Vyx @vyxenisl0st - Tumblr Blog

ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴏʀᴅꜱ

Pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

Summary: Rafayel has always despised social gatherings, counting down the minutes until he can escape and return to his quiet solitude. But tonight, something shifts. As the evening drags on, he finds himself secretly hoping it never ends. Because for the first time, he doesn’t want to leave—he doesn’t want to leave her.

Word count: 8,7k

Warnings: +18, smut, fluff, mentions of drowning, reader is referred to as “she”, non mc reader, reader’s appearance not specified

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆

If there was one night Rafayel despised more than any other in the entire year, it was this one—the annual art exhibition. A night designed, in theory, to celebrate creativity and expression, but in reality, it felt more like a punishment. It was the one evening where every so-called renowned artist was herded into an elegant, echoing hall under the pretense of socializing. Forced mingling. Small talk. Pretentious compliments wrapped in passive-aggression. It was like an introvert’s version of hell, disguised in champagne flutes and overpriced canapés.

Rafayel had never understood the appeal. No one who spent their days locked in a studio with nothing but canvases, paint, and existential dread had the social skills for this kind of thing. It was like throwing a bunch of wild animals into a zoo and hoping they’d form a book club.

The first hour was always the worst. Like clockwork, Thomas—his ever-enthusiastic manager and eternal thorn in his side—would drag him from one circle of strangers to the next, tossing out names like Rafayel was supposed to recognize them. “You remember Elise? She did that installation with the melted clocks?” No, Rafayel didn’t. He barely remembered what day it was. But he’d smile, nod, and pretend the conversation wasn’t slowly killing him from the inside.

He tried to remember their names. He really did. But it was like trying to grab smoke. And honestly, he couldn’t decide which was more painful: pretending to care about their art or pretending to enjoy their company. His only salvation came in the form of his aunt Talia. She had been invited, as always, to open the night with a couple of songs—something elegant and haunting on the grand piano in the center of the gallery. He clung to the hope that she’d stay after her performance, giving him someone to hide behind. She had a way of making everything seem a little less insufferable. Maybe because she was the only one in the room who understood that art didn’t need to be dissected over finger foods and fake compliments.

He scanned the room now, hoping to catch sight of her—anything to distract from the sea of air kisses and pretentious laughter echoing off whitewashed walls.

Instead, his gaze landed on someone else. A woman.

She looked both familiar and entirely foreign to him. He didn’t remember most of the people in this room—faces blurred together over the years—but he was certain he would’ve remembered her. There was something about her that refused to be forgotten.

She was a paradox, wrapped in velvet and shadow. She moved through the room with a kind of effortless grace, like she belonged here—yet something about her stood out. She blended into the background like she’d been painted into the scene, and yet… your eyes kept finding her. As if the light bent around her just a little differently.

Composed. Relaxed. Poised. Unbothered.

And suddenly, she was right in front of him.

He blinked. When had he started walking?

Apparently, his legs had made the decision without consulting his brain. A bold move for someone who barely knew how to say “hello” without overthinking it. He had no plan, no words prepared, and no idea what he thought he was going to do when he got here.

He stopped a few feet away, heart knocking against his ribs like it was trying to escape. She hadn’t noticed him yet, which was both a relief and a tragedy. He was sure he looked like an absolute idiot—standing there, staring at her like he’d never seen another human being before. He should turn around. Right now.

“Good evening.”

The words slipped from his mouth before he had the chance to run. There was no going back now. He hoped she hadn’t heard him—that the soft music floating through the gallery had drowned out his voice, muffled it into nothing.

But then she turned.

And as their eyes met, Rafayel swore his heart stopped. She parted her lips to respond—but before a single sound could escape, another voice, unmistakably feminine and far too familiar, cut through the moment.

“Rafayel, darling! There you are.”

He turned, reluctantly, to see his aunt Talia approaching, her smile sharp with amusement.

“Ohh, I see you’ve met my friend (Y/N),” she said, stepping up beside them. “I hope you haven’t been bothering her too much… or making her uncomfortable.” The pointed look she gave him was playful, but no less effective. (Y/N) laughed softly, the sound effortless and warm. Rafayel was pretty sure he’d just died on the spot. “Don’t worry, Talia,” she said, her voice light as a breeze. “He only managed to get two words out before you came in and saved the day.”

