Intertidal Zone — You and Rafayel travel together to visit Aridum, and hopefully rekindle his artistic inspiration, but he comes down with a mysterious fever that affects you as well.
cws: afab reader, not beta read at all, consent, explict sexual content, mature language, fluff and smut, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex, vaginal sex, making love, biting kink, possessiveness, mating press, mating, multiple pos, squiring, dom and sub, dry humping, pussy drunk raf, nipple licking, dirty talk, eventual smut, slow burn, whining, groping, pet names, masturbation, needy rafayel, kissing, overstim, teasing, missionary, begging, emotional sex, body worship, praise kink, rough sex, dates, thigh-riding, cunnilingus wc; ~ 16.6k
a/n: yayy noah is back from the dead with my first fic of the year!! i wish that it were a little more original buuut i recently got back into lnds and the first card i got from this event is rafayel's and i loved it so much i had to try and fictionalize it ♡ i've always wanted to fictionalize these cards but it never seemed like a good idea. if it doesn't do well, then I'll never do this again lol. I'd also like to fully credit Infold for the plot of this. It's not mine and I'm not taking credit for it at all. I'm just stretching the intimate scene wayyyy out for fans since they obviously can't show that type of thing due to censorship reasons. I did add a ton to this and kind of try to make it my own but the direct plot belongs to Infold. the smut belongs to me.
available on ao3.
tags: started taglist over. app here.
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The night sky is clear, dotted with stars overhead, though the city lights dim their brilliance. The hum of muted conversations, clinking glasses, and faint music creates a relaxed vibe in the upscale restaurant. The desert’s air is dry and carries subtle warmth, even at night. A mix of potted desert plants—succulents, cacti—adds a touch of local flavor to the design. The table before you and Rafayel are set with crisp white napkins and minimalist glassware. He’s balling up a few napkins in front of him.
He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, and scans the restaurant with an unimpressed gaze. A subtle roll of his eyes as he takes in the menu, sighing audibly. “The last time I was here, they took forever to bring out the appetizers.” He murmurs. “And I guess the chef’s idea of seasoning is to not use any.” You giggle at his soft criticisms and bratty behavior. He’s in a little mood tonight and you can only blame it on the stuffy weather that he isn’t used to.
You smile patiently, flipping through the menu and suggesting dishes, to lighten his mood. He’s probably just getting hungry. “The descriptions are a little pretentious, I’ll give you that. How about the lamb skewers though? They look interesting! We could even order them to-go.” You give him a playful nudge to the shoulder and a bright smile. “Or we can share them. Maybe this time it’ll surprise you.”
He fidgets, tapping his fingers against the table rhythmically. You watch as he grabs a napkin and retrieves a pen from his pocket, beginning to doodle absentmindedly. It reminds you of when some restaurants give children coloring sheets and crayons and have to stop yourself from giggling at the childishness he’s never ashamed of.
You lean over curiously, tilting your head to catch a glimpse. “What are you drawing?” You ask, prompting him to hide his work beneath his large palm. You frown at his secrecy. “It better not be me with a weird nose or something.”
He looks at you at removes his hand so that you can view it, only to find that he’s only scribbling away at the paper. You frown at the lack of art drawn on the cocktail napkin. “Nothing about this place is inspiring, trust me.” He sighs. “But you…” Rafayel smirks and leans forward, resting his chin in his palm. “You’re an exception, cutie.” He leans in so closely that you can smell the wine on his breath.
You look Rafayel in the eyes, obvious that he’s tipsy. “The heat clings… even at night. You think they’d spring for more fans up here.” The heat as been following the both of you since your plane landed.
You brush your hair back, agreeing with a laugh, “It’s like the city doesn’t want to let us forget where we are.” Rafayel’s skin has a faint, warm flush, barely noticeable unless you’re looking closely. He occasionally presses his fingertips against the cool water glass for relief, almost absently.
He’s been unusually quiet, his usual sharp commentary replaced by fleeting smirks and half-hearted quips. You find yourself watching him more than you should, unable to push away the gnawing concern that’s been tugging at you since you arrived. There’s something about the way his movements seem slower, almost languid, as though he’s conserving energy. Rafayel’s skin glows faintly under the restaurant’s warm lights, the flush on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose too persistent to be from the night’s heat alone. Finally, you lean forward, your voice soft but insistent, as though you’re hoping to pull the truth from him gently. “Still feeling off?”
Rafayel’s response is as predictable as it is frustrating, a nonchalant shrug that brushes away your concern like a speck of dust. “You know that it’s nothing,” he says, his tone light but his eyes briefly flickering towards yours before settling on the menu in front of him. His fingers trace the edge of the laminated card, the motion idle. “Just the heat.” he adds, “And maybe this boooring menu.” The way he says it makes it clear he’s deflecting, turning your question into an opportunity for one of his usual complaints.
You lean back in your chair slightly, as you let your head tilt to the side, studying him with a playful edge masking your worry. “Is that the fever talking?” you ask, your tone a blend of teasing and pointed inquiry. You want to reach out and run your fingers through the lavender curls he sports, soothe him in some way but the public setting discourages you.
He grins, leaning in slightly, not daunted by the presence of anyone else in the restaurant. “Possibly. Or maybe it’s just you.” The words linger in the air between the two of you, leaving you unsure if you should laugh, blush, or scold him.
Your phone buzzes as you walk along the rain soaked streets, the drizzle forming delicate patterns on your jacket and dampening its edges where it brushes against your waist. You fish the device out of your pocket, your fingers chilled from the cool evening air, and see Rafayel’s name on the screen. “Good, you’re awake,” his husky voice invades your ears the moment you answer, a playful lilt cutting through the soft patter of rain around you. “I’m facing a creative block that’s as bad as waiting for a volcanic eruption. I really need you now, cutie. You really just have to make some noise on your end. But if-” His words trail off, but the familiar cadence of his voice sparks something warm within you, even as the world around feels cool and subdued.
The steady rain quiets the city, softening its edges into a serene blur. Streetlights cast golden halos in the mist, their glow reflecting off the puddles you carefully step around. An occasional car passes, its tires hissing softly against the wet pavement. You cut him off. “I mean, I’m outside your house right now.” A moment of silence hits before Rafayel scoffs at you and ends the call.
Before he called you, you were already on your way to Mo Art Studio. You know that the artist has been struggling with a lack of inspiration lately and you can’t bear to see him like that, an artist that feels as though he can’t create art. You almost want to blame yourself for not being as available to see him, if his claim that only you inspire him is true.
His studio is tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, its large windows dimly glowing with light from within. You hesitate for a moment outside the door, brushing rain from your jacket and running a hand through your damp hair. Your reflection in the glass looks slightly disheveled, your cheeks flushed from the cool air and exertion. You smile faintly before pushing the door open, the soft chime of the bell announcing your presence.
Rafayel’s voice comes from the center room, usually lined with works in progress but only sports empty and unused canvases at the moment. “Why didn’t you say you were visiting? I didn’t have time to make any preparations.” There’s a pout in his voice. The studio is dimly lit, the single floor lamp casting a warm, golden glow that barely reaches the corners of the room. The air smells of paint and turpentine, mingled with something faintly herbal—Rafayel’s favorite tea, maybe. A suitcase sitting open on the floor catch your eye, its contents spilling out messily: sketchbooks, brushes, and a colorful flier that catches your eye. You notice a few half-finished canvases, their incomplete landscapes and bold colors nearly taunting.
You enter the doorway and find Rafayel lying on the cool marble floors, limbs splayed out in multiple directions like a starfish. He groans when you entire his studio. “Yeah, you look like you’re falling apart without me.” You smile, approaching him and placing your hands on your knees, bending to speak to him.
With another flurry of groans, the artist stands and stretches, his movements unhurried and deliberate. “Something to drink? Tea? Water?”
You shake your head and reach out to brush his shoulder free of any dust. “I’m fine.” You wave a dismissive hand.
He frowns, narrowing his eyes at you as he pouts. “Fine? You’re soaked, and you probably haven’t eaten, Miss Hunter. How am I supposed to paint someone who look like they’re about to collapse?”
You roll your eyes but take the glass of water he offers, muttering, “You’re so dramatic.” The glass is cold against your hand, droplets sliding down the sides as you lift it to your lips.
“How dramatic of you to just waste away before my very eyes like this.” He sasses, watching you drink, his gaze fixed on the way your throat moves as you swallow. His expression is unreadable, a mix of intensity and something softer, but he looks away quickly when you catch him transfixed on you, his face flushing instantly.
You smirk, lowering the glass. “You’re staring.”
The artist scratches the back of his neck, his eyebrows furrowing a bit before he looks back at you. He can’t help but think about how he’d paint you doing the most mundane things. He’d even dedicate every blank canvas in his studio to you drinking a glass of water, at ever angle possible. “You’re mesmerizing.”
You grow just as flustered and look away when he says that. Your attention shifts to the flier peeking out of the suitcase. You pick it up, tilting your head as you read. “‘To celebrate Aridum’s founding…’ Is this a travel ad? Wait, are you planning on leaving Linkon?” You pout the way that he does so often, your tone turning teasing. “Were you really going to sneak off without me?”
Rafayel takes the flier from your hand, shaking it lightly. “It’s not like that. It’s research. Aridum’s anniversary is coming up, and they’re opening the memorial hall for the first time in years. I guess I’ll do anything for inspiration.” His smile softens as he adds, “You really think I’d leave you behind, babe? I couldn’t get away with it. You’d probably track me down, like a true hunter, and drag me back here by my ear.”
You step closer, crossing your arms. “Possibly, but let me read it, or are you going to tell me about it?” You reach out to take the paper from him, eyes scanning what you can see to get more information.
