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zayne . ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .
You straddled him, hips rocking deliberately, a teasing, controlled rhythm that left him gasping beneath you. Zayne leaned back on his elbows, letting you take the lead, but his hands weren’t idle. Fingers pressed along the curve of your hips, thumbs grazing the sensitive skin at the junction of thigh and hip. One hand drifted higher, brushing over the soft swell of your waist, tracing the gentle hollow beneath your ribs before settling to anchor you right where he wanted.
“God, look at you,” he breathed, voice steady but warm, eyes following every shift of your hips, every subtle tensing of your muscles under his fingers. “You’re so beautiful like this, on top of me — taking what you need.”
Your hands braced on his chest as you leaned forward, lips brushing over his collarbone. He groaned softly, the vibration against your palm sending tiny sparks of pleasure through you. His fingers pressed into your hips, then slid over the tender sides of your waist, up to your chest, rolling and pinching your nipples between cool fingers. Every tiny press, every careful stroke, made your body respond instinctively, moving in sync with his hands and the heat radiating off him.
His touch wasn’t just guidance — it was exploration, reverence, the kind of heat that made your chest tighten and a shiver roll down your spine. His low murmurs against your chest and neck carried a weight, each word vibrating through your skin, a tether keeping you tethered to the present, to him.
You tilted your head, breath hitching, and it slipped out — ragged, unthinking, a whisper of desire:
“ Fuck– Caleb , right there,”
For a heartbeat, Zayne froze beneath you. His chest still rose and fell, but the sound of your voice caught him off guard. His jaw tightened slightly, a shadow passing over his features — a flash of hurt, just enough for you to feel the subtle shift in his touch. His thumbs pressed harder into your hips, grounding you, but there was a tense stillness in him, a pause in his usually calm cadence.
“You… said his name,” he murmured, voice low, almost a whisper, carrying a trace of that unexpected sting. His hands gripped your hips firmly now, but not roughly — just enough to tether you to him, to remind you where you were.
Your cheeks flushed, and you leaned closer, trying to meet his gaze, but he shook his head slightly, a quiet, controlled exhale escaping him. “Are you… thinking about him?”
“No– I don’t know why I…” you trailed off, unsure how to explain such a slip to him.
“Mine,” he said, firm now, reclaiming himself and you. His grip adjusted, sliding up your torso, palms molding to your curves like he was memorizing every inch. “Say it again — say my name.”
Your hips rocked against him again, guided by his hands, and your moans broke out in ragged bursts, now tethered to him alone. “ Ngh –Zayne… Zayne…” you gasped, voice trembling, meeting his stare.
A faint chill brushed your skin where his fingers trailed up to cup your breasts again — a whisper of frost sparking under his touch, subtle but unmistakable, like the smallest hint of his Evol stirring beneath the surface. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, then leaned up to catch the other between his lips, sucking hard enough to make you cry out. His other hand slipped lower, finding your clit with perfect precision, circling in tandem with the way he thrust up into you. It wasn’t frantic — it was devastatingly controlled, calculated, the rhythm of a man who knew every weakness in your body and exploited them ruthlessly.
“Good,” he murmured against your chest, tongue flicking over your sensitive peak before his lips sealed around it again. “Focus on me. Every moan, every movement… mine. Only mine. Don’t let your mind wander again.”
You gasped against him, hands sliding up into his hair as your body trembled under the dual assault of his mouth and his hand. Your hips stuttered, pace faltering as the pleasure climbed too high to maintain composure. Zayne adjusted instantly, steadying your rhythm with a firm grip at your waist while his thumb pressed harder against your clit, coaxing your surrender with infuriating skill.
“We belong to each other," he whispered, voice softening but firm, green eyes locking onto yours with searing intensity. The frost at his fingertips spread just enough to tingle along your skin, a cool contrast to the molten heat building between you. “Even in thought… even in your fantasies. Don’t forget it. Please, Darling.”
The plea cracked something inside you — and when you cried out his name again, louder this time, every syllable came out as surrender. He groaned low in his chest, lips dragging from your breast to your throat, teeth scraping lightly as he thrust up into you harder, perfectly timed with the roll of his thumb.
Your orgasm hit fast, brutal, every nerve alight as you shook against him. He didn’t let up, holding you to him, forcing you to ride it out, his hand and hips working you through wave after wave until tears pricked your eyes. The sound of your broken moans, his name spilling from your lips, pulled him with you — his pace faltered, grip tightening on your hips as his body shuddered.