Her voice was… something else. Like a siren’s song wrapped in velvet. Thank god the music was still playing—if he’d heard her clearly, without anything to soften the edges, he was certain he would’ve dropped to his knees and pledged his life to her. Talia chuckled, linking her arm with (Y/N)’s. “Well, then, I suppose I should properly introduce you. Rafayel, meet (Y/N). She’s a singer. I invited her to close out the exhibition tonight, since I—” she paused, dramatically gesturing to her neck, “—ruined my voice two days ago with something far less flattering than champagne. Now I can’t sing more than one song without feeling like my vocal cords are being shredded.” She winced, rubbing her throat and rolling her eyes as if the memory itself was painful. “And (Y/N), this is my nephew, Rafayel.” Talia smiled knowingly. “I’ve mentioned him before. A very talented artist, though not exactly fond of big crowds. He could probably learn a thing or two from you.” Before Rafayel could muster any response, Talia’s attention was grabbed by another artist. With a wink, she excused herself and moved off, leaving them alone once again. (Y/N)’s gaze met Rafayel’s once more. Her eyes were the most captivating shade he’d ever seen—piercing yet gentle. He could paint a thousand portraits and still never capture the full depth of her beauty. Her voice broke through his thoughts, light and teasing. “So, you’re the infamous Rafayel? I’m glad I can finally put a face to the name. And what a face!” She gave him a teasing grin, as if daring him to react, expecting him to fold under the weight of her playful attention. And he did. Of course, he did. But he straightened himself, put on the bravest smile he could muster, and decided to play along. “Well, if this is the first time you’ve seen my face,” Rafayel said with a smirk, “then I must not be so infamous after all.” (Y/N) laughed, throwing her head back—and for a moment, he forgot where he was. He’d never heard a sound so effortlessly beautiful. It wasn’t just a laugh—it was music, and it played straight through him.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a door leading out to a secluded balcony, dimly lit and—thankfully—empty. A small escape. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough that only she could hear. “Come on. Let’s get some fresh air. This music’s starting to mess with my head.” She raised an eyebrow, amused, but didn’t hesitate. With a soft nod, she followed him through the crowd and out onto the balcony, the noise of the gallery fading behind them.

The air outside was cool and quiet, the hum of the night city far more bearable than the chatter inside. For the first time all evening, Rafayel could breathe. He glanced over at her as she stepped beside him, the moonlight catching in her hair. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her—the way the city lights danced in her eyes, the way the wind tugged gently at her hair. Then, catching himself, he cleared his throat and looked away. “So… how do you know my aunt Talia?” (Y/N) leaned against the balcony railing, gaze drifting down toward the glowing city below. “Her manager reached out to mine a while ago—asked if we could do a duet at the opening of some gala. I was already a fan of hers, so I said yes. Since then, we’ve crossed paths at a few events here and there.” Rafayel smirked. “Well, clearly I need to have a word with my manager. He’s clearly not pulling the same kind of strings.”

She laughed softly, the sound barely louder than the breeze “He’s probably looking for me right now,” Rafayel added with a mock sigh. “But I take every opportunity I can to hide from him.” (Y/N) tilted her head, one brow raised. “Ah, I see. So I’m just your getaway plan.” She said it with a teasing glint in her eye, and he didn’t even try to deny it. “A very convincing one,” he replied, grinning. “And, might I add, the most charming excuse I’ve ever had.” (Y/N) gave him a mock-offended look, hand over her heart. “Charming and shameless. I see how it is. Rafayel leaned against the railing beside her, pretending to think. “I prefer the term resourceful, actually.” She smirked. “Right. ‘Resourceful.’ Is that what they’re calling social awkwardness these days?” He gasped—dramatically, of course. “Ouch. You wound me.” “Come on,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “You’re not that awkward. Just… slightly uncomfortable. Like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Rafayel blinked at her. “Wow. That’s—okay, hold on. First of all, rude. Second of all, I hate cats.”Her eyes lit up with amusement. “Seriously? Who hates cats?”“People with survival instincts,” he shot back, looking genuinely offended. “They’re miniature chaos demons wrapped in fur. You never know what they’re planning. One minute they’re purring, the next they’re clawing your soul out through your skin.”

(Y/N) laughed, clearly delighted. “You’ve been personally victimized by a cat, haven’t you?” “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “More than once. I still have the emotional scars. I don’t trust anything with retractable knives for hands and no conscience.” She leaned against the railing, grinning. “So noted—no cat comparisons for you. You strike me more as a… grumpy old man who got dragged to a party he didn’t want to attend.” He pointed at her. “Much more accurate. Grumpy, corner-loving, people-dodging—I’ll own that.” “Well, you hide it well,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Or maybe I’m just distracting enough.” He gave her a sideways glance, lips twitching. “You’re definitely distracting. I was in the middle of a solid disappearing act before you showed up.” “And now?” He shrugged with a smile. “Now I’m kind of hoping no one finds me.”(Y/N) leaned casually against the railing, her shoulder just brushing his. “You know,” she said, glancing at him with a sly smile, “for someone who hates attention, you’re kind of hard to ignore.” Rafayel felt his brain short-circuit for half a second. Was that a compliment? A trap? Both? He blinked, then tried to play it cool.

“Uh—well, I… I try not to stand out,” he mumbled, immediately hating himself for how lame that sounded. She laughed softly, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him. “You’re not doing a very good job of it.” He looked away, pretending to admire the city lights. In truth, he was trying very hard not to stare at her. “I think you like it out here,” she added, watching him out of the corner of her eye. “Away from the crowd. Just you, me, and that nervous twitch in your eyebrow.” Rafayel instinctively raised a hand to his face. “I don’t have a twitch.” “You totally do,” she said, grinning like a cat with cream. “It’s cute.”

“I, uh… I don’t usually do this,” he admitted, instantly regretting it. Great. Very smooth. Just admit how out of your depth you are, genius. (Y/N) leaned in just a little closer, lowering her voice like she was letting him in on a secret. “What, talk to mysterious strangers on balconies at pretentious art exhibitions?”

