Work Text:
The air in the dimly lit safehouse crackles with tension, the kind that makes your skin prickle and your pulse race. Sylus leans against the wall, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk plastered across his sharp features. His crimson eyes glint with amusement, like he’s savoring the way your chest heaves with barely-contained fury.
“You ruined it, Sylus!” you snap, slamming your gear bag onto the table. “I had that target in my sights, and you just had to swoop in with your theatrics. The mission’s compromised because of you!”
He tilts his head, unfazed, his silver hair catching the low light. “Oh, kitten, you’re adorable when you’re mad.” His voice is a low, taunting drawl, dripping with arrogance. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow, you wouldn’t need me to clean up your mess.”
You step closer, fists clenched, heat flooding your face. “Slow? I had it under control until you decided to play rogue! You don’t get to waltz in and act like you’re the hero when you’re the problem!”
Sylus’s smirk widens, and before you can react, he’s off the wall, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. He’s tall, towering over you, his presence overwhelming as he backs you toward the table. “Careful, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “Keep talking like that, and I might think you’re challenging me.”
You hold your ground, glaring up at him. “Someone needs to put you in your place.”
His laugh is low, dark, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I’d love to see you try.” His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist as you move to shove him back. In one fluid motion, he spins you, pinning you against the table. The edge digs into your hips, and his body presses against yours, all lean muscle and heat. His grip is firm but not painful, his fingers curling around your wrists as he holds them above your head.
“Get off me,” you hiss, but your voice wavers, betraying the spark of something else—something that makes your thighs clench.
Sylus leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Make me,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “Or maybe you like this more than you’re letting on.”
Your struggle is half-hearted, and he knows it. His free hand trails down your side, slow and deliberate, his touch igniting a fire that you’re trying—and failing—to ignore. “You’re so predictable,” he teases, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, grazing the bare skin of your waist. “All that fire, but you melt the second I get close.”
“Shut up,” you grit out, but your body betrays you, arching slightly into his touch.
His chuckle is wicked, and then his hand is moving lower, deftly unbuttoning your pants. “Let’s see how much you really hate me,” he murmurs. His fingers slip beneath the fabric, finding you already slick, and he lets out a low, appreciative hum. “Well, well. Seems like you’re not as mad as you claim.”
You bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers slide over you, teasing at first, circling with maddening precision. “Sylus…” His name comes out breathier than you intended, and his eyes darken at the sound.
“That’s it,” he purrs, his fingers dipping inside you, slow and deliberate at first, then curling just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur. “Say my name again.”
You clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but he’s relentless. His pace quickens, his fingers pumping in and out, the wet sounds filling the room as he works you with expert precision. Your hips buck against his hand, chasing the pleasure despite yourself, and he smirks, knowing he’s got you.
“Stubborn little thing,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees without warning. Your breath catches as he yanks your pants down, his hands spreading your thighs wide. “Let’s see how long you can hold out now.”
Before you can protest, his mouth is on you, and oh god, it’s overwhelming. His tongue flicks against your clit, slow and teasing at first, then flattening as he licks a long, languid stripe. The heat of his mouth, the roughness of his tongue, the way he groans like he’s savoring every taste—it’s too much. Your hands tangle in his silver hair, pulling hard, and he growls against you, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through your core.
“Sylus—” you gasp, your head falling back as he sucks on your clit, his fingers still moving inside you, curling and thrusting in time with his tongue. He’s relentless, alternating between sucking and licking, his lips and tongue working you with a skill that makes your toes curl. His free hand grips your thigh, keeping you spread open, his nails digging into your skin just enough to sting.
You’re trembling now, your body wound tight, every nerve singing as he pushes you closer to the edge. His tongue circles your clit, then flicks rapidly, and you can’t hold back the moan that rips from your throat. He hums in approval, doubling down, his fingers plunging deeper, his mouth relentless. The coil in your stomach tightens, and you’re so close, so—
“Come for me,” he murmurs against you, his voice a low command, and it’s enough to send you spiraling. Your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot and blinding, your thighs shaking as you cry out his name. He doesn’t stop, licking you through it, drawing out every shudder and gasp until you’re a trembling mess.
When he finally pulls back, his lips are glistening, his eyes hooded and smug. He stands, leaning over you, his fingers brushing your cheek as he smirks. “Told you I’d clean up your mess.”
You’re too breathless to snap back, but the look in your eyes promises revenge. Sylus just laughs, low and dangerous, like he’s already looking forward to it.
Your body feels like it’s made of liquid heat, slumping against the table as the aftershocks of your orgasm leave you boneless. Sylus’s crimson eyes gleam with that infuriating mix of amusement and hunger as he watches you, his smirk sharp enough to cut. “Look at you,” he drawls, voice low and mocking. “All that fire, and now you’re melting in my hands.”