“That’s it, Darling— fuck —feel it,” he growled, pulling your hips flush to his, forehead pressing against yours. The heat of him spilled into you, his voice breaking with the force of his release. “All of it. It’s for me—not him.”
The two of you clung together through it, his lips brushing yours in soft, grounding kisses even as his body trembled beneath you. Zayne’s hands never left you — still cupping your breast, fingers still tracing delicate circles into your skin like he couldn’t bear to stop touching, couldn’t bear to let go.
As his breathing steadied, the small hints of frost lingering like a whisper of the power beneath his calm, Zayne kept you straddling him, tethered by both desire and ownership. Every movement, every moan, every press of your body against his reinforced the truth: you were his, and in this moment, he would make sure you never forgot it.
He pulled you gently down onto his chest once the heat had ebbed, arms wrapping around you with deliberate care. Your bodies were sticky, breathless, flushed together, and for a moment, he just held you, letting you feel his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.
Then his voice came, low but gentle, threaded with concern. “Hey… look at me.” His hands tilted your face, thumb brushing along your cheek. “Why did you say his name?”
You hesitated, biting your lip, eyes flicking down. He pressed a finger under your chin, lifting it so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes were calm, but there was a depth there — a quiet intensity that demanded honesty.
“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, cheeks warming further. “It just… slipped…”
He exhaled slowly, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “Was I… not making you happy?” His question wasn’t accusatory, just searching, probing — an anchor in the aftermath of the earlier intensity.
You shook your head quickly, words catching in your throat. “No… it’s not that. It’s just—”
He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, letting you collapse against him. “You’ve fantasized, and that’s… human. But hear me, darling: I’ve been here for you. I’ll always be here. But nobody—no one—could fulfill you the way I do. Not him, not anyone else. Only me.”
His hands roamed over your back, careful, tender, yet possessive, pressing you closer into the curve of his chest. “You’re mine,” he murmured, letting the words settle, letting you feel them in your bones. “And I won’t allow you to forget it. You belong to me, and I to you, and I will always hold you this way.”
He lingered there, soft touches and whispered reassurances blending with the quiet rhythm of your breathing, creating a cocoon of intimacy. His thumb traced circles on your hip, and his voice, calm but firm, wove a promise around you.
“You don’t need to think about anyone else,” he said gently. “Not while you’re here. Not while it’s me.”
And in that quiet aftercare, holding you close, Zayne’s earlier flare of hurt melted into protective warmth — possessive, devoted, and unwavering. He didn’t let the slip erase what had just happened between you; instead, he cemented it, ensuring you felt both desired and safe, tethered to him in every sense.
xavier. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .
He had you sprawled across the bed, hands and lips reverent, mouth tracing every inch of you like he’d memorized you by heart. His silver hair brushed your thighs as he worked his way down, and the faint scent of him — lavender and warmth — filled your senses. His lips pressed soft, lingering kisses along the curve of your inner thighs, and his tongue flicked out in deliberate, teasing strokes, tasting, memorizing, savoring.
His blue eyes flicked up at you every now and then, soft and glowing with devotion, before returning to the task of driving you crazy. “I missed you so much, my star,” he murmured, lips brushing against your folds, tongue teasing in deliberate, measured strokes. “Always so sweet for me,”
His hands pressed against your lower stomach, holding you steady as you pressed back against him, grinding into his face with desperate need. Fingers tangled in his silver hair, pulling lightly, urging him closer, deeper, and he responded with a hum that vibrated straight through you. Every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, made your back arch, your thighs quiver, and your nails dig into the sheets.
The warmth of him, the rhythm of his mouth, the way he could make you shiver and moan without ever touching you anywhere else — it was intoxicating. Your body trembled as he alternated between slow, teasing laps and firmer, more insistent presses that left you gasping and grinding against him, unable to get enough.
He held you firmly by the hips, leaning into the motion, guiding you while never breaking his rhythm. Your hips moved of their own accord, chasing his mouth, grinding down harder as you whimpered and gasped. Every sound — every moan, every shudder — seemed to feed him, and he murmured praise between flicks of his tongue and teeth grazing sensitive skin, drawing shivers and whines from you.
The haze of pleasure, the softness of his touch, the warmth of him — it all wrapped you so completely that you couldn’t think straight.
“Mmm… Sylus , please—”
The name slipped out before you could stop it, a soft, breathless moan.
Xavier froze.
Every muscle in his body stiffened, and for a moment the room felt impossibly quiet. Then he was looming above you, eyes storm-dark, lips pressed into a hard line.
“Are you trying to make me angry?” he asked, low and dangerous, the calm worship gone.
