Tasty Tyler

The door clicked shut behind you as you stepped into the dorm, kicking off your shoes with a tired sigh. The warm familiarity of the small space wrapped around you like a blanket—your shared home with Liam, cluttered with textbooks, half-folded laundry, and remnants of takeout containers that should have been thrown away days ago. The soft hum of the mini-fridge was the only sound as you shrugged off your coat and let your body sink onto the couch, already thinking about curling up under a blanket and doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the night.

Liam flopped down next to you, stretching his arms over the back of the couch, legs sprawled as he rested his head against the cushions. “God, that was so much food.”

“You ordered too much food,” you pointed out.

“No such thing.” He exhaled, eyes closing. “We survived class, we ate like royalty… I’d say today was a success.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching for your phone to scroll mindlessly. Your body was still settling into the comfort of being home when your screen lit up with a new notification.

Tyler: Hey gorgeous, what are you up to?

You blinked at the message, staring at it for a second before another one popped up.

Tyler: Wanna come out tonight?

You groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Liam cracked an eye open. “What?”

You held up your phone. “Tyler just texted me, asking if I wanna go out tonight.”

Liam gave a slow, knowing smirk. “Tyler as in wedding guy Tyler?”

“Yes.”

“The one who’s been flirting with you for days?”

“Yes.”

“The one you keep texting with a very suspicious amount of winky faces?”

You sighed. “Yes.”

Liam sat up, draping an arm over the couch, eyes glinting with interest. “And you don’t wanna go?”

“We just got home.” You gestured vaguely around the dorm like that was explanation enough. “I’m tired.”

Liam made a face. “Okay, but do you like him?”

You hesitated. “I mean… yeah.”

His smirk grew. “Do you think he’s hot?”

“…Yeah.”

Liam’s brows lifted slightly at the way your voice softened at the admission. “Okay, then.” He tilted his head. “Do you think he’s hot like that?”

Your cheeks burned as you immediately avoided eye contact. “Ughhhh.”

“That’s a yes.”

“I hate talking about boys like this,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It’s so weird! We used to talk about girls like this!”

Liam snickered. “Yeah, well, times have changed, princess.”

You peeked at him between your fingers. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said smugly. Then, nudging your leg with his knee, he added, “Look, if you think he’s hot and you wanna have a good time, then go. Have a one-night thing. Or a multiple-night thing. Who knows?”

You gave him a look. “You trying to live vicariously through me?”

Liam just shrugged. “I’m just saying—not all guys are gonna make you feel like shit the way Damian did.”

Your lips pressed together. The reminder of Damian was an unwelcome one, but… Liam wasn’t wrong. Damian was fun, pleasurable, but the emotional aspect wasn't pleasant. That experience had left you with a bitter taste, a wound that hadn’t quite healed—but that didn’t mean every guy was going to be like him. You wanted to believe that.

You exhaled, staring at the message on your phone. “Yeah, you have a point.”

Liam grinned. “I usually do.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you.

There was a beat of comfortable silence before Liam leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So… what’s the game plan?”

You frowned. “For what?”

He gestured vaguely at you. “The final trial.”

Your stomach twisted slightly. Right. That.

You exhaled through your nose, sinking deeper into the couch. “Well… Tyler would be the third.”

“And then?”

You groaned. “And then I probably have to contact Richard and Vincent.”

Liam let out a low whistle. “You sound thrilled.”

“Oh, ecstatic,” you deadpanned.

Liam chuckled. “And after them?”

You stared at your phone, the weight of the upcoming months pressing against your chest. “…No idea.”

Liam nodded, as if that was expected. “Well, that’s a problem for future you.”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

He clapped his hands together. “For now, you’ve got a hot guy waiting for you at a bar. What’s the move?”

You pushed yourself up with a groan. “Apparently, the move is me going to fix my lipstick.”

Liam smirked as you disappeared into the bathroom.

The bathroom light was bright as you leaned in, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your lipstick had faded slightly, so you reapplied it—careful, precise, a deep shade that suited the night ahead.

You smoothed a hand over your hair, exhaling as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

It was still surreal sometimes. The face looking back at you—the softness, the curves, the undeniable femininity that had taken hold over these past five months.

There was no trace of the boy you had once been.

Just you.

