the same ol' goo @gladiolus-mamacitia - Tumblr Blog

Can you handle all of me, cutie?

—⊹ this work was originally commissioned and given consent to be shared (personal details about the commissioner had been edited out)

MDNI 🔞 You come across a very interesting article about Lemurian biology and reproductive system of deep-sea humanoid species. It makes you think of what exactly Rafayel hasn't been showing you while having sex, so you conduct your own little research on your boyfriend. After all, what could go wrong?

⋆. — content warnings: canon-compliant, established relationship, mc gets a bit too curious, use of aphrodisiacs, lil dubcon (?) only bcs raf doesn't know at first that she uses the aphrodisiacs on him, everything is consensual after, alcohol consumption, teasing, makeout session, basically rafayel is in heat, heavy dirty talk, fucking in a bathtub, two-cocks penetration, breeding kink, mention of breeding & egg laying, oviposition

a/n: sooo like i'm not the best at monster fucking or any type that involves two cocks and eggs but... damn, i just had a lot of fun writing this one. so sorry for all the inaccuracies, if there are any, pls ignore them ^.^ anywayyy yeah now i need a 5-star or secret time of raf fucking us full Lemurian mating ritual style...pls infold

It never really crossed your mind before.

Sure, you and Rafayel were quite active in the sheets, always chasing intimacy from one another. Love, sex, pleasure—all of them were things you sought from one another, and it was one of the many important things your relationship was built upon.

Sex with Rafayel was amazing every time. Sometimes it left you so blissed out that the world outside of his warmth on top of you was inexistent for a few heavenly moments.

Whether it was his graceful hands or skilled mouth, he knew how to play your body like an instrument, like the true artist that he was, until you were singing for him, giving him the sweetest sounds. He never left you unsatisfied, nor did you him.

Still, in all those months you’ve been dating and ravaging one another in the bedroom, you never stopped to ask yourself if there could be more. Your sex life was quite active; much more active than most, if you were honest with yourself. And there weren’t any problems when it came to fantasies, either.

You and Rafayel shared most, and they weren’t quite vanilla, either. Ropes, wax, blindfolds—these were what you would call a usual round of daily sex with Rafayel. You tried plenty of spaces too, because he was adamant to take you on every piece of furniture he owned.

But he never stopped at those, either. It was his mansion, the beach, his cars. Even when attending events with him, he would find a way to cheekily sweep you away in a restroom or a secluded corner and turn your legs to jelly, make your makeup run down your face, and your mouth hang open in soft moans you tried to keep at bay in fear of being overheard. He was very amused watching you try.

So why would you think of more? You were beyond satisfied with how things were going for you two, so your curiosity was satiated enough.

Or so you thought. Because curiosity is a dangerous feeling to have, and your curiosity about your boyfriend in other aspects of his life was still burning bright. Now it just shifted perspective.

It started, as most dangerous things do, with a question you shouldn’t have asked.

You were currently on Rafayel’s couch, legs draped across his lap while he scrolled through something on his phone with one hand and traced absent circles on your ankle with the other. The evening was warm and salt-laced, the way it always was when the tall windows were cracked open to let the breeze curl through the curtains.

You stopped scrolling some minutes ago.

You’d found the forum by accident, really. A thread about marine biology that had spiraled into Lemurian mythology, then into a university lecture someone had transcribed and posted, something about the reproductive biology of deep-sea humanoid species.

The language was academic and dry, full of clinical terms and speculative footnotes, but the content was… well, quite specific. References to diphallia structures in oceanic bipedal species. Egg-laying triggered by environmental and chemical stimulus. Heat cycles distinct from illness or weakness, tied instead to arousal and a biological imperative to reproduce.

Your curiosity was instantly piqued, eyes glued to every word like they held all the answers in the world. It was quite strange how rapidly and tightly the article held your attention, but you supposed it was something every human that came across it would be. Or at least some.

The subject wasn’t really something you could casually ask him about. Rafayel tended to be hard to crack open about certain subjects. It was true he would never keep something important hidden from you, but there were still quite a few things you didn’t get the chance to know about him. Especially things that had to do with his Lemurian nature. More often than not, he would just redirect the subject lightly to something else, or he would occasionally indulge you and tease you with crumbs of information you greedily stored away in the special part of your brain where every little thing you learned about Rafayel went.

You glance up at your boyfriend.

His face was illuminated by the warm light coming from the lamp beside his head, and you couldn’t help but stare a little bit, your mind already trying to piece together information you don’t have. You must look so stupid right now, with your eyes probably a bit wider than before, looking like a deer caught in the headlights at the new information registering in your brain.

He has two. It should not have come as such a big of a surprise, so why were you ogling at your boyfriend from across the couch as if this was brand new information? It shouldn’t have been, and you mentally scolded yourself from being so oblivious to it.

He is not human, so of course his biology would differ from one of humans. That alone sent a subtle shiver down your spine, mind already conjuring up an image you were unfamiliar with.

You turned your head back to your phone, scrolling through the article some more, trying your best not to tense your leg muscles where Rafayel’s fingers were knitting softly at your calf.

The information rushed in with renowned speed, your mind filing it away for later. You didn’t even notice you were biting your lip until Rafayel’s chuckle echoed softly from your right, and you inevitably turned your head towards the sound.

“What’s got you so entranced over there, cutie?” he cooed, and you knew he was amused and intrigued at what went on your screen. “It must be something good ‘cause you’re giving no mercy to your lip. You always do that when something’s got your full attention.” A slow, almost knowing smirk graced his pink lips. “You might draw blood from it if you don’t stop soon.”

You felt your throat work softly as you swallowed, right before giving him an easy smile, closing your phone and putting it face down on the couch.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just came across an interesting book and got a little too curious.”

If you wanted to know more, you had to play your cards right. So, you pulled your legs from his lap before climbing over the soft cushion, hand traveling up his torso before you settled your body on top of his, nuzzling his neck.

“Mmm, you smell good,” you hummed against his skin, pressing a slow kiss to the spot just beneath his jaw, feeling the vibration of his laugh travel through his chest into yours.

“Flattery’s not gonna distract me from the fact that you just hid your phone like you got caught watching something you shouldn’t,” he drawled, fingers already threading into your hair with a laziness that contradicted the sharpness in his voice, tipping your face up to look at him. “C’mon. Spill.”

“I told you, it was a book,” you murmured, holding his gaze and keeping your expression even despite the warmth creeping up the back of your neck, tracing a finger down the collar of his shirt. “Since when are you so interested in my reading habits?”

“Since you started biting through your own lip over them,” he countered without missing a beat, thumb brushing across your bottom lip as if to prove his point, eyes half-lidded and glittering with amusement. “What kind of book makes my girl look like she just discovered fire for the first time?”

“An academic one, actually,” you offered with a shrug, letting your fingers drift lower, walking them down the center of his chest in a slow trail, watching the way his eyes track the movement before flicking back to your face. “About marine biology… Lemurian mythology... Reproductive habits of deep-sea humanoid species and all that stuff.”

The circles on your back stilled.

It was so brief. A fraction of a second where his fingers froze against your spine before they resumed their lazy pattern, and if you weren’t pressed chest-to-chest with him you might have missed it. But you were, so you didn’t.

“Huh,” he breathed, the syllable light and careless but the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that told you he knew you were onto something. Still, would Rafayel still be Rafayel if he didn’t pivot your little questioning? “Sounds boring.”

“It wasn’t,” you countered, resting your chin on his chest and letting your eyes go wide and innocent, the way you know gets under his skin, tilting your head just enough to sell it. “It was actually really... thorough and specific. It even offered some additional readings.”

“Specific how?” his voice dipped into something lower as his hand slid from your hair to the nape of your neck, fingers curling there with a possessiveness that made your throat work around a swallow. It always did when his touches became more intentional.

“Well,” you started, tracing a slow path over his collarbone, keeping your tone light enough to pass for casual but pointed enough that he’ll feel the edge of it. “For example, did you know that certain deep-sea bipedal species have dual reproductive anatomy? Two of everything, apparently.”

You watched his face carefully, looking for some kind of answer there, gauging if he would actually offer you something or pivot again. To your dismay, only his pupils contracted for a split second before they dilated again, just as the flush started at the tips of his ears, faint and pink, before he smothered it under a grin so smug it bordered on insufferable.

“You’re asking me if I knew that,” he repeated, voice dripping with honeyed theatricality that would have been convincing if his thumb wasn’t pressing a little too firmly into the pulse point at your neck, feeling your fast heartbeat. “About deep-sea species. Academically and definitely not because you wanna know all my secrets, yeah?”

