the kind of music you loved. You hadn’t mentioned it—never even hinted at enjoying the bar—but you quickly realized there was no need to worry about the implications. The next moment you suddenly found yourself pressed against the wood of the panel behind you, Zayne’s glasses perched perfectly on his nose, and his hand just beside your head. His lips lowered to your ear, just barely brushing against the skin. And his voice, low and sultry, set a spark in you you hadn’t expected.
“Let’s play a game,” he murmured, his gaze intense as you turned to look at him.
Your heart skipped. He didn't say anything more, just watched as you moved to order your drink, his eyes following you from across the room. But then, the question lingered in your mind: What kind of game was this? Was this his version of a hall pass? Did he expect you to understand? You’d never discussed anything like it before, and surely, there was no way he was giving you the green light to be swept away by another man, right?
The questions began to agitate your negative emotions, but before you could allow it to spill you took a deep breath, held it for 5 seconds, and then slowly released it as you counted in your head.
5
4
3
2
1
As if on cue, a man approached your side. He was silent for the first few seconds and glanced around before he spoke up.
“Having a good time tonight?” You glanced up and gave a light smile.
“Hi.”
“I’m Rafayel.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Rafayel.” You didn’t hesitate to entertain him.
Zayne waited and watched, his gaze fixed on you. You were gorgeous, and the small, nervous habits you do made you more irresistible to him and to the man in front of you—he was certain of it. The way that you touched your hair and tucked it behind your ear, your curious glances at the strange man, and your soft laugh that was elicited from a joke he must’ve made. God…
He clenched his fists, a sharp pang of frustration and heat was sugaring through him and spreading like wildfire. As he continued to watch the two of you interact, the burning was hotter. He continues to watch as you allow the man to get closer without hesitancy. Zayne’s jaw tightened from the scene, his face grew hot as he watched the interaction. Zayne is a patient man, one of his strong suits, but tonight his patience was thinned and he felt himself going crazy. Watching you flirt was maddening. He should have intervened sooner to defuse the rough madness he felt, but he was dedicated to tonight’s unknown game.
He took a breath and made his way over to you. His timing had to be perfect—you’d turn just as he reached you.
But before Zayne could speak, and just right when Rafayel believed he had you in his ropes, chaos struck.
You and the purple haired man turn from the bar, and your drink collides with Zayne’s chest, cold and sticky, soaking into his shirt.
“Oh my g- I’m sorry!” you stammered, your eyes wide with shock.
Zayne looked down at the wet patch spreading across his shirt, then back at you. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen between irritation and amusement. Finally, he let out a relaxed chuckle, brushing his hand over the damp fabric.
“Whoa, careful.” Zayne’s voice was calm, but a flicker of something sharper hid behind it. His hand ran over his now soaked shirt from your fruity drink you ordered and didn’t get to try. “I guess I’ll have to try one of those drinks myself.” His eyes were fixed on yours, steady and unflinching. Your throat felt dry, the words stuck somewhere between your shock and the heat creeping up your neck.
His brows furrowed and he tilted his head at you “You… You look really familiar?” His gaze searched yours as if trying to place you.
Realization hits you fast and strong like a jolt. Oh. So it’s that kind of game. Who would’ve thought Dr. Zayne could be good at roleplay.
You quickly turned to Rafayel to manage an apology. “I’m-I’m sorry Raf, one second. Do I know you from somewhere?” Your attention shifted back to Zayne and you mimicked his same energy.
Zayne’s lips twitched, a faint smile playing at the corner. “Are you the girl from the photo studio promotional photos?”
“Oh yeah that’s right.” Rafayel butted in eagerly, his voice rising as he tried to steer the moment back in his favor. “You’ve got that whole ‘muse’ vibe going.”
But Zayne didn’t look at Rafayel. His eyes stayed firmly on you, as if the interruption didn’t exist.
He leaned against the bar, his damp shirt forgotten as he watched you laugh at Rafayel's latest attempt to impress you. But your laughter didn’t quite reach your eyes, and Zayne caught the fleeting glances you sent his way.
He smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips, and tilted his head slightly, as if inviting you into his world.
When Rafayel excused himself to grab another round, Zayne took the opening. He stepped closer, his voice low enough to make you lean in.
“So,” he began, his eyes flicking briefly to Rafayel’s retreating back, “do you always humor guys like him, or is tonight a special occasion?”
