the sweet taste of you
ft. rafayel (lads)
synopsis; a picnic among the flowers takes a rather delicious turn when you demand that rafayel closes his eyes and guess what fruits you're feeding him. (18+) ˎˊ˗
content; switch!reader, switch!raf (no explicit dynamics but you both like to be in charge), pussy eating, teasing, rafayel is essentially blindfolded for the beginning half, obedient rafayel, pussy obsessed rafayel, pussy sniffer rafayel, kissing, picnic date, oral sex in a public place, reader wears a skirt, nipple play, petnames (pretty girl, cutie, my love, baby) - divider by @/saradika-graphics
notes; I've been on and off writing this since feb and then suddenly this week i wrote about 3000 words and then got it finished yesterday.. once again this did not go entirely in the direction i thought it would but! that's just how things roll <3
[ wc; 4317 ]
The crystal blue sky sits above you, the scattered fluff of clouds that has been providing you with brief intermissions from the warmth begins to settle its movements, allowing you to bask in soft rays from the sun. A buzzing noise flits past your ear, a little bee or a fly hoping to get their teeth sunk into one of the delicious pieces of food that sit on the blanket next to you—courtesy of Rafayel.
Somehow your fingertips feel cool against Rafayel's skin, evidenced by the low whine he lets out when you first touch him and the pout that graces his features when you continue your exploration beneath his open shirt, despite his meak protest.
“Pretty girl…” His voice is deep, almost husky.
“Yeah, Raf?” You speak with a smile, your fingers still tracing the contours of his exposed chest.
He tuts, turning his head up and away from your gaze, feigning irritation. A heavy breath escapes his lips when you run your hand over the waistband of his shorts, you watch as his eyes flutter, almost rolling back in his head. There's something so delicious about working him up like this, just barely touching his skin and eliciting such a severe reaction from him… It makes your heart skip a beat when you think about all the things you can wind him up with when he gets like this—when his chest rises and falls a little faster than usual, when his eyes have trouble meeting yours and when his hands get unusually fidgety, like he knows where he wants them to be but he just can't bring himself to move them there.
It entices you enough to continue your exploration. One of your hands winds delicately around his upper arm, his attempt to subtly flex does not go unnoticed by you.
The tips of his ears burn when you speak, “oh–my baby–are you hungry for something?”
His eyebrows furrow in protest, jutting his lip out while slowly turning his head back towards you—unwilling, and unable, to go without seeing your face for any longer, especially while your hands are touching him like they are.
“No,” Rafayel answers. Slowly he moves his hands towards your wrist, chasing the high that only your skin against his can give.
“No?” You fall back from your knees with a soft thud, your crossed legs slowly stretching out in front of you. Rafayel's fingertips just manage to graze you before you draw away from his touch and he feels a small lump form in his throat.
You plant your hands on the blanket behind you, arching your back and shifting your weight onto your palms. A deep groan reverberates within your chest, the kind that starts small and finishes with your eyes squeezing shut and your mouth hanging open. A light blush crawls across your cheeks when you lock eyes with Rafayel again, his gaze as penetrating as a knife.
He flashes a knowing smile at you before speaking, “although… I did collect all of this food especially for you, it would be a shame to waste it, no?”
You nod. Rafayel spies a twinkle in your eye that wasn’t there before—a tell tale sign of a plan forming in your head.
“Do you think–” You pause, “no… it’s silly…” You trail off, confident that your boyfriend will be unable to let go off the bait you’ve just left dangling in front of him.
“Hey!” He whines, with a lilt in his voice that tells you he knows you're trying to trick him somehow, but that he just can’t stand the thought of you keeping something from him. “Tell me what you're thinking about, pretty girl.”
He leans closer to you when he speaks, his face now close enough that you could poke your tongue out and hit his nose with it if you wanted to—he always screeches when you lick his face but he’s never been good at hiding the smile that always comes along with the protests and half hearted attempts to push you away.
“Close your eyes,” you whisper. There’s a challenge in your eye—enticing, daring, almost hypnotic—and Rafayel has never been one to back down from a challenge.
He raises an eyebrow at you but follows your request without so much as a word. You smile, a blossom of pride and something a little more… dangerous creeping over you.