“Academically, I promise.” you confirmed, nodding once with a solemnity you absolutely did not feel, and let your fingers drift to the side of his neck, tracing the tendon there with featherlight motions.

“Cutie,” the word rolled off his tongue like warm honey, slow and sweet and entirely a weapon as he tilted his head back against the cushion, watching you from beneath those thick lashes with an expression that was equal parts fondness and warning. “If you wanna know something about me, you could just ask.”

Your heart kicked behind your ribs, hard and fast and almost suffocating. Still, you had to push through.

“Okay, yeah.” you whisper, pressing up on your elbows so your face hovered above his, noses nearly touching. His breath caught against your lips when you closed the distance to something almost dangerous, your voice a slow, innocent purr. “So how does it work? For you, I mean.”

The silence that followed was warm and thick and charged, felt it hum between your bodies like an ocean’s current.

His hand moved from your neck to your jaw, cradling it and tilting your face so the lamplight caught in your eyes. He studied you with something flickering behind his gaze that you couldn’t quite name, because Rafayel had this specific look in his eyes whenever he was debating something. Then his mouth curled very, very slowly into the kind of smile that had ruined you more times than you cared to count.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Miss Bodyguard,” he purred, dragging the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone, and you swore you could feel the warmth radiating off his ears from here, betraying every ounce of composure that smile was working so hard to sell.

“Yeah,” you breathed firmly, not backing down, holding his gaze even as your stomach flipped. “I really would.”

You saw in real time, the smugness flickering for a moment into something rawer, something surprised and pleased and a little undone, before he caught it and tucked it back behind that insufferable grin.

“Wow,” he exhaled on a laugh, his fingers trailing from your jaw to your throat, resting there like a dare for you to continue your little innocent act. “My bodyguard’s doing species research on me now? Should I be worried or flattered, cutie?”

“Well, that depends,” you turned your head just enough to press your lips to the inside of his wrist, feeling his pulse jump beneath your mouth. “On how honest your answer is, baby.”

He watched you kiss his wrist with an expression that went briefly, beautifully blank, lips parting on a breath he didn’t quite release, before he let out a huff, dropping his head back against the cushion.

“This is what I get for dating a curious little Hunter,” he announced to the ceiling, but his free hand easily found your hip and pulled you tighter against him, fingers pressing into the curve of your waist. “Reading weird academic forums and then crawling into my lap to interrogate me about my anatomy.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” you pointed out, pressing another kiss to his jaw, then the corner of his mouth, punctuating each one like a period at the end of a sentence he can’t escape.

“And I’m not gonna,” he hummed against your lips, catching the last kiss and holding you there, close enough that when he spoke, his mouth brushed yours with every word. “Not tonight, at least. Not because you found some sketchy forum and got all curious and doe-eyed on my couch."

The smile on his face was soft at the corners but sharp in the middle, the kind of smile that held a secret behind its teeth.

“Buuut I’ll tell you this much for free,” he added, voice dropping to something warm and private, fingers tilting your chin up, “Whatever you read in your little article? Doesn’t even come close, baby.”

Then he kissed your forehead, gentle and lingering before he casually reached for his phone again as if he didn’t just set fire to your brain.

You settled back against his chest, heart hammering, and the subject closed. For now. But you could still feel the heat of his skin beneath your cheek, a degree warmer than usual. The way his fingers on your hip were tracing patterns that felt less like absent habit and more like a language you haven’t learned yet.

You were gonna find out what he meant by that.

True to your word, in the next couple weeks since your little chat on his couch, you made it your silent mission to gather as much information about this as you could manage. You went to libraries, bookstores, even deep-dived the internet until you ended up on the most questionable websites.

Each of them pointed you in a specific direction, like a map following a hidden treasure you were sure to find at the end of it.

The mythology was, expectedly, vague. Lemurian texts were rare and fragmented, scattered across old maritime archives and folklore collections that treated the entire civilization like a fairytale rather than the breathing reality you slept next to every night. Most of what you found was speculative at best, contradictory at worst, filtered through centuries of human interpretation that had no business trying to explain a species it barely believed existed.

But there were patterns. Threads that kept weaving through the noise, consistent enough to feel like they meant something.

Heat cycles tied not to seasons or to Ebb Day, but to stimuli. Botanical compounds derived from deep-sea flora that could coax a Lemurian body into a heightened state of arousal, something distinct from regular desire, more primal, more consuming. References to mineral-rich waters activating dormant nerve pathways along the spine and neck, places where scales would bloom first. Specific points of contact that could trigger the shift from human presentation to something closer to what they truly were under the innocent surface.

You sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor one night with your laptop balanced on your knees and three tabs open, cross-referencing a botanist’s field journal from the 1800s with a digitized scroll fragment someone had uploaded to an obscure academic database. Your eyes burned from the screen’s glow and the hour was embarrassingly late, but you couldn’t stop. Every new detail slotted into place with a click you could almost hear, building a picture you had no reference for but wanted desperately to see.

The reality of what you were doing hit you in odd moments. Standing in an apothecary shop downtown, turning a small glass bottle of sea kelp extract over in your fingers, reading the label with such focus that made the shopkeeper eye you with mild concern. Sitting in a university library with a thick, leather-bound volume of oceanic mythology open in your lap, your thumb tracing an illustration of a Lemurian figure half transformed, the artist’s rendering of scales blooming along a throat and chest in patterns that looked like living jewelry.

Your stomach had flipped at that one. Not from discomfort. From want.

You thought about Rafayel’s skin. The way it caught light wrong at times, or right, depending on how you looked at it. A shimmer along his shoulders after a swim that he toweled away too quickly. The faint iridescence at the hollow of his throat on humid nights that you’d attributed to sweat and lamplight but now recognized for what it was.

You’d been sleeping with a Lemurian for months and somehow managed to miss the details that were, quite literally, right beneath your fingertips.

The guilt of that realization was brief but sharp, replaced almost immediately by a curiosity so consuming it bordered on hunger.

Your shopping list grew quietly. Sea mineral bath salts from a brand that sourced high concentrations of magnesium and oceanic elements. A bottle of blue lotus oil that a mythology forum swore was derived from the same deep-water flowers Lemurians used in bonding rituals. Dried saffron and passionflower, referenced in three separate texts as having mild aphrodisiac properties specific to aquatic species. A packet of black volcanic salt that smelled like the ocean floor and cost more than you were comfortable admitting.

You kept everything in a bag tucked in the back of your closet like contraband.

And through all of it, Rafayel acted none the wiser.

He didn’t mention the conversation on the couch again. Didn’t tease you about your late-night reading habits, didn’t raise an eyebrow when you showed up at his studio smelling faintly of essential oils because you’d been testing combinations on your own wrist during your lunch break. He painted, he complained about Thomas, he kissed you hello at his door and pulled you onto his lap with the same ease he always did.

It was almost convincing.

But you knew him. You knew the way he watched you when he thought you were busy with something else and not paying attention to him, the way his gaze lingered for quite a while when you emerged from the bathroom at his place, the way his nose twitched, almost imperceptibly, when you leaned close and the new oils on your skin met the warm air between your bodies.

He knew, you were sure of it. Or at best, he knew intuitively you were up to something. He was one of the few Lemurians you knew, keenly aware of his own biology, and everything you were piecing together from old books and internet rabbit holes, he carried in his blood and bones. Your research was guesswork dressed in academic language. He was the primary source, and he was watching you fumble around the footnotes with such quiet, cat-like satisfaction.

It should have frustrated you. Instead, it lit something competitive in your chest, a stubbornness that tasted sweet at the back of your throat.

Fine. If he wanted to sit back and watch you work for it, you’d give him a show worth watching.

The plan came together on a Thursday evening, while you stood in your bathroom staring at the collection of oils and salts and dried botanicals lined up on your counter like ingredients for a spell. You picked up the blue lotus oil, uncapped it, and the scent hit you in a wave, something sweet and dark and aquatic that made your pulse quicken in a way that felt almost sympathetic, as if your body already understood what this was for even if your mind was still catching up.

You thought about his bathtub. That ridiculous, beautiful, oversized thing in his bathroom, the one he claimed was essential for his creative process but mostly used to soak for hours after painting all day, water lapping at the edges while he hummed old melodies you didn’t recognize but were very curious about. You’d shared it with him before, your back against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head, his fingers making lazy trails through the warm water and occasionally up your arms just to feel you shiver.

The bathtub was the key. Warm water, enclosed space, the minerals and botanicals dissolved into something he’d absorb through every inch of his skin. And you, close enough to touch, to watch, to press your fingers into the places your research told you would matter most.