You raised an eyebrow, both half amused and half intrigued, adhering to your role. “He’s… nice. A little overenthusiastic, maybe.”
Zayne chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “Nice guys are great. But do you really want ‘nice,’ or do you want something a little more… unpredictable?”
His words hung in the air between you, charged with possibility.
Before you could respond, he gestured toward the door. “I was actually about to head out. There’s this little coffee shop a few blocks away that makes the best lattes. Open late, too. You want to come with me? Clear your head from all this noise?”
You hesitated, glancing toward Rafayel, then back at Zayne. His expression was calm but confident, his eyes never leaving yours.
“I promise I’ll behave,” he added with a knowing smile. “Unless you ask me not to.”
That final line broke your hesitation. You smiled, shaking your head slightly as you grabbed your bag. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”
Zayne held the door open for you, his grin widening. “Only the good kind.”
As you stepped outside together, the cool night air wrapped around you, and the bar’s noise faded into the background.
You were not grabbing coffee.
❄
Zayne’s attention to detail was nothing short of extraordinary. He didn’t just remember your fantasy—he brought it to life with a precision that left you breathless. You couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation as the two of you hailed a cab, your hand brushing against his in the cool night air.
When the car pulled up to the curb, Zayne moved with his usual effortless charm, opening the door for you and closing it behind him once you were both seated. He leaned forward to give the driver his address, his voice calm and steady, but there was an undercurrent of urgency in the way he turned back to you.
Before you could settle into the seat, Zayne’s lips were on yours—firm, unhesitating, and utterly consuming. The kiss stole the air from your lungs, catching you off guard with its intensity. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on you, especially with the driver just a few feet away.
But Zayne didn’t seem to care. His hand slid to the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as though the rest of the world had faded into irrelevance. There was something electric about the way he kissed you—not just passion, but an unspoken promise that made your heart race.
The cab lurched forward, but you barely noticed. All you could feel was him, and the magnetic pull that made you forget everything else.
As the car rolled to a stop, you stepped out into the biting night air, the chill hitting you like a sharp reminder of the world outside your heated moment. Behind you, Zayne flipped open his wallet, pulling out far more cash than necessary—a generous tip, perhaps, for the driver's discretion.
You looked back at him to not get ahead of his pace, and the sight was unholy, especially for an adept man like him. His tie was undone and hung around his neck and the buttons on his long sleeve you picked off were halfway undone. He moved toward you with purpose, his hand finding your wrist in a grip that was firmer than usual, almost urgent. His touch sent a jolt through you, somewhere between surprise and anticipation. Without a word, he guided you toward the large building looming ahead.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice low as he glanced down at you. His grip loosened, but the apology lingered, a crack in his otherwise sudden confidence.
Your heart raced, the moment leaving you momentarily unsettled, but that feeling dissolved almost instantly as the intensity of his presence overtook you.
By the time you reached the elevator, the distance between you vanished. His lips claimed yours in a kiss that was as fervent as it was inevitable. Time seemed to stop as your bodies pressed together.
The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open, but neither of you noticed. You stumbled inside, lips never breaking their connection, the world narrowing to just the two of you.
Zayne’s lost composure corresponded with the snowflakes sprinkling around you two and the ice that began to form on his chest—a clear sign of him losing control over his evol. His right hand cupped your left cheek and before he could deepen the kiss the sound of the elevator arriving at his floor disrupted his next move. You were the first to pull away.
“Is this your floor?” you asked in between pants from the passionate kiss.
Your comment served as a sign that the game was not yet over. He turned to look at the floor number and nodded. You motioned for him to lead the way and he kept you beside him as if you would run once given the chance. You entered his usually tidy apartment and he pulled you into him, the lack of physical contact leaving him aching. His hand rested and lightly caressed on your lower back, the motions perceptively a sign that he’s holding back from exploring past your boundary.
When he leaned in for a kiss, you turned your head, the movement subtle but deliberate. His lips hovered near your cheek, and you could feel the question forming in his hesitation. Before he could speak, you rested your hand lightly against his cheek, the warmth of his skin grounding the moment.
“I came all this way,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip, “and I don’t even know your name.”
His eyes fluttered shut at your touch, a faint exhale escaping him. Without a word, he caught your wrist, guiding your hand to his lips. The kiss he pressed into your palm was slow, sending a shiver down your spine.
“It’s… Zayne,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, almost a confession.
