Archive of Our Own

The first thing you do when you return to the hotel is take a shower. Rafayel had just dropped you off and left to see his friend’s art salon thing. He insisted he’d be fine on his own, but you’re still worried; he’s been feverish and behaving oddly ever since arriving in the desert. Understandably so—fishies like him must not do so well in this kind of dry climate. You only hope he’ll be alright by the time the trip is over and you both return back home.

As hot water runs down your body, your mind drifts to the way earlier, Rafayel had pushed your hair behind your ear and then hugged you with his lips so close to yours—like he’d wanted to kiss you, but held back for some reason. His body heat had been overwhelming, and the dizziness it left behind is still apparent in you now. You think of the way he was breathing heavily as he murmured in your ear, and your heartbeat speeds up again.

A few days ago, he’d told you that he was restless in every sense of the word, especially when you were by his side. He’d had this look in his eyes then, and you haven’t been able to get it out of your head since. The way he looked at you like he craved you, needed you… it’s impossible to forget.

And yet he hadn’t so much as kissed you once this whole trip. Petulance seeps out of you as you consider this, as well as the way he’d told you he wasn’t going anywhere but is now off without you. You wanted him too, but he hadn’t made any moves. You crinkle your brow in annoyance before lathering up soap in your hands and rub it on your face.

It feels good to have the stresses of today drip away, you think as you shower.

…If only Rafayel were here to join you—

No. Not the time to think of that. You’ll only go to bed frustrated if you entertain such thoughts.

You sigh.

But oh would it feel nice to be enveloped by his body, all hot and wet…

Your tongue clicks. Lecherous thoughts seem inescapable today. The heat in your core doesn’t seem to want to go away, no matter how many times you stick your head under the stream of water.

Perhaps it’s just best to take care of yourself best you can and alleviate some of what you feel. And then you can finish washing up and go to bed feeling alright.

Your hands trail down your slick skin, lingering on your waist, where you imagine it’s Rafayel gripping you instead. Slowly, one hand comes down between your thighs and you circle your entrance, then your clit. You’re already aroused, so you’re quite sensitive. Your other hand comes up to your breast, grabbing the flesh there with your whole hand, then focusing your attention on your nipple. Both forms of stimulation feel nice. You lean back against the shower wall as you work your fingers.

If only the showerhead had a handheld mode...

Alas, you’ll make do.

You dip one finger inside your cunt, wishing it were Rafayel’s instead. He’d be able to reach deeper. His fingers are longer than yours. You add another finger, then curl them up to hit that sensitive spot inside you. Air leaves your mouth in a rush. Your eyes squeeze shut. The sounds that come out of you are mostly muffled by the sounds of the shower running, but occasionally get loud enough to be heard.

It feels good, it really does, yet your helpless heart still yearns for Rafayel to be here. You try to put it out of your mind but your efforts are in vain. After all, the lust you feel is all aimed towards him and his beautiful face, and his beautiful voice, and his beautiful body…

You’re utterly hopeless.

Rafayel, you think, dreaming that he’ll somehow hear you, come back to me soon…

You spend several minutes teasing yourself before finally letting yourself fall off the edge with a firm press to your clit.

After letting your breathing return to normal, you begin actually washing yourself as you barely had earlier, instead mostly opting to simply stand under the water. You don’t exactly feel completely sated, but that would take all day.

Once you’ve sufficiently cleaned yourself, you step out of the shower and dry yourself with a towel. The bathroom mirror is fogged up with steam. With a hand, you wipe away the condensation in a small area so you can see yourself. You look the same as you always do, despite the turmoil in your mind. The turmoil that almost exclusively relates to Rafayel at the moment. Even now, you’re still trying hard not to think about how it would feel for him to be behind you in the mirror, kissing your neck and whispering in your ear.

Your efforts, of course, fail.

