Needle & Sword

Needle & Sword

Summary: It’s always been the Seamtress and her cat. That is until Geralt, and his faithful mare Roach, walk through the village one Summer’s day on the edge of Autumn. Which is mightier, the Needle or the Sword?

Pairing: Geralt x OFC Márta (@wolvesandhoundshowltogether ) (2nd Person POV descriptions are, I hope, left vague enough that it could be read as reader despite the name use)

Words: ~7K

Warnings: Mild pining, oral sex (male and female receiving), penetrative sex, passing references and descriptions of wounds and battles, a dick scar (yup!), references to prey/predator vibes, Geralt being a little bit of switch maybe? And copious amounts of eye contact. Also a cat being a cat.

A/N: It’s been a while since I posted anything I know! I kind of lost my motivation to write for a while with work stress and life stress. On top of that, this was just not flowing right for ages and then when I did get inspo, I was too tired from moving house! This was originally a birthday present for the lovely Márta, (so it’s uh been over a year since I had this idea 😬) So fingers crossed it’s actually good because I cannot stare at it any longer… Enjoy!

All pictures taken from either googling or from the Canva database where the header image was made by me!

Masterlist

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The dawning sun shone weakly through the soft clouds, the warmth just noticeable on your skin. Birds sung in the distant treetops and a cockerel crowed gently as you approached the village. The smell of autumn was faint in the air, the edge of a crisp, slightly cooler breeze fluttering around your ankles. You walked down the gentle slope through the centre, narrowly avoiding a deep divot in the soft mud path that directed your journey. You knew there would be a couple more weeks before the weather turned so didn’t hurry to the marketplace just yet. Instead, you beckoned to the white and ginger feline walking alongside you. Shuffling your basket firmly into the crook of your arm, you tapped your shoulder and up Füge went, settling around your neck to stare at passers by, few though they were at this hour.

A few moments later, you finally stepped into the nearby inn, pushing the loud rickety door open with a grimace. You greeted the innkeeper with a smile and a wave as she spoke to a weary traveller. Not wanting to disturb, you settled near the low fire quietly, rubbing your arms to ward off the slight chill. Füge jumped off your shoulder into your lap to be closer to the fire, curling up into a shape reminiscent of a pastry you were hoping to buy later.

For a moment you stared into the crackling flames, lost in thoughts of your preparations for autumn. You’d just started to think about the darning waiting for you at home when you were interrupted from your thoughts by a deep voice that rumbled through your chest like distant thunder.

“Is this seat taken?”

You look up to see a broad man with snow-white hair, like he’d just stepped out of the depths of a winter storm. His eyes on the other hand were a honey tone that spoke of those hours of summer evenings spent in the wheat fields beyond the village. His clothing was a deep midnight black and a little torn in places but neat darns threaded through the clearly well-looked after outfit. His shirt pulled tight around his biceps as his hand clasped the back of the chair and if you thought too hard about the leather trousers hiding in the shadow behind the seat you might just throw yourself into the fire. You cleared your throat, gesturing him into the seat.

”Help yourself. I’m-” You held one hand out to the stranger while the other pet Füge as she purred.

“Oh I know who you are, Seamstress.” He replied easily, “Your cat is hard to miss.”

“She’s a personality that’s for sure!” You chuckled, scratching under the kitty’s chin.

“Geralt of Rivia.” He continued, extending his hand to meet yours. His hand was warm, his grip firm as he regarded you with interest. You swallowed.

“Pleasure to meet the famous White Wolf in person.” You added and smiled after a moment, letting go and turning to the basket by your feet. You pulled out your latest piece of work, quietly threading a crimson thread through a cornflower blue doublet, hoping to distract yourself from your new fireside companion.

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You’d sat in friendly silence for an hour or so while you worked in the empty inn. Geralt had even taken out one of his swords to polish it and it had taken an inhuman amount of focus to ignore the vision of the silver sword balanced across his thighs for as long as you had. But then one fateful moment he leant forward and the fire highlighted the raft of dark chest hair that disappeared past those tiny buttons and…

“Sweet Melitele!” You broke the silence with a quiet curse, sucking your finger to ease the pricking wound and the embarrassment you felt.

Geralt looked up from his task and grunted his condolences for the pain, before returning to his sword. You internally chided yourself for making such a simple mistake. But resolutely focused back on your work, you barely noticed Geralt leave until he returned a short while later, bringing the smell of baked goods with him. You looked up to find him holding out a crescent-shaped pastry. Your stomach flipped a little at the sight, just out of hunger, nothing else of course.

“Mm?” You couldn’t trust yourself to form words just yet.

“Ida told me it was your birthday.” He replied with a non-commital grunt.

Your head snapped to the side to look over at Ida who was nonchalantly wiping down the counter, trying not to catch your eye, a knowing smile hovering at her mouth. You turned back to Geralt, a similar grunt echoing his.

Meanwhile Geralt returned to his place by the fire, gently lifting off Füge who had stolen his seat in the intervening time. Your heart definitely did not skip a beat at his gentle grip on the mischievous feline.

“Well you didn’t have to.” You groused, clearing your throat, but took the package carefully from his hand. “At least share this with me. No arguments. It’s my birthday after all.” You smirked, pulling the pastry in half and offering the other half to him. Silence fell again as you both ate the treat, savouring the taste of the buttery pastry on your tongue. You glanced over at the mysterious witcher to find Geralt wrapping a new leather band around the hilt of his sword, concentration etched into his features as the muscles twitched in his bare forearms. When did he roll up his sleeves!?

He started to untuck his shirt, showing a tantalising glimpse of muscles and some gnarled scars across his abdomen, when he paused. He let his shirt go and turned to rummage in the saddle bags by his feet, tipping out shirts and wrapped bundles in the process. You stared for a moment too long, the image of muscles rippling against the taut black material seared into your mind; a question bubbling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Did you dye all your shirts Geralt? I’ve never seen material so black!”

“No.” Geralt busied himself with his dagger this time, wiping crusty black gunk off the blade with the hem of his now untucked shirt. “Monster Blood.”

“Oh? What monster?” You asked, a little distracted by the continued appearance of skin.

“Many.” His tone was suddenly cold and gruff. “Do not think that I’ll kill them for you to make you some dye Seamstress.”

“No, no. I’d never ask you for such a thing sir.” You hurried to reassure him, a cold chill descending between you, despite the fire.

He simply grunted, continuing to clean his knife. On an impulse, you leant across to capture his hand in yours and still his blade.

“I’ve heard the tales, I know you only kill when necessary.” You squeezed his hand. “Trust that I will not add to that burden.”

He looked up at your touch and any other thoughts you might have had, fell away like autumn leaves. The burnt amber of his eyes bored into yours for a moment longer and you moved closer, catching the scent of cloves and hay before the door to the inn burst open.

You both leapt back in haste. Geralt’s stern features were already focused on the door, automatically flipping the dagger in his hand, ready for anything. You meanwhile, had dropped your sewing onto the floor in surprise and now stood hurriedly, stuffing things in your basket. The raucous noise of people coming into the inn alerting you to the time that had passed in his company.

“Come find me later.” You blurted out, finally gathering up your basket, before clicking your tongue for Füge to follow you. Geralt watched you and the orange bottlebrush tail leave and turned back to the fire with a sigh, picking up his sword to resume cleaning it.

On the other side of the door, out of sight of the morning crowd, you leant against a nearby wall. A shaky breath wheezed from your lungs and your skin tingled where his hands had touched yours. You startled when Füge jumped up, her soft cheek rubbing against yours as she curled around your shoulders with a quiet chirp. You reached up to absentmindedly scratch at her ear.

“Well I’m awake now, that’s for sure. Let’s get to the market.”

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You stood, hands on your hips as you surveyed the small set up in the grass at your feet on the bustling village green. It would do for now but you really could do with a little table. Füge sat in the basket at your side, leisurely licking her paw as she regarded the passers by with the kind of superiority only a cat could possess.

Examples of little swatches of repairs and darns were spread across the russet coloured cloth from the moth eaten, to snags and rips, there was little you couldn’t repair or embellish. You’d even managed to lovingly restore a deep blue horse saddle blanket that had been discarded from a Temerian patrol near your small cottage. You smiled at the tiny dandelions you’d painstakingly sewn around the edge to cover the temerian symbols, it was one of your favourite projects, a forgotten flower for a forgotten garment. You sat down in the grass, the sun lightly warming your skin and set about unpicking the neck of the doublet, repairing the terrible job you’d done this morning in his company.

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After finishing his sword repairs, Geralt had journeyed out to the stables to check on Roach, spending an hour or two washing and brushing the faithful mare until she was almost dozing off in his arms. He laid the clean but almost threadbare horse blanket over the door of the stall as he left, hoping it would be dry enough by the end of the day to saddle Roach back up again.

The sun barely at its peak, Geralt found himself at a loss. He’d not had so much free time in a village for a while. No-one here seemed to mind his presence and simply carried on as if he was any other traveller passing through.

He passed by the bakery on his left, nodding lightly, awkwardly, as the baker waved at the witcher. He’d only meant to stop to gather some basic bread to restore his pack, but they’d been so kind, pressing a few other treats into his hands at the ungodly hour he’d arrived in the village. He was only saved further awkward refusals by spotting the inn owner unlocking the front door and ducked out of the quaint building and hurried across the path to greet her and buy board. A few hours rest was all he had needed and he'd just come back down to inquire with Ida about Witcher contracts when you’d arrived.

You hadn’t seemed like a distant traveller but it was clear you didn’t stay near the village from the large basket on your arm and the well-worn boots on your feet. When Ida had caught Geralt staring, she’d cleared her throat and he turned back a little embarrassed. Ida had chuckled then and explained that you and her were friends and that you repaired the bedding for the inn on a regular basis. It was your birthday today he had learned and when you’d not recoiled in horror but instead smiled at him, he’d been seized with the urge to bring you a gift. Jaskier had always told him that a gift was rarely unwelcome and a perfect way to ingratiate yourself. He had of course heard the grumbling of your stomach and the bakery was only too kind as to oblige with your favourite pastry.

Geralt shook his head to clear his mind of this morning, hearing the noise of market stalls now in full swing before the village green came into view around the corner. He saw you almost instantly. The way your deep red skirt lay out around you in the grass and the easy way you conversed with others at nearby stalls made something in his chest expand a little. Geralt turned away and looked towards the sun for a moment until the feeling passed.

But no matter the reluctance, his feet seemed to follow a path directly to you within moments. He almost made to turn away but you caught sight of his swords in the sunshine out of the corner of your eye and called to him.

“Hello Wolf. Taking in the sights?” You smiled, hand shading your eyes as you looked up at him.

“Something like that.” He murmured, before clearing his throat. “Any notices posted in the village?”

“Maybe. I’ve not checked myself today but they’re usually outside the alderman’s house.”

“Thanks.” Geralt replied, a little absentmindedly as your refurbished blanket caught his eye.

“You like it?” You held it up for a closer look and he nodded, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

“I have a friend who’d find it amusing to find this particular flower on my horse.”

Your heart skipped a very cliche beat as his amused countenance met yours.

“Well then you must take it. It would not be kind to prevent such a wonderful smile from lighting up your friend’s face too.” You felt your cheeks heat as the compliment left your mouth.

“I’m afraid it is too fine of a garment for Witcher’s work. Beautiful though it is.” He bowed his head a little, though his eyes remained on yours for a moment. “Maybe another time.”

Before you could gather up the words to protest, he was gone into the crowds, his sword glinting briefly in the heavy sun. You sighed, flopping back onto the grass. Today was going to be a long day if the disappointment curdling in your stomach was anything to go by.

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Geralt moved away at pace, finger and thumb rubbing nervously together as he focused on the feel of his sword calluses smoothing over one another. He would be gone soon and he could put even more distance between himself and you, the woman that made his chest feel tight and heart thud like it did before he took one of the many potions in the holster strapped to his thigh.

He paused as the winding path gave way to a few more houses, one of which had boards nailed to the fence as a rudimentary notice board. There were a few dull beige scraps of paper fixed to the board, curling and faded. Geralt adjusted his swords and stepped aside the soft mud of drying cart tracks to the other side of the path and approached the house.

On closer inspection the notes were mostly minor grievances and lost items, the ink running down the pages or turned dull grey from exposure to the sun. Geralt almost turned away before spotting a neatly scrawled but muddy note in spiky black ink jammed in between the boards. Geralt pulled the dirty piece of parchment from the town board and skimmed the contents. A drowner. Simple enough. He stepped past the board and up the short path to the house beyond. Geralt knocked firmly on the alderman’s door and stepped aside as the wooden door creaked open moments later.

A grizzled old man in a neat and well cared for tunic peeked out into the midday sun with a wrinkly hand shading his eyes. His eyes travelled up the broad frame of the witcher, a curt nod of acknowledgement as the man’s eyes alighted upon the dull grey of the witcher medallion around Geralt’s neck.

“Ah yes, Ida told me a Witcher was in town. Come, let's discuss the terms.”

Geralt ducked under the doorframe and followed the man into the house.

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The sun was setting when you finally arrived home, the golden early evening sun searing into your eyes as you gazed across the distant paddocks for a moment. Füge was happily snoozing among your purchases in the basket at your hip but perked up at the sound of the latch. She didn’t move when you put the basket down inside, only peeped at you from over the edge of the wicker, eyes getting a little wider in the fading light.

You leant down to light the fire, stretching as the warmth filled the room. Moving towards the larder, you pulled out some dried fish for the cat and mashed it into a paste with some melted fat from last night's meal. Füge hopped out the basket with a soft meow and circled around your legs as you finished up your task. You chuckled as she tried to get to her dinner with some enthusiasm only to bump into your boot as she stepped directly in your path.

“So much mischief in a little package!” You exclaimed sweetly, as you placed her food down, much to the cat’s excitement.

"If only it was this easy to tell what he wanted." You sighed, thinking of the white haired Witcher and hoping that today's contract was an easy one for the wolf.

You were just tidying away the remains when you heard a soft knock. Your heart leapt into your chest as you stepped towards the door, just knowing in your gut that it was him on the other side of the door and that he'd definitely just heard you speaking to your cat. Stopping briefly, you took a deep breath, adjusted your dress and opened the door.

“Good evening Seamstress.”

Geralt filled the doorframe, the setting sun casting a deep shadow over his face but not enough that you missed the slight smile around the edges of his mouth. You almost forgot to be embarrassed and simply stared a moment at the man. The white was almost gone from his hair at this hour, the sun's rays settling between hair strands to set his whole head on fire with bold strokes of ochre and umber. It took a moment for you to gather your thoughts into an actual sentence.

“Uh hello. Please… call me Márta. Come in dear Witcher.”

Geralt stepped into your home, ducking a little under the frame.

“If I am to call you Márta, then you must call me Geralt. I insist.”

“Can I offer you a seat by my fire then… Geralt?” You asked with a cheeky smile, warming to the man’s presence again quickly.

He nodded and shrugged the swords off his back, placing them carefully by the door and rummaging in his pack. He clearly found what he was looking for as he straightened up and turned back towards you, a leather pouch clenched in his fist.

The silence was palpable, standing a few steps away from each other it seemed as if the world had stopped for a brief moment. And then sped up all at once.

“I-“

“Thank-“

You both began to speak at the same time. Geralt sighed and you smiled, gesturing for him to go ahead.

“Thank you. Roach looks beautiful.”

“She’s a sweet girl and deserves nice things.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to.”

“But I did Geralt. You needed one and I had one. I saw the state of the last saddle blanket.” You raised your eyebrow, eyeing the leather pouch. “I won’t accept coins for it either.”

“What will you accept as payment then Seamstress?” Geralt asked softly, tucking away the coin purse. Your mind definitely went to unsavoury thoughts about the gentle beast standing in your home. Coughing lightly, you were about to quip about how seeing the pair of them happy was enough, when you saw the darns in Geralt's shirt once more.

“Let me work on your shirt.” You blurted out, your cheeks heating rapidly at your boldness.

Now it was Geralt’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“I- The colour fascinates me and I want to know what it’s like to craft with.” You explained in a rush, to fill the silence. His silence was telling and you looked away, saddened that you'd managed to upset the man once more.

You saw his sturdy looking black leather boots step into your peripheral vision, rough fingers suddenly gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. You could scarcely breathe as the scent of cloves and hay washed over you once more. His eyes searched yours intently and you were sure he could hear your heart beating harshly against your ribcage.

“Very well” Geralt murmured after a moment, seemingly finding nothing amiss, leaving the ghost of his touch against your cheek and some less than innocent feelings in his wake.

Geralt turned to his pack and dug out another couple of dark shirts, both worse for wear than the one currently stretched tight across his torso.