You packed the bag carefully that weekend. Rolled the glass bottles in a soft cloth so they wouldn’t clink together, tucked the salts into a pouch, layered everything under a change of clothes and a bottle of wine so it looked like you were just coming over for the night.

Which you were. You were just also coming over with an agenda.

The drive to Whitesand Bay was shorter than usual, or maybe it was your own excitement making you drive faster to finally see him and spend some time together. You were swarmed with Wanderer missions upon missions in the past week, so you barely had time to meet in person. Of course, that didn’t stop Rafayel from whining through text and facetime.

He opened the door before you even knocked.

“Took you long enough, cutieee,” he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed and his bottom lip jutting out in a pout so practiced it should have lost its effect on you months ago, but it hadn’t, and he knew it. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? I almost withered from being denied my cutie’s presence.”

“Rafayel, we saw each other on Tuesday,” you reminded him, but you were already smiling yourself, already stepping into his space and pressing up on your toes to kiss the pout off his mouth. He melted into it immediately, arms unfolding to wrap around your waist and pull you inside in one fluid motion, the door swinging shut behind you with a nudge of his foot.

“Tuesday was forever ago!” he whined softly against your lips, punctuating it with another kiss, then another, short and warm and a little bit greedy, his fingers already slipping beneath the hem of your jacket to find the warmth of your lower back. “I counted the hours. Almost called Thomas to complain about you, which I’m sure he wouldn’t have appreciated.”

“About me?” you laughed, pulling back just enough to look at him. The sight of him this close made your chest do something soft and involuntary. His hair was slightly damp, curling at the ends the way it did after a shower, and he was wearing a loose linen shirt that hung open at the collar, exposing the line of his throat and the beauty marks scattered there like a constellation you’d memorized with your mouth plenty of times before and were still greedy to do it a thousand times more.

“About you,” he confirmed, taking your bag from your shoulder and setting it down without looking, his eyes never leaving your face, thumb stroking along the curve of your waist. “For being cruel. For having a job that demanded all of your attention. For not living here permanently so I can look at you whenever I want.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you scoffed at his exaggerated pout, cupping his face in both hands, watching as his eyes fluttered shut when your thumbs traced along his cheekbones, tilting into your touch with a contentedness that made him look younger, softer and pliant for you to do whatever you wished.

“Mm. Ridiculously in love with you, maybe,” the words were casual and airy, but his hands tightened at your waist possessively, pulling you flush against him like he needed to verify you were actually there, solid and warm and his for the entire evening, finally. He thrived on physical touches, so you knew there was no chance for you to not be within his grasp at all times tonight. Not that you wanted to, anyway.

You spent the first hour the way you often did on nights like these, tangled up in each other on the makeshift nest of blankets he’d spread in front of the fireplace; the kind of setup he always pretended was spontaneous but clearly carefully arranged before you arrived. The wine was good, and you shared it between lazy kisses that tasted like dark fruit and warmth.

You sat sideways in his lap with your legs draped over his thigh, one arm looped around his neck while the other held your glass. One of his hands was on your knee, stroking the bare skin there with a thumb that moved in slow, hypnotic circles, and that made the hair at the base of your neck stand up in a pleasant sensation. The fire crackled low and amber beside you, casting everything in shades of gold, and when you turned your head to say something about the wine his mouth was already there, catching yours in a kiss that was deeper than the last one, slower, the kind that made you forget what you’d been about to say.

The second glass made him handsy. The third made him aroused.

His cheeks had gone rosy, the way they always did when he drank, a flush that spread from the bridge of his nose to the tops of his ears and made his eyes look impossibly warm, half-lidded and glittering in the firelight. He abandoned any pretense of subtlety, pressing his face into the curve of your neck and leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses along the line of your throat, each one wetter than the last, his breath hot against your skin and his lashes tickling your jaw.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbled into your pulse point, voice had gone syrupy from the wine, vowels stretching and consonants softening into something almost melodic. “S’not fair. You always feel so good, wanna keep you in my arms forever.”

You giggled, tipping your head to give him better access despite yourself, fingers threading through the damp curls at the back of his head to guide him closer. He made a low, satisfied sound against your skin that vibrated through you, before his hand slid up from your knee to your thigh with confidence, purposely keeping his touch light, knowing it’ll make you crazy, make you meet him halfway.

The heat between you climbed the way it always did, in increments you barely noticed until the air felt heavy and your breathing had gone shallow and his mouth had migrated from your neck to your collarbone, tongue tracing the dip between the bones in a way that made your fingers tighten in his hair as pleasure surged through you, slow and warm.

“Raf,” you breathed, prompting a hum against your skin in response, a sound that loosely translated to I’m listening but mostly meant I’m busy. You laughed softly, tugging his head up so you could see his face. The sight of him, flushed and wine-soft and looking at you like you’d invented color, made your heart stutter. “You’re warm too. We should cool down.”

His brow furrowed in faint protest.

“Why would we do that when this is so much better,” he countered, chasing your mouth with his, and you let him catch it for a moment before pulling back with a grin.

“Let’s take a bath,” you suggested, smoothing his hair back from his forehead, watching the idea land behind his eyes, the slight narrowing of his eyebrows followed by the slow curl of a smirk that he couldn’t quite suppress even through the haze of the wine.

“A bath,” he echoed, voice dropping a register as his gaze dragged down your body and back up again with a hunger that made your toes curl. “Together. To cool down.”

“Mm-hm.

“Sure, cutie,” the smirk plastering his kiss-bitten lips widened into something knowing and warm as he pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Whatever you say.”

He let you go with visible reluctance, fingers trailing along your arm as you climbed out of his lap. You felt his gaze on your back as you grabbed your bag from the entryway and disappeared into the bathroom.

The room was already warm from the steam of what you assumed was his previous bath, which he must have had hours before your arrival, yet the haze still lingered. You set your bag on the counter before turning the tap, letting hot water pour into the oversized marble tub. The sound of it filled the space like white noise, covering the small clinks of glass as you worked.

You pulled the cloth bundle from your bag first, unrolling it with careful fingers. The blue lotus oil went in while the water was still running, a few drops that dissolved into the stream and released a scent so sweet and dark it made the air feel thicker. The sea mineral salts followed, a generous handful that fizzed and shimmered as they hit the surface, turning the water faintly opalescent. You tucked the passionflower and saffron into the pour from the tap, letting the heat steep them like tea, their fragrance layering beneath the lotus into something heady and oceanic.

The black volcanic salt went last. You poured it from the pouch and it sank through the water in dark ribbons before dissolving, and for a moment the entire bath looked like liquid midnight before the minerals diffused into something softer, an iridescent, pearl-like sheen that caught the bathroom light and scattered it in ways that reminded you, with a sharp pull behind your ribs, of his skin.

You rolled the empty bottles back into the cloth and tucked them into the bottom of your bag beneath your clothes, then added a capful of the unscented bubble bath he kept on the shelf, enough to disguise the color and cover the surface with a thin layer of foam.

Rafayel appeared in the doorway just as you straightened up, shoulder leaning against the frame, shirt already unbuttoned and hanging loose on his frame. The flush from the wine was still painted across his cheeks, and his eyes were heavy-lidded as they tracked you with a warmth that made your breath catch.

“Smells good,” he noted, tipping his head back slightly and breathing in. You watched keenly as something in his expression shifted, subtle and fleeting, his nostrils flaring just barely before the lazy smile returned. He crossed the bathroom in two strides and pressed himself against your back, arms winding around your waist, chin hooking over your shoulder. His lips found the nape of your neck as he left a slow, damp kiss there that made you shiver.

“New bath salts?” he asked against your skin, voice casual and curious, muffled by the fact that he was already trailing another kiss below your ear, then another along the side of your throat, his hands splaying warm and wide across your stomach

“Picked up a few things,” you managed through a shaky breath, tilting your head as his mouth found a spot that made your knees soften. His smile pressed into your skin, smug and fond and a little drunk.

“Mm. Spoiling me,” he murmured, swaying you both gently while the water continued to run behind you, filling the tub.

You turned in his arms and kissed him, slow and intentional, hands sliding beneath the open panels of his shirt to settle against the warm skin of his waist. Your thumbs pressed into the muscle there, kneading in small, firm circles which had his mouth faltering against yours as a low, throaty moan spilled from his chest into your mouth, his hips pressing forward into you on instinct.

“That’s cheating,” he tutted between kisses, but he didn’t stop you, didn’t pull back, just kissed you deeper as his fingers found the hem of your top and dragged it upward with a slowness that felt punishing, knuckles grazing your ribs, your stomach, the underside of your breasts, each inch of exposed skin met with a brush of his fingertips that made you gasp softly against his mouth.