You pull on some clothes before draping the towel over your head to start drying your hair. Despite falling asleep in the car earlier, you aren’t sure if you want to head straight to bed now or not. Perhaps it may be best to attempt finishing up some work. And maybe you can pick Rafayel up after the art salon too. It must be really cold out there, since it’s snowing and all.

You’re still debating what to do when you pick up noises outside the bathroom door in your room. Like someone’s moving around there?

Puzzled and somewhat on guard, you open the door and head out to investigate the situation.

Not even five steps in, your wrist is grabbed firmly and your body is pressed against the window. Adrenaline rushes through you as you face the intruder, ready to defend yourself—

Only to see Rafayel’s face looking back at you.

He’s come back. As if your indecent fantasies about him had somehow summoned him here.

Rafayel crowds you, expression as intense as it has been many times these past few days.

“Rafayel?” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here…”

He kisses you square on the mouth. Like you’ve been hoping he would for days.

Your voice promptly fades out to nothing.

It’s so fast and so sudden, the way he’s on you instantly with no explanation. Like there’s only one thing on his mind. Against your control, your whole body heats once more. From the way his searing skin presses against you, and from the warmth now budding inside your core. His leg slots in between yours, and his lips are unrelenting on yours as they move. The feeling of him is so addicting, so distracting that you almost forget to press him on why he’s here now.

“Wait,” you say with a hoarse voice, and make yourself gently push him back with a hand on his shoulder. His lips leave yours as he’s pushed back, but he just ignores you and cups your face before kissing you again. Stubborn. He’s so stubborn.

Nonetheless, you let yourself be momentarily swept up in Rafayel’s storm. He feels good against you—it’s impossible to refute. He pulls you into him by the waist and angles your head so he can kiss you better. Your skin tingles in every place he touches you.

It soon becomes clear he has no intention of explaining himself without being pushed. You bite down hard on his lower lip to catch his attention. It works—he pulls back surprised.

“Why are you here?” you’re able to ask now that your mouth isn’t occupied by his. Rafayel’s ears are red, and his cheeks are becoming flushed as well.

He throws you off-kilter by lifting you up and carrying you towards the bed, seemingly unwilling to waste any time. Your arms loop around his neck. Your heartbeat quickens. “This is my room. You’re the one who walked in here,” he says, as if that’s sufficient enough an explanation. He runs his lips down your jaw and the side of your neck, pressing kisses down his path.

When he deposits you on the bed and climbs atop you, you put a finger to his lips. You will get an answer out of him. “What I meant was… Shouldn’t you be at that art salon?” It hadn’t been long at all since he’d dropped you off. He must have not been there for long at all before returning. If he even went at all.

Rafayel takes your hand and kisses your palm. “I’ve changed my mind,” he murmurs, sultry. Expression serious. Then he leans down to speak in your ear. “Stay with me—I’m not going anywhere.” His breath is hot as he kisses you there, the sounds of his mouth amplified. You shiver at the feeling.

You aren’t sure what exactly inspired this change in him, but decide that’s a question for afterwards. Right now you can’t think straight. He’s given you answer enough anyway. Your fingers card through his hair which is slightly damp from the snow. Rafayel sucks on your skin, seemingly intending on marking you for himself. It draws a low sigh out of you. Your body temperature feels significantly higher than normal.

His lips traverse your skin, and place kisses from one shoulder all the way over to the other, unfastening the halter of your dress so he can access your collarbone in between. His kisses are wet and audible. But he doesn’t move further down your body than that. His hands though, they trail down your waist and hips. If only there weren’t the barrier of your dress in the way…

And he’s already hard. You feel it brush against your thigh as he shifts although he doesn’t try and press it into you. You almost wish he would.

A phone call interrupts you. Rafayel pulls back from you with a wet sound, visibly irritated. Cursing, he immediately moves to hang up the call—but you see an opportunity.

“Wait.” You trail a hand up his arm and lace your fingers with his before he can hit the button. “You’re just going to hang up? What if something important comes up?” you say by his ear, letting your lips touch his flushed skin as he had done to you. You hope he picks up on the insinuation you try to convey to him.

