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“Cutie.” Rafayel’s whine was a wanting thing as he squirmed restlessly beneath you. Warm light from the bedside lamp spilt over your shared bed and down his body, bathing his skin in a warm glow. Curls of his hair fanned around his head like a halo. “You’re being mean.”
You were situated between his spread legs, your hands and knees denting the duvet. Red ribbon fastened his wrists to your headboard. This time, you’d made sure to research knots that were both easy to unfasten, but more secure than your previous attempts. The colour looked stunning contrasted against his skin. You’d had enough of it to tie a bow.
“‘m not being mean,” you murmured as your right hand ghosted your nails up his chest. It was mesmerising to see how goosebumps rose in their wake. “You’re being impatient.”
Your hands settled against the duvet on either side of him so you could lower your head to plant a kiss against his sternum. It was just a whisper of pressure; a contrast to the way you’d marked up his neck. The warmth of his skin made you leave another. And another. The way he arched into the press of your lips had heat dripping down your spine. Your fingers dug into the divots of his hips as you lowered them back to the duvet. He whined in protest.
“Touch me, please.”
“I am touching you,” you said, lolling out your tongue and dragging it over his pec to prove your point. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you could feel the thrum of his pulse beneath your tongue. It was addicting; the look and feel and taste of him like this.
“Mngh. You know- ah fuck- you know that’s not what I-“
You rolled your tongue over his nipple to coax a whimper from his throat. His hands clenched into fists and the bed creaked as he shifted, but he didn’t struggle against the bindings. He knew how this game played out by now. You both did.
“What was that?” You asked, closing your lips around it and sucking before he even had a chance to open his mouth. His hips jerked in a futile attempt to find friction. Cute. A condescending hum vibrated from your throat, dragging a grunt from his pretty lips. “Poor thing. Can’t even think straight, can you?”
He let out something strangled between a moan and a laugh. “And whose fault is that?”
“Mine.”
Featherlight kisses and kitten licks trailed across his chest, from one half of his rib cage to the other. The surface of his skin tasted different to yours. It held a tang of something sweeter or wilder. Something you had no idea what to name. The scent of him was divine.
“Are you trying to torture me?” Rafayel tilted his head forward so he could make eye contact with you while you grazed your teeth over his right nipple. His irises burned pink. They matched the pretty flush of his ears.
“Stop complaining. You tease me all the time.”
He huffed. “Nu-uh. Not all the time. Only until you beg. I’m begging and you’re not doing anything about it. You’re being very cruel.”
You sucked harshly, causing his body to jerk beneath yours as his eyes rolled back. His parted lips did nothing to suppress his low sounds. You wanted so badly to grind against his thigh or snake a hand down to take the edge off, but you didn’t.
Your lips parted from his chest with a wet pop. His hips shifted again, more desperate this time, so you reached for his chin with a hand.
“Rafayel,” you said firmly, ignoring the interest your body displayed to the dazed look on his face. You made sure your voice was commanding when you spoke next. “Relax. Don’t move.”
You saw the way his body obeyed before his mind had caught up to what you’d done. The mark- your bond mark on his body, yours- glowed red. There was a flicker of surprise, then frustration on his face and then you were leaning down and tracing the pattern on his chest with your tongue. Something strangled crawled from your throat at the heat of it, at the way his muscles softened beneath your touch. His legs had been parted with you slotted between them, but now they’d fallen open, exposing him completely.
“Fuck,” you breathed when you lifted your head. It was still glowing, a little dimmer now that he’d obeyed it, but it was still hot. The flesh over it was damp with your saliva. It wasn’t enough.
“Was that really necessary?” Rafayel asked when your gaze flickered to his. He wore a petulant expression, but didn’t seem properly upset.
“Yes,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. You were crawling up over his body with your gaze fixed on the mark. “It was necessary. Completely necessary.”
