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“Sylus,” you say, annoyance finally getting the better of you. “Stop playing horribly on purpose so that I win.”
Sylus looks over his cards at you. “Maybe I’m just really bad at kitty cards.”
You raise your brows. “ I’m bad at kitty cards. You’re pretending to be bad at kitty cards. Who in their right mind would trade two cards for one? Let alone when your two cards are a six and a five!”
Sylus sets his cards face down and purses his lips. “I just want you to have a good time,” he says.
“Well, I’m not. I would rather you try than hand me a win because you feel bad for me.”
“I don’t feel bad for you.”
“Right, but you’ve never been bad at anything in your entire life, so I know you aren’t playing like this because you’re bad.”
“Maybe I just like to see you smile.”
“Well, I would smile if I won because I played well, not because you played so badly that I won!”
Sylus sighs. “You have no proof I’m not just bad at this.”
“You put a brown cat in a blue cup! No one does that!”
“Fine,” Sylus replies. He grabs all the cards from the table and shuffles them, his eyes locking on yours across the table. “But you don’t get to pout if you lose terribly.”
You lose terribly.
32 points to your measly 4 because Sylus got all the good cards, and not because you’re horrible at card games. And, like the masochist you are, you choose to play again. And again. And again...
Until finally, Sylus takes the cards and shoves them under his ass in the chair, crossing his arms.
“You’re being pouty,” Sylus says. “That’s why I let you win.”
“Ha!” You say, pointing at him. “I knew you were letting me win!”
“Of course I was.” Sylus raises an eyebrow. Damn him.. “As you said, I’ve never been bad at anything.”
You kick him under the table, but he just grins at you. You pout. “You could’ve been a little easy on me.”
“No,” Sylus replies. “You told me you wanted to win fair and square, so you needed to earn it.”
You cross your arms and lean back in the chair, a pout still on your face. Sylus watches you silently before you feel his fingers grip your knee. “I’ll make it up to you.”
This piques your interest, even though you’re still trying to stifle the embarrassment of losing so badly. His fingers dig into your thigh under your skirt, and you clamp your legs shut on his hand. “I think I deserve that,” you respond.
Sylus clicks his tongue and stands from his chair, walking around the table to where you’re seated. He pets your hair briefly before raking his fingers through it and tugging your head back. You gasp in surprise, but he swallows it with his mouth when he leans down to kiss you. Every time you kiss him, it feels new and exciting; like the entire world shrinks until it’s just the two of you and the soft press of his lips against yours. He tastes like coffee and the scones you were sharing, and his tongue swipes over yours until you respond in kind.
With his hand still in your hair, he tugs it when you bite his bottom lip. He pulls back just an inch to peer down at you, amusement dancing in his eyes. His breath is hot on your wet lips when he says “No need to be upset that I’m better than you at something, sweetheart.”
You narrow your eyes. “You don’t have to be mean.”
His lips tip into that goddamn smirk of his that makes your stomach tie in knots. “I’m not being mean, you’re just being a sore loser.”
“I thought you were making it up to me?”
Sylus snorts and leans back down, capturing your lips between his. You taste blood on your tongue, likely from where you bit him. You reach out for him, your fingers curling into his shirt, tugging it from his pants where he’s tucked it in. You’re frantic, fumbling to unbutton it while he kisses you with a handful of your hair caught between his fist. It’s just the right side of painful, pinpricks of pain lighting up your scalp.
You’ve already forgotten all about the stupid kitty cards.
Sylus pulls back and you suck in a breath, admiring the way his lips are flushed red. You’ve finally pulled the last button of his shirt free, and you push it off his shoulders with a little help from him. His shirt falls to the floor in a heap when he stands up, and your eyes fall on the very obvious tent in his pants.
You lick your lips and reach for his belt, but Sylus grabs your wrists. “No.”
You frown and look up at him. “I just want-”
“No,” he says again. He lets go of your wrists, which you dutifully set in your lap. “I said I would make it up to you.”
You blink, confused, but then you understand when he drops to his knees before you. “ Oh .”
Sylus is meticulous, lifting your leg with his fingers wrapped around your ankle to set it on his shoulder. He kisses the inside of your calf, up towards your knee, and right along your thigh at the hem of your skirt. His lips are soft and wet, leaving a path of fire along your skin that makes you delightfully shiver.
“You may not be good at kitty cards,” Sylus says, his voice lined with amusement, “but you’re very good at driving me crazy.”