The top came off and his hands were already on your bare waist, pulling you closer, making the kiss turn harder, wetter, his teeth catching your bottom lip in a way that pulled a keen from somewhere low in your throat. He swallowed the sound with a hum of satisfaction, tongue soothing the place he’d bitten while his fingers worked at the clasp behind your back with such ease that would have been annoying if it didn’t make your thighs clench together.

You pushed his shirt off his shoulders in return, palms dragging down the planes of his arms, the fabric pooled at his elbows before he shook it off impatiently, mouth never leaving yours. His skin was hot beneath your hands, hotter than usual, and when you pressed your thumbs into the divots of his hips above his waistband he groaned breathily, the sound vibrating through your joined mouths and settling in the pit of your stomach like something molten.

The rest of your clothes came off in pieces, traded between kisses that grew deeper and more breathless with each layer that fell to the tile. His fingers hooked into your waistband and dragged down with a patience that contradicted the hunger in his mouth, trailing fire down your thighs, your calves, thumbs pressing into your ankles as he knelt to pull the fabric free. You tugged at the drawstring of his pants as he stood to let them fall, and for a moment you both stood there in the warm, fragrant air of the bathroom, bare and flushed, breathing each other in.

His eyes were hazy. The wine sat heavy and pretty in the flush across his cheekbones, and the steam curling up from the bath behind you had dampened his hair at the temples, the purple curls darkening and clinging to his skin. His brows were furrowed faintly, a soft crease between them that you’d learned to read as the space between confused and overwhelmed, but before he could examine it too closely you stepped into him, cupped the back of his neck, and pressed your mouth to the side of his throat.

He melted.

A shudder rolled through his entire body, his head tipping back to give you room. You kissed a slow, wet line from the hinge of his jaw to the hollow beneath his ear, letting your breath fan across the sensitive skin as you marked the pretty skin with your love bites. His hands found your hips and gripped, fingers pressing crescents into the flesh, soft needy moans spilling from his lips that had your clit throbbing in need.

You guided him backward. One step, then another, your mouth still working at his neck until his calves hit the edge of the tub and he took the cue, sinking into the water with a hiss that was half relief and half pain from the difference in temperature. You followed, settling between his legs with your back against his chest. The water was warm and fragrant, the minerals and oils you’d dissolved into it lapping at your skin with every small movement.

His arms wrapped around you immediately, pulling you flush against him, having you feel every line of his body pressed to yours, the rise and fall of his chest against your back, the firm warmth of his cock already half-hard and nestled against the curve of your ass exciting you. You tilted your head back against his shoulder and turned, half-twisting so your hand could travel up the wet plane of his chest, fingers tracing the dip of his sternum and the line of his collarbone, before threading into the damp hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

He groaned into your mouth, a sound so low it was nearly subterranean. You took his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging gently before releasing it to press a trail of slow open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. When you reached his ear, you closed your teeth around the lobe and bit down softly. A breathy, broken whimper that cracked in the middle was the delicious response, his hips jerking up against you while his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs beneath the water with a grip that made you moan.

He was getting harder. You could feel him, pressed tight and insistent between your bodies, twitching every time your mouth found a new spot on his neck, every time your fingers dragged through the wet hair curling at his nape. And beneath the haze of the wine and the breathlessness, something else was settling into him, something slower and much different than his usual aroused self, that you could feel in the way his breathing changed, the way his chest expanded and held before releasing in shaking exhales that stirred the hair at your temple.

The oils were working.

You felt the way his body transformed in real time. The way his grip went from firm to bruising, fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to make you gasp, then harder still, pulling you back against him so there was no space left between your bodies. His hips had started to move, subtle at first, then less so, rocking up against you in slow, shameless rolls that dragged the length of him along the cleft of your ass and made your breath hitch on every upstroke.

“Mmh shit, baby,” it came out shakier than you intended, because his mouth had found the junction of your neck and shoulder where you were extra sensitive and he was sucking a mark there that made your vision blur and would probably last for days.

He was panting much harsher now. Different from the lazy, wine-warmed breathing from before. It was more ragged, and when you moved in his lap to turn and look at him, the sight of him stole the little air you had left right from your lungs.

His eyes were dark. Not the warm, half-lidded drowsiness of a few minutes ago but something consuming, pupils blown so wide the pink and blue of his irises were reduced to thin, iridescent rings. The flush had deepened too, spreading from his cheeks down his neck, and his lips were swollen and parted, each breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls that made his chest heave against your back.

“What did you put in this water?” his voice was a rough rasp, way different and a bit unrecognizable, but the smirk that followed was pure Rafayel, slow and dangerous and dripping with a smugness that had no business being there when his hands were trembling against your skin. “Because whatever it is, cutie... it’s doing something to me.”

You turned in his lap fully, facing him now as your knees bracketed his hips, the motion pressed you together in a way that made you both groan in pleasure. His hands slid up your thighs to your hips, gripping with a roughness that sent heat flooding through your pussy, making your clit pulse harder, begging for some attention. You watched his jaw tighten as he fought to keep the composure his voice was pretending to have.

“I might have done some shopping,” you cooed, tracing a finger along the wet line of his jaw, followed by a smile so sweet it was enough to rot teeth.

“Shopping,” he scoffed, eyes narrowing, dark and glittering, as his hands traveled upwards from your hips, dragging slow and heavy over the curve of your waist, the dip of your ribs, until his palms settled over your breasts and squeezed with a pressure that pulled a sharp gasp from your throat. “Wanna be more specific, princess?”

“Aphrodisiacs,” you moaned, arching into his palms and seeking more of him, your fingers curling around the back of his neck to keep yourself steady. “Lemurian ones, specifically. From every mythology text I could get my hands on.”

His thumbs found your nipples and rolled, slow and punishing, and the moan that tore from you made his cock twitch hard against your thigh.

“Sneaky little thing,” he groaned, low and approving while his mouth found the curve of your neck and sealed over a spot that made your vision swim. “Drugging your boyfriend in his own bathtub with shady things you find on the internet. That’s bold, even for you.”

“You would’ve never told me yourself,” you countered breathless, tugging at the wet curls at his nape, and his teeth scraped your throat in response, a warning that made your hips buck.

“Tell you what, exactly?” he cooed against the bruise he was sucking into your skin, one hand sliding from your breast down through the water, fingers trailing fire over your stomach, lower, lower, until they settled between your thighs and pressed against your clit in slow, devastating circles. “What did all that research tell you, hm? I wanna hear it from your pretty mouth.”

Your head fell forward against his shoulder, a whimper catching in your throat as his fingers worked you in lazy, practiced strokes that had your pussy clenching in need of attention, which was why he was silently punishing you by keeping his touch extra light.

“It said,” you started confidently but the words fractured as his thumb pressed harder, your nails biting into his shoulders. “It said that... nghh, t-that you have two cocks? And it made me curious because you’ve never…”

The circles stopped when you trailed off. His hand stilled between your thighs, and you felt him inhale, sharp and deep, his chest expanding against yours. The silence held for one charged, breathless second before his exhale came out shaking, hot against the wet skin of your neck.

“Never what?” he rasped, and when you lifted your head to look at him his expression made your stomach drop. His eyes were blown black, the thin rings of pink and blue around his pupils shimmering like oil on water, and his lips were parted and swollen, each breath coming in shallow pulls that moved his whole chest.

The flush had spread from his cheeks down his throat and across his collarbones, and beneath the waterline you felt him throb against your thigh, hard and insistent and clearly he was imagining bending you over the tub and taking you hard and raw.

“Never shown me,” you whispered, cupping his face as your thumbs traced the sharp line of his jaw tenderly, holding his gaze even though the intensity of it made your pulse roar. “You’ve never let me see all of you. The real you, I mean. It didn’t bother me at first, but I can’t deny I’m not curious now…”

Rafayel’s intense gaze had you faltering for a splitting second, something cracking open behind his hazy stare. A flicker of rawness, surprised and hungry, that he smothered under a grin so filthy it made heat pool low in your belly fast as lightning, had you dripping on his thigh underwater.

“You want both of them, cutie? Real question is, can you handle both?” his voice had dropped into something so sinful it had your eyes roll back at the mere thought of being stuffed so full by not one, but two of his cocks.

On the good days, you took him like a champ, greedily swallowing him inside your warmth, demanding more and more as he gave into your every demand. On other occasions, he had you whining and begging for mercy, pounding you into the surface he laid you on and controled your pleasure like a puppet master.

A low purr vibrated against your sternum as his fingers resumed between your legs, pushing inside you with a slowness that made your mouth fall open and a sinful moan spill from it, obscene and loud in the tiled room. “Wanna see with your own eyes what your boyfriend’s really packing? All you had to do was ask, beautiful.”