Rafayel huffed, but you didn’t pay too much attention to that. Not when you were straddling his chest and slotting yourself over it. A breathless moan left your lips as the heat of the mark seeped into your cunt. You weren’t usually into temperature play, but knowing this was something imbedded into the essence of his being, knowing this was a bond that coursed deeper than emotion, had you shifting back and forth.
“Fuck, cutie.” His voice was husky. Ruined. You hadn’t even touched him properly and he was ruined for you. Because of you.
When you opened your eyes to look at him, he was already watching you with awe. You didn’t have it in you to be embarrassed. Not right now. Not after everything you’d done together. Instead, you reached for his face and slipped a hand into his hair. When you tugged, he moaned softly, his eyelids fluttering.
“You’re mine,” you said, pouring as much emotion into the words as you could. You’d already branded Rafayel for eternity, but you wanted to stake your claim on him this way too. To mark him. Stain him with your scent. He was yours. He was yours, yours, yours. He had to understand this. He had to. “All mine. Only mine.”
He nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, yours. I’m yours. You have me. All of me.”
A soft sound left your lips. You could probably come like this on his chest. He’d probably let you. He let you get away with a lot when you got like this.
You lifted yourself from his skin anyway, whining softly at the loss of friction. You’d told him you’d take care of him first. That was usually how these things went; he let you push him fairly far before he snapped. Sometimes, when he was less desperate for control, he let you manhandle him and take him however you wanted. He let you lead for as long as you needed. Other times, you barely got a word in before he was pressing you back into a wall and rutting a thigh between your legs. Before his mouth was on yours and he kissed you like he was starving for you. Like it was your last day alive.
He grunted roughly at the sight left behind when you crawled back down between his legs.
“You like it that much?” There was something like wonder in his voice. You lifted a hand to press your thumb against the slick surface over the mark.
“I do,” you said. The drag of your thumb smeared your scent in its path. With it, you traced the pattern of his mark and then spread it to the nipple you’d neglected. The mark flared at that. Rafayel moaned something pitiful.
“You’re- ngh- having too much fun with this.”
“I learnt from the best.”
“Haven’t you ever heard the saying ‘do as I say and not as I do’?”
“Nope. Never heard of it.” You lifted your thumb to his face and pressed it against his bottom lip. “Clean.”
It was probably counterintuitive to ask him to clean something you’d be using later, but how could you not when he looked so pretty with your thumb in his mouth? You pressed it against his tongue just to feel the way he curled it around you. Just to watch his gaze gloss over slightly. Your index finger supported his chin as you dragged your thumb from his tongue to his molars. They were slightly sharper than a human’s. You didn’t care.
“Wish I had a cock,” you breathed, rocking your thumb in and out of his mouth. His tongue swirled against it. “You’d look so pretty taking it. You’d swallow for me, wouldn’t you? Take it all? Show me you’re mine?”
Rafayel’s pupils were blown out when he looked at you again. The flush that had started at his ears was now bleeding to his cheeks. He’d always blushed easily. You slipped your thumb from his mouth to drag it over his bottom lip and toward his chin, leaving a translucent shine behind. He panted properly then with his mouth dropped open.
“I’d mark you up,” you continued, drifting your thumb over his neck to the protrusion of his adams apple. You circled it. “I’d fuck you and pull out to finish on your body.” Your hand slipped over his chest. “Here.” You pressed your palm to the dent beneath his sternum. He whimpered. “Yeah? You want that? Or would you want it lower?” Your palm slid down his abdomen, past his navel. The wiry purple hairs of his happy trail settled beneath your palm. “Would you want it here?”
“Why’re you still teasing me?” he said, his voice rough. “I’ve been good. I did what you asked. I’m staying still like you wanted me to.”
“I had to command you,” you tutted, pressing a little more firmly against that spot. The mark pulsed. “I wouldn’t call that ‘being good’.”
“Then un-command it. Let me prove I can be good, if that’ll make touch me properly.”