You took the shirts from him and gasped at the unusual softness, completely different to the texture you had expected from a man who lives from inn to inn - if he’s lucky. Gesturing for Geralt to sit beside you, you took a seat closer to the firelight to see more clearly, the low sun having cast large shadows across your home. Both shirts were full of neat darns and rips, grey and deepest black shades splattered across it. One was fit for nothing better than rags or bandages, Geralt nodded at your running commentary. But the second was reparable… just. Even despite the charred rip across one shoulder.

“Uh..” You hesitated a little, “For damage this severe, you’d uhh… Need to wear it. Makes it easier to make adjustments.”

Your cheeks felt hot again and you looked down at your lap where Füge had arrived and was kneading away at your skirts. If Geralt found the request odd, he didn’t make any suggestions otherwise and you felt his weight rise from the furs beside you. Eyes elsewhere, you missed the slight smirk that appeared on his lips for a fleeting moment. When his voice filled the warm silence a moment later, you could have sworn it was deeper and richer than before.

“Of course.”

It absolutely did not make you clench your thighs together to relieve the building tension. Not at all.

You heard rustling and resolutely looked at your fingers threading through Füge’s fur, not looking at the bare expanse of skin in the corner of your eye. A moment later he was covered once more; well, as covered as someone wearing a ripped shirt could be. You placed Füge on the floor gently and stood, brushing the fur off of your lap. Stepping closer to Geralt, you cleared your throat hesitantly and reached out with slightly shaking hands.

You held the shirt hem gently in one hand, concentrating on the feel of the fabric on your skin and not on the heat radiating from the man wearing it. You felt the texture of every single thread, the slip of the monster blood and slime between the fibres and the permanence of the stains. You felt every true strike of the sword and every missed swing as you held the fabric tighter.

Your other fingers traced the charred fabric along the thick muscles of the Witcher’s shoulder and such was your focus you missed the vibration of his medallion and the sharp inhale as your skin touched his again. Geralt remained still, only the twitch of his finger against his thigh showed that you had any further effect on him.

Under your touch, the fabric began to knit itself together, the char of the burnt fibres falling away like ash to the floor between the pair of you. Buttons pulled back into the fabric, dents in the metal fastenings popped back into place with a faint ping. The fabric began to pale a little and you wobbled, a little unsteady on your feet. This was a very different sensation to the fabric dyes that felt like meadows, mud and animals that you normally encountered. Here it was dark and intense, almost living, creeping into your mind and-

Geralt’s hands grabbed your hip as you swayed, holding you upright with gentle force. His bronze tinted eyes were the last thing you saw before your own slid shut to focus on the task. The tingling started at your fingertips, working its way up your forearms and through your limbs until your whole body sang with the vibrations.

A deep exhale and you pushed with your mind, the colour spreading back out from your fingers like ink across a ledger, writing of his adventures in every splotch of colour.

Geralt had never encountered magic like this. Every hair on his body stood to attention, the magic thrumming along his skin as if he’d dipped into the coolness of a shallow pond on a summer’s day. His focus narrowed down to the vibrations of the wolf medallion nestled against his chest and tension of you clutching his shirt. Your knuckle brushed the edges of gnarled abdomen scar unbeknownst to you and Geralt almost leapt out of your grip, the electric sensation almost overwhelming. He straightened his back quickly, gritted his teeth and resolved not to move much, lest he become unsteady on his feet too.

Devoid of vision, you felt the heat of his skin through the fabric, running only slightly warmer than your average human but magic crackled underneath his skin like a second heat that felt like it could scorch your fingertips. The fire at your back felt intense, droplets of sweat rolling down between your breasts as you held on for just a moment longer. You felt the last stitches fall into place as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed you and you lost your grip on him.

Barely coherent for a moment, Geralt caught you before you hit the floor. You opened your eyes to find Geralt leaning over you, his eyes as orange as the flames dancing in your periphery. The dizziness faded quickly, but the crackling, fizzing undercurrent of magic was still singing in your veins. But you’d never been tempted to act upon this residue of magic, not until this unusual man had come into your life.

You reached out to feel the dark grey stubble, rough against your fingertips. The grounding sensation brought you back to your senses a little more even as his hand wrapped around yours, thumb rubbing across your palm as he gently pushed your hand away.

He looked hauntingly beautiful like this, strands of light hair casting shadows across his chiselled face. His pupils were widened with curiosity and something else that you couldn’t quite place until you shifted your leg, a secret smile gracing your lips for a moment.

“If you are not so interested dear Witcher, then by all means leave with my well wishes.” You paused for a moment, looking down between the pair of you. “But something pressed against my thigh would suggest otherwise.”

Geralt growled at the jest, teeth flashing in the cosy darkness of your home. It should have at least made you second guess yourself but the frisson of magic still strong within you had other thoughts. Instead you grinned, grabbing the wolf medallion dangling over you to tug the man down for a kiss.

Geralt’s lips were remarkably soft for the weather his body had to endure and his touch so gentle despite the hardness of his life that you’d felt deep in the fibres of his shirt. Your head spun with the languid kisses he served as his hard body pressed you into the stone floor, all pretence forgotten. Moments passed and you broke for breath, tilting your head back, lungs heaving. The beast of a man took this as an invitation of submission, of need, and grazed his teeth along the slender planes of your throat before biting down at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You gasped, the bright sensation of pain battling for dominance with the lust and magic coursing through you.

His strength was plain in the way he easily rolled you above him moments later, hands moving to your hips to hold you against him tightly. He rocked his pelvis upwards, making you feel every inch of his interest. It must have shown on your face as a raised eyebrow and a gentle sneer quickly followed, exposing the points of his teeth again in a way that ripped the last vestige of patience from your grasp.

You scrabbled at his shirt, pushing it away from his skin and replacing it with your hands for a moment. Your fingertips caressed the scars and gouges, feeling the stitches and repairs of the surface of his skin, knowing that each one must have caused him pain and cost him more with every potion he consumed. The taut muscles layered underneath seemed strong but exposed as they vibrated underneath your touch. Seized by the need to feel him further, you bent your head to place your lips along a pink scar with translucent grey flecks that arrowed downwards, disappearing below the buttons of those leather trousers.

As your kisses reached the waistline where the scar was removed from your sight, his hand seized the nape of your neck, pulling you up into a sudden, almost violent kiss. Your lips clashed with his teeth in a meeting of passion as he sat up, lips still glued to yours as you remained in his lap, legs wrapping around his back.

You tugged at the hem of his shirt again, it getting stuck between the pair of you to some quiet chuckles against your lips. Your heart melted then, to hear joy out of this worn down man’s throat and you struggled harder but with laughter, trying your best to divest him of his clothes, to make him feel that joy again and again.

Eventually you succeeded, the newly mended material seeming to crackle a little as you eased it over his head. Geralt returned the favour quickly, his large hands making short work of your dress, the fabric falling away from your shoulders with only a whisper and only a couple of ripped stitches.

Quickly, his mouth followed the path of his hands, seeking more desperate contact, before coming to rest over a nipple, breath ghosting on the peak. You heard him swear under his breath as it pebbled under his attention before all sense of words were lost and your thoughts melted into the sensation of his lips against your sensitive flesh.

Your hips moved of their own accord, seeking the delicious friction of Geralt’s hardness against the dewy wetness that had long since formed between your thighs. You were so close to succeeding too, lips moving across his bare skin, his scars and his lips in quick succession. Your hands delved between you both to undo one of the last barriers, the laces of his trousers, when Geralt changed his mind.

His hand moved to hold you tighter against him with the strength of a Witcher, leaving no room for your hips to continue their dance and trapping your hands in an illicit crush. You could only meekly wiggle your fingers against the leather. He growled deeply against your bare shoulder then and you felt like prey and predator all at once. Your heart raced like a rabbit caught in a hunt but the urge to bite and claim in return came swiftly behind it until all you could think was need need need.

Want.

But what Geralt wanted, he got. His lips resumed their painstaking pace across the bare skin of your chest, being sure to leave the telltale indents of pleasure his teeth make along the way. All you could do was take the blossoming heat as it washed over you. Only when your chest was painted in a few marks and you were nothing but a puddle of want, was he satisfied. But he merely loosened his grip to seat you on the bench you’d vacated a lifetime ago.

You felt the soft furs against your bare skin and warm hands pushing your thighs back, the fire heating your damp petals enough to make you squirm against the hold. And for a moment he held you there exposed to his gaze, to the warmth. But it was nothing compared to the feeling of his feverish tongue pressing between your folds suddenly, the stubble of his chin rubbing against sensitive flesh and tiny pinpricks of his teeth occasionally making their presence known against your tingling skin.

As with everything you’d seen from this friendly but stoic witcher so far, Geralt took on the task with clear intent and purpose. He seemed to know your every thought before it even struck you. Every stroke of his tongue was intentional, reading the pulse of your core and the scent of your arousal as the markers of your steady, inevitable path to bliss. You were no stranger to pleasure but this? This was like every moment of lustful magic you’d ever experienced, rolled into one.

You shuddered as he stopped for breath, the warm air of his laboured breath gusting over your glistening pussy. But the air that he languidly shared with your body he stole from your lungs once more as he dove back down and resumed his charge of your undoing. A hand, tanned darker by the sun and hard labour, reached up to grasp at your breast. The other stroked deftly at your entrance with the gentleness of a man that knows how to calm even the most skittish of beasts. Your back arched as his strong fingers beckoned you from within your walls.

"F- fuuuck!"

Rolling with sensation, your hands delved in among the silver threads of the Witcher’s head. This particularly strong wave of pleasure rewarded him with a sharp tug to his hair. He growled into the depths of your pussy without hesitation, his eyes flicking up to capture yours for only a moment. But that was enough for you to tumble over the edge into the abyss of pleasure, mouth agape but no words able to leave.

Geralt continued to taste your pleasure as your high abated, standing once he was satisfied and unashamedly wiping his mouth and chin on the back of his hand without breaking your gaze. You shivered a little as Geralt moved from between your thighs, cooler air moving in where the bulk of the Witcher had vacated. He stood in front of the fire once more, his silhouette proving no less tempting in profile.

You bit your lip as Geralt finally divested himself of those trousers, the ones that would surely haunt your dreams from now on. His cock sprang free, deep throbbing red with a thin white scar running from the base to about half way up. As your mouth watered at the idea of your tongue running along those mysterious ridges and wondering what exactly had been there before you to cause such a scar, his calloused thumb swept across the pink head smearing the pre-come across his skin. You could hear the audible sigh of relief from where you lay, torturously close. He turned back towards you and the look in his eyes was enough to have you panting once more. Geralt’s pupils were blown so wide, only a thin golden ring remained and his veins stood out in relief against his forearms, his hand idly stroking along his length.

You slid off the bench to kneel in front of the man, hands reaching out to touch the broad man in desperation. You felt the wiry soft hair of his thighs under your fingertips as you swept over his skin to your target. Up close he was thicker than you expected and felt like soft velvet as you wrapped your hand around his length, eagerly knocking his hand away in the process. He hissed as your tongue darted out to taste a drop of the pearly liquid that proved his interest in your form and your pleasure.

The salty taste of the Witcher’s essence on your tongue made your mouth water and you eagerly settled between his thighs to investigate further. His hands grasped for you but you plunged your mouth down his length, leaving Geralt to swear this time.

“Fuck. Márta!” He all but choked out as your tongue brushed along the underside of his length.

You opened your mouth wider, hands moving to brace yourself against his thighs, bobbing your head faster along his length. Geralt’s hand reached under your chin and lightly against your throat, forcing your eyes to meet his.

You pulled your mouth away from his length to take a breath, a cheeky grin lighting your features as Geralt’s thighs trembled under your hands. You sat back on your heels, tugging the lust-drunk witcher down to your level by your grasp on his length. He crumpled to his knees in front of you, punch drunk on lust. The Witcher was helpless but to follow your lead until he hovered over you, arm braced on the floor by your shoulder. His eyes sought yours to ask that age old unspoken question.

That unreserved yes lingered on the tip of your tongue but you merely nodded as words seemed impossible. You guided him between your thighs, squeezing his length in a moment of cheeky levity. He answered with his own light smile, before brushing your cheek with his thumb.

A moan and a few choice swears left your throat as he breached that final barrier between you. Slowly but surely, you felt the true measure of the witcher with every inch he pressed closer, deeper until you were surrounded by him. Just when you thought he had bottomed out, he shifted, changing the angle of his excruciatingly slow thrust. He pulled away equally slowly and you shivered as he left you empty for a moment that felt like an age. You opened your mouth, a frown etching into your forehead, when Geralt lent forward quickly, spearing you open once more in one deep thrust.

Air left your chest in a rush, your lungs wheezing with the effort of trying to inhale against the feeling of fullness, of him taking up all the space. The sound of skin on skin was loud against the crackling of the fire as his thighs crashed into yours again, splitting your legs impossibly wider, as if he still couldn’t get close enough to you.

His chest pressed against yours, pushing you into the floor just a little harder than before. Surrounded and all consumed by the witcher, you felt the heat build slowly, spreading like syrupy, thick lines of lust along your limbs with every stroke of his length inside you.

His mouth busy leaving marks on your neck too, the dual sensations overwhelming and he fucking knew it. He stoked the embers of your fire with precision and dedication until your entire body was burning but holding you just on the edge of pleasure. You felt every unique ridge of his cock, your core clenching each time his pelvis pressed against yours but it wasn’t enough. Your kiss bruised lips spread into a secret smile that Geralt couldn’t see as you curled your wrist around in a circle, seizing an opportunity to flip the pair of you until you were on top, spread across his thighs and impaled deeply by the witcher. Magic crackled in the small space between you, Geralt's expression hardening a little, until you rocked your hips just so and it faded into an all encompassing lust. Your nails dug into the fur on his chest as you rose and rapidly sunk back down onto his punishing girth, chasing the long held back high. Geralt met you thrust for thrust, his hands gripping your hips in a way you were positive would leave muscle aches for days.

You leant forward, and mirroring Geralt’s actions from earlier; sought out the sensitive skin of the white wolf’s neck with your teeth. The growl that rolled from his chest at the sensation was almost enough to make you come for the second time that night. But not yet, you needed to see the stoic come unravelled like the poor stitching he had inspired this morning.

Geralt’s thrusts became more uncoordinated and sloppy until he ceded control to you entirely. His hands became soft and supportive then, encouraging you to take what you needed from him as you rolled your hips over and over again. You sat up to better hit that spot and locked eyes with Geralt once more. Something about the way he stared into your eyes was always going to be your undoing as, once again, you fell over the edge into pleasure, calling his name. Geralt followed shortly after, his arms pulling you close enough to kiss you earnestly and deeply as he emptied himself into your warmth.

⚔️🗡⚔️🗡

The moon was bright tonight, the light casting a surreal glow over the open fields nearby. The soft whickering to your right appeared to agree with you. You held an apple out to the horse waiting patiently in the small pasture outside your cottage.

"Here you go Roach. Sweet apples for a sweet horse."

You felt Roach’s soft lips brush against your palm as she took the fruit. Only the kindest of men would have such a gentle horse.

You wrapped the blanket around your bare shoulders a little tighter as you stroked Roach’s neck. A few moments passed, nothing but the quiet crunching of Roach to disturb the peaceful night.

“She likes you.” Geralt’s deep voice wafted out from the doorway a little while later. “But I think she’s been spoiled enough today. Come back inside.”

You laughed and turned back towards the bare chested man waiting for you. He leant just inside the door, the moonlight rippling across the planes of his muscled torso, dipping into scars you kissed only hours ago. You clenched at the mere thought.

“And I suppose you think that’s going to convince me?” You retorted, stepping towards Geralt.

“Mmm. Maybe not.” He took a step forward too, meeting you on the doorstep of the cottage. “But this might…”

No further warning was spared as he lifted you into his arms, your hands clutching at the shifting blanket. He strode back into the cottage, kicking the door shut behind him to make sure you were thoroughly convinced. He’d go all night if he had to.

Talk about worth the wait 😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥😥 JUST ABSOLUTELY AMAZING RABBIT 💙💙💯💯💯 cant even begin to put into words how awesome this is.

Even If You Don't Mean It - Part Three

Summary: Your reunion with Sy is just as passionate you hoped it would be, but things start to become strained when you suspect he isn't being honest with you.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader

Word Count: Approx. 10.5k

Warnings:

Series Warnings:

Smut including oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, dirty talking, implied masturbation (m and f), showering together, slight praise kink, anal play (f receiving), mentions of PTSD, descriptions of PTSD, mentions of war, angst, fluff.

Part Three Warnings:

Smut including fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, intimate touching, showering together, dirty talk, slight praise kink, discussion of PTSD, insomnia, illusions to war, angst, fluff.

