TW: Smut (yes, again)
AN: hey! look who's back👀 did you miss me;))) ?
you guys can choose to skip the first section of the part only if you don't like reading sexual scenes.
A strong weight around my middle made it impossible for me to wiggle around. I tried twisting my face when I realised the pillow I was sleeping on was extremely hard yet surprisingly gentle at the same time. My legs remained immovable, also plastered down by a similar weight, making me numb.
Slowly, my eyes fluttered open and I blinked, trying to make out my surroundings. The first thing I saw as soon as I opened my eyes was a curtained entrance. A black curtain draped the doorway to what I assumed was the balcony but even with the hindrance, soft sunlight poured into the room through the little slit where the curtain hadn't been closed properly.
In a swift moment, events from the previous night started to pour in. My cheeks heated in rememberance of the crude way Kyst spoke to me and touched me and brought me to edge. Wait. Had I passed out in his arms yesterday after I came so hard, I could barely breathe?
And then I realised. The weight under my head wasn't my pillow but Kyst's biceps and it was because of his muscles that contracted in his sleep that I found them to be firm and soft. I was sleeping on my side with Kyst's arm wrapped possessively around my middle, his fingers splayed under the shirt, on the bare skin on my stomach. His shirt. I realised with horror that the shirt that would usually reach uptill my thigh had rode to my waist and I was completely naked down.
Just then, a breeze wheezed past the curtain and the cold air nipped at my most private part, as if reminding me of the ministrations yesterday. An ache throbbed between my legs but it heightened when I felt a pressure on it.
I swallowed a gasp at how Kyst had one of his legs under both of mine and another one thrust between both of my legs. He had changed into his sweatpants and his clothed thigh brushed against the sensitive area between my legs. No matter how much I tried, the ache didn't soothe and there was no way of clenching my thighs since they were seperated by his so slowly, almost unnoticeably I rocked my hips, in a round, torturous rhythm.
Sweat broke out on the back of my neck the more I slid up and down on his thigh, creating a delicious friction. A wordless gasp permeated the air when my bare clit brushed against his clothed knee and I jerked back into his chest, my head thrown on his shoulder.
Increasing my tempo, I grabbed onto his forearm, riding faster, getting closer, closer, so freaking close, when the pressure from under me was gone in an instant. No!!!!
A delicious ache took hold of me when Kyst pulled his leg and shoved his fingers from my stomach to my pussy and cupped me, his deep, husky voice setting my body on fire. “You better fucking be awake and entirely aware of what you were doing right now or I swear to fuck. . . .”
Shit. Shit. Was I just now riding his thigh and getting myself off while he was asleep? And wait, was he even asleep? “You— you were awake this whole time?”
“Did you think I'd be able to remain asleep when you rode my thigh like I was your favourite fucking motorbike?” his voice deepened a tenor just as he pushed two of his fingers inside me, both of them sliding in without any resistance at how turned on I had been because of being all cuddled up in his embrace. Also realising just how hot I was, he brushed my hair from the side of my neck and bit down on my skin, hard. “Fuck, you're so wet. Did sleeping in my arms turn you on, my darling?”
I moaned as he brought his fingers back out before slamming them right back in, hitting a point I never even knew existed, making me cry out. “Kyst!”
“Go ahead, baby. Scream my name while you ride my fingers,” he whispered, his other hand wrapping around my throat from the front as I rocked my hips harder.
He thrust his fingers up and I bucked my hips for him, riding him just like he asked me to. I whimpered at his touch and the raw authority in the way he handled me, ravaged me. He'd only had me once, last night, and it was safe to say that he had already learned my body way better than me which was evident in the way he tortured it.
He sucked the skin of my neck, no doubt leaving marks there before brushing his tongue and licking the bruise, soothing the ache.
“Oh Kyst,” I moaned. His fingers released my throat and he pinched my nipple, his thumb flicking my clit and with a last nip on my neck, I collapsed. An overpowering feeling of bliss grabbed hold of my bones as I rode out the remnants of my orgasm. Kyst's breaths tickled the back of my neck as he leaned down and placed a kiss there, too soft in contrast with the demanding way his fingers commanded my body.
