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The minute you settle at the bar of The Bloomshore Club downtown, you immediately realize that you’re overdressed.
The patrons in simple t-shirts and jeans to your left and right visibly shrink away at the sight of your silk, strapless maxi dress, its blood maroon color twisting tightly around the gentle curves of your body. A slit that rises up to your thigh showcases a teasing preview of your exposed leg. You figured showing a little extra skin wouldn’t hurt in the quest for your next wedding date.
Though now that you’ve sat down and fully thought about your plan, your confidence begins to crack.
Maybe styling your hair in a complicated updo and putting on your shiniest, crystal earrings was too much after all. Rather than a low profile single girl looking to have fun, you probably look more like you’ve just broken off your engagement to your long term fiance and have come here to sulk, get drunk, and hook up with a one night stand for revenge.
Maybe Tara had recommended the wrong club after all.
Nervousness begins to settle into the pit of your stomach.
“What can I get for you, gorgeous?”
The bartender, a cute blonde with braided hair and friendly eyes, approaches you with a smile and two empty wine glasses in her hand. The metal nametag pinned on her shirt reads, Kate.
You almost heave a sigh of relief.
A drink is exactly what you need at a time like this.
“A Long Island would be great.” you attempt your best to smile back. Here you are dressed to the nines, having confidently sat by your lonesome, intending to flirt and hook in your next victim, but you look absolutely miserable instead. Along with the liquor, you could definitely use an additional confidence boost.
As Kate fixes up your drink, efficiently concocting a mixture of vodka, gin, and juice into a shaker, you muster up the courage to speak over the loud music.
“Hey, um, can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Kate looks up without missing a beat. “Fire away.”
“How do I look tonight?”
A flicker of surprise sparks in her eyes, and for a moment you think you may have offended her. Kate takes a moment to add in a dash of Triple sec into your drink followed by some sweetener before responding.
“I’m surprised you have to ask,” she lifts a teasing brow, smiling when you offer her an embarrassed grin. “But if I must say it out loud, I think you’re smoking hot and belong out on the dance floor. Preferably with me, but I’m not allowed to flirt with my patrons during working hours.”
Her compliments unexpectedly warms your chest, instantly encouraging you to sit up a little straighter in your seat.
“You think so?” you glance down at your clothes. “You don’t think this is all….too much?”
“Oh my dear, you’re just simply overthinking it,” Kate roughly shakes your Long Island mixture before pouring everything into a tall glass and cutting up a lemon wedge. “If you came out here to steal hearts, that dress of yours is already yanking them out of people’s chests. Have more confidence in yourself.”
After sticking the lemon wedge onto the lip of the cup, she slides your completed Long Island over to you across the counter. “Now get out there and do your thing.”
Kate’s sweet talking successfully wins back the energy you walked into the club with.
After taking long sips of your drink for a few minutes, you let the comfortable warmth spread across your chest as you gear up for the dance floor.
Dancing alone is a bit awkward, so you slowly inch towards the most conglomerated part of the floor to hopefully catch the attention of someone in a group. Most people are already locked in with a partner, dancing so closely to each other that they’re borderline grinding.
You clench your jaw and try not to remember the last time you were at a place like this, five years ago when your scumbag of an ex decided he’d dance and “accidentally make out” with one of your best girl friends.
It was a hard reality check to realize you were only with him because he made you feel wanted, albeit just like how he apparently made every other girl feel. Behind your back, he was filling his hook up roster while he left you alone, empty, and wondering if it was you that was the problem. It was always about how desired you felt instead of how fulfilled he made you.
But you won’t make the same mistake again.
This time, you will get what you want, which in the moment is a stand-in date to your friend’s wedding.
Focusing on just yourself and the music, you let yourself feel the bouncing rhythm and ride the beat.
It doesn’t take long for a man to sidle up to your side.
At first, he maintains a respectable distance, cautiously eyeing you from the corner of his eyes. His blue, buttoned up shirt and jeans suggest he’s either here to destress after work or bag a potential sugar baby. You’re not quite sure of his age, but his slightly receding hairline suggests he’s most likely almost two decades older than you.
He also seems to be with a couple of friends who are now heading to the bar, but he strays behind and maneuvers himself closer to you.
“You come here alone?” he nods, saying the words directly into your ear, and his hot and invasive breath on your ear sends an uncomfortable tingle down your spine.
His beady eyes struggle to avoid the low cut of your dress just above your breasts.
It’s the wrong question to ask a lady who is indeed alone on the dance floor.
You gaze unconsciously slips to Kate at the bar, but she's currently serving multiple patrons with her back turned towards you.
Ok, relax. You try not to cave into instant panic. You came here to attract attention and you’ve got it. Now make him back off.
“I’m a single mom,” you blurt out, speaking a little too loudly out of anxiousness. Your words are overheard by the group next to you and a few of them turn curiously, as if catching a whiff of the hottest tea they’ll be sure to tell at house parties. “Er- I mean- that’s why I’m technically…..not alone.”
You blubber out and nearly whisper the last part, horror creeping up your face.
So much for letting him down easy.
At least there’s a greater chance he may just run away from you now.
“Oh,” the man seems a bit shocked at first, but steps a little closer after some hesitation. “Is that problem?” he loops a bold arm around your waist. “I do love children.”
Oh. Oh no.
Goosebumps crawl from under your skin. You just had to attract the local creep. The panic you’ve been forcing down rises to your throat as you evaluate your options.
Abort mission, abort now, run to the nearest-
“Excuse us, but do you have business with my date?”
Your nose registers his scent before you can identify the new voice that swoops in from behind you. For the lack of a better term, he smells…..expensive.
Like you’ve walked straight into a Dior Homme store as a VIP customer and have a $300 glass of alcohol shoved in your face as a thank you for your patronage.
The creepy man in front of you has gone pale. His mouth opens and closes for a moment with no sound escaping.
Curiously, you turn and look up to a sharp, handsome face and a pair of strikingly red eyes.
Its familiar and striking crimson shade instantly reminds you of your dress. The newcomer is tall and intimidating, his wide shoulders puffed up proudly. His styled, snow-white hair clashes with the tinge of blood red in his pupils. Combined with his effortlessly slick suit and polished dress shoes, he looks almost otherworldly.
You understand why the creep naturally shrivels under the man’s withering gaze.
“Well?” he cocks a brow, crossing his arms over his chest demandingly. His voice dips down to a near rumble as he narrows his eyes challengingly at the man. “Where did all of that perverted confidence go from before?”