Authors Note:

Thanks once again to my wonderful friends and beta readers @amberangel112 and @henryobsessed . Your constant support and friendship means the world to me.

A massive thank you to @radiantheartbeat for editing you have truely lifted my writing and inspired me to be better. It has meant the world to me and I have enjoyed getting to know you through the process as well. Everyone, if you want some more great Henry content, please check out her blog here . You won’t be disappointed.

Divider made by me.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part 2 Part 4 (Coming Soon)

Sighing contentedly, you put your hand on his still panting chest and run your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. It curls slightly around your fingers, and you like the way your feminine hand looks against his masculine chest. Slowly, his breathing evens out and he takes long, deep breaths.

“I could stay like this all day,” Sy says, wistfully, and you hum to let him know you agree, “But, I should take a shower.”

“I don’t mind if you’re a little sweaty,” You kiss the still humid skin on his neck to prove it, “Your cuddles are nice.”

Sy’s head is tucked deep into your neck, his breath is hot and harsh against your cooling skin. He’s mostly still, but occasionally his lips sweep over your skin so lightly that it could barely be called a kiss. When you hear him exhale with a moan, you quickly realise that he’s not actually kissing you; he’s yawning.

Sitting up straight, you catch him in the act, with his bearded mouth wide and his nose all scrunched up, looking as tired as a Grizzly bear ready to hibernate.

“You’re tired!” you utter, as your fingers dive into his beard. You still can’t tell if you like his facial hair. His ruggedness, an obvious display of machismo, is definitely a turn on and it feels so much better than you thought it would. On the other hand, you miss seeing his perfectly sculpted jaw and his dimpled chin. The beard makes him look older too, and no one except old men wear beards anymore. Maybe he’d look good with a goatee, lots of guys were wearing those recently.

“No, just getting used to the time zones again, that’s all.”

“What time did you get to bed last night?”

“Baby, I’m fine,” Sy insists.

You consider arguing the point. You know how little sleep you got last night, and you assume Sy would have experienced something similar, not to mention the travelling he’d done all day. His eyes are a little red around the edges and he’s blinking a lot. He reminds you of a kid who’s trying to stay up to see Santa Clause, barely able to keep their eyes open, but insistent on not missing out.

“You want to take that shower now, Chewbacca?” you ask, giving Sy’s beard a little tug. You climb off his tree trunk like thighs and collect your discarded clothes.

Sy stands, following you, and grabs hold of your hand with a raised eyebrow, “You don’t like it?” he asks, bringing your hand to his chin and rubbing his whiskers on your palm. It tickles and you squirm. Smirking, he adds, “I didn’t hear any complaints earlier.”

Playfully you jerk your hand away with a giggle, “I’m not used to it is all. Never even kissed a guy with a beard before, let alone…” your face feels like it's on fire and your ears burn, “the other thing.” Now that your blood has cooled, so has your confidence.

Sy keeps smirking as he gives you an amused look and bends to pick up his clothes, “Never been eaten out by a guy with a beard?”

Oh God! A jolt of energy tingles your spine and your core clenches. Shit, just hearing him say those words gets you worked up again.

You shake your head, “Never,” you say softly.

“You liked it though, didn't ya?” Sy’s smirk turns to a full grin, and his cheeks crease into dimples just above his beard. His eyes no longer seem tired, instead they shine with roguish intent, “It’s alright, baby, you can tell me. It’ll be our li’l secret.”

You bite your lip. He is such a flirt, how had he hidden this side of himself all this time? Turning away from him you make your way down the short hallway.

“Of course I liked it,” you say a little shyly, glancing behind you to make sure Sy is following, “You know I did! You just want to hear me say it, don’t you?”

“I ain’t gonna deny that, I like hearin’ you say you enjoyed it. ‘Specially in that voice of yours,” Sy’s voice grows raspy, and his register lowers as he speaks. You feel his body behind yours as he wraps an arm around your belly and growls into your ear, “Listenin’ to you moan my name— shit, you could make a man lose his damn mind, ya know that Sugar?”

Lose his mind? If that’s the case, you aren’t going to be far behind. One turn of phrase and he can melt you. It’s been a long time since a man has had that effect on you and the only thing that stops you from being embarrassed is that it’s obvious you have a similar effect on him.

“Give me your clothes,” you say with a warble in your voice.

Sy passes you his bundle and taking his bag from the hallway, you open the door to your room.

“My bedroom,” you tell Sy. His lips seem to grow tight into a line as he sticks his head through the door while you drop his clothes and his bag on the bed.

“You ok?” you ask him as you reenter the hall.

Sy eyes you up and down as he draws his lower lip into his mouth. Whatever the look he had on his face a few seconds ago was gone, replaced by a lusty grin.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says lewdly.

Fuck. It didn't cross your mind that without the bundle of clothes to hide behind you are completely naked. You have a sudden urge to cover up despite it being completely ridiculous, he’s already seen you naked and is about to get into the shower with you. But context is everything, and casually standing naked in the hallway feels different and so much more bold.

Fighting the urge to run and hide, you try to draw out the confidence you had not fifteen minutes earlier, and you stand still for a moment to let him look. He looks at you for a long time, his eyes slowly sliding down your body, as he takes a small step closer to you. For the first time you take in his whole naked form; he is magnificent. To you, he is masculinity manifest; the powerful muscular frame, the sheer size of him, and the hair covering his body that seems to be so perfectly manicured. You can’t stop your gaze from going lower to the thicket of curly hair and the leviathan that lay there, unhidden.

Imitating Sy’s reaction, you bite your lip at the sight of him. He’s not soft, but not entirely hard and he points to the floor. His length isn't much different from when he is hard, but he gets so much thicker. You know, when that moment arrives, he’s going to fill you up and stretch you wide. You think about grabbing his hand and taking him to your bedroom instead of the bathroom, but Sy takes another step closer and rests his hand on your cheek.

“I thought you were shy or something,” Sy says, moving his thumb slowly over the apple of your cheek. You must have looked confused because he continues, “You were reluctant that one time we talked about sex on the phone. I thought you were nervous about it, or really inexperienced.”

“Are you… disappointed?”

“Are you crazy?” Sy says quickly, and you can’t help but laugh. “Don’t you know…”

Sy stops mid sentence, his brows draw low, and his tongue works over his teeth as he begins to feel you. His palms rub over your body, occasionally stopping at random spots, squeezing you there, sometimes getting a handful of flesh, sometimes bone. His eyes follow the path of his hands until he sighs with a smile and looks at you.

“You are so fuckin’ gorgeous,” Sy shakes his head, “Remember the night we met?”

You nod, “At The Baron.”

“Yeah. The second you walked in, the whole bar got quiet. It made me—”

Sy’s jaw juts out, and he holds it there a moment as he seems to stare at nothing over your shoulder. You cover his hand with yours and his face relaxes a little as you slide your hand over his forearm. He smiles a little at you, but his eyes still seem distant.

“I remember turnin’ in my chair and watchin’ you, tryin’ to get it straight in my mind what a girl like you would be doin’ in a place like The Baron.”

You laugh and go to the small closet next to the bathroom to pull out a couple of washcloths and a spare towel for Sy.

“Pre-gaming,” you tell him with a grin. He looks surprised and you shrug, “One of my friends is dating the manager, he gives us cheap drinks.”

Sy narrows his eyes, “You ain’t still goin’ there, are you?”

“Sometimes.”

Sy gives you a long, hard look with raised eyebrows, then shakes his head.

“What?”

“It’s a rough bar,” he says, “It ain’t safe.”

You wait for him to tell you not to go there anymore, but he doesn’t, and even though you can tell he wants to, he bites his tongue. There is something reassuring about the way he suggests his displeasure at the thought of you going to that bar, but restrains himself from forbidding your actions. He seems to respect your autonomy and trusts in your ability to make decisions for yourself. These little parts of him that you’re discovering are only serving to increase your attraction to him. You pull on his neck, and give him a quick kiss to let him know you approve.

“Bathroom,” you say, indicating the next door in the hall. Sy points at it and you nod, waiting for him to go in before you follow, using the towels to hide behind, “I met you at The Baron,” you point out, bringing the conversation back to the first night you met as you pass him a washcloth.

Sy grins, his cheeks crease into dimples that peek out from just above his beard. He takes the cloth and draws you into his arms, “And look where we’ve ended up.”

“As if this isn’t where you wanted to be that night.”

“Course it is,” Sy’s voice drops low again, becoming softer and deeper, “Same with every other man there that night. You were otherworldly in that bar, Sugar. As out of place as a thoroughbred ploughin’ a field,'' Sy breathes in a little shakily, as if he’s reliving the moment. His voice is husky when he speaks again, “Then you smiled in my direction… and it was like a punch that knocked the wind out of me. You were so beautiful, baby, I couldn’t breathe.”

Goosebumps break over you as your body warms and your skin stays cool. Had he really thought that? He had never indicated he felt that way before. You think back to your date. He hadn’t been anything like he was today. Yeah, his kisses had been amazing, full of passion and desire but he’d also been very respectful. He barely touched you anywhere below your shoulders, his hands only occasionally wandering to your hip.

“So,” you lick your lips, unsure if you should ask the question that’s plagued you for over a year, “Why didn’t you ask me out again?”

Sy doesn’t answer for a while, not because he’s ignoring you or trying to come up with a lie, he just seems to be thinking, wanting to make sure his words are appropriate. It strikes you suddenly that this must be how he looked when he was quiet on the phone.

“I was given my orders a couple of days after I took you out.”

That isn’t a surprise. You thought he would have been given more notice than the week before, which is when he told you he was leaving.

“I thought,” he smiles briefly, “incorrectly, that if I didn’t see you again, it’d be easier on me. I couldn’t ask ya to wait for me, not after just one date. And a girl like you wasn't gonna be single for long. I figured by the time I got back, you’d be seein’ someone else. Thought if I kept my distance and didn’t start anythin’…”

Sy steps back and runs a hand over his short hair, as if he is signalling he was done speaking. You wait a while to make sure before you speak.

“I thought you weren’t interested,” you say.

Sy looks at you shaking his head, “How on God’s green earth did ya get that idea?”

You shrug, “Look at it from my perspective. You hit on me at the bar. You get my number. You call me the next day, and take me out the following weekend. We had a great time, then we came back here and…well…”

Sy grins, “I thought that was makin’ it clear I was interested.”

“It was,” you say slowly before sighing heavily, “Then you didn't ask me out again, and that pretty much told me I wasn't going to hear from you anymore.”

Sy takes your hand in his, lifting it palm up and kissing it. His nose hovers above your wrist and he inhales deeply through his nose. He growls playfully and nips at your fingers, “God dammit, woman. This perfume of yours, what’s it called? I’m gonna buy you a lifetime supply so you never stop wearin’ it.”

Though he’s obviously trying to distract you, he’s so skillfully charming you can’t help but giggle. “Quit it, Sy!”

Sy gives your finger one more bite before he stops, but he keeps hold of your hand. He’s smiling widely, as broadly and mischievously as a school boy. He’s so attractive, but when he smiles like that, he’s dazzling; it's so stunning you forget what you were talking about before he became playful. Dazed, you turn on the shower one handed, unwilling to let him go and unsure if he would release you anyway.

Despite your small apartment, your shower is spacious, obviously designed for couples and it accommodates you both with ease. However, it turns out you don’t need much space; Sy locks his arms around you, guiding your bodies so each of you has a shoulder under the spray. You lay your heads against each other and for a while that's how you stay, wrapped in each other’s arms, the embrace as warm as the sultry, soothing water.

When you lift your head, Sy has a small smile on his lips and he leans into you, nudging his nose against yours as his beard caresses your skin. Then his lips stroke yours softly and your eyes slide closed as the sensation of his kiss makes you float away.

“I fucked up, baby. I never meant for you to feel like I'd lost interest in you,” he says. It takes you a minute to remember what he is apologising for, “I thought walkin’ away early would keep you from gettin’ hurt too.”

“So why did you call a couple of months later then?”

Sy laughed ruefully, “’Cause I’m an asshole.”

You shake your head at him with a soft chuckle.

“It’s true. I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. I thought about ya so much that I couldn’t remember what I used to think about before I met you.”

If that wasn't one of the most romantic things you had ever heard, and he just said it like it was no big deal. There wasn't any emphasis or stressing the point that he was trying to be romantic. He said it like it was a fact, which only increased its impact. You’re stunned into silence, not quite understanding how Sy can be so nonchalant when he makes these little declarations of his affection for you.

Sy doesn’t seem to be expecting a reply and he guides your head to his shoulder again. With a deep, satisfied sigh, you lean into him and wrap your arms around his waist. Slowly he sways with you, a gentle rock back and forth that is just shy of dancing.

“This is nice,” you whisper, making your voice just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the spray echoing through the room. Sy hums in agreement.

“Can I wash you, Sy?” you boldly ask.

Sy has said that you’re responsive, but he really should see himself right now. His lips part as he breathes harder, and a soft flush blooms over his cheeks. Most telling though, is the feel of his cock as it jerks against your belly. He nods slowly in response.

Lathering the washcloth, you start with Sy’s chest, the dark, coarse hair suds up quickly as you sweep the cloth over his body. You wash his neck, his wide, sloped shoulders, and his thick, brawny arms, and then his taut stomach. At first, he is stiff and still, moving only his eyes as he tracks the path of your hand. Then he starts to breathe, deeper and longer, and moves his body beneath your touch, helping you by turning slightly and lifting his arms.

You gesture for him to face the other way and you wash his back, laying a chaste kiss against his spine. He’s smooth to touch and warm against your lips as you kiss between his shoulder blades. He leans into the cloth as you scrub a little harder, and makes a growl of pleasure. His skin is pale on his chest and back while his neck and arms are deeply tanned. You inventory the small scars and his perfect imperfections, trying to commit them to memory. Once again, you’re struck by how phenomenal his body is, how hulking and bullish. He looks so powerful, strong, raw, and so fucking masculine. Though you love the tender way he touches you, part of you wants to know what it would be like to feel his strength, to feel helpless in his arms, to be completely and utterly overpowered by him.

“Hmm, that's good,” Sy hums.

“Yeah?” Pressing your body against his back, you bring the soapy cloth over his ass and thighs.

“Yeah,” Sy confirms throatily.

Wrapping your arms around him, you reach between his legs, “And this?”

“Fuck!” Throwing an arm out against the tiled wall, his hips roll as your cloth covered hand moves over his now fully erect cock. You feel his hand cover yours and he guides your movements over his sex in quick, gestures.

Sy turns around swiftly and takes the cloth from your hand. You don’t understand, he seemed to be enjoying your touch and he was as hard as steel in your hand, but he pulled himself away.

Your confusion is short lived as he lathers the other washcloth and grins at you wolfishly, “My turn.”

Sy waits for you to nod before he turns you, laying his hand flat over your belly he gathers you close as he starts to wash. He leans his chin on your shoulder and watches as his hand moves over your breasts, slippery, but pleasantly rough, and your nipples harden in seconds under his languidly sensual touch.

He kisses your neck, softly and gently, dulcetly humming into your skin. Sy is so hard where he presses into you, just the feel of him makes your core throb maddingly. You ache to move and a near desperation fills you to do so, and soon you find yourself rubbing your body against his cock trying to entice him for more.

“Shh, baby. Easy,” Sy drawls in your ear.

Holy fuck. His voice is so gravelly, so coarse; and the commanding way he stills your movements by placing a firm hand on your hip, it makes you feel boneless, and your knees almost give way. Your fingers clutch at his forearm, gripping tight to hold yourself upright.

“I’m not fuckin’ you in here,” Sy tells you, then chuckles softly as you whine, “We’re just gonna wash.”

At first he is true to his word as he moves the cloth over your arms, shoulders and breasts again. Then he drops all pretence and the washcloth, which makes a splash as it falls to the tiles. His soapy hands are all over you, gliding over your skin as he teases your neck with soft brushes of his lips, his warm breath, and the constant rumble in his throat. Using his foot, he edges your feet apart and washes you gently between your legs. It’s arousing and erotic. Your body burns, but strangely your eyelids grow heavy and you lay your head against Sy’s shoulder. He hums and presses a tender kiss against your temple.

“Good girl,” Sy murmurs into your ear, “Hmm, you’re so soft.”

“You keep saying that.”

“‘Cause I keep thinkin’ it,” Sy says, “Your skin is soft, your lips are soft, your mouth is soft, and dear God your pussy,” he groans, pressing his swollen cock against you, “It's like smooth, wet, hot silk.”