“Hey,” his softly spoken word pulled at the strings of my heart as I caught my breath.
“Hi.” I craned my neck to look at him, his lips pulling up in a gorgeous smile at the sight of the marks he left on my neck. His eyes darkened further when he extracted his fingers from between my legs and placed them at my lips. “Wha—” he shoved both his fingers that had been in me, into my mouth, cutting me off.
“Suck. And make it good,” he ordered. My thighs clenched at the dangerous lul of his voice and even though a dull ache blossomed between my thighs, my stomach dipped with pure excitement. And like the deranged person that I was, I pressed my tongue against his fingers and gave them tentative licks. He tsked loudly before pushing his fingers knuckles deep so they touched my throat, making me gag. “Don't just lick them. Hollow your cheeks and suck. Use your teeth. Suck my fingers like you'd suck my cock.”
A deep red rushed up the side of my neck and my cheeks at his filthy mouth. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked him in, opening my mouth once and getting in as much oxygen as possible. I graced my teeth against his rough, calloused fingers before licking it with my tongue. His deep groan echoed in the air and wrapped around me like a noose just as he pulled his fingers out of me. “Why. . . was it not—”
He reached out a hand and slammed it against my mouth, easily cutting me off. “Don't you dare ask me if you weren't good because you're fucking incredible and if I hadn't removed my fingers just now, I would've pounced you like an animal,” he spoke darkly. “And since you haven't eaten anything since yesterday evening, the last thing you need to deal with right now is me.” And then he pushed his hips forward, his huge, thick erection poking my ass. His voice was nonchalant when he added, “And my dick, obviously.”
I turned around so my breasts were pressed against his naked chest since he'd decided to not wear a shirt and I wrapped an arm around his waist, burying my face in his shoulder. His deep, raspy chuckle filled the room. “You're awfully clingy this morning, aren't you?”
“I already told you I would be clingy and you said you'd take care of me,” I mumbled against his shoulder and let out a contented sigh as he brushed his fingers through my hair. “And besides, we've to go the office soon so just let me be, alright?”
“We don't have to go to the office today, baby. It's Sunday.” His other hand wrapped around my waist and he smashed me to his side, kissing my cheek.
“Does that mean I can sleep some more?” I muttered groggily, my eyes drooping after the mind numbing orgasm just now.
His chest vibrated against mine in a fit of laughter before he slid upwards, tucking my head under his chin and slid the covers up, blanketing us in a cocoon of soft wool and his embrace. “Sure.” And the moment I closed my eyes, I fell into a deep sleep with the memory of Kyst's arms around me and his lips on my forehead.
||
I walked down the stairs in a casual, flowery, pink sundress. It had been around six in the morning when I'd first woken up and Kyst had titled my world off its axis with just his fingers and his words before I fell asleep to the rhythm of his heart against mine.
About half an hour ago, he had woken me up, saying he'd already fixed a bath for me and that he'd go downstairs and make us some breakfast. To say that I'd been utterly happy and in awe of him would be an understatement. I was happier, more cheerful and smiled and laughed more in his presence than I had in my entire life when I'd been surrounded by my parents or at school.
Sure Sully, Savannah and Jenny had had an impeccable effect on my life but nothing had made as much of a difference to me as Kyst had by just waltzing into my life like he'd always belonged there. Like we were always fated.
And sometimes, I liked to think that we really were fated and those were the times that I watched him secretly when he thought I wasn't around. Like that other day at the office when he was in the pantry, playing a game on his phone while making his coffee. Or yesterday, at his birthday party, when he was talking to his dad, on the verge of a breakdown and I'd wrapped my arms around him, unable and incapable of hearing him sound dejected. And right now.
I watched as he opened the refrigerator and grabbed the jar of strawberry jam before returning back to the counter and spreading it on the bread. He'd already cut kiwi and mangoes in cute, tiny pieces that he placed on the plate besides the bread and jam. The coffee machine beeped and he whisked his cup from underneath it and placed it on the counter.
