Lock the Door — Lance & Rafael (Mature) (Patreon)

Humming lips graze upon your throat.

You close your eyes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to keep a whimper from falling out. But something must have slipped because the lips upturned in a smug smile.

The man of a million smiles had to pick now to try a new one.

The lips trail butterfly kisses along your jaw, at the skin beneath your ear, to suckle gently at the lobe. The whimper falls, unrestrained, as you arch against him, but he lets you go with a hummed chuckle.

He leaves one last lingering kiss in the arch of your left cheek before he gently moves your head to his other shoulder and plants his lips on the right side of your throat, beginning the process anew.

You are going insane with want. "Lance," you moan his name, back arching against him again. Your ass presses on his groin, and a jolt of need drives you close to absurdity when you feel the hard poke of his erection.

He wants you, too.

"No, no." His disapproving tsk bathes the slope where your neck meets shoulder. You'd ignore it and roll your hips again, but Lance claps it with both hands and holds you away from him. "You will behave, mercenary. You said you could, did you not?"

His voice, always so melodic, is darker and lower and has the undertone of desire. If only you could see his eyes; you know the grey is blown wide. He's trying to control his breathing, but you can feel the rapid puffs of his chest against your back, and you can just imagine the way his hair falls down his forehead in ruined strands.

You want to sink your fingers in the blue mess and pull until he's the one whimpering sweetly in your ear.

But you keep your hands firm by your side, bite your lip harder, and lock in your wanton hips. Your impulsive mouth has gotten you in trouble so many times in your life but right now, with your skin aflame and coiled tension on your lower stomach, you've never regretted it more. But you won't back down.

Not right away, damn you.

"Hmm," he hums once more with that smug smile again. You dig your nails into your palms and wish your gloved one could give you the same relief as the other. "That is better. Can I trust you to be still?"

Lance kisses down your shoulder to the very apex, tongue flickering out on your collarbone. You never thought your collarbone was particularly sensitive, but here you are, gasping in his arms. "That is new," he notes, licking it again, his hands instinctually closing around your waist when you buckle against him. "Tsk, tsk. It seems I cannot trust you."

Where did he get so insufferable? "I'll be still," you say through clenched teeth.

There's a small, intentional pause. "Let’s see," Lance says and releases your hips. He lifts his head at the same time, locking his lips on the underside of your jaw, and finally, he starts to use his hands.

*if Romanus is female

Ten careful fingers drift up your sides. They're light, and their touch would be tender if it wasn't so to torture you. He plays with your ribs as if you're a string instrument, humming a new tune against your skin. He licks along the curve of your ear as one hand moves up and cups your breast.

It's just a light touch, a small pressure. It shouldn't send jolts down your spine, but you curl your toes at the sensation. Your eyes drift close as Lance thumbs your nipple, drawing small circles, plucking whines from your lips as if your throat, too, is an instrument. His other hand drifts down, tapping your belly, then your lower stomach, before he grazes the top of your knickers.

"How are you here?" he asks, kissing your cheek now, so close to your mouth, but never there. "Hmm?"

He rolls your breast in one hand, but the other is still. You realize he wants you to answer. "I'm..."

By the Gods.

"Yes, my sweet?"

"I'm wet," you whisper, cheeks burning.

Lance hums. "For whom?"

Oh, my Lord.

"... you," you say, lower than a whisper.

But Lance nestles his face against your neck, his nose digging into your pulse point. "Hmm?"

Your eyes are closed, but you squeeze them shut even tighter and finally, let go. "You," you croak louder now. Almost accusatorily. "I'm wet for you."

You feel his smile as Lance inhales your scent. "And?"

You consider keeping quiet, but his hand is flat on your lower stomach, like a burning reminder, while his other still holds your breast and... to hell with your dignity. "I was wrong. I need you."

His hand slips past your knickers to cup your sex, and you both let out a moan. Yours is whiny with need while he almost growls. "You're not wet," Lance drawls, dropping open-mouthed kisses on your throat. "You're drenched."

You don't answer. You can't. He's making circles on your mound, spreading your wetness, and it feels divine. You let go, then, grabbing the back of his neck as Lance sucks on your jaw. He presses two fingers at your entrance, just barely in.

But holds for a moment.

Your eyes flutter open as he lifts his head away and quietly watches you. You turn your head on his shoulder to meet his eyes and nearly come undone by the sight alone. He looks beyond want. He looks hungry.

His black pupils fill the whole eyeballs, his mouth is one thin line, and you see the cords of tension on his neck. You lean towards him, lips seeking his, and Lance meets you halfway.

