Sylus monologue ~
Who would have thought I'd be here? Standing in the middle of a color festival, my clothes ruined, my hands dusted in green and pink, laughter rings in my ears like something foreign and wild. I've walked through rooms filled with silence and made choices that forced men into obedience, a life bent and mended with rules and cautious edge, but here...This wild feeling, this rush, feels like a part I ned to relive.
This rush in my chest is new. Uncontrolled. Alive. The air smells like color and fresh paint and something warm I can't name. Every sound feels louder, brighter. I watch her laugh, unguarded, chasing joy without looking back, and it hits me how far this is from my usual world.
And yet, I don't want to leave it.
I've always lived in precision. In restraint. In shadows where nothing surprises you anymore. But she does. Constantly. She pulls me into moments I never planned for, moments I didn't know I was missing.
This feeling, this lightness, is dangerous. Not because it weakens me, but because it makes me want to protect it. To keep it safe from the parts of me that know too much.
I shouldn't belong here. But watching her shine under falling colors and hearing her laugh as if it's effortless, I realize something quietly unsettling.
I don't just want her in my world. I want to stand in hers.
One second, she's there, the next she's on her toes, giving me a quick, teasing peck on the lips.
Cherry. Sweet and sharp. A fleeting taste that hits me hard in the chest. She pulls back slightly, her breath hitching as if she knows what she's started. Her cheeks glow under smudged color, lashes fluttering like she's testing something risky. That contrast, innocence mixed with boldness, nearly shatters, dark waves framing sinful lips that seem made to be ruined.
"Caught you"
Christ. That teasing grin of hers that essence rose and vanilla perfume blends with warm musk, wrapping around me in a haze thick enough to dull the crowd, the noise, the world.
All I see is her in the soft, beautiful golden hue of the fairy lights twinkling above us, her skin glowing, her feet trying to settle back to ground, daring me to respond.
A peck like that? Wrong man.
"You're teasing something you don't want unleashed," I murmur, my voice low and rough. I lift her chin so she can't look away. The tension snaps tight between us, electric. Every shove from the crowd pushes her closer, her pulse racing beneath my fingers.
"Keep looking at me like that," I warn softly, dangerously, "and I'll make you forget where we are."
Before she could respond. My arm wraps around her waist, firm and instinctive, pulling her in as if letting her go was never an option. My other hand rises to her nape, fingers spreading, slipping slowly into those soft curls of hers, guiding us halfway toward each other. She gasps softly, surprised, her lips parting without thought.
I surge forward and claim her mouth ravenous through those parted lips, serving a perfect opening, decisive, devouring that sweet cherry gloss, smearing, stealing the gasp she didn't mean to give. Color bursts around us, smudged and forgotten, the world reduced to heat and breath and the way she melts into me like she's been waiting for this.
Her hands clutch at me, nails grazing my skin, and something wild tightens in my chest. ''Sylus-" Her gasped voice mixed with a soft moan as she tried to speak, but the way she said my name.
Fuck.
Her scent washes over me, warm and dizzying, mixed with the clean hint of lavender from her soft curls. It clouds my head, making everything else fade until there's nothing but her warmth and how perfectly she fits against me like she was always meant to be here.
She was mine. Only and only Mine
I kiss her with the certainty that no one else will ever undo her like this.
Never satisfy her like this. Like Me.
I vow that no other man will ever learn how she reacts, how she moans, how she gasps, and taste. Even if any guy would dare to. I swear that fucker will be eight feet under the ground, and I will be the one doing that.
I don't want anyone else to learn this taste.
I don't want anyone close enough to make her breathe like that.
No one else ever will.
I kiss her like this, no other bastard will ever quench this thirst; she's branded mine. "fuck, you taste like sin," I growled against her lips mid-plunder, tongues warring slick and fierce, her moans vibrating through me like thunder.
My kiss grows rougher, my obsession pushing against my restraint. She's mine, entirely, irrevocably, and the thought of anyone else daring to touch her stirs something vicious inside me. I'd stop it before it ever started. No hesitation. No mercy.
Her knees buckle, eyes hazed and glazed as she settles back to her feet, breathless, pressing her palms against my chest as she gasps for air. I can feel what I've done to her. And I loved every second of it. Her skin was feverish, those hooded eyes staring into me, flushed cheeks smeared with smudge lip gloss, and nape with flushed red tone, her hands curled up in my clothes as if she would melt away if she let her grip go. Like I'm the only thing keeping her up.
Slowly. Deliberately, my hands slipped up, tracing patterns on her back carresing the paint smear that was adding a colourful touch to her plain hoodie. A victorious smirk spread across my face as I leaned in, my voice low and dark, meant only for her.
"Caught you, little rabbit," I murmur. "You don't get to run after doing that."
I place a brief kiss on her cheek. Then another. Unhurried. Claiming.
Her gaze meets mine. hooded, dazed, breathtakingly beautiful in my arms, still trying to catch her breath, a soft gulp went down her throat, her body slight in a state of overwhelming sensation hitting every one of her body cells parted lips just enough for air—lips slightly swollen, eyes hazy like adorn with amber, breath uneven and I feel it settle deep in my bones cause I know, without a doubt—
I'm the reason she looks like this. And I could never let her forget it.