“What an ass,” the middle aged man scowls, turning his anger towards you, presumably because his fragile masculinity can’t accept the competition in front of him. Typical. “Could’ve told me you had a sour puss of a boyfriend.”
Before you can curse him out, your mystery savior steps in between you, shielding your view of the pervert.
“I believe you would be the sour puss in this situation. Now are you going to scram, or will I have to use force?”
The club music switching to a mixture of techno and hip hop beats drowns out the rest of their conversation, but you make out a few curses including a particularly loud, lying bitch! towards you. Sylus allows him to seeth a bit more before the pervert finally leaves and slinks off to his group of friends.
Turning back to you, your mystery man smirks.
“Well that was an intriguing way to start my evening.”
You only take a few seconds to consider before making your move. Without so much as answering him, you take his wrist and give it a light tug.
“Come with me.”
You word it as a command, but pause to see how he reacts as a way to ask for permission.
The man nods silently, though his smirk never leaves his lips, even when you lead him to the back towards the VIP rooms where the music is dulled down by high, private walls. While this hallway is usually filled with guards on weekends, today is a Tuesday night so the place is desolate even at 9 pm. The private and intimate atmosphere is a stark contrast against the active crowd on the dance floor.
Silently thanking the alcohol for fueling your boldness, you come to a stop in front of a room in the corner. You let go of the man’s wrist and turn to face him.
“Sorry about that. I wanted to take this somewhere quieter.”
“Oh? “ his mischievous eyes peer into yours. “And what do you intend to do with me outside of a VIP room?”
If anyone else had said it, you would have cringed and ran for the hills. But his smooth delivery paired with his strikingly handsome features sparks a flame of excitement inside you instead. Under his teasing gaze, you find yourself unable to look away, even if your cheeks are heating from embarrassment.
You doubt you could ever get the upper hand while facing a man with such composure.
But you wanted to snag a date who would leave an impression, and so far, this man is checking off that box and more.
“I just needed a quieter place to talk,” you look up at him steadily. “Thank you for stepping in earlier. And if I could overstep a little more, I have a proposition for you.”
The man lifts an intrigued brow.
“I doubt this is the type of discussion you want to have in a random VIP hallway.”
As if on cue, a giggling couple enters the other side of the hall hand in hand, closely followed by a guard with a set of keys. Before any of them can notice you, a strong hand tugs at your elbow to move you out of the way, and the man in front of you pulls out his own key from his pocket.
Twisting the key’s loophole around his index finger, he parades it in front of you before unlocking the door.
“Let’s talk inside.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The VIP room is the largest you’ve seen. Granted, you’ve only ever been in one before for a coworker’s farewell dinner, and the medium sized room fit about twelve people at the time. This one, however, is about the size of two living rooms put together. Plush, velvet couches and love seats are spread against the long walls. Three, large buckets of complementary wine and whiskey line the glass table by the door with smoking, dry ice piled underneath the bottles.
To top it all off, an extra wide inch TV is mounted against the far end of the wall.
Feeling right at home, your mystery man casually loosens the top buttons of his dress shirt and takes two wine glasses from the counter.
“Shall we start with introductions and a drink?”
He picks up a Chardonnay from the bucket with gold foiling around the rim and liberally pours some in one glass.
“Oh, um-” you gulp, suddenly wondering how much money this man is worth considering he just let you inside the most exclusive VIP room in Bloomshore
and
can afford their fancy wine buckets. “That’s ok. I just had a drink.”
“Which one?”
The question catches you so off guard that you nearly tumble off the loveseat you were settling into.
“What?”
“I like to introduce myself by stating my favorite drink with my name,” he says it so seriously you half expect him to laugh and declare it’s just a joke. But then he continues, “Mine is a Cheval Blanc. And my name is Sylus.”
“Expensive taste for an expensive man,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. At this point, it’s best to humor him for the best odds at accepting your proposal. “I’m Y/N. I’m broke enough to just afford a Long Island.”
Sylus chuckles lightly, briefly softening the sharp features of his nose and jawline, and you realize out of nowhere that the jagged yet flowing syllables in his name suits him.
“Ah, and yet you managed to enter one of the most exclusive clubs in Linkon. I wouldn’t say broke is a part of your profile.” he takes a light sip and sits on the tuxedo couch beside you, crossing his legs in an assertive manner.
“Well, I do have the right connections to get a free pass,” you shrug, referring to your circle of friends which mostly consist of heiresses to either clubbing businesses or bank corporations. Unfortunately, you can’t rely on them to find you a wedding date, “Almost. Which is why I need your help filling in the role.”
“And what exactly is this role?” Sylus cocks his head slightly to the side with a knowing look in his eyes. “Your fake boyfriend?”
Your heart skips at least thrice in surprise.
Sylus props his chin on his free hand, amusement dancing on his face..
“Did I hit the bullseye?”
“You…”
You should have known. Given his suave aura, his keen perception, and his piercingly knowing eyes, you might as well be an open book laid out in front of him page by page.
“I normally ignore women seeking to use me, but it’s not everyday that a beautiful one intrigues me,” Sylus maintains eye contact while emptying his wine glass. “Though I did also choose to intervene earlier, so I’m giving you permission to ask me for whatever it is that you need.”
A mixture of annoyance and giddiness flares in your chest. You want to punch his smug face but also blush at his smooth words at the same time. While he obviously (and annoyingly) read your motives before you even offered your proposition, you’re also out of options. Unless you’d willingly go back to scrolling pointlessly through countless dating apps.
Your best bet is to focus on your objective, self pride be damned.
”One of my best friends is going to get married in a month,” you finally give in. “Everyone will have their respective plus ones, excluding me. I need a fake date to get me through the entire ceremony and reception.”
“And you haven’t considered just…going alone?” Sylus frowns.
“It’s not that easy.” you sigh, wondering how to explain to this stranger you’ve just met that years of failed relationships and a devastating break up has led you to five years of being single. Five, long years of being the third wheel, the independent, cool aunt, the pity party during Valentine’s, and worst of all, most recently, the only single one in your friend group who are all either engaged or already hitched.
It shouldn’t be a big deal, really. You’ve lasted a whole decade without dating anyone before. But that was during a time when you weren’t in your late 20s being judged for still not settling down. For not finding your ‘person’ yet. For being somehow undesirable for not having a man even if you’ve remained single by choice.