Rafayel leers at you through the hair across his eyes—a look you won’t be quick to forget. Perhaps he understands as he lets you hit the ‘accept call’ button with your joined hands.

Pleased that he’s listened, you feel more bold. You push him down so you’re now atop him, kiss and nip at his ear more intensely than you had moments prior. The gasp he lets out is nothing short of delicious.

A voice sounds from the call—Rafayel’s friend from the art salon asking where he is and telling him to come back. But neither you nor Rafayel pay much attention to it. No—he’s much too focused on you, and your own attention is drawn to the glowing mark on his chest.

Your bond.

It glows whenever you say his name and command him, or at least that’s how you understand it. He hadn’t quite explained it in detail to you, but you get the gist. But it seems to perhaps glow now for another reason. After all, you hadn’t commanded him to do anything.

You swipe your thumb across the mark and the mole that sits right next to it. Something inside you drives you to kiss him there. The bond is such a unique element connecting the two of you in ways you can’t with other people. Putting your lips on it, you try to convey what this means to you to Rafayel. You suck on it firmly, then let your teeth drag across it.

In an instant, Rafayel flips the two of you over. He holds your wrist and gazes at you. The dim light makes his eyes seem almost deep red. “What is it that you want?” he asks, voice almost a whisper.

Your heart jolts, but you keep your voice steady. “I want you. Tonight.” You pause. “Always.”

His eyes scan yours and he exhales roughly. “…Are you sure?” He looks tortured, yet he still asks.

You nod. “Otherwise, you’ll actually go back…” Then you hesitate. “But…what will you say if you’re asked why you didn’t answer the call?”

Rafayel’s eyes darken. He tosses the bracelet on his wrist aside. “I’m busy right now.” The way he looks down at you is almost dangerous. Your breath catches. His hands move down to his hips and unfasten his belt, pulling it free and tossing that aside as well. Just that action has you heat pooling between your legs. And your gaze catches on the pronounced bulge of his crotch. You’d felt it earlier, but seeing it is exhilarating too.

He pulls your leg up against his waist and his mouth returns to your clavicle. You promptly forget about everything else except him.

This time, Rafayel doesn’t hold back as much. His hips grind against yours, and he bites the skin of your neck. You gasp—seems he’s taking notes from you tonight.

When he kisses your lips again, he laces a hand with yours. His mouth is so hot against yours. You feel dizzy. The friction of his hips feels so good… And his other hand is caressing the skin of your leg, gliding up and down and pressing into your flesh. He pushes under your dress a bit, but only till your upper thigh.

The soft noises from your mouths don’t go unnoticed. You find yourself addicted to the wet sounds of your lips joining with his and parting. He pants softly in between, as do you. When you swipe your tongue into his mouth, he moans and returns the action. You crack your eyes open when you shift position and are entranced by the sight of his long eyelashes against his cheekbone and the smooth, pale skin of his cheek. He seals his lips over yours and steals the air right out of your lungs.

The way he kisses you causes wetness to seep into your underwear. Rafayel’s allure is far too strong. His tongue seeks yours out and strokes it like he’s greedy for your taste. Like he’s been craving it for centuries. His clothed erection feels so hot and hard as he ruts against you. You make a sound as you push back his already partially unbuttoned shirt from his shoulders. He removes it fully without even breaking the kiss. When you put your hands against his bare back, you realize he’s scorching hot and sweaty.

“Rafayel,” you say. He’s discontented that you’ve broken out of his kiss. “Your temperature… You still have a fever.”

He isn’t nearly as worried as you are. “I’m fine,” he asserts and shuts his eyes. His forehead drops to your clavicle. “I just need to be with you, then I’m fine.” He inhales deeply like he’s trying to take in your scent. Then his fingers toy with the top of your dress before pushing it down to your waist and exposing your breasts. You feel his erection pulse as his hand comes up to cup one.