Your tongue delves into his mouth, and he lets you. He invites you, sucking you in, drinking your desperate moans. The fingers delve into you without any resistance, and he works them in tandem with your tongue, fucking you at the same time you lick into his mouth. You go faster, kiss almost turning aggressive, and Lance mimics you down below, pace quickening too.

You curl your tongue at the ceiling of his mouth, and he curls his fingers right there.

Oh.

It's almost too much. It's not enough. "Lance," you mumble into his mouth.

He hums, the sound drifting down your throat.

"Lance," you say again, broken now. He takes control of the kiss, lips gliding along yours, tilting your chin to claim you deeper. You moan again, sucking his tongue now, and give yourself to him.

"What do you want?" he rasps between the fervour. His fingers don't still, but they slow. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you break out.

But he smiles, so smug, so handsome. "No, no, my mercenary. That is not enough." He takes his hand away, and you almost yell in frustration. "Tell me what you desire. Speak it, and it is yours."

Through the haze, you force your eyes to focus. He's so close, your wonderful bard. So close and beautiful. "I want you in my mouth."

Lance's eyes flicker in surprise. He tries to hide it, tries to put up a confident smile right away, but you saw it. And now your own lips curl at the corners.

"Turn around," Lance commands, his voice steady, but you catch the mildest hitch in his breath.

And when you do so, turning slowly in his arms to flush your chests to each other, you feel the slightest of hesitations when he circles your waist. Oh, now it's your turn. "And what now?" you tease, nails dragging up his shoulders to hold onto his nape.

Lance bites his tongue and pulls you down by the arms. "Do you need instructions?" he asks with a quirked brow, but you pull his hair, and Lance groans.

"Maybe I do," you say, leaning forward and kissing his Adam's Apple. It bobs under your lips. You kiss the crease in his throat next and then the top of his chest.

Lance leans back on the bed, one hand on top of your hair, while the other plays with your ribs again. He's making another song, another melody with your bones. "Maybe?"

You smirk, lick his nipple, and feel his abs tense under your palm. "Definitely."

You keep kissing down, trailing the brown hairs on his lower stomach as your hands lower his underwear. "I— I never—"

You stop, look up, and see his brows creased in uncertainty. Cursing yourself silently, you lift up to kiss him gently on the lips. Lance's hand cups your cheek. "I know," you whisper, smiling reassuringly at him. "I'm just teasing, Lance. You don't actually need to tell me what to do."

His eyes search yours for a moment before Lance smiles too. You can just see a little peek of his golden canine. "When have you ever, mercenary?"

You laugh, and Lance kisses you again before you make your way down to his thighs. You keep one hand on his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart, as the other gingerly wraps around—

"Silverthread, the big boss wants to see ya."

The door to his room opens, he jerks under you, and your mortified heart falls to your feet.

"Well, shit."

You go to look over your shoulder, feeling the gaze of whoever's at the door on you like needles prickling your skin, but suddenly, Lance's hand cups the back of your head, and he pushes you down on his thigh, almost smothering you. The covers are pulled over you, and now you're in a dark cocoon.

"Tell him I'll be right there." Lance's voice drifts towards you. You hear the spark of anger under the barely disguised pleasantry.

But it seems the other man doesn't notice or doesn't care. "Didn't know you had company, boss. And I ruined the show right at the best moment," he says with a leering chuckle.

Your cheeks burn even hotter, but Lance's hand is firm on your head, keeping you in place. You feel him flex when you try to yell at the bastard to piss off. "Hm!" Is all you manage.

"Ah! Is she still going?"

"Leave," Lance warns.

"I—"

Lance moves beneath you, and you hear the click of his hand crossbow when he pulls the latch back. The other's sentence is cut short. "Leave now."

There's no answer, but you hear the door closing...

"And Lex?" Lance calls.

"Yeah?"

"Next time you pocket coins from our shipments, I'll cut off your fingers."

The door closes, and Lance lets you go.

"What the hell was that?" you snarl, throwing the cover off to glare at him.

Lance sighs and puts his crossbow on the bedside table. "I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't want him to see who you were. Not yet."

Your brows ease slightly. Only slightly. "So, suffocating me was preferable?" you exaggerate.

Lance smiles, then, hand seeking yours in forgiveness. "I knew the moment I let you go; you'd stab him."

"Something like that," you huff, but take his hand, fingers intertwining together.

Lance pulls you towards him, lips grazing the shell of your ear again. "Besides, you were about to choke on something else, weren't you?"

You slap his shoulder in surprise. "Lance!" you say, laughing breathlessly.

The damned bard only smiles in reply. It seems the smugness is here to stay.

*if Romanus is male

Ten careful fingers drift up your sides. They're light, and their touch would be tender if it wasn't so to torture you. He plays with your ribs as if you're a string instrument, humming a new tune against your skin. He licks along the curve of your ear as one hand moves up and grazes your nipple.