“N-no—it was an accident, I don’t know why I—”
“An accident?” He cut you off sharply, the words like steel. His hand caught your wrist, yanking you upright. “Get up.”
You hesitated, confusion and nerves tangling in your chest, but he didn’t give you time to think. He pulled you off the bed, manhandling you across the room to the floor-to-ceiling window. The cold glass pressed against your bare skin as he pressed behind you, chest hot against your back, hands gripping your waist like iron.
“Fantasizing about a criminal, while I’m right in front of you,” he whispered, breath hot in your ear. “You want him to fuck you like I do?”
“No—I don’t—”
“Are you sure? You were thinking about him, while grinding on my tongue.” His voice was a low growl, dark and possessive, every word sinking into your skin like a brand. The heat of his body pinned you in place, his length pressing insistently against the small of your back until it felt as though he’d burn straight through you.
He wrapped a firm hand around himself, dragging his tip through your slick folds — slow, maddening, never giving you the friction you so desperately ached for. Each time you tried to push back, hoping to feel the delicious stretch of him, he stopped you with an unyielding grip, forcing you to tremble under his control.
“Fuck—Xavi, please—”
He seized your jaw, tilting your head until his mouth crashed against yours in a bruising kiss. There was nothing gentle in the way he devoured you — his tongue was rough, tasting of fury and hunger, his teeth catching your lower lip before sucking it deep into his mouth. The sting only made your cries sharper, your desperation more obvious, every needy sound swallowed down between his lips.
“He watches you, doesn’t he?”
The words struck like lightning, slicing through the haze for one breathless moment of clarity. You understood, then — what he was after. The thought that Mephisto — any one of his lackeys — might be out there, unseen but witnessing, watching as Xavier fucked you like this. The realization hit you low and hard, molten pleasure curling through your stomach, pooling in a place you couldn’t ignore.
“S-sometimes…” you admitted, your voice breaking.
“Then let’s show him, star. Show him how good I make you feel.”
He released your jaw, guiding your face back to the cool glass. His hands drifted down the length of your spine in a languid path, urging you forward, arching you open for him — baring every trembling inch to his control.
He thrust into you from behind, hard and unrelenting, every motion calculated to overwhelm. Your nails scraped against the glass, leaving shallow scratches as his pace smashed into you. His free hand trailed up, cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your sensitive peak, pinching lightly with each thrust. His lips pressed to your shoulder, biting and sucking, leaving a trail of heat and bruises in his wake.
“Ah! Xavier–” you cried, meeting his thrusts with your hips desperately, blindly grasping at his hair to pull him closer, tongue almost brushing his jaw as his cheek pressed into yours, claiming every inch.
His hand slid down between your legs, brushing over your clit in time with his strokes, rubbing and flicking, driving you further toward the edge. His movements were rough, relentless, each thrust calculated to elicit maximum sound, maximum surrender from you.
He leaned closer, resting his chin on your shoulder, whispering hotly into your ear, “That’s it, star… look at you, ruined for anyone else. You think he could— ngh —make you feel like this?”
You arched, whines and moans spilling from your lips as he drove into you harder, the glass cold beneath your palms, your knees trembling. Every muscle in your body clenched and released under the relentless rhythm, your breath ragged. Xavier’s mouth found the curve of your neck again, lips and tongue tracing down to your shoulder, teeth grazing, sucking more bruising marks into the soft flesh.
“Xavier! Please–” your voice broke, shivers racing down your spine as he thrusted with brutal precision, his hand still massaging your clit in perfect, maddening timing.
“You feel that, star? That’s all me,” he growled, hand coming up to press on your lower stomach, feeling himself deep inside. “Every moan, every cry, mine. Only mine. I’ll carve my shape into your body, no one else fits you like I do.”
You couldn’t hold back anymore — the added pressure had him grinding into the spot that made your toes curl — the combination of his hands, mouth, teeth, and relentless thrusting pushed you over the edge. Your legs shook, trembling as you cried out his name over and over, body shuddering violently around him. Xavier didn’t let up, driving you into the glass with a final, punishing series of thrusts that had you gasping and moaning, tears prickling your eyes.
He followed swiftly, growling your name as his climax ripped through him, chest pressing into your back as he shuddered, gripping your hips with bruising strength, riding out every pulse together.
Your body sagged against the glass, boneless and trembling, every nerve still humming from the brutal way he’d wrung you out. Xavier’s chest heaved against your back, hot breath washing over your ear as he growled your name again, slower this time, savoring the taste of it. For a moment you thought he might finally relent — but instead, he caught your jaw and forced your head to the side, claiming your mouth in a messy, consuming kiss.