He squeezes the flesh between his fingers and kneads it. His mouth latches on to the other, pulling your nipple into his mouth. Then he sucks a mark onto it. His finger circles your other nipple softly. Your underwear grows even wetter from the liquid pooling out of you.

Taking him by surprise, you grab his hair and pull him back up to you. He grunts as he releases your breasts. The saliva on your breast cools from the air.

“You never listen to me, do you…” you chide.

His brows furrow like he disagrees. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Such a naughty fishie.” You lean in to whisper in his ear, “Your call is still connected.”

Rafayel looks over to the desk. Sure enough, while the recorded message is long over, it’s still connected. Meaning it’s been recording the sounds of the two of you.

“Should we give them a show?” you ask just as quietly as before.

“If… if that’s what you desire.” He’s suddenly become strangely docile.

Keeping your eyes trained on his, you trail a hand down his neck and then his chest, palm rolling over the muscles there and on his stomach. His skin is smooth and hot. Wet with sweat. His chest expands and contracts with every heavy breath he takes.

His pants are low on his waist, loose without the belt to hold them in place. Finally you reach his erection and he shudders as you grasp it steadily and rub your hand across it. It’s so firm and hot in your hand. There’s no doubt it’ll feel good inside you.

Rafayel moans your name. “Are you punishing me?”

You smile. “Is it really punishment if you enjoy it?”

He’s begun grinding himself into your hand, you realize—there’s a low vocalization with each shift he makes, an occasional moan slipping through at times. You follow his movements.

“Let me have you,” he says—nearly begs. “You want it too, don’t you? You said it.”

You did indeed. And he seems like he might burst if he doesn’t have you soon. His brows are furrowed and he’s trembling.

“Have me.”

Instead of moving to remove his own pants, Rafayel first pulls off the dress gathered around your waist and hips, leaving you clad in only your panties. Then he drops down to kiss at your bare stomach. You make a sound in surprise. His lips move down to your navel and then lower, all the way past the waistband of your underwear. At your clothed pussy, he presses his lips and kisses you lightly there too.

You whine. It’s where you’re aching the most and even the slight pressure and attention it receives makes you taut with anticipation.

Rafayel inhales and takes in your scent here. It’s absolutely insane. There’s no doubt he can see, and smell, the wetness dampening the fabric. He puts his lips around you and tastes before hooking his fingers around the fabric and pulling them off.

His eyes seem to shine at the glistening sight of your bare pussy in front of him. He seems almost entranced as he leans in to kiss you here—open mouthed and wet.

You let out a choked noise at the feeling. He is slow and deliberate and he works his lips and tongue on you like he wants to taste and feel you. Your insides feel like jelly. Slick leaks out of you with each movement he makes.

Your face is flaming hot but you can’t tear your eyes away from him. Even when the arms holding you up start to feel weak. He’s so focused on you—eyes narrowed in concentration and gentle hands on your inner thighs to spread you apart. Forehead wet with sweat. Cheeks flushed.

His nose presses into your clit and you squirm. His name escapes your lips more than once.

Your hips grind against his face and Rafayel doesn’t stop you. Perhaps he even enjoys it. When his lips seal around your clit and suck on it, your back arches and your toes curl.

God, you’re close. You’re hardly aware of the noises leaving your mouth, much too distracted.

Rafayel looks up at you with his mouth still against your pussy. The depths of his eyes hold so much affection that you think your heart might stop.

“Rafayel…”

His lips curl into a smile. He runs his tongue along you and then his finger presses against your entrance, slowly sinking in fully. Oh, his finger inside you is so much nicer than yours—long and skilled. He adds another one and presses against that sensitive spot inside you, sucking your clit again. It’s too much—you come with a cry, hands grasping at the bedsheets and legs trembling beside his head. Your arms feel too weak to hold you up anymore and your head falls against the bed.

You’re still panting when he cleans off his fingers in his mouth and then shifts to kiss your lips. You taste yourself on him.

Rafayel finally, finally removes his pants and underwear. His cock is hard and flushed pink with blood, the same tinge in his cheeks. It’s pale and smooth and pretty, like the rest of him. The tip is leaking precum.