You flush and look away, grabbing the edges of the hard, wooden seat on either side of your hips. Sylus bites the soft skin on the inside of your thigh before slowly lifting your skirt. You hear him take in a sharp breath when he sees your panties: black and lacey, with a little cut-out heart on the front.
“For me?” He asks. You want to tell him no, but you definitely came over here to play kitty cards with an alternate motive.
You look back at him, but he’s not looking up at you. His eyes are glued to your panties, his fingers toying at the edge of the lace in the crease of your thigh. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip and touches you, his fingers running over your slit through your panties. You grit your teeth and hold onto the chair, swallowing the sound that crawled its way up your throat.
Sylus looks up at you from under his lashes, his eyes smoldering. “I want to hear you,” he says, pressing against your clit through the fabric. “I want to hear how good I make you feel, kitten.”
You swallow but nod, unable to respond coherently to him. You know from experience that he has wicked fingers, and he often renders you speechless.
He rubs you through your panties, his other hand holding your skirt up and out of the way. Your eyes drop to watch him, and your hips buck up to meet his hand as your mouth falls open.
Instead of pulling your panties off and down your legs, Sylus moves your other leg to his other shoulder, pulling you down in the chair until your ass is hanging just off the edge. You yelp in surprise, your arms flying up to hold onto the back of the chair for purchase. His fingers shove your panties to the side, and he dips down, his tongue lapping up your juices.
“Oh my god,” you whisper. Sylus looks up at you, and you know if his mouth wasn’t occupied, he would smirk and say something snarky about him being a god. “ Oh my god ,” you say a little louder when he sucks your clit into his hot, wet mouth.
You grip the chair above your head so hard that it hurts. Sylus’s tongue flicks over your clit again and again until you’re squirming in the chair. You’re two seconds from begging him to let you come when he stops, pulling back to look at you spread out on the chair for him. “Look at you,” he says. You hold your breath when his thumb spreads you open. “You’re so wet for me.”
You moan when he slips a finger inside of you, pressing up against the spot that makes your vision blur. He rubs over it with practiced ease, his eyes lifting to watch your face. You try to hold the eye contact with him, opening your mouth to moan his name when another finger slips inside of you. Your arms hurt from holding onto the chair, your hips ache from spreading them so wide for him, and you feel so much that you think you’re going to cry.
Sylus finally leans back down, pulling your throbbing clit back between his lips as he drags his fingers in and out of you. The only sounds you can hear are your heart pounding in your ears and the wet slick of his mouth and fingers. Your toes curl as he brings you right to the edge.
He stops suddenly, and you try to catch your breath, chest heaving when he straightens up. His fingers stay inside of you, and you clench around them to encourage him to continue. You see your juices on his lips, on his chin, and you lean in to meet him when he moves to kiss you. Your tongue runs over his lips, catching your taste from him. His fingers move, fucking in and out of you as you lick the taste of yourself from his mouth.
“Fuck,” you say against his lips, “ fuck .”
Sylus stops again, pulling back from your lips with a sly smile. “Don’t come just yet.”
You frown at him, but you’re used to this. Sylus likes to play with his food.
His lips are on you again, sucking and licking and mouthing at your clit until you’re gasping and writhing in the chair. You feel your release just on your heels, and Sylus doesn’t stop until you’re moaning and trying to shove his fingers deeper inside of you. He stops just as suddenly as before, but he keeps his mouth on your clit until you come back down in a panting mess of exhaustion.
“You suck,” you say. “You suck so fucking much, Sylus.”
Sylus blinks up at you, and you’re at least happy to see that his eyes are dark, black pools of desire. He’s edging himself just as much as he’s edging you, which does something for you.
“I bet you want to fuck me so bad that it hurts,” you say, trying to egg him on. Sylus only stares at you, but you feel the quick swipe of his tongue over your clit. You twitch as a moan trips over your lips. “I bet you’re aching for it.”
Sylus is relentless in response, sucking on your clit at the same pace as he fucks his fingers into you. And god, his fingers are so fucking long, and that’s all you’re thinking of when he pushes you over the edge. It catches you by surprise, and you almost sob when you come, your legs shaking as Sylus drags you through it. He doesn’t stop even when you let go of the chair to try and push him away. He holds onto you with both hands, gripping your thighs with bruising fingers.
It feels so good that it hurts, but Sylus pulls you through another orgasm almost as violent as the first. His fingers curl inside of you as he devours you with his mouth.
You nearly fall out of the chair when Sylus pulls away. But you steady yourself again to watch him lick his fingers clean. His eyes never move from yours as he does.
“You’re right,” Sylus says, his hands dropping to unbuckle his belt. “I am aching to fuck you, kitten.”