You close your eyes and let your arms fall lazily at your sides, opening your body up completely for Sy, silently inviting him to take his fill. You’re well and truly clean, there’s no soap left but Sy keeps touching you, his hands moving over you with the same easy confidence he’d had earlier. You think he’s going to forget what he said about fucking you as his fingers graze teasingly over your now slick and swollen pussy.

Instead he sighs and wraps his arms around yours, effectively trapping you beneath his arms as his hands cover your breasts. He doesn’t caress you or squeeze you, he just seems content in holding you. Slowly the blazing heat he built up in you reduces to a manageable smoulder. He kisses your neck a few more times, short chaste brushes of his lips before he sighs again.

“We should get out,” Sy grumbles with obvious regret.

You don’t want to get out either, but you don’t stop him as he leaves the shower while you shut off the water. When you turn around he's holding your towel and as you step out of the cubicle he lifts it over your head and places it around your shoulders. He hums and kisses your forehead before wrapping his own towel around his waist.

“Thank you,” you say.

Sy smiles in acknowledgement and follows you to the bedroom. He ogles you as you dry off, his cock is still stiff and you pretend not to notice. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him too. More than seeing him naked, watching him towel off is strangely erotic and intimate.

A sudden longing fills you as you realise that this piece of domesticity could become normal if this thing between you and Sy can last. This yearning, for him to be with you day and night, and for him to be at home with you, it feels like he’s holding your heart on a string and each moment you’re together he tugs you closer and closer.

“Which side do you want to sleep on?” you ask, pulling on your robe. You don’t bother with underwear because you hope you won’t stay dressed long enough to need them. Sy has put on a pair of track pants with a wife beater and he looks at your bed irritably as he gnaws on his bottom lip.

“Huh?” Sy looks at you, his eyes a little wild as they dart around the room then back to the bed. He rubs a hand over his short hair, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

Your heart sinks. What the hell happened in the space of a few minutes? “Why not?” you ask tersely.

“Bed’s too small.” His voice is cold and distant.

Scrunching your face up, you look at your bed. It doesn’t look too small to you. Sure, Sy is a big guy, but you had also figured there would be quite a bit of snuggling, and you certainly don’t need a lot of room for that. Besides, aren’t army beds small?

“It’s a queen,” you tell Sy, trying to refute his argument.

He grunts as you come closer, “It’s too soft,” he mumbles and you can barely hear him.

“Sy, if you don't want to spend the night with me, you don't have to make up excuses,” Although you try to bite back your agitation, it carries in your voice and Sy picks it up easily.

“That’s fucking bullshit, Sugar, and you know it,” Sy barks, his harsh tone reflecting your annoyance. He’s never spoken to you like that before and it makes you take a step back. His eyes widen as he realises how he sounded and he tempers his expression, “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry. I…” he cuts himself off, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Something is wrong. He was allusive earlier when you had asked if he was spending the night, and you recalled that he had a similar attitude on the phone when you talked about sleeping together. At the time, you had thought it was because he wasn’t sure how far you were willing to go with him and he hadn’t wanted to pressure you, but now it all seemed suspect. Surely, he knew that you wanted to have sex at some point tonight, especially if you slept in the same bed; there was far too much sexual tension between you for it not to happen.

“I do wanna stay with you,” Sy says, drawing you into an embrace, “You gotta know I want nothing more in this world than to wake up with you in my arms.”

“Then why are you making such a big issue out of it?”

“It’s nothin’, baby… I’m just…” Sy grins at you, “I’m hungry.”

You aren't sure if you believe him. The smile on his face doesn't quite reach his eyes and it leaves you feeling on edge. There's something he’s not telling you, and the fact that he isn’t being open with you makes you wonder if he’s ever been honest with you at all. You return his smile with a disingenuous one of your own while your mind furiously tries to decide if you should call him out on the suspected insincerity.

You let it go, hoping that you’re just reading too much into things, “Come on then. I’ll cook you dinner.”

In the kitchen, you give Sy a beer and tell him to have a seat while you prepare dinner. He seems more relaxed now as he sits at the island bench watching you with a more genuine half-smile as you gather your utensils. Maybe he really isn't hiding anything. Shaking off your doubts, you concentrate on preparing the meal.

“We could order in if ya want,” Sy says, “I do owe you a few dinners.”

“When was the last time you had a home cooked meal with fresh food?”

“It’s been a while,” Sy admits.

“So, let me cook for you. I cook for myself, it’s not that much more to cook for you too.”

“Okay,” Sy agrees, “The offer is there though, maybe tomorrow night?”

His words make you pause momentarily as you reach for a head of lettuce in the crisper drawer. After the conversation you just had in the bedroom, his plan to see you again tomorrow seems odd. If he doesn’t want to spend the night, but still wants to see you tomorrow, why not just stay?

You continue gathering the ingredients, trying to push away the nagging uncertainties. It isn't much, just a couple of steaks and a salad but Sy’s eyes grow wide at the sight of the two beef ribeyes on the plate. You silently congratulate yourself as he stares at the food and licks his lips. Then you stifle a giggle as you realise that, sometimes, he really does look at you like you’re something to eat. Maybe that should upset you, but it doesn’t. Maybe there isn’t anything to worry about, maybe he just likes sleeping alone.

There are so many unanswered questions in your mind, you’re relieved when they dissipate as you immerse yourself in the meal prep. Sy seems content to watch you, barely making any conversation until you ask him how he likes his steak cooked.

“Medium rare,” he says, “Cooked on the outside, a little bloody in the centre.”

“You’re a man after my own heart,” you agree.

“Yes ma’am,” Sy says with a roguish grin, “Among other things,” He winks at you, well he tries to, but it’s more of an exaggerated blink.

Pressing your lips together, you hold in your laugh, feeling your face heat with the effort.

“You laughin’ at me, darlin’?” Sy asks, playfully.

You shake your head still avoiding looking at him, but he moves his head into your line of sight still wearing the same puckish smirk and you release your laughter with an embarrassing bark.

The moment of light-heartedness breaks the tension between you and you both begin to talk about what foods you like, the conversation flowing as easily as it had on the phone. You feel relieved, in the back of your mind there has always been the worry that perhaps your relationship wouldn’t be the same in person; or worse, that once sex was introduced, the friendly ease you had with each other would disappear. Of course, you are attracted to Sy and it's what made you agree to a date with him all those months ago, but it was your conversations that convinced you there was the potential for more.

Watching Sy eat was a joy unto itself. You had only ever cooked for a couple of men and none of them seemed to eat with the level of gusto he was exhibiting now. You marvel at how he could be so quick but also maintain his manners. It was like he inhaled the food rather than chewed it and he sat back nursing a second beer while you finished eating.

“Want to watch the movie?’ you ask when you are done. You look at Sy and see him staring at you, or rather through you, “Sy?”

“Sorry,” Sy says with a start. He sniffs and seems to give himself a shake, “I was… somewhere else there for a minute.”

“You alright?” you ask and it suddenly dawns on you what his problem could be. The phone calls when he was too quiet, the worry about sleeping, how distracted and far away he looked sometimes, he reminded you a little of your father, “We don't have to, we could watch something else, or we could just talk?” Please talk to me Sy, you want to add, but bite your tongue. If his problem is what you think it is, he’s probably not going to discuss it easily.

“We’ve talked a lot,” Sy says, “About everythin’, and nothin’,” he puts a hand on your face and his thumb caresses the apple of your cheek, “How is it we still find things to say?”

You shrug, “There’s still so much that I don't know about you.”

“You know me, Sugar. You may not know all the details, but you know me.”

“Details are important, Sy.”

He grunts and drops his hand. He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs, resting an ankle on his knee, “What kind of details are you lookin’ for?”

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. His guard has gone up again, even his eyes are narrowed and full of suspicion.

He nods and frowns slightly, looking at you with raised brows, “Are you talkin’ about my tour?”

Jesus, he’s blunt. You try not to shift uncomfortably under the weight of his stare. He does not look impressed, “I mean if something’s weighing on your mind… if something’s bothering you…” You trail off as his eyes darken.

“You don’t wanna know about that shit,” He shakes his head and folds his arms across his broad chest, “I thought you’d understand that… you more than most.”

“Because of my Dad and brother?”

“Yeah. How much do you know about what goes on over there?”

Your throat feels dry and you reach for your wine, gulping it down hard and filling the glass again, “More than you’d think.”

Sy looks surprised, “Your Dad told you stories?”

“He didn’t have to tell us. He used to scream during the night,” you say, keeping your tone low, “One time he actually got me and my brother out of bed and had us in the car before Mom found us and redirected him back to bed. He was asleep with his eyes open. He’d even responded to questions.”

Sy grunts but makes no comment.

“I didn’t know at the time what was going on, but… I know now,” You inhale sharply; just revisiting that night in your mind feels like reliving the trauma, and you can’t imagine how the men in your life lived through the real thing, night after night, “I’m not telling you about my father because I understand what you might be going through, because I don’t, and I know that. I only know that he had to talk about it.”

Sy’s chest starts to heave, and he looks away from you, his jaw juts forward as he runs his tongue over his teeth. His arms drop by his side, and his ankle falls off his knee. You bring your chair closer to his, your knees almost touching. You lay your hand out palm up on his thigh. He stares at it so long that you think about taking it back, but then he sighs and takes it in his.

“What do ya want me to say, Sugar?” He asks, folding both of his hands around yours. They’re so big that just the tips of your fingers peek through.

You move to the edge of the chair to be closer to him. You want to take him in your arms, to hold him and console him. Not just for this moment, but for all of the other times you had heard the need for comfort in his voice and you were unable to provide it.

“Whatever you want to. Just know that you don’t have to hide from me Sy, I don’t scare easily.”

“Come here, baby,” Sy tugs on your hand and you stand, intending to sit on his lap like he seems to like. Instead he wraps his arms around your waist and presses his face into your belly. Immediately, that deep feminine instinct to soothe kicks in and you run your fingers over his soft, short hair.

“Shhh,” the gentle shushing noises seem to also come from that same primal urge. As you stroke his head and tenderly scratch at his neck and back, you wonder if this is another thing Sy thought about: how it would feel to have his woman hold him like this. His woman. Even if you think of yourself with that title, it's never been addressed. Like so much with Sy, you talk and talk, but so much gets left unsaid.

“I can’t sleep,” Sy says, his voice muffled, and you stop breathing, not wanting to do anything to stop his admission, “I haven't slept more than a couple of hours a night for a few weeks now,” He’s quiet for a second or two and you lean back trying to get a look at his face, but he stops you, “I can’t… please… just stay like this for me, baby.”

“Ok, Noah,” you lull.

Sy squeezes you gently, “You’ve never said my name before,” he murmurs.

“You don’t like it?”

“I do like it,” he says, his voice still a little smothered by your robe. Then he takes a deep breath and speaks clearly, “Sometimes I wake in a sweat, kicking at the blankets cause I feel… trapped, I guess.”

“That's why you don’t want to spend the night with me?”

“I haven’t slept with a woman for a long time,” he confesses, and you feel him tense before adding, “I mean I’ve had—”

“I know what you mean,” you interrupt, surprising yourself at how quickly the seed of jealousy bore fruit in your mind.

“I don’t know if I’d lash out at ya, if I’d— I don’t want to hurt you,” Sy finally raises his head and meets your eyes. Your heart skips and you’re barely able to suppress a gasp. He looks awful, and so tired; his eyes are bleary and wild and rimmed with red, “I want to spend the night with you,” he says as he stands up, keeping his arms firmly around you, “God damn, I want to so badly,” He drops his head until your noses meet, “I wanna go to bed with you every night and wake up with your pretty li’l head on my chest every mornin’.”

You smile at the thought, “I want that too, Noah.”

“I just don’t know if I can,” Sy says in a pained voice.

“Has this happened before? The nightmares, I mean?”

“Occasionally,” Sy admits, “But not like this.” He looks above your head and you worry that you’re going to lose his focus, so you hold his face between your hands and direct his gaze back to yours.

“Can we try?” you ask.

Sy frowns, and it seems like time slows as he assesses you before letting out a long breath, “Are you sure?”

“I told you Sy,” you smile a little, “You’re gonna have to do better than that to scare me off.”

Sy chuffs, a small smile appears on his face too, “Ok baby.”

His eyes drop and you sense a swift change in his mood as he sucks in a breath through his teeth. Puzzled, you follow his gaze and notice that your robe has fallen open, revealing the centre of your chest and inner curve of your breasts, down to your navel.

“Sorry,” you mumble, as you take a couple of steps back and fumbling to close the garment.

“Stop.” His words are a command and you drop your hands almost immediately.

Sy closes the short distance between you, stopping before your bodies can meet. His chest starts to expand a little faster, the air whistles through his teeth with each panting breath. With slightly shaky hands, he pulls at the belt and the knot falls apart. He looks at you briefly with narrowed eyes and a slightly open mouth before he looks down at his hands. He grips the lapels and parts the robe at your waist, opening it wide.

The tension slowly leaves his face as he takes you in and his tongue glides over his bottom lip before he draws it into his mouth and bites it. His eyes are everywhere, staring at you greedily, as though he were seeing you for the first time. There’s an open yearning to his wide eyed gaze, a vulnerability he doesn’t try to disguise. He raises his hand to your waist but stops and meets your eyes before he makes contact with you. You don’t dare move, because you fear if he keeps looking at you like he is, your legs won’t be able to hold you.

Heat.

That’s the only word you can think of as his eyes seem to want to burn through yours, and all you want in the world is to go up in flames. He doesn’t drop his gaze as he puts his hands on your waist. He’s gentle, the pads of his fingers making contact first, leading with a tender caress.

Sy hums softly as he slides the robe off of your shoulders before wrapping an arm around you. The energy between you feels like electricity arcing; he draws you in closer until your chest meets his and a jolting spark shoots down your spine, straight to your clit.

Barely suppressing a moan, you put your arms around his shoulders and bring his head into your neck. You can hear and feel his muffled groan as he nuzzles into you and tightens his arms.

“I’m gonna take you to bed,” he rasps as his lips move gently over your skin, “God, I want you. I want all of you.”

“Then take me, Sy,” you whisper because you couldn’t speak any louder if you wanted to, you’re so breathless.

Sy doesn’t wait for a second invitation, keeping an arm around you he walks you to your room. He shepherds you backwards until your legs hit the bed and you let yourself fall onto the mattress with a giggle. Sy pulls his tank off as he climbs onto the bed, smiling as he sits with his back against the headboard and pulls you over him, your legs on either side of his.

The sun is starting to set and brilliant red and orange light seeps through your curtains and hits Sy’s face just right. You stare at him, struck by how handsome he is. His cheekbones are so perfectly highlighted by his beard, and although his skin is marred by scars, it only adds to his rugged perfection.

“What are you lookin’ at, baby?” he asks slowly, drawing your attention to his lips that are stretched into a gentle smile. Now they are perfect. Big enough to suit his face, and so surprisingly soft. Without conscious thought, your thumb sweeps gently over them and he chases it with his teeth, giving you a delicate nip and a kiss.

“Just you,” You keep your voice low too, like any loud noise would break the spell of this moment, “You’re so good looking.”

Sy holds your hand to his lips and kisses your palm, “I could say the same about you, but it wouldn’t do you justice… you’re so much more than ‘good looking’.”

“Sy,” you shake your head, you can feel your cheeks heating, “I–”

He shuts you up with a kiss, lips firm against your mouth. His arms tighten around you and he rolls you over onto your back, “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs emphatically as his hand moves down the side of your body with a tender touch. His hand is hesitant as he sweeps it over your belly, and his voice shakes ever so slightly, “I told you, I’ve never wanted a woman like I want you.”

His fingers trace the curve of your breast, and your nipples tighten as his touch sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine. Sy bites his lip as he watches your reactions.

“I wanna know all the ways I can make you tremble like that. I’m gonna take you every way I know how. I’m gonna make love to you, and I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t breathe. I want you on top of me and under me. I want you on your fuckin’ knees,” he growls, and for a moment you think that’s exactly what he’s going to do. His eyes are wild and hungry, like he’s doing everything he can not to flip you onto your stomach and take you from behind.

Instead he lowers his head to your breasts, taking you into his soft, warm mouth. He peers at you from beneath his brows as he moves to your other breast and his tongue comes out to circle your nipple slowly, his breath cooling the wetness he leaves behind. With a faint moan he draws the tight bud into his mouth, and you gasp as you feel his fingers caressing higher on your inner thigh.

“Open for me baby, let me touch you.”

Your legs part without any thought, it's nearly embarrassing how quickly you obey. But you’re ready for him, so ready, and you want him to know it.

“A little more,” he shifts his weight, giving your legs more room, “That’s it. That’s what I want.”