You sat back on your haunches, dragging both your hands to settle on his upper thighs. He’d trimmed down most of his wiry hair here. Not to the point of it being bare, just so it was short enough to expose him properly. Your gaze lingered on his swollen clit and the translucent mess drooling from his pussy. It had already dribbled down to your duvet. You probably should have put a towel out before you started, but you’d been a little preoccupied to think of that.
“What if I like you like this?” You asked Rafayel, your hands squeezing the meat of his thighs. He let out a pathetic sound. “Open for me. Relaxed. Pliant.”
“Isn’t it more satisfying when I’m choosing to be all of those things?”
Your hands slid higher on his thighs. “You know what to say if you actually want it gone.” Your fingers parted his labia and you watched the way he twitched at the attention. Your gaze flickered to his face. He was avoiding your eyes, his brows furrowed. “That’s what I thought.” You pressed your thumb to his hole to gather the mess he’d made for you. Because of you. “You like this. You like being at my mercy. Having me toy with you like this.”
You smeared his moisturise against his clit, savouring the moan it forced from his lips.
“You’re so sensitive,” you murmured. “So pretty.”
You indulged him for a few more circles before removing your hands so you could shift down the bed. Your left arm slipped under his thigh so you could knead the meat of it. Your right hand was parting him so you could admire him from this close.
It was strange to find another person’s genitalia pretty, especially when you found yours weird, at best, and gross, at worst. You leaned forward to inhale his scent. It was sweeter than yours, but there was always a subtler hint of something lingered like the ocean’s spray. The temptation of it had you leaning toward to get a taste.
The first stripe you licked up his cunt had you both moaning. Usually, he’d writhe against you and you’d have to keep his hips pinned to the bed, but today he could only lie there and take it. Take everything you gave him. You groaned at the taste and feel of him. He was so wet and warm. All for you. All because of you.
You lapped against his hole to lick up the taste of him. You wanted his scent staining your tongue, your teeth, your throat. You wanted to swallow it down and have a piece of him inside you so he could be just as much of you as you were of him. Gosh, you wanted. You thought you’d die of this want, this burning need that settled in your chest.
His slick was thick on your tongue and messy against your lips and you could feel the way it was already coating your chin. You buried your face deeper between his thighs so your nose bumped his clit.
There was one thing you’d come to learn about Rafayel in bed and that was that he’d never suppressed his sounds. Not unless you were around other people. He wasn’t shy in letting you know what felt good and what didn’t. It was probably one of the reasons you’d grown so comfortable with indulging both of you in this way. He never exaggerated his pleasure, unless he was trying to piss you off into fucking him properly.
“Come on,” he whined. “Please, cutie, use your fingers. Come on.”
You lifted your mouth from his cunt just high enough to catch your breath. “Needy.”
“Been good,” he protested. “I need you inside, please.”
“You’re lucky I’m not feeling mean.” There was a string of his slick dripping from your chin. Heat flared through you at the feeling. You saw him clench around nothing. “Lucky you’re so pretty when you’re desperate.”
You pressed your index and middle finger against him, lowering your chin just enough to press against his clit. Your gaze snagged on his face. Pink flooded his ears and cheeks, bleeding down his throat to deep into the skin of his chest. The sheen of spit and your mess and the bruises along his throat made you ache. He looked every bit as ethereal here as he did when he transformed into the god of the sea.
When you pressed both fingers into him, he whimpered. His lashes fluttered prettily against his cheeks when his eyes shut, but you couldn’t have that.
“Look at me,” you said, just short of a command. You’d had to learnt the distinction in tone, emotion and intention behind the words fairly early on. This bit was at least more satisfying when he had to use his own limited self control. “That’s it. Keep looking at me, baby.”
You rocked your fingers in and out of him, relishing in the feel of him around them. He was so soft here. Silken, almost. You’re curled your fingers to rub against the spongey tissue and watched the mark flare. Watched him fight to keep his eyes on you.
“You’re doing so good,” you cooed. “So good.”
“Faster. Please.”