He holds it above your head, smirking as you reach for it. “Where’s the fun in that? You’ll ruin the surprise!” Rafayel lets you hop a few time to take it before he smirks in satisfaction.
You glare up at him as he abuses your height difference, your lips curve into a sly smile. “Fine. But if you’re hiding something, I’ll find out.” You step into him. “And probably make you regret it.”
He leans in so close to you that you can feel his breath on your cheeks. “Then make me regret it, cutie.”
You find yourself dozing off throughout the entire flight, off an on, whereas your artist companion sleeps faithfully. When the plane begins it’s descent into Aridum, he shakes himself awake and you gaze sleepily out of the small porthole. Below lies a sprawling city covered in golden-yellow sand, stretching endlessly. Despite having never been here before, something about the scene feels oddly familiar, evoking a sense of déjà vu. Next to you, Rafayel seems at ease, almost confident, as if this landscape is second nature to him. He reassures you with a glance, silently inviting you to follow his lead as you disembark.
Rafayel expertly navigates the streets of Aridum, despite only visiting this settlement one other time before. He leads you to the hotel with assured stride. The lobby is a masterpiece of understated luxury: dimly lit, with polished floors reflecting the glow of overhead chandeliers. In the center, lies a quaint fountain with a mermaid spouting a small stream of purely translucent water. Glossy marble pillars and exquisite art pieces line the walls, creating an air of timeless elegance. You can’t help but wonder if Rafayel could ever create something like them. Rafayel handles the check-in process smoothly, his voice carrying an effortless charm as he speaks with the hotel staff. Meanwhile, you take in the surroundings, noting the quiet opulence of the space and how it contrasts the rugged desert just outside. “This way,” He speaks, handing you a keycard and leading you down a few halls.
In your room, you unpack slowly, admiring the luxurious accommodations. The plush bedding, the ornate furniture, and the small details—like fresh flowers on the table with small dew drops falling from each petal—add to the room’s charm. In the middle of admiring it all, you pause. You wonder why Rafayel booked separate rooms. Is it because he values privacy? You thought that the point of you coming along was so that the two of you could spend more time alone. Maybe he didn’t want to be presumptuous. Or perhaps it’s something else entirely.
You spend a few moments unpacking your bag and making yourself comfortable then make your way next door. You lift your hand to knock on his door when a polite attendant greets you, explaining that a letter is addressed to Rafayel’s room but lists your room number. You take a look at the sealed envelope with it’s golden edges and agree to sign for it. As you turn to knock on his door again, the attendant adds a thoughtful warning: “There might be might be snow in the northern desert over the next few nights. If you plan to camp out, bring warm clothes.”
Surprised, you ask, “Snow in the desert?” He nods with a smile, explaining that it’s almost an annual occurrence. You think for a moment and nod, grazing your knuckle against his door and entering when you hear him call out. Inside, Rafayel emerges from the bathroom, his appearance striking in the dim light. Water droplets cling to his hair and roll down his exposed chest as he adjusts his shirt, the buttons undone, revealing flushed skin from the lingering heat. You avert your gaze, flustered at the sight, and set the letter down on a nearby table.
“There’s a letter for you,” you say, voice faltering slightly. “I think they got the room number wrong.” He gestures for you to come in fully, extending his hand with a calm yet inviting expression. The room feels intimate, illuminated only by the faint yellow glow of the bathroom. A warm, humid mist from his shower lingers in the air.
Rafayel opens the letter with casual interest while sipping from a nearly empty glass of water. He reads it aloud, lowly mumbling with an air of disinterest. “Oh, my friend—a local— left tickets to the memorial hall and an invitation to small art salon thing he’s hosting.”
At that, your curiosity piques. “A memorial hall and an art salon… Aridum might be a city of sand, but it has its romantic side. You know, an attendant just warned be about potential snow tonight. Have you ever seen anything like that?”
Rafayel sighs, dropping the paper back down. He smiles slightly. “Extreme temperatures swing in the desert and snowfall isn’t uncommon during winter nights.”
Your gaze drifts to the floor-to-ceiling window, where the desert skyline stretches endlessly and the evening draws on. You direct your attention to the scene he’s created in his room. Scattered across the floor are sheets of drawing paper, pens, and an open can of soda. You pick up one of the fallen sheets. “Were you drawing earlier?” You ask, your tone curious.
The artist sighs, running a hand through his damp lavender hair. “Was trying, but… I can’t. If you know what I mean.” His voice is soft, tinged with fleeting uncertainty, as if momentarily lost in thought.
You reflect on Rafayel’s creative block and the pressure he feels as an artist. He’s been working so hard and how this trip could provide solace and inspiration, how he needed space to unblock himself. “Rafayel… don’t push yourself. You should rest for now. Forget about the drawing. Take it easy and enjoy the scenery.”
He looks at you but then quickly back towards the darkening landscape that his room showcases. It’s vast and wind picks up traces of sand to carry and scatter wherever it sees fit. “I used to really enjoy scenic spots before.” He licks his jutting bottom lip as he contemplates each of his words. “Catching sight of those subtle sights that may be easily overlooked gives me a greater sense of satisfaction that completing a painting. But now… Sometimes, I forget why I even decided to travel in the first place.”
Rafayel’s voice is raw and tender, as if the push of each word up the narrow canal of his throat causes significant pain but he forces himself to shoulder the unpleasant confessions. He speaks as if he’s punishing himself and it breaks your heart to hear a, once effortless talent, struggle through a creative block like this. You wish that there was something you could do to wipe the turmoil from the surface of his heart.
Once again, he lets out a frustrated sigh. The scenery of this city was enough at one point but not this time. He gazes out the window, unable to process being blocked like this. “To create a piece of art, I must transform my feelings about nature into a demand…” The beauty of Aridum contrasts the harsh uniform aesthetic of Linkon but he’s still struggling with it. Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s rushing it. “I’m afraid of such a purpose,” he admits, revealing this fear of reducing his art to a mere task rather than an expression of genuine emotion.
Your gaze falls over his form, studying the way that his outline bathes in soft moonlight, and your figure is tenderly submerged in the depth of his gaze. He blinks slowly before turning to you again and he crawls a short distance to whisper to you. “If… if one day become someone who only takes from you…” Rafayel hiccups between words. “If.. I were like that, would you leave me?”
Night has fallen over Aridum. His fingers are three centimeters away from you. He’s not sure why he’s asking you this, why he’s baring it all. He wants to blame it on the fever. He wants to blame it on the creative block. He wants to blame his lapse in character, his sudden weakness, on the neediness that he’s always ebbing off. It’s all because of you though.
“You silly fishie… I won’t leave you.” You smile warmly. Your hand moves across the floor, brushes against his fingers, and gently holds the. “Besides, you’re not someone who only takes.”
He grumbles at your words, face flushing into a deeper shade of red. You cradle his face in your hands and move it from left to right, as if you’re attempting to shake the insecurity from his body manually. “You’re feeling a little anxious. That’s probably why you’re overthinking things.”
Rafayel doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes your hand and kisses your palm. “You’re playing tricks, right?” Your smile never falters, even when he lets his eyes flutter shut and shakes his head no.
He breathes heavily as the fever eases it’s way into each cell of his body, takes over his thoughts, turns his body into a furnace. “Thank you for… accepting me the way that I am.” He leans in, and the water from his hair onto your ear. Amidst the scent of his shower get, you feel the heat of his skin.
Warm lips brush against the side of your neck, the sensation barely noticeable. “Rafayel..” You whisper. He takes your hand and leaves a trail of kisses, starting from your fingertips. He doesn’t even care if he has a fever. His hands, propped against the ground behind you, now wrap around your waist, turning you towards him. “You’re burning up again.” You squeal, bracing your hands on his bare chest, feeling exactly how feverish his skin has become.
He looks you in the eyes and leans in, aiming his lips towards yours. The can toppling over interrupts your kiss before it even happen and you stop. His entire body feels hot and his skin is dry, yet his eyes appear as if they are caught in the rainy season. Rafayel sighs in frustration. He backs off. “As you said, I’m anxious… Well, more like restless.”
He frowns and loosens his collar a bit. “Ever since I arrived here, I feel… The air feels like it’s burning, like there’s enough moisture anywhere. My heart is racing and I feel so miserable.”
The notion of him suffering through misery for anything at all is enough to worry you. You cup his cheeks once again. “Let me take you to—”
He interrupts you with his gaze. A complex mix of emotions is in his eyes, hiding something akin to obsession. “I’m not going anywhere.” He speaks definitively, unable to bear being too far away from you for any amount of time. The fever doesn’t matter. “I’m just… restless. In every sense of the word.” He presses his forehead against yours and presses his palms against the cool floor, caging your body in with his strong arms. “Especially when you’re by my side.”
His voice is so desperate, nothing at all like how he usually is. It’s so begging, so vulnerable, so… perfect. “Rafayel…” And his gaze is so intense as it burns right through you and devours ever bit of you trembling form beneath him. He looks at you with such a hunger, as if he couldn’t care less about the drawing, as if all he wants is to take you here and now. You try to look away when it becomes too much but he cups your cheek and makes you look at him.
“But if I can’t let you go… What should I do?” He begs you, oceanic eyes tearing you apart. His cheeks flush bright crimson. “… And… and you don’t want me to let you go either. Right?” A single tear falls from his right eye and splashes onto the fabric of your dress. His breath warms your cheeks and he pushes your faces even closer together, nuzzling against you like a kitten.
Despite being so tightly pressed against each other, you nod with sincerity. Rafayel climbs over you, blanketing his body with yours and you can tell that he’s trying to find his self-control but it’s a losing battle. Rafayel breathes into you deeply, inhales your scent. “But this trip still has a few more days left. If you don’t get better… I’m worried.”