His fingers keep moving higher, and your thighs quake in anticipation. You drop your head back to the pillow, closing your eyes. God he’s so much, how does he know just what to say, just how to touch you to make you so malleable?

Then he’s on you, his hand is between your legs and the heat of his skin burns your already hot centre.

“Oh God, you’re so wet! So soft and warm,” he moans, burying his head into your chest. Your body surges and your hips move against his palm, “Oh fuck, you’re killin’ me here, baby.”

His teeth sink softly into the flesh of your breast as his finger slips inside you followed swiftly by a second. You hold on to him, gripping his forearm tight, holding him inside you as you rock against his palm, and his mouth moves over your body.

Sy moves behind you, tucking your body in close. Lifting your leg over his and wrapping an arm around your waist, he presses his hardness against your undulating body, grinding and rocking with you. He crushes his mouth against your ear, his beard and lips scratching at your sensitive skin.

“Baby, look at you move, you’re so close ain’t ya? I can feel ya squeezing my fingers. You’re makin’ me so fuckin’ hard.”

You moan, reaching behind you to pull his hips closer to yours. You close your eyes, focussing on the feeling of his fingers, his hot breath on your neck, and his cock rubbing against your ass.

Sy hums, “You like the way my cock feels, don't ya?” Even though you know it's a rhetorical question, you nod emphatically, “Soon as you come, baby, I’m gonna be inside you. God, you’re gonna feel amazing, I’m gonna make it feel so good for you.”

His fingers slide out of your core and press against your clit and your hips buck as you cry out. He growls, the arm around your waist tightens and his teeth sink into your ear. He’s suddenly rough with you, his kiss is full of harsh need, all sucking and biting, and he holds you so tight you can barely breathe. His raw power is so potent, but his touch between your legs is still so gentle where he moves over your clit.

“Sy, I…” you stutter, panting so hard you can’t make the words form.

His arm leaves your waist, fingers sliding up to your cheek to turn your face to his, “Call me Noah, baby,” he kisses you and keeps your face close to his, his voice just a whisper, “I want you to call me Noah.”

You bring your hand to his bearded cheek as you teeter on the edge of your release, “You’re going to make me come, Noah.”

“Good girl. That’s all I want, baby. Do it, come, I want it.”

You close your eyes, so, so close.

“Look at me, I wanna see, I…”

You open your eyes, but barely. You feel intoxicated, so high you could touch the ceiling. Then whatever was holding you up falls away and your body explodes as warmth floods you. Your eyes slide shut again and you can barely hear Sy’s whispered praise.

“That's good, baby. You're so good for me…so beautiful…so fucking perfect,” His kisses move down your neck and across your shoulders as you come back into your body. Still tingling with warmth, your skin feels so sensitive, each brush of his lips stokes the heat in you and you know you must have more of him.

You roll over in his arms and kiss him, letting your hand slide over his head and neck like he enjoys. You thought he’d already be pushing himself into you; he feels so hard and ready. Instead, he moves under your hand like a puppy who wants pats, guiding your touch to where he wants it as he presses his face between your breasts with a groan.

Then, quite suddenly, he pushes you onto your back, rising between your legs until you feel the hardness between his, pressing against your hot center. He’s so heavy above you, but you like it; you want to feel his weight, feel how open you are beneath him as he spreads your legs wide to accommodate his body. He kisses his way back up to your neck, trailing his lips over your throat and jaw.

“Noah,” you murmur, and you squirm beneath him, feeling the length of him slide easily between your slick and swollen slit.

Sy hisses in your ear, then pulls his hips away with a curse.

“Shit, I… do I need a condom?” he asks.

“You’ve been tested, right?” you ask, knowing your brother is tested after every deployment, “And I’m on birth control.”

“Yeah, I have, but I’ll wear one if you want me to.”

“I trust you, Noah,” you tell him sweetly and matter-of-factly.

His brows come together and he looks away, his jaw is hard and you can see the muscles clenching. His chest pumps harder and you feel his already rock-hard cock pulsing against your thigh. He looks at you and lowers himself back down until his weight is on you again, holding his head above yours. His eyes glisten, and you wonder if he is going to cry.

“Are you…”

“Baby, I…” he sighs and leans on his elbows while his fingers stroke your hair, “I’m in so deep with you. You know that right?” Your furrowed brows must have been an answer because he continued, “I’m in so fuckin’ deep, I can barely see the surface.”

Your eyes widen, you’re not stupid, you know what he’s trying to say. Suddenly, your chest becomes tight and tears sting your eyes, “Noah–”

His mouth covers yours, “Don’t say anythin’,” he says into your mouth, “you don't need to, just kiss me.”

And that’s what you do, letting your need for him speak through the hard collision of your lips and the soft insistence of your tongue. Your desire for him is as strong as his is for you. You’re in just as deep as he is and you don’t even try to hide it.

As if of one mind, you each reach a hand between your bodies for his cock. You both let out a short laugh, and instantly you’re nervous again.

“Sorry,” you apologise shily.

Sy shakes his head, “It’s okay. Here,” he takes your hand in his and places it around his length. He moves your hand over him and whispers, “Together.”

You nod and suddenly you’re both serious, eyes locked onto the one another, your breaths coming hard and fast. The silky, soft skin of Sy’s dick slides over your slick folds and your eyes flutter closed with a gasp as his head brushes your clit.

“Look at me baby,” Sy urges and you open your eyes, “Keep lookin’ at me. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

His hand tightens around yours as he guides himself into your core, and you inhale sharply as he slides in, inch by blissful inch. Your eyes widen as you feel the pressure of him sinking into you, and you squeeze his hand as your pussy stretches to welcomely accommodate his girth.

“Oh, fuck,” Sy groans as your bodies meet, lifting your hand off of him and lacing his fingers in yours as he pins your hand against the mattress above your head. He swells within you, filling you, owning you so completely that you don’t know how you ever felt satisfied before him. He kisses your mouth and chin, cheeks and neck, but he still hasn’t moved, his hardness bound within you.

His free hand clutches at your hip like he wants to be deeper than he already is, and his face tightens as he huffs his breaths like a bull, nearly snorting through his flaring nose. Holding his weight on his elbows he moves his free hand to caress your face, he’s so gentle, despite how much he wants you. You feel like he’s holding back, he seems so tense, and you want to tell him to let go and be wild, but— God you want him like this too! His tender touches make your heart skip like the needle jumping on a record. You run your hand up his arm and shoulder and lay it against his fur, watching the billowing of his chest with each panting breath.

“You’re so…” Sy says before slamming his mouth shut and with a low growl, and pressing his lips to yours. His kiss is intense, urgent and needful, with no finesse at all. His lips move roughly over yours, opening them, licking and sinking his teeth into the flesh of your lower lip. Then he moves and it feels like satin gliding over your silken walls. You feel him everywhere, like he’s invaded every cell of your being as his body rolls above yours in a powerful, yet gentle rhythm, so different to the way his lips are moving.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, so… so… fuck! You’re everything, Sugar. You’re everything.”

You kiss him with an intensity to match his, neither of you are holding back now, you need him so desperately.You tug your hand out from beneath his, grabbing at his back, feeling the way his spine rolls and his muscles ripple as he undulates above you. His skin is searingly hot and you pull on his shoulders, wrapping your legs around him, craving a closer proximity to all of that heat, all of that muscle, and all of that raw power.

“More,” you implore, fingers digging into the hard muscle of his ass, “I need more.”

“Like this,” he growls, his voice rumbling like an engine, deep and throaty. He keeps the same easy flow but pushes into you with a hard grunt.

“God, yes,” you moan as your back arches.

Your body catches his new rhythm and you move together, eyes firmly locked on each other, neither of you can look away. How can it be like this? How can it feel this good when it’s never been like this with anyone else. Suddenly, all of those months of waiting, all of the worry and build up, come crashing down over you. Your vision blurs and you can’t blink fast enough to stop the tears from falling.

“Sugar, I…”

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, pulling on his neck until his whole body rests on yours. “Please— please don't stop,” You kiss him hard, begging him with your mouth, demanding more with your hips.

“Shit, baby, I don’t know if I should…” You close your eyes with a shuddering moan, and feel the rough pads of his thumbs wipe at the tears that spill over your temples. Sy groans, and drops his head into your neck, his arms wrap around your back, “It’s okay, you’re good. I'm here, I’ve got you,” he mumbles as his lips gently kiss along the side of your neck.

Sy slides an arm further up your back and cradles the back of your head, while the other lifts your leg, holding it under his arm. Oh God! He moves, pushing so much deeper, and he’s hitting that spot that makes you go wild. Your fingers dig into his neck and back, his skin is slick with sweat and he wipes his face against his arm before he leans over you, pressing his forehead against yours.

You feel the soft pillows of his lips skim over your face, gliding over the planes of your skin as he mumbles your name, so softly you’re not even sure he said it. You open your eyes and you feel him as you’re held by his gaze, you feel his love, his passion, his need. And as he whispers your name again, you feel him so profoundly that it seems as though he has seeped into the marrow of your bones.

You’re close to your peak, and you cry out wordlessly as your body pulls tighter and tighter, “Noah, I’m…” you're so breathless, panting, you can't even say it.

“It's okay baby, let it happen, I want it. Give yourself to me, come on my cock. I wanna feel you, I fuckin’ want it all, give it to me, Sugar,” Sy grunts out his encouragement through hard gritted teeth. His head pushes so hard against yours it almost hurts, but his thumb strokes your cheek softly and his fingers move over your neck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as that welcome and familiar tightening grows in your gut. You know you must be close to shouting, but all you can hear is Sy’s muttered urgings, the slap of your bodies colliding with one another, and the rustle of the pillow beneath your head as Sy pushes you further up the bed with each thrust.

“Christ, look at you, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, so fuckin’ hot,” Sy whispers before his tongue slides over your parted lips, “Come for me, baby. God, I wanna feel you.”

You kiss him, clumsy and desperate, clutching him closer and tighter, not letting go until you crest your peak and fall into your orgasm. Waves of pleasure make your whole body contract and release, you can feel your core tighten around him, feel him as he keeps fucking you through your climax and the little, shivering aftershocks that ripple through you as he hits that spot again and again.

He doesn't stop, doesn’t slow down, if anything, he’s going harder than before. His arms slide under yours and he grabs your shoulders in his hands using them for leverage. His eyes stay on yours until he can’t hold back anymore and he swears, his lip rising into a snarl before he throws his head back with a deep primal growl. You’re awestruck as his neck fills with tension, rivulets of sweat run down his reddening skin and the muscles tighten, tendons and veins popping as he strains with effort. Your already stretched core is spread wide again and you cry out as you feel him thicken and release into you.

Then he stills, his head drops back to your neck and his hot, panting breath roars in your ear. For a moment, you feel all his weight as he pulls an arm out from behind your back and searches until he finds your hand, slipping his fingers between yours. With a hum you squeeze his hand and using your free arm and both legs you hug him, and Sy chuckles softly.

His laugh makes you grin and his kiss on your neck makes you want to melt for him all over again. “God damn,” he murmurs. You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed and a Cheshire grin has spread across his face. You kiss his lips, and his eyes open, his smile widening until a dimple creases his cheek.

“Yeah,” you say, “God damn.”

For a while you both lay there looking at each other while you catch your breath. Sy’s thumb strokes the back of your hand, and you bring it to your lips giving it a lingering kiss.

Sy closes his eyes and kisses your cheek. His slowly softening cock falls from your core as he rolls onto his back and you protest with a whine.

“Don't worry, I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he says, pulling you into the crook of his arm. You smile and rest your head on his shoulder, your fingers are drawn to his chest hair like there's a magnetic pull. Although wet and matted by sweat and friction, it’s still comforting as your fingers comb through the coarse curls and you close your eyes. Sy yawns, and you imagine his eyes have closed too as his fingers lazily dance up and down over your arm.

Not wanting to imagine it, you lift your head and rest your chin on his chest. Sure enough, his eyes are closed, the muscles in his face seem to be at rest and you stay there, transfixed, watching as he seems to flirt with the edge of consciousness. Soon his fingers stop their caress and his hand falls limply over your arm, presumably asleep.

There’s a part of you that is still disbelieving of his presence here, that you’d actually just had sex. You felt like if you fell asleep now, you would awake to find it had all been a dream. You fight the urge to trace the lines of his features: the straight, but bumpy nose, the strong, prominent brows, the high, chiseled cheekbones, and those soft, plush lips. Instead you rest your head back onto his shoulder and watch him slumber peacefully, enjoying your uninterrupted study of him.

With a rumble in the back of his throat, Sy opens his eyes with a start, eyes wild and rolling in his head before they quickly settle on you. He sniffs as he takes a second to get his bearings then rolls onto his side, pulling you in close with an exaggerated grunt and a squeeze.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to doze off,” his voice is husky and deep with the remnants of sex and sleep.

“Would you just admit that you’re tired, Sy?” you say teasingly.

He chuckles. He’s got you so close to him, tucked in so tight, that his chin hits the top of your head when he speaks, “I am tired, baby.”

“C’mon, get under the blankets with me.”

You can feel him swallow against your forehead, “I’d like to shower first,” he says.

You kiss his still damp chest. “I told you, I don’t mind you being a little sweaty.”

“Darlin’, I’ve spent about 12 months without a proper shower. I’m gonna take one every chance I get,” he reveals and you can hear a grin in his voice.

“That's fair. Want me to come too?”

“It's ok, I’ll be quick.”

“What I should have said is, I want to come too.”

The shower is much quicker this time, Sy washes himself so fast that he was almost done by the time you finished fussing and got in. Through the frosted door, you see him wrap a towel around his waist and leave the bathroom, coming back with a toothbrush. Finishing just as he returns, you towel off and join him at the sink, the two of you brushing your teeth together.

You both keep looking at one another through the mirror, smiling at each other. Sy grins and gently bumps your shoulder with his, you shake your head with a silent chuckle then lean over the sink to spit out your excess paste.

As you straighten and lift your gaze, it's as if you’ve had a vision, deja vu. In that moment, it was as if the two of you had done this a million times before. Standing here together, preparing for bed at the end of the day, like it was your normal, natural, routine. With a sudden clarity, you could see it, your future with him became crystalised, set in stone, and you wanted this to be your life forever.

Hold on is this like a series???? Cause if not i def think it should be @blakerogue this is amazing.

Rena decides to take a breath of fresh air on a late February night. Little did she know, she'd finally meet the creature from her childhood tales.

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter x OFC!Rena (written as 'you').

Content warnings: Horror/Thriller, chase, fear, man in agonising pain, mention of breaking bones, description of werewolf transformation. mention of going into shock, overwhelmed senses(?), description of canine behaviour, werewolf hunting(?), higher power manipulation, raw sex (p in v) with a werewolf, werewolf comforting female, manhandling (a little), masochist Walter, orgasm, cream pie, werewolf bite, mention of blood, mention of claw marks on skin, fluffy ending with soft!Walter.

Authors Note: Thank you @wolvesandhoundshowltogether for you support, help, and feedback. This was edited by me, you may find errors. If you do, hush.

*No permission given to repost, rewrite, translate or copy my work or any part of it and claiming it as your own!

If you enjoyed my story, pretty please, reblog, and leave a comment. I’d love to know your thoughts.

BAD MOON RISING

In Polish mythology, Porvata is the God of the woods; he has no idol or image; and manifests throughout the primeval forest...

In folklore, a werewolf is a human with the ability to shape shift into a wolf, either purposely or after being placed under a curse...

...

Twigs and nature’s rogue spikes slashed at your face and arms as you frantically bolted away from the beast at lighting speed. Your legs where a mere blur of black mist flying and weaving through the forest debris. Razor-sharp thorns nipped at your bare ankles, while serpent-like vines attempted to wrap around your feet and hand you to the beast.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage like a rapid bird trying to escape, yet you didn’t feel the pain it caused you. You couldn’t feel the aching of your cramping muscles as your legs pushed you faster. You couldn’t feel the flames in your lungs, or taste the iron in your dry, panting mouth.

The only thing you could feel, was fear. Not the kind of fear that chilled the fibres in your body into ice, rendering you paralysed. It was the kind of fear that made you flee for your life.

15 minutes earlier

Out for a late night stroll, you hoped to get some fresh air before huddling up on the couch with another angst filled romance novel and a spicy cup of tea. The February evenings where rather nippy, but the trees that made up the forest kept the chilly breeze away. So a long, woollen scarf -in the colours of your appointed Hogwarts house- was all that you needed to keep you toasty.

Happily, you hopped onto an old tree stump, partially covered in moss. Doing a little twirl, you giggled, feeling like a forest fairy. All you needed now was a pair of fern green butterfly wings.

Stepping off the stump, you shoved your hands deep into the pockets of your puffy jacket, and carried on down the path that would soon circle you back home.