You want to get your hands on him, maybe your mouth too and return the favor, but he’s already rubbing himself against you, the head gliding through your folds. He bites his lip at the feeling, sweat beading on his brow and chest like he’s already lost in pleasure.

Then after a few moments, he presses in. A strangled moan leaves his throat as he does so, watching his cock enter you, taking his time before he bottoms out.

You huff out a heavy breath, heart pounding. You feel so full. His cock stretches you so nicely.

“Fuck,” Rafayel hisses out. His eyes are squeezed shut, brows furrowed, teeth clenched. He almost looks like he’s in pain. With his ailment, you find yourself worried.

“Are you okay?” You bring your hand up to cup his face, which is wet with sweat.

He leans into your touch as if by instinct, covering your hand with his. “Yes. Yes. Just…” He swallows and looks at you. “Thirsty.”

You brush his cheekbone with your thumb. “Do you need some water?”

“No,” he says immediately, holding your hand more tightly and snapping his eyes open as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. “I’m fine. I just need you.”

He kisses your palm and then guides your arm to rest behind his neck. Then his hips pull back from yours before pushing back in. The rhythm he sets is slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to feel you entirely. Your stomach tingles with pleasure as his cock rubs against you. You think you might be able to feel every ridge and every vein.

The bond mark on his chest still glows a bright red on Rafayel’s chest. Over his heart. Your other hand comes up to rest against it. His heart thuds rapidly beneath your palm. He pants, hot breaths fanning over your face.

As Rafayel moves, his fingers glide over your waist and hip, then back up to brush the underside of your breast, like he’s mapping out your body and committing it to memory. He seems to be entranced by the feel of your skin. His thrusts in steadily, your slick making the drag smooth.

“Does it—ah… does it feel good?” Rafayel asks you as intently as he can. “Are you comfortable?”

You nod, voice feeling too hoarse to use, and pull him down to kiss him again.

Gradually, Rafayel’s pace increases. His hips roll into yours with more force and intensity, but never too much to handle. The bed squeaks a little with each thrust he makes, his skin against yours. And he keeps letting out these little sounds against your mouth—moans, grunts, gasps—that go straight to your head.

Rafayel pulls back from you to straighten up. You almost whine in protest because now his upper body is no longer against you, and you can’t feel as much of his skin, but he grabs your hips to lift them into his with each thrust and you swear the penetration gets deeper.

And this way you can see his body better, sweat coating every part of it; his chest, neck, arms, face. Light shines against it, making his body look delectable. You want to lick the sweat right off of him.

Rafayel moans your name as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. His fingers press into your flesh. “You’re so—mm… I just…” his voice tapers off.

“Rafayel,” you rasp.

“Say that again,” he pleads. “My name.”

You oblige, saying his name once more.

“You…” Sweat drips off his hair and lands on your thigh. His voice is low and seductive, yet broken. He looks ruined. “You don’t know what you do to me. You’re unbelievable.”

You whine, shifting your head against the sheets. It feels like you’re floating.

“I can’t—ah…escape you.” He thrusts in a bit harder and grunts. “You’re just so…” Rafayel seems to struggle to find a word to encompass what he feels.

Your hand finds his and pulls him back into you until your noses brush. Your legs wrap around his waist. “Don’t escape. I want you with me.”

His breath shudders out of him, gleaming eyes looking into yours. His eyes are the color of pink clouds against a dark blue sky, a sight you’d only be lucky enough to witness at dusk. “I won’t,” he promises before kissing you. His fingers intertwine with yours.

When your lips break apart, a droplet of sweat that glides down his cheek catches your attention. Your self-control is far too gone to stop yourself as you run your tongue along him, licking the bead away. His sweat tastes salty, with a faint taste of seaweed. And a pleasant scent rises off his skin—rich and layered like the depths of the ocean, like moss growing atop wood hidden in the shadows. Crisp and abstract and addictive.