He slowly pulls back his hand from your face, and his fingertips linger on your cheeks. “I do enjoy this kind of concern…” He doesn’t continue speaking. Instead, he closes his eyes and breaths heavily on your neck as if he’s trying to consume every piece of you accessible to him. As time passes, second by precious second, he presses his chest against yours, feeling your breasts against his unclothed chests. You catch him curse under his breath at the feeling. When he parts his lips again, Rafayel’s voice has dropped an octave and becomes even more strained. “You see, cutie… You already made my life a beautiful, chaotic, mess…”
The memorial hall is crowded yet quiet. Hushed conversations take place all around. After a few days, Rafayel’s condition seems to have improved so you both decide to continue with your plan and visit the memorial hall. The two of you walk a bit aimlessly, taking in the exhibits and keeping to yourselves until Rafayel speaks up next to you. “Aridum means drought, you know? It’s built in a desert, where the land is vast and the rain is rare.”
You hum in response. Before you, a whale fossil, several meters long, is in a glass display located in the center of the hall. No matter how sharp it’s teeth look, or how spikes line its back, it is now forever silent. “This fossil was found in the desert.” He reads the small silver plague beneath it, studying each word, soaking in the facts that he’ll surely derive inspiration from soon.
“So,” You walk in step with him. “Aridum used to be an ocean and then turned into a desert?” You can’t help but notice how heavy Rafayel’s gaze is when it reflects in the glass, as if he’s watched the ocean for an eternity.
He shakes his head, drumming two fingers against his temple in agitation. “It takes a long time for an ocean to turn into a desert. Back then, this whale’s ancestors still roamed the land. They had yet to completely lose their legs.” Rafayel’s finger leave his head and traces slowly along the streamlined skeleton of the whale on the glass display case. “They long to return to the sea, yet the ocean has evaporated in the sands of time.”
He looks disappointed, which hurts you just as well. Rafayel is usually good about hiding his feelings about the ocean receding and, while sometimes you wish he’d be more open about what’s hurting him, you’re still not used to it. It’s unexpected. “Well… Maybe the ocean hasn’t completely vanished yet. When we walked in, I saw a poster that introduced a special painting they had. We should check it out!” You walk with Rafayel to the innermost part of the memorial hall. His gaze falls on it in the moment he sees it. The painting covers and entire wall. One half is an expanse of yellow desert while the other is a deep blue ocean. “Do you think the artist really saw this ocean?”
For the first time, Rafayel looks at you. Sad misty eyes greet yours. Your heart breaks a little. He tries to keep his voice steady when he speaks up again. “It was still around the last time I was here. Now, I’m not so sure.” Rafayel juts his bottom lip out once more.
You tilt your head and take his hand in yours, providing a smile. “Do you wanna take a look?”
The morning sun climbs into the sky, casting a golden glow over the edge of the city where the desert begins. The stark contrast between the bustling city streets and the endless expanse of dunes feels surreal, like stepping into another world entirely. Your mission is simple yet thrilling: to find the sea depicted in the mysterious painting that has captivated both your heart as well as the artist’s. The sand stretches out endlessly before you, an ocean of gold rippling under the sun’s gaze, broken only by the occasional wind-blown crest.
The moment the vehicle hits the dunes, Rafayel’s reaction is immediate and visceral. The jostling of the ride sends him gripping the grab handle with a vice-like intensity, his knuckles pale against the soft leather.
Rafayel sits stiffly in the passenger seat of the rugged off-road vehicle, his recently composed demeanor giving way to a look of a more… characteristic alarm. “Whoa there! Slow down! Slow down—” Rafayel shouts in near-terror. To find the sea depicted in the painting, the two of you arrive at the edge of the city and venture into the desert the next morning.
You can’t help but laugh at his over-the-top reaction, the sound of his distress and reliable theatrics only fueling your amusement. “We’re already going very slow, and the wavy dunes are making this ride bumpy. Hang on, we’ll be there any moment now.” You grin, gripping the wheel. You glance at him briefly, a teasing grin on your face. The sunlight streams through the windshield, catching the gleam of determination in your eyes as your hands confidently grip the wheel.
Your reassurance does nothing to calm him. Rafayel’s expression tightens further as the vehicle hits another bump, causing him to lurch forward slightly despite the seat belt holding him in place. He doesn’t sound comforted by your words in the slightest though. “Why is your driving as terrifying as your rowing skills?!” His voice is a mix of exasperation and genuine disbelief, and his usual fabricated grace is nowhere to be found.
The grin on your face widens as you press your foot lightly on the accelerator, just enough to keep the momentum steady over the shifting sands. The sensation of driving over the dunes is exhilarating, like navigating waves on a golden sea. You draw out your voice and shout—“Because I’m driving a desert off-roader!” The wheels carve tracks in the desert sand, leaving a whirlwind of yellow dust behind you. As you crest a sand dune, a sight suddenly materializes before the two of you. Below the dunes, an expanse of azure water comes into view.
As you crest one particularly tall dune, the horizon shifts, and the faint glimmer of what could only be water catches your eye. “Rafayel… Look, there really is an ocean!” You point excitedly, momentarily taking one hand off the wheel, and Rafayel immediately reaches over to steady it, his reflexes quick despite his evident nerves.
Next to you, your companion is silent, save for a few nauseated murmurs. “Are you okay, Rafayel? I didn’t expect you to get carsick! You already get seasick.” You slow the off-roader a bit and reach out a tentative hand to him. As you approach the shimmering pool, the vehicle slows to a complete stop. He takes the opportunity to dramatically eject his body, as if you were driving far beyond an acceptable speed.
“Since you don’t like walking, what are you going to do?” Rafayel places a hand on his chest, bends over, and coughs. You stand behind him and quickly smooth is back.
“Having you drive is a lot scarier than riding a roller coaster…” He huffs, standing to cross his arms over his chest and settle himself. “Okay, I’m ready.” Rafayel straightens his posture, takes your hand, and leads you down the dune. The shore itself is calm, with no ripples on the water’s surface.
Even though you’re close to this body of water, you can’t sense anything at all. “It’s very quiet. I thought there would at least be some fish or maybe a few desert creatures…”
He hums in response. “It’s the last surviving piece from the ocean’s degradation, but it will soon disappear too. The water is quite shallow now, and the temperature isn’t low enough. Animals can’t live in there.” Silent, Rafayel looks into the distance. In your view, his figure merges with the distant hills of gravel and becomes one with them. “But, as long as I stand here, I can feel it. The sound of this sea… has become feeble.”
You fix your gaze on him, trying to gauge his true feelings. “If the transformation from ocean to land is an irreversible, natural process of evolution… Then we can see it another way. It’s a surprise to see a place like this in the desert, right?” Comforting words can’t match the power of a hug. Maybe you should just tightly hold him. How can you be everything that he needs you to be so that he becomes whole again? So that he can paint once again?
All you want in the world is to be there for him, the way that he is for you. You’ve never had to do anything like this before though. Being someone’s muse, their very reason for creating art, is so new to you and you want to do it right. You want to be enough. You want to save Rafayel.
You feel a tentative hand on your bare shoulder. “What sorta thoughts are running through your head? You should be hugging me instead.” You look at him, allowing your eyes to gaze straight into his shimmering ones. In a moment of hesitation, Rafayel closes the gap between you two by embracing you, his warm breath falling onto your skin. He whispers as he draws you in and hugs your body close. “I happened to overhear the locals talking about this place last time I was in Aridum.” He wraps his hands securely around your waist and doesn’t show any signs of letting you go. In response, you wrap your arms around his neck and let your eyes flutter shut. “Back then, I thought that if there was a place in this world where dunes meet the ocean, I have to see it. Even the locals couldn’t guarantee they’d be able to find it, but I was lucky.”
In the heat of your embrace, his heartbeat seems to quicken in a very short period of time. “You’re right this place is like a delightful surprise in the middle of the desert. At that time I felt I would like to come here with the person who is the most important to me. Someone that was my oasis.” Rafayel sighs into the skin of your neck as he embraces you, thinking for a moment that you’re his bright blue oasis, a wealth of natural water meant to save someone who’s dying of thirst.
You open your eyes for a moment, squinting over his shoulder to get another look at the lifeless pond, that isn’t any comparison to the painting the two of you viewed at the memorial hall last night. It’s beautiful but… is it enough for him? You sigh out a whisper. “Did this wish of yours come true?” All you want in the world is to hear that he’s found what he’s been searching for.
Rafayel slightly loosens his grip and lowers his head to press his forehead against yours. You ghosts his lips over your own and breathes in deeply, sighing in relief as well. He feels like someone’s taken a huge weight off of his chest and he can finally breathe comfortably again. He opens his eyes, holding your chin up to implore you to meet his soft expression and view the maelstrom of emotions circling within the oceanic depths. “What do you think?”
As it turns, the weather report from the hotel staff was accurate. Snow starts to fall as you’re on your way back to Aridum. Snowflakes formed from water vapor gently cascade, blanketing the golden desert that was searing with natural heat only hours ago. Rafayel drives the off-roader through the rolling dunes. It bobs up and down like a small boat in waves. You slowly fell asleep in the passenger seat. When you woke up the car was already parked in a corner of the garden by the hotel lobby. “Rafayel…” You whimper, cozy in the seat next to him.
He looks at you, his eyes shining bright even in the darkness. “Yeah?” He leans in close to you, examining how cute your face is when you’re only just waking up.