“Don’t think it’s over,” he rasped against your swollen lips, tongue tracing them as though he hadn’t just destroyed you. His arms slipped under you, lifting you effortlessly as though you weighed nothing. You were carried across the room, still dizzy, until your back hit the bed. He laid you down only to crawl over you immediately, his mouth devouring the soft line of your throat, your collarbone, the salt of your skin.
“You think I’ll be satisfied with just this?” he murmured, teeth grazing at the marks he’d left earlier. His hand gripped your thigh possessively, dragging it up around his hip until he was pressed against you again. You could feel he was still impossibly hard, the evidence of his possessiveness digging into your twitching entrance.
“Every inch of you, star… I’m going to claim it again and again until you remember who you belong to.” He kissed down your sternum, slow and hungry, his words seared into your skin with every breath. “No one else touches you. No one else gets to hear those sounds. They’re mine.”
Even as your body quivered from overstimulation, his hands soothed down your sides, stroking over every tremble as though cataloguing your weakness. The jealousy in him hadn’t dimmed; if anything, it made his touch more fervent, more insistent — his lips never leaving your skin, as if to mark and remark you, until you were stained with nothing but him.
sylus. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .
His hands had been all over you for what felt like hours — slow, savoring, deliberate. The kind of touch that made your body ache with sweetness, that left your chest tight and your lips trembling with every shuddering breath. Sylus had you pinned beneath him, his mouth tracing reverent paths along your throat, pausing at your pulse as though worshiping the steady beat beneath his tongue.
“Mm… kitten,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough velvet. “Let me hear that pretty voice of yours. You don’t know what you do to me.”
Your hips arched, helpless, pressing into the steady grind of his. He chuckled low, fingers sliding down your stomach, brushing just above the place you wanted him most. He always teased you like this in the beginning, lingering touches meant to remind you he wasn’t in any rush.
“Patience,” he coaxed, lips dragging across your jaw, catching your mouth in a kiss that made your toes curl. “I could worship you forever. You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Let me take my time…”
He dragged the head of his cock slowly through your folds first, savoring the way you shuddered at the friction, deliberately avoiding giving you what you needed. His mouth brushed yours, hot and unrelenting, while his hips rolled just enough to make you whine.
“Do you want it, kitten?” he murmured against your lips, voice low and sweet. “Want me to fill you up?”
All you could manage was a desperate whine and nod. Sylus smiled against your lips, rubbing teasing circles over your clit with his swollen tip. He relished the way your breath hitched, drinking in every little sound that escaped your throat.
Only when your nails dug crescents into his shoulders, your body arching to chase him, did he finally ease into you — inch by inch, agonizingly slow — until you were gasping, clawing, breaking apart under the deliberate torment. He swallowed every ragged moan, each sound fed into his kiss as though it were a vow.
“That’s it, sweetie. Feels good, doesn’t it? …God, you’re perfect.”
You clung to him, shuddering at the fullness, the way he seemed to touch every aching place inside you. His pace was steady at first, rolling, coaxing — each thrust perfectly timed to make you writhe. Your head tipped back, words spilling without thought, a desperate cry —
“ Xavier —!”
The name slipped raw from your lips before you even realized, caught between a sob and a moan.
Sylus stilled. Completely.
For a heartbeat, dread carved down your spine — you thought you’d ruined everything. That he’d pull away, go cold in your arms. But when his head lifted, when his gaze locked on yours, there was no anger. No rejection.
There was something far more dangerous.
Amusement.
A low laugh spilled from his chest, curling around you like smoke, like the first lick of flame on tinder. He drew back just enough to savor the panic written across your face, smirk cutting cruel and sharp.
“That’s not my name, kitten.” His voice was velvet over steel, a mocking purr. “Try again.”
Before you could stammer out an apology, his hips snapped forward with brutal force, knocking the breath from your lungs. A strangled cry tore free as your nails raked down the ridges of his back. He did it again — harder, deeper, devastating — and any words you’d meant to form dissolved into desperate, broken sound.
“Mm?” He tilted his head, red eyes gleaming with a predator’s delight. “Can’t manage it?” His next thrust punched through your gasp. “I’ll help jog your memory.”
The reverent teasing of moments before was gone. What replaced it was ruthless, merciless, a rhythm designed to tear you apart piece by trembling piece.
“Must not be doing a good enough job,” he drawled between thrusts, voice roughened by his own restraint. His hand slid up to grip your jaw, forcing your gaze to lock with his. “If you’re thinking about some nobody while I’m inside you.”