Rafayel seems to fuck you forever, your pleasure rising more and more with each moment. Your breaths mingle and you breathe in the same air, too lost to properly formulate any proper kisses. His length rubs you just right and his tip hits all the right spots. All you can do is hold onto him tightly and let him fuck you. There’s hardly any space between your bodies with how close you are. You feel every inch of him.

His head falls to the crook of your neck, mouthing at your skin. “Thirsty… I’m so thirsty…”

You can barely hear him past the rolling waves of pleasure that keep hitting you. It’s almost overwhelming. Your clit brushes against him with each thrust—not firmly, just a graze, but the continuous added pleasure pushes you further.

Your vision blurs. You’re so close.

When you manage to choke this out in words, Rafayel pushes a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. The direct stimulation surprises you and pushes you over that edge. You gasp by Rafayel’s ear with your orgasm, breaths unsteady.

Rafayel ruts against you erratically, his rhythm breaking as he plunges in over and over. He’s mumbling things you can’t quite make out, though you think you catch your name a few times amongst the mix.

Finally, he pushes in and stills to release himself inside you, thick cum filling you up. His muscles tense, then relax as he melts into you.

You both cool down for several moments like this, embracing each other until your heartbeats slow. Rafayel’s weight presses you down.

“Did you die?” you tease, poking him.

He says something, but it’s muffled against your skin.

“Hm?”

Rafayel reluctantly shifts off of you to lie beside you. His cock slips out of you with the motion, and you feel a little dribble of his release trickle out of you. “Not yet.” His voice is still hazy and his gaze is still full of hunger. He runs a hand through his damp and disheveled hair. “I’m not finished yet.”

He pulls you on top of him with a sharp tug and you yelp before the sound is swallowed up by his lips against yours. He’s ravenous for your kisses today, like he’s making up for every lost opportunity.

And he should be—he’d been pushing aside every opportunity to kiss you these past few days. You kept getting your hopes up, wishing he’d press his lips to yours, only for him to pull away for reasons you don’t understand.

He whispers your name against your lips. His cock is hard again, rubbing against your thigh, slick with your combined fluids. This insatiable Lemurian, with near-negligible refractory times that shouldn’t be possible.

When you break from the kiss he’s panting more than he should. And his body temperature is still abnormally high.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask with a frown.

“Yes,” he manages.

You give him a skeptical look.

“I already told you. I just need you,” he says.

Rafayel licks his lips and you remember what he’d said to you earlier, about being thirsty. Making a decision, you slide off of him and stand on slightly shaky feet. But before you can make any more moves, he grabs your wrist.

“Where are you going?” he asks, distressed.

“I’m getting you some water.”

He frowns. “I’m fine I said.”

“Yet I’m still concerned you’ll shrivel up into a prune from dehydration.” There’s mirth in your words, but your tone conveys your true feelings.

He tries to pull you back into him but you resist. “I’ll get some after.”

“I’ll get some now.”

There’s a look in his eyes that somewhat reminds you of a child ready to throw a tantrum. “I came back for you. You shouldn’t leave me.”

You pry your hand out of his grasp. “I’ll be back in just a minute, I promise. You can stay here.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Rafayel. Stay here,” you command this time and the bond mark on his chest glows again.

He makes a face. “...Fine.”

It’s almost ridiculous how annoyed he seems that you’re trying to get him some water. God forbid you try and do something for him so he won’t turn into a beached salmon.

You get a cup of water for yourself which you drink before filling one up for Rafayel and bringing it back.

He’s sat up a bit since you left him, back leaning against the headboard.

“That was more than a minute,” he complains, but he seems relieved to see you’re back.

“Hardly.”

“You can’t break your promises.”

“Hush.” You straddle him on the bed with the glass of water in hand and then hold his chin to tip his face upwards.

“What—”

“Open,” you interrupt.

Rafayel blinks in brief confusion before understanding the situation. He opens his mouth.