You smile, slow and sweet, as he undoes his pants, shoving them down just far enough to free his erection. You drop your gaze to look at it; all flushed red and so fucking big in his hand. He strokes it slowly, and your mouth waters. You want to feel it in your throat again; you want to feel how heavy it is in your fist, but Sylus is already rubbing the tip up against your hole, so you know he isn’t going to let you.
Maybe next time.
Sylus rubs against you, his cock dragging over your wet folds as he thrusts his hips slowly. You hold your legs wide for him, hooking them through your arms, trusting for him to hold you steady on the tiny wooden chair. He holds one of your hips with one splayed-out hand, his other moving to grip the back of the chair over your head. You want to kiss him, you think, as you stare up at his open mouth when he pushes inside of you.
He fucks you slowly, his eyes focused on watching himself slide in and out of you. You’re watching his face as his jaw clenches, his muscles working in his shoulders as he holds you and the chair steady.
“Fuck me,” you say. “Fuck me, Sylus.”
He quickens his pace, and you think the stupid fucking chair is going to break underneath you. His hips slam against you as he fucks you, hard and fast, just the way you both like.
“Yeah,” you say huskily, your fingers clawing into your own legs. You feel like you’ll fall off the chair, but Sylu’s fingers are gripping your side so hard that you know you won’t. “Like that,” you say with a moan.
Sylus looks up at you, his eyes like wildfire. His hand drops from the back of the chair to grip your chin, and you open your mouth when he shoves his fingers into it. You lick his fingers, still finding the taste of yourself on them. He pulls them out, but then he leans over you and spits into your mouth. “Swallow,” he says. His hips have stopped, his cock buried deep inside of you.
You’re almost horrified, but you’re so turned on that you almost come on the spot as he grinds his hips against you. You swallow, spurred on by the way you feel his cock twitch inside of you. He’s never spit in your mouth before, but holy fuck, you want him to do it again.
You hear him growl in frustration before pulling out of you, his hand letting go of you for a moment. You only half register him ripping your panties off and tossing them to the side. “Those were my favorite,” you say sadly.
Sylus ignores you, his cock moving to bump up against your hole again. He’s desperate, you know, the wild look in his eyes and the set of his jaw giving it all away. He lost his composure somewhere along the line, and you love it when he’s like this. He’s closer to animal than human when he’s inside of you, you’ve come to realize.
Both Sylus’s hands move to your shirt, and he seems to take a moment to decide whether to tear it off or pull it up over your head. You move to help him before he rips your shirt like he did your panties. You’re left in only your skirt, and you know that’s only because Sylus doesn’t want to pull back out of you to take it off.
Your hands reach for him, and he leans down to mouth at your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. He pushes back inside of you and you moan, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his hips, pulling him close. Your arms snake around his neck, and he bites down on your shoulder as he lifts you, forcing his cock further inside of you.
You groan at the stretch, at the feeling of him stuffed inside of you to the hilt. You move against him, your mouth finding its way to his ear. You moan his name as his fingers grip your ass, holding you in place. You want him to pound you until you can’t walk straight.
“Please,” you whisper into his ear. You move your hips again with a moan. “Please, Sylus.”
Your back hits the wall a moment later, and you hold onto him tightly as he fucks you against it. His lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, and he nips at it. “Touch yourself,” he says against your skin. “I want to feel you come.”
You oblige, unhooking one arm from around his neck to wiggle it between your bodies. You let the wall take most of your weight, your other arm moving for your hand to grip his bicep. You feel his muscles work as he thrusts against you, his mouth still latched onto your neck. You know there will be a mark there for a while, which excites you even more.
The second your fingers swipe over your clit, your mouth falls open with a gasp. You’re soaking wet, and your fingers slide down to feel his cock moving in and out of you. “You feel so good,” you say. Sylus hums against you.
You’re not usually a talker, but you know what gets Sylus going.
His hips stutter, and you know he’s getting close. His lips move along the length of your collarbone in a trail of heat, and your fingers rub over your clit quickly as you hook your ankles together behind his back. When he bites down on a tender spot near your shoulder, you come, jerking against him as you ride the waves of it. His name falls from your mouth like a prayer, and Sylus follows soon after, spilling inside you with a growl.
You both stay there momentarily, Sylus’s forehead resting against your shoulder. You card your clean fingers through his hair and sigh, still feeling the last bits of your orgasm in the tingle of your toes. “I should lose at kitty cards more often,” you say after you catch your breath.
Sylus shakes against you with laughter. “I think I’ll stop letting you win from now on.”
Well, small victories.