The next drive of his hips struck that perfect spot so hard your back arched off the bed, a strangled scream breaking out of you. He chuckled darkly, savoring it, his mouth grazing your ear.
“If you wanted me to be rougher, kitten,” he whispered, low and taunting, “all you had to do was ask.”
The next slam of his hips made your cry break like glass, your body burning, unraveling under the punishing pace. His laugh rumbled against your throat as he kissed the delicate skin there, dark and triumphant.
He gave it to you without restraint — each thrust deep, deliberate, shaking the frame with the force of his need. Your cries tangled with his name, spilling helplessly as he pushed you closer to unraveling.
Then his pace shifted, slowing into a devastating grind, hips rolling with precision that had you gasping as he struck the places that made you lose yourself. His hands slid down to anchor your hips, tilting you just right so he could sink even deeper. Every thrust dragged his length against the sweetest spot, his pelvis pressing firmly against your clit, grinding again and again until your body trembled helplessly in his hold.
“Could he ever make you feel like this?” His teeth grazed your throat, his voice a growl as he pounded deeper, harder. “No? Didn’t think so.”
Your body trembled violently, pleasure coiling tight, unbearable. Every drag of him against your walls pulled you closer, until you were whimpering, begging without words, everything dissolving into raw desperation.
“Tell me,” he demanded, unrelenting. “Who’s the one you beg for, kitten?”
His mouth worshipped the curve of your neck, branding you with searing kisses. His tongue teased the swell of your breast, lips closing around a hardened peak. He alternated slow swirls and soft sucks before grazing you with a sharp nip — the sting sent a shiver racing up your spine, dragging you out of the haze he’d drowned you in.
“You—” the word tore from your throat, half sob, half prayer. “Sylus—please—”
“That’s better.” His grin was all teeth, wicked and triumphant, his hips slamming one final time, forcing you over the edge.
Your climax hit like fire, scorching through every nerve, white-hot and merciless. You screamed his name until it was the only sound in the room, until your body shook with aftershocks and your nails carved crescents into his skin.
Sylus held you there, ruined and trembling beneath him, his gaze devouring every broken, breathless sound that fell from your lips — utterly satisfied that the only name left in your mouth was his.
Sylus slowed only when you were boneless, collapsing underneath him with tears pricking your lashes. He kissed you then — slow, sweet, his tongue brushing tenderly against yours as though the last few minutes had never happened. His hand stroked your cheek, smoothing away the damp strands of hair stuck there.
“Mm,” he murmured, still smug but softer now. “That’s what I thought. Always me, sweetie. I won’t let you forget again.”
Your body was still trembling, muscles slack as Sylus stayed pressed against you, chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths, but you could feel the tension still running through him — different than his usual languid satisfaction. His lips brushed your temple, deceptively soft, but when he spoke his voice was lower, edged like a blade hidden under velvet.
“If someone else is more important than me…” His hand slid possessively down your side, fingertips sinking into your skin as though to brand you. “Then I’ll just replace them.”
Your head lifted slightly, dazed, uncertain, but his hand caught the back of your neck and gently — firmly — settled you back against the pillow.
“You’re mine, kitten,” he murmured, each word pressed into your ear like a vow, like a chain. “Everything that is mine will always be mine. I won’t tolerate losing anything.”
He kissed you again, slow, consuming, his thumb stroking lazily at your pulse like he could measure your devotion with every beat. When he pulled back, there was a faint smile tugging at his lips, but his eyes burned with something darker, deeper.
“So tell me,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face as though he hadn’t just shattered you. “Do you need me to remind you again who you belong to?”
caleb. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .
Your body arched beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress. Caleb had been taking his time tonight, his rhythm deliberate, steady, each thrust measured to pull broken sounds from your throat. His lips dragged across your collarbone, teeth scraping, tongue soothing after — worship and claim in one.
“Look at you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and unhurried. His hand smoothed down the length of your thigh, thumb rubbing into the tender crease where it wrapped around his waist. “So good for me… letting me have you like this.”
You moaned softly, nails catching on the slope of his shoulders. He groaned at the sting, hips angling deeper until you gasped and clung tighter. Caleb’s breath shuddered against your neck, the sound like gravel and velvet all at once.
“You feel that, baby?” His lips brushed your ear as his pace built, slow and filling, every stroke pushing him deeper. “How I stretch you out?”
Your body shook, a delicious tension building in every trembling muscle, throat catching on broken moans as your hips bucked involuntarily, grinding your clit into the coarse hair that traveled up his pelvis. Caleb’s tongue flicked over the hollow of your collarbone, dragging down to the curve of your breast before returning to nip at the tender skin of your neck, eliciting soft whines that only fueled his rhythm.