“Drink this all and I’ll give you a reward,” you say before bringing the glass to his lips and tilting it until the liquid pours into his mouth.

He actually listens to you, perhaps motivated by your promise to give him something in return. His eyes stay fixed on you the whole time and his face is as red as the flames from his Evol. His throat bobs each time he swallows. He has submit to you in this way—at your mercy—and it’s thrilling.

Finally the glass becomes empty. You wipe away a bit of stray water that drips down his chin before setting the glass down onto the bedside table.

You hum and stroke his hair. “Good boy.”

He averts his eyes and buries his face into your chest.

“Do you feel better?” you ask.

“Yes,” he admits. His breath tickles your skin.

“Do you need more? I can get you some.”

He shakes his head, nose and lips brushing the top of your breasts. “I’m really okay. As much as I like you worrying about me.” He huffs out a little laugh. “It’s just… mostly the climate here. Not suited for a fishie like me. It’ll be like this until we return. But I’ll be fine.”

“Is there anything else that makes it better?” You play with the soft hairs at his nape.

“You do,” he says earnestly. “Being with you. Feeling you.”

Your heart jumps a little. Rafayel probably feels it too.

A few moments later he asks, “What’s my reward?”

Tracing the shell of his ear, you say slowly, “I’ll put my mouth on you. Pay back the favor.”

His cock twitches against you. “Alright…” he says a little timidly.

You can’t hide the glee that he’s accepted the offer. It’s been on your mind to taste him ever since he walked back in the room and made his intentions tonight clear. Or maybe even before that, if you were being honest with yourself.

Slowly, you pull away from Rafayel and rearrange yourself into a better position. His cock is pale and flushed, stiff in your hands. The skin is smooth and soft, wet with remnants of your combined fluids. It’s utterly unfair how everything about this man is incredibly beautiful, including this part of him. He’s utterly dazzling.

Soon you’re bending down to press your lips against the leaking tip, greedy for a taste of him. He lets out a harsh exhale, hands already gripping at the bedsheets beside him for purchase. You tease him for a little while, kissing his inner thighs and lightly against his shaft as well, letting out a hint of tongue here and there.

But he seems like he’s growing desperate for more, as are you, so you finally take him into your mouth. And oh—he moans, lewd and delicious enough for your insides to quiver. As you continue pleasuring him the sounds don’t stop either; short grunts, reedy whines, broken breaths. Your name flits past his mouth several times, almost like he can’t believe this is real. That you’re real.

You’re pulled away from Rafayel’s cock by his hand, and your sound of disapproval disappears before it can be let out as his lips capture yours. He guides you to sit back atop his lap, all while continuously kissing you. It seems he already knows what he wants, pushing his cock back into you. You whine at the sudden intrusion again, but settle quickly.

Rafayel seems a little sheepish as he says, “I won’t last long, but…”

Together you start a rhythm with your hips; steady, not too languid and not too hurried, but rather a delicious balance between the two that has you feeling like your head is up in the sky. Rafayel’s hands grip at your hips and ass, and he looks up at you with glazed eyes. You’re sure your own gaze must not be much better; his cock keeps hitting the right spots every time.

Your hands roam his face, feeling his hair first, then coming up to cup his cheeks and hold his face. You feel so powerful like this, having him literally in the palm of your hand, his body beneath you, looking at you as if you meant everything to him and more.

Despite saying he wouldn’t last long, Rafayel still manages to keep going for a while longer. Perhaps he’s holding out so he can make you come first and he just about manages to do so, your orgasm washing over you and engulfing you like a strong current. Pleasure thrums through your blood, over every part of your body.

And soon after Rafayel is sputtering curses and holding you down firmly against him to release himself inside you. You feel the heat of his cum inside you before it dribbles out when he pulls out of you.

Rafayel pulls you close to him almost immediately, arms wrapping around your body and tucking you under his chin. His heat surrounds you. “My… sweet, sweet bodyguard…” he says dreamily.