It's just a light touch, a small pressure. It shouldn't send jolts down your spine, but you curl your toes at the sensation. Your eyes drift close as Lance thumbs your nipple, drawing small circles, plucking whines from your lips as if your throat, too, is an instrument. His other hand drifts down, tapping your belly, then your lower stomach, before he grazes the top of your knickers.

"How are you here?" he asks, kissing your cheek now, so close to your mouth, but never there. "Hmm?"

He rolls your breast in one hand, but the other is still. You realize he wants you to answer. "I'm..."

By the Gods.

"Yes, my sweet?"

"I'm hard," you whisper, cheeks burning.

Lance hums. "For whom?"

Oh, my Lord.

"... you," you say, lower than a whisper.

But Lance nestles his face against your neck, his nose digging into your pulse point. "Hmm?"

Your eyes are closed, but you squeeze them shut even tighter and finally, let go. "You," you croak louder now. Almost accusatorily. "I'm hard for you."

You feel his smile as Lance inhales your scent. "And?"

You consider keeping quiet, but his hand is flat on your lower stomach, like a burning reminder and... to hell with your dignity. "I was wrong. I need you."

His hand slips past your knickers to wrap around your sex. Yours is whiny with need while he almost growls. "You didn't lie," Lance drawls, dropping open-mouthed kisses on your throat.

He slowly moves his hand up and down, and the light friction feels divine. You let go, then, grabbing the back of his neck as Lance sucks on your jaw. He swipes his thumb over your tip, just the one time.

And the hand stops.

Your eyes flutter open as he lifts his head away and quietly watches you. You turn your head on his shoulder to meet his eyes and nearly come undone by the sight alone. He looks beyond want. He looks hungry.

His black pupils fill the whole eyeballs, his mouth is one thin line, and you see the cords of tension on his neck. You lean towards him, lips seeking his, and Lance meets you halfway.

Your tongue delves into his mouth, and he lets you. He invites you, sucking you in, drinking your desperate moans. The fingers move in tandem with your tongue, pumping you at the same time you lick into his mouth. You go faster, kiss almost turning aggressive, and Lance mimics you down below, pace quickening too.

It's almost too much. It's not enough. "Lance," you mumble into his mouth.

He hums, the sound drifting down your throat.

"Lance," you say again, broken now. He takes control of the kiss, lips gliding along yours, tilting your chin to claim you deeper. You moan again, sucking his tongue now, and give yourself to him.

"What do you want?" he rasps between the fervor. His fingers don't still, but they slow. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you break out.

But he smiles, so smug, so handsome. "No, no, my mercenary. That is not enough." He takes his hand away, and you almost yell in frustration. "Tell me what you desire. Speak it, and it is yours."

Through the haze, you force your eyes to focus. He's so close, your wonderful bard. So close and beautiful. "I want you in my mouth."

Lance's eyes flicker in surprise. He tries to hide it, tries to put up a confident smile right away, but you saw it. And now your own lips curl at the corners.

"Turn around," Lance commands, his voice steady, but you catch the mildest hitch in his breath.

And when you do so, turning slowly in his arms to flush your chests to each other, you feel the slightest of hesitations when he circles your waist. Oh, now it's your turn. "And what now?" you tease, nails dragging up his shoulders to hold onto his nape.

Lance bites his tongue and pulls you down by the arms. "Do you need instructions?" he asks with a quirked brow, but you pull his hair, and Lance groans.

"Maybe I do," you say, leaning forward and kissing his Adam's Apple. It bobs under your lips. You kiss the crease in his throat next and then the top of his chest.

Lance leans back on the bed, one hand on top of your hair while the other plays with your ribs again. He's making another song, another melody with your bones. "Maybe?"

You smirk, lick his nipple, and feel his abs tense under your palm. "Definitely."

You keep kissing down, trailing the brown hairs on his lower stomach as your hands lower his underwear. "I— I never—"

You stop, look up, and see his brows creased in uncertainty. Cursing yourself silently, you lift up to kiss him gently on the lips. Lance's hand cups your cheek. "I know," you whisper, smiling reassuringly at him. "I'm just teasing, Lance. You don't actually need to tell me what to do."

His eyes search yours for a moment before Lance smiles too. You can just see a little peek of his golden canine. "When have you ever, mercenary?"

You laugh, and Lance kisses you again before you make your way down to his thighs. You keep one hand on his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart, as the other gingerly wraps around—

"Silverthread, the big boss wants to see ya."

The door to his room opens, he jerks under you, and your mortified heart falls to your feet.

"Well, shit."

