Disclaimer: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.
The sun bled through the gaps of the heavy curtains, drawing long, glowing lines across the charcoal-grey carpet of Alexander's master suite. Kryztal had slipped out of bed as the first light hit the room, her body feeling a pleasant, heavy soreness that served as a visceral map of the night before.
She stood in the center of the room, fresh from a steaming shower, the scent of Alexander's expensive soap still clinging to her damp skin. She had just picked up her silk robe from the floor when she felt it—that familiar, prickling sensation of being watched. She turned slowly, her ink-black hair damp and clinging to her shoulders.
Alexander was propped up against the headboard, the silk sheets tangled around his waist, leaving his broad, muscular torso exposed. His honey-gold eyes were fixed on her with a predatory stillness that made the air in the room feel thick.
"You're awake, Alexander," Kryztal smiled, her voice a soft, morning rasp.
He didn't answer with words. He threw the sheets aside, revealing the sheer, imposing scale of his body. He stood up and crossed the room with the silent, purposeful gait that always made Kryztal's heart skip. When he reached her, he didn't hesitate; he pulled her flush against him, his hands gripping her waist as he claimed her mouth in a searing, deep kiss that tasted of lingering sleep and rising hunger.
"I'm horny. Let's do it again," he gasped against her lips, his breath hot.
Kryztal's hand instinctively traveled downward, her fingers wrapping around his length. It was already turgid, a thick, veiny pillar of heat that pulsed against her palm. She began to move her hand up and down, her thumb grazing the crown as she watched his eyes darken until they were almost black.
"Yes," Kryztal moaned, her head falling back as his mouth migrated to the sensitive hollow of her throat.
Alexander didn't lead her back to the bed. He turned her around right there in the middle of the sun-drenched room, pushing her down until her palms were flat against the soft, cool fabric of the mattress.
"Doggy," he commanded, his voice a guttural snap.
Kryztal complied, her heart hammering. She arched her back, her heavy breasts swaying beneath her as she looked over her shoulder at him. Alexander stood behind her, a monolith of raw, masculine need. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her skin, and guided himself to her entrance.
The moment he lunged forward, burying his entire length inside her in one smooth, agonizingly perfect stroke, Kryztal let out a sharp cry. He was so thick, so unapologetically large, that it felt like he was rearranging her very internal architecture.
"Alexander! Ah... sige pa..." (Alexander! Ah... more...)
He began to move—a rhythmic, punishing pace that made the bed frame groan. Every thrust was a visceral thwack of skin against skin. Just as she was beginning to lose herself in the rhythm, her phone, which she had tossed onto the nightstand earlier, began to vibrate and blare a pop song.
Kryztal's silver eyes flew open. She looked at the screen. RIA CALLING.
"Oh no," she gasped, her body jolting with every strike from behind. She had forgotten. They were supposed to meet at the UP Sunken Garden to review for their 2 PM class.
"Don't stop," Alexander growled into her ear, his teeth grazing her lobe. "Answer it."
"A-Alexander, I can't—"
He reached over her, grabbed the phone, and swiped the green icon before pressing it into her hand. He didn't slow down; if anything, he increased the depth of his thrusts, his hips slamming into hers with a new, dark playfulness.
"R-Ria?" Kryztal squeaked, trying to keep her voice steady while her body was being rocked by a 6'2" force of nature.
"Bes! Nasaan ka na? (Where are you?) I've been waiting at the canteen for ten minutes. We need to go over the structural theory notes!"
"R-Ria... Oo… may tinatapos lang ako… Ah!" Kryztal let out a short, choked moan as Alexander hit her sweet spot with a particularly deep lunge.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Ria, never one to miss a beat, let out a low, knowing chuckle. "Bes... umuungol ka ba?" (Bes... are you moaning?)
Kryztal's face turned a shade of red that rivaled her dress from the night before. She squeezed her eyes shut, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the bedsheets for dear life. "H-hinde! Mali ka lang narinig!" (N-no! You just heard it wrong!)
"Bes, hinihingal ka." (Bes, you're breathless.) Ria laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the phone. "I know that sound. Someone is getting a 'private tutorial' early in the morning, isn't she?"
Alexander's chest rumbled with a dark, triumphant chuckle behind her. He knew she was embarrassed, and the thrill of it made him go faster, his cock hitting the back of her in a way that made her vision blur.
"R-RIA!? Punta ako kaagad! (I'm coming right away!) See you!" Kryztal gasped, her voice breaking as she practically threw the phone back onto the nightstand.
"You're a terrible liar, Kryztal," Alexander whispered, his hands moving from her hips to her hair, pulling her head back so he could see her face.
He didn't let her go. He kept going, deeper and harder, until the morning air was filled with the sound of their combined breathing and the frantic, wet friction of their union. When he finally came, it was with a violent, possessive shudder that left them both collapsed against the silk sheets, the echoes of Ria's laughter still lingering in the room.
UP Sunken Garden - 1:15 PM
Kryztal hurried across the grass, her backpack heavy and her legs feeling like they were made of clouds. She had tried to fix her hair and makeup, but there was a certain glow—a look of being thoroughly loved—that no amount of powder could hide.
Ria was sitting under a large Acacia tree, a mischievous grin plastered on her face the moment she saw Kryztal approaching.
"Look who finally decided to join the mortals," Ria teased, sliding over to make room on the bench.
Kryztal sat down, avoiding her friend's eyes. "I'm sorry, Ria. The... the assignment was just really complicated."
Ria leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial stage whisper. "Oh, I bet it was 'complicated.' Was it a long assignment? Hard? Difficult to handle?"
"Ria, tumigil ka nga," (Ria, stop it,) Kryztal muttered, though she couldn't stop the smile from tugging at her lips.
Ria's eyes dropped to the silver compass necklace, then back up to Kryztal's face. She grew quiet for a second, her expression turning from playful to curious. "Alam ko yung tingin na ganyan… masarap ba? Malaki?" (I know that look... was it good? Was it big?)
The question was so blunt, so typically Ria, that Kryztal's filters finally snapped. She thought of the way Alexander looked in the morning light, the sheer power of his body, and the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
She looked at Ria, her face turning a deep, hot tomato red, but her silver eyes were bright with a secret, prideful joy.
"Oo," Kryztal whispered, her voice barely audible over the campus noise. "Sobra." (Yes. So much.)
Ria let out a triumphant "I knew it!" and began to fan herself with her notebook. "Grabe, Kryztal. From valedictorian to the Ice King's favorite student. You really are an overachiever."
"It's not just about that," Kryztal said, her hand going to the compass. "He's... he's different, Ria. He's strict, and he's scary, but when we're alone, it's like... like he's building something just for me."
"Just make sure you don't fall off the scaffolding, Bes," Ria said, her voice softening. "But for now? Enjoy the view from the top."
As the bell for their 2 PM History of Architecture class rang, Kryztal stood up. She felt the eyes of other students on her, but she didn't care. She walked toward the lecture hall with a steady gait, her body still humming with the memory of Alexander's touch.
She walked into the room and took her seat in the front row. Alexander was already there, standing at the podium, his face a mask of cold, academic indifference. He didn't look at her as she sat down. He didn't acknowledge the fact that they had been tangled together just hours ago.
"Open your books," he said, his voice a sharp, professional crack. "Today, we discuss the transition from the Romanesque to the Gothic. We discuss how a structure finds its light."
Kryztal opened her book, a small, private smile playing on her lips. She looked at the man at the podium—her professor, her lover, her architect—and she knew. The light wasn't in the buildings. It was in the shadow he cast over her, and she was more than happy to live within it.