You slowly fell asleep in the passenger seat. When you woke up the car was already parked in a corner of the garden by the hotel lobby. Night has fallen over the lot and greets your eyes when you crack them open. You sit up and rub at your forehead. “How long was I asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Rafayel reaches up and uses his thumb to wipe a stray eyelash from your cheek and blows it away. “Well, you were sleeping so well, cutie. I didn’t want to disturb you.” He leans in and tucks a loose stand of your hair behind your ear. He goes in for a half-hug, warm breath brushing against the corner of your mouth. Your own breath hitches and you have to hold yourself back from just leaning in and claiming his lips yourself. He’s trying so hard to have some self-control when it comes to you. The kiss doesn’t arrive as you’d hoped again, leaving you wanting.
When you speak again, your voice is a shy whisper. “Rafayel?” His body temperature is rising, and the air in the car has seemingly thinned out because of him. A wave of dizziness washes over you. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears and can nearly feel his own beat radiating from his fevered body, speeding up with every passing second and hitting you in waves.
You can tell that he wants it, wants to feel you in more ways than the innocent touches he’s allowed himself. After a moment, a gentle touch lands on your cheek. “… Do you wanna go back to your room first?”
Disappointment replaces anything you were feeling before. Rafayel is usually so easy to read. It’s always so easy to know what he wants and what he’ll do next. Why is he holding back so much? You’re heading back to Linkon in a day and nothings happened between the two of you yet. “You’re not coming with me?” You don’t mean for your voice to come out so desperate. He takes out the invitation that came with the ticked and looks slightly conflicted. “I still have to attend my friend’s salon thing.”
You reach up to brush his bangs from his face, feeling the slight perspiration beginning to form again. “But you don’t look well. You need to rest.” You can’t hide your worry from him. He shakes his head, causing the soft locks to fall from your fingers and back into his eyes. He pauses when you hold him back, and the next moment, he pulls you into his arms. “Wait, you’re burning up again.”
He sighs and provides a slight smile, as if to thank you for being so worried about him. “Cutie…” He whispers.
You shake your head and sit up, leaning into him once more. “Or maybe we can go together?” You feel yourself growing desperate because he seems hellbent on not taking care of himself, on sacrificing his health for the sake of his art. And you almost understand that. You can respect him having a passion that he’s concerned with losing but you wish this brat would be more responsible.
He looks at you, looks you in the eyes and searches your blown irises for all of the worry you’re holding in your body. Rafayel sighs and looks away, his cheeks turning pink at your affection. “Do you wanna turn me into a sea creature that’s beached on the sand after the ocean recedes…” He mutters. “And leave me to suffocate when I come out of the water?” His whispers caress your ears, while his warm breath seeps into your skin. All of a sudden, the depths of your heart become infinitely soft, as if it’s being held by a hand that once wielded a paintbrush. “Don’t you trust me? How about we make a promise? I promise… I’ll be okay without you tonight.”
Knowing how stubborn this fishie can be, you decide to comply. Rafayel gently pushes you away and leans back into the driver’s seat. He lets out an almost inaudible sigh. “You can head back. Really. I can handle it.” Those words should reassure you, calm the storming worry that you’ve been feeling for Rafayel lately but, for some reason, you don’t want him to be so okay without you.
You return to your room with your key card, but the dizziness Rafayel caused remains. It’s snowing outside… It’s probably getting even colder. You think that you should’ve insisted on accompanying him but maybe you can pick up later. He’ll at least let you do that. You don’t pay too much attention to the bedroom, consumed with your parental level of worry for him but you notice that snow has already accumulated on the window sill.
You grab a fluffy towel from your room, left out neatly by the hotel staff. Hot water washes away the stickiness from your body, and Rafayel’s stifled breathes still echo in your ears even with the constant splashes from the faucet that you stand under. Every memory of him, when he’s so close to you, envelopes you along with the steam in the bathroom. The warmth from his fingertips lingers in places where he touched you and when you touch yourself, you almost feel as if it’s his hands on your body instead of your own. The fever that Rafayel has let waft from his body and onto yours consumes you in a slow flame as it slowly burns you up. You moan into your hand, worried about neighboring guests of the hotel being able to hear the embarrassing sounds you let out.
Shamelessly, you let your shivering fingertips rub your slippery folds, underneath the steaming shower spray. “Rafayel…” You moan, slipping two fingers inside of yourself. You use your free hand to grope at your own chest, pinching your nipple and twisting it to elicit shock waves along your body. In order to keep yourself upright, you squish one of your cheeks against the glossy tile of the shower wall.
You use your thumb to rub tight circles on your clit, causing your pleasure to spike. Your thoughts are only of Rafayel, only of how much you wish he were in this shower with you, toying with your body or watching you pleasure yourself. You’re reduced to nothing but whines as you work open your messy cunt, relieving yourself for the first time in days. His name is on your lips again as you gasp it out, turning to press your forehead against the tile instead, imagining that it’s him instead of the cold wall. “Please…”
It feels wrong, or at least pathetic, begging for the imaginary version of him to touch you as you finger-fuck your own pussy in the hotel shower. You just can’t help it though. You’re so frustrated waiting for him to make a move on you and it’s so bad that you cum quickly, faster than you have in a long time. You don’t even have time to stifle the moan that comes out of your mouth when your squirt drips from you onto porcelain.
It gets difficult to differentiate the tears falling from your swollen eyelids and the shower spray falling over your head. When you come down, you wipe it all away and watch as the milky substance circles the drain. You swallow and get out, drying your hair as you walk out of the bathroom. You throw a nightgown over your head but, before you have a chance to throw your body onto the bed and rub a few more frustrated orgasms out, you hear a few subtle movements in the living room through the door.
The bedroom door cracks open before your companion enters without warning. “Huh? Rafayel? What are you doing here?” He doesn’t answer at first, taking a couple of short strides from your bedroom door to close the distance between your bodies. He’s wordless and determined and you stare into his eyes as he closes in on you. “Wait-” Rafayel places his hands on your waist before pulling your body flush against his.
Finally, he kisses you deeply. Finally. After wanting to feel his lips overtake yours for so long, he gives it to you. You’ve needed to feel this electricity from Rafayel so much that, for a minute, all you can think to do is let him, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours. You shut your eyes as you kiss him back and only come to your senses when you feel the vibration of his own pleasured moaning make its way up his throat and reverberate against your mouth. Without thinking, you bite his bottom lip slightly, prompting him to pull back and look at you with an intense, questioning, gaze.
You gasp each struggled breath back into your lungs. “Why are you here?” You whisper, clutching the crimson fabric of his loose shirt.
Rafayel doesn’t break eye contact with you. “This is my room… You’re the one who walked in here.” He says this matter-of-factually, as if you’re supposed to take responsibility for pushing him, for shattering his self-control and restraint. It’s an honest accident but you don’t mind taking credit for it.
You shake your head and brace your hands against his chest but not daring to push him away. “What I meant was… Shouldn’t you be at the art salon?”
“I’ve changed my mind. Stay with me—I’m not going anywhere,” He rushes the words out in a single desperate gasp. “I know what you need… I need it too.” He pulls your body flush against his and moans into your ear again. “You can feel it, right? I can. I can feel it, smell it on you. Heard it all.” Rafayel holds your hand and pushes you so that your back falls flush against the duvet. He pins you down to the bed and crawls over you, caging you in. He kisses your neck but pulls back with an annoyed look on his face when the phone on his bedside table rings. A quick look at the large screen show that it’s the hotel’s reception desk. “Tch.”
“Wait.” Your voice is soft but firm, stopping him just as his hand hovers over the phone, ready to decline the call. The faint glow of the screen illuminates his sharp features in the dim room, and for a moment, the tension between you feels like a thread pulled taut. You stop him without thinking of it. It’s probably his friend wondering where he is, if he’s still attending the event but what if it isn’t? “You’re just going to hang up? What if something important comes up?”
Rafayel looks you in the eye. His larger hand closes around your wrist even tightly, as if to reiterate his declaration that he isn’t going anywhere tonight. He glances down at you, his brows knitting slightly in question. “I’ve already told you.” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with finality. His gaze shifts, darkening as it locks onto yours. Slowly, deliberately, his larger hand closes around your wrist, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. His grip tightens—not in a way that hurts, but in a way that feels grounding, possessive. Before you can respond, he declines the call without so much as a second glance, the faint beep of the disconnected line cutting through the stillness.
Your lips curve into a smile, the boldness of his action sparking something electric in your chest. You shift beneath him, the friction of your bodies sending a ripple of warmth through you. With a fluid motion, you turn the both of you over, his body sinking into the mattress beneath yours. He whispers about how much of a minx you can be when you’re in the mood and you trail kisses along his ear, your mouth finding the flushed curve of his lobe. You take it between your teeth gently, nibbling, and the reaction is immediate. You feel your panties growing damp at how responsive Rafayel is.
His breath hitches, a sharp inhale that he can’t quite suppress. His hands, which had been resting lightly on your hips, tighten their grip, pulling you closer and beginning to hump you against him slightly, causing a pleasurable friction. Between the two of you, you can feel Rafayel’s fever returning. It hits you in waves and makes your head swim as if you were drunk off him or something. You moan at the sensation and his breath audibly sharpens, and inhale that he can’t bring himself to suppress. Rafayel lets his knee rise up off the bed, slotting it between your legs. His hands, which had been resting lightly on your hips, tighten their grip, pulling you closer.
“Oh.” You whimper when you feel his knee press flush against your core. A bit of your wetness seeps into the fabric of his slacks. You feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric separating you, and the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat seems to echo your own. “Oh… fuck.” You stutter out, feeling your hips begin to move on their own.
“Careful,” he warns, his voice hoarse and strained, though the corners of his lips twitch with a ghost of a smile. When you look down at Rafayel, beneath you, his skin is completely blushed and bright red as if his fever is at it’s apex.