You go to look over your shoulder, feeling the gaze of whoever's at the door on you like needles prickling your skin, but suddenly, Lance's hand cups the back of your head and pushes you down on his thigh, almost smothering you. The covers are pulled over you, and now you're in a dark cocoon.

"Tell him I'll be right there." Lance's voice drifts towards you. You hear the spark of anger under the barely disguised pleasantry.

But it seems the other man doesn't notice or doesn't care. "Didn't know you had company, boss. And I ruined the show right at the best moment," he says with a leering chuckle.

Your cheeks burn even hotter, but Lance's hand is firm on your head, keeping you in place. You feel him flex when you try to yell at the bastard to piss off. "Hm!" Is all you manage.

"Ah! Is he still going?"

"Leave," Lance warns.

"I—"

Lance moves beneath you, and you hear the click of his hand crossbow when he pulls the latch back. The other's sentence is cut short. "Leave now."

There's no answer, but you hear the door closing...

"And Lex?" Lance calls.

"Yeah?"

"Next time you pocket coins from our shipments, I'll cut off your fingers."

The door closes, and Lance lets you go.

"What the hell was that?" you snarl, throwing the cover off to glare at him.

Lance sighs and puts his crossbow on the bedside table. "I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't want him to see who you were. Not yet."

Your brows ease slightly. Only slightly. "So, suffocating me was preferable?" you exaggerate.

Lance smiles, then, hand seeking yours in forgiveness. "I knew the moment I let you go; you'd stab him."

"Something like that," you huff, but take his hand, fingers intertwining together.

Lance pulls you towards him, lips grazing the shell of your ear again. "Besides, you were about to choke on something else, weren't you?"

You slap his shoulder in surprise. "Lance!" you say, laughing breathlessly.

The damned bard only smiles in reply. It seems the smugness is here to stay.

- - -

The stupid lock refuses to budge.

"This is impossible," you mutter through clenched teeth. You want to throw the damned lockpicks at the wall. "This safe is faulty. It's defective."

"The safe is doing what it's meant to," Rafael speaks from behind, and you can just hear the cockiness in his bastard tone. "Keeping ya out."

Your tongue sparkles in irritation. "Then you're a terrible teacher," you bark out, throwing him a glare over your shoulder. He's lounging on top of a crate, his legs crossed, and his body supported by one hand while the other eats an apple. The damn bastard looks so happy. "I did everything you told me and—"

"Ya did not."

You power through his interruption. "And it does nothing!"

Rafael clicks his teeth, not even looking at you. "The tools aren't meant to use you," he says, taking another bite. You pray he chokes on it. "You're meant to use them."

That's it. "Okay, I give up," you say, starting to get up from your knees. Maybe you won't feel so... on edge if he's not looking down his nose at you. "I should never have asked for your help. I don't know what I was thinking."

Rafael snaps his brown eyes to you. "Hold it."

And, for some maddening reason, you do. His voice comes out in a sharp command, surprising you enough that you obey him. You stay on your knees in front of the safe.

"Let me try and help ya," Rafael says with a long-suffering sight that would be credible if it weren't for the excited light in his eyes. He can't hide how much he's enjoying this.

When you asked for his help, Rafael sneered and grumbled, but he agreed almost immediately and hasn't stopped smiling since. You don't think you've ever seen his tooth gap as much as tonight.

"That's what I asked you to do, yes," you retort, trying to put some heat back into the words, but they sound lacking even to your own ears. Pull yourself together.

"I didn't realize you were this bad," Rafel says, jumping down the crate and throwing the half-eaten apple somewhere out of sight. He steps closer with an insufferable smile. "If I knew it, I wouldn't have accepted."

"Oh, yes," you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You look so vexed to be here."

"Could be doing somethin' better," he lies.

"By all means, feel free to g—"

The words die in your mouth when Rafael lowers himself to the ground. He goes down on one knee, body mimicking yours, and slides his hips right behind you. You swallow the pathetic lump in your throat.

"Will you shut up?" Rafael says, his voice too close to you. He's speaking in a lower tone, graver, and you fight to keep your hands from shaking. "I'm not gonna go until you get it. This is the simplest kind of lock. Your failure would make me look bad."

He lifts a hand and grabs your wrist, bringing it towards the lock. You watch him guide you with half-lidded eyes. "Who would even know?" you whisper a retort, but you've almost forgotten what it was you were talking about.

You can feel his body hovering close, and you hate what it does to you. You hate what he does to you. Hat spreads over your skin, and sparkles in your core, and Rafael — the bastard — whispers near your ear. "I would know."

His hand shifts, fingers spreading on top of your glove. You can feel his callouses as they press against your knuckles, but his touch is surprisingly gentle as he starts to guide you like a marionette on a string. "Where's your other hand?" Rafael asks. You glance through the corner of your eye and can just make out his mouth and jaw. They're both set into a focused line.