And tonight, you were going to go meet a very attractive man at a bar downtown. You grabbed your phone and typed a quick response.

You: Where are you headed?

Tyler responded almost instantly.

Tyler: Drake One Fifty. Come find me.

You bit your lip, feeling the first flicker of excitement rush through you. You could do this. With one last look in the mirror, you turned off the light and headed out the door.

Liam was still on the couch, legs stretched out, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up as you grabbed your coat.

“Looking good,” he remarked.

You smirked. “I always look good.”

He huffed a laugh. “Go have fun.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “See you later.”

And with that, you stepped out into the night, heart racing just a little faster than before.

---

The night had started with drinks, teasing banter, and the slow, deliberate push-and-pull of two people circling something inevitable.

Drake One Fifty had been dimly lit, the air thick with music and the scent of expensive cocktails, and Tyler had looked unfairly good—black button-up undone just enough to show a hint of his chest, sleeves rolled up, dark jeans sitting low on his hips. His presence was intoxicating, his touch light but purposeful—a guiding hand on your lower back, fingers brushing against your wrist, his voice a low murmur in your ear over the music.

“You know,” he had mused, lips close to your skin, “I work just a few blocks from here.”

You had turned to him, eyebrow arched. “And?”

“And,” he had continued, swirling his whiskey, “I happen to have access to my firm’s executive office space.” He smirked. “Totally empty at this hour.”

It was a bold offer.

But the heat between you was already unbearable, the drinks just enough to make your inhibitions thin, your body humming with anticipation.

So you had smirked right back, finishing the last sip of your drink before murmuring, “Lead the way.”

And now—

Now you were perched at the edge of a sleek, polished desk, high above the city, spread open for him.

Your black lace panties hung from one stocking-clad ankle, your skirt pushed up around your waist, and your white high-neck tank top was still on—but barely. It had ridden up slightly, exposing the toned plane of your stomach, your black lace bra peeking from beneath it.

The city sprawled beneath you through the towering glass windows, a blur of neon and shadow, and the only thing grounding you in the moment was the way Tyler was going to be buried deep inside you.

His hands were gripping your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh where your stockings ended. “You’re fucking trouble,” he muttered, voice thick with desire, his thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

You smirked, pulse pounding. “You say that like you’re not the one who brought me up here.”

Tyler exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head, his dark hair slightly disheveled from where your fingers had already tangled in it. He was still half-dressed—shirt unbuttoned, belt undone, jeans shoved just low enough for this. For you.

“You’re soaking,” he murmured, running himself along your slick heat, teasing the tip against you.

“Shut up,” you breathed, gripping his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Tyler grinned. “Make me.”

You yanked him down by his chain, crashing your lips against his in a filthy kiss—tongues clashing, breath stolen, heat igniting into something feral. His groan vibrated against your mouth, and then he was pushing in, stretching you open inch by inch.

“Ahh—” Your moan slipped out before you could stop it, fingers tightening in his hair.

Tyler sucked in a sharp breath, resting his forehead against yours as he bottomed out. “Jesus, you feel—”

You rolled your hips, making him swear under his breath as he fought for control.

And then—he moved.

He pulled back only to snap forward again, rough and deep, the impact sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

“Ahh—!”

The desk creaked beneath you as he set a relentless rhythm, dragging you closer, fucking into you hard enough that the breath punched from your lungs. Every sharp thrust sent heat coiling in your belly, every shift of his hips hitting that spot inside you that made you whimper.

“Fff—!” Your hands clawed at his back through his shirt, needing something to ground yourself, needing him.

“Fuck, Luna—” His voice was raw, strained, his grip bruising as he lifted one of your legs, adjusting the angle.

“Ah—Tyler—” Your head tipped back, pleasure crashing through you, body arching off the desk.

His breath was hot against your throat as he took—his teeth grazing, biting, tongue flicking over the sensitive skin he marked as his own.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, of ragged breaths, of gasps and moans echoing against the glass walls. Outside, the world kept moving, oblivious to the way you were unraveling beneath him, to the way he was ruining you with every thrust.

And then—he slid a hand between your legs, fingers finding your clit.

“Ahh—! Tyler!”

His smirk was pure sin. “Look at you,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “Fucking perfect.”

The pleasure was unbearable—so close, right there, your entire body tensing, burning, ready to snap.