You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers brushing through the soft strands of his wavy hair. His eyes are heavy-lidded, pupils dark and wide, and the way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing that exists in the world—sends a shiver down your spine. “Careful?” you echo, your voice soft but teasing. “You don’t seem like you want me to be careful.” You lean in and bite his earlobe once more, a penalty. And you notice how hard he’s growing from the contact. You quirk an eyebrow up at him. “And you’re not being very careful yourself? Don’t you think this is going too far?”
His lips part as if to respond, but whatever he was about to say is lost as you lean in again, the connection between you deepening in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Night falls over the bedroom, casting your desperate bodies in shadows of light as the moon rises triumphantly over the desert. Rafayel couldn’t let you go even if his life depended on it. Not now. Not tonight.
“You’re on-one to talk,” His voice cracks and he looks up at you, a finger ghosting over the curve of your face. “Are you not going to admit what you did in my shower just a few minutes ago?” Rafayel cracks a smile at you.
Before you get a chance to think of a response and, as if to spite the two of you, his bracelet grows and a voice emanates from it. You assume it’s his friend, inquiring about his whereabouts upon noticing his absence from the art salon. He doesn’t answer or decline right away.
That’s when you notice it. Rafayel isn’t paying attention to the bracelet. The mark of his Evol is glowing bright on his chest, etched into his skin. It burns him and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in to lave your tongue over the marking. Rafayel’s body is producing so much heat and his self-control is burning up, evaporating, leaving his body completely. He uses his strength to cage your body beneath his again, taking the control. “Are you… sure about this?”
You nod underneath the man, finding it difficult to breathe as well. “Otherwise, you’ll actually go back…” He shakes his head as if to dispel your worrisome though. You whisper once again, “What will you say id you’re asked why you didn’t answer the call?”
He doesn’t seem to care about his image or anything right now and just provides a rush answer as he unhooks the bracelet from around his wrist and throws it aside to be fully forgotten about. “I’m busy.” Rafayel leans back into you and kisses you deeply, fully, keeping you in place underneath him. His fingers entwine with yours. “That’s what I’ll say.” He shakes his head.
You feel him against your leg, even in the confines of his tight pants, growing harder and harder by the second. His arousal is a tangible object at this point. The heat that his body is producing suffocates you and you love it. “This… is different from some of the mating rituals that I’m used to… or that I’ve ever heard of.” He lets his hand make it’s way along your bare thigh, traveling from your calf to the apex of your thigh, the slight crook of your pelvic bone. “But if you’re the one causing this fever, then I can’t deny it anymore. And neither can you, since we’re both clearly… in heat.”
Rafayel tightly embraces you, his assertive warmth permeating where your bodies touch. Dazed, your souls intertwine as you’re surrounded by a scorching hot desert and trapped in a sea that’s about to dry up. “I’m so thirsty…” Rafayel’s fingers, calloused from years of painting, glide along your waist. You tremble and remain silent. “Are you comfortable?” A droplet of sweat rolls down from his hair to his cheek.
You reach up to wipe it away and you gaze absentmindedly over his shoulder, looking outside, where the snow falls like cascading sand. “Rafayel… It’s actually snowing in the desert.” Above you, he doesn’t respond right away. He only reaches to undo the back lace of the dress you threw on before he arrived. Snowflakes fall just outside of the wall-sized window. You gasp as he pulls the fabric down to expose your braless chest and panties as slowly as he can manage with his patience wearing thin.
He doesn’t turn to look at the phenomenon you’re seeing. Instead, he lets his eyes rake over your body, the fever steering his every action and word now. “Yeah. It’s so soft… and beautiful.” Rafayel says this while starring down at your exposed body, not sparing a fraction of his attention to the snow. His fingers gently graze the corner of your eye. A soft sharpness seeps into you bit by bit, then it digs into you like a dagger.
The sound of Rafayel’s breath against your neck is overtaking and it’s all that you can hear at the moment. It’s warm and you can hardly breathe. It gets you dizzy, so much so that you hardly notice him pulling your panties down your legs but you’re just aware enough to bend your knees to help him fully remove them until you’re naked, skin slick from the shower spray, before his eyes. “You’re so cute, I could eat you right up.” His voice is husky in your ear and he presses his forehead against the side of your face.
Rafayel’s hands come up to rest on your thighs, slowly separating your legs enough for him to slot his waist between them. He presses the growing tent in his pants against your slowly leaking core. “You’re precious.” He whispers, sitting up on his forearms to look you in the eyes. “Well, are you gonna let me, cutie?”
You sigh as your stomach does flips, Rafayel’s hands all over your body making you shiver. “Rafayel,” You reach up to hold his cheek. “Let you… let you?” You nod before you give yourself a chance to question him. A tuft of purple hair enters your vision when he leans down to kiss you on the nose quickly and tucks his head down to trail kisses along the column of your jaw, your chest. When his lips make contact with each of your nipples, first your right then your left, they harden beneath his mouth and he doesn’t miss the way you shiver because of it.
He kisses down your body and leaves his hands over your breasts, kneeding the soft warm flesh as his lips make their way across your tummy. He hums when he leaves a kiss on your pelvic bone before landing his lips on your inner thigh. You jolt at the feeling but he doesn’t provide any time to recover before he places another kiss directly against your core. “Mmph!” You moan at the sudden contact, once again trying to stifle yourself for the sake of the hotel’s other guests that are surely sleeping at this hour. You card your fingers in his lilac streaks, which is all that he need to confirm that you’re okay with him taking this all a step farther.
Rafayel sticks his tongue out to wetten his lips further and laves the appendage across your heated core. He savors your taste, savors your moan, the way you pull his hair by the roots to bring him in closer to you. Your thighs tremble as he laps at your essence, humming in satisfaction. “Raf..ayel…” You moan once again when he begins to suckle at your blossoming rosebud. His hands roam the expanse of your heaving chest, occasionally tweaking at your nipples to get you to jump slightly with each pull.
He eats you out with an earned expertise, knowing your body better than anyone else, better than yourself. Rafayel breathes heavily against you and he can’t push his tongue past your tight ring of muscle fast enough, swallowing each thread of arousal that seeps out of you as your cunt opens up for him. His eyes roll back when it lands on his tongue, sticks to his teeth, rolls right down his throat to rest in the pit of his stomach. He can never get enough. You pull at his hair and urge him to continue, your thighs locking his head in place and your legs shaking, balls of your feet kicking against the fluffy duvet when you feel your body temperature rising to scorching levels.
You suck in harsh breath one after the other until the immediate air around you is filled with only what you’re able to push out. Rafayel moans against you when he begins rutting his hardness against the mattress. His tongue fucks a sticky puddle out of you for his sharp chin to lie in as he spreads himself out flat on the bed. You moan curses into the air, your body curling around his, not letting him go anywhere. “Rafayel, there.. right there.” You praise through a bead of drool rolling down your soft chin. It takes no time for your skin to go clammy with sweat when the pleasure overwhelms you and leaves you a pathetic writhing mess at the artist’s mercy. “Mo-more.” Each word is shaky, no less a signal to Rafayel that he’s doing well.
He licks at your leaking pearl, drawing your squirt out like nectar from a piece of ripe fruit, a taste that he’s craved over the last few days but dared to deny himself for your comfort. And when he lets his gaze flow up to get a good look at your expression, Rafayel finds the prettiest vision he’s ever seen in his life. Your eyebrows are raised practically to your hairline and you’re sweating, being worked open by his tongue like this, face a pure picture of ecstasy, mouth shaped like an O as you lift your hips and work yourself into a well-deserved orgasm while using his hard facial features like he’s a sex toy designed just for you.
You bloom right against his mouth, petals of your womanhood coming to fruition as you gush out, juiced like a golden nectarine. His oasis. Exactly what he’s been searching for. All that he needs. He milks you. Like his life depends on it Rafayel milks your body for each and every drop and it feels like you’ve been swimming in the center of the sun with the way his ministrations light your body aflame. The release is so good, so good that you might get addicted.
Above you, he tears his red satin shirt from his body and tosses it to the bedroom floor. He feels a possessive urge crash over him like a tidal wave throwing his limp body against a slick mountainside. He’s so hot. And you’re so fucking hot too. He only wants you and he hopes that it’s mutual. Can hardly tell through the haze of hormones coursing in his bloodstream.
Rafayel gracelessly yanks his trousers down his legs and lets gravity assist him in abandoning them at the foot of the bed, completely forgotten. He pulls you, by your legs, down until your pelvis is meeting his, genitals flush against each other. He’s aching for you and you’re dewy, covered in your own juices and his saliva. The sticky mess between you is so hot and humid that the scent that’s produced when the both of you mix is the only scent filling the entire room.
Days after you’ve both checked out of this hotel, staff and future guests will still smell the two of you. He’s sure of it. “Can’t get enough of you, darling. My cute girl. You’re so addictive. Look at what you’re doing to me, what you’ve been doing to me this entire time. Feel it.” He thrusts the side of his thick cock flush against your core to punctuate his demands. His words are desperate, begging for you to understand the way that he feels about you and he leans down to lock your lips together and speaks breathlessly when he reels his head back. “And taste what I do to you.” He rasps, drawing his face back with a pussy-drunk smile as he watches you lap your own cum from your lips.
He cups your cheek and gives himself a moment, a long one, to savor this before it all changes. He savors the hunger in your eyes, the wild minx that he draws out of you with this fever. Rafayel savors the way you feel pressed against his cock, the ardent pulses coming out of you every with every split second that passes. He wishes he had an IV bag full of whatever chemical you’re getting his brain to produce right now so that he could pump his body full of it at his own whim. You’re a maddening creature.