"Are ya deaf?" he says after a while, and you jolt when you realize you've just been staring at the stubble around his jaw. His words are harsh, but his tone is still gentle and... intimate.

You swallow again and wordlessly lift your other hand, but Rafael doesn't take this one. "Good," he says. You cannot believe the stupid praise has heat building in your core. "Now, take the short hook and press it in until you hear the first click."

His breath is warm on your cheek, smelling faintly of apple and cinnamon. You lean away a little, trying to clear your head, but Rafael just shuffles forward, and now he's even closer than before. His right thigh grazes your behind, and you wonder why all the air is rushing out of the room.

But you cannot fail. With narrowed eyes, you move your hand as he instructs. Your other hand is commanded by Rafael, so you only need to keep it slack in his grip.

You put the hook inside and press along the tiny metal hallway. Rafael waits in silence, uncharacteristically patient. You try one, two, three times...

Click.

You smile and can feel the smile in his voice too. "Now add this," he says, pulling your hand with the jagged hook — what he calls the deforest diamond — towards the lock. You slip it inside, guided by him, and lodge it below the other.

"You're doing good," he says, thumb brushing your wrist in encouragement. A jolt flies to your nipples, making your breath hitch and he has to know. He must what he's doing to you. "Very good. Almost there."

You've never heard Rafael’s voice like this. You've listened to him angry — furious, even. You've heard him scared and amused, irritated and drunk. But you have never heard it as he speaks now, so close to your ear that you close your eyes.

Your hand moves, guided by him, while the other just stays locked in place.

There's a pause, and you feel him turning his head to look at you. Shame floods you, your skin prickling at the silence that stretches. You can feel him staring, but you can't open your eyes. You just stay frozen, praying to God that... what? What do you want?

But suddenly, lips.

Your eyes fly open when Rafael presses a chaste kiss on the arch of your cheek. He lingers there for a moment, before leaning back. His face is red, his eyes dark, and his voice a rasp. "That what you want?"

You should say no. You should push him away.

You lift your hand over your head to grab his chin and pull him closer. "Yes," you breathe, trying your best to kiss his mouth from this angle.

It's hard, you only manage to lightly brush his lips, before Rafael descends on you like a starved dog.

His body closes in, enveloping yours, warm and wanting. He shifts his hips, and you feel his desire hard on your butt cheeks. You don't even have the time to process it before Rafael is rolling his hips into you, drawing grunts and moans, hands fervently closing on the handles of hips. You arch your back, neck resting on his shoulder as Rafael ruts into you, breathing hard against your neck.

You're both clothed, but it's as if you can feel him through the layers. You buckle back, trying to keep a rhythm, but it's impossible because Rafael moves in a frenzy.

*if Romanus is female

"Beautiful," he mumbles, one hand leaving your hip to slip past your loose shirt. You feel the fingers shaking. "You're goddamn beautiful." He palms your stomach, sloppily kissing your ear, your cheek, your neck, your jaw. He bites the side of your mouth as his knuckles brush the underside of your breast.

Rafael moans loudly.

"You're so..." He holds the soft flesh in his palm, seeming to weigh it. You're prepared for him to be rough like he's being with the rest of you, but instead, he turns gentle. His thumb circles your nipple as he drinks in the sweat from your neck. "Fucking perfect."

His index finger joins in, rolling your nipple, and you buckle wildly into the air. But Rafael has you. His other hand circles your waist, pulling you flush to his chest, his erection still hard on your lower back. "Wanted this for so long," he mumbles, squeezing your breast now. "Wanted you for so long. Ever seen I saw you. Fuck me, I'm that pitiful."

"Rafel," you begin but are interrupted when he pinches your nipple. You jolt in his arms, and he takes advantage to thrust his hips into you.

"Would like ta taste it," he mumbles, looking down your chest with furrowed brows. He then tears your shirt open, putting your heaving chest in view. You see him licking his lips, his eyes blown wide.

You can't believe how much you want him. "Later," you say, pulling on his hair. You want to kiss him.

But Rafael looks up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. "There'll be another time?"

"I—" You close your mouth. You don't know what to say. He looks at you as if he's a dying man in the desert who just found water. "If this is worth my while," you say, all bravado ruined by how breathless you sound.

Rafael's face hardens. "It will fuckin' be," he promises and slams his mouth on top of yours.

You moan when his tongue pushes past your teeth, as sloppy and eager as the rest of him. Rafael kisses you as if he doesn't believe he'll have a later time. And you drown in him, in his taste and warmth. You drown—

His nimble fingertips dive past your pants. "Ah," you gasp, breaking the kiss. A string of saliva connects you two when he smirks.