“I shouldn’t have to rely on a man to make me feel seen,” you continue, now beginning to ramble out of frustration instead of explaining your proposition to Sylus. “But I’m tired of the 20 questions I get every time I attend a social function with most of them intruding on my love life. So fake boyfriend it is.”
“Oh, sweetie,” Sylus tsks, setting his empty wine glass down on the nearest coffee table. “You’re overthinking all of this. Social constructs are nothing but a charade for the insecure.”
“Easy to say when you’re an assertive man who’s highly favored by society.“ you scoff, a bit hurt from his comment suggesting your own projected insecurities. “Bet you haven’t been asked when you plan to birth out kids before your eggs expire.”
“Favorable isn’t always a good thing. I don’t enjoy being idolized when I’m far from perfect.”
Huh.
You hadn’t expected him to lower his ego even the slightest. Although even with his admission of not wanting attention, he seems to naturally attract it. Which is exactly what you need in order to pull your stunt and ward off all the unsolicited interest in your dating life for the unforeseeable future.
“Well, I happen to be in need of a little favoritism,” you lift your chin and will yourself to look as domineering as Sylus presents himself to be. “Are you willing to help me?”
“What’s in it for me?” Sylus leans forward and props an elbow on his lap.
“I can provide monetary compensation.”
“Hm,” he shakes his head, that sharp glint returning to his eyes. “I’m not interested in money. Is there something else that you can provide me?”
“Sex is off limits.” you deadpan.
Sylus heartily chuckles.
“I was kidding. I like to think of myself as a gentleman when conducting business with ladies. My only condition for this charade is that I give you a ride and I get to pick our outfits.”
“That’s it?” you stare back at him with a bewildered look. You hadn’t considered him as the type to care about fashion. Though it makes sense considering the current, expensive looking suit he has on. In any case, if he comes from money, it would be in your best interest to take advantage of it. “As long as you’re paying for my dress, then I guess we have a deal. I’ll send you the color motif for the bridesmaids if you’ll give me your contact details.”
“Seems like we’ve come to an agreement,” Sylus leans over the coffee table between you and holds out a large hand. “Shall we shake on it?”
Feeling all of the built up tension in your body release and flow out of your tight muscles, you genuinely grin and take his hand.
“We shall.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Over the next few weeks, you and Sylus exchange sporadic texts while you plan out your grand scheme. You send him a picture of the invitation along with a few notes on your circle of friends who’ll be attending. Although he doesn’t necessarily have to know them closely, you assume he should at least know their names and general profiles in the event that you’re bombarded with questions. Along with your notes, you also concoct a general story of how you met and began ‘dating,’ which closely aligns with how you met at the Bloomshore club, minus the whole fake dating arrangement.
Despite only having limited knowledge on the specifics of the wedding, he somehow manages to order your dress and have it shipped to your doorstep a mere two weeks after sending him your measurements.
On a Saturday morning, you unbox the parcel on your living room floor, carefully unwrapping a velvet box with your name written on the tag in neat cursive. You don’t have to hold the tag close to your nose to detect a hint of perfume sprayed on it. Intrigued, you flip it over and discover a note written by Sylus.
To my wedding plus one: I added a little gift for you to wear with the dress. See you on our first date.
-Sylus
You smirk at his usual mischievousness. Technically, the wedding will be the second time that you meet, and hence, your first date as a fake couple.
Removing the top of the box, your breath catches at the dress in front of you.
Its burgundy colored fabric is made of silk and velvet, with silver glitter scattered across the entire expanse. Under the light, the dress seems to dance on its own. Its champagne shape was made for your body, with the chest and hip areas curving widely before cinching back in to follow your precise measurements. Without even trying it on, you can clearly envision yourself wearing this dress.
Sylus has truly outdone himself.
You carefully store the dress in your closet and perfect your makeup and hairstyle for the next two weeks, even splurging a few extra bucks on a pair of silver kitten heels that matched your outfit and other accessories.
By the time the day of the wedding rolls around, you feel both prepared and anxious. You spend so much time fixing your elaborate updo that you barely manage to finish getting ready by your agreed meeting time.
And in his true, punctual fashion, Sylus knocks on your door exactly one minute before three pm.
“Coming!” you shout breathlessly towards the door as you dash around your kitchen counter to grab your bag, hurriedly slipping on your heels at the doorway before exhaling and letting Sylus in. “Sorry,” you breathe out, smiling tightly at him. “Spent way too much time on my braid.”
Sylus doesn’t respond immediately. He remains frozen at your doorway, his eyes laser focused on you with a bit of surprise laced in his expression.
It’s only now that you notice his bowtie and suit tastefully matches your dress.
“Sylus?” you tilt your head at him, and you watch his gaze snap into reality. Recomposing himself, he clears his throat.
“I was just admiring how beautiful you look in my personally designed dress,” he says smoothly, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. You flush as his top lip brushes against your knuckles. “ And you wore the perfume I gave you. I am a lucky man tonight.”
“You don’t need to provide all the lip service.” you stammer, now feeling like even your ears are on fire.
“It’s the truth,” Sylus shrugs, loosening his grip on your hand and fishing for something in his pocket. “And what did I say about being a gentleman?”
“Generally, real gentlemen don’t have to point out that they are one.” you snort.
“Does a fake gentleman also do this?”
Procuring a corsage from his pocket, Sylus carefully unwraps a red rose and ties it around your wrist. Once he secures the ribbon by tying a surprisingly neat bow, he releases your hand and gently pats the matching rose pinned on his breast pocket.
His ntire ensemble only brings out the red in his eyes, his pupils shining slightly brighter under the sunlight and illuminating the soft points of his face.
He seems like an entirely different man in the daytime where he can’t hide in the night’s shadows.
That, or it's the suit. A well tailored suit on a masculine body with a tapered waist and wide shoulders will always look good.
“How’s the view?” Sylus doesn’t miss the way your gaze lingers over his body.
Conceited as always.
Though you can’t blame him. Fake or not, he takes the cake for the most beautiful date you’ve ever brought to any event.
Knowing your friends, they’ll likely cause an uproar when you introduce Sylys. Especially the bride, Jenna.
“I was just thinking about how you might steal the thunder at the wedding while looking like that.” you say honestly before your brain can process what your lips just said.
“Oh, so you think I look handsome?” Sylus proudly adjusts his suit pocket, sidling closer to you by stepping through the doorway..
“Don’t push it,” you stop him by placing a hand on his chest. “We’ll see what everyone else thinks when we show up arm-in-arm.”