Before you can muster a retort, he scoops you up effortlessly, his arms strong and warm as he carries you through the safehouse. Your head lolls against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding you as your thighs still tremble. He kicks open the door to his bedroom, the space dark and sleek, all sharp lines and deep reds that scream Sylus. He lays you on the bed, the silk sheets cool against your overheated skin, and you sink into them, still catching your breath.
Sylus looms over you, shedding his shirt with a casual grace that makes your mouth dry. His bare torso is a work of art—lean muscle, pale skin, and those faint scars that only add to his dangerous allure. He climbs onto the bed, his movements predatory, and you can’t help but stare as he unfastens his pants, freeing himself. His cock is hard, thick, and already glistening, and the sight alone makes your core clench with anticipation.
“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he teases, gripping your thighs and spreading them wide. He doesn’t enter you, not yet—instead, he presses himself against you, his bare length sliding between your slick, sensitive folds. The heat of him, the way he glides back and forth without giving you what you want, is maddening. You whimper, hips twitching, chasing more, but he holds you down with a firm hand on your hip.
“Patience, kitten,” he murmurs, his free hand moving to your breasts. His fingers knead the soft flesh, teasing your nipples into stiff peaks before he pinches them, just hard enough to make you gasp. Then his mouth is on you, teeth grazing your skin as he bites down, leaving a trail of stinging marks across your chest. Hickeys bloom under his lips, dark and possessive, each one a claim that makes your pulse race. He sucks hard on the swell of your breast, his tongue soothing the ache before he bites again, and you arch into him, moaning.
“Fuck, Sylus…” Your voice is a broken whisper, and he chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending shivers through you.
“Such a pretty sound,” he says, pulling back to admire his work—your chest is a canvas of his marks, red and purple against your flushed skin. His hand trails up, and he slips a finger into your mouth, pressing against your tongue. Instinctively, you close your lips around it, sucking gently, and his eyes darken, fixed on the way your cheeks hollow.
“Keep going,” he says, watching intently as you swirl your tongue around his finger, teasing the tip like you would something else. “Show me what that mouth can do.”
He shifts, his cock still sliding between your folds, the head catching against your clit with every slow thrust. It’s torture, the way he’s teasing you, dipping just the tip inside your entrance before pulling back, leaving you clenching around nothing. You hum around his finger, desperate for more, your hips rocking against him, but he’s in control, and he knows it.
He smirks, tapping the head of his cock against your clit, the wet slap making you moan around his finger. “Not sucking properly, sweetheart,” he chides, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. Before you can protest, he pushes two fingers into your mouth, deeper this time, making you gag as they hit the back of your throat. Your eyes water, but you don’t pull away, your tongue working around them as you try to please him.
“Pretend it’s my cock,” he says, his voice filthy and commanding. “Show me how you’d play with it.”
You whimper, the words sending a fresh wave of heat through you. You suck harder, swirling your tongue around his fingers, bobbing your head slightly as if it’s him. Your lips tighten, and you hollow your cheeks, gagging again as he presses deeper, but you don’t stop. His eyes are locked on you, dark and hungry, drinking in every detail—the way your lips glisten, the way your throat bobs as you struggle to take him.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous like this,” he murmurs, his cock sliding faster between your folds now, the friction driving you wild. He dips inside you again, just an inch, stretching you before pulling out, and you whine around his fingers, your body begging for more. He taps your clit again, harder this time, and you writhe, your moans muffled as you suck desperately on his fingers.
“Not good enough,” he says, smirking as he pushes his fingers deeper, making you gag harder. “Do better, or I’ll keep you empty all night.”
Your tears streak down your cheeks, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Sylus’s fingers are still in your mouth, pressing deep, and you’re trying so hard to please him, sucking and swirling your tongue despite the way your throat constricts. Your lips tremble, your pride in tatters, but the heat in his crimson eyes and the way his cock slides torturously between your folds spur you on. You bob your head, gagging softly, mimicking exactly what he wants, pretending it’s his cock as he ordered. Your tongue curls around his fingers, and you hollow your cheeks, desperate to earn his approval.
But he’s merciless. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, smirking as you gasp for air. His cock still teases you, dipping just barely inside before pulling away, leaving you clenching around nothing. “Sylus,” you whimper, voice breaking. “Please…”
He arches a brow, leaning back slightly, his hard length resting against your thigh. “Please what, kitten? Use your words, or I won’t know what you’re begging for.” His tone is mocking, but there’s a dark hunger in his gaze, like he’s savoring your desperation
You try to reach for him, but he pulls back entirely, his warmth leaving you cold. He starts to move away, and panic surges through you.
“No!” you cry, wrapping your legs around his waist, locking him in place. Your thighs tremble as you pull him closer, his cock brushing your slick entrance again. Your pride crumbles, and you let out a soft, pleading sob, the kind you know he loves. “Please, fuck me, Sylus. I need you so bad.” Your voice is breathy, raw, and you don’t care how pathetic you sound—not when he’s looking at you like that.
