cater 2 u | sylus x reader

cater 2 u

It comes through the serene, amber glow of your bedroom. Through the slurry of your thoughts and your restless leg syndrome.

It's a gentle pressure in the form of idle fingers smoothing along the skin of your belly. Meant to soothe, to anchor you down as the maelstrom behind your skull threatens to spill out and sweep you away.

His reminder that he is here and very much real.

"Can't sleep?" he rasps from behind, voice heavy with exhaustion. Sends tingles down your spine, and his breath stirs the hairs at the nape of your neck.

Your stomach pulls, heart sinks. You must've woken him up with your jostling about.

He doesn't sleep well himself. The constant traveling between the N109 Zone and Linkon has its drawbacks. Transitioning from darkness to light so abruptly has surely mucked up his circadian cycle.

Doesn't help that he abhors the sun. On cue, it defiantly creeps through the slit of your curtains, casting both your faces in an amber stripe. He bears it all if only to see you. To feel your pulse beat beneath his lips, to hold you like this.

You stroke his wrist with an apologetic thumb. "No, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

He groans low like distant thunder. Tugs you closer until your ass sits all perfectly in the notch of his pelvis, and his chin finds the pocket of your shoulder. He tangles your legs together, arms possessive around your middle while he caresses your feet with his surprisingly soft ones.

He clings to you like a lifeline. You revel in the notion that you're the only one who gets to see him like this. Stripped down, bare-boned, all lovey-dovey, with cartoonish hearts swirling overhead.

He'd thump you for thinking like that. He hasn't gone soft; he swears it.

"S'alright. Can't expect you to completely change your routine for little old me."

You scoff at that. Study the flutter of the curtains across from your bed as a breeze eases in. You've already changed your lifestyle so much to accommodate him.

"You talk like I wouldn't give you the world."

A chuckle roils in his chest, vibrating your back. Your bed sheets rustle as he shifts to press his lips to your carotid. Mouth lingers there like he intends to soak all the warmth of your body into his. You shiver.

His voice crackles with emotion peeking through the grogginess. Something quiet and raspy, barely audible beneath the hum of the AC. "You are my world. And right now, my world is having trouble sleeping."

Sylus can be the epitome of sweet when he wants to be. Has a hand, hot and coaxing, on your sternum, scorching you from the outside in. His thumb coasts over the grooves of your ribcage, and he roots his nose behind your ear, inhaling deep.

"So, what can I do to help?"

The pressure in the room shifts. Heavy, buzzing like white noise in your ears. When you swallow thick, your throat clicks, and you feel his lips curve upwards against your skin.

His tone is deceptively innocent. Had he been anyone else but Sylus, you would deem his intentions pure. However, the coarse pads of his fingers outlining the underside of your breast warn you against it. You inwardly snort at his cheekiness. So much for being 'sweet.'

You go for coy. Make yourself cozier halfway on your back, a smile rounding your lips. You reach back to curl your hand around his nape. Thread fingers in a thatch of messy white, and he groans something bitten-off at the attention. You quietly grant him more access to your body, knowing the path he intends to err down.