You tilted your head, a mischievous smile playing at your lips as you whispered, “How do I know you won’t kill me?” The humor in your voice was teasing, but the spark of tension it added to the moment was undeniable.
Zayne’s eyes opened, dark and hungry, the intensity in them holding you captive. He nuzzled into your hand, the gesture unexpectedly tender, like a cat seeking affection.
“I suppose that’s the thrill, isn’t it?” he replied, his tone as smooth as it was dangerous.
God… Who was this man?
Before you could answer, his gaze locked onto yours, and he brought your thumb to his lips. His mouth closed around it, the warmth of his tongue sending a jolt through you as he lightly sucked. The intimacy of the act left the air between you charged, your breath catching in your throat as he held your gaze.
Heat pooled between your thighs at the action and you squeezed them to receive some sort of pleasure in the titillating moment. You wanted to ravage him in the moment, feel him entirely in you, have his lips bless every fiber of your being.
The ache for something deeper, something more than just kissing and teasing, ignited within you. Without a second thought, you launched yourself into his arms, the longing too powerful to ignore.
Even with the haze of alcohol softening his movements, Zayne caught you effortlessly, his grip strong and sure as if he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had. His lips met with your neck, traveling over your skin and leaving a trail of wet kisses as he walked over to his desk and knocked over his medical books with his hand before setting you down delicately. He hovered over your pulse, his hot breath making you shiver in anticipation. He lightly sucked on the patch of skin and swirled his tongue. It elicited a whimper out of you. His sloppy kisses made you dizzy in your established pleasure.
In your daze, you let your head fall back and he continues peppering kisses down to the top of your breasts. His hand moved with urgency, fingers finding the zipper of your black dress and pulling it down in one swift motion. He didn’t hesitate, his palm pressing against your chest before squeezing one of your breasts through the fabric. You reached behind to unhook your bra, freeing yourself from its confines. His eyes darkened with hunger as he leaned in, his tongue flicking over a taut nipple while his other hand kneaded the softness of your other breast. The sensation was electric, every touch igniting a fire that spread through your entire body.
Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, tugging instinctively with each wave of pleasure that surged through you. The soft pull elicited a guttural groan from him, the sound vibrating against your skin and sending a fresh shiver down your spine.
“Just fuck me already.” you breathed out impatiently. You just couldn’t wait any longer, and the dampness in your underwear made clear that your body shared the same eagerness.
Zayne was on the edge of losing control. The tension in his body was palpable—the way his breathing quickened, the tightness in his pants, and the raw, unfiltered need in his eyes. Each touch, each sound, pushed him closer to the brink, his restraint unraveling with every passing second.
At your words, his glasses were gone in an instant, ripped off and tossed aside without a second thought. The urgency in his movements and every action driven by an undeniable need to have you.
His fingers worked swiftly at his belt, the metallic clink barely audible over the pounding of your heart. His pants and briefs slipped down in one fluid motion, pooling around his ankles in a careless heap, echoing the state of your own discarded dress. Neither of you had time to think about tidiness—every second was devoted to closing the space between you.
His hands slid up your thighs, bunching your skirt higher with a deliberate, teasing touch. The fabric gathered at your hips as you shifted on the desk, eager to rid yourself of the panties keeping you apart. With one fluid motion, the offending layer was pushed aside, leaving nothing between you and the intensity of the moment. The rush caused a fluttering in your stomach, a feeling you hadn’t felt in essentially a long time, and he brought it back.
He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip pushing in slowly and effortlessly with your slickness as his lips reattached to your neck. He planted warm and wet kisses that relaxed the tension you held and served as a reminder you were safe with him.
The diminished tension allowed you to take him in with ease. The first few thrusts were slow but overwhelming, and it kept you wanting more. You whined and clutched onto him for stability.
“More...” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of need and desperation. The word barely left your lips before he took the hint, his movements shifting to a more relentless rhythm.
He drove his hips into you with an intensity that left no room for restraint, each thrust plunging deeper than the last. Every inch of him filled you completely, sending jolts of overstimulating pleasure coursing through your body. It was almost too much—an exquisite, torturous bliss that left you gasping and clinging to him as though he were the only thing anchoring you.
It felt like a prayer whispered in desperation, each moan spilling from your lips like confessions from a sinner at the altar, begging for absolution.
Zayne’s face remained in the crook of your neck, he was sure he left a painting of your encounter to last for days.