Rafayel gave a nervous chuckle. “Pretty much. Normally I just… blend in with the potted plants and hope for the best.” “Well, tonight’s your lucky night,” she said, flicking her gaze over him with deliberate mischief. “Because I happen to be into mysterious strangers with messy hair and zero social skills.” His mouth opened, but no words came out. “Are you always like this?” he asked, unsure if he meant it as a compliment or a desperate plea for mercy.

She gave him a sweet, innocent smile that did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. “Like what?”

“You know exactly like what.”She just laughed again, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re fun, Rafayel.” Rafayel’s fingers trembled slightly where they rested on the railing. He couldn’t tell if it was from the cold seeping into his skin or the storm of nerves twisting in his chest. Maybe both. All he knew for sure was that this woman—this mesmerizing, maddening woman—was driving him out of his mind. Her eyes, impossibly deep, were like the kind of ocean sailors got lost in. And her voice? Sweet, effortless, dangerous—like a siren’s lullaby meant to lure him under. Without trusting himself to speak too long, he turned to her and offered his arm with a small, almost shy smile. “Come on,” he said, tone softer than he intended. “It’s cold out here.”

She didn’t hesitate. She slipped her arm through his like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the moment her skin brushed his, Rafayel swore he was struck by lightning. Not metaphorically. Literally. Every nerve in his body lit up like a fuse.

He swallowed hard and prayed his legs would remember how to walk properly as he guided her back toward the gallery doors. The music grew louder as they stepped inside, but all he could hear was the echo of her laughter and the silent scream of what is happening to me bouncing around in his head.

As they stepped back into the golden light of the gallery, the warmth did little to settle the storm in Rafayel’s chest. The chatter of guests floated around them like white noise, the clinking of glasses and soft jazz a distant hum. But all he could focus on was the way (Y/N)’s arm still rested in his, unhurried, like she wasn’t in any rush to let go. “I think,” she said slowly, like choosing her words for effect, “you’re more interesting than you let on.” “I think you enjoy making people uncomfortable,” he muttered, lips twitching.

“Only the cute ones.”

There it was again. That casual delivery of words that left him speechless. She made it sound so easy. Like flirting was her first language. Like he wasn’t currently trying to remember how functioning humans were supposed to respond to this level of charm. So, he did the only thing he could think of—he walked her toward one of the smaller displays, where his own paintings hung quietly on the wall, surrounded by a few guests murmuring in passing. “Here,” he said, almost shyly. “If you’re going to tease me all night, you might as well have some proper material.” (Y/N) let go of his arm—he missed the warmth immediately—and stepped closer to the canvas. She studied it for a moment, hands clasped behind her back. Rafayel waited, heart thudding. Please like it. Or don’t. Actually—no, definitely please like it.

“You painted this?”

He nodded.

It was a painting of the sea—soft light breaking over waves still heavy with memory. The morning after a storm. Sky cracked open with the first hints of warmth, the kind that comes only after everything has been washed clean.

(Y/N) stood in front of it, her gaze unusually quiet. She turned to him slowly, her voice more delicate now—less playful, more honest. “I have a copy of this in my home,” she said, her eyes flicking between him and the canvas. “Art never really interested me much. I mean, I appreciated it, I guess—but it never moved me. Not until I saw this.” Rafayel blinked, unsure he’d heard her right. “Wait… seriously?” She nodded, her lips curving into a softer smile. “I saw it a couple of years ago at some gallery and I couldn’t stop looking at it. There was something about it… something still. I hung it in my studio. On the wall right across from my piano.”

Her eyes found his again, and this time they weren’t teasing. They were sincere. Steady. “It’s calming. Like someone understood the chaos in my head and painted the moment right after it passed.”

Rafayel forgot how to breathe for a second.

That piece was personal—one of the rare ones he hadn’t made for show, hadn’t created with an audience in mind. It was something raw. Private. A moment he hadn’t expected anyone to connect with—let alone someone like her. “The ocean calms me,” he said softly, his voice almost lost under the music. “Makes me feel at peace. At home.” (Y/N) tilted her head, watching him. “I painted this after a bad storm,” he continued. “It’s simple, but… meaningful.”

She was silent for a second, as if the weight of those words deserved space to breathe.

“I can feel that,” she said eventually, her voice low.

He nodded, suddenly self-conscious. “I don’t usually talk about this stuff.” She smiled, warm and inviting. “That’s okay. I don’t usually care about paintings. Yet here we are,” she grinned, “I’m completely fascinated.” He turned his head slightly toward her. “By the art or the artist?” She raised a brow, pretending to think. “Hmm… still deciding.”

Unfortunately, their moment was abruptly interrupted when one of the staff members, clipboard in hand, approached them. Rafayel glanced at him, reluctantly pulled from the magnetic pull of (Y/N)’s presence. “Ms. (Y/N),” the staff member said, his voice firm but respectful. “It’s nearly time for your performance.” (Y/N) looked at him with a slight nod, but before she could reply, her gaze flicked back to Rafayel, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

“Well, mister painter,” she began, her tone playful, “you did your part. Now, miss singer needs to do hers.” She gestured toward herself with a flourish, the teasing smile never leaving her face. The lightness in her voice made Rafayel’s heart ache—he didn’t want this to end, not yet. With a quick glance back at him, she turned, taking a few steps toward the backstage area. But then, as if the universe had allowed for one last spark of connection, she called over her shoulder, her voice light and flirtatious. “I hope I’ll see you in the crowd,” she said, sending him a wink that felt like an electric jolt straight to his chest.