And then—he stopped moving. Buried to the hilt, fingers still teasing, but not thrusting. Just waiting.

You let out a strangled sound of protest, your body aching for more. “You bastard—”

Tyler chuckled darkly, gripping your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. “You want me to keep going?” His lips brushed against yours. “Beg me.”

A standstill. A test of wills. Your pride warred with your need, your breath coming in shallow pants, your body wound so tight you couldn’t think. He felt the way you clenched around him, but he didn’t give in.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your lips ghosting against his. You wanted to hate him. But you wanted more than that.

“…Please.”

Tyler’s pupils blew wide, his smirk fading into something darker, hungrier.

“Good girl.”

And then he snapped. His control shattered as he gripped your thighs and fucked you, pounding into you with a **** that sent pleasure crashing through you in relentless waves.

“Ahh—Tyler—!”

Your nails raked down his back, your body on fire, your vision blurring from the sheer intensity of it. His breath was ragged against your ear, his hands holding you tight, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

The desk groaned beneath you, the city outside shining through the glass, the reflection of your tangled bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

But the tension was still there, still winding tighter, still building toward something inevitable.

And fuck, did you want more.

The world outside was a blur of neon and motion, the city sprawling beneath you in a wash of car lights, office buildings, and endless movement. But in here, in this empty, high-rise executive office, nothing existed except the way Tyler Sinclair was fucking you open on his firm’s sleek, expensive desk.

Your body was on fire, trembling, every sharp thrust sending pleasure curling deep in your gut. His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, teasing over the soft fabric of your black thigh-high stockings, slipping beneath your white high-neck tank to palm your breasts through your lace bra. Every movement was deliberate, possessive, making sure you felt all of him with every stroke.

But then—he slowed.

You let out a strangled sound, gasping as he dragged his cock out of you agonizingly slow before thrusting back in, deep and measured. He knew what he was doing.

“Tyler—”

His breath was hot against your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. “I wanna see you,” he murmured, voice thick with heat. “All of you.”

He pulled back fully this time, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

Before you could protest, he gripped your waist and flipped you over, guiding you off the desk and instead next to it, until your palms met the floor-to-ceiling glass.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The glass was cool beneath your fingertips, a stark contrast to the heat of your body, the fire burning in your skin. The city stretched beneath you, an endless abyss of light and shadow, making it feel like you were standing on the edge of the world.

Tyler’s hands were everywhere—one spreading your thighs, the other smoothing over your ass before gripping it hard.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, voice dripping with hunger.

You barely had a moment to process before he was pushing in again, filling you in one deep, devastating stroke.

“Ahh—fuck—” Your forehead hit the glass, your moan fogging up the surface.

Tyler groaned behind you, gripping your hips tight, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just above your stockings. “Christ, you’re tight.”

His hands smoothed up your back before gripping your shoulders, using the leverage to pull you back against him with every thrust. The angle was insane—deeper, rougher, every stroke hitting that perfect spot inside you that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

The glass was cool beneath your heated skin, the city outside completely unaware of the way you were coming apart against it. The thought of it—of anyone down below possibly looking up, of being fucked so deep against a goddamn window—made your body clench around him. You were way too many floors high to be seen, but the thrill was the same.

Tyler felt it.

“Shit—” His rhythm stuttered for half a second before he snapped, slamming into you harder, faster, every movement hungry.

His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough for his lips to brush against your ear. “You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, voice low, teasing. “Being fucked against the glass? Letting the whole city see how good you take me?”

You gasped, thighs trembling, your fingers flexing against the glass.

“You’re so fucking filthy, Luna,” he groaned. “God, I love it.”

He drove into you, deep, knocking the breath from your lungs. The impact made your nipples drag against the glass through the thin fabric of your top, the sensation sending another pulse of arousal straight to your core.

“Ahh—”

Tyler grinned, voice smug. “Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock like a good girl?”

Your moan was ****, your walls fluttering around him as he drove you higher, faster, his fingers slipping between your legs to rub tight, perfect circles against your clit.

The pleasure coiled tight, electric, an unbearable build that had you gasping, shuddering. You needed it, needed that release, needed to let go completely.

“Come for me,” Tyler murmured against your ear, his voice an intoxicating mix of rough and gentle. “I want to feel it.”

