WARNING: Skip this chapter if you don't want to read any smut.

THE PAST

SEBASTIAN POV

This winter, the rain seems to be an ongoing presence, a constant relaxing soothing noise filling his apartment. A few days have passed since Isabel's mother's funeral. He has been too afraid to send a message, trying not to excessively bother her and give her the space she might need. Nonetheless, he left her a message with his address in case she ever needed to find him.

The working week as usual has been filled with stress and short deadlines. They have introduced individual rooms for the employees to sleep in the office if they wish to, or if the company is in dire need of working - which might escalate soon enough with the ongoing ramp down on every company. He knows there is an economic crash about to burst.

Though he may be one of the fortunate few to keep his job, he knows that the constant panic of being next in line to lose it will take its toll. He hates how his life has become consumed by work, destroying his will to live.

As he lies on his sofa, his mind drifts to other thoughts. There's a new volume of his favourite science fiction book that he's been eager to read, but it's still in the box from his online order. He feels exhausted and scattered, with barely enough energy to do the things he used to enjoy when he lived in Pelican Town.

Part of him thinks about going back, but the thought of living in his mother's basement sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine. He doesn't want to live there with Demetrius or Maru, not that he doesn't like his sister, but he would prefer her company outside of their toxic family dynamic.

That would be worse than this, he thinks.

Suddenly, there's a fast-paced knocking on his door. He has no idea who it could be, but he hopes it isn't his hallucinating neighbour trying to gossip about the whole neighbourhood while he relentlessly tries to get rid of him. He rises from the sofa, moving slowly and trying to compose himself from the tiredness he feels after a full day of work. As he reaches for the doorknob, he opens it to the sweet, floral scent of sunflowers filling his nostrils, with a slight hint of lemon.

She looks dishevelled, her hair hardly composed, and her cheeks red as if she's been running for miles. Despite her dishevelled appearance, she looks lovely as always, with her dark, large eyes glinting in the dim light of the corridor. She's panting and breathing heavily as if she's used up all the air available.

"I...Can I come inside?" she manages to say between breaths.

"Sure," he agrees, gesturing for her to enter his apartment, and she obliges. Her sudden appearance brings a refreshing change to his tiresome day, and he can't help but grin at her. She walks towards his sofa and inquires if they can sit there, to which he nods in agreement. Isabel seems nervous, twirling her fingers in the fabric of her dress. But he can't quite grasp what's bothering her.

"Do you want to like… watch a movie?" she asks, sounding a little anxious.

He's taken aback by the innocent request, wondering why she's in such a hurry to simply watch a movie. Nevertheless, he agrees, "Yeah, sure. What do you want to watch?"

Isabel shrugs noncommittally, "Anything would be fine," she answers, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He considers his options and decides on a classic movie that he finds absurd but irresistible. It is so over the top that he can't help but laugh as the memories of it flood his mind. "I have just the thing in mind," he says, amused.

"What's so funny?" she interrupts his thoughts with a curious expression on her face.

"Nothing," he replies with a smile, "just the perfect movie for us to watch."

Without wasting time, he selects the movie from his extensive collection and sets up the TV. He eases himself onto the couch, settling into the cushions while the opening credits roll. The familiar sounds of the movie fill the room.

"In the first years of the 21st century. A third world war broke out. Those of us who survived knew mankind could never survive a fourth. That our volatile natures could simply no longer be risked"

"So we have created a new arm of the law: The Grammaton Cleric, whose sole task it is to seek out and eradicate the true source of man's inhumanity to man - his ability to feel ."

She chuckles softly, "Oh no, it is one of those guilty pleasures of yours," her eyes glinting with amusement despite her words.

He grins, "Yes! Yes! It is. And you're in for a treat."

As the movie unfolds before them, they occasionally burst into laughter, creating a lighthearted mood that he relishes.

He notices her gaze lingering on him for more than one occasions, making him wonder what could be the cause of it. He subtly scans the room, and his eyes fall upon her lips slightly parting, struggling to release an unspoken thought.

Turning to face her, he catches her pretending to be absorbed in the film playing before her, her eyes fixed upon the screen but her mind elsewhere. The flickering images illuminate her face and cast shadows in the hollows of her cheeks and under her eyes. As he watches her, he notices her eyes shaking anxiously, moving up and down at an uncomfortable pace. A sense of concern prickles within him, and he finds himself finally asking, "Something wrong?", the tense silence breaking.