“I’m asking now,” you managed breathlessly through a whimper, clenching tightly around his fingers and rolling your hips into his hand. The friction pulled a groan from him that sounded like it was dragged from somewhere deep and involuntary, which made you squeeze your eyes shut and grind harder. “Won’t you show me, baby?”

His forehead dropped against yours, and you felt the breath leave him in a shudder, his jaw working like he was swallowing something too big for his throat. His fingers curled inside you, pressing against his favorite spot, the one he loved to bully, the one that had your spine arching and a cry tearing from your lips, all while he watched your face come apart with an overwhelmed expression.

“I don’t think you have any idea what you do to me when you talk like that,” he groaned, his free hand gripping your jaw rather harshly and tilting your face so his mouth hovered over yours, close enough that you breathed each other’s air. “Sitting in my lap, taking my fingers so good, asking to see my cocks like you’re ordering dessert. Are you that greedy to be fucked senseless over this bathtub, huh?”

“Nghh—fuck, oh fuck,” you whimpered, because his thumb had found your clit again and was circling it in tandem with the fingers inside you. The euphoric sensation was making it hard to think, hard to breathe, hard to do anything except hold on and shake like a leaf.

“What else?” he demanded, pulling his fingers out slowly, dragging them through your soaked folds until you were trembling and empty and whining at the loss. His hands gripped your hips, lifting and repositioning you against him so the hard length of his cock pressed directly between your folds. His hips rolled up, coating himself in your slickness causing a groan to rumble through both your bodies. “Tell me what else those books said. C’mon, I wanna know what my girl’s been studying about me.”

“Eggs,” you gasped, cheeks burning in embarrassment but you held his gaze, fingers fisting in his hair. “The texts said... during the heat, with the right partner, you’d...”

His hips stuttered, bucking the tip of his cock against your clit, his eyes going wide for a fraction of a second before they narrowed into something so dark and possessive it made your breath stop.

“Yeah?” he rasped, the word coming out guttural and raw, his grip on your hips tightening until you could feel each finger like a brand. He pulled you down against him, grinding his cock against you with a deliberateness that made you cry out, your hands scrabbling at his chest. “They told you about that too, huh?”

“Told me enough to be curious,” you whispered, biting your lip and rolling your hips into his, matching his rhythm, and the sound he made was barely human, a choked groan that broke in the middle and left his mouth hanging open.

“Curious,” he echoed, and the laugh that followed was breathless and dark, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as his hips snapped up harder, rougher, chasing friction that made you both moan. “My bodyguard read some old books and now she’s curious about taking my eggs. You’re something else, you know that?”

He lifted his head, and the look in his eyes was ravenous, all teeth and heat and a hunger so consuming it made the air feel thin. His hand came up to wrap around your throat, gentle but present, thumb resting against your pulse, and pulled you close until his lips brushed yours with every word.

“Lemme tell you something those books didn’t cover, princess,” he murmured, his voice silk wrapped around a knife’s edge, low and intimate and dripping with a promise that made your thighs clench. “When it happens, and it’s gonna happen tonight because you went and started something you can’t stop... it’s not gonna be gentle. It’s gonna be a lot, and you’ll cry and beg me in that sweet voice to either stop or give you more. Oh, but you’re gonna take all of it for me, aren’t you?”

Your breath left you in a rush, your pulse hammering against his thumb. You enjoyed rough sex with Rafayel, having him leave bruises on your skin that would last for days after your heated love-making was something you looked forward too, knowing he could break you like that any time he desired. But you suspected this was much more different than your usual dynamic, something more primal and animalistic. Something you went ahead and awaken in him with all this stuff you prepared, and you weren’t gonna back down now.

“Yes,” you moaned against his neck, arching your back to brush your nipples against his chest with every movement, loving the friction.

His smile was slow and devastating and sharp enough to cut.

“Such a good, obedient girl,” he purred, and bit down on your bottom lip hard enough to sting. “Now hold on to me. ‘Cause whatever those books told you doesn’t even come close to what I’ll do to you tonight.”

In a swift move, he hauled you with your back to him, prompting you to grip the edge of the bathtub for some sort of stability, bending your back and arching it until it almost hurt, but giving him a gorgeous view of your ass spread open and a peak of your pussy leaking into the lapping water.

He chuckled behind you, a sound rather mocking but sweet at the same time, a purr that traveled down your spine and settled in your throbbing nub.

“She’s so swollen already… tsk. Are you sure you want this, beautiful? Last chance to back out.” he tutted behind you, fingers parting your folds and rubbing between them with enough pressure to have you chase his hands. His voice was so sweet, so innocent and almost tender, but it was far from that, really. You knew as much when he pushed three fingers inside your clenching hole, making you hiss and moan in pleasure and pain. It only made him chuckle and caress your ass as he fucked the fingers in and out of you slowly.

“Very tight, cutie. Not to brag, buuut… if you struggle to even take my fingers, you’ll be a mess when I stuff you with my cocks.” he curled them inside you as he spoke, a smirk present in his whispery tone, a little smug, “… You’ll cry, cutie. But you’re so desperate to be fucked, so I’ll indulge you if you really want it.”

“O-oh, oh fuck, please I do! I do… Feels good, j-just… give me a sec?”

“We have all night, cutie. Don’t think you’ll leave this bathroom until morning.”

The tone of his voice had gone a lot lower, and you only fully registered it when his fingers curled deeper inside you and you forced your eyes open to look back over your shoulder. The breath you took stuttered in your chest and stayed there.

He was beautiful.

Iridescent blue scales had bloomed across his collarbones and the sides of his neck in patterns that looked like jewelry that grew from the skin instead of being placed upon it. They scattered down his chest in a constellation that thinned out across his ribs and disappeared beneath the waterline, and smaller, finer scales decorated the high points of his cheekbones, just under his eyes, catching the bathroom light and refracting it in pearlescent shimmers every time he moved.

His eyes glowed, the blue of his iris turned luminous, like seafoam catching moonlight. His pupils were still blown wide, his lashes still damp with steam, and the flush across his nose and cheekbones had spread to color the tips of his ears in a deep rose.

He smirked at you with lazy confidence while his free hand stroked himself in slow, languid pulls beneath the water, his cock thick and flushed in his grip, and your mouth went dry watching it.

“Oh, you’re so gorgeous,” you breathed, twisting fully to drink him in, and the words came out hushed and tender almost, your fingers itching to touch him all over. “Raf, you're stunning like this.”

His hand stilled on his cock. His jaw worked, just barely, the smirk slipping into something more vulnerable for a half a second before he wrestled it back into place, stroking slowly down his shaft.

“Yeah?” he managed, voice scraped low, and the casual lilt in it didn’t quite cover the way his throat moved when he swallowed. You knew how your praises touched him, and found him cute trying to cover it up, “Don’t get all sappy on me, cutie. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“What reputation?” you teased, reaching back to drag your fingertips along the curve of his jaw, tracing where the scales blurred into skin, and he tilted into your touch despite himself. "The one where you pretend you don’t get needy and hard when I tell you how beatiful you are? I’m not buying it, baby.”

“Oh, you're not buying it,” he echoed, and you watched the smirk sharpen into something dangerous as his fingers slipped out of you in one slow drag that made you whimper. His hand came around to grip your throat from behind, thumb pressing against the corner of your jaw, tipping your head back against his shoulder until you were arched and open and entirely at his mercy. “Lemme refresh you on my reputation real quick, then.”

He hauled you up by your hair.

The motion ripped a gasp from you, sharp and surprised, your knees scrambling to bracket the outside of his thighs in the water. His chest was hot against your back, the scales there warm and faintly sharp beneath your shoulder blades, meanwhile his other hand slid between your bodies, lining himself up before he hauled your hips down with a single, uncompromising pull that drove him into you to the hilt.

The sound that tore out of you was obscene. A broken, drawn-out moan that bounced off the tile, your back bowing as your hands flew back to grip his thighs for any kind of purchase. He didn’t give you a second to adjust.

“There we go,” he purred, the smugness back in full force, his hands settling on your hips to lift you and drag you down again, setting a brutal rhythm that made the water slosh in waves against the edges of the tub and had you clench around him desperately. “That’s the face I wanted. Look at you, all dazed and pretty for me. Where’d that smart mouth go, cutie? Hm?”

“R-right here,” you panted, twisting your head against his shoulder, lips brushing the line of scales along the side of his throat. You opened your mouth and licked, slowly dragging your tongue along the iridescent ridge from his collarbone to his ear. You didn’t read all those books for nothing, right? You had to make the best of your newfound knowledge.