“Then there’s no time to waste,” Sylus folds his arm for you as an invitation to take it. “Time to hit the runway.”
Looping your hand through the crook of his elbow, you have a feeling it won’t take much to impress your friends.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
While Jenna’s wedding reception is to be held indoors, the wedding vows will be taking place outdoors at a park on the grounds of a private mansion. As you drive through the open roads of the city, Sylus takes the liberty of opening the hood of his Cabriole convertible without warning.
“Hey!” you attempt to hold on to the updo you worked so hard on earlier this morning. “Watch my hair!”
Though you don’t hear him do it, you can see Sylus visibly tsk in response from behind the wheel.
“Hair is meant to look a little windswept,” he shrugs. “How else are we supposed to flaunt this luxury car without visible evidence?”
Grumbling to yourself, you concede. If you really want to sell your story, showing up a bit disheveled after a joyride will surely stop the rumors of your “single and alone” status for a long, long time. Even after Sylus is no longer a part of your charade.
When you arrive at the entrance outside of the banquet hall by the park, you immediately feel several sets of eyes locking in on you. Sylus pays them no mind and purposely parks in an open spot by the gardens where more people are gathered. Opening the passenger door for you, he takes your hand before walking through the back gate, which is intricately decorated with white balloons and white roses.
Some guests are already seated at the rows of iron garden chairs arranged in neat rows across from the officiant’s stand. While people mill about and get in their last minute water and bathroom breaks, the wedding planner and photographer are in deep conversation by the entrance gates.
Even in the crowd, It doesn’t take long for your friends to find you.
“Y/N!” Simone is the first to speak, approaching you in her bridesmaid’s dress. Her modest and classy wrap dress is the exact same color as yours. “Wow, you look amazing! Where did you get that dress?”
Behind her, your coworker, Tara, follows closely behind with her fiance diligently carrying the trail of her dress, exclaiming loudly when she sees Sylus on your arm.
“I think the real question is who is this?”
“Be nice, Tara,” you scold her, implying that she minds her open ogling. “This is Sylus. And Sylus, this is my very nosy coworker, Tara.”
“Try best friend instead,” Tara huffs, holding out a curious hand towards Sylus. “If I’d known Y/N would bring her new boyfriend, I would’ve saved an extra seat!”
“It’s not trouble at all,” Sylus laughs politely, taking Tara’s hand and giving it a shake. “I too was expecting at least a soft launch on Y/N’s social media before being thrusted out to the public.”
You fail to stop yourself from glaring at him.
Sylus wraps an arm around your shoulders cajolingly without missing a beat.
“I kid. I’m honored that my first invite was for one of her dear friend’s wedding. I look forward to attending more and becoming acquainted with Y/N’s precious friends.”
Admittedly, during the last few weeks, you’ve been anxious about how Sylus would perform around your friends. An intimidating face and aura as his could’ve easily caused some discomfort or unease. But judging from Simone and Tara’s reactions (even Simone’s fiance looks mildly impressed), you’re not sure why you were worried in the first place.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Jenna’s wedding ceremony stuns all of her guests as she walks down the aisle just as the sun begins to kiss the horizon. Her fiance, Aidan, is teary eyed for the entirety of the event, and as they exchange their wedding vows, big drops begin to freely pour from his eyes.
In the next row over, you catch sight of Tara emotionally blowing her nose into a wad of tissues and her fiance sympathetically patting her back. Beside her, Simone gently smiles up at her boyfriend, who had arrived a little later to the venue after returning from a business meeting.
“It’s a beautiful wedding.” you look up to find Sylus staring at you, and your heart skips at the gentle look in his eyes.
Normally, despite your friends always including you in their get togethers, you’d still feel a tad lonely accompanying them and their significant others.
Now, it feels strange yet comforting to have someone just for you standing beside you, with eyes on no one else but you.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
After the ceremony and reception dinner, Jenna finally corners you and Sylus at the banquet hall at your assigned table. Whispering something in Aiden’s ear, she dismisses him to another table before taking the empty seat in front of you.
“I know I’ve been busy planning for the wedding, but really now, Y/N? A secret boyfriend ?”
“It hasn’t been that long,” you laugh casually, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel. “If anything, Sylus and I are still getting to know each other.”
While you’d hashed out the general details of your dating life over text, it still feels nerve wracking to play pretend in front of your friends. Truthfully, you didn’t have to do any of this. You could have just gone to the wedding alone as Sylus said when you’d first met.
“Well, new or not, I’m glad we finally found out,” Jenna clasps her hands together delightfully. “Otherwise, I would have set you up on another blind date just two weeks ago!”
Aaand, this is exactly why you were driven to take matters into your own hands.
Although Jenna means well with her constant blind date set-ups for you, it's growing increasingly tiring to reject them. You’ve even humored her by attending a few of them, but each one almost always ended up in a catastrophe or an awkward situation when the men realized your natural independence and wit. It turns out most rich, finance men are offended by a woman who has autonomy and can speak for herself.
Of course, you’ve told Jenna or your friends nothing about these interactions. You were never quite sure how to tell them that maybe rich, egotistic business men weren’t for you. But to each their own.
The least you could do in exchange for their loyal friendship was to smile and nod along.
“You’ve gone on blind dates?” Sylus asks incredulously, leaning closer into the conversation. “Is that why you were so smooth with me in the beginning?”
You cast him a panicked glance. Just last week, you’d drilled into him that
he
should be the one who first made a move. You were supposed to have slowly gotten to know each other through group hang outs at the club. Besides, you hardly ever make the first move when dating someone. Your friends know you well enough and are familiar with your general disinterest in pursuing men. Once again, your date has gone off script.
“Sylus!” you scold him, minding yourself to do so lightly. “You make it sound like I tricked you into dating me.”
“Of course not, sweetie. You seduced me.”
At the other side of the table, Tara and Simone simultaneously guffaw. Jenna’s amused smile widens.
You instinctively hide your face in your hands out of embarrassment.
“I never thought I’d see the day Y/N gets flustered by a man,” Jenna laughs, placing a proud hand on Sylus’ shoulder. “You must be really smitten, Mr……oh.”
Her smile slightly fades as she gets a closer look at Sylus.
“I’m sorry, I never did catch your name. But you somehow look very familiar. Have we met before?”
Ever so slightly, Sylus frowns from the sudden question, the mirth draining from his eyes. His brow furrows seriously and for the first time, he seems to hesitate in speaking his mind. Across of him, Tara and Simone lean in.