You gently guide him away from you, pushing against his chest with little resistance. You manoeuvre him so that he sits between your legs, his back to your chest, and when you lean ever so slightly away from him to pull the platter of fruit closer to your thigh you hear a whine of protest leave his lips.
“It’s okay, baby, I’m still here,” you coo. “Are your eyes still shut?”
He nods.
“Good, do you trust me?”
He shivers as your breath fans his neck.
He nods again.
“Open your mouth…” You instruct.
You see a small flicker of hesitation in his movements, he turns his head towards your voice before pausing, a question sitting on the tip of his tongue. He takes a deep breath, his eyes still tightly screwed shut, and runs his tongue across his lower lip before doing as you request. You smile, deciding not to warn the artist about what you plan to do.
You pick up the first piece of fruit—a watermelon slice, no larger than your pinky finger—and carefully place it between his lips.
The warmth of his mouth paired with the still chilled piece of fruit has your eyes rolling back, you have to bite your tongue in order to keep yourself focused. Your free hand reaches around the other side of his head and holds his jaw gently in place, you pulse three times as if to say I'm here, I'm holding you, I got you. This surprise touch makes his tongue loll out of his mouth and you take the opportunity to push the watermelon further along his tongue until he finally takes the hint and accepts it wholly into his mouth.
“Tell me what it is.” You command, eyes raking over his body as he takes a shuddering breath.
He swallows. Sticking his tongue out as if to show you that it’s all gone.
“Easy. Watermelon,” Rafayel is evidently pleased with himself, as proven by the cocky, lopsided smile on his face.
“Well done, baby. Would you like another?”
Rafayel opens his mouth to answer, already craving that sweet watermelon again, but before he manages to get the words out he freezes, like a deer caught in headlights. He spins his mind around your words, about how you asked him, the way your voice inflected when you said ‘would’. It feels as though you're trying to trick him, he realises with a start, to make your invitation so alluring that he slips up and says the wrong thing… There's no way you’d say no if he said wanted more watermelon, so why does that feel like it’s the wrong choice? His breath catches in his throat for only a split second but you catch onto what he’s thinking and you smile a wicked smile.
“Oh, baby, you're very clever.” Your voice is as smooth as honey—but ten times sweeter. “Your eyes closed?”
He nods, a small smile of victory rests on his face as he feels you grasp hold of his jaw again. Your hold on him is solid, he couldn’t squirm away even if he wanted to.
“Good. Now open up.”
Rafayel does as instructed, already beginning to catch onto what you want him to do. His lips wrap around the fruit, greedily sucking the juice from your fingertips as you push the small piece of sweetness further into his mouth.
“Tell me what it is,” you say, watching as he swallows the fruit piece.
He wastes no time in answering, you barely get your sentence out before he says:
“Kiwi.”
Again, his cockiness is plain to see, you curve your head around to get a better look at his face and you are unsurprised to find that all too familiar smirk plastered on his pretty face. Time to take this up a notch, you think.
Your eyes flit to the platter laying by your thigh, the berries and apples and mango slices that are all neatly organised on the wooden board that Rafayel stole from your apartment. You press a gentle kiss to the side of his head and gently remove your arm from its place on his waist. You stand, Rafayel audibly whines at the loss of contact and it takes all your willpower not to jump him right then and there. He knows you won’t be going far, just as he knows how sensitive you are to his whines, but the pout that sits on his face when you crouch down in front of him sets off a wildfire inside of you. The heat blares inside your chest, your lips are dry and there’s this odd feeling inside of you akin to what you can only assume a hunter feels when they finally catch a glimpse of their prey.
“Cutie…” Rafayel whispers.
His voice cuts you away from the jungle of thoughts that you were lost in. His eyes are still closed but the pout on his face has deepened considerably.
“I’m sorry, angel, I wasn’t going anywhere, I promise.” Your words of comfort are laced with something darker and it makes Rafayel shudder. His breath hitches when you continue to speak, that same undertone in your voice causes his chest to heave, just a little bit. “I just missed your face too much. I wanted to come around and take a good look at you, is that alright?”