You didn’t bother making some kind of witty retort. The movement of your fingers sped up, drawing a moan from Rafayel. There was a faint sheen of sweat beginning on his forehead.
That was another thing you’d had to adapt to; the sweating. Rafayel seemed to sweat a lot more than you did. He was more sensitive to temperature changes and heat, but that didn’t always mean he paid attention to them. When you cuddled sometimes, he’d ignore the fact that it was summer and your fans seemed to be doing nothing to stop the heat from suffocating your room. He’d still cling to you like a python. By morning, your shirt would be full of his sweat and you’d have to swap it for a new one.
“That feel good?” You asked, tilting your head to lick his clit. He let out a strangled moan.
“Yeah. It’s good. So good.”
“There you go. Good boy.” And then you were lowering your face and sucking on his clit and he couldn’t seem to stop his head from falling back against the pillow.
You’d come to learn what kinds of things he liked over the span of your relationship. He seemed to have a distinct appreciation for firmer, rougher penetration. Something that would make him feel it for the rest of the day. He wanted to be yours, to be claimed entirely by you, the way you wanted to be his and his alone.
“Take it off,” he pleaded suddenly, gaze snapping to you. “Let me- I wanna-“
You lifted your face long enough to tell him he could move and then his hands were slipping free of your bindings and he was pushing you away. So much for your research.
“Lie down. Let me ride you,” he said as he sat up.
Arousal flushed through your body. You crawled up the bed and lay on your back. He looked so pretty when reached for you and made his way to up your body. You groaned softly at the sight of him straddling your head, his cunt leaking with his own mess and your saliva. Your left hand reached up to grip his thigh while your right slipped your fingers back into him.
“Another. Give me another.”
When your third finger slipped into his cunt, you felt him clench around them. He was wet enough for the sound of his mess to be the main thing you heard. You flattened your tongue for him to grind against as your fingers pumped in and out of him. When he lowered himself against you and threaded one hand through your hair, you felt your own eyes shut.
An ache seeped under your rib cage so cutting, you felt the delicate bleed of it through your chest. You loved him. You loved him so much it felt like a physical thing sometimes. Like your chest had been stuffed full of this love and there wasn’t enough space to hold all of it. You wished you could pour it into him, wished he could feel it so that he would properly understand you weren’t leaving him. You’d never leave him. Not again. Losing him would be like cutting this living thing out of your body, like severing a piece of yourself.
You weren’t sure you’d survive it.
You weren’t sure how he had.
“Just like that,” Rafayel moaned, his voice gravelly. “Almost there. So good. S’ good for me.”
Warmth flushed through you at the praise. He was divine like this. His hips were grinding back and forth against you and you were sure that if you had any sort of stimulation, you’d be coming already.
“Close,” he breathed, his fingers tightening in your hair. “So close. So- mngh.” You moaned against him and savoured the way he clenched at that. “Gonna come. Gonna- fuck. Fuck, please. Please, please, please. I’m-“
He broke off with a guttural groan as he came. You felt the mess of it slip down your hand and drip onto your throat. When he started whining at the sensation of your tongue on his clit, you pulled your fingers away and gripped his hips to keep him there. You’re shifted him so your tongue could reach to his hole to lap up the excess like you were starved for it. Like it was the first thing you’d tasted in days.
“Cutie, you’re- I’m done. I can’t-“
Only when you were satisfied that he was clean did you let him pull away. Your chin and neck and fingers were shiny with his slick. As he climbed off of you, you reached down to smear his mess against yours. To push the fingers that had been in him into you.
“Nu-uh,” Rafayel said, gripping your wrist to push your hand back to the bed. The feel of his fingers around your wrist was grounding, solid. “You’re not allowed to make yourself come.”
“Not gonna,” you said breathlessly. “Just…just wanted to be close to you.”
Rafayel’s eyes slipped from yours to slide down your body. They settled on your swollen cunt and you could see the shift in his face. The possessiveness in his gaze.
“Don’t worry, cutie. You will be.”