"Gonna show you how good my fingers are," Rafael says, not wasting any time. Two fingers find your entrance, pressing in lightly while his thumb draws circles on your clit.

You spasm. Rafael holds you. Your nails make red lines on his neck and shoulder, but he grunts every time you scratch him, so you dig in harder.

"You're sensitive," he notes as if he speaks to himself. "Gonna find all your special places." He's kissing your cheek again. "Gonna make you cum on my fingers, then on m—"

"Rafael, shut up," you say, the sound too much like a plea. You tug him again. His fingers are caressing you, but you need more.

"Can't," Rafale answers between fervent kisses. "Won't." But finally, he dives a single digit into you.

You clench hard, legs shaking. His groan is so low and guttural, that you feel yourself getting wetter. "Fuck, you're tight," the blabbermouth keeps going. "Been a while, uh?"

You'd die of embarrassment if he wasn't touching you so deliciously.

"Been a while for me too," he admits, adding another finger. His lips burn a trail up your neck and lodge themselves on the side of your mouth. "Thought about paying for a whore, just to get ya out of my system."

You don't even know what to say to that. You choose to focus on his hand, on the friction on your walls when he moves his fingers in and out. In and...

"But I knew it would only make me feel worse," Rafael mumbles. "Feel disgusting. Not like this."

"Will you shut up?" you let out in frustration. You were starting to get there — that blissful precipice.

Rafael chuckles. "You ain't quiet," he points out as he plucks another moan from you. "Wouldn't want you to. I like your pretty voice too. Like it better like this."

"Raf."

"Saying my name." He adds a third finger and presses his thumb hard on your bundle of nerves. You all but melt against him. "Say it again."

You bite your lip.

"Again," he commands, rhythm quickening.

"Shut." You pull his head towards you and look him straight in the eyes. "Up!"

Rafael's eyebrows rise high. He looks down at you, and then, the bastard smiles, and you'll be damned, but he looks so handsome then. "Make me," he growls, lips catching your bottom one and biting.

The pain helps. You groan against him, your hand closing on his throat, and you kiss him deep, turning in his arms. Rafael’s hands fall away as you claw at him, nails dragging down his arms, his shoulders, digging into his back. Your chest is screaming for air when you finally let him go, pushing his neck away.

He's panting, lips swollen, red lines on his face and neck. You ponder clasping your lips on his neck until it marks like he's done to you, but you have a better idea.

You put your hands on his chest and push.

"Oh." Rafael goes down, falling flat on his back. Before he can sit up, you climb into his lap, sitting on his spread thighs.

"Not one sound," you say, enjoying the view of him sprawled below you. His shirt is half undone, and his hair is tossed in all directions.

Rafael’s only answer is a bump of his hips.

You feel him again, still hard, and smile. "Must be hurting," you tease, one hand caressing down his chest, lowering to his stomach.

The bastard laughs breathlessly. "Like hell, baby."

You bite your cheek, but you can't stop your smile. He's happy, and you find you like to see him happy. "Then you'll be quiet while I take care of you."

"I'll try," he says, not very convincingly. His thumbs are on the jutting points of your hips, drawing small, encouraging circles.

You find the laces of his pants, and pull them open, a bit more eagerly than you would have wanted. You grope him above the fabric and drink his moan. "That's not being quiet," you tut, looking at him through your lashes.

He looks like a ruined man. "I won't talk," Rafael says, hands tensing. "But I can't stop the rest."

You smile and look down, finally lowering his pants. He is... your cheeks flush at his size. You want him inside you.

Losing all pretenses, you kick your pants off and rise on your knees. Rafael sits up, one hand on your spine, supporting you, while the other clutches your leg. He's seeking your gaze, and when he finds it, you can't break it. You push your forehead against him, breathing in his breaths, your hand on his cheek, as you lower yourself...

A creaking sound.

You swing your head in time to see the door to the hideout opening, but there's no time for you to yell stop before a shape steps inside.

Your body is frozen on top of Rafael as a dumbfounded Hadrian stands in the doorway.

Oh no.

His green eyes take you in, then fly to Rafael. Then look at you again. Hadrian’s cheeks flood red, his ears even redder, and his mouth flaps as uselessly as yours.

Oh no. No, no, no.

An eerie, bone-chill silence follows.

"God damn it," Rafael snaps back into life. He grabs your waist, and you can only follow as he lifts you to the side in a surprisingly gentle manner. He scrambles to his feet, tucking himself in his pants, with cheeks almost as red as Hadrian's. "What're you doin' here?"

"Uh," Hadrian very eloquently answers.

Rafael takes large steps towards him. "Get out!" he says, pointing at the door. "Get the hell out."