A shaky whisper escapes Rafayel’s lips, “y-yes. That’s fi-fine.”
You smile as you reach your hand up towards his face. It’s still covered in the remnants of his saliva and the juice of the kiwi but it doesn't look like he minds the stickiness, you watch as your skin comes into contact with his cheek, the way his eyes screw up (as if they could get anymore closed) and the way he leans into your touch like he’s been missing it for a hundred years. A pang of something sweet hits your chest and drives you closer to him.
“I’m going to kiss you now.” You whisper against his lips.
Rafayel can feel your breath on his face, his body lurches towards yours in an adorable and almost unconscious attempt to get closer to you despite not fully knowing where you are. You crash your lips against his before he has the chance to find you. Your hand squeezes his cheek and as you rub your thumb along his cheekbone you find yourself dragged away from your knees towards Rafayel’s lap. His arms encircle your waist and you gasp when he pulls you straight against his chest. The two of you fall down together, the platter of fruit by your side goes flying and you groan when the juices spill onto the picnic blanket. Rafayel wastes no time before flipping you onto your back, his fluidity and agility is no match for you when he takes you by surprise. You blink, looking up at the artist who now hovers over your body. You grimace when the spilled fruit juices start to seep into your clothes, but Rafayel plants his lips against yours roughly before you can even think to complain.
His hands are warm on your skin, they roam up and down your sides as he attempts to claw his way past your clothes. He pulls and tugs desperately at the material until finally you hear a tearing noise. Your protests fall on deaf ears, or rather, your attempts to protest, since Rafayel refuses to be separated from your lips for any longer than a second. His mouth is hot—almost searing. The build up of your sweet, teasing voice and the delicious fruit was almost too much for him. His hands find purchase on your now clothesless waist, the touch makes you groan as his fingertips dig into your flesh. The pain is welcoming, a beautiful addition to the taste of his tongue as it roams your mouth.
He tastes sweet.
The watermelon and kiwi from a delicious concoction of fruity heaven. Your tongues swirl together, both chasing and being chased by the other. As Rafayel attempts to move his tongue elsewhere he is met with a hum of annoyance from you, followed by an act that almost makes him cum on the spot: you pull his tongue into your mouth and suck on it like it’s his cock. You bob your head back and forth, whining and groaning as if you’re the one being sucked on. Your hands scramble for the back of his head and you lace your fingers among the strands and pull, just hard enough for him to moan into your mouth. Rafayel’s weight almost gives out from under him, he falls further onto you and in one swift movement his hands are freed from under your ripped clothes and planted palm down on the ground. His fast reflexes are the only thing stopping him from having a bloody nose right about now and if his brain could think about anything other than how badly he needs to taste you then it’d be thanking the stars for giving him the strength to catch his own weight as he fell.
You pull away reluctantly and take a big gasp for air. As your eyes flutter open you catch a glimpse of your boyfriend’s face—smug, happy, slightly dazed and with very glossy lips—as it disappears below your eyeline.
“Fuck, baby, you– your– mhm, so hot.” He murmurs against your neck.
Your eyes roll back as he runs his tongue over your exposed skin, such a warm and tingly feeling has your nerves going haywire because you know what’s coming next. A sharp sting of pain floods your body, Rafayel’s teeth sink into your neck, softer than usual but the chaotic mixture of pleasure and pain has you writhing underneath him. He smirks in satisfaction as he pulls away, kissing and licking over the wound.
Your chest sits just below his chin, exposed and free for anyone to see should they choose to take a scroll through the field this afternoon—unbeknownst to you that this will most certainly not be happening. Rafayel has taken every precaution to ensure the two of you stay undisturbed during your date, even when he didn't know the turn it would take…
Rafayel listens to the sounds of pleasure that escape from your mouth as he kisses further and further down your body. You hum in satisfaction as Rafayel plants delicate open mouth kisses down your chest, he works slowly, moving deliberately and with just enough softness to have you wanting. You squeak when Rafayel runs his tongue around your pebbled nipple, the warmth of his mouth makes you shudder. One of his hands sneaks up to play with your other boob, not wanting to leave one of his girls feeling unloved, and your squeak becomes more of a groan when he rolls his fingertips around the hardened bud. You let out raspy whispers of his name when he comes to rest at the waistband of your skirt and when he pulls the thin fabric over his head and kisses your exposed clit with no warning you gasp so loudly that Rafayel is certain his heart can’t take any more.