“You like that, don’t you, baby?” he whispered, voice rough, dark, teasing. “You like how I make you feel, so full, so desperate… all mine?”
The words tore another moan from you, and you barely realized what slipped past your lips, raw and breathless, carried on the edge of ecstasy.
“ Yes— mm… Zayne– ”
It was quiet, but in the silence between your bodies it was deafening.
Caleb’s entire body locked up. His hips stopped mid-thrust, buried deep inside you but utterly still. His breath hitched hard, like he’d been struck. For a heartbeat, the only sound was your own dazed panting and the faint, irregular thump of his pulse against your wrist where he held you down.
Slowly, his head lifted from the hollow of your throat. His violet eyes, wide at first, fixed on you like you were a stranger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. The hand on your thigh tightened, the drag of his thumb replaced by a grip that dug bruises into your skin.
“…What did you just say?” His voice came cracked, hollow — disbelief layered with hurt. His lips parted once, like he meant to ask again, but then he swallowed hard, nostrils flaring. “…Zayne?” The name sounded bitter, torn from his chest like poison.
You blinked up at him, stunned, words catching uselessly in your throat. His face — the hurt carved into it — broke something in your chest. But before you could stammer a protest, the expression twisted. The soft devastation shuttered out of his gaze, replaced by something sharper, darker.
“ No .” His tone dropped, rough, shaking with restraint that barely held. “No, you don’t get to call for him while I’m inside you.”
His hips snapped forward suddenly, the force ripping a gasp from your throat. His eyes darkened, watching the way your back arched, the way you clenched around him. He seized your wrists, slamming them above your head into the mattress, pinning you so tight you could feel the tremor in his grip.
“You’ll say my name.” Another brutal thrust. “You’ll say it until it’s the only thing in your mouth.”
You cried out, the sound tangled between pleasure and shock. His pace turned merciless, the steady worship gone — replaced with desperation edged in fury. He drove into you harder, faster, each thrust meant to brand you from the inside out.
“Who’s fucking you right now?” His voice rasped against your lips, his breath hot, uneven. His teeth caught your lower lip in a bruising bite, forcing a whimper from you. “Say it. Say my name.”
“C–Caleb—” you gasped, the syllables breaking against the sharp drag of his thrust.
His head dropped, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dampening his dark hair where it clung to his temple. His violet eyes bore into you, dark, haunted.
“Again.” His mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing the sound of your moan as he ground deep inside you. His voice broke against your lips, more desperate now. “Louder.”
“Caleb—!”
“That’s it,” he groaned, hips slamming forward with every syllable, like he could bury himself so deep the other name would never resurface. “Nobody else can fuck you like this. Nobody.” His hands squeezed your wrists, not just to hold you — to hold himself together. “Say it again. Until you can’t think of anyone else.”
You sobbed his name through the kisses, through the thrusts that left you trembling, and with each repetition the tension in his chest eased only slightly, replaced with something raw and vicious. His lips dragged across your jaw, your throat, biting, marking.
“You’re mine,” he whispered raggedly, words trembling against your skin. “Only mine. Don’t you dare—” His voice cracked, and he cut himself off, groaning into your neck as he drove harder, chasing his breaking point. “—don’t you dare make me doubt you like that again.”
Caleb’s hands moved with ruthless precision, one pressing firmly over your clit, the other gripping your hips, anchoring you to him as he drove into your slick, tight walls. Every movement pulled raw, breathless moans from your throat, each tremor of your body sending shivers up his spine.
Your cries filled the room, raw and ragged, and he pressed you closer, hands gripping your hips so tightly you could feel the bruising pressure as he fucked you through your release. Your body convulsed beneath him, clenching, shivering, and Caleb followed soon after, hips stuttering, pulse racing, letting go with a guttural moan as he spilled deep inside you. Your nails raked down his back, tugging, gripping, trying to hold onto him as he snapped his hips, hips jerking to bury himself as deep as he could.
“ Fuck … that’s it, baby, take it,” he panted, voice breaking, wet and desperate. “Don’t waste a fucking drop–”
He collapsed against you, chest heaving, foreheads pressed together, hands finally loosening their iron grip on your hips. Your bodies were slick with sweat, trembling, hearts racing in tandem, and he nuzzled into your neck, voice softening but still possessive. His breaths came rough, uneven, and beneath the raw edge of his jealousy you could hear the wound it left behind. His lips brushed yours once, trembling, before he whispered softer — a plea broken in half:
“…Don’t make me feel like I’m not enough for you.”