And that—that was what did it. Your entire body snapped. Pleasure crashed through you, sudden and violent, a white-hot surge that stole the breath from your lungs.

“Ohhh—fuck—”

You shook, thighs trembling, your vision whiting out as waves of bliss wracked through you, your body milking him as you came harder than you ever had before.

Tyler swore, his grip on your waist bruising as he worked you through it, his thrusts slowing but deep, letting you feel every pulse of pleasure as it rippled through your body.

Your forehead dropped against the glass, your breath coming in ragged pants, your entire body wrecked from the intensity of it.

But Tyler wasn’t done.

He exhaled sharply, still buried inside you, his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You smirked, turning your head slightly against the glass. “Told you I was trouble.”

Tyler laughed, low and dark, gripping your ass and giving it a playful slap that made you gasp.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling back just enough before thrusting deep again, making you whimper from the overstimulation.

“I’m not fucking done with you yet.”

The glass was fogged from your breath, streaked from where your palms had dragged across it, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the slow, deliberate way Tyler was stroking into you, dragging out every inch before pressing deep again, making you feel every single second of it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice rough, hands smoothing over your back before sliding lower.

Then—

A sharp grasp, strong hands palming your tits through your bra, fingers kneading, tugging, owning.

You gasped, arching against him, your back pressing into his chest as his teeth scraped along your neck. The sensation sent sparks straight to your core, a mix of pain and pleasure as his fingers found your already sensitive nipples and rolled them between his fingertips.

Your breath hitched. “Tyler—”

He groaned, his pace still slow, teasing, dragging it out even as his hands played with you, squeezing, claiming.

“You feel so good,” he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your jaw, his thrusts pressing deeper, making you feel every inch of him.

But then—his grip shifted.

Before you could process it, he turned you around in one smooth motion.

Your back hit the glass, a shock of cool against overheated skin, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to stay up.

And then—

His mouth was on yours.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, messy, ****, no finesse—just pure hunger. His hands found your ass, gripping tight as he slammed into you, harder now, faster, his control gone.

“Ahh—fuck—”

He wasn’t holding back anymore.

Your body jolted against the glass with every thrust, the sheer **** of him almost too much. His grip was bruising, his breath ragged against your mouth, his hips snapping hard enough that your moans turned into breathless gasps.

You could barely keep up.

He wasn’t even watching you now—his forehead was pressed to yours, eyes shut, jaw clenched, lost in his own pleasure.

His fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer, deeper, his pace relentless.

Too much. Too fast.

He wasn’t paying attention to you anymore—he was just fucking you.

And then—

Without warning, he let out a sharp, guttural moan—

And buried himself to the hilt.

Your eyes snapped open.

A beat of silence.

Your stomach dropped.

“What the fuck, Tyler—?!”

Your breath came out sharp, your hands pressing against his chest in a sudden jolt of panic.

Tyler let out a long, shuddering exhale, his body pressed flush against yours, his grip still tight on your thighs. He blinked at you, dazed, chest heaving.

It took him a second—just a second too long—to register what you were saying.

“Wait,” he panted, his brow furrowing slightly. “You told me to put on a condom—”

You exhaled sharply, still catching up to the moment, still processing.

You had. You had told him to put on a condom this time. You’d remembered this time.

“You didn’t ask though,” you snapped, pushing at his chest again.

Tyler blinked at you, his expression unreadable. “You told me to use one. So what’s the problem?”

Your lips parted—And then closed. Because technically—technically—he was right. But something about it still rubbed you the wrong way. Not because he came inside. Not because there was any real risk.

But because he didn’t ask. Because it felt like, in that moment, he hadn’t even thought about you.

Your body was still humming with pleasure, wrecked in the best way, but now— Now, something was missing.

A distance. A hollow kind of satisfaction that left nothing in its wake.

Just sex. That’s all this was. You knew that. So why did it feel...wrong?

Tyler finally pulled out, letting your legs drop from around him, stepping back slightly as he tucked himself away. His hands raked through his hair, his breath still uneven.

“Jesus,” he muttered, running a hand down his face, shaking his head slightly. “That was insane.”

You let out a breathless laugh, something dry, almost detached. “Yeah.”

Tyler looked at you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “You good?”

Your skin was still flushed, your body still buzzing, but your chest felt…empty. You swallowed.

“Yeah,” you lied. “I’m good.”