Closing your eyes, you listened intently to the songs of nature; the owl hooted his wise tales, the stealthy fox scampered around in the pile of dry leaves, the clever rabbit bounced around avoiding the fox, the graceful trees swept their limbs against their neighbours in the soft breeze up above, and the howling man-

The man?

Your eyes shot open.

A pained yelp snapped your head to the left. The blood drained from your face as you realised you weren’t alone, and someone was hurt. Who else is here? A violent tremor rattled through your body. They may need help. Determination governed your movement, and you began to follow the sickly sound of faint grunts. Veiled by shadows, you prayed to stay unnoticed. Dodging a low branch, you gently tip toed over a mass of fallen twigs. As you brought your head up, your vision met a dark figure. Stopping in your tracks, your fear-stricken, wide eyes took in the sight of the hunched over man.

Dressed in dark attire, he had collapsed to his knees beside a thick tree. His head was tipped down, almost kissing the forest floor as one of his hands gripped firmly at the nest of dark curls cloaking his face. You saw him convulse vehemently before his body stiffened.

The man was big. His shoulders were broad and the thigh visible to you was powerfully thick.

As the clouds parted and full moon illuminated the ground below it, you hunched your body lower to the floor in hopes to stay undetected.

As the silvery light hit his wool-covered, herculean back, you heard the pained grunt as his body rippled with agony. His hand slammed against the bark. The tree he was leaning on screeched in torment as it’s body broke and shattered under the hand of the stranger. The sickly cracks echoed through the forest, while your eyes followed the trail of dark veins tracking up the tree. You felt an icy shiver crawl up your spine.

Your gaze followed the trail of the cracked wood back down to the powerful hand, and you couldn’t help but gasp in terror. Inhumanly sharp, long, black claws had pushed up from beneath the mans nails. They were thick and curved, like the claws on a tiger. A predator.

The mission to stay undetected for as long as possible failed miserably, because even though your gasp was more internal, the large man didn’t miss the slight hitch in a steady breathe (one that he’d mistake for the one of a woodland creature). Abnormally fast, his head snapped in your direction, at a sickly angle. His head was tilted to the side and his neck was bent down. It looked like his head was trying to fuse with his chest. And yet the angle of his skeleton wasn’t the most frightening part. No. What petrified you to your core, were the black, soulless eyes that stared into your soul.

Your body began to tremble and your blood turned ice cold. The blackness filled his entire eye, making it look like you were looking into the deepest, darkest pit of hell.

Your lungs began to burn, you had been holding your breathe for far too long. You tried to breath, but all that came out was a squeak. The man’s body trembled as a beastly snarl erupted from between his teeth. His teeth… Those teeth belonged to a predator, not a man! Sharp points replaced the smooth lines of his teeth. Your body went into shock. Your bones jittered inside your flesh and your started to hyperventilate. While your eyes focused on his teeth, you swore that they got larger and sharper by the second.

As your body threatened to shut down out of pure panic, your eyes caught a glimpse of black lighting strikes crawling up the mans neck. Higher and higher, black coloured his veins, crawled beneath his bushy beard, till they began to cover his flushed cheeks. A violent jolt and the nauseating sound of a broken bone, was all you needed for a kick start.

Slapping the wet leaves beneath you, you threw yourself back under the branch. You scarf caught onto one of the twigs, and in a panicked rush to escape you untwisted it and yanked your head free from its trap.

With a thud, you landed on your rear, your feet pushing you back, further from the man. With a thunderous roar, the man leaped towards you, scrambling at you on all fours, before another snap of bones sent him to the floor with a cry of agony. A cry that sounded human… No, that is not human, you declared.

Pushing yourself up onto your feet, you dashed away from the beast without looking back. You couldn’t risk it.

“AAAAAAHH!!” The final cry turned into a snarl. White smoke puffed from the beasts nose as he panted in exhaustion. Prowling on all four huge, clawed paws, the beasts limbs trembled as his muscles linked back around his previously broken bones. His senses where on overdrive. Every barely auditable rustle sounded like a fog horn to the beasts ears, gentle smells of the primeval forest burned his flared nostrils like fire, and the delicate moonlight blinded his nocturnal eyes like the shine of a thousand suns.

Growling, the beast pawed at his face. Instead of meeting a beard and a soft, dimpled nose, his hand came in contact with a big, hairy snout.

A choked cry left the beasts mouth as he began to understand what had happened. Snarling at his foolishness, his powerful paw slammed to the floor, making a dent in the wet earth bellow.

Rolling his neck, he felt his bones settle in his joints, and he pushed himself up on his hind legs. Standing a few inches taller than he did only a few minutes earlier, the beast focused his senses. Slipping into the skin of the predator, he sniffed at the air. A bitter taste of fear lingered around him. Following his nose, his keen eye inspected the billowing scarf suspended from the branch a few feet ahead of him. He scanned the wool intently as his wolven feet stalked towards it. His head tilted to the side in fascination. Lowering himself down onto all four, his clawed hands gently hit the forest floor. Pushing his body forward, he eagerly sniffed at the scarf, his ears slicked back against his mighty head. A heady scent blinded his mind. The delicate, feminine aroma, paired with the tame cinnamon spice had the beast purring. Shoving his snout further against the soft wool, the beast latched onto your scent. His ears perked up and flicked from left to right, trying to locate your whereabouts. Heavy panting and hammering foot steps caught his attention. There you are. Crawling out from beneath the scarf, the beasts eyes widened. A predatory glint sparkled in his midnight black eyes. With an aroused snarl, the beast bared his pointed teeth, and ran his long tongue over them. Submitting to the hunt, he snapped his jaws at the nippy air and let out a deep bark, before he leaped forward and dashed towards the racing heartbeat and the bitter sweet scent of his prey.

A thunderous roar reverberated through the kingdom of Porvata. Frightened to your very core, you fired a quick glance behind you, in hopes of seeing where the sound came from, because it sounded like it came from everywhere. Your muscles were aching, and the blood rushing through your veins was all you could hear… not the sound of leaping and scampering of a large beast behind you.

He could have so easily caught up with you, so easily took you down, but he held back, he let you run as fast and far as you liked. He was wearing you down. The chase was for more exhilarating for the beast. The adrenaline pumping through your veins sweetened your blood. Making your skin smell so much more fragrant and arousing to him.

You ran until your body could push no more. Your foot slammed into a hefty rock as you tried to leap over it, and you tumbled to floor, wrapping yourself in leaves and twigs as your body rolled across the forest debris.

Scurrying up from the moist earth onto your knees, you looked up. The huge, furry, snarling beast was crouched only a foot or two away from you. “O-oh, g-god,” you stuttered out, your shoulders trembling in now, paralysing fear. The beast, you could have sworn, grinned at your terror. His lips curled up over his pink gums and he bared his canines at you. His tongue flicked out and licked his nose as he grumbled deep in his chest. The fur at his nape bushed up, as did the coat at the base of his spine, where a thick, shaggy tail stood at attention. His claws dug into the earth below him before, slowly, he began to raise himself up. Higher and higher, he stood. His body rolling up with his spine until finally, the beast stood on his hind legs. Tall and proud.

Your mouth fell agape. Your eyes took in the size of the beast. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t mesmerised by the creature. As tall as a bear he was. Below his fur coat, you could see he was covered in thick, powerful muscle. Your core fluttered.

Sniffing at the air, the beasts ears slicked back against his head. His dark eyes scanned you frame, before a low, rumbling growl vibrates from his chest. The noise made your thighs tremble and you breath hitch in the back of your throat. What was that? Taking a slow, calculated step towards you, the beast purred loudly at you. A warm tingle rippled through your body, making you feel like you were being covered in runny honey. A sigh left you lips as the weight of your body slumped into your bones. This feels- “Oh,” you moaned out loud, your eyes closing for a split second at the sensation gliding down your spine.

A beastly growl snapped your eyes open. The beast had come closer. And he was still advancing towards you, slowly.

Shaking your head, you attempted to push your mind out of the misty haze it had been trapped in. Pushing down on the earth, you tried lifting your weight up from the ground, but your body failed to listen. As you brought you feet up into a crouch, the gentle breeze caused you to fall back, landing you on your rear. “Ooft,” you huffed drunkenly. Lifting your heavy eyes back up to the beast, your gaze didn’t go higher than his waist. A fine, girthy cock bounced proudly from the curly forest of fur between the beasts hips, as he prowled towards you. You let out a gasp, a spike of fear clawed dully at your chest. “Succumb to him,” the breeze called, as it danced through your locks.

“Succumb…” you repeated, falling down further into the leaves with your back.

The beasts bubbly, deep purr rattled through your core and your head pressed further into the crisp leaves as your spine arched. Your knees parted and lulled to either side of you, waiting to cradle the beast between them.

Bending his knees, the beast dropped onto all four, and crawled towards your awaiting form. Lowering his head, the beast dragged his snout over the curve of your knee, and trailed his nose down your soft thigh. You could feel the warm puffs of air through your jeans, and you hummed in delight. The beasts nose glided over your mound, and he purred into your skin. You felt his chest vibrate with your knee as he snaked further up your body. Grazing his claws up your thighs, following the trail of his nose, he gripped onto the hem of your jeans firmly. His sharp claws ripped into the material concealing your nakedness from him, before with a harsh yank, he ripped open the front of your jeans and ripping the seems down both sides of your inner thighs. Leaving your cunt on full display, which only added to your yearning. Gasping at the savage behaviour, you clenched around nothing, feeling your arousal trickle down onto the forest floor beneath you.

He growled gently, deep in his throat, as your aroma filled his nose, while he climbed up your torso. He planted one big clawed paw next to your head, and the other beside your waist to keep himself elevated. Out of pure instinct your hand came up to grab is thick, hairy wrist, while the other hooked onto his firm waist.

The beast settled his hips between your thighs and ground his hard cock against your sopping slit. You hummed in delight as your spine arched further up, pressing your heaving breasts against his solid, hairy chest. The beast snarled above you, his strong arm wrapped around your back, locking you in place while his other remained in your grasp. Whining, the beast nipped and licked at your exposed neck with him warm, wet tongue. The lewd action made you sigh in the beasts embrace.

“That’s right, my children,” the breeze hummed, “become one.”

You felt the warm bulbous tip of the beast stroke up and down through your dewy folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your mouth fell agape as you waited for the beast to finally sink into your wet cove. The beast panted against your ear and his arm tightened it’s hold on you, before slowly, he pushed forward. Your eyes tightly sealed shut as you gasped at the intrusion. The beast stretched your walls painfully slow while purring into your ear. The pain became a dull thrum as your mind went fuzzy, and all you could feel were the veins and curve of the beasts cock as it dove deeper and deeper into your cunt. A deep moan slipped from your lips as he fully sank into your heat. An animalistic snarl bared his teeth against your neck as your walls clenched around his shaft.

Gripping your waist, the beast pulled his hips back, slowly drawing himself back out of you, and before you could whine at the loss of fullness he provided, the beast thrust back in to the hilt. Your whine became a yelp, and your thighs snapped tightly around his hips. The beast growled, raising himself up onto his knees, his paws gripped either side of your hips. Keeping your hips flushed together, he lifted your hips up into the air as he ground himself into you. Your whole body aside from you head lifted off the forest floor, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt him press firmly against the sensitive spot inside you. Holding you steady, the beast pulled back his hips, before slid back in with a hard, deep thrust. Keeping up that pace, slow and deep, he used the grip he had on you to pull you back and forth onto his shaft till your thighs were trembling around him and you were panting. Lowering your hips back down onto the ground, the beast curled his arms around the back of your waist, and held you tight as he sped up his attack on your weeping cunt. “Ah, AH!” you howled, your hands gripped the beasts back and you dug your kitten claws into his skin. A pained snarl erupted from behind his teeth and his pace turned punishing. Your pants became cries as you felt your body start to writhe with pleasure in the arms of the beast. A white hot sensation bloomed in your feet. Wrapping your fingers in the beast fur, you tugged hard as the feverish tingle crawled up your calves. The beast roared and slammed hard into you. You felt his shaft thicken inside you as the cold heat tingled across your tense thighs. Your spine arched as far as it could and the searing pleasure rippled through your body in waves. White stars exploded in your vision, blinding you as your cried out into the night sky. With one last mighty thrust, the beast sunk himself as deep as he could inside you, and his thick shaft spurted his creamy release into your pulsing walls. The beast roared one last time as he ground into you, his pubic bone pressed against you sensitive clit and you squealed at the over sensitiveness as you trembled with the aftershocks of your rapture.

Your innocent squeak however, quickly turned into a blood-curdling scream, as the beast bent his head and pierced your skin with his razor sharp teeth. He bit the flesh between you neck and shoulder, and sunk his teeth in deep. You could feel the thick, warm trail of your blood running down your shoulder. Fat, hot tears spilled down your temple, as your hand latched around the beast ear and tugged hard. The beast yelped but didn’t let up. You wailed at the pain and your voice turned deep. Inhumanly deep, like you had something stuck in your throat. Snapping your eyes open, your vision was red and a powerful feeling rushed through your veins like you had just been given an electric shock. It made you feel alive. The breeze picked up it strength, and howled in your ears. It almost sounded like a cry.

The beast unlocked his jaw, and let out a fierce roar that shook every tree to it’s core. With a thundering roar of your own… you joined him.

…

Waking up from your slumber, you blinked the blurry sleep out of your eyes. Pressing your face into your pillow, you stretched your legs out, taking the top of the duvet off your shoulder. You hummed happily at the sound of the radio softly playing in the background.

“I see the bad moon a-rising.” Your body sank back into the mattress for another 5 minutes.

“I see trouble on the way.” Your ears picked up a soft rustling a few feet behind you.

“I see earthquakes and lightning.” You would have dismissed the rustling for your cat’s mischief.

“I see bad times today.” But your nose picked up the mouth watering scent of freshly baked bread and soothing rosemary. One you could not ignore.

“Don't go around tonight. Well, it's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise.” Turning around to face the cabin, you quickly realised that this bed did not belong to you. A comforting scent of pine and cloves surrounded you like a heavy blanket. Confusion furrowed your eyebrows, as your gaze fell on the broad, naked back of a very tall, bear-looking man. Standing across the room at the kitchen counter, he busied himself with something in front of him. The firm muscle plastered across his shoulders rippled with tension as he moved his arms.

“I hear hurricanes a-blowing.” You pushed you body up, sitting cross legged on the bed as you observed the man. A dark, messy mane of curls covered the top of his head and tickled his nape.

“I know the end is coming soon,” the mans soft, deep rumble hummed along to the radio. A smile tugged at your lips. The manly drawl of his song made your bones feel weak.

“Don't go around tonight,”he sang. He seemed so care-free with you, a stranger in his bed. Your eyes glided down the mans bare back, admiringly. “Well, it's bound to take your life.” His skin was pale. And he was built strong. “There's a bad moon,” your gaze drifted down to the angry red claw marks on the base of his back, and it hit you, “on the rise.” The beast. Your heart stuttered.

The song began to break up and the radio began to crackle. You held your breath. Turning around, the man reached for the antenna and twiddled it till the song came back and the crackling ceased. You took in his feature. He was beautiful. His eyebrows were thick and bushy, just like his beard. His skin was smooth, and as pale as the moon herself… he looked tired. Purple decorated the soft slopes bellow his round eyes.

The soft instrumental sections filled the cabin. The memory rushed back. Your hand reached up to your neck, caressing your skin, you felt no wound, no blood, no pain. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. How? Your movement caught the eye of the shirtless man. He turned his head in your direction. Without a word, his azure eyes scanned your form. You felt a delicate tingle under your skin where his gaze landed. He was calm, and seemed please with his observation.

It all started to make sense. The breeze, the haze, the bite, and this connection.

Grabbing the plate from the counter top, he gingerly made his way toward the bed. You felt strangely at ease in his presence. A complete contrast to how you had felt last night.

Cautiously, the man perched himself on the end of the bed, half expecting you to scurry away. When you didn’t, the corner of his lips twitched into a small smile. He placed the plate in your lap. Cottage cheese and jam was swirled atop two slices of rosemary bread. Your stomach grumbled in acceptance as your mouth watered. “I’m Walter,” he broke the silence. The drone of his voice made you shiver. His wide eyes gazed into your soul, and you could swear you could hear the thump of his heart. It was fast. The deep wrinkles on his forehead that he got from raising his eyebrows at you like a puppy, had you melting into a puddle of adoration. A low rumble rolled off your tongue, surprising Walter as you saw his cheeks flush. He looked a little uncomfortable. He was waiting on your reaction. Probably expecting the worst. You stifled a giggle. “Rena,” you extended your hand out for him to shake. Confusion flashed across his face, and a little uneasily, he clasped his large hand around your much smaller one, and shook it hesitantly. Was he afraid of you? “No. Well, maybe a little,” he spoke bashfully. Wait.