She immediately turns her head, locking her eyes on his, and as if caught off guard she starts, "Not exactly," but hesitates to continue her thoughts. Her voice is soft yet unsteady.

As he waits for her to gather the courage, he notices her fidgeting with the hem of her dress and her eyes darting between his face and the floor repeatedly. He gently urges her, "Please, do tell."

She looks uncertain as she speaks in a low voice, "You're going to say that it's not appropriate, that I should be grieving or talking about my feelings." He raises an eyebrow, surprised but also slightly hurt, "Holy shit. You make me sound like a fun guy. Am I that paternalistic?" Still, he can't help but laugh.

She quickly backtracks, fluttering her hands in front of her as if trying to erase her words from the air. "You would be completely right. But honestly, I can't stop thinking about…"

He waits patiently, giving her the space she needs to speak her mind. She takes a deep breath, her gaze averted as if struggling to find the words to express herself. And then, they spill out in a rush. "I...I've been thinking about touching you," she whispers, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Surprised, his heart skips a beat and he feels his pulse racing in his ears as he meets her gaze for a brief moment. He expected something more serious. A small, almost involuntary gasp escapes his lips as he struggles to articulate his thoughts. "Oh," he breathes, his heart beating so hard he fears it might leap out of his chest. "Likewise."

Her nervousness is betrayed by the tone of her voice and the slight tremble in her hand.

"You know... Parts of that night where I had the blackout have reached my mind. I remember you kissing me here," she moves her hand to touch the corner of her lips, "but never quite on my lips."

As he watches her hand move, his lips twitch slightly as he remembers the night she's referring to. "What else do you remember?" he inquires as she leans her head ever so slightly in his direction.

"I remember you saying you would bite me if I begged you to," her eyes are deep and alluring, with pupils barely discernible amidst the inky blackness of the iris; he can easily get lost in those dark orbs. They seems to be the reason behind him barely noticing himself moving towards her, shortening further the space between them.

She moves closer and breathes warmly on his skin. Her hand reaches up, tracing the contours of his jawline with delicate fingertips before moving to the nape of his neck, where her fingers weave through the silky strands of his jet-black hair.

He can feel the tension in her body rise as he places a firm hand on her waist, pulling her closer; her lips only a whisper away. As her fingers continue to work their magic, he lets out a deep, contented sigh.

With an urgent movement, he reaches out for her face and guides her head to the perfect angle; his thumb brushing the skin behind her ears. In turn, she offers no resistance.

He feels her sweet breath on his lips as he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of hers, deliberately. She sighs softly, closing her eyes and leaning into him.

At last, she whispers, "Can you kiss me already?" the words echoes in his mind, urging him to take the final step. With a gentle glide, he parts her lips, coaxing her to open up. She responds eagerly, inviting him further.

Moistening his lips, he finally kisses her. As their lips touch, she presses herself against him and his mind goes blank, a soft, ecstatic noise filling his brain. A warm sensation spreads through him, from his lips to his fingertips, to his very core.

Her lips are soft and pliant, responding to his every movement with a gentle eagerness. He kisses her like he's afraid she might disappear, his hunger for her growing at an alarming rate.

As her fingers continue to thread through his hair, a soft hum escapes her lips as she pulls him closer, deepening the kiss, encouraging him to take more. Sebastian willingly obliges, adding more pressure as he lets his tongue explore the depths of her mouth. A small yet deep groan escapes her throat. The taste of her, the warmth, all of it is overwhelming and intoxicating.

They part only to grasp for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he notices the heaviness of his breath. With a raspy voice, he whispers, "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

A subtle smirk plays in the corner of her mouth as she replies, "I might have an idea," her eyes briefly flickering down to his lips before returning to his gaze. "We were this close to kissing before I disappeared," she adds, holding up her fingers almost touching, illustrating her words.

"Where did you want to touch me?" he asks under his still heavy breathing, as he simultaneously tries to master his lust as much as possible. He does not want to sound too desperate or a filthy animal not in control of his sexual desires at the first opportunity.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she says, "Oh," as if she had forgotten how it all started. "Would you let me touch you anywhere I please?"