But Hadrian locks eyes with you, and you suddenly understand. "It's alright, Hadrian," you say, your voice soft and broken with embarrassment.

Only then does Hadrian turn on his heels and march out. Rafael is breathing hard by the door with his fists clenched and his head lowered.

You lick your lips, wishing you had something to hold onto. A blanket, maybe. Or Rafel. You want to hold onto him. "Raf?" you call.

The bastard, your thief, slowly turns back. His brows are dark and furrowed, and his eyes narrowed in a way you know so well. "He thinks what? I'm gonna hurt you?"

Your gaze softens. "No," you lie. "It's not that."

"Then what?" he snaps. He's all tense, the joyfulness of early erased.

You extend a hand towards him, beckoning him closer. Rafael hesitates, before coming, as you knew he would. "Listen to me," you say as he takes your hand. You tug him, and Rafael lowers to your level. "Hadrian just worries in general. About me, about Alessa."

Rafael's frown deepens. You lean in and kiss his cheek. "He'll come around you. They all will."

Rafael looks down at your joined hands. "Yeah? How can you be sure?"

"Well..." You smile. "I did.”

He slowly raises his face, eyes searching yours. You can't name what you see there. Only that it's raw and more intense than either of you is ready to name right now.

So, Rafael slowly smirks back. "Ya did?" he says, hand pulling you closer.

You nod, welcoming his lips on yours.

"Do you still do?" he asks when he breaks the kiss, the meaning clear by the way his fingers cup your breast. "Cause I want to taste this now."

"Yes," you say, laughing when he ducks his head and closes his lips around you. Pushing all aside but him.

*if Romanus is male

"Beautiful," he mumbles, one hand leaving your hip to slip past your loose shirt. You feel the fingers shaking. "You're goddamn beautiful." He palms your stomach, sloppily kissing your ear, your cheek, your neck, your jaw.

"You're so..." His hands continue to roam over your chest, groping and squeezing. You'd think he maps your body to memory. His thumb circles your nipple as he drinks in the sweat from your neck. "Fucking perfect."

His index finger joins in, rolling your nipple, and you buckle wildly into the air. But Rafael has you. His other hand circles your waist, pulling you flush to his chest, his erection still hard on your lower back. "Wanted this for so long," he mumbles. "Wanted you for so long. Ever seen I saw you. Fuck me, I'm that pitiful."

"Rafel," you begin but are interrupted when he pinches your nipple. You jolt in his arms, and he takes advantage to thrust his hips into you.

"Would like ta taste it," he mumbles, looking down your chest with furrowed brows. He then tears your shirt open, putting your heaving chest in view. You see him licking his lips, his eyes blown wide.

You can't believe how much you want him. "Later," you say, pulling on his hair. You want to kiss him.

But Rafael looks up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. "There'll be another time?"

"I—" You close your mouth. You don't know what to say. He looks at you as if he's a dying man in the desert who just found water. "If this is worth my while," you say, all bravado ruined by how breathless you sound.

Rafael's face hardens. "It will fuckin' be," he promises and slams his mouth on top of yours.

You moan when his tongue pushes past your teeth, as sloppy and eager as the rest of him. Rafael kisses you as if he doesn't believe he'll have a later time. And you drown in him, in his taste and warmth. You drown—

His nimble fingertips dive past your pants. "Ah," you gasp, breaking the kiss. A string of saliva connects you two when he smirks.

"Gonna show you how good my fingers are," Rafael says, not wasting any time. He wraps his hand around you, moving fast.

Your nails make red lines on his neck and shoulder, but he grunts every time you scratch him, so you dig in harder.

"You're sensitive," he notes as if he speaks to himself. "Gonna find all your special places." He's kissing your cheek again. "Gonna make you cum on my fingers, then on m—"

"Rafael, shut up," you say, the sound too much like a plea. You tug him again. His fingers are caressing you, but you need more.

"Can't," Rafale answers between fervent kisses. "Won't."

He twits his fist, and you clench hard. His answering groan is low and guttural. "Fuck, you're eager," the blabbermouth keeps going. "Been a while, uh?"

You'd die of embarrassment if he wasn't touching you so deliciously.

"Been a while for me too," he admits. His lips burn a trail up your neck and lodge themselves on the side of your mouth. "Thought about paying for a whore, just to get ya out of my system."

You don't even know what to say to that. You choose to focus on his hand, on the friction when he moves his hand up and down. Up and...

"But I knew it would only make me feel worse," Rafael mumbles. "Feel disgusting. Not like this."

"Will you shut up?" you let out in frustration. You were starting to get there — that blissful precipice.

Rafael chuckles. "You ain't quiet," he points out as he plucks another moan from you. "Wouldn't want you to. I like your pretty voice too. Like it better like this."