“You know….I think I’ve heard of the name Sylus before.” Tara says, turning to Simone. “I swear we’ve been hearing it all month, funnily enough.”
As soon as she mentions it, Simone seems to piece something together, her face lighting up with realization.
“Hold on. Do you happen to be Sylus Ché? ”
Your friends fall silent, and it all feels like they’re in on a joke that only you are missing the punchline of. Even with all of your previous preparation, nothing has prepared you for this curveball.
“Sylus?” you turn to him for help. “What are they talking about?”
His silence only confirms whatever Simone’s suspicion is.
“Ohmygosh, I’m very sorry,” Jenna stutters, looking visibly guilty, but you keep your eyes on the frozen man in front of you. “That was rude of me to intrude. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
“ Sylus, ” you repeat, hissing his name out until he finally looks at you. “Explain. Now.”
Gathering his senses, Sylus clears his throat and excuses himself before standing.
“My apologies, ladies, but you’ll have to excuse us. It seems that Y/N and I are due for a dance.”
He grabs your hand and begins to tug you towards the ballroom floor.
“Of course,” Jenna stands as if to follow, but seems to change her mind at the last second and remains where she is. “If this means you’ll also be leaving early, that’s perfectly fine.”
Casting an apologetic nod towards Jenna and your friends, you allow Sylus to drag you to an empty spot on the floor just as the music changes to a slow dance type of tempo.
“What the hell is going on and who is Sylus Ché ?” you speak lowly as you place one threatening hand in his and the other on his shoulder. You still have half of an audience around you after all. No wonder you’d felt some curious eyes on you all evening. Judging from your friends’ reactions, Sylus may not just be the random rich man that you think he is.
“I obviously haven’t been as discreet as I thought I’ve been,” Sylus sighs, falling in step with the music and guiding you to slowly sway with him. “I also wasn’t expecting your friend to get married here specifically.”
“And what about this place?” you narrowly miss stepping on someone’s foot behind you, and Sylus expertly steers you away by the waist. You attempt not to dwell on the warmth of his hands on you.
His eyes sweep over the room to check for spectators before leaning in closer to speak by your left ear.
“I don’t normally volunteer to say this out loud, but I actually own this mansion.”
Sudden realization kicking in, you promptly stumble in your heels and step on Sylus’ toe.
“You’re part of that Ché family?” you manage to whisper it as Sylus barely holds in a pained grunt.
You’d been so caught up in fabricating your dating life that you’d forgotten the billion dollar estate you’re standing on.
Though you didn’t immediately recognize the name when Jenna first mentioned it, you’d be stupid to not eventually connect the dots. The Ché family is, or might as well be, the Kardashians of Linkon with their endless riches and influential family line. But as much gossip as you’ve heard, you don’t think you’ve actually seen what Sylus Ché looks like. According to rumors, his relationship with his father, Baron Ché, was always strained due to Baron’s image as a notorious playboy. His disdain towards his father extended to the relentless media and paparazzi coverage, hence why he avoided the cameras at all costs.
In his prime, Baron used to live at the Ché mansion with his family of four sons. Over time, gossip of his multiple affairs with various women caught up to him, and Victor’s marriage swiftly fell apart when his wife filed for divorce. Even after splitting his assets, he managed to keep the mansion and pass it down to one of his sons. It was unclear to whom exactly he entrusted his estate, but the Ché mansion was eventually converted into a public venue space for rent. If the public’s speculations have been true all along, he’d handed Sylus his mansion out of guilt and as a desperate plea to repair their relationship.
Though Sylus clearly rejected his attempt by giving up half of his ownership.
“I hate mentioning who I am,” he sighs, guiding you to make an impromptu twirl before pulling you back into his arms. “I’m only a Ché by name. Outside of this mansion, I’ve built my club and bar businesses on my own without relying on my father’s money.”
As the current song ends and flows into a new one, you make another realization and stop dancing.
“Please don’t tell me you own the Bloomshore club too.”
Sylus releases you from his hold.
“Well, cat’s out of the bag.”
Maybe it’s the flood of secrets he’d just revealed or the embarrassment of somehow convincing an influential figure to be your fake boyfriend, but the overall situation is suddenly a little too much to bear.
Without so much as a word, you quietly excuse yourself and step out of the ballroom.
Sharp footsteps follow you closely behind, and you duck past your friends’ table and out the door towards the back of the building where you can hide in the darkness. The exit leads to the empty gardens with a grand fountain illuminated by several lamp posts.
Behind you, Sylus closes the door as you lean against the mansion’s brick wall with a sigh.
“Are you angry?”
“Not really,” you mumble, looking up at the vast, starless sky and squinting through the turmoil in your head. “Maybe. You did lie to me. But I’m more mad at myself for coming up with this ridiculous facade in the first place.”
“Don’t tell me you’re regretting it now.”
“Do you?” you don’t quite understand the heavy feeling in your chest. You don’t blame Sylus for hiding his real identity. You were the one who prompted him to lie with you after all. But knowing who he is now, a businessman and entrepreneur who no doubt has better things to do than be your fake boyfriend, you do feel a bit pathetic at the moment.
Your view of the black void above you is blocked by Sylus leaning over your line of sight.
“I have no regrets. And I didn’t take you as someone who doesn’t finish what they start.”
Focusing your gaze back on him, you straighten against the hard wall.
“Why did you decide to help me, Sylus? And don’t tell me you really just wanted to pick out my dress and be my driver for the night.”
Stepping closer to you, Sylus lifts a brow.
“I believe I already answered that question,” his eyes darken, the fountain behind him roaring to life when several spouts of water shoot up into the sky like long arms searching and reaching for the light. A shiver runs from your cheeks to the very tip of your toes as Sylus leans down to speak quietly into your ear. “This was never a game of play pretend for me. After all, it’s not everyday that a beautiful woman intrigues me.”
He echoes his words from the club, leaning in so close that you’re practically sharing the same heartbeat.
Pulling back a little, he gently cups the small of your back and pulls you flush against his chest.
“And don’t you dare question my taste,” he says. “If you doubt my genuine interest in you, then let me assure you myself.”
He turns his head to gently nudge the side of your neck with his nose, inhaling lightly. The thought of wearing the perfume Sylus specifically picked out sends your heartbeat skyrocketing.
“I- I don’t understand.” you stammer, an automatic line of defense kicking in with your instincts. You place a hand against his chest to ground yourself. Surprisingly, the pulse under your fingertips is beating as fast as yours. “Why me?”