"What do you think?" he replies as a tingling sensation comes to sit on the pit of his stomach, it still surprises him how nervous she could make him feel. With other women, he had always been the dominant one, in full control of his desires. But with her, he felt powerless, as if he were at the mercy of her every whim.

Slowly, her hand moves across the smooth fabric of his sofa, fingers tentatively approaching his black jeans. Watching intently, he observes as she reaches him. Her fingers graze the rough surface of his denim trousers, and his body tense with anticipation.

Delicately, she traces the contours of his leg, slowly moving dangerously closer to the area of his arousal. Shivers course through his body as she applies a sudden pressure, testing the limits of his self-control, but never quite reaching a certain area.

As her fingers trail along his thigh, he feels goosebumps rippling across his skin. He can't help but inhale sharply, his body already visibly responding to her touch aiding his embarrassment.

His breath quickens as her fingers neared his growing erection, teasingly moving around its edges, drawing out the anticipation until he is nearly mad with desire. He wonders if she is deliberately trying to make him suffer. When at last her hand makes contact with his hardened shaft, he can not contain the soft gasp that escapes his lips. She immediately flashes a smile at his reaction.

She shifts into a different position, kneeling between his open legs with a wicked glint in her eye. He watches as she leans in, her gaze locking onto his, and that's when he feels he is on a verge of combustion.

With trembling hands he reaches out, cupping her chin and lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. "You don't have to do this," he whispers, his voice filled with concern.

The corners of her mouth turn up into a devious smile, and she gazes at him with a teasing twinkle in her eyes. Her gaze is so penetrating that it threatens to engulf him. "I know," she purrs, her hand still teasingly stroking him above the fabric. "But I want to see you helpless with pleasure. And don't you dare look away, I want you to see everything I'm going to do to you."

At that moment he decides that she can do what pleases her with his body and mind. He relinquishes any lingering reservations and surrenders to her entirely.

Her delicate fingers move with purpose, taking hold of his belt and steadily unbuckling it. As she deftly unzips his black jeans, the soft rattle of metal on metal fills the air, drawing his attention to her every movement.

Once the zip is fully down, his erection springs forth, free from the confines of the fabric that had been holding it back. Her gaze lingers upon his shaft seemingly pleased by the sight of it, but before he could wonder about her thoughts, she says "Oh, you're quite blessed, aren't you? And you don't even have a full erection," her voice betrayed a hint of wonderment.

As she looks up at him, he finds himself transfixed. The heat from their intense eye contact makes him squirm, a mix of self-assuredness and nervousness bubbling inside. "Well, let's just say I haven't had any complaints," he manages to reply, a smirk forming on the corner of his lips.

As her hands slide from his waist to his backside, she boldly grazes his glutes with her fingers and gives him a firm squeeze, eliciting a sharp intake of breath that betrays his surprise. With a gentle push, his jeans start to yield to the pressure of her hands, gradually exposing the skin on his legs. He willingly assists her, tilting his hips to give her the perfect angle to continue undressing him.

He's left with only his hoodie and underwear covering him, but she won't allow that for long. With a confident tilt of her chin, she demands with a self-assurance that threatens to send him over the edge, "Take off your shirt. I want to see that beautiful bare body of yours."

He complies, eager to please her. With a quick, but not particularly graceful, movement, he slides off his hoodie and shirt. The sudden exposure of his bare chest seems to fuel her desire even more, and she hungrily lingers her gaze over his body.

"Like the view?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly. As if under a spell, she slowly moves her hand to reach the hair covering his chest, her fingers spreading wide to cover as much skin as possible with her touch.

She trails her fingers down his torso, seemingly relishing the sensation of his muscles tensing under her touch. "You have no idea," she whispers, her voice barely above a murmur. With a coy smile, she leans in closer, locking eyes with him. "But I'm about to show you."

He can't tear his gaze away from her as she traces the line of hair down his chest, her touch lingering tantalisingly on his core muscle. The fire within him burns hotter with each passing moment, a heat that spreads through his veins and tenses his muscles.

She reaches the waistband of his underwear, teasingly moving her finger just slightly underneath. And then, she dares to venture a bit further, her slender fingers tentatively exploring his intimate area as she brushes his crotch hair, causing him a tingling sensation.

His breathing becomes heavier as she slides his boxers down his legs, leaving him completely naked before her. He cannot help but notice the contrast between their states - him naked and powerless, she fully clothed and in control - and yet, there's something about it that excites him.