Rafayel’s breath caught, and for a moment, he was sure his heart had skipped a beat. He wanted to say something—anything—that could make her stay, or at least stretch this moment just a little longer. But the words failed him. Instead, he stood there, staring at her retreating figure, struck by the undeniable pull she had on him. As the staff member led her away, he watched her vanish behind the curtain, the moment hanging between them, leaving him both shaken and, for reasons he couldn’t explain, completely captivated.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” he muttered to himself, almost as if trying to convince his own heart that everything would be fine. But deep down, he knew that after the night was over, it wouldn’t just be the art he was thinking about.

Rafayel knew that her performance meant the night was winding down—and with it, his time with (Y/N). He took another sip of champagne, emptying the glass as the music from the crowd began to grow louder, signaling the approaching end of the event. He set the glass down on a nearby table, pushing through the wave of people and making his way toward the main room where (Y/N) would soon be performing.

The atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation. As he entered, the lighting dimmed, and the chatter began to fade as all eyes turned to the stage. There she was, standing confidently under the spotlight, ready to take her place at the center of the room. Rafayel couldn’t help but watch her for a moment longer. Her presence seemed to fill the room, effortlessly commanding attention without even trying.

Rafayel stood at the back of the room, feeling a pull toward the stage that he couldn’t explain. The lights dimmed, and the crowd quieted in anticipation as (Y/N) stepped up to the microphone. The moment she began to sing, it was as if the world around him fell away. Her voice. It was… mesmerizing. The kind of voice you would only hear in the heart of Lemuria—ancient, mysterious, like it belonged to some forgotten goddess whose songs could stir the seas themselves. Each note seemed to float effortlessly into the air, its warmth filling the room, wrapping itself around Rafayel like an invisible force. He found himself rooted to the spot, unable to look away. The richness in her voice, the effortless control, the way she carried every word—it was hypnotic. There was no denying it. Her talent wasn’t just a performance; it was something beyond that, something that resonated deeply within him. The raw emotion, the clarity, the way it made the air feel just a little more alive… it was enough to make him forget where he was.

As the music swelled and (Y/N) hit a particularly haunting note, Rafayel’s heart skipped. He didn’t even realize he had been holding his breath until the song shifted into a gentler melody, and he exhaled, his chest light, almost weightless. His mind still buzzed with the sound of her voice, which had settled somewhere between awe and disbelief. He chuckled to himself quietly, almost embarrassed by how taken he was. It’s just a voice, he thought. But damn, it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before. She had a way of making it look easy—effortless. As if the entire room, the whole night, was being shaped around the sound of her singing. And for a brief moment, Rafayel wondered if this was what it felt like to be completely enchanted by someone’s presence.

During her performance, (Y/N)’s eyes subtly scanned the crowd, searching for one face in particular. She told herself it didn’t matter if he was there—but deep down, she hoped Rafayel had kept his promise. She couldn’t explain why she was so drawn to him. She’d met charming men before—handsome, confident, magnetic—but none of them had made her feel like this. None of them had disarmed her with awkward smiles and quiet intensity.

Then, she saw him.

He stood near the back of the room, partially hidden in the shadows, almost easy to miss. But somehow, her gaze found him effortlessly—like her heart had already memorized where he’d be. And when their eyes met across the crowd, something fluttered in her chest. Her breath caught, her voice faltered for just a split second—but the smile that tugged at her lips was unmistakable.

As the final note of her song lingered in the air, (Y/N) stepped off the stage with a spark in her eyes. The applause faded into background noise as she made her way straight toward him. Without hesitation, she reached for Rafayel’s arm and tugged gently, leaning in just close enough for only him to hear “Let’s get out of here,” she whispered, a daring smile playing on her lips. Rafayel blinked, startled—then grinned. “You read my mind,” he said, and before she could say another word, he swept her up into his arms, earning a surprised laugh from her. Without looking back, he carried her toward the exit, ignoring the stunned silence that rippled through the crowd. Eyes followed them, murmurs stirred, but neither of them cared. In that moment, the rest of the world faded away.

(Y/N) couldn’t quite remember how they’d gotten here—how a look across the room turned into her being pinned against the wall of Rafayel’s hotel room, his lips claiming hers like he’d been holding back for far too long. All she knew was that it felt too good to stop and way too late to question it.