His hips lost their rhythm for a fraction of a second, a strangled noise punching out of his chest, and you felt his whole body shudder beneath you. His cock kept twitching inside you, and you moaned at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he hissed, the word ragged and spit into your ear, his grip on your hair tightened. “Cutie, don’t... shit.”

“Don’t what?” you purred against the wet shimmer of his neck, sealing your lips over a cluster of scales and sucking gently, before scraping your teeth across them. “You don't like it?”

The noise he made was not designed for human ears. A low, almost rumbling moan that vibrated against your tongue, his cock twitching hard inside you, and his head dropped forward against your shoulder for a beat too long.

“I hate you and your little naughty schemes,” he breathed, but his hips snapped up into yours with a force that made you cry out, his teeth finding the side of your neck and biting down hard enough to bruise, a direct reminder of who was in charge. “Such a brat. Reading your little books and figurin’ out exactly where to touch me. Think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

“I think I'm right,” you gasped, reaching back to thread your fingers into his hair, tugging hard as you turned your head until your mouth found the corner of his, peppering small kisses. “Tell me I’m right, baby. Tell me you like it.”

“I’m not telling you shit,” he rasped against your lips, but he was kissing you between every word, sloppy and open-mouthed, his tongue dragging along yours with a hunger that wasn’t subtle. His hand released your hair to wrap around your throat from the front, fingers splaying wide, thumb pressing just beneath your jaw. “Stop talkin’ before I shut you up.”

This back-and-forth was familiar between you already, the push-and-pull that made everything exciting when you gripped and pulled and ravished one another while having sex. You knew how to tick him off, and he knew how to handle you just as easily. Which is why the next words left your mouth in a slow, unhurried purr, one that went straight to his cock and had it twitch in pleasure inside your g-spot.

“Make me.”

His laugh broke against your mouth, breathless and taunting. He kissed you harder, deeper, teeth catching your bottom lip and pulling until it stung and almost drew blood. His free hand slid up your stomach to your chest, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger with a sharpness that made you sob and eyes sting with real tears, your hips bucking down into his with a wet, slick sound that made his next groan come out shaking. You wanted him to fuck you faster, but he controled every move of his hips despite you being above him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he purred against your jaw, dragging his tongue along the spot beneath your ear, knowing it’ll make you shudder and clench around him. “All bark, my cutie. Bratty little thing pretending she can keep up with me while I’m splittin’ her open.”

Your laugh was a broken thing that crumbled into a moan as his fingers rolled your nipple between them without mercy. You twisted in his grip to mouth at the scales along his throat again, sucking harder this time, letting your teeth scrape along the iridescent patterns the way you’d read about.

His whole body locked up. A guttural, choked-off sound spilled from him, his hips stuttering through the rhythm he’d been setting, and you felt his thighs trembling beneath yours. He was so fucking gone, it made you smirk pleased against his scales as you licked again.

“Cutie,” he warned, voice cracked clean through, and his grip on your throat tightened just slightly, the pad of his thumb pressing into your pulse. “I'm gonna lose it comletely if you keep doing that, and I won’t show you any mercy for the rest of the night.”

“But isn’t that the point, my love?” you breathed against the wet shimmering skin, lapping at it with the flat of your tongue, “Won’t you fuck me like you always dreamed of? You always fucked me as your girlfriend, won’t you fuck me as your mate, too?”

You reached one hand back and down between your bodies, finding the place at the base of his spine where the texts said the scales would be most sensitive. You pressed two fingertips there and dragged them up slowly, tracing along the ridge.

He made a sound you’d never heard before.

A low, wrecked whimper that didn’t belong to him, one so unfamiliar that it surprised eve you for a second, a sound so animalistic it had you even more excited to push him more. His forehead crashed forward against the side of your neck as his hips snapped up into yours with a force that knocked the breath out of you.

“You little...” he started, and the rest of it dissolved into a groan that vibrated against your skin, his teeth closing on your shoulder to muffle it. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, dragging you down onto him with rough, fast, uneven thrusts that betrayed how close he was to losing the act entirely. “You read about that too, huh? Knew exactly where to touch me. Knew exactly how to make your boyfriend want to fuck you senseless in a goddamn bathtub.”

“Mm-hm,” you hummed, pressing a slow kiss to the scales beneath his ear before licking a stripe along them. “Wanted to know all of you. Every inch of you needs to be loved, don’t you agree?”

“F-fuck,” he breathed, and he sounded actually gone, his free hand abandoning your breast to slide down between your thighs and find your throbbing clit. His circles were a lot rougher and faster, no rhythm to them whatsoever, and the coil low in your belly snapped tight in seconds. “Yeah? Wanted to know me like this? Wanted to wreck me, baby? Is that what your little research project was about?”

“I wanted to be wrecked by you,” you sighed, turning to catch his mouth in a sloppy, open kiss. He groaned into it, deep and helpless, slothing his tongue with yours in a sensual dance.

“Fuck, you say things like that and I can’t think straight,” he hissed, his pace turning punishing, his hips grinding up into yours with a relentlessness that had your eyes rolling back and vision whitening. His fingers on your clit didn’t slow for a second. “Gonna cum for me, cutie? Gonna cum on my cock ‘cause I told you to?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimpered, your hand still pressed to the scales at the base of his spine, dragging your fingers along them in a slow stroke that made his hips buck violently, hitting your g-spot. “Oh fuck, yes, ‘m gonna cum s-soon…”

“Then do it,” he rasped against your ear,his thumb pressing harder against your throat, his other hand working you faster, sharper, meaner. “C’mon, baby. Show me what a smart girl you are. Cum on my cock and I’ll give you the other one.”

The orgasm tore through you with the kind of speed that left your ears ringing. You cried out loder than ever before, your nails dragging crescents into his thighs as you clenched around him in pulses that made him groan against your neck, his hips stuttering through your aftershocks. He fucked you through it, slower and deeper now, his hand abandoning your clit to wrap around your waist and hold you steady as you shook.

“Ride it, baby. Just like that,” the softness that bled into his voice was sudden and disarming, his lips finding the side of your neck and pressing a kiss there that was almost gentle. He kissed up to your jaw, your cheek, and his hand cupped your face to turn you toward him, his mouth meeting yours in a kiss that was deeper than it needed to be, slower than the rest of him had any right to be.

You knew that kiss. You knew what it meant.

It was Rafayel’s quiet way of asking, the question he never spoke aloud because saying it would mean dropping the act. You okay? You want to keep going? Should I stop?

You smiled against his lips, and the way his shoulders relaxed at it told you he’d been holding his breath without realizing.

You turned in his lap on shaky legs, water sloshing over the rim of the tub, and settled facing him with your thighs draped over his. His cock slipped from you with the motion and you both groaned at the loss, but your eyes had already dropped, drawn down through the water by something new.

There were two now.

The first you knew. The one you’d been wrecked on a moment ago, thick and flushed and slick with you. The second was unfamiliar in the most beautiful way, pressed alongside it against his stomach, marked with faint iridescent ridges that caught the light when you tilted your head. It was the same shade as his scales, that dark blue that seemed to shimmer when he moved, slightly slimmer than the first but no less substantial, the head of it gleaming wetly above the waterline.

Your breath caught in your throat, stunned and mesmerized at the same time.

You reached down with both hands, shaky as you traced one fingertip along the underside of the second cock from base to tip while the other wrapped lightly around the tip. The ridges were softer than scales, almost velvety, and they pulsed warm beneath your touch.

Rafayel hissed harshly, his head dropping back against the rim of the tub with a thud, his hips jerking up into your hands.

“Fuck, cutie...” he choked, voice stripped down to something raw and shaking.

“It’s very beautiful,” you whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to his sternum, dragging your lips along the line of scales that scattered there before working your way lower. “Raf, you’re so beautiful like this. I could look at you forever.”

“You can’t just say things like that so easily while your hands are wrapped around my cock,” he gritted out, but his hands had come up to fist in your hair, like he needed something to anchor him through your touches of his most sensitive, intimate parts.

You kissed lower. Across his ribs, along the soft trail of scales that led down his stomach, and his muscles twitched and flexed beneath your mouth in a way that made his next breath leave him in a stutter.

“Do you like that?” you licked a scale, glancing up at him through your lashes with a smile so sweet it should have come with a warning label. “When I kiss you here? I read it’s sensitive.”

“I’m gonna kill whoever wrote that book,” he groaned, head falling back against the rim again, glowing eyes squeezed shut, throat bared in a line that made your mouth water and ache to kiss again.

“Mm. Should I stop, then?”

“Never said that.”

A please laugh came out, and you bent to press another kiss to his navel, your fingers still tracing the ridges along his second cock with featherlight intent. He twitched in your grip and a broken whine spilled out of him, his hips lifting off the bottom of the tub to chase more.