He slightly hovers over your naked body, watches you writhe in need for him in the hotel room bed and his muscular torso shines. His hooded eyes drink in every curve and contour of your form in the dim lighting - the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips. Rafayel’s own large, thick cock juts out obscenely from his body, rock hard and leaking arousal. He wraps a large hand around his throbbing shaft, squeezing here and there and stroking in a desperate, frenzied rhythm. He imagines your mouth on him, pictures the bottom lip you nibble on stretched wide to accept his cock into your pretty mouth. His breathing comes out in hot, ragged pants as he loses himself in the exquisite sight and scent of your nude body splayed out before him. The aroma of your mixed arousal permeates the air.
Rafayel’s hand moves impossibly faster, more urgently over his aching cock as he stares at you with lust-glazed eyes. He’s so hard, it’s painful and he’s wound up tighter than a bowstring and ready to snap. His hips buck and jerk, fucking into his own fist as he teeters on the razor’s edge of ecstasy. All for you. All of him is only for you. He wants you to know that and he almost finds the resolve to say it but he cuts himself off with a strangled groan. He throws his head back as his orgasm crashes over him like a wave. Thick ropes of hot, sticky cum erupt from his pulsing cock, painting your stomach and tits with his release. “Fuh.. fuck.” Rafayel sobs. “Fuck me, baby.” His body shudders and twitches through the intense, toe-curling climax.
He can barely hold himself upright to avoid collapsing on top of you and his chest heaves. His skin is flushed. Rafayel huffs as he holds himself up on his forearms, his stomach grazing yours and making his skin go just as sticky as he’s made yours. He looks at you through the haze of his own orgasm, heavy breathing filling all of your airspace.
And he commits you all to his memory to splay each detail on a virgin canvas at a later time. “Huh.. huh…” Rafayel knits his eyebrows together in concentration as he eases his sobbing tip past the initial ring of muscle that meets him, tight and resistant. He has to work you open again and he can’t help but throw his head back to groan. Your lover’s big palms tighten on the sides of your face as he eases inside of you with as much control as he can. And it isn’t much. You’ve got his hips stuttering pathetically.
Rafayel hovers above you, his hips nestled between your thighs like he’s finally found his way home. He sticks to his plan of taking it slow but his body can’t handle having you beneath him like this, chest heaving with pleasure, expression giving away how pent up you are. His cock is throbbing, leaking pre at your puckered entrance as he feeds you the same inch and slowly draw back.
“Rafayel…” You reach up to hold his face as well. “What’s the matter?” He wonders if you can read his mind. Can you tell that he doesn’t want this to be over? Do you feel the same way? You must. Each time he pushes his throbbing tip in, you clench around him impossibly tight and rip another harsh gasp from his chest. His body is slick with sweat and a bead rolls from his temple down to splash between the valley of your breasts.
He nudges against your entrance once more, daring himself to full sheath himself inside of you in one fluid motion but doesn’t think he’d last if he were as hasty as that. “Just want to… like,” He licks his lips nervously and leans his forehead against yours, condensation mixing together. When Rafayel speaks again, his mouth mumbles against yours, lips trembling with hesitation. “Live in this moment forever. Before it has to end.”
Through the haze, you manage a giggle. “I know the feeling.” You pull his face until your eyes are meeting. He lets you. “Take as long as you need.” Your voice carries, full of compassion and understanding. And how did he get so lucky to have the privilege of making love to you? What did he do to deserve it? What did he do right?
Rafayel looks down at your face, watching your expression intently. He never wants to forget a single detail of you. He wants to burn this image into his brain forever. He leans down and buries his face in the crook of your neck, a slight sob breaking free from his throat. “I’m being a crybaby, I’m sorry.”
Another giggle sounds through the room and this time you wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re not.” He doesn’t miss the slight tears in your eyes either but still feels like he’s being over-emotional. It’s not like he’s a virgin. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from. It’s just the effect you have on him. Rafayel inhales deeply, breathing in your natural scene as he places hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. A hand comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your face towards him as he claims your mouth in another kiss, letting his tongue delve into your warm cavern. A mix of every fluid that was ever in his meeting his taste buds as he ventures into yours.
His pulsing tip rests inside of you and he doesn’t move, too afraid that he’ll cum instantly if he does. Rafayel takes a stuttering breath. He pants harshly. His hips flex by accident, causing the swollen head of his cock to push forward and catch on your rim. He’s gasps and almost topples over, his larger body crushing yours, but he composes himself. “Fuck, baby,” He pulls in harsh breaths. He’s trying. He’s trying so fucking hard to hold back, to not just slam forward and take what he needs from your body, fuck all of his love deep into you at a ruthless animalistic pace, like an untrained beast. “I need you so badly. You feel so good.” Rafayel’s voice cracks, a low rumble seeping with lust.
He rocks forward again, feeling your bodies start to merge. The sensation of you stretching around his thickness makes his balls tighten uncomfortably and his heart pounds frantically. His eyes flick up to your face, searching, hungry. He’s finally savoring this, even as his own desperation claws it’s way out of him in an attempt to burrow itself in your body instead. He pulls back slowly, until just the tip remains inside, before slowly pushing forward once more. He sets a deliberate, sensual pace, even as his body screams at him to take you harder, faster, to claim and ruin, to be ruthless and flush you full of his seed. His animal instincts are nearly too strong. It’s almost humiliating.
Your eyes rake over Rafayel’s beautiful body, pale and fit like a sculpture. The faint muscles form a sheen of sweat to glisten under the dim lamp light illuminating the hotel room. He gazes down at you with hooded, lust-filled eyes, dark and displaying every desires he’s ever had for you, yet also brimming with a tender affection that he could never fully hide or deny. His thumb gently strokes the soft skin of your cheek and moans into the crook of your neck. “I’m so in love with you, it’s tearing me apart.” He whimpers against you.
You run your hands along Rafayel’s back, feeling the muscles flex under your touch as he shivers. His body is so sensitive right now—every bit of him is. “It shouldn’t hurt,” You whisper, feeling his body heat begin to fully consume you.
He lets out a stuttering gasp. “But it does!” He raises his voice slightly, the little outburst causing his hips to jolt a little further until he’s unconsciously feeding you another inch of his flushed cock. He moans loudly at the feeling, his chest rumbling with the vibrations. Rafayel pulls back just slightly to look into your eyes, features softening further. “Does it… feel that way for you too?”
His eyes are begging, as begging as they’ve been this entire time and you wish you knew exactly what he needed, what he’s searching for in you. “Please… my princess…” He murmurs. “I just want to be good for you, you’re ah-all I want.” He gasps.
You kiss his temple and across his forehead, locking your legs around his waist and inviting him further inside of you but he resists. You look him in the eyes when you speak again. “Rafayel… I’m not going anywhere either. Okay? So… ” Your lips tremble. “Ki-Kiss me again.” You whisper, cupping his cheeks.
He breathes heavily and takes your lips again, as if he’s yours to demand, to own. He groans into your mouth desperately as if he’s trying to climb into your mouth and you drive him so delirious with little to no effort. He starts to move, hips rolling like calm blue waves, a sensual rhythm. He gasps as he takes it slowly, not overwhelming himself and focusing on pleasuring you. He breathes so deeply against your neck. “So in love with you..” He cries.
Soon, he’s fully seated inside of your tightness and his thrusts become measured, deep, working to ensure he hits that special spot inside you with each desperate push forward. Rafayel’s eyes never leave your face, watching your every little reaction, gauging your pleasure. It’s all he can do to be sure that he’s exactly what you need from him before he collapses from the ecstasy and has to slot his face into the crook of your neck again. “Fuck..” He sobs. “I love feeling you like this, like a velvet heaven wrapped perfectly around me. I can’t get enough.” He breathes the declaration out in a singular breath, as if he’s worried he won’t be able to say it all quickly enough.
His touches are gentle and, soon, they don’t match the way the rest of his body moves. His thrusts start off gentle and hesitant but soon they grow and become erratic. His hands roam your curves, caressing and squeezing. He’s taking his time, focused on maximizing your pleasure, his own raging lust tempered by the desire to cherish you. A desire so strong that it overtakes every single muscle in his body.
Rafayel continues his slow, sensual movements, his frame envelopes your smaller one. He leans in to press open-mouthed kisses along your neck, feeling you shudder beneath him. His tongue laves over the jumping pulse beneath your skin, giving it a teasing flick before suckling gently at you. A means to distract himself from cumming quickly again. One of is hands slides down the curve of your side, fingers splaying possessively over the dip of your waist. He pulls your thigh up, encouraging you to wrap your leg around his hip. “Need more.. more of you. Baby,” This new angle lets him sink even deeper, and you both groan at the fresh sensation. “I just love you so much.” He breathes against your skin.
He rolls his his in a slow grind, rutting against you, letting you feel every thick inch he has to offer. Starbursts bloom behind your eyelids as you squeeze your eyes shut, the feeling of his dick dragging against your walls slowly like this sending an overflow of pleasure up and down every nerve in your body until you can’t think of anything besides him. Rafayel’s hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb flicking the stiff peak softly. He ducks his head to draw it into his mouth and suckle at the sensitive bud, looking into your hooded eyes to take in your reactiveness.
When his movements start to pick up speed, his hips start to piston faster, driven by instinct and need alone. He mates you in the only way that he knows how, as lovingly as possible. He loves you. He says that over and over again, moaning it into your chest as he fucks you hard. There’s a beat between each of Rafayel’s thrusts before he pushes in with all the force in his body. Your leg trembles as it drapes off his waist. He wants you lost in pleasure before he lets himself fully succumb. “Tell me how you feel, cu-cutie,” he murmurs between each kiss and nibble. “Wanna hear you… want to know I’m doing this right.”