Then he kissed you hard, swallowing it down, needing you too much to let the ache breathe longer than a second.
The silence was heavy. He didn’t move to pull out, didn’t move at all beyond the rough drag of his breath against your skin.
For a moment you thought he was just catching himself, but then you felt it — the faint tremor in his body. Not from exhaustion. From restraint. From fear.
His hand slid back to your wrist, but instead of pinning them, his fingers laced with yours, clinging like a lifeline. He squeezed once, hard, almost desperate.
“…I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice raw, still trembling at the edges. He turned his head enough that his nose brushed your cheek, his lips hovering at your jaw. “I shouldn’t have— I just—” His breath caught, the words failing him.
You shifted to look at him, but he kept his face half-hidden against you, like he couldn’t bear to let you see what was written there.
“I can’t stand the thought of you wanting him.” The admission was ragged, torn from his chest. His hand pressed to your side, pulling you closer, as though the idea alone might take you away. “I can’t… I can’t lose you to him.”
You felt the stutter of his heartbeat against your ribs where his chest pressed to yours. The possessiveness was still there, but stripped bare of anger, it was nothing but ache.
When he finally lifted his gaze, violet eyes glimmering faintly in the dim light, the intensity had shifted — no longer fury, but something far more fragile. His thumb brushed along your jawline, tentative now, almost reverent.
“Tell me I’m enough for you,” he murmured. Not a demand this time. A plea.
“You’re enough, Caleb. Promise,”
You threaded your fingers into his hair, guiding him closer until his lips met yours again. The kiss wasn’t frantic now, but slow, aching, like he needed to believe it in every press of your mouth against his.
When he pulled back, he tucked his face into your neck, arms winding tightly around you, keeping you caged in his warmth. He didn’t care that you were both sticky and sweat-slick, tangled in sheets that needed washing. He just held you, every muscle taut like if he loosened even slightly, you might slip away.
“You don’t get it,” he whispered against your skin, his voice breaking. “You’re all I’ve got. I don’t care if the whole damn world thinks I’ve lost it — I won’t let you go. Ever.”
His lips pressed into the hollow of your throat, not bruising now, just lingering. The ache in his chest still hadn’t eased, but the way he clung to you, slow and desperate, was enough to remind you that beneath the jealousy and fury, Caleb’s devotion was absolute.
rafayel. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .
Rafayel had you spread beneath him like a canvas he was determined to leave marked, every curve, every shiver, every inch of skin his to study, to claim. His lips dragged lazily down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to sting before his tongue followed, soothing the fiery bite with deliberate, languid flicks. Each brush of his lips and teeth left a trail of wet heat, and you could feel yourself trembling under him, breath catching with every whisper of contact.
Every thrust of his hips was slow, deep, maddening — as if he wanted to savor the way your walls squeezed him, to watch you unravel piece by piece. He pressed you to the bed with the weight of his chest, shoulders and arms anchoring you just enough so you couldn’t pull away, hips snapping in perfect rhythm to make you gasp and tremble.
“You’re so sensitive tonight, cutie,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement, eyes glinting that impossible pink-blue under the dim light. His hand slid lower, thumb brushing over your clit in lazy, torturing circles that had you arching, whimpering, fingers clawing into his shoulders. “Can’t even keep still for me, hm? So needy… and all for me.”
Your back arched, body trembling uncontrollably as he pressed deeper, hips angling just enough to hit that maddening spot that made you shiver and cry out without control. Each motion was measured — teasing, claiming, watching your reactions like a predator enthralled by the flinch of his prey.
You moaned, clutching at his shoulders, and the words tumbled out without thought — ragged, high-pitched, not his name.
“ Feels so good— Zayne– ”
The moment fractured.
Rafayel went still, utterly still, his cock buried deep inside you but unmoving. His smirk vanished. For a heartbeat, he simply stared at you — and then his eyes changed. That impossible, searing oceanic blue swallowed the softer hues, glowing like the abyss itself was staring back. The air in the room shifted, heavy, electric, like the tide had risen around you without warning.
When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, velvet stretched over steel.
“…What did you just call me?”
You tried to breathe, tried to stammer, but his expression darkened further, jaw tightening, his gaze a furious light. His hand shot down, seizing your wrist and pinning it flat against his chest, right over the searing heat of his bond mark. The pulse beneath it throbbed against your palm, wild, undeniable.
“You chose me,” Rafayel whispered, but there was no softness in it — only something ancient, dangerous, inescapable. His hips pulled back and slammed forward in a brutal thrust that made you cry out. “You can’t take it back, cutie. Not now. Not ever.”