His hand shot out and grabbed your jaw.

The grip was sudden and harsh, snapping your face up to his, and the glow in his eyes had brightened, the smile on his lips no longer lazy. It was sharp. Predatory. You should have felt in danger under such a gaze, but it only made you wetter.

“You absolute brat,” he purred, his thumb pressed past your lips, dragging across your tongue. You opened your mouth for him on reflex, your eyes hooded and your breath hot against his skin. “Kissing me all sweet, askin’ if I like it, touching me like you’ve got me figured out. You think you’re in charge here, cutie?”

He pushed two fingers into your mouth, replacing the thumb, and pressed them down on your tongue. Your jaw fell open. Drool gathered at the corners of your lips and his eyes tracked it with a hunger that made your thighs clench around his.

“Suck them,” he commanded, low and almost gentle, and you obeyed without thinking, closing your lips around his fingers and laving your tongue along them, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked slowly. The groan he gave you was unsteady, his hips rolling up beneath you, his free hand coming up to grip your waist with a force that would leave fingerprints. “So compliant. Such a filthy little mouth, now stuffed full.”

He pulled his fingers from your mouth slowly, dragging a string of spit with them, and used the wetness to trace a slow, deliberate line down your chin, your throat, your sternum, until he was cupping your jaw again.

“My pretty, perverted girl,” he murmured, and his voice was velvet wrapped around something that made your stomach drop. “Greedy little cunt couldn’t even let me catch my breath before she was already lookin’ at the second one. You really wanna know what a Lemurian mating ritual feels like, hm? You begged for it. Researched for it. Drugged your boyfriend in his own bathtub just to find out.”

His thumb pressed against your bottom lip, and the smile he gave you was sweet and sharp and absolutely ruinous.

“So I’m gonna give it to you, baby. Both of ‘em. Stretchin’ this little cunt out ‘til you forget what it felt like before me. And you’re gonna look at me the whole time, cutie.”

His tongue came out to lick his own bitten lips, eyes dazed and a mile away, probably already imagining the fucked-out expression of your face when he’ll finally slip inside.

“You don’t get to close your eyes. Wanna see your face when I split you open on both, yeah? Wanna watch the second you realize you’ll die without ‘em the second they’re inside you.”

His fingers tightened on your jaw, his glowing eyes burned into yours.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you breathed, the words coming out rough and a bit desperate, tongue still tingling where his fingers had pressed it down. “Show me, Raf.”

His pupils dilated until they nearly swallowed the glow.

“Yeah?” he purred, the smirk spreading across his lips was slow and cocky, all teeth and trouble. “Lemme hear you ask for it properly, cutie. Pretty mouth like yours, oughta beg for what it wants.”

“Please show me,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss the corner of his smirk, mouth dragging slow along his jaw. “Show me how a Lemurian fucks his girl, baby.”

His breath punched out of him. A real, audible exhale that he tried to mask under a chuckle but couldn’t quite, his fingers tightening on the back of your neck.

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” he rasped, and the smirk turned into something wolfish. “Gotta admit it, cutie. You’re gorgeous when you beg me.”

He moved with a speed that left you dizzy.

His hands hooked under your thighs and lifted your body, water cascading off your skin as he stood and pivoted in one fluid motion, settling himself against the slanted back of the tub where the marble curved into something more like a chaise than a wall. The water lapped at his hips and he positioned you straddling him, knees bracketing his thighs, your hands flying to grip his shoulders for balance.

“Hold on tight, beautiful,” he tutted, smirk flickering with anticipation as he reached down between your bodies. One hand wrapped around both cocks, lining them up, the heads pressing together against your entrance. The sight of it made your stomach drop and your mouth go wet, heart beating so fast from the anticipation.

“Raf,” you whined, eyes flicking up to his. You let your voice go small and breathless on purpose, knowing exactly what it would do. “Be nice to me.”

You saw his jaw flex while his other hand slid up your spine to grip the back of your neck, possessive and firm, followed by a smile so sweet and sharp and completely insincere.

“Nice,” he echoed, savoring the word like a piece of candy. “She wants me to be nice. After everything she pulled tonight. C’mon, cutie. You really think you earned nice?”

“Mm. Maybe not,” you admitted, biting your lip. You rolled your hips down just enough to drag the heads of both cocks against your entrance, slick and ready for him. “But you love me, so.”

“I do love you,” he agreed with a hum, voice dropped to something low and lethal that had your toes curl. “That won’t stop me from fucking you like I don’t. After all, you asked for exactly that, yeah?”

He lowered you onto him.

The first inch ripped a gasp from you. The second made you sob. He went slow, agonizingly slow, his hand on your hip controlling every fraction of the descent, and you watched his composure splinter in real time, his lips parting on a stuttered exhale, his glowing eyes fluttering before he forced them back open. He wanted to see your face. You wanted to see his unraveling. Every inch of him was so delicious, not very painful because even like this, he made sure you weren’t uncomfortable. But it soon turned into agonizing pleasure, making your breath shallow.

“Eyes on me,” he rasped, even as his own threatened to roll back. “Don’t you dare close ‘em, cutie. Wanna watch every second of this, paint it later.”

“Don’t close yours either,” you breathed back, tracing your thumb along his bottom lip, holding his gaze even as your thighs shook. “Wanna see how good I make you feel, baby.”

A choked sound left him, and his hips twitched up beneath you involuntarily, sinking both cocks deeper in one rough jolt that made you cry out. He went so deep you saw stars behind your eyelids, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Fuck, shit,” he hissed, jaw clenching tight. His hand was gripping your hip with bruising force, sure to leave purple blooms across the skin. “Stop talkin’ like that, cutie, I swear to god...”

“Or what?” you taunted, smiling against his mouth and went ahead and clenched around him on purpose, just to watch what happens.

His head dropped forward against your collarbone with a wet thud. A low, broken groan rumbled out of his chest, and then his teeth closed on the skin there, biting so hard it made you shake against him.

“Or I’m gonna fuck this attitude right out of you,” he muttered against the bite. “Keep runnin’ your pretty mouth and find out, cutie.”

You eased the rest of the way down, the stretch unbelievable, the burn of it edged with a fullness that pushed every coherent thought out of your skull. By the time you were fully seated against him, hips flush and both cocks buried so deep inside you that your vision went white at the edges, you were both panting like you’d run a marathon.

You knew it took great force for him to keep still and not fuck ruthelessly into you, that thought made your chest ache sweetly. He knew to fuck you like you wanted but he always made sure you remember he still silently sought out your comfort at all times.

“There’s my good girl, welcoming me so nicely,” he breathed, lifting his head to look at you, with a smile that broke across his face in disbelief, fond and absolutely wrecked. “Sittin’ on me and looking so pretty. How’s it feel, hm? Better than your dusty old books told you?”

“There were no b-books,” you panted, finding the strength to smile against his lips, dazed and sincere. “Nothing in this world could’ve prepared me for how you’ll feel, Raf.”

His eye actually rolled back. A full, slow flutter of his lashes, his head tipping back against the marble behind him, and a wrecked groan rumbled out of his throat. He was so easy to dismantle.

“Princess,” he gritted, hips twitching up and pulling a sharp cry from you. “Sometimes you don’t need to be so honest, y’know…”

“Is it wrong for me to admit how I want my boyfriend to fuck me? I thought you wanted us to be honest with one another,” you breathed and leaned forward, dragging your tongue along the line of scales at his throat, sealing your lips over the them and sucking until he sobbed.

His hips snapped up hard. A strangled noise tore out of him, and his hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back to bare your throat. It tingled on your scalp, pain and plasure shooting through you, smiling through lidded eyes.

“You really are askin’ for it tonight, huh?” he growled, his mouth finding the curve of your neck and biting down hard enough to make you yelp. “Touchin’ me like that. Lickin’ my scales like you wanna eat me alive. Where’s all that come from, cutie? Hm? Did your little research project teach you how to drive your boyfriend insane too?”

“Mm,” you hummed, smiling against his ear as he sucked another bruise into your throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His laugh broke against your skin. Breathless. Disbelieving.

“So it’s like that, then.” he purred, and his hips finally moved. A slow drag that pulled both cocks halfway out of you before slamming back in, the water sloshing in waves against the tub. Your eyes rolled back so hard it had you see spots behind your eyelids, “I’m gonna make you regret every smart thing that ever came out of that mouth.”

He set a rhythm that was slow at first but so fucking deep, every thrust pulling you apart and putting you back together, the water sloshing against your skin with each grind. His hands never let go of you, one fisted in your hair, one gripping your hip, guiding and lifting and dropping you onto him like you weighed nothing. You could only let him.