“Mhmm,” You whimper beneath Rafayel. You can barely get the words out, so lost in the sensations, in the pleasure he’s fucking into you. The heat between your bodies is so much to work through. And the intimacy and tenderness in his words and actions continue as you lose yourself in the thickness of passion. His touches become bolder, more demanding, as he gives in to his hunger for you. The desire that he’s been fighting to ebb away consumes him fully and he takes the frustration out on your lip body.
It takes minimal effort for Rafayel to reach down and pull your legs up to your ears, essentially bending you nearly in half. In his desperate frenzy, he folds you into a ruthless mating press and it affords him the chance to penetrate you even deeper. Rafayel stares down at you, your form contorted and his body looming over your vulnerable, exposed one. He fucks you faster than he did before, hips slamming against the back of your thighs with each powerful thrust. The new angle and leverage lets him plumb depths that makes your brain foggy, your inner walls clenching desperately around his plunging cock.
Your mind is awash with waves of sensation, pleasure sparking and crackling through every nerve ending. Each driving thrust punches the air from your lungs and sends bolts of ecstasy shooting up your spine. You’ve never felt so utterly filled, so completely consumed by the intensity of your union with him. Tears of overwhelming bliss prick the corners of your eyes as Rafayel’s fervent lovemaking pushes you closer and closer to the edge. He fucks you like he’s been possessed by something else, something otherworldly, something hellbent on beating your cunt in until it’s fully claimed by him, reserved for him and no one else.
Obscene wet sounds fill the room as he pounds into your joined flesh, the slick slide of skin on skin punctuated by the rhythmic slap of your bodies meeting. He leans down, his chest pressed against your heaving breasts, his hot breath wafting over your ear. “Fuck!” He curses into the air. “Squeezing me so tightly like you never want to let me go, never want to let me out. It feels so goooood.” His moan is drawn out and needy. His hand snakes between your sweat-slicked bodies to find the swollen, throbbing pearl at the apex of your sopping wet sex. He rubs it in firm circles, applying just the right amount of pressure to push you both closer to the brink.
“Not gonna last much longer like this. Need you to cum, princess.” He gulps on his own saliva. “Wanna feel you come and give yourself to me. Let me feel it.” He sobs above you. The veins in his arms bulge under his skin as he pumps himself. His hips drive into you faster, as if they’re demanding this out of you themselves and the force of his thrusts become more urgent and powerful. The bed creaks and shakes beneath you, the headboard slamming repeatedly as he takes you with wild abandon. Rafayel wishes that he had fucked you into this damned mattress every single night of this trip.
You moan his name as he buries his face back into your neck and laves his tongue over your skin, licking the sweat off and tasting the salty flavor. He licks you all over until you’re covered more in his saliva and his cum than anything else. Rafayel bites down on you and relishes your soft gasp. “Can’t stop,” He declares, fucking you within an inch of your life, absolutely no patience in his body anymore. “Fuck, I can’t stop!” His hips move frantically and he grits his words out between clenched teeth, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his impending release. “And I’m so close. I can taste it all. It’s so sweet.”
One hand tangles in your hair, gripping it by the root as he pulls your head back, exposing the column of your throat even further, the crown of your head sinking deeply against the pillow beneath your head. His other hand holds your legs up against your chest to keep access to the deepest parts of your cunt. “Give it to me, cutie. Come on. Come onnn.” He whines into the air.
The mating press affords him the ability to rock his body into yours with increasing urgency as he chases the rapidly approaching climax. Your mind is awhirl, your thoughts tumbling and tangling as the intense pleasure builds to a fever pitch. Each deep, powerful thrust of Rafayel’s hips sends bolts of electric pleasure shooting through your nerves, coiling the spring of your desire tighter and tighter. Your inner walls clench and flutter around the thick, hard—and nearly punishing—length plundering your most intimate depths, growing hotter and tighter as your peak fast approaches.
Every ridge, every vein, every single throbbing inch of Rafayel’s length stretches and fills you so utterly well. Like he was made for you and you were made for him as well. Breath comes in short, sharp gasps from your mouth, your chest heaving as you struggle to draw air. Beads of sweat dot your brow, your skin flushed and glowing with the heat of their coupling. Your heart pounds a staccato rhythm against your ribs, matching the relentless pounding of Rafayel’s hips against your own. As the pressure builds to an unbearable crescendo, your mind starts to go blank, thoughts scattering like leaves in a gale. All you can focus on is the incredible sensation of his moving inside you, the way he’s touching something so deep and primal that it steals your breath away. Every time he pokes his tongue out to lick you, you gasp and shudder.
You’ve never felt anything like this before, never known pleasure so intense that it borders on pain. It’s almost too much, too overwhelming… but still you crave more, still you arch into his powerful thrusts, silently begging for that final, blissful push. Your body starts to tremble, muscles quivering and jumping beneath your skin as your orgasm rises up to claim her. Rafayel doesn’t let up, doesn’t even consider giving you a break or a moment to catch your breath. You’re right on the brink, on the edge of a cliff with an angry storming sea just beneath you and he’s positively aching to push you over the edge. You’re on the razor’s edge of rapture. One more thrust, one more touch, and you’ll shatter completely in Rafayel’s arms.
Your thighs begin to quake, your sex starting to spasm and clench wildly around the thick cock splitting you open. Your toes curl, fingers digging into the back of Rafayel’s neck as you cling to him for dear life, needing his strength to anchor yourself as your world shatters. “I’m close, I’m close, I’m soooo fucking close.” Rafayel watches your eyes widen as your head rolls back against the pillow, an intense wave of our climax crashes over you. A raw scream tears from your throat, echoing off the walls of your bedroom. “Oh god, oh fuck Raf! I’m cumming!” You sob the words out through your own drool and your body convulses and jerks violently, back arching so sharply that only your shoulders and the back of your head remain on the bed.
Pride washes over the man as he watches you cum so brainlessly for him. Every muscle seizes, tendons standing out like guitar strings as ecstasy rips through you. Your pussy’s walls clamp down on Rafayel’s pistoning cock like a silken vise, the walls rippling and undulating as they milk him for all he’s worth. Gush after gush of liquid heat floods out around his plunging length, drenching his balls and thighs. “Rafayel… Rafayel… Rafayel…” You wail mindlessly, voice breaking and cracking. Tears of sheer pleasure rip through your blinded eyes, dripping off your chin to splatter on more of your naked skin. Through the haze of overstimulation, you manage to speak. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop! I’m… I’m…!”
Your tongue lolls out, droll leaking from the corner of your slack mouth. Your toes curl so hard that your feet cramp, arches lifting high in the air. Your legs tremble against your own chest and Rafayel kisses your neck through it all. He can tell that the pleasure is intense, so all-consuming, that it borders on agony. You’ve never wanted to feel pain so much in your life. “Fill me, please! I need it all. Want it-” You swallow harshly. “Want it to overflow inside!” Your nails dig into Rafayel’s flesh and you hear him hiss at the sharp pain but he doesn’t slow down. The sound of him pounding into your squelching hole fills his senses. His wet skin smack obscenely against your own dewy skin.
Your hips buck and jerk wildly, trying to meet his increasingly frenzied thrusts. The wet, obscene slap of flesh on flesh fills the room, punctuated by your moans and his grunts of effort. He whimpers into your skin and bites down on your collarbone to steel himself. You swear you can feel every pulse and throb of his thick cock as it swells even larger inside you, stretching you impossibly wide. Your body is wracked with the force of your climax, shaking and shuddering as the sheer, mind-numbing bliss of it crashes over you again and again. “Lo.. Love you so much.” You cry for him, babbling like an idiot for him.
Rafayel hilts himself deep inside your spasming cunt, his dick throbbing and pulsing as your velvety walls massage him, sucking him dry like your life depends on it. He throws his head back as he drives into you with a roar of pure masculine satisfaction, a guttural cry tearing from his throat. “I love you too, so much baby. You feel so perfect, ungh..” Rafayel grunts and pants each word out, only able to hope that he’s making sense to you right now because he sure as hell can’t tell. His voice is strained with the effort, the brutal workout, of fucking you to death in the pit of this hotel room bed. He grinds his pelvis against yours, his heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass as he ruts into you.
As he continues to pound into your cunt, the intense sensations quickly build you back up to another peak. Your body is a live wire, so responsive, every nerve ending singing with pleasure, ever muscle quivering and taut.
Your lover leans down to take your lips once again, moaning into your mouth, his tongue delving deep to claim you as many ways as he can. He swallows your wanton moans and cries that come a few seconds apart, drinking in the sweet taste of your lust and desire. His hands roam your body greedily, squeezing and caressing every dip and curve, stoking the flames of your arousal higher and hotter. He changes the angle of his thrusts, finding that perfect spot deep inside of you that forces your breaths to come tumbling out with each well-aimed thrust. Your inner walls clench and ripple around him, drawing him in deeper, silently begging for more even when you’re not sure that you can handle much more.
You’re drowning in sensation, a maelstrom of pleasure and need and an all-consuming hunger. Your mind is a mess. A hurricane. An unbelievable storm as the pressure builds to an unbearable crescendo within you. You’ve never known a feeling like this before, never imagined an ecstasy this profound and overwhelming. “Raf!” You gasp, wailing against his mouth, voice muffled and broken. Your hips burn as you buck and jerk wildly beneath him, meeting his increasingly ragged thrusts with desperate, graceless abandon. You find yourself chasing another climax, craving that sweet, shattering release with every fiber of your being. “Can’t believe I’m cumming again..” You sob, eyes rolling back your head as your body starts to seize again. Your arousal drips down his shaft and balls.
He does his job of waiting for you to shatter in his arms once more. Panting harshly, he redoubles his efforts, hips slamming into yours with a force that rocks the bed frame. Sweat drips down his chest and back, his muscular arms trembling with the strain of taking you like an animal. “That’s okay baby. Cum for me again.” He whines.