There were no check-ins that he always had with you, no disrupting questions of “is this okay?” “do you want me to stop/slow down/go faster?”
He hit every spot, and you made sure he knew with your nails raking at his back and the lewd sounds you made by his ear. The deepness of his thrusts were new territory that he was too troubled to step on, but your mewls let him know that he didn’t need to ask for permission.
Your sounds were a melody he put in the work to keep listening, a hymn in his heaven. “That feel good?” he asked breathlessly before he rested his forehead atop yours. From his peripheral vision he watched the way your body bounced to each plunge of his cock—the obscene imagery now etched into his brain.
“Fuck yes…” you exhaled as you arched into him, the proximity not feeling nowhere near enough. You were insatiable for pleasure, for him.
For a short sweet moment, his once quiet and well kept apartment was now littered with books and clamorous cries.
“I couldn’t stop watching you from the bar… You’re irresistible.” His voice was low, each word laced with the raw hunger that had drawn him to you.
“Don’t stop, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling with desperation.
“I bet he couldn’t fuck you like this,” he growled, his husky tone thick with jealousy. You knew exactly who he was referring to, and in a different context, you might have reassured him, soothed his insecurities. But right now, that jealousy... it ignited something primal in you, fueling the fire between you both.
“Don’t think for a second he would’ve been better than me.”
That . That was all it took—the boldness of his words, the sharp edge of his curse, and the bitterness he couldn’t quite hide. It hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of sensation that left you shuddering against him. The world around you seemed to pause, the air heavy and still, as the electricity of your orgasm rippled through you. The pleasure started at your core and spread, leaving every nerve tingling.
A guttural groan escaped Zayne, raw and unrestrained, as your walls tightened around him, pulling him deeper into the moment. He felt himself teetering on the edge of control, but he didn’t hold back. His movements were relentless, chasing his own release with a single-minded focus, even as your body trembled from the overstimulation.
“I’ll… I’ll have to find out next time,” you retorted, your voice wavering as you tested the boundaries. A flicker of doubt crossed your mind—had you gone too far? But the sharp hiss of pleasure he let out silenced your uncertainty, urging you to push further.
“Who are you to stop me?” you challenged, the words tumbling out in a breathless whisper.
His hand shot up, finding your jaw with a firm, commanding grip. He tilted your face upward, forcing your eyes to meet his. The heat in his gaze was palpable— fervent unrelenting, a fiery blend of envy and possession that stole the air from your lungs.
“Say you’re mine.” His voice was low, a command edged with desperation. There was no room for negotiation.
“I’m yours... all yours.” The words spilled from your lips, soft and breathless, your voice barely a whisper as the weight of his demand and ecstasy from his strokes left you trembling.
You felt his thrusts growing rough and messy, even more so as he spills himself inside you. His lips met yours once more and he lowered a hand down to your swollen clit, swirling in circles.
His tongue slid into your mouth without warning, claiming it with a fervent hunger. The taste was intoxicatingly sweet, and you couldn’t resist sucking gently on the slick, red organ. The intimate action couldn’t muffle the guttural grunts escaping him as his body tensed, surrendering to the force of his rippling orgasm.
For a fleeting moment, the two of you were lost in the intoxicating haze of bliss, your bodies entwined and trembling from the shared high. His cock remained buried deep within you, a barrier preventing the warm mixture of your releases from spilling onto the desk beneath.
He braced one hand against the wall beside your head, his chest rising and falling heavily as he steadied himself, his breath brushing against your skin. The room was silent, safe for the soft sounds of your shared recovery, a quiet testament of the moment.
You were the first to break the silence and bring an end to the game. “I didn’t know you could act, Doctor.”
He let out a huff, a chuckle quickly following as he finally responded. “Did it meet your one-night stand expectations?” His tone was light-hearted, but the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes betrayed his lingering insecurity about fulfilling your fantasy.
“Mm… I’m thinking we might need to put our acting skills to the test again,” you teased, your voice playful. “I never imagined Doctor Zayne could pull off being a player.”
“I—I don’t even know where that came from,” he admitted, his brows knitting together briefly. “Did I hurt you at all?”
The tenderness in his voice melted away any lingering tension. You shook your head with a reassuring smile, warmth spreading through you at his unparalleled care.
But then his next question caught you completely off guard. The words hung in the air, surprising you that they’d come from him of all people.
“Do you want to play again?”