Her soft moan still lingering in my ears, her feverish skin underneath mine, how well she molded against me as if she was the missing fit I never knew I would be on my knees for
"Do that again… and I won't stop."
Because I know now without doubt, without mercy—
I would burn everything down for her.
And I wouldn't regret a single flame.
Her breath calmed as she hurriedly tore away the redness glazing her kissable cheeks, as she tried to fix her smudged lip gloss. "We should get going," she says, her voice a bit fast. "It's pretty late."
She turns and walks away. I watch her for a moment before a soft chuckle escapes my lips as I follow behind her. She walked quickly, as if distance could protect her.
But the truth was that nothing could save her from me.
She walked towards the car, practically dashing towards it from a far distace she looked adorable running like that, as if she was a little cat. As she tries to open the door, I finally close the distance.
She tries again, harder. "Why the fuck isn't it opening?"
That's when I step up behind her. I get close enough that she can sense me without seeing me. "Why the rush?" My voice is low and calm, leaning in near her ear. Her back against my chest, she stiffens. I feel her muscles tense.
"I—" she starts, then stops. I reach past her, moving slowly, trapping her between my body and the car. My arm brushes her side as I press the button. The lock clicks open, sharp in the stillness.
I pull the door open for her. She turns, chin raised, eyes challenging. "I could have taken care of it myself."
I meet her gaze, steady and unflinching. "I know you can," I say easily. Then I leaned in just enough that my nose was touching hers, those stolen breath grazign eachothers lips.
"But I'll do it anyway."
Her breath hitches. "Because now," I continue, my voice low and sure, I pulled away slightly, touching her hair curls that were framing her face, "this woman is mine."
Not loud. Not angry. Just a statement of fact. "And what's mine," I add, holding her gaze as the night hums around us, "I take care of. Okay?"
For a moment, she just looks at me, caught between arguing and something far more risky. As I step back, one hand still on the door, giving her space that doesn't feel like freedom at all. "Get in," I say softly.
We settle into the car, the door clicking shut with a finality that still hums under my skin. As I adjust the rearview mirror, I catch sight of myself—and pause.
Her gloss was smudged on my lips. I press them together slowly, feeling it there, seeing the faint shine catch the dash light. Pride settles in my chest, heavier than anything I've worn before. I don't wipe it away.
I drove as the city slid past in a muted blur, streetlights oozing a white hue. The ride was silent. Somewhere between turns, she drifts off—head tipping gently against the glass, lashes resting on flushed cheeks, exhaustion finally claiming her lips, slightly parted curls that were framing her face falling on her face.
When the car comes to a stop, I don't move right away. I turn toward her, resting my head back, my gaze fixed only on her face. The soft rise and fall of her breath. The way peace settles on her features when she sleeps.
How does someone look this breathtaking and still be so gentle? So light?
It feels like half an hour passes, soft music still playing low, before I finally open my door. I circle to the other side of the car, open the passenger side carefully, and lift her into my arms with ease, instinctively, reverently. She stirs slightly, murmuring something I can't quite catch.
"Ella," I whisper, close now. "We're home."
She relaxes against me, trusting without thought that feeling brought me peace more than I ever had, the quiet weight of her, the stillness, the certainty—settles deep in the heart that feeling of being finally complete.
This peace. This is what I crave every day.
She stirs when I move, her lashes fluttering as she begins to wake and realize where she is. I softly call her name again, "Ella, can you open the door?" reassuring her, and she nods sleepily. She keys open the door and pushes it open herself before the drowsiness pulls at her once more.
Inside, her one-bedroom apartment was quiet and warm. Soft light spills across familiar walls. It's the kind of quiet, soft, familiar scent. She kicks one of her shoes off halfway down the hall, managing only a few steps before leaning into me again, trusting without hesitation.
I lead her to the bedroom and gently lower her onto the bed, slow and careful, as if any sudden movement could disturb something delicate. She instinctively curls toward the pillow, sinking in the bed deeply asleep, her breathing evening out, always a heavy sleeper the slight made me chuckle slightly.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take my time. I remove the remaining one sneaker at a time, setting them neatly aside. My hands linger on her delicate feet, steady and careful. She hums softly in her sleep, "Are her feet sore?" I delicately started to massage her feet as her body started to relax more. "Mh", a soft hum left her lips that made me want to treat her with more care than ever.
I look at her like this, unguarded and peaceful and trusting me so much.. No noise. No chaos. Just her, safe in my space. I brush a stray lock from her face, careful not to wake her, and adjust the blanket over her legs. For a moment, I just sit there, watching her breathe and memorizing this calm.
"Working so hard all day, of course, she must be tired.." As I slowly massaged her palm, which was so delicate and soft, frail, thin wrist, long fingers felt like a feather against my rough hands, the hands that were holding her told another bloody story, a world she can't live in...
My voice was low, full of uncertainty and hope that felt worthless to even ask for
"Will you still think of me as human when you get to know who I am?"
"Would you still be my sanctuary?"