As if he’s commanded your body, you release again, all over his pelvis. The slick cum makes him groan as it sticks to his skin and you finish with his name on your lips. He can feel the telltale tightening in his heavy balls, the little tingle that shoots up his spine heralding his impending release.
The room is thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat and the bedspread is soaked completely through. The air is heavy with the weight of pleasure. His body is coiled tight, every muscle taut and trembling with the strain. He slams into you one last time, his body going rigid as his orgasm crashes over him like a rainstorm. A whimper tears through his throat as he hilts himself deep inside of you, cock pulsing angrily as it unleashes a torrent of hot, thick seed and floods your clutching depths.
It’s all that he’s wanted for so long, for days, for longer than he can even calculate or put into words. “Baby, yes. Yes..” He cries, voice cracking and breaking as he rides out the pleasure wracking his body. His hips jerk, spurting wave after wave of his essence into you. Tears stream down his face as he pumps you full of the cum you’ve earned. And he clings to you like a drowning man to a buoy or a life preserver, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave welts on your abused skin. “S-so good… so fucking good,” he babbles mindlessly, burying his face in your sweat slick neck. “I can’t believe you. You’re so perfect.”
Rafayel’s body is wracked with aftershocks, little jolts of pleasure sparkling through him as the last vestiges of his release ebb away. He pants harshly, trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving against your own damp torso. Eventually, he finds the ability to lift his head to gaze down at you with adoring eyes. A satisfied smirk tugs at the corners of his kiss-swollen lips, even as he whimpers softly at the lingering sensitivity of his spent cock still buried deep inside of you with no plans of retreating.
“My perfect girl,” he murmurs voice low and rough from exertion. He leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips. He makes no move to pull out, content to stay hilted inside the welcoming heat of your body. He provides a cock drunk smile as he lets his body fall onto yours and nuzzles into your neck, breathing every bit of you in, basking in the afterglow. A soft, almost whiny little noise escapes him as he savors the feeling of your slick, intimate embrace.
Rafayel rolls over, pulling you along with him until you’re both lying on your sides, his muscular arms wrapping around you and still not pulling his softening cock out. He gathers you into his arms, holding you close as he tries to catch his breath. His heart pounds against his ribcage, his chest heaving with each ragged inhale. A sheen of sweat covers his skin, making his faint muscles gleam under the lamplight.
He turns to face you, colorful eyes roaming over your face with a look of pure adoration. He reaches out to tuck a stand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on the delicate curve of your cheek. A soft, almost drunken sound escapes his lips as he leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. He pulls you even closer, until your bodies are alighted from chest to toes, not a sliver of space between you. His hand slides down your hip, squeezing the soft flesh possessively as he nestles your curves against him. A contented sigh escapes him at the sheer rightness of this moment, of holding you in his arms like this after fucking you so well.
He lets out a frustrated exhale soon. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he starts to harden again inside of you, his spent cock twitching and stirring back to life with a mind of it’s own. He groans softly, his hips giving a minute, unconscious flex against yours. He buries his face back into your neck, his favorite place to be, breathing in the scent the two of you have created together, already craving more. Rafayel’s hands roam your body with a life of their own, caressing every dip and curve like he’s committing it to memory. He feels demanding and insatiable, hungry for every inch of you. He knows he should let you rest, but he can’t seem to stop touching you, tasting you, claiming you all over again.
He pulls you in close, wrapping his strong arms around you in an embrace. He holds you possessively, one hand splaying across your lower back while the other winds into your hair, cradling your head gently against his chest. His hips press against yours, ensure he remains where he wants to be; nestled deep inside your warm, tight heat as his cum stays plugged deep inside of you. Rafayel leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he begins to whisper to you, his voice low and full of emotion. “Been wanting you since we got here and now I can’t remember why I was holding back, wasting time. I don’t know anymore. Guess it doesn’t matter.”
His fingers trace soothing circles on the small of your back, his touch soft and loving. His hips give gentle rolls against yours, a sweet, intimate gesture of connection rather than a demand for more. He’s savoring this moment so that he never forgets it if it never comes again. You whimper at the feeling of overstimulation clinging to your tired muscles, having been worked so hard by him. He tips your chin up with a gentle finger, gazing into your eyes with a fierce, burning intensity. Rafayel’s expression is raw and open, stripped bare of all pretense and hesitation. In this moment, his love and desire for you are plain for you to see.
He seals his declaration with a soft, slow kiss, his lips moving tenderly against yours. He pours all of his love and adoration into the brush of your mouths, trying to convey the depth of his feelings for you. He’s in love with you, totally and completely and he just wants to hold you forever, worship you, make you feel the extent of his feelings.
Your eyes flutter open and then shut again after a few minutes but when you open them again, you gaze out the wall-seized window next to the bed. You sigh as you take in the weather. Yellow sand as far as the eye can see is covered by snow. You see the same ocean that Rafayel has where his heart should be. You finally feel exactly what he wanted you to feel.
In your heart, the two of you approach the sea beyond the dunes despite the bumpiness of the ride to get there. Ripples travel along the water’s surface. Finally, you’re both swept into that endless blue. This isn’t the abyss. Rather, it’s a place filled with red flame lilies. This is Rafayel’s color. And it’s a feeling that holds more weight to it than anything else. It feels more familiar than it should. You sigh next to him. “Rafayel… I want to hear you sing.” You whisper, a silent confession. You always have and you make this request as you cuddle into his chest, your naked bodies stuck to each other like glue.
“What song do you have in mind?” He opens his eyes and looks down at you as you shake your head, no titles coming to mind.
You smile at him. “Lemuria must have it’s own love songs.” He chuckles, remembering love songs, some that you could only inspire. His slightly cool fingers comb through your damp hair as he half-holds you, leaning against the headboard and humming what you recognize to be exactly what you asked fore. A Lemurian love song.
His voice is slightly hoarse, yet it remains clear. It’s like the moonlight that’s streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling window. Your eyes are half-closed as you watch the snowflakes drift under the moonlight. Enveloped in that Lemurian song, you drift into slumber. Enveloped in that Lemurian song from… all that time ago, you drift into a sleep of raining memories.
You slowly open your eyes, adjusting to the soft light of morning. You reach out next to you in search of Rafayel’s body heat only to find him sitting on the carpet by the bed. He leans back casually, his hand wrapped gently around yours. His presence is calm and grounding, and for a moment, the quiet intimacy of the scene makes you forget the world outside. “Why are you sitting there?” you ask softly, your voice softly, your voice still heavy with sleep.
Rafayel’s gaze meets yours, gentle and warm, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I woke up early. I wanted to draw something, buuut I also didn’t want to wake you.” His tone carries a playful lilt, but there’s a trace of something more serious beneath it.
Before you can respond, he releases your hand and shifts, lying down beside you. His arms circle around you, pulling you into the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Your temperature still hasn’t gone down,” you murmur, your voice tinged with concern.
You sigh, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I know,” he admits, the words settling between you like a shared secret. A beat passes before he continues, his voice quieter now. “Actually, I was here last time for an exhibit, and I found myself in the same situation. As far as I know, this is the longest time my mind’s been like a blank sheet of paper.”
You tilt your head slightly, curiosity flickering in your eyes. You reach up to hold his face in your hand and draw him nearer. “You mean you still can’t draw?”
Instead of answering immediately, he reaches over to open the drawer, pulling out a promotional flier. You recognize it instantly—the one you’d seen before but hadn’t been able to examine closely. “Then… the painting at the exhibit, the one of the desert and the ocean…” you begin, voice soft with realization. “It’s yours?”
He lets out a soft sigh. “Ours now, I suppose. Since we’re the only one’s who could find it. Well, more like you were the only one that could find it and I was the only one that could paint it.” A shadow of vulnerability crosses his face as he looks at you “You know, I once stubbornly believed that only pain could bring me inspiration. I traveled far and wide in search of it… pain that inspires me, I mean. Like a sea that’s about to dry up.” His voice is heavy with a quiet sorrow that twists at your heart. Rafayel is like a dagger.
You hold onto him tighter, placing your hand gently over his chest. His gaze flickers to yours, his pause stretching into something profound. “The art of creation is a part of my life,” he says, his voice steady but filled with an ache. “You made me realize that love and are are so alike. More alike than I could’ve ever known without meeting you. Even if they don’t complete me but burn me instead…. I still want them with every fiber of my being.”
As he speaks, you think of Rafayel by the seaside. Only now does it become clear—your disappointment back then hadn’t been for yourself, but for the deep loneliness you sensed within him. You whisper, voice trembling with emotion, “I don’t like that, Rafayel. You’ll never have to burn for me.” Reaching out, you take his hand in yours again, holding him with a silent promise.
Rafayel shakes his head and lets his gaze fall elsewhere, pretending to be memorized by the air particles fluttering in front of him. When he looks back at you, his expression bares every emotion you manage to pull out of his heart. “Will you accompany me to seek those other parts in life,” he asks, his voice low and searching, “Whatever lies outside of pain?”
You meet his eyes, unwavering. “I’ll always be the one who walks along the shore with you. If it can snow in the desert, then there will be a day when the ocean returns.”
A softness overtakes his expression, a quiet awe in the way he looks at you. “All right, then,” he whispers, his voice carrying the weight of a vow, finally feeling content and as if that block that’s been sitting in the pit of his brain has finally evaporated. “From now on, let’s watch the sea together. Rafayel’s fingers trace the curve of your cheek, a touch so light it feels like a dream. The morning light seeps into the room, casting a golden glow across his face. His eyes hold yours, filled with a tender resolve. “We’ll watch every sea. Together.”
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