“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know you’re capable enough of ignoring who I am and what ridiculous family I come from. Stop overthinking all the social thematics and indulge,” his lips flutter over your cheek as he turns to face you and you feel the final bits of your resolve crumbling. “Now do you want me to kiss you, or not?”
To be honest, you’ve always been attracted to Sylus. From the moment he defended you at his club, you were dead set on him playing the part of your plus one.
Though you hadn’t expected him to win your heart over in a matter of weeks.
And even with the storm of pain and loathing that came with your last heartbreak, you still find yourself melting at his touch.
You answer Sylus by meeting his lips.
He grunts at the impact in surprise, his mouth quickly molding to yours as your bodies collide and your back hits the wall. The kiss is passionate and hurried, as if an iron wall inside of you has finally lifted, and you chase after the high of freedom greedily. Sylus’ hands find your hips to keep you close, and you eagerly wrap your arms around his shoulders and run your fingers through the base of his neck.
Groaning into your mouth, his tongue swipes against your bottom lip for permission, and you barely manage to contain your knees from buckling when you part your lips and swallow his ragged breaths.
You tug him towards you until his hips bump yours, instinctively bucking against him, and you nearly cave at the feeling of his arousal hot and hard on your thigh.The seering contact has you imagining several inappropriate scenarios that all end with you on your knees.
Your head spins from a new, awakened desire.
Sylus must feel it too. With a great bout of self control, he abruptly breaks the kiss.
“I’m afraid we’ll need to continue this elsewhere unless you want to see me completely unravel right here.”
His eyes drift to the parking lot next to the garden where his car is parked.
Briefly, you consider rushing back inside to the reception hall and explaining to your friends to salvage the situation, but you can’t find yourself to care enough with a flushed Sylus standing in front of you, his eyes wild and his hair roughly tousled. Somehow, you’ve also managed to unbutton the top two buttons of his dress shirt.
“My apartment,” you breathe out, pushing yourself off the wall and straightening out your dress. “Let’s go back to my place.”
“Are you sure?” he takes your hand and runs his thumb over your wrist. Blazing heat on your skin follows his every touch. “I need you to be completely positive that this is what you want.”
He could be ridiculously aggravating at the most inconvenient times.
“How many times do I have to say it?” you huff, pulling your wrist away. “Take us home before I change my mind and leave you blue balled out here at your own mansion.”
Grinning devilishly, Sylus fishes his car keys out of the left pocket of his noticeably tight pants..
“Yes ma’am.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
In the tight space of the car, it takes a few minutes for Sylus to eventually start the engine with you halfway sprawled onto his lap. Merely managing to peel his lips from yours, he lends back in his seat, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“As much as I’d love to take you right here and now in my backseat, you’re going to have to get off me so we can actually make it to your apartment.”
“What, can’t drive with one hand on the wheel?”
You linger in his lap for a moment, boldly taking his left hand and guiding it to cup your left breast.
Sylus clenches his jaw. A visible muscle there ticks as he withdraws his hand.
“You’re impossible,” he shakes his head, gently pushing you off his lap and shoving the keys into the ignition. “Let’s see what you’ll have to say when I have my way with you. Preferably on a bed.”
Stepping on the pedal, he races back to your place with the speed of a Nascar Cup Series driver. It’s a miracle that he manages to narrowly abide by all traffic laws on his way there.
The rest of the ride is silent, and Sylus remains mute even when he parks in the visitor’s garage and opens the passenger’s door for you. He maintains a respectable distance all the way up the stairs and to your doorstep.
Knowing what you’re inviting him inside for, you fumble around for the house keys in your clutch while Sylus patiently waits behind you to unlock the door.
Once he steps inside, you realize just how big his presence is in your usually lonesome apartment. His towering height nearly reaches the top of the doorframe. As he quietly slips off his shoes and carefully arranges it next to your house slippers, a touch of affection swells in your chest.
Its been a long time since you’ve had a pair of men’s shoes in your home.
Not sure how to break the charged silence, you swallow and turn to Sylus..
“Come.”
You lead him to your room which is situated at the end of the hallway leading out of the kitchen. While the space is on the smaller side, you pride yourself in owning a king sized bed. Before moving in, your goal was to at least splurge on your favorite piece of furniture. After all, late afternoon and early evening naps are a must.
Though you doubt you’ll be getting much sleep tonight.
“Will we have an audience?” Sylus closes the door behind him and smirks at the large teddy bear sitting in the corner of the room. Its small, beady eyes look almost judgemental under the dim lighting of your lamp.
Groaning in half embarrassment, you swiftly rearrange your bear so it sits facing the wall.
“Might as well cover his ears too.” Sylus chuckles.
Striding up to him, you pinch his right cheek.
“Now look who’s being impossible.”
Shaking his head, he catches your hand and tugs you down to sit on his lap.
“I did say I’ll have my way with you as revenge. This is just the beginning.”
His darkened, lustful gaze flickers down to your lips before he kisses you once more. This time, his greedy hands wander freely over your arms and waist, dipping down to slide past the slit of your dress, his fingers grasping the bare skin of your thigh.
“Sylus.” you gasp into his mouth, your legs squeezing together in anticipation.
“Sylus what?” he playfully nips at your ear. His hand stops just at the curve of your ass, lingering at the garter of your panties.
Again, he’s resorted to being insufferable.
Giving in from the desperate ache between your legs, you willingly admit, “I need you.”
“In what way?” Sylus hums into the column of your neck, peppering light kisses along the length of your throat.
“Are you serious?” you huff, turning your head to avoid another kiss. “How many times do I have to consent?”
“As many times as you need until I feel that you truly mean it.”
“I mean it.”
“Then why are you in such a rush?”
Meeting your eyes, Sylus lifts a brow, and his knowing look strikes a chord in your guilty conscience. As annoying as it is, he’s sensed what you’ve been hiding from him all along under the push and pull of your current dynamic.
It seems like there’s no weaseling your way out with this man.
“It’s the sweet talking,” you finally admit. Your eyes focus down on your lap as you speak finally and pour your heart out. “My ex, he- had a silver tongue and always knew what to say to me. Even after all of the cheating. After all this time I thought I was over it. But hearing you say all these nice things to me, I can’t help but still feel a little….scared. That is all fake like I laid it out to be in the beginning.”