“Trust him,” the light breeze echoed through the cabin while wind hissed outside. That’s when it hit you. The myths, the curse. Oh, Walter...

“Weird circumstances, huh?” you asked, a sheepish smile on your face.

Walter chuckled, and a small smile brightened up his face. Your heart warmed at the sight. “Weird is an understatement,” he huffed, rubbing his hands together nervously. You reached your arm out and held his hand. Looking into his eyes, you gave him a warm smile. We’re in it together now. Walter sighed in relief, his shoulders sagged, releasing the tension they had been holding.

“There's a bad moon on the rise,” whistled the wind.

Sinful!Henry waking you up with an orgasm.

Summary: Ever so in love with you, he can’t hold back and decides to please you even in your sleep.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (2nd person POV)

Words: 650

Warnings: 18+, RPF, smut, somnophilia, fingering, female orgasm, male erection, hinted sexual intercourse, savouring on bodily fluids, body worship, male POV, Freya’s use of poetic sex metaphors.  

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own

N/A: Decided to try something different, told from a male pov while it’s still reader inserted. Not beta’d; we die with our typos like August getting hit with a hook, falling off a cliff and crashing into an explosion. Divider by @firefly-graphics 

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

Midnight Glow.

The shades of a midnight glow veiled you, slumber an unjust kiss that kept you away from my bewildered gaze. Leaning on my forearm to watch you sleep, I was in awe, but of course, forever will I be taken by your deity.  

My dear love. My definition of beauty. 

Not wishing to wake you from your sleep, I carefully reached a knuckle to brush upon your cheek - the surface of your skin so supple it felt like silk. The faintest flutter waved through your lashes, and a dark crease parted your lips though you did not wake.

"Are you dreaming?" I whispered while carefully, my hand glided below the blanket shielding your perfect body. God, your flesh simmered below my palm as if my trail left a path of blazing flames behind it. I took your left breast and gave it a light squeeze, my thumb massaging your hardening nipple, making the beat of your heart quicken, and a shudder of breath left your quivering lips.

"Are you dreaming about us?"

A part of me wanted to wake you, to sink between your parted legs and make slow love to you, but I couldn't resist the temptation of bringing you to ecstasy within the tendrils of a delirium. 

My hand continued to survey down the valley of your torso, following the warmth calling me from between your thighs. I leaned closer with my upper body, almost hovering from above while two long fingers parted your soft petals, and my thumb found the jewel hidden at your apex. I wanted to breathe in the silent moans that escaped your lips as slowly my thumb began to draw languid circles over your clit. 

The moan that cracked from your throat thrummed through my lungs, and just then, I felt dew pooling at the honeyed crease that longed for my penetration. 

"I love you," I uttered and kissed below your eyes. The pillowy pads of my digits traced the seams of your dripping slit, raking the smooth wetness on and on before entering your succulent cove.

Little wrinkles formed in your brow. You moaned even harder, your entire body writhing and coiling, spine rising from the matters with the invasion of my fingers into your heavenly cunt. It almost seemed as if you would levitate, possessed by the spirits of pleasure I provoked within you. In and out, I continued to tease your clit by my thumb and pumped in you, my cock stirring in unfulfilled desire to conquer while your hot canal milked around my fingers.     

Hanging between fantasy and consciousness, you bucked your hips into my hand and called by my name. 

"Henry..."

Enamoured, I entered you knuckles-deep, pressing into the sensitive spot that made you quake with rapture. Finally, your beautiful eyes flared open, your mouth did too as your pussy clamped around me. I could feel you spasming against my hand, the tidal convulsion of your ecstasy spurring before you fell back to pillow gasping with astonishment. 

"Good morning...?" you panted, looking at me semi-amused and semi-stunned.

Leaning in, I drank the mead of your lips and brushed my nose over yours. 

"Actually, it's the middle of the night..." I retorted with a sheepish grin and then slowly slid my fingers out and brought your elixir to my mouth. 

Your sharp fangs grazed the pillow of your bottom lip as I savoured on your taste. Impressed by my devotion, you ran your hands down my abdomen, weaving through the hair of my body. 

"Then why did you wake me?" 

"Couldn't sleep again," I shrugged and groaned as I felt your nails scratching below my navel.

"Well, it seems like someone else is up. Should I... fuck you to sleep?"

I smiled groggily and flipped onto my back, letting you climb onto my body and take the reins.

The last thing we were going to do tonight was sleep. 

Yes, professor

A/N: I watched Sandcastle. I’m ruined.

Feedback feeds the soul, my loves! Requests are always open.

MASTERLIST

HENRY CAVILL + CHARACTERS MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairings: College!Professor!Cap. Syverson x female reader (no descriptiors)

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI, please), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, creampie, unprotecetd sex, language, age gap (reader is over 18)

Everybody knew Professor Syverson. There wasn’t a soul on campus, who didn’t - even the new students knew about him, and hushed whispers about him rang through the halls at all times.

Mostly the women talked about his thighs, his arms and his crooked smile. He was a retired captain from the army and got a tenure to teach modern history 1 at your college, and had apparently made the entire faculty and student body lose their collective minds.

You hadn’t been to a class of his yet, but you knew him. He was a force in the hallways, a big, somewhat scary demeanour that made people in the halls part like the red sea. He was handsome in that brooding, bulking way and you had spotted him several times having to go through doorways sideways. He terrified you slightly. A lot of people also said he was a hard professor, both to impress but also in his teachings - he took no shit, no being late, nothing and you had wondered if the military ever really left anybody.

So when your finally got your classes for this semester, you had groaned and instantly regretted to take the stupid class in the first place, but when you signed up, i was professor Castle who had taught, a gentle, sweet man in his late 50’s.

You decided to at least try to join a class or two before asking to be transferred to another class. There was no reason to write it off before you’d even tried it.

The only problem now? You were late. By ten minutes. You had rushed through the halls, chest heaving and now, as you stood in front of the door to the lecture hall, you were seriously considering just skipping it.

Instead you grabbed the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside and hurried to an empty seat - which, of course, only was on the front rows. Wonderful.

“Miss Y/L/N, did you not read my mail?” His voice rang clear as day through the hall. It was stern and dark, and he hadn’t even looked up from his papers. You grimaced and sat down, wondering briefly how he knew your name before remembering his list of students - you were probably the only one who wasn't present as he called out names.

“Sorry.” “Not good enough. I’ll let it slide for this time…” He looked to you, stopping himself mid sentence as his eyes roamed your chest and face, a devious smile playing at the corner of his lips. “But I’ll need you to see me in my office after hours.” You nodded and bit your lip. Great, not even a week into the semester, and you were already going to get written up.

“Think you can manage getting there on time?” Your face was burning.

“Yes, sir.” “Good girl.” Your breath hitched at the voice it almost sounded like praise and his southern drawl made his voice smoother than whiskey.

“Now, back to the Second Congo War…”

---------------------------

You had been writhing in your seat during the full lecture. He kept glancing at you, that fucking smile on his lips, exposing his teeth slightly and it made you feel hot every time you saw a flash of his fucking fangs. He must’ve known how you were feeling, because he constantly called on you and you were wildly unprepared for a quiz.

His arms were bulging against the buttoned, light blue shirt he was wearing, and a part of you wondered if a quick movement would rip the fabric in half as he crossed his arms and leaned against the desk in the middle of the room. You kept zoning out, focusing more on his arms, thighs and that one goddamn vein in his neck that kept popping out.

He had caught you staring a few times and each time, a smirk had graced his lips and he had cleared his throat, making your cheeks burn and you to look down as quickly as you could.

“Alright, get caught up to the reading, I’ll have your goddamn heads if you show up unprepared tomorrow. Y/L/N, down here.” He said as the class finished beckoning you down with a finger, his eyes on the papers on the table. You walked down to him, painfully aware of your bare legs and the triangle of slick that had gathered in your underwear during class.

“Ms. Y/L/N.” He looked at you with a lifted eyebrow. “I don’t tolerate students being late.” He said, sitting down and crossing his leg over his knee, leaning back - he looked fucking dangerously sinful. “I’m sorry, I got lost in the hall…” You started. “I don’t care. If I have class, you’re here.” You nodded. “If I call your name, you better answer correctly, darlin’, or I’ll have your ass.” You felt your cheeks heat up yet again. “Yes, sir.” His eyes gleamed. “My office. 30 minutes.” He dictated and you didn’t dare do anything else but nod again. “Yes, sir.”

He dismissed you with a wave of his hand and you quickly left, cheeks on fire and an unsettling heat in your stomach.

You went straight to the bathroom, splashing water on your face and adjusted your shirt. “Get it the fuck together.” You whispered to yourself before rushing to the cafeteria and bought a bottle of water, chugging it and glanced at the clock. You might as well be early.

You sat on the wooden chair outside of his office, watching the time tick away, and a minute before time was up, you stood, smoothed your skirt down, drew a deep breath and knocked.

“Yes?” His voice rang out. You walked inside and shut the door behind you. “Lock it.” You followed orders, although you were unsure why.

He had shed his blue shirt and sat in a tattered Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt that splayed across his chest - it looked like it was about to pop at the seams.

“Sit.” You did and looked at him, your hands folded in your lap. He let his eyes wander your body, resting shortly at the swell of your breasts. He stood up and leaned over the desk, his face inches from yours. He was intoxicating, his blue eyes hard and a scent of harpics and pine lingered over him.

“Do you know why you’re here?” He asked in a brash voice. You nodded and he narrowed his eyes. “Words.” He practically spat at you.

“Yes, sir.” “Why?” You shifted a little in the chair, and felt your skirt ride up - you saw his eyes quickly dart to the exposed skin.

“I was late.” He hummed and stepped around the desk to stand against it in front of you. “And?” You frowned. And what? “I’m sorry?” He crossed his arms.

“And you weren’t focused or prepared for class.” You sighed. “I’m really sorry, I had an off day, and I…” You trailed off at the glare he sent you. He pushed off of the desk and placed his hands on the chair, capturing you in between his arms.

“I don’t care if you watched your dog die in front of you, you either tell me you aren’t prepared or aren't showing up, or you. Fucking. Show. Up.” His voice was dangerously low.

“Yes, sir.” He drew a deep breath and sent you a smirk that made you squeeze your thighs together - which didn’t go unnoticed by him. He chuckled darkly.

“Am I making you feel some type of way, Y/L/N?” you bit your lip. “Sir, I’m…” He swallowed hard, eyes trained on your heaving chest. “I saw how you were looking at me during class.” He stated. You nodded, not bothering to lie or deny. “You have a dirty mind, Y/N?” He asked in a low voice, the sound of your name rolling off his tongue made you shiver.

“Yes.” “Yes, what?” His hand was on your arm now. “Yes, sir.” He grinned dangerously and dipped his head to yours, lips almost touching. “Good girl.”

In a fraction of a second, he had you on your feet, turned you around and pushed you against the desk, his hands on your chest - you mewled at the feeling of his rough fingers tugging harshly on your pointed nipples, and his fingertips travelled quickly from your clothed nipples to the top of your shirt. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Are you attached to this shirt?” “Uhm, a little…” He ripped it straight down the middle and smiled wickedly at you. “Not anymore.” Now, with your breasts free, he attacked you again, fingers nimbly rolling and tugging your nipples as your head fell back and you moaned.

“You’re a fucking dirty girl, aren’t you?” He whispered, letting one hand wander down to the edge of your skirt, inching it up.

“If you don’t want this, you better fucking tell me now, because I aint goin’ back after going up here.” He grumbled, the tips of his fingers grazing your heat. You groaned. “I want this, sir.” You moaned, arching your back.

“You’re fucking dripping.” He rumbled and pushed you to sit on the desk, spreading your legs and pushing your thong to the side, slipping a finger inside of you and without pause, he started to pump his finger, curling it against your g-spot.

You felt dirty, halfway laying, halfway sitting on his desk, spread out in front of him, as his mouth found your nipple - you groaned and rolled your hips against his fingers, the sound of your wet, throbbing pussy almost filling the room.

“Shit…” He said, grabbing your hair and forcing you to look at him as he added another thick finger, his eyes boring into yours.

“You want to be fucked by your professor?” he asked lowly, dragging against your walls. You nodded and he pounded his fingers in you, making you gasp soundlessly. The palm of his hand rested on your clit, pressing down on it and your legs twitched around him, close to falling into pleasure. “What did I fucking tell you, dirty girl?” He growled, pressing harder down on your clit as he impaled you on his fingers. “Fuck!” You couldn’t focus on what he wanted from you, feeling yourself teetering on the edge, almost exploding in pleasure. “Use. Your. Fucking. Words.” Every word was punctuated by another deep plunge into you.

“Yes! Yes, fuck me, please!” You gritted through your teeth. “Want to come on my fingers, darlin’?” he almost commanded you to do it. “Yes…” “Yes, what?” He growled. You rolled your hips against him, every nerve in you was on fire.

“Fuck, yes, sir!” He picked up the pace and bit your bottom lip, pulling at it slightly before letting it go and his eyes burned into you.

“Come for me.” You exploded around his fingers, feeling yourself gush over his fingers as you moaned and writhed under him, riding your orgasm out on his fingers shamelessly.

He didn’t give you time to come down, but slid his fingers out from you and grabbed your hips, lifting you from the desk and turning you over, bending you over the desk as he pushed your skirt up, bundling it on your hips and pushed your chest down into the cool wood.

“You’re dripping for me, huh?” He whispered. You moaned as you heard his zipper go, and your body tensed in anticipation.

“I’m goin’ to fucking punish you now.” He growled, his hand falling on your exposed ass, eliciting a squeal from you. He wasn’t holding back.

“Count ’em.” He rumbled as his hand went harshly to your ass, once, twice, five and ten times. At the end, your slick was almost running down your legs and tears were welling in your eyes. He chuckled. “Want me?” He was so fucking collected, it almost made you angry. “Yes, sir, please.” Your voice was needy as he pushed the tip against your folds. “You’re so wet, you like bein’ punished, huh?” You could hear his smirk. “By you, sir.” You were skirting a line, you shouldn’t, and you knew it. He groaned and pushed into you, stretching you to an uncomfortable degree. “Fuck, you’re too big…” You moaned as he forced his length deeper, but he just chuckled. “You’ll take me.” He rumbled and pushed against your cervix. He moaned, the sound sending flames licking up and down your skin, and he didn’t give you time to adjust - he began dragging his length against your walls in a speed that was impossible for you to handle. Filthy sounds rolled from your mouth as he fucked you hard with his thick cock, his groans matcing you. His fingers went to your nipples and tugged them harshly. You bucked under him and he picked up the pace.

His left hand went to your ass, cupping, grabbing and diggin his fingers into it, and his hips stuttered against you. “I’m going to fill you, and you’re going to take it, hear me?” He mumbled between moans, rutting hard against you. “Yes, sir.” He groaned and leaned over you, his chest flush with your back and his teeth found your sensitive skin right at the junction of your throat and shoulder. You mewled and bucked your hips, the orgasm slamming into you as a freight train.

He roared as he came, filling you with his spend fucking you until your legs buckled under you. He pulled out, chuckling at the sight of your spent hole, throbbing and leaking. He smacked your ass for good measure before zipping his pants.

You pulled your skirt down and sighed unhappily at the sight of your ruined shirt. You were going to have a shitty time walking through campus. He quirked his eyebrow at you and handed you his blue shirt. You looked at it, dumbfounded.

“It’s just a shirt.” You took it with a small smile.

“Thank you, sir.” He cupped your face in his hand and finally kissed you. It was soft and surprisingly chaste considering his cum was currently leaking out of you.

“You can call me Logan when we’re here.”

-------------------------------------

TAGLIST:

@acaceta @summersong69 @luclittlepond @keiva1000

@a-skov @thatonechickhere @summersong69 @themanfromu

@spookyboogyuniverse @one-sweet-gubler @timetraveller4

@angelmather1 @kebabgirl67 @yourlocalhoney

Tame Me If You Can. (Captain Syverson x You)

Description: Being a beauty with brains, you had enjoyed attention your whole life. So when your neighbour Captain Syverson didn't give in to your charms and brat behavior, refusing to follow you around like a puppy as all the other guys did, the man really started to get on your nerves. And then all of a sudden he just went off to war one day?! Like. Seriously, how dare he?! But now he is finally back and this time around, you are not sure if you can hold back the pent up frustration for much longer. 

Type: Oneshot. 