“Naughty girl,” he tuts. “You must have been planning something, hm? To wear this pretty lilac skirt with no underwear on a date where you know we won’t be in public? Don’t you know it’s rude to assume…” He chuckles against your lips, you can feel his breath fan you as he speaks, and it makes you want to slam your legs closed.
Not being able to see where his face sits is testing your patience more than anything else today. All you can see is the outline of his head, but what his eyes are fixed on, where he plans to move his tongue next, are both mysteries to you. You wait with bated breath for him to do something, to press his tongue against you or plant rough kisses on the sensitive bud between your legs. But he doesn't. He doesn’t move for what feels like hours and when you think you’ll just about scream if he doesn’t do something soon, he moves.
He plants his mouth around your clit and sucks. He turns his mouth into a suction cup and the sensation almost causes you to rocket out of your position on the floor. His hands hold your thighs in place, his fingers digging into the flesh as if he’s trying to tether himself to you. When he begins to bob his head up and down your eyes go wide, stars infiltrate your vision as he slowly works himself into a frenzy between your thighs. His wish to go slow and steady fizzles away as he hears you whining his name above his head, your soft voice penetrating his ears sounds as sweet as ever while you're begging him for… something–he can’t quite hear your words.
Rafayel takes a deep inhale as he pulls his lips away from you, the smell of your arousal sends a jolt of electricity straight down his spine. His eyes roll back into his head and when he takes another breath, louder and deeper this time, you feel the heat of embarrassment creep its way over your already flushed skin.
“Raaaf… Don’t– it’s embarrassing.” You whine.
Rafayel takes another inhale of your scent just to tease you and you roll your eyes at his unyielding obsession.
“You can’t tell me not to when you smell so good, cutie.” His voice is light, teasing. “Makes me want to eat you until the sun goes down.” He says, head still underneath your skirt.
You look up towards the sky. At your best guess you’d say it’s around 3pm… which leaves you with about 5 hours until sunset, give or take.
“Baby… you can’t, we have t–”
Rafayel slips out from under your skirt. His eyes latch onto you, his gaze is piercing and as it rakes down your body you feel almost entirely unable—or unwilling—to move. As though if you move you will break the spell that he’s under, or unleash the beast that is threatening to burst out from under the artist’s skin any minute now.
“Don't tell me I can’t.” His eyes darken, his voice is slow, precise, deadly.
You cough, wanting to ease the tension. “I-uh–”
“Keep your legs open and let me feast, isn't that what you've been trying to get me to do all afternoon? Feeding me fruits and sweet things, as if there's anything else in this world that I could find as sweet as you.”
He disappears as fast as he appeared, dipping back below your skirt before you have the chance to reply. His lips find you again immediately, not even giving you enough time to latch your hands onto the blanket beneath you.
The juices from the fruit platter stick to your skin, you can see the strawberries and raspberries strewn about to your left and the mango and watermelon pieces disappear out of your view behind Rafayel's figure. The soft grass and summertime flowers fade away as your eyes flutter closed again, the strong scent of fruits and pollen penetrate your senses in their wake. You can hear the sound of birds flying and chirping overhead.
There's something so… addicting about having you under his lips. Rafayel hopes it will never fade. The way your legs twitch as he swirls his tongue over your clit, switching between playfully flicking and licking your bundle of nerves like a lolly, makes the desire in his chest bloom brighter than the flowers you're currently surrounded by. He never tires of your taste, always letting the last drops of your juices linger on his tongue for as long as possible. And your scent– oh! It's Rafayel's obsession.
Your hands squeeze around the material of the blanket as Rafayel continues to make out with your pussy. You've had your eyes screwed shut for so long now that he's got you seeing stars. Raspy moans and shallow breaths are the only noises that manage to escape from between your lips, and other than the few and far between whispers of his name you haven't spoken for what feels like hours. The familiar wave of pleasure threatens to wash over you soon and it takes all of your will to hold off for as long as possible—lest you become overwhelmingly sensitive.
