JermaOwes110Subs

The first time it hit me was probably after one of the many basketball games Caleb won at school. I was watching him from the bleachers as always, nothing was changed, it was all the same. But for whatever reason, the moment the buzz came signalizing the game's end, as the uproar started around me, our eyes met from across the court. It's funny how that happened every single time—after every game—the first and only person his eyes sought out in the crowd was me, no matter how many fans he had, boys and girls alike.

Yes, that time for some godforsaken reason was the first time I thought I wanna kiss him.

My heart started pounding erratically at the thought. I looked away immediately, not daring to meet Caleb's gaze again, too afraid my eyes would betray my mind. At that moment, I was so appalled at the fact I even thought of such a thing that I was determined to cast aside any and all silly ideas right away. I never gave myself time to stop for a moment and consider where that desire came from.

Afterwards, anytime I remembered what happened that day, I just shook the thought out of my head and tried to just forget it. Denial never really worked, I knew it but I denied that, too.

I just couldn't fathom why on Earth a thought such as that would even cross my mind. It was Caleb. Caleb. 

My Caleb. The closest thing I have to family. It was just…wrong. I had to tear that idea up by the root before it started festering. 

The next time the thought crossed my mind was during a school dance.

One of my classmates invited me and I agreed. Because why wouldn't I? It's not like I had any hopes that someone specific would go with me. 

When I was ready to go I asked Caleb, "How do I look?"

His gaze lingered on me for a bit as if he was trying to find the right words. Then he said with the softest of smiles, "Like the prettiest girl at the dance."

I blushed and looked down, unable to hold his gaze anymore. I cleared my throat before saying, "See you there," and stepping out of the house. My "date" was waiting for me just outside. He was really sweet, a gentleman. Girls from school looked at us with envy, probably thinking to themselves how lucky I was that he invited me and not someone else. He talked, and laughed, and danced with me, he brought me drinks the moment he noticed I was thirsty, I didn't even have to ask. He was…almost perfect.

But…

He still wasn't the boy whose gaze I caught all throughout the evening. He wasn't Caleb. 

I tried so hard not to think of Caleb but I constantly found myself looking over the shoulder of my dance partner, scanning the hall, searching for his familiar stature. 

Caleb didn't dance. At all. Even though quite a few girls came up to him and asked him to. He just politely smiled and declined. So, after a while they gave up. Caleb wasn't just standing there completely alone, of course, he talked with his friends—he had loads of those, pretty much everyone Caleb so much as talked to once became his friend. Or at least, that's how it felt. He just had that special effect on people, they immediately wanted to get to know him better after getting just a taste of his companionship. 

The bright, multicolored lights gave Caleb an almost magical aura. It wasn't fair. I couldn't help but feel his pull, like he was some sort of magnet. It became truly unbearable when I was close enough to hear his voice. He was talking to a group of his classmates and—I don't know what was sooo funny about whatever he was on but—they were laughing like it was the best joke they've ever heard.

Pfft, surely it couldn't have been that funny. And then…I heard his laughter. And I was a goner. I wanted to stand there—by his side, holding his hand—not dance with a boy I hardly had any interest in to begin with.

Now—so many years later—I can't help but think I should've just done it. I shouldn't have wasted time. I shouldn't have cared about anything. About how awkward it would come off to the people around us. About how Caleb might've thought I was being weird and gross. About how embarrassing it would be to be rejected by him in front of the whole school. I shouldn't have cared about any of it. It would've been the best mistake, should've kissed him anyway.

Who knows, maybe if I did, I wouldn't be sitting here, hollowed out. Maybe it would've all turned out different. Caleb would've found out I was depraved and broken and left me. Which would suck and break my heart into a million pieces but, at least, he'd be alive. At least, I wouldn't feel like my heart was carved out of my chest and left to rot, while I was discharged and told to just cope and get used to living without it.

"What d'ya think, Caleb?" I ask out loud, knowing full well I won't get an answer. "I should've ruined our childish innocence, the pureness of our relationship, all of it. Better that than sitting here in front of—" I swallow down the rest of the sentence because I can't possibly say you about someone whose remains weren't even buried with how little of him was left. And I can't bear to say your grave because that sounds even worse.

"Should've kissed you anyway…" I muse as the cold breeze gets me covered in goosebumps. A tear slips down my cheek which is funny. I was sure I must've run out of them with how much I cried that day, and the day after, and…

It's been a week, I get back to work tomorrow. It's been a week, I've been coming here every day. It's been a week, I've been spending the better half of the day sitting on the cold ground in front of two tombstones with no bodies buried underneath.

"Hey, you're here again," comes the familiar voice of Gideon.

I turn my head, expression blank. Usually, I'd say something polite to greet him. A week ago, I'd say "Nice to see you." Now, I just stare at him, so beat-down that I can't even make myself produce even a hum of acknowledgement.

He crouches down in front of me, his gaze filled with so much pity it makes me sick to my stomach. "You know, Caleb would've wanted you to let him go." If I could, I'd snort at that. Yeah, bet. Caleb would've wanted a whole bunch of things for me. But he's not here to go through with them, is he? And he promised, he'd always be by my side. Turns out, Caleb was a big, fat liar.

How could he do this to me? How could he just…leave me like this?

Gideon places the flowers he brought before the tombstone and helps me up. His hand on my elbow would've been recoiling if I could feel anything at all. "C'mon, I'll drive you home, your lips are way closer to blue than I'm comfortable with."

I don't say anything and let myself be dragged away but not before I look back at the graves one last time.

I think again, should've kissed you anyway. 