His attention was snatched by the milk boiling on the stove and he lowered the intensity of the gas, adding a spoonful of coffee and sugar to it, letting it mix for a while before grabbing my pink cup — which he got for me the day after we went to the beach for his birthday and kissed for the first time — and pouring the scalding, hot coffee into it.
I remembered telling Kyst once in a conversation that coffees made by the machines didn't really appeal to me and that I liked the process of making it the traditional way on the stove. So the fact that he remembered that conversation and even made me coffee the way I liked it spoke to my heart in more ways than one.
I leaned against the end of the staircase, my arms crossed across my chest and watched just how etherealy beautiful he looked in his simple grey hoodie and casual black jeans. Did he have to look so fucking good in an outfit as simple as a hoodie and jeans?
As if sensing my presence, his head snapped up, his blue eyes clashing with my brown ones, sparkling with warmth and tender adoration as he raked his gaze over my neck, at the angry, purple hickey, my breasts that moulded against the cotton fabric of the sundress and then finally the bare length of my legs since the dress ended right above my knees.
His eyes darkened and he walked towards me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulled me to him, before bending down and kissing the mark on my neck before toying with the spaghetti straps that held my dress up. “Fuck. You in a dress with my mark on you is so fucking satisfying, you have no idea.” And then he grabbed my chin with his thumb and index finger before claiming my mouth.
His lips moved against mine in a slow, tortourous rhythm first before he thrust his tongue in, sucking, licking, nipping at it. His groan that rumbled from his chest did weird things to me and sent tingles down my spine before he stepped back, licking his lips suggestively.
Being in Kyst's vicinity was turning out to be a major issue and I was getting attached to him too fast. We laughed as we ate breakfast and I thanked him for the coffee and the sandwich. Then, as usual, I made a face at his bland, tasteless black coffee and he narrowed his eyes at me, tickling me as I ran all around his living room before finally collapsing onto his couch, breathless and with tears in my eyes from laughing too hard.
Kyst settled down on the other end of the sofa and placed my legs on his lap, softly massaging my feet, a wide grin painted on his own lips after the chase.
“So,” I started and shivered when he trailed his finger up and down the length of my leg. “Since we have nothing to do today, do you think we could go to my old apartment and get my stuff from there? I've also been looking at apartment listings near this building and I've found a really cool one so if you're down, we can go have a tour of it—”
“Like fuck are we having a tour of some stupid apartment.” His tone was straight up non-negotiable and the easy-going expression on his face vanished, his jaw tight.
“W-what do you mean? I can't possibly stay here permanently,” I argued.
He grabbed my calves in his hand and pulled me forward so my thighs rested on his, sideways. “Yes, you can. And you will.” He cupped the back of my neck and leaned in, his breath hot on my lips as he murmured, “This house is as much yours as it is mine. You're my fucking girlfriend and I'll be damned if I let you out of my sight now that I've finally had you.”
“Kyst. . . . what are you implying?” I asked slowly, my heart beating too fast in my chest. He couldn't possibly be asking me to—
“Move in with me,” he said point-black, materialising my thoughts from a second ago. “Permanently.”
“Kyst, that's — it's a huge step. Are you. . . . sure? It's not even been that long since we started dating—”
“Maybe not officially but you should know that I've liked you since the moment I saw you running in the rain. It took me some assholish behaviour and seeing you meet up with other guys to finally realise that I want you as much as I want my next breath. So yes, I'm fucking sure. I want you to stay with me in this house and call it our home,” he confessed. “Unless you're not sure of it?”
I hated the vulnerability in his voice, the sliver of doubt in his tone about what I felt for him. I didn't even think as I grabbed his face and pressed my lips to his, kissing his doubts away. When I pulled back, slightly breathless and my heart full, I looked in his dark blue eyes and said what I felt right now. “I'm sure about you about as sure I am about my love for the colour pink. So, don't you ever question what I feel for you Kyst because it's the most real thing I've ever experienced in my heart.” I paused, gauging his reaction. Still watching his pensive eyes, I gave him a huge grin and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Yes, I'll move in with you, you blue-eyed menace.”