Rafayel hears the change in your breath and it sends a surge of fresh energy through his body. His pace quickens and he has you arching off of the ground, trying to get closer to his mouth. The familiarity with which he's kissing your clit causes a scream-like moan to erupt from your mouth.
Rafayel moans against you, continuing to plant kisses on your clit between each word. “I-” kiss. “Know-” kiss. “Baby-” kiss. “You–You’re-” kiss. “Almost-” kiss. “There-” kiss. “Fuck, you taste so good!”
The way that Rafayel speaks his last few words, so breathless and desperate, has you twitching with desire. You can hear how badly he wants you to cum, how much he’s enjoying tasting you. Heat prickles all over your body, a bead of sweat trickles down your chest as the sun blares down on the two of you. Rafayel takes a shape inhale of breath.
You realise just a second too late why he wanted that extra air…
His tongue presses between your pussy lips excitedly, lapping at the juices that have already pooled there. The tip of his nose nudges against your clit and elicits a whine from your already open mouth—a path of drool trails from the corner of your mouth down to your chin, a marker for how truly blissed out he’s making you feel. That extra breath of air he took seems to be giving Rafayel the fuel to push you right over the edge. He works tirelessly now. His mouth moves back over to your clit and when he places it over your already sensitive bud you're unable to stop the sound that blasts past your lips.
“Aaa–Raaaf–oh… ooh,” you cry.
Your moans are half delirious. The pleasure threatens to sweep over you any second now. Rafayel holds your thighs tight, uncaring about leaving fingernail indents in your flesh. It’s times like this when you're reminded of just how strong he is. He keeps your lower half completely still, his biceps rest just below your knees and every flex of his muscle sends another pulse of desire straight to your core.
“Raf!” You yell out when he begins to roll his tongue over your pulsing bud. “Raf, please– I-I’m gonna–”
Your back arches off of the ground as your wave of pleasure begins to crash down over you. Your hands scramble for something to hold onto, you scratch and claw at Rafayel’s head until your skirt is pushed out of the way. The second you feel his hair between your fingers you snap your eyes open, needing to look at him, needing to see him, before the thread finally snaps.
“Fuck–f-fuck fu-fuck fuck–” You curse brokenly.
Rafayel knows you’re cumming. He can tell just from the way your breath is shallow and ragged. He opens his eyes when your fingers thread through his hair and when he looks up he swears there’s a halo resting around the top of your head. Your angelic glow almost causes the artist’s heart to skip a beat. The soft rays of the afternoon sun sit beautifully on your skin.
Rafayel is precise and measured with the way he manages to carry you through your orgasm, he doesn’t rush, there’s never any worry that he’s going to stop touching you before you get to the end. He continues to move his tongue over your clit, kissing and sucking and bobbing his head up and down until he’s certain and satisfied. He pulls away when he senses you're about to open your mouth to complain about being too sensitive.
“You’re fine, my love,” he whispers from between your legs, eyes still locked to yours.
You see a smile surface on his face and you match it with a bashful one of your own. He slowly peels himself away from your lower half, but just before he leaves he gives your clit one more little kiss. It causes your body to jolt unexpectedly.
“Oi!” You cry, shoving at him as he climbs his way up your body.
He stops and kisses you in all the same places he did on the way down. Your waist, your chest and your neck—which now possesses a Rafayel shaped set of teeth marks.
As he settles himself on top of you, the beginnings of a full body ache already setting in, he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. Your eyes screw shut when he starts to pepper kisses all over your face, soft laughter and giddy breathlessly settles in the air between you.
The two of you stay there—lying on the picnic blanket soaked in fruit juice, with watermelons and mangoes and apples and berries scattered all around you—an entangled mess of sweat and limbs and torn clothes, until you’ve been laying there for so long you think he must have fallen asleep.
Rafayel takes a deep breath, curling his face into the curve of your neck and placing a kiss to the mark he left earlier. You smell like vanilla and strawberries.
“I love you. So much.” He whispers against your skin.
You smile, love sick and happy.
“I love you too, my gorgeous boy.”