“You’re so compliant,” he cooed, voice gone honeyed and mean. “Stretchin’ so pretty around me. All it took to shut your pretty mouth was filling you up, tsk.”

“Mm, baby,” you moaned, fingers digging into the scales along his shoulders, scraping lightly. “You feel so g-good. S’big. Filling me up so much I can barely breathe...h-hahh…”

His glowing eyes squeezed shut for a beat, his breath shuddering out of him in a broken wave as his pace stuttered.

“Stop bein’ sweet to me while I’m tryin’ to wreck you…” he whined weakly, but his hips snapped up harder.

“Why?” you whispered, leaning down to press your mouth to the cluster of scales over his sternum, kissing along them and sucking gently, dragging your tongue across them. “Don’t you like it when I’m sweet? Or you like it when I tell you exactly how good you are at this?”

A helpless whimper left his mouth, hips losing their rhythm entirely for a moment, and you took the opportunity to slide one hand down between your bodies and press your fingertips against the base of his spine where the scales were thickest, dragging them up slowly along the ridge.

A strangled groan ripped out of him, and his teeth sank into your shoulder so hard you saw stars.

“Cutie…” he started, the rest dissolving into a curse, his hips snapping up into yours with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. “You read about every single sensitive spot I have, didn’t you? Mapped me out like a goddamn treasure hunt.”

“I wanted to learn how to please you,” you breathed against his ear, then closed your teeth around his earlobe and tugged. “Every part of you, Raf. Worship you like you worship me.”

A real, helpless sob escaped him, his head dropping forward against your shoulder while his hips drove into you with a desperate rhythm.

“Stop, stop, stop,” he gritted, even as his hands gripped you tighter, even as his cocks throbbed inside you. “You’re not allowed to say shit like that right now, cutie. I’m tryin’ to be mean to you and you’re makin’ it impossible.”

“So be mean to me,” you challenged, lifting your head to meet his eyes, giving him a seductive smile, “C’mon, Raf. Show me what you got. Tell me what’s gonna happen now, what you’re gonna do to your sweet bride.”

The smile that returned to his lips was slow and sinful.

“Yeah?” he purred, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. “You wanna know what’s gonna happen, cutie? You wanna know what kinda ritual you started?”

“Teach me,” you whispered, kissing the pad of his thumb.

“Lemme paint you a picture, baby,” he breathed, his hips ground up into yours in slow, filthy circles that made your back arch. “Right now? This is just the warmup. I’m gonna fuck you on both my cocks ‘til you’re crying. ‘Til you forget your own name. And then, when you’re so gone you can barely keep your eyes open...”

He paused, tongue dragging along your jaw and smile widening against your skin, making you tremble.

“... that’s when I’m gonna breed you, cutie.”

You clenched around him so hard he choked.

“O-oh, fuck,” he laughed, breathless. “Oh, you liked that, huh? My pretty little hunter likes the sound of bein’ bred. Tell me, baby, did your books cover that part too? Did they tell you what it’s like when a Lemurian fills his lover up?”

“S-Some of it,” you struttered, rolling your hips down to meet his, riding the slow grind of him until you both groaned. “Not enough… they weren’t d-detailed… Mmm, will you tell me?”

“Tell you, hm?” he mused, his hand sliding up from your hip to wrap around your throat, thumb pressing against your jaw. “You sure, cutie? You scared yet? ‘Cause I’d understand if you were.”

“Not scared,” your eyebrows knitted, holding his gaze. “Tell me.”

His smirk turned vicious.

“Eggs, baby,” he rasped, hips snapping up to punctuate the word, mouth hovering over yours. “I’m gonna fill this tight little cunt with my eggs. One after another... Deep... Where you can feel them. Where you’ll feel them for days.”

You moaned, your eyes rolling back and nails scoring down his chest.

“Do you like that?” he cooed, mean and delighted, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “You like the thought of being so full of me you can’t even sit straight? Walkin’ around tomorrow with my eggs inside you, knowin’ I put them there?”

“Y-yes,” you whimpered, and you couldn't help it, you couldn't stop, you ground down on him harder, seeking more friction, seeking what he was telling you he’ll do. “Yes, Raf, please.”

“Such a pervert,” he cooed almost fondly, cupping your face. “My sweet, perverted girl. So curious. So greedy.”

“H-Have you,” you breathed, cupping his face back, holding his glowing eyes with yours, “have you ever thought about it before? Be honest, baby. Ever dreamed about doing this to me?”

Something cracked behind his eyes. Something wild and exposed.

“Cutie,” he warned, voice splintering.

“Don’t avoid it,” you whispered, kissing him softly, dragging your tongue along his bottom lip. “Have you imagined it, Raf? Filling me up? Breeding me? Watching me take all you have to give?”

“Yes,” he hissed, and the word seemed to be torn out of him, his whole body shuddering against yours. “Yeah, more times than I can count. Thought about it every time I came inside you.”

“Then do it,” you whispered against his mouth, kissing him deeper, sloppier, your tongue dragging against his. “Do it. I want it, too.”

His arms wrapped around you and crushed you against him.

His pace turned brutal. Desperate. His hips drove up into you with a ragged, uncontrolled rhythm that made the water slosh over the tub’s edge and onto the floor. His mouth was everywhere, your throat, your jaw, your collarbones, biting and sucking marks into your skin that you would feel for a week, if not more.

“You want it, baby?” he panted against your skin, voice broken open. “You want me to breed you? My greedy lover, asking to be filled up by her boyfriend’s eggs?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babbled, clinging to him, mouthing at every cluster of scales you could reach, dragging your nails down his back. “Please, Raf, please, please.”

“Yeah?” he laughed, breathless, “Gonna take all my eggs for me? Gonna let me stuff this cunt full and then fuck you anyway? Gonna let your boyfriend ride you with his eggs inside, baby?”

“Yes, Raf, yes.” you moaned, eyes rolling back with every hard thrust, almost giving you a headache.

“Tell me how full you’re gonna feel,” he commanded, lifting his head to look at you, glowing eyes locked on yours and thumb pressing against your bottom lip. “Lemme hear it.”

“So f-full,” you whimpered, your tongue laving over the thumb pressing into your mouth. “So full of you, baby.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he purred, mean and tender at once. “So full you won’t be able to think. Won’t be able to walk. Gonna keep my cocks inside you the whole time too, cutie. Gonna fuck you until you pass out on them. And when you wake up, baby? I’m gonna do it all over again.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, clenching around him, your forehead falling against his. “Please, w-wanna cum…”

His hand slid down between your bodies and found your clit, working it in tight, brutal circles, and the third orgasm built fast and sharp and impossibly close. You could feel him changing inside you, the second cock swelling slightly against your walls.

“It’s comin’, cutie,” he warned, voice gone guttural, eyes burning into yours. “Stay with me, baby. Look at me. Don’t you dare look away.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I’m here, Raf, I’m here—”

He pulled you down onto him in one final, deep press, both cocks buried to the hilt, his hands clamped to your hips like he was holding the world together. A pulse, then another, the second cock swelling slightly inside you, a fullness that built and built until you gasped.

Something gave.

A pressure released, and you felt the first one. Small, rounded, smooth, sliding deep inside you, settling somewhere that made your mouth hand open and your spine arch. Then another. And another. Each one drawing a broken, helpless sound from him, each one pulling a high, breathy yes from you, mindless and dazed.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he panted against your throat, his arms wrapped around you so tight you couldn’t breathe. “Take them, baby. Take them all for me. Such a good girl, fuck, you’re shaking so hard…”

“Yesyesyes,” you babbled mindlessly, clinging to him while mouthing nonsense against his ear, tears at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming fullness. “H-hah, ‘m so close… Raf, ‘m so full…”

“I’m gonna fill you up after,” he rasped, his hips still thrusting upwards, his voice cracking around the words. He was as lost as you were. “Gonna come inside you, cutie. Stuff this cunt so full it’ll leak out of you, you hear me? Gonna mark every inch of you mine.”

“Y-yes,” you sobbed, and the third orgasm crested and broke through you in waves that left you crying, your body shaking with it. The fullness inside you a strange and beautiful weight you’d never felt before.

He came with you. A long, broken groan against your neck, his hips pressing up into yours one last time, both cocks pulsing as he spilled into you in waves that felt impossibly warm, impossibly intimate. You felt the slow leak of your shared passion as his cocks twitched through the last aftershocks, his cum spilling out of you around him, joining the water that lapped at your hips.

The only sound was the two of you breathing, foreheads pressed together, hands still clutching skin and scales and hair like neither of you wanted to be the first to let go.

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