POV: Astraea
Location: Ren's House – Late Night
The house was quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that brings peace—but the kind that hums. That lingers. That whispers truths you're too afraid to say aloud.
I lay on the futon in the guest room—the one I'd made my own. The ceiling above me held nothing. The silence around me held too much.
And I knew where he was.
With her.
Again.
I turned on my side, wrapping my arms around my knees.
I told myself I could endure it. That I'd already endured worse.
But the ache didn't listen.
The door clicked softly open.
I didn't look up right away. I didn't need to.
The sound of his steps. The weight of his presence. The way even the air changed around him—it was unmistakable.
He didn't say anything.
He never did.
But when I turned, his eyes found mine in the dark.
He closed the door behind him.
He came to me.
Wordless. Shadow-wrapped. Distant.
But here.
That was always enough to unravel me.
I sat up, breath caught somewhere between anger and need. "She's asleep, isn't she?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
He knelt in front of me. His hand reached out, brushed my cheek with fingers that knew how to destroy gods—but touched me like I was made of ash.
"You always come after," I whispered. "Never before. Never first."
Still nothing.
Just silence.
I hated that it hurt. I hated that I wanted him anyway.
But I reached for him.
I pulled him into my bed, into the quiet, into the warmth neither of us had words for.
His hands on my waist. My legs around his hips. My body aching where my heart dared not speak.
I held him like he was mine.
And he gave me his body like it belonged to no one.
"You won't say you love me," I murmured against his neck. "You won't even say my name tonight."
He moved inside me slowly, deeply.
Still silent.
Still steady.
"Say something," I breathed. "Even if it's a lie."
He kissed my shoulder. His lips were soft. Careful.
But they said nothing.
I tilted my head back, trying not to cry.
"You don't even know what this does to me, do you?" I whispered. "The way you stay quiet while I give you everything."
Still nothing.
Just the rhythm. The heat. The way his hands gripped my waist like I was something he didn't deserve but still needed to hold.
He pushed me gently onto my back, his body covering mine. His hands roamed over my skin, tracing patterns that sent shivers down my spine. He leaned down, his tongue circling my nipples, teasing them to hard peaks. I moaned softly, my fingers digging into his back, urging him on. He moved lower, his tongue tracing a path down my stomach, my hips, until he reached the apex of my thighs. He parted my folds with his fingers, his tongue finding my clit. He licked and sucked, his fingers sliding inside me, feeling me tighten around him. The room filled with the soft, wet sounds of our bodies pressing together, the slicking noises of my arousal growing louder with each passing moment.
He moved back up my body, his cock hard and ready. He slid into me slowly, inch by inch, filling me completely. The slicking sounds of our joining filled the room, a primal rhythm that matched the beating of our hearts. He started to move, slow and deep, each thrust drawing a moan from my lips. He reached between us, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. I could feel my orgasm building, my body tensing, and then I cried out, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over me. He didn't stop, his hips moving in a steady rhythm, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing through the room. I could feel him swelling inside me, his body tensing, and then he came with a groan, his body shuddering as he filled me, the slicking sounds of our release mixing with our ragged breaths.
But he wasn't done. He flipped me over, so I was on my hands and knees. He entered me from behind, his hands gripping my hips, his thrusts deep and powerful. The room filled with the sound of our bodies slapping together, the slicking noises of our arousal coating our thighs. He reached around, his fingers finding my clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. I cried out, my body convulsing as another orgasm ripped through me. He came soon after, his body shuddering as he filled me again, the slicking sounds of our release mixing with our ragged breaths.
He pulled out of me, his cock still hard. I could feel his cum dripping from my pussy, coating my thighs. He moved up my body, straddling my chest. I knew what he wanted, my hands reaching for him, guiding him to my mouth. He slid into me, feeling the wet heat of my tongue, the suction of my lips. I took him deep, my head bobbing, my hands gripping his hips. I could feel him swelling, his body tensing, and then he came with a groan, his body shuddering as he filled my mouth. I swallowed, my tongue licking him clean, my eyes never leaving his.
He collapsed beside me, his body spent, his heart pounding. I curled into him, my head on his chest, my fingers tracing idle circles against his skin. The room was filled with the scent of our lovemaking, the sound of our ragged breaths, the slicking sounds of our bodies cooling.
"Please..." I whispered, voice cracking. "Please... just pretend you feel it too."
He pressed his forehead to mine.
Still not a word.
But he didn't leave.
He stayed.
Again.
And again.
And again.
By the time dawn bled through the curtains, I was curled against him—tired, sore, and aching in places no touch could reach.
He lay beside me, eyes half-lidded, still breathing quietly.
And though he hadn't said a single word all night, I knew he'd heard everything.
"I know what this is to you," I whispered into the silence. "Just presence. Just skin. Just warmth in the shape of love."
I brushed my fingers down his chest.
"But even if it's just a mask… it's the only one you wear near me."
And that, somehow, made it the most real thing I'd ever known.