"Raf."

"Saying my name." He swipes his thumb on your tip. You all but melt against him. "Say it again."

You bite your lip.

"Again," he commands, rhythm quickening.

"Shut." You pull his head towards you and look him straight in the eyes. "Up!"

Rafael's eyebrows rise high. He looks down at you, and then, the bastard smiles, and you'll be damned, but he looks so handsome then. "Make me," he growls, lips catching your bottom one and biting.

The pain helps. You groan against him, your hand closing on his throat, and you kiss him deep, turning in his arms. Rafael’s hands fall away as you claw at him, nails dragging down his arms, his shoulders, digging into his back. Your chest is screaming for air when you finally let him go, pushing his neck away.

He's panting, lips swollen, red lines on his face and neck. You ponder clasping your lips on his neck until it marks like he's done to you, but you have a better idea.

You put your hands on his chest and push.

"Oh." Rafael goes down, falling flat on his back. Before he can sit up, you climb into his lap, sitting on his spread thighs.

"Not one sound," you say, enjoying the view of him sprawled below you. His shirt is half undone, and his hair is tossed in all directions.

Rafael’s only answer is a bump of his hips.

You feel him again, still hard, and smile. "Must be hurting," you tease, one hand caressing down his chest, lowering to his stomach.

The bastard laughs breathlessly. "Like hell, baby."

You bite your cheek, but you can't stop your smile. He's happy, and you find you like to see him happy. "Then you'll be quiet while I take care of you."

"I'll try," he says, not very convincingly. His thumbs are on the jutting points of your hips, drawing small, encouraging circles.

You find the laces of his pants, and pull them open, a bit more eagerly than you would have wanted. You grope him above the fabric and drink his moan. "That's not being quiet," you tut, looking at him through your lashes.

He looks like a ruined man. "I won't talk," Rafael says, hands tensing. "But I can't stop the rest."

You smile and look down, finally lowering his pants. He is... your cheeks flush at his size.

Losing all pretenses, you kick your pants off and rise on your knees. Rafael sits up, one hand on your spine, supporting you, while the other clutches your leg. He's seeking your gaze, and when he finds it, you can't break it. You push your forehead against him, breathing in his breaths, your hand on his cheek, as you come closer...

A creaking sound.

You swing your head in time to see the door to the hideout opening, but there's no time for you to yell stop before a shape steps inside.

Your body is frozen on top of Rafael as a dumbfounded Hadrian stands in the doorway.

Oh no.

His green eyes take you in, then fly to Rafael. Then look at you again. Hadrian’s cheeks flood red, his ears even redder, and his mouth flaps as uselessly as yours.

Oh no. No, no, no.

An eerie, bone-chill silence follows.

"God damn it," Rafael snaps back into life. He grabs your waist, and you can only follow as he lifts you to the side in a surprisingly gentle manner. He scrambles to his feet, tucking himself in his pants, with cheeks almost as red as Hadrian's. "What're you doin' here?"

"Uh," Hadrian very eloquently answers.

Rafael takes large steps towards him. "Get out!" he says, pointing at the door. "Get the hell out."

But Hadrian locks eyes with you, and you suddenly understand. "It's alright, Hadrian," you say, your voice soft and broken with embarrassment.

Only then does Hadrian turn on his heels and march out. Rafael is breathing hard by the door with his fists clenched and his head lowered.

You lick your lips, wishing you had something to hold onto. A blanket, maybe. Or Rafel. You want to hold onto him. "Raf?" you call.

The bastard, your thief, slowly turns back. His brows are dark and furrowed, and his eyes narrowed in a way you know so well. "He thinks what? I'm gonna hurt you?"

Your gaze softens. "No," you lie. "It's not that."

"Then what?" he snaps. He's all tense, the joyfulness of early erased.

You extend a hand towards him, beckoning him closer. Rafael hesitates, before coming, as you knew he would. "Listen to me," you say as he takes your hand. You tug him, and Rafael lowers to your level. "Hadrian just worries in general. About me, about Alessa."

Rafael's frown deepens. You lean in and kiss his cheek. "He'll come around you. They all will."

Rafael looks down at your joined hands. "Yeah? How can you be sure?"

"Well..." You smile. "I did.”

He slowly raises his face, eyes searching yours. You can't name what you see there. Only that it's raw and more intense than either of you is ready to name right now.

So, Rafael slowly smirks back. "Ya did?" he says, hand pulling you closer.

You nod, welcoming his lips on yours.

"Do you still do?" he asks when he breaks the kiss, the meaning clear by the way his fingers cup your groin. "Cause I want to taste this now."

"Yes," you say, laughing when he ducks his head and closes his lips around you. Pushing all aside but him.