He relieved a sigh of contentment but there was something more to it as he wrapped his arms around my back and squeezed. Relief. As if he was doubting something in his head, as if he wanted to make sure I would never leave him no matter what. And I wanted to tell him that that would be physically and mentally impossible for me because he had already engraved himself in my heart. I was in too deep and for the first time in my life, I felt complete.
I didn't have any sort of hard feelings neither did I doubt myself every step of the way. Sure, I was still insecure about little things like my family status compared to him. I was still afraid to open up and confess to him about Bernard and the self doubts that he had festered in my mind. But I also knew that Kyst would be there with me, holding my hand in his, if — when — I made the choice to tell him about the one event that somehow shook me to my core. I'd tell him at my pace. One truth at a time.
I trusted Kyst.
And just like that, an apprehensive feeling crawled up my spine and sneaked into the small crevice between my ribcage and my heart, whispering in its ugly voice and telling me that nothing could ever keep me happy. Just like before, it reared its ugly head and my belly dipped at the commotion inside my head. I knew something was wrong. My instincts were usually shit and that was why I hadn't trusted them when I'd felt something off about Bernard all those years ago.
But a niggling feeling poked me in my side and as Kyst looked at me, his blue eyes shining and his brows furrowed with a distant expression on his face, I just knew something was terribly wrong. But what?
||
“Hey, what's that?”
I abandoned my suitcase on the floor and walked into my battered, crashed living room of my old apartment where Kyst was. My place dwarfed in his presence, the ceilings only an inch or two taller than him. His large presence stood in the kitchen, pointing at a few rolled up stacks of papers on one the cabinets.
I walked towards him, whisking the papers and unfolding one of them before straightening it on the counter. “That was Jenny's dream,” I said, pointing at the blueprints. “Do you want to see it?”
When he dipped his chin once, I spread the other papers on the counter too, telling him all about Jenny and her late-husband, Theo's dreams about this place. I showed him the blueprints and the designs of the recreational set Jenny had dreamt to bring to existence. Then I explained how the producers pulled away their contracts last minute when Theo passed away and how it broke Jenny.
Kyst listened to every word of mine intently, even asking questions about the project and I answered those with as much information I knew. Jenny hadn't wanted to keep these papers with her since it was a constant reminder that she'd failed her husband — even though we always told her that it wasn't true — so when she had asked me if I could keep these for her, I'd agreed because it was better to keep these away from her than have her look at it all day and feel upset and on the verge of crying.
If I'd had the tools and the correct influence, I'd love to help her out but since my parents weren't particularly fond of me and I was working a regular nine-to-five job, I hadn't been much help. However, Sully had promised to her to help her however he could but him being the fashion industry also proved to be of little to no help and she had to unwillingly give up her dreams and was forced to move on.
And that was why I was stunned to silence when Kyst filled the empty atmosphere with his deep voice, “Do you think it'll make her happy if I somehow brought her project out of the paper and into the real world?”
My eyes widened at his words and I stayed quiet for a second before blinking, looking up at him. “She. . . . she would be elated, Kyst. Can you really do that?”
He tilted his head to the side, studying the papers spread across the kitchen island. Then he plucked his phone out of his jeans pocket and started snapping pictures of it, taking zoomed in and zoomed out shots. “Not me, per se,” he said distractedly before typing on his phone, probably sending these pictures to someone. “But someone can.”
“Who?”
“Miller Jones,” he replied easily, turning the screen of his phone and showing it to me, sure enough having sent the drawings to Miller.
My brows furrowed in confusion and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Since when do you talk about Miller without the intention of murdering him?”
“Hey!” He threw his hands in the air playfully before dropping them to his sides. “The only reason I wanted to murder him was because I used to think he was in love with you. And for record, I did punch him to relieve that belief. But yeah, I know he doesn't love you. Never did, in fact.”
“I know,” I said softly.
“You do?”