His smirk softens into something almost tender, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming you, and you melt into it, clinging to him. “Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, and the praise sends a shiver through you.
Then, without warning, he lines himself up and pushes inside you, agonizingly slow. The stretch is exquisite, his thick cock filling you inch by inch, and you gasp, your walls fluttering around him. He doesn’t go all the way, stopping halfway, his length pulsing inside you as he watches your face. “Feel that?” he whispers, voice rough.
You nod, whimpering, your hands gripping the sheets. “More,” you plead, looking up at him with wide, desperate eyes.
He arches a brow, infuriatingly smug. “Manners, sweetheart.”
You swallow a frustrated sob. “Please, go deeper. I need all of you.”
That’s what he wanted. His smirk widens, and he thrusts forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out, your body arching as he fills you completely, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. He stills, letting you adjust, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, sending sparks through you. “Fuck,” he growls, jaw tight. “You take me so well.”
Then he starts to move, slow and deliberate, pulling out almost to the tip before sliding back in, grinding his hips so his pubic bone rubs your clit with every thrust. The friction is maddening, building a slow burn that has you moaning his name. His hands grip your hips, tilting you just right, and each roll of his hips is precise, dragging his cock along every sensitive spot inside you. The wet sounds of your bodies fill the room, his cock slick with your arousal, and you’re lost in the rhythm—deep, grinding, possessive.
Your eyes start to flutter closed as the pleasure builds, your body teetering on the edge, but Sylus’s hand shoots to your breast, pinching your nipple hard. Your eyes snap open, a sharp gasp escaping you. “Look at me,” he commands, voice low and rough. “I want to see you when you cum.”
You try to obey, locking eyes with him, and the intensity in his gaze nearly undoes you. He’s watching you like you’re his entire world, but there’s something else—his jaw is clenched, his breaths uneven, like he’s fighting not to lose control. Your walls clench around him as your orgasm hits, a white-hot wave that makes your toes curl and your vision blur. You scream his name, your body shaking, and he groans, feeling your spasms milk his cock.
He stutters, his thrusts faltering, and you can tell he’s close, his control slipping as your pussy grips him tight. Instead of chasing his release, he slows, switching to shallow thrusts that keep him buried just inside your entrance. Every brush of his cock is torture, dragging against your oversensitive walls, and you whimper, your body still trembling from your high. He’s not giving you a break, and it’s too much, too good.
A stray tear slips from your eye, and he leans forward, his tongue darting out to lick it from the corner of your eye. The gesture is oddly tender, and you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Sylus,” you whisper, voice hoarse and breathless. “Hurry up and cum already. I… I need a break.”
He chuckles, low and wicked, but there’s a strain in his voice. “Demanding now, are we?” He thrusts deep, sudden and hard, forcing a gasp from you. “Fine. Let’s make it quick.”
He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle making you see stars as he drives into you. His pace is punishing now—hard, fast, deep, each thrust slamming his cock to the hilt, his balls slapping against you. His pubic bone grinds against your clit with every plunge, and you’re unraveling again, your screams echoing as the pleasure borders on pain. “Sylus! Please, too much—slow down—” Your words dissolve into incoherent gasps, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, his voice deceptively sweet. “Let me have this. Be good for me.”
You nod weakly, forcing your eyes to stay open, meeting his gaze. His face is taut, brows knit with focus, but his eyes burn with raw need. He’s relentless, pounding into you, the bed creaking under the force of his thrusts. You’re a mess, babbling his name, pleading, overwhelmed, but he doesn’t stop.
When he cums, it’s with a low, guttural groan, his eyes fluttering shut despite his own command. His face is a picture of intense pleasure—lips parted, brows furrowed, breaths ragged. He gives a few hard, erratic thrusts, spilling deep inside you, the heat of his release triggering your second orgasm. You cry out, your walls spasming around him, milking every drop as your body shakes uncontrollably.
He collapses onto you, still buried deep, his weight grounding you as you both pant for air. His lips brush your temple, and you feel the rapid thud of his heart against your chest. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breaths.
Sylus’s breath is still warm against your skin, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck as you both come down from the high. The room feels softer now, the silk sheets tangled around your legs, his body a heavy, comforting weight on yours. His silver hair tickles your cheek, and you’re too spent to do anything but let out a shaky sigh.
“So,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, lips brushing your collarbone. “Am I forgiven for the mission fiasco?”
You groan, rolling your eyes even though he can’t see. “Sylus, shut up. You’re ruining the moment.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours, his head still buried against your neck. “Ruining it? Kitten, I just made it unforgettable.” He lifts his head slightly, crimson eyes glinting with that infuriating smirk. “But if you’re still mad… should I go again? Fuck you until you forgive me?”
You swat at him weakly, a tired laugh escaping despite yourself. “You’re impossible.”
He grins, pressing a lazy kiss to your jaw. “And you love it.”