He tries to catch his breath as he speaks, "I was supposed to be the one making you never forget our little sexual encounter."

But she just grins at him, her eyes gleaming with a tease. "Oh, don't worry," she says, her voice low and sultry. "You'll have your chance."

As her hands caress his toned, hairy legs, every line and contour of his skin is explored with an almost religious reverence. She tilts her head, moving closer to his tumescent member along with her hands, which are tracing every curve and crevice with a delicate touch that ignites his whole being.

"Are you sure about-"

"Sebastian," she interjects sharply, her voice resolute and unwavering. "I crave nothing more than to mouth-fuck your beautiful cock. And if you continue to ask if I'm sure about this, I'm going to make you pay the price for your doubts."

He feels the thrill of anticipation surging through him as he hears those words. "Oh, but that's an incentive to-" he begins, only to be silenced by the sudden pressure of her hand as it squeezes his bollocks, making his whole body tense. It's both arousing and frightening, enough to make his breath catch in his throat and make him utter a soft "Fuck, that's hot" under his laboured breathing.

Her dark, all-encompassing eyes lock onto his, he feels powerless under her touch, and at the moment nothing but an instrument of hers, as she bestows upon him the ecstasy that he so desperately craves. The playful smirk on her lips only adds to his arousal as she applies more pressure, sending a sudden electric jolt running through his entire body and his eyes flutter closed.

"I want you to keep looking at me while I fuck you," she says squeezing him a little more, making him lose what little control he still had. He whines as his hand reaches the fabric of his couch to clench it in an attempt to keep himself slightly grounded.

He can only bring himself to nod, the anticipation is almost killing him. Still, he obliges, keeping his eyes transfixed on her every move.

As she leans forward, her hair cascades over her shoulders, tickling his thighs, adding another layer of sensory stimulation to his already overloaded system. Swiftly, she pulls her hair back into a ponytail, exposing as much skin of her face as possible.

He watches in a trance as her tongue flicks out to moisten her lips before she plants a soft kiss on the tip of his member, causing him to gasp in astonishment. Gradually, she takes his glans into her warm, wet mouth, eliciting a soft moan from his lips as she teasingly circles her tongue around it, causing it to become even more prominent with every dainty motion.

Calmly, she opens her eyelids, revealing her hungry gaze that locks onto his own. She wants him to witness her looking directly at him as she fills her mouth with his engorged cock. The sight of it is one of the most erotic and arousing images he has ever seen, and she appears strikingly beautiful as she takes him deeper. His muscles tighten and coil as he touches the back of her throat, the sensation almost unbearable.

With nimble movements, her moistened mouth rises and falls in steady rhythms, her lips pressing and sucking in all the right places. One of her hands assists the motion of her mouth, which sends him spiralling towards the edge of control, while the other continues to apply pressure to his testicles. He can't help but arch his back as she expertly works him, intensifying the pressure and pace.

The warmth of her mouth engulfs him perfectly, and his fingers instinctively entwine in her hair as she continues to pleasure him as no one has ever done before. She knows precisely where to touch to send waves of pleasure rippling through his muscles.

As her mouth continues to work its magic, her teeth graze his cock enticingly and tantalisingly on more than one occasion, causing him to lean towards her forehead, curved to shorten the distance between their faces as their gazes remain locked. He mutters, under his breath, "I'm going to come," his voice sounds almost desperate.

With one hand gripping the edges of the sofa, he attempts to hold on, to prolong the moment, but to no avail. The pleasure is too intense, too overpowering, and he feels himself teetering on the brink of release.

He whispers her name, his voice is barely audible, as he surrenders to the pleasure she's given him. His body contracts, and contrary to her instructions, he can't help but close his eyes as his breathing becomes deep and laboured. There's no chance he can delay the inevitable orgasm that's about to erupt from him any longer. He holds her hair tightly as she quickens her movements.

She willingly savours his sperm as he ejaculates unintentionally inside her mouth. With a swift movement, she licks her lips, cleaning the dripping fluid that runs down her chin and onto his wooden floor.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he pants, trying to regain his composure as a twinge of guilt settles in his chest.

"About what?" she challenges, a wicked smirk forming on her beautifully swollen lips. "You taste wonderful."

Without much hesitation, he reaches for her lips still covered in his semen and kisses her.