For someone who could barely meet her gaze earlier without tripping over his words, Rafayel now moved with a quiet, smoldering confidence that caught her off guard. There was something raw, urgent, and unspoken in the way he touched her—like he had been painting her in his mind long before tonight. Her fingers made quick work of his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor, and she was already tugging at the buttons of his shirt. But the moment her cool hands brushed his bare chest, Rafayel tensed and pulled back slightly, his breath catching. “We shouldn’t… I mean, we just met. It’s—” he began, voice rough, unsure. (Y/N) pressed a single finger to his lips, silencing him with a soft, teasing smile. “Do you want to stop?” Her voice was gentle, velvet-smooth, but laced with something that made his pulse race. There was no pressure—only the kind of invitation you don’t turn down. He looked into her eyes, and that was all it took. Rafayel shook his head slowly, then took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to her palm, lingering there for a second longer than necessary, before tugging her flush against him again. And this time, when he kissed her, it wasn’t hesitant. It was everything he’d wanted to say but couldn’t. (Y/N) smirked into the kiss, a soft, surprised laugh escaping her lips when Rafayel suddenly swept her off her feet and laid her gently on the bed. Her dress clung stubbornly to her body, clearly not designed for spontaneity. Rafayel’s hands faltered at the fabric, his expression darkening with playful frustration. Sensing his struggle, (Y/N) arched an eyebrow, then slowly unzipped the dress herself, letting it fall away in one fluid motion. She tossed it aside without a second thought, reclining back on her elbows, watching him with a teasing glint in her eyes. Rafayel stood there, momentarily frozen. He couldn’t help it—she was mesmerising. Like a painting come to life, more vivid than anything he’d ever put on canvas. She dragged the tip of one of her heels lightly across his chest, deliberate and slow. “Are you going to stand there all night, Mr. Painter?” she asked, voice silky and amused. Rafayel chuckled, the tension in his jaw melting as he stepped closer. He caught her ankle gently and pressed a kiss to her calf, his eyes never leaving hers “I might pull out a canvas,” he murmured against her skin, “and capture the view forever.”

He continued his slow, deliberate trail of kisses up her leg, his teeth grazing teasingly against the inside of her thigh. (Y/N) sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening in the sheets as she felt the warmth of Rafayel’s breath dangerously close to her most sensitive spot. “You just love to stare, don’t you?” she muttered, her voice low and breathy. Rafayel looked up at her, a wicked glint in his eye as he chuckled. “So impatient,” he whispered, his voice rich with amusement and desire. The dim lamp cast a soft glow across her skin as his finger traced the delicate lace, a whisper of touch that made her shiver. He took his time, savoring the anticipation, before slowly, teasingly, tugging her underwear down her slender thighs. The fabric slid away, revealing her most intimate self, glistening with arousal. Rafayel leaned in, inhaling deeply, allowing her intoxicating scent to fill his lungs. Then, his mouth claimed her, hot and hungry, as his tongue began its sensual exploration. Slowly at first, he traced her folds, learning every dip and curve, committing her taste to memory. She gasped, back arching slightly, fingers fisting in the rumpled sheets as jolts of pleasure ricocheted through her. Soft moans and the lewd sounds of his appreciation echoed in the darkened room, a symphony of their shared desire. "You taste exquisite," Rafayel murmured against her slick flesh, voice roughened with want. She responded by wrapping one long leg around his neck, drawing him closer, urging him on. A low, approving chuckle rumbled in his chest before he dove back in, his tongue delving deep to lavish attention on her aching, throbbing core. Rafayel could tell she was approaching her release by how frantically she grinded against his face, her hips moving with a mind of their own. He matched her urgency, sucking her clit with intense focus as his tongue delved deep into her dripping center. A single finger joined the fray, pumping steadily in and out, stroking her inner walls. Her moans filled the air, growing louder and more desperate with each passing second. "God, Rafayel!" she cried, voice raw with need, and in that moment, he truly felt like a god, because a regular man wouldn’t be worthy of such moments, of hearing sounds so sweet just for him, of her. He knew he was lucky, blessed even, to be the one to bring her such overwhelming pleasure, to be the sole reason for those breathtaking sounds that were, in that moment, all for him. A strangled cry of pure ecstasy tore from her throat as the dam of her desire burst open. Her juices flooded his mouth and painted his face, marking him, claiming him as hers. Rafayel lapped at the sweet nectar like a man starved, relishing every drop, his hand gripping her thigh tightly as she quaked beneath him. Her fingers tangled almost painfully in his hair, holding him in place, keeping him close as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over her. After he was satisfied, he got up and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his lips. She moaned softly before surprising him by pushing him onto his back on the bed. Straddling his hips, she smirked and leaned in close to his ear. "I'm not done with you yet," she whispered, before grazing her teeth along his earlobe. She kissed and nipped her way down his neck and chest, then quickly pulled off his shirt. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and desire as she looked at his bare torso. "I want to explore more of you," she said with a playful grin, her hands already roaming over his muscles. Rafayel's heart raced in anticipation, eager to see what she would do next as they continued their passionate encounter.

Rafayel chuckled, his eyes smoldering with renewed desire as he gazed up at her. "I'm all yours to explore," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