“Whoever that bastard is, he suffered a great loss from failing to treasure the diamond in front of him,” Sylus snorts, lifting your chin with his finger and guiding you to look back up at him. “Even if they’re just empty words to you, I don’t believe in senseless hook ups. I wouldn’t have approached you at my own bar myself and ran with your ridiculous fake dating scheme if I was only looking to sleep with you.”
“I know.” you fight back tears from springing to your eyes, not out of sadness but more out of relief.
You hadn’t realized how much you’ve been holding back by letting your past overcome the prospect of a better future.
“We could stop here if you want,” Sylus gently tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “If the mood’s gone, just say the word and I’ll leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” This time, you’re telling the whole truth. “Stay.”
“Tell me what you want.”
Biting back every sarcastic remark that bubble’s in your throat out of defensive instinct, you focus on the gorgeous, mouth watering man in front of you and push your needs to the surface.
“I want your fingers inside me.”
Sylus makes a noise between a groan and a grunt and guides you to lay on the bed. Positioning himself above you, he mouths over your clothed stomach and carefully unzips your dress. Once he’s rid you of all articles of clothing, he takes your left nipple between his teeth, fingers teasingly circling the dampness of your panties while he sucks hard.
“Sylus,” you tense under all the stimulation. “If you don’t hurry the hell up-”
“Relax and let me take care of you,” he releases your tit with a wet ‘pop’ and scoots down on his knees so he can yank your underwear down to your ankles. Lips curling smugly, he swipes a finger between your wet folds. “You’re soaking.”
You glare up at him
“Stop being such an- ah!”
His fingers enter you without warning.
Sylus slides off the bed and kneels on the floor, hooking your knees over his shoulders to prop your hips up. Pleasure builds in your stomach as he swishes his long fingers deep in your pussy, alternating from circular to in and out motions.
“What was that about me being an ah?” his lustful, red eyes glint at you playfully when you look down at him.
“Shut up and keep going.” you barely grit out through your teeth, your head falling back against your pillow when he hooks a finger right into your g-spot. A strangled noise escapes your lips.
“I see.” Sylus hums. Slowing his pace, he drags his tongue along your clit experimentally.
“Shit-” you feel yourself clench and buck up, and Sylus holds you down by your thighs.
“Feel good?” he asks in between sucking on your clit, smoothly adding a third finger inside you.
You can only moan in response.
How is he so good at this?
You’d rather not think about the other women he’s most likely slept with to gain such experience, but your brain takes you there anyway. Even if you’ve had your fair share of hook ups, most of them leading to nothing more than short lived flings, you’re not sure if you want to add Sylus to that category.
Though you’d never admit it out loud, it’d be a waste to be just simple fuck buddies with this magnificent man who can do wonders with his tongue. And fingers.
“Someone’s daydreaming,” Sylus tsks, withdrawing his fingers from you and making you instantly whimper from their absence. “Do I need to remind you of who should have your full attention at this moment?”
Examining his index finger that’s coated in your slickness, he liberally licks along the length of his knuckle to his fingertip.
The sight of him so eagerly lapping at your juices tugs at the very last string of your self restraint until it snaps.
Just as he lowers his head to reposition himself back in between your legs, you unhook your knees from his shoulders to sit up on the bed.
“No. What I need from you is to be inside me. Now.”
Sylus eyes you with the intensity of a starved lion. It’s not until he stands from the floor obediently that you realize how tight his pants are from his straining erection.
“There she is,” he fully unbuttons his dress shirt and tosses it on the floor beside his suit jacket. You’d forgotten how you managed to rid him of it. “My feisty kitten.”
“I’ll show you feisty,” you huff, pointing at his belt. “Take it off. All of it.”
Sylus strips in slow motion, the definition in his toned abs flexing as he rids himself of his belt and unbuttons his pants, sliding them off in one motion. Your mouth waters when his hardened cock springs up from under his underwear.
If you weren’t already so desperate to have him, you’d have taken your time and took all of him in your mouth, sucking him dry. But that can come later. For now, you need him hard and fast.
“Now what, your majesty?” Sylus gives a mock bow, and you wonder how he can still look so proud even as he’s yielding to submission.
“Come up here and fuck me.” you lean back into the bed, purposely spreading your legs.
You’ve run out of patience.
“Condom?” Sylus still has the wits to ask, and for a moment you panic for an answer before remembering your current prescription pills.
“It’s fine. I’m on birth control anyway for my irregular periods. Now come here. Hurry.”
Sensing your urgency and spurred on by the view in front of him, Sylus doesn’t argue and crawls over the bed to position himself back in between your legs, this time with his cock lined up to your entrance.
Anchoring his hands on the bed by your head, he eases in and stretches you out slowly.
The first roll of his hips nearly sends your consciousness to the next astral plane. Its been forever since you’ve taken a guy raw, and coupled with his length, you feel more fulfilled than you ever did with your ex, or the other men you’ve been with.
Lifting your hips up for more contact, you urge Sylus to pick up the pace.
“Someone’s getting greedy.” he grunts, his tone teasing, but the moisture of sweat building on his forehead betrays his usually composed demeanor.
He drops to his elbows to increase his pace just a touch, fluttering open mouth kisses along your collarbone and up to your neck. You struggle to keep your eyes open against the fog of pleasure, your toes curling as Sylus methodically thrusts in and out of you even faster, but not fast enough.
Abandoning your pride, you beg and pant into his ear, cursing when he drives in deeper to the hilt just to pull back halfway and hold you further away from release. Your fingers slide over his broad back and dig into his shoulder blades as a silent plea, but Sylus is determined to take his time.
The minutes stretch into what feels like years before he suddenly stops moving, keeping himself buried inside you as he hooks an arm under your waist and sits you up until you’re straddling his lap.
Cupping your hips, he touches his forehead to yours and traps you under his gaze.
“You want to cum? Let me see it.”
“I- you- what?” the request is so sudden that your coherent thoughts seem to have short circuited.
“Ride me,” Sylus says bluntly, his fingers knotting in your hair as he kisses you gently. ”Use me until you get your fill.”
“But -” heat blooms in your cheeks, and at your rare display of shyness, you feel his cock twitch inside you. “I’ve never actually- you know- how can I?”
While you’ve previously entertained the thought, none of the men you’ve had sex with actually let you be on top. Even when they did suggest it, they’d always finish first or never last long enough to let you cum, leaving you to deal with the empty, aching throb of your pussy. All you’ve ever known was that men were all talk with no game. After some time, you became convinced that riding dick must only be some sort of female fantasy.
But here is Sylus now, suggesting that you put your needs first.