“Rafayel,” you push out hoarsely, flustered and still trying to catch your breath. “We should—ah… clean up, or something…”

His grasp tightens on you and he shakes his head. “Nope. You’re not leaving me again. We’ll deal with that later.”

So stubborn.

“My thighs are sticky,” you try again.

“I can lick you clean, if that would help.” You can’t tell if he’s being cheeky or serious.

“Raf—I… maybe not this time,” you settle on saying. “Next time.”

“Mmm.” He kisses your forehead, then nuzzles into your hair.

The two of you lay like this for a while, simply embracing and breathing alongside each other. You’re tired, yes, but you’re also content to stay like this for a while before drifting off. To feel him alongside you for longer.

Over his shoulder, you gaze out the window and see flurries of snow drifting down. It really does snow in the desert. “Rafayel…” you say softly, pulling yourself up a bit. “It’s actually snowing in the desert.”

Rafayel makes no move to turn to the window. No, instead he just gazes into your eyes as he murmurs, “Yeah. It’s so soft and beautiful…” The way he looks at you and speaks to you… there’s no small amount of reverence in them. His words hold much more veiled emotion than you expect. Your heart jolts, only to beat even faster when he leans in so slowly to kiss your lips.

It’s not a very deep kiss, yet by the time you break apart it’s like your world is spinning and he’s the only clear thing you can see. Damn it, you just had sex, and yet this kiss is what had flustered you the most.

Rafayel smiles at you in a hazy and blinding way before pulling you against his chest again.

The bond mark on his chest is no longer glowing, you realize. You wonder why it had glowed earlier even though you’d not made a command of him—barring when you’d had to get him water at least.

“Are you feeling alright now?” you ask him. “You’re still hot to the touch.”

He huffs out a short laugh and traces your ear as he speaks. “Mmm, I like when you’re worried about me cutie. But actually, I was here last time in the desert for an exhibit and I found myself in the same situation. I’ll be alright by the time we get back home.”

“Mkay…” Absentmindedly, you trail your fingertips against the skin of his chest. “What happened with the art salon your friend was doing? That you were going to after dropping me off? Did you even go?”

Rafayel hums. “Mm yeah, the art salon. I did actually briefly attend it. But let’s just say, not long in, I felt a certain little hunter thinking of me as she touched herself in the shower.”

You freeze.

“What?”

He tsks. “You must have wanted me to suffer, didn’t you cutie?”

“I didn’t—! Is… wh—how?” you stammer clumsily.

Rafayel laughs. “How what?”

“How could you feel that?” You kind of want to bury your face into the sheets and never surface but you refuse to show your weakness.

“I told you, didn't I?” Then Rafayel repeats words he had spoken to you before. “When lemurians fall in love with someone, all our senses are committed to perceive them.”

Your lips part, wanting to say something but aren’t sure what. “Oh.”

“You told me to come back to you soon. So I did.”

God, you had said that, but only in your head where you had no idea he’d be able to sense it.

“As I’m bonded to you, I can’t go against your demands.”

“I didn’t know—agh.” You sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Wow. I guess I have to keep that in mind.”

Rafayel kisses your temple. “That you do.” He softly hums a tune you don’t recognize as he plays with your hair, still damp with sweat.

“What song is that?” you ask after a long moment, curiosity piquing.

“It’s an old lemurian nursery rhyme. Why?”

“I want to hear you sing.”

“What song do you have in mind?”

You think for a moment. “Lemuria must have its own love songs.”

He chuckles and kisses your mouth. “As you wish.”

The last thing you hear before you drift off is the clear yet slightly hoarse voice of Rafayel singing to you. The sound is so beautiful and so soothing. You don’t understand the meaning of the song since the words are in the lemurian language, but can sense a bit of the sentiment through how Rafayel sings it. It feels like the warm embrace you’re currently tangled up in. Like crisp moonlight streaming down on you, and gentle waves rocking you side to side, and soft sand under your feet, and wind blowing your hair back. It feels like him and you together, you think.