His words caught in his throat, transforming into a strangled groan as she began to grind her bare, slick heat against his clothed, hardening length. His hands flew to her hips, gripping them tightly as he arched into her touch, seeking more of that delicious friction. (Y/N)'s eyebrows shot up in surprise and delight at the needy sound that tore from Rafayel's throat. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she teased, "What was that sound?” She punctuated her words by grinding her hips against his once more, her core leaving a trail of her arousal on his pants. Rafayel blushed fiercely, his face flushing a deep shade of red. He tried to hide his burning cheeks behind his hand, but (Y/N) was having none of that. She simply smirked, amused and aroused by his sudden shyness. Another desperate moan, louder and more wanton than the last, spilled from Rafayel's lips before he could stifle it with his palm. (Y/N) grinned triumphantly, emboldened by the power she held over him, the way his body responded so eagerly to her slightest touch. She continued her sensual assault, determined to unravel him completely, to hear those beautiful, needy sounds fall from his lips over and over again. "Oh, you poor thing," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "So desperate, hmm?" She kept up her maddeningly slow grind, her slick folds gliding along the rigid length straining against his pants. "There's no need to be shy, handsome. Come on, let me see that gorgeous face of yours." Her fingers crept up his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles appreciatively. She leaned in closer, her lips a hair's breadth from his ear. "Don't hold back, Rafayel. I want to hear you.” With those words, she captured his mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing the desperate noises spilling from his throat as she rocked her hips against his with sensual intent. Rafayel groaned, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as (Y/N) continued her tortuous teasing. "Take those off," he whispered urgently against her lips, his patience wearing thin. She smirked, a wicked glint in her eye, before raising her hips to grant his plea. With deft fingers, she unbuttoned his pants and tugged them down his long legs, tossing them carelessly to the floor. Her hand moved to cup his straining erection through the thin fabric of his boxers, stroking him slowly, teasingly, her fingers tracing the hard length of him. Rafayel whimpered again, his hips jerking up into her touch, desperate for more friction. "Stop teasing," he begged, his voice hoarse with need, his body trembling with the force of his desire. (Y/N) just smiled, enjoying the power she held over him, before hooking her fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly, tantalizingly, pulling them down to free his aching cock. It sprang up, long, hard and thick, the swollen head already glistening with desire. She licked her lips at the sight, her eyes darkening with hunger as she wrapped her hand around his throbbing shaft, stroking him properly now, reveling in the way he pulsed in her grip.

She positioned herself above him once more, straddling his hips with her thighs bracketing his waist. Rafayel's breath hitched in anticipation as she reached between them, gripping his hard length and aligning it with her slick entrance. Slowly, torturously so, she began to sink down onto him, her tight walls parting to take him inch by glorious inch. They moaned in unison, their voices mingling and rising in a symphony of shared pleasure. Rafayel's hands flew to her hips, gripping them tightly as he fought the urge to surge up and bury himself to the hilt in her welcoming heat. Instead, he let her set the pace, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, allowing her to adjust to his size. She kept sinking lower and lower, until finally, with a guttural moan, she took him to the base, her hips flush against his, his throbbing cock pulsing deep inside her.

They stayed like that for a moment, savoring the feeling of utter fullness, the incredible connection forged by their joining. Rafayel's hands slid up her sides, calloused fingers skimming over the soft skin of her stomach and ribcage until he reached the clasp of her bra. With a deft flick, he unhooked it, allowing the garment to fall away and reveal the tantalizing curves of her breasts. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and captured one rosy peak in his mouth, his lips wrapping around the sensitive bud as he suckled and swirled his tongue around it. A breathless moan spilled from (Y/N)'s lips as she arched into his touch, her fingers threading through his hair to hold him close. As Rafayel lavished attention on her breast, (Y/N) began to move, slowly grinding her hips against his. She rose up until just the tip of his cock remained inside her, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt once more. She set a steady, sensual rhythm, her inner muscles clenching and unclenching around his hard length as she rode him. The wet, obscene sounds of their coupling filled the room, mingling with their increasingly loud moans and gasps of pleasure. Rafayel's hands slid down to grip her ass, guiding her movements as he matched her thrusts, his hips surging up to meet hers in a dance of pure, primal passion. Soft, desperate whimpers and needy moans tumbled from Rafayel's lips as (Y/N) kept her pace agonizingly slow, tormenting him with exquisite pleasure. He could feel her legs beginning to tire, her knees threatening to buckle as she ground against him with increasing effort. Seizing his chance, Rafayel flipped their positions in one swift, powerful move, pinning (Y/N) beneath him on the mattress. He settled himself between her thighs, his hard length still buried deep inside her, and began to move.

He started slamming into her with a fervor akin to a man possessed, his hips surging forward in a rapid, driving rhythm. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by their increasingly loud moans and cries of ecstasy. Rafayel dipped his head to rest between her breasts, his lips and tongue worshipping each soft mound as he took her with wild abandon. "So good," (Y/N) breathed out, her voice ragged with pleasure. "So good for me." Those praise-filled words spurred Rafayel on, determined to bring her to heights of rapture she had never known before. Feeling her legs tremble around him, Rafayel reached down and threw one of her thighs over his shoulder, changing the angle of their coupling. He plunged even deeper into her, striking that secret, hidden spot within her core that made her see stars explode behind her eyelids. (Y/N)'s moans escalated to a fever pitch, growing louder, more wanton, more devastatingly erotic. If Rafayel had loved the lyrical sound of her singing voice, he was utterly obsessed with the debauched symphony of her moans, each one a testament to the pleasure he brought her. He reveled in the way her body responded to his, the way her walls clenched and fluttered around his pistoning length, drawing him ever deeper into her silken heat. Rafayel knew he would never tire of worshipping her like this, of reducing this beautiful, incredible woman to a writhing, mewling creature of pure sensation and desire - all because of him. "Fuck, I'm close," Rafayel groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his impending release. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her waist, gripping her tightly as he pistoned into her with wild abandon. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him down into a searing, desperate kiss. She poured all her passion, all her desire, all her impending ecstasy into that kiss, her tongue dancing with his in a sensual battle for dominance. As she broke the kiss, she whispered against his lips, her voice hot and heavy with need. "Me too, Rafayel. Come on, come for me, Rafayel." The way she breathed out his name, like a prayer and a command intertwined, was his undoing. With a hoarse cry of her name, Rafayel surged forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside her as his release overtook him. His body shuddered and jerked above her as he spilled his hot seed deep within her clenching walls, each pulse of his cock sending bolts of electricity through her veins. (Y/N) let out a sharp cry, her back arching off the bed as her own climax crashed over her, her inner muscles rippling and grasping at Rafayel, milking him for every last drop of his essence. They stayed locked together, trembling and gasping, riding out the aftershocks of their shared bliss as the room spun around them in a haze of sated, euphoric pleasure.