“There’s no time like the present to get some practice in,” he shrugs, leaving back slightly on one hand so he can get a good look at you. Raising a brow, he ceases all movement. “Well? I’m waiting.”
Gulping both out of helplessness and anticipation, you readjust yourself on his cock and place your hands behind you on his knees.
“Fine.”
Mirroring Sylus’ strategy, you start off slow. You let yourself enjoy the miniscule changes on Sylus’ face as you hit a different angle from before. You watch his eyes shift from yours to your chest and waist, his hooded gaze latching on to the sight of you taking in his cock, which is now slick with precum.
Putting more weight on your knees, you sit all the way up until only the tip of his cock is inside of you, pausing for a second before slamming your hips all the way down.
Simultaneously, you both groan.
Sylus takes his free hand to guide your hips, signalling you to repeat the motion, and you finally start a steady, bouncing rhythm. Wet, slapping sounds of skin on skin fills the room, mixing in with your ragged breaths.
When you hit a spot that makes your stomach throb and toes curl, you fall into the hard chest in front of you and begin to grind with a new, unrestrained vigor.
“You’ll be the death of me,” Sylus sits up and cups the back of your neck to kiss you sloppily. When you break apart, a thin string of saliva tethers your harsh breaths together. “You’re beautiful like this.”
Sylus is wrong.
He’ll be the death of you.
The need to be closer, to move faster, to kiss him harder overwhelms your senses, and as if reading your mind, Sylus meets your stuttering hips by thrusting up. Throwing your arms around his neck, you moan, focusing on the building pressure at the pit of your stomach.
“Come on,” Sylus urges you breathlessly. His strong arm wraps around your waist to steady you. “Cum for me.”
Bracing yourself, you slam down on his cock as hard as you can, your bouncing tits grazing his chest, eyes losing focus as you reach your climax. The world around you spins, all rational thoughts leaving your mind as you chase after your release.
Then, just as you think you can no longer stand it, bursts of white sparks streaks across your closed eyelids, your thighs quivering and pussy clenching around Sylus as you cum hard.
Riding out the feeling, you continue to slowly roll your hips until you come to a stop, your inner thighs now soaking wet.
“Holy shit,” you collapse against Sylus, head rolling onto his shoulder. “I’ve never cum like that before in my life.”
You feel the rumble of his chuckle against your cheek.
“I’m convinced your supposed inexperience in riding was a lie after all. You were bouncing and writhing on me like a seasoned horseback rider.”
“Ugh,” you frown, detaching yourself from him. “You’re still as annoying as ever in bed.”
“Oh?” Sylus examines his wet dick, which is still hard and fully erect. “Your sweet pussy was telling me something else.”
You throw the nearest pillow at his face.
He playfully tackles you down into the bed without missing a beat, pinning your wrists with his hands.
“Shall I convince you as we clean up?”
Clearing your throat, you look away.
“Maybe later.”
“Later?”
Nodding downwards, you refer to his hardened dick.
“Still have to finish what we started.”
Sylus looks genuinely confused, and you stare back up at him quizzically.
“You haven’t cum yet, have you?”
“You don’t need a break?”
“Please,” you scoff. You’re slightly offended that he’s taken you for a one round and done type of girl. “I’m a stronger soldier than that.”
Taking advantage of his hesitation, you free your wrists from his loosened grip and pull him down on top of you by his elbows. “Now are you going to cum inside me, or not?”
Sylus visibly guffaws at your words.
How the tables have turned.
Though it doesn’t take much to convince Sylus. In a matter of minutes, he’s driving his hips into yours once again, whispering sinfully sweet words of affirmation into your ear as he brings himself over the edge, taking you to plunge down into the abyss with him over and over again.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
You’re awakened sometime the next morning by the incessant buzzing of your phone.
The first few times, you ignore it, falling in and out of sleep from exhaustion. But the notifications are persistent and they continue on until you’re forced to groggily open your eyes and groan. Groping blindly around for your cellphone, you eventually find it on the floor after leaning over the edge of the bed.
Collapsing back into your pillow, you scroll through several missed calls and a bombardment of text messages:
Simone: Hey, Y/N! I just wanted to apologize for last night. I really had no idea you didn’t know about the Ché family. You and Sylus left in a hurry last night, and we were a bit worried. Is everything ok?
Tara: Giiirlllll!
Tara: Are u up?
Tara: What happened last night? Did u and ur man make up? Update me PRONTO!
Jenna: Hi, Y/N. Tried giving you a call this morning but figured you were still sleeping. I wanted to apologize again for getting all up in your business last night :( I hope I didn’t mess it up for you and Sylus. Anywho, still wanted to thank you as well for attending my wedding! Let me know when you’re free so I can hand you your thank you gift :)
“Shit.”
Tossing your phone aside, you massage your temples as the rush of memories from last night floods your brain. The aching of your muscles, your parched throat, and several love marks covering your breasts serve as physical evidence of what happened.
You’d be lying if you said you had no regrets from rudely abandoning your friends, but then again, you also just experienced the best sex of your life.
You’re not exactly sure where or how to go on from here.
“Don’t tell me you’re filled with regrets now.”
Jolting in surprise, you just now register the warm arm wrapped around you and a pair of garnet red eyes watching from beside you.
“Sylus! What are you-”
“Not even a good morning?” he cuts you off, as if he already knew what you were going to say. What are you still doing here?
A pang of guilt strikes a chord in your chest. Though you hadn’t meant to say it out loud, you always treated your hook ups as one night stands because every man seemed to be afraid of commitment.
“What, trying to get rid of me already?” Sylus props his head up against his palm, resting his arm against your headboard.
Not Sylus, though. You have a feeling that you will deeply regret sending this man home.
Now is not the time to hold back.
“Actually….” you backpedal on your words, surprising Sylus by leaning in and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “I was thinking of breakfast instead.”
To your delight, you catch the tips of his ears slightly reddening when you pull back, his mouth skewed into a silent, surprised ‘o.’ It strikes you as he processes your display of affection that you could get used to waking up to the sight of him unguarded and disheveled in your bed like this.
The prospect of a next time doesn’t seem so far out of reach.
Tightening his arm around your waist, Sylus pulls you closer, offering a handsome smile before kissing your forehead.
“Before that, I need a little appetizer first.”
You don’t fight back and allow him to pull you back under the sheets, giggling and playfully scolding him as he pounces.
After all, if breakfast can wait, so can replying to your curious friends.