Disclaimer: I do not own the character Captain Syverson. Contains dark content, you've been warned. This is all fiction and fantasy. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Dash of breeding kink, spit kink, biting, scratching, spanking, brat!reader, brat!tamer Syverson, degradation, manhandling, size kink, age gap (Y/n is a uni student), begging, overstimulation, obvi Dom!Sy, Sub!You (female reader), hair pulling, inspection kink, humiliation, slightly sadistical Sy (?), fingering, cunnilingus, cum play, idk filthy shit. 

Note: I feel like this is a mess but lmao so am I so it's fine ig. Anyways Captain Syverson is a brat tamer who likes it the nastiest it can get and you cannot convince me otherwise thank you.

"Basement, thank you" Captain Syverson sometimes couldn't help his habit of giving out commands even when it wasn't needed or in some cases, welcomed. His teeth trapped a small bit of his bottom lip in between them to confine the smile that was threatening to dominate his features because he knew exactly what was coming next. 

"Don't tell me what to do, this isn't your barracks or whatever" you shot back before rolling your eyes and huffing, begrudgingly punching in the button despite the brat in you telling you to press some other floor purely out of spite. But the laundry basket in your hands would just make you look like an idiot and there was only one of that in this elevator and that wasn't you. 

"Sorry, ma'am" your fists curled at his nonchalant words and you rolled your eyes. 

Just how hard was it for him to give you the attention you craved and quite frankly deserved? Why didn't he follow you around the apartment complex like a lost puppy running your errands for you like the other guys?! 

Other guys that you didn't even want! 

"Your minions didn't do your laundry for you while you were busy saving the world?" You shot his basket a dirty look, scoffing and waiting for him to respond -give in- like your parents always did before handing you whatever it was that you desired. 

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open, granting you access to the basement where there was a common laundry in the middle of the huge space with the storage cells along the sides. Your nostrils flared up when Sy simply snorted at your attempt to provoke him before stepping out of the elevator, once again denying you the attention you so desperately craved as he entered the area with you in tow. 

You couldn't take it anymore, not that you'd ever admit it yourself. Sy had attracted you the first time you saw him with his laid back and composed demeanor, offering you no more than friendly smiles in the hallways and elevators whenever you would run into each other, giving you just enough to stay hooked but not enough so that you were satisfied. 

Being the person that you were, -although you would never admit it to yourself- that became the reason why you would then go on a journey to try to start shit with him every chance you got, failing each time when he'd handle it like an adult while treating you in a way that would make you feel no older than a whiny child instead of giving you the kind of attention you wanted. 

Just what kind of attention you wanted from him you didn't know either and instead of figuring it out like the adult that you were, you had resorted to doing what you did best; bratting. 

"That's it!" You huffed and tossed your basket on the floor before stomping across the room to the washing station Sy was using, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips. "What are you doing?!"

"Huh…?" Taking one earbud off, the military raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to repeat the words his music had blocked out. 

"Ugh!" You snatched his iPod away, only succeeding because he wasn't expecting it. "What is your problem, huh?! What are you doing?!" Slamming the gadget down on one of the washing machines, you turned towards Sy to glare back up at him. 

"Doing my laundry, ma'am…?" His obliviousness fired you up even more. 

"No you're very obviously not!" The man bit his lip at how loud your voice was, taking a silent deep breath to maintain his composure. 

"I am not?" 

"No!" 

"Then what is it that you think I am doing?" Your breath hitched and defiance wavered the moment he placed his hand on the machine next to you and leaned down to get a better look at you, nonchalant to the proximity between your bodies. 

"Y- You… you…" Raising an eyebrow, Sy encouragingly nodded, waiting for you to finish. "Y- You're annoying me!" 

"I am sorry for the inconvenience, ma'am. I will try not to do that" giving you a brief apologetic nod, the man reached for his iPod as his body leaned back to his full stature again. 

"Is it really that fucking hard for you to see?! Are you gay?!" Sy wasn't born yesterday. In fact, he was born a great deal before you. 

Of course he knew. The entire apartment complex did. You did a good job at making your little crush as obvious as it could get. 

He just wanted you to give in and say it. Straightening brats like you was his favorite leisure. 

"See what?" You felt like screaming at this point. He couldn't possibly be serious. 

"You know what, Syverson?" Before rational thoughts and reason could stop you, your smaller hand had already fisted his tank up from the middle as you pulled him towards you -only succeeding because he leaned in himself- before standing on the tips of your toes. "Fuck it." The moment your lips crashed against his and your upper lips got tickled by his beard, you moaned. 

His minty breath tasted so good. 

Your approach was enough to set Syverson off as his bigger and rough hands grabbed at your hips, roughly groping them before he pulled you closer to his hard chest, pushing his tongue in your mouth and exploring the wet cavern. 

The pent up sexual frustration had you both grabbing and clawing at each other wherever you could reach, hungrily eating at each other's mouths and exchanging breaths while your hips grinded together. 

"Fuck-" you panted against his mouth when you had to unwillingly break apart for air at last, whimpering when your body was manhanlded to press against one of the machines. "So you did fucking want me too!" Rolling your eyes, you pushed at his shoulders. "So much for acting all cool and uninterested."

Sy chuckled as his hands felt your body all over. "Rule number one of dealing with brats," flipping you over and pushing down on your upper back so now you were bent over the gadget, a loud squeak escaped you when a sharp spank landed on your ass, causing one of your feet to shoot up in defense. "Don't give them attention" the hairs on your nape rose when he pulled your head back by wrapping one hand around your hair and near his lips before whispering words in your ear from behind, the other one fondling your clothed ass. 

"That's fucking bullshit" another squeak escaped you when a sharper slap accompanied the previous one on your other ass cheek. 

"Watch your language, you brat" rough fingertips hooked in the hem of your short shorts, pausing briefly in their stance for your consent and only stripping the bottom half of your body nude when you nodded and pushed your ass back towards his body. "Now what do we have here" heat pooled up in the base of your stomach as you felt your ovaries flip, goosebumps forming on your skin as he ran his rough fingers down the length of your legs. 

"Mmmm~" you moaned, loving how controlled and small you felt for once where your bratting wasn't being given into, cheeks burning in sweet humiliation when another punishing spank landed on your ass, tiny drops of arousal climbing their way down your entrance. 

"Is this cute ass all mine?" The back of your thighs trembled when you felt Sy spread your legs even more, pulling open your slightly sore cheeks to a point where you felt a slight stretch in your pucker before he took a quick sniff of your sex like an animal, the action making you gasp in surprise as sweat broke out on your skin due to the sensation of his facial hair tickling the skin of your bare behind. "Is it?" Another spank landed when you failed to respond as you were too busy biting back your moans. 

"Y- Yes! Yes! It is!" You whined shamelessly, pouting as you slightly swayed your hips the best you could in his beast-like grip, trying to find yourself some stimulation. 

"Hmm, look at this cute little pucker" Sy chuckled, tracing the said hole and adjusting his crouching position when the tent inside his pants started to poke against its restraints uncomfortably. "And this wet little cock pocket" your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he pushed past your squishy folds and teased your entrance that had only ever been violated by your fingers or a dildo. "Aw, it's blinking for me" your cheeks warmed up in embarrassment. "How cute and surprisingly obedient." 

"Stoop!" You huffed and kicked one of your feet. "Gimme more!" 

Sy cocked an eyebrow, distancing himself from your body before standing back up. "You think you call the shots here?" His laugh was full of mock and disbelief as he landed a set of painful spanks against your ass, gulping down the bile forming in his throat when you yelped and gasped with each hit, Sy grabbing your hair once more when he was satisfied with the dark pink appearing on your skin as a result of the spanking. 

Your arms trembled and jolted away from their place when you felt his warm breath against your ear again, head tipped back to hear him loud and clear by the help of your own hair. "You seem to be mistaken, slut." A strangled cry escaped your dry throat when he squeezed one of your freshly spanked cheeks painfully hard, pressing his teeth down on the skin of your shoulder until you cried once again, murmuring a plea. "Pathetic brats like you don't get to decide what happens to them." His words were harsh in your ear as he grinded his hips against your sore ass, his hard bulge stroking your crack, one hand stroking the inside of your thigh as the other pinched one or your nipples over your shirt. "They welcome whatever comes their way and thank their Master."

"S- Sorry, Sy" you whimpered, the brat backing down because of how powerless you felt against him, slightly turning your head to try and reason with him by using your puppy eyes. "P- Please, more… Need more" this time it was your pussy lips that suffered a painful pinch before scolding words followed. 

"It's sir for brats like yourself, tsk. You really need some training" shaking his head, Syverson spanked you one last time before flipping you back over to face him. "Look at you, so dumb. Still wearing a shirt in front of your Master like a thing such as yourself deserves any form of dignity" your insides were burning from his nasty words, not even your dirtiest fantasies ever having included this. 

But you'd be lying if you said you were complaining. The liquid flowing down your petals was evidence of your arousal. 

"S- Sorry, sir" without thinking twice, you pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it away, panting as your heart threatened to burst through your ribcage, the thumping in your pussy sending its ripples all the way up to your belly and down to your knees. 

"Hm. Not half bad" Syverson nodded as he took a hold of both your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples and fingers softly massaging the cushions of flesh. "Tsk, look at you. So shameless and pathetic. All nude in front of me like this in some basements. Such a whore you are, Y/n." His words made you realise the contrast between you two. 

Where Syverson was still fully clothed, you were a heaving and panting nude sweaty mess covered in your own juices. 

"But then again, isn't that why brats like you act up? So they can be stripped down to nothing like they're supposed to be and fucked back intheir rightful place, huh-"

"Then quit your fucking yapping and get to it, why don't you? Talking all big game like you know everything yet standing there like a fucking bitch while just running your mouth like this is your fucking barracks or some shit" you shot back, rolling your eyes and huffing, only not yet knowing that you really shouldn't have challenged him like this. "Just shut up and fuck me already before you've to fucking run off to war for months again, Jesus!" 

You had had enough of his fucking games. 

Syverson's eyes darkened. "Want to be fucked, huh?" 

"No fucking shit, Sherlock." You rolled your eyes again before letting out a loud gasp when you were thrown over his shoulder the very next moment. 

"Oh, I'll fuck you alright." Tapping your warm ass in a promising manner, the man punched his floor number on the elevator, a new kind of quietness present in his tone. Like a calm before a storm. "Also want me to fuck a baby in you, huh? So you know who you belong to when I am not home? So instead of whoring around while your man is at war you look at that growing bump and remember who's seed is growing inside you?" He had actually retired this time around but you didn't have to know that, yet. 

Frustrating you was Captain Syverson's favorite game.

"If you still have it in you, ancient one, sure." A giggle left you when he growled and punishingly bit the side of your thigh, heavy footsteps almost shaking the entire floor as he neared his apartment. 

"You need some serious discipline." Clicking his tongue in distaste, Sy placed you on his bed once you were the inside the foreign apartment and inside the master bedroom, the man kicking his shoes off and crawling on top of you before you could brat anymore, capturing your lips in his and moving you to the middle of the bed, one of his hands manhandling your thighs apart as his body fit itself in the middle. "Mouthy whores are no good."

"Oh yeah?" You challenged dumbly, resting your body on your elbows as a shaky wince left you, shudders gliding down your back one by one when his fingers brushed against your privates. "And what are you gonna do about it, Captain?" Sy snorted to himself knowingly, pushing you until your back was flat against the mattress only to make it arch up towards the ceiling when your folds were provided the friction they so desperately desired. 

Fuck. The man did it so well and better than you. His rough obviously uncared for fingers were much rougher and thicker than your softer and nimble ones, rubbing you in swift circles. 

"O- Ohhh… fuck!" Your left leg trembled as you stared at the ceiling, mouth parted as your torso pushed against the military's face who was kissing and sucking at the tender skin of your chest. "Oh… oh… I am close~!" Having not a lot of experience, you were already chasing your dawning orgasm, hips bucking up in the anticipation of the approaching bliss. 

"Cum" Syverson was slurping his own spit back up from one of your nipples, circling his tongue around it before biting down on the nub, making you cry out as your brain registered faint aches on your chest which were the result of the hickies the older had decorated your skin with. "Cum for me!" A strangled cry escaped you before your insides felt as if they bloomed, the relief of your arousal washing over you from being rubbed alone. 

A few moments passed as you stared at the ceiling, blinking away the stars in your vision while your hips that had subconsciously started to grind against his fingers slowed their movement until they eventually came to a halt. 

"W- What…?" You groggily blinked and looked down when your insides recoiled in defense and legs tried to close in response to your swollen clit still being stimulated but this time dangerously close to your opening. "S- Stooop~" you whined, not really meaning it as a faint torch ignited somewhere in your belly again, lips puffing into a pout when one of Sy's hands firmly pushed your thigh away from his face, causing you to whine out.

"Stop? But I thought you wanted to be fucked." The man innocently tilted his head to the side, totally not looking like a person pushing his first digit inside you would look as the humiliating squelch your pussy made got overshadowed by the yelp you let out, ass trying to move away from the military. 

"S- Sy-" you stopped when he shot you a warning look in form of a wicked and twisted smile, massaging the walls of your damp and tight cavern with his middle finger. "I mean- s- sir~" you pouted and let out another whine, feeling your sweat glands pour out cold liquid all over your body. 

"Don't tell me you've already had enough when I've barely even started?" Sy chuckled at you in disbelief, adding another finger as his thumb started drawing shapes on your folds, causing you to let out a strangled moan as you tried to move away again but who were you kidding, the man was thrice your size! "Wow, you sure are all talk for someone who mocks others for talking big game."

You didn't know whether to ask him to stop or beg him for more at this point. Conflicted between the rising heat between your legs and sweet but punishing sensation inside your walls, you were still trying to decide what you wanted -like Syverson cared- when you felt a blob of his spit land on your overstimulated flesh. 

"W- Wha- ohhh~" your eyes fluttered shut as your head fell back on the soft mattress, fingers gripping the sheets as your toes curled, mouth forming an 'O' which was followed by your hips bucking up when you felt the first swipe of his long tongue lap at the liquid. 

"They better not close" Syverson warned you in a deep and commanding voice, his usual gentle demeanor nowhere in sight as he warningly tapped your cold thigh with his free hand before moving it up north to toy with your breasts, mouth joining his fingers on your overstimulated pussy as he lapped and sucked at the juices and liquids, working you up for his cock because your tiny hole was to rip otherwise.

"O- Oh… oh, please!" You'd never been treated like this before. Both so dominated and pleasured. While the overstimulation made your organs want to double over and shrink, the pleasure building past them as Syverson kissed and sucked at the skin while jabbing three of his fingers all the way up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, his beard tickling your cheeks and petals had you nibbing on your lips in anticipation, heart hammering against its cage. 

An incoherent train of loud whines, moans, pleads, shudders, praises and cries was departing from your lips every moment as you gasped and panted for air, yelling out a profanity when you felt Sy's tongue replace his fingers inside your tight ring of muscles that was more flexible now, still trying to clench around the oral muscle to try and defend the invasion, your eyes hitting the back of your head and chest jutting upwards when you felt the tip of his tongue tickle your special spot.

"OH, FUCK! PLEASE, FUCK!" You shrieked, feeling your stomach flip as your vision blackened once again, the only sensation your body being able to make out the merciless thrusting of Sy's tongue as it fucked you deep and dumb, one of his thumbs abusing your labia the fastest it could, free hand holding your hysteric body down against the mattress by his palm laying flat on your belly. 

By the time Syverson pulled his tongue out after making sure your high had subsided, your hearing had been dominated by a faint whistling, whatever he was saying not really audible to you as you could make out his face as he peppered kisses all over your mouth, giving your lips a long and elaborate lick where he traced their shape. 

"Look at how good you taste, pet" the name didn't fail to tickle your worked up insides as he pushed his cum covered digits in your mouth, watching your flushed and tear stained face smugly as his free hand now worked to unleash his raging hard on. 

You weakly sucked on his digits, whining around them as your eyebrows came together when you felt his wet tip against your entrance. Syverson had distracted you with his little punishment so well that you'd completely forgotten about his cock that your body was both hesitant but at the same excited to take as that had been the main goal all this time. 

"H- Hurts, sir~" you whimpered when his fingers finally unplugged your mouth to allow you to breathe. 

"Oh, I know, my precious bunny" Sy tenderly stroked the hair pieces which were sticking to your face that he adored so much away, his smile so sweet that one would forget that he was about to absolutely destroy them with his cock. "And so there is a little lesson here then, no?" A hiss left you as your shaky hands grabbed at his strong arms, nails pressing into the hard skin when his hips dipped and in went his cock, pushing open your numb walls to make way for itself, the bulging veins pressing soft dents against the flesh. "A lesson to not fucking challenge me."

.