The mark beneath your palm flared hotter, almost burning. You writhed, trying to pull your hand away, but he forced it harder against him, his other hand gripping your hip tight enough to bruise as he pounded into you.
“This covenant between us…” His lips pressed harshly against yours, his kiss rough, consuming, biting. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged, eyes burning into you. “…Nobody will break it. Not even you.”
Another sharp thrust made your body jolt, the sound of your moans mingling with his groan. His glowing gaze never wavered, pinning you down as surely as his body did.
“Zayne’s name doesn’t belong in your mouth,” he hissed, kissing you again, deeper, tongue forcing its way past your lips. His hips ground mercilessly against yours, targeting your sweet spot with relentless precision. “Say mine instead. Say it until you forget his face.”
“Rafayel—” you gasped, clinging to him, the bond mark searing against your palm.
“That’s it.” His grin returned, but it was sharp, unsettling, his teeth flashing as his pace grew harsher, each thrust designed to obliterate. “More. Louder. Let him drown in the sound of it.”
You cried his name again and again, each repetition breaking on a sob, until the walls around you felt like they were vibrating with it. Rafayel groaned your name in return, the sound low and guttural, like it was pulled from the marrow of his bones.
His lips brushed your ear, whisper soft but chilling:
“I’ll make you forget everyone if I have to, cutie. Every memory, every name. Until it’s just me. I’ll be everything you need.”
His pace broke then, erratic, desperate, as though he were chasing the moment you’d finally belong to him without question. Each thrust hit deeper, harder, and you felt your walls clench around him, slick and trembling, every inch of him claiming you. His thumb pressed over your clit again in wild, teasing circles, coaxing helpless moans and whimpers from your lips as he groaned low in his throat.
“You’re close,” he murmured, breath hot against your cheek, glowing eyes locking with yours. “Give yourself to me, cutie. Let go for me.”
Your body shuddered, quivering, as your climax tore through you — loud, ragged, and overwhelming. At the same moment, Rafayel groaned, teeth nipping your shoulder, hand tightening around your wrist, his own release spilling deep inside you. Your foreheads pressed together, hearts hammering, eyes locked, and the glowing blue of his gaze burned with ownership and reverence as you came together, trembling in perfect sync.
He held you through it, hips stuttering as he rode out both of your highs, lips brushing against yours, teeth grazing lightly, murmuring your name over and over while you clung to him, sweat-slick and breathless. Every pulse, every tremor of your body pulled a raw, ragged sound from him, and the connection felt all-consuming, a simultaneous surrender that left you both trembling, utterly undone.
The moment you thought the intensity had passed, Rafayel’s grip on your wrist reminded you otherwise. He didn’t collapse or soften like most would — instead, he held your hand pinned against his chest, eyes still glowing faintly, a storm barely contained behind them. His jaw was tight, knuckles white where he clutched your hand over the bond mark, fingers pressing so that you could feel the pulse beneath your palm.
“You fantasized about him,” he whispered, voice low, dangerous, every syllable rolling like thunder. “…Zayne. Even in thought, you dared to call his name while I was inside you.”
You whimpered, trembling beneath him, trying to explain, but he silenced you with the brush of his lips against your temple, a soft touch that was anything but gentle.
“You’re mine,” he growled, tone sharp, unwavering. “Even if you don’t remember, even if your thoughts wander, it doesn’t matter. You devoted yourself to me. To me.”
He pressed his forehead to yours again, still holding your hand over the bond mark as if anchoring both of you to the truth of it. The pulse beneath your fingers throbbed in sync with the beat of your own heart, a physical reminder of the covenant he’d claimed.
“I won’t let you forget,” he murmured, eyes flashing that impossible blue. “You will worship me in time. Every touch, every moan, every thought — mine. You belong to me, cutie. And I’ll make sure you never forget again.”
His other hand traced down your spine, pressing you closer, rough in the way that made it impossible to pull away. The anger in him hadn’t faded; it lingered, palpable, a heat that pressed against your skin, warning you of the dark devotion underneath. And yet, despite the fury, there was that almost imperceptible tremor in his shoulders, the whisper of fear that if he didn’t claim you, someone — or something in your mind — might steal you from him.
“You can try to think of anyone else,” he said, his voice low, velvet-dark, eyes never leaving yours. “But it won’t last. Not against me. Not against what we share.”
He leaned down, lips brushing the top of your head, a possessive press rather than a kiss. “I’m everything you need, cutie. I’ll make sure of it. Every time you close your eyes, every breath you take—it’ll be me.”