I nodded. “My father and mother would always force me to spend alone time with Miller and they once even saw me attending an office party with him as his date, which by the way, I wasn't and I'd only met him in the parking lot so like a gentleman, he'd offered to go together. But they didn't know that. So after that event, they continuously started pestering me and Miller kind of grew even more comfortable after that incident. And then a few weeks later he randomly asked me to drop me home when I was shit drunk so in my brain, I reckoned it to be him making a move on me and I didn't like that. Not one bit. So I rudely turned him down and then left the job.”
I paused for a second, studying Kyst, but he stood there like an adonis God, leaning his hip against the counter, watching me with a soft expression.
He softly smiled at me and that encouraged me to open up a little more. “I created that image in my mind about him having fallen for me so I could blame me leaving that job on him. I think there was something wrong with me because I always doubted a person's good nature and intentions because that sort of self-doubt has been ingrained in me ever since I was fifteen. I wanted to hate Miller because I hated myself for losing an ally, because he was the only person at the office who I'd say was my friend. But my defected brain couldn't help associating his kindness with him actually caring about me and I convinced myself that he was playing with me.”
I stepped towards Kyst and wrapped my hands around his waist, wanting, — no — needing, that connection as I continued, “Love was — is — a taboo topic for me so convincing myself that he was a conniving fox who fell in love with me to keep me close and then betray me like someone from my past was my defense mechanism to move on from that job. Deep down, I knew Miller wasn't in love with me. In fact, he treated me like one would his sister. He taught me new things and dealt with me with patience and now I'm starting to realise just how pathetic and afraid I have been.” And it's because of you that love doesn't seem like a taboo topic anymore, I wanted to tell him but forced myself to stop at the last second.
A sniffle echoed in the air and I realised with a gasp that it was from me. Kyst pulled back and wiped a tear from under my eyes. I hadn't even realised I'd started crying. He leaned down, softly pecking my forehead. “You're not pathetic.” He kissed my cheek. “You're an amazing person.” My other cheek. “You're so beautiful you make me insane.” He kissed my nose, my chin. “And you deserve to be loved. You want to be loved and it's not wrong. Your defense mechanism wasn't the right way to deal with your insecurities but I'm proud of the way you overcame through it and even let me enter your heart. That's progress, isn't it? You said you trust me. Don't you?”
“I do,” I muttered, my voice heavy with realisation. “I trust you.”
“Good,” he said, his voice soft. He captured my lips in his, kissing me with a passion that made me curl my toes. He pressed his forehead on mine and whispered, “I'll show you what it feels like to fall in love, Vi darling. You'll laugh and you'll cry, you'll be hurt and you'll heal. And every step of the way, I'll be there with you to remind you that you can fall in love and that you can enjoy being in love without worrying about your insecurities.”
“Thank you,” I said against his lips. “You have no idea how much your words mean to me.”
“I'll make sure you feel my words too because you deserve nothing but the best. And while you might want to hate me, even question our relationship at some point, I'll shake you out of your stupor and make sure I become the man you deserve and love.”
His words were spoken with so much conviction and raw belief about the future, that my chest inflated with respect for him. It wasn't easy letting go of that one part of me but saying the truth deflated a weight that kept perching on my shoulders. I was no longer afraid of facing Miller Jones or having that talk with him because I knew I'd have to someday, to give himself and me a closure. And I would. But right now, Kyst was the most important person in my life and I needed to make sure he'd be the same for my entire life, come any difficulties.
I'd just opened my mouth to tell him that I'd never hate him nor ever question our relationship when my phone dinged with a message. I was totally going to ignore the text but the screen illuminated with a name that made me pause. Kyst looked at the text too and stiffened but something told me that he paused for a reason entirely different from mine and suddenly, as if a sign, the moment between us ended. It was as if someone doused us in ice-cold water, snapping their fingers in front of our face and pulling us out of our dreamland.
Father: We need to talk soon. Come meet me.
||
oh well.
soooooooo STOP HATING MILLER YALL. my baby. okay but on a serious note, drama incoming. i won't say too much rn, but papa's here to cause some trouble (YES im saying this like y'all don't already know lmao)
also pls tell me what you guys thought about this chp!!
comment your favourite emoji here>>> mine is prolly the crying emoji and the envelope with a heart on it. they're so cute.
thanks for reading!!
vote and comment<3