Eventually, the intensity of the night faded, leaving them in a soft, lingering calm. Rafayel’s head rested against (Y/N)’s chest, his ear pressed gently to her heartbeat. The sound was steady, soothing—like a quiet lullaby that eased his racing thoughts. Her fingers absentmindedly ran through his hair, the warmth of her touch grounding him. Their bodies were still connected, but there was no urgency now. Just the peaceful rhythm of their breathing, shared in the quiet of the room. Rafayel could feel the rise and fall of her chest beneath him, the gentle pulse beneath his ear, and it made him feel more at ease than he ever thought possible. For a while, they just stayed like that, in silence, the world outside falling away. (Y/N)’s skin was soft, her presence comforting, and Rafayel couldn’t remember ever feeling so content. Eventually, sleep claimed them both. But before that, for a fleeting moment, Rafayel wondered if this—this quiet, intimate stillness—was exactly where he was meant to be.

In the depths of her sleep, (Y/N) sank into the familiar embrace of the ocean, the weightlessness of the water surrounding her like a protective shroud. She could feel the pull of the tides, the rhythm of the sea’s pulse guiding her deeper into its vast expanse. Her body was fluid, moving with grace as her tail flicked through the dark water, effortlessly gliding through the endless blue. The dream was always the same. She could feel it, even before she saw him—an unspoken connection, like a quiet calling from the depths. And then, just as the weight of the water seemed to press in around her, she saw him. A silhouette, his form cloaked in shadow, his features blurred and indistinct. He hummed a haunting melody, its soft notes carrying through the water, vibrating in her chest. His voice, distant yet unmistakable, echoed through her mind. “Hello, my beloved bride,” he whispered, his words like a soft lullaby, pulling at her heart. Every time, he took her hand, warm and firm, and without a word more, he dragged her down deeper, farther into the abyss of the ocean. The deeper they sank, the darker the waters became. The pressure built, the vast expanse of water closing in around them. But (Y/N) felt no fear, only an overwhelming sense of longing. As they descended, she could no longer breathe, the water filling her lungs, suffocating her, but it didn’t matter. This was always how the dream ended—her lungs burning for air, her chest tightening as she sank deeper into the darkness. And just as the world started to slip away, she would wake up in a jolt, gasping for breath, heart racing, the dream dissolving into the waking world.

But this time, as the merman’s hand gripped hers and he led her deeper into the abyss, she felt something different. His face, always a blur, was clearer than ever before. The edges of his features began to sharpen, the shadows pulling back. His violet eyes met hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. She could see him now, his features as distinct as her own reflection. And then, just before the suffocating darkness took her, she could have sworn she saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Her heart pounded as she reached out for him, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, the world collapsed around her, and she was torn from the dream, gasping awake in the quiet of her room.

As (Y/N) slowly opened her eyes, the disorienting realization hit her like a wave. She was still in Rafayel’s hotel room. Her pulse quickened as she scanned the room, her mind still foggy from sleep. She was alone. Rafayel wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Panic crept in, and she rubbed her palms over her face, feeling the weight of her own confusion. What was I thinking? She thought, her heart sinking. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t the type of woman to give into reckless impulses, to have one-night stands. Yet here she was. A knot twisted in her stomach, and she cursed under her breath. Great. Just great. She pulled herself out of the bed, trying to steady her shaking hands. She needed to clear her head, to wash away the haze of the night. Without thinking further, she headed to the bathroom, the cool tiles feeling like a relief beneath her feet. The hot water of the shower cascaded over her, soothing her tense muscles, washing away the shame, the regret, and the confusion that clung to her like a second skin. The steam filled the room, clouding her mind just enough to let her forget—for a moment—about the storm of emotions whirling within her.

After a while, she stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, the scent of cheap body wash lingering faintly on her skin. Her mind was still clouded, the image of Rafayel’s face, the feel of his touch, still lingering in her thoughts like an echo she couldn’t shake.

As she entered the room again, her gaze immediately landed on Rafayel, who was just stepping through the door. He held a bag in his hand, clearly having just returned from somewhere. His eyes met hers, and there was an awkward pause—one where she wasn’t sure whether to smile or to apologize. His presence was a mixture of comfort and tension, and she couldn’t tell what it meant. “Hey,” Rafayel said, his voice low but warm. He seemed surprised to see her out of the shower, his eyes trailing briefly over her, but he quickly looked away, awkwardly adjusting the bag in his hand. “I, uh… I went to grab some things,” he said, holding up the bag, as if offering some kind of explanation. (Y/N) felt an inexplicable flutter in her chest at the sight of him, but she quickly pushed the feeling down. “Right,” she said, clearing her throat, trying to sound casual, even though the weight of the night was still hanging over her. “Well, I… I need to get dressed.” She glanced at him, feeling the tension rising. Rafayel smirked as he walked towards her, holding up the bag with a slight flourish. “Well, this should help,” he said, his voice low but teasing. (Y/N)’s brow furrowed in confusion as she took the bag from him. The moment she peeked inside, her eyes widened in surprise.

The dress inside was cute, casual, yet somehow elegant, the kind of thing she would wear for a nice, relaxed day out. It wasn’t something she’d expect to see in a hotel room after a night like the one they had. She glanced up at Rafayel, puzzled. “What’s this for?” He shrugged nonchalantly, sitting down on the couch, his gaze flicking over her before he looked at the clock on the wall. “Figured I could at least take you out for breakfast…” He paused, giving a small chuckle as he realized the time. “Well, lunch, I guess.” He shot her a half-grin, his eyes a little softer now. “Time got away from us, huh?” (Y/N) stood there for a moment, the weight of the dress in her hands pulling her attention back to the small surprise in front of her. Breakfast? Lunch? It didn’t matter, really. She had expected this morning to be awkward, yet Rafayel had somehow managed to make it seem… normal. She found herself smiling, despite the whirlwind of emotions she still hadn’t fully processed. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?” she said, her tone playful as she moved toward the bed to slip into the dress. “I guess I’ll take you up on that offer, then.” She winked at him as she closed the door to the bathroom behind her, her heart beating a little faster than usual. Rafayel chuckled softly to himself, sinking further into the couch. “You know, I’m actually pretty good at this whole ‘making people feel at ease’ thing,” he called out, his voice muffled through the closed bathroom door. (Y/N) rolled her eyes with a soft laugh, her nerves already calming at his ease.

(Y/N) slipped into the dress, admiring how it fit her perfectly. It wasn’t too tight or too loose, the fabric hugging her in all the right places. As she checked herself out in the mirror, she couldn’t help but smile. It was a simple dress, but there was something about it that made her feel both elegant and comfortable. She twirled in front of the mirror, her laughter light and carefree. Exiting the bathroom, she stepped into the room and gave Rafayel a playful spin, the dress flowing gracefully around her. He chuckled, his eyes lingering on her for a moment too long before he opened his mouth to say something.

But before he could get a word out, her phone rang, shattering the brief moment of calm. Rafayel handed it to her, his expression curious as he watched her face change. (Y/N) glanced at the screen and her expression immediately dropped. “Shit, Elliot is gonna kill me,” she muttered under her breath, irritation and a hint of panic creeping into her tone. Rafayel raised an eyebrow, his amusement from earlier slipping into mild confusion. “Boyfriend?” he asked, glancing at her with a teasing look. (Y/N) shot him an offended look, holding the phone to her ear but not yet answering. “What kind of woman do you think I am?” she scoffed, a playful edge to her voice. “It’s my manager.” She took the call, trying to mask her growing frustration with a forced smile, knowing full well that Elliot was probably already fuming at her unprofessionalism. (Y/N) smiled innocently, making sure to keep her voice light as she ignored the fact that Elliot couldn’t see her.

“Heey, Elliot!” she chuckled awkwardly, trying to brush off the tension. Elliot, however, wasn’t having it. She could hear him let out a deep sigh on the other end. “(Y/N), where are you?” She narrowed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek, knowing the conversation wasn’t going to be pretty. “Funny story, actually—” But before she could get any further, Elliot cut her off. “Actually, scratch that. I know where you are. Everyone saw you leave with the artist last night. Come on, (Y/N), a one-night stand with a painter? When I told you to work on your public image, this is not what I meant!” (Y/N) sighed deeply, rolling her eyes as she stepped into the bathroom for more privacy. She shut the door, trying to mask the irritation in her voice. “Come on, Elli, he’s really cute. He’s taking me out to lunch.” Elliot huffed on the other end, the sarcasm in his voice thick. “Oh, isn’t he just a sweetheart! Taking you to lunch after sleeping with you so you don’t feel like chopped liver. Such a gentleman!” The girl’s patience was wearing thin. She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, the annoyance evident in her tone. “I’ll call you after my date. Bye! Love you!” she said, blowing him a kiss through the phone before hanging up. She stood in the silence for a moment, trying to shake off the uncomfortable conversation. With a deep breath, she exited the bathroom, her mood slightly lifted as she stepped back into the room with Rafayel. Rafayel raised an eyebrow at her, sensing a change in her demeanor after the phone call. (Y/N) offered him a smile, her eyes twinkling with an air of casualness. “All good. Ready to go?” she asked, as if nothing had happened. He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. “You sure know how to keep things interesting,” he teased before getting up from the couch. Without a second thought, he linked his arm with hers, leading her out the door and into the sunlight.

As they stepped outside, the warmth of the day welcomed them, and for a moment, everything felt simple and carefree.

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