This time, however, I imagine Caleb reciprocating. I close my eyes for just a second and behind my eyelids I can see it all…

I'm running towards Caleb after he just won the game, he catches me in his arms, spinning me around a bit. And then I kiss him, just like that. He freezes from shock at first. But then he kisses me back and it's like nothing I've ever experienced before. The whole world fades away and it's just us.

I'm standing before our childhood home's front door, asking Caleb how I look. He comes up to me and kisses me on the lips softly whispering something about me being the most beautiful, stunning creature in the whole universe. I jokingly ask, "Even prettier than your FY-26 model?" He hums and after a moment responds with, "I'll have to think about that." So, I start hitting him on the chest and trying to wrestle free from his embrace. "Caleb, you meanie!" He laughs and takes the beating, then says, "You're more beautiful and precclious than all of the world's models combined."

I'm laughing and dancing with him the whole evening. Kissing him whenever it strikes my fancy. And it's all just so dreamy.

Yeah, I probably shouldn't have let myself indulge in such foolish delusions. 

Bringing a child into this world is no easy task. Taking care of one is even harder. It's common knowledge, of course. Still, it's just one of those things you cannot truly grasp until you're actually living it. 

Even so, you and Rafayel wanted to do this. Together. The two of you, hand in hand, what couldn't you do?

You never knew your parents. Couldn't even remember a single thing related to them. Grandma was all you had. She tried her best, of course, but it still wasn't the same. And then you lost her, too.

Rafayel never really knew his parents either. He was still young when he was separated from them and the elders took him under their wing. They were definitely as far from parental as one could be. 

His late art teacher, as Rafayel himself called him, was also taken from him very early on. No matter how mixed Rafayel's feelings about him are, you know now, he was still the closest thing to a father Rafayel's ever had. Just like aunt Talia is the closest thing to a mother he has. Luckily, she's neither an alcoholic, nor dead, so that is a win.

The point still stands, both of you never really had a blueprint, a model of what parents should be like. Yet, you were both trying your damn hardest to make this work well and not just function.

The pregnancy was hard on you but it affected Rafayel, too. Not as much and as directly as you, of course, but at some point he became so paranoid and overprotective that he wouldn't let you do anything and even refused to sleep in case "something happened." You had to put your foot down then.

Now, when your baby girl is almost seven months old, you can't believe there was a life before her. Of course, she was a little beast sucking out all of your energy and leaving you dry. But she was your little beast. Your little (half) Lemurian princess. 

You are currently on maternity leave but soon enough you'll go back to work and will have to leave the baby with Rafayel. Not that there's a problem with that, just that…it's hard. Because of course it is. You got so used to this new part of your life that you almost forgot there is more to life than this.

Also, ever since little Arielle was born, it's been harder for you and Rafayel to get some alone time for obvious reasons. And that's totally fine you're not complaining but still. You can see how Rafayel gets a little frustrated with how he can't shower you with grand romantic gestures as much as he used to. 

Not enough time and privacy for sex is also pretty upsetting but that is something you two can work around. It's kind of hilarious considering the two of you could go at it for hours before the baby came into the picture, whereas now you get to hastily squeeze sex into your tight schedule in between all the other things you need to take care of when Arielle is napping.

Today Rafayel is tired and irritated. Thomas made him attend the exhibition insisting this one is very important and he can't just ditch it on a whim. It's not a whim though! Rafayel is very deliberate with the little social interactions he has. He's not a big talking with strangers he has no interest in person in the first place but today his social battery is at its all time lowest.

He could've absolutely ignored Thomas and not gone anyway but he can't really deny that he has a soft spot for the man. He took pity on him this time as a thanks for all the times Thomas reconciled with his antics. 

Truth be told, Rafayel didn't sleep very well and neither did you. Arielle has been restless as of late—her teeth are coming in—and with how uncomfortable she is, the two of you also are unable to take a break.

He had to hide his yawn three times throughout the evening. Noticing that, Thomas sends a sympathetic smile his way. Afterwards, when all the best regards and good wishes have been exchanged, Thomas grips Rafayel's shoulder and says "Thank you." Rafayel feels a bit guilty, like a spoiled child who is being thanked for not throwing a fit for once.

To be honest, he didn't even have the energy to be a petty brat and go back and forth with Thomas about how he was so not in the mood for spending his evening around hypocrites who pretend to care about art for clout. 

"It's nothing," Rafayel responds, exasperated. 

Thomas gives him another small smile with the corner of his lips. "You know, it will get better."

Rafayel huffs out a laugh. "Funny how you didn't say 'easier.'"

"Well, that's because I'm not a liar." And if not Thomas then who would know all about this? "I remember how our little one was teething. Thought I'd lose all of my own teeth from stress," he laughed. "Solana was more level-headed, of course… And so is your Miss Bodyguard." 

Rafayel can't help but tease, "And here I was, thinking that working for me has prepared you to deal anything."

Thomas looks at him, utterly unimpressed and sarcastically suggests, "I guess you're gonna have to up your game, friend."

"Will try my best," Rafayel says with a salute. They part ways shortly after.

When Rafayel's feet finally get him to the front door and it swings open in front of him, the first thing that hits him is the smell of home. Then comes the sight of it, when his eyes catch on you and Arielle in your arms. Last but certainly not least comes the sound of home. A soft giggle of acknowledgement from his daughter and your excited "Look!" as if the baby hasn't seen him already. "Daddy's home, say hey daddy." You take Arielle's little chubby hand and wave it in Rafayel's direction.

Rafayel and you are only addressing each other as mommy and daddy in Arielle's presence so as not to confuse her. And considering that her presence is pretty much permanent these days, it slowly but surely became a habit and bled into your one to one interactions as well. 

You couldn't help but laugh when you realized Rafayel actually got flustered the first time you accidentally called him that when the baby wasn't around. You didn't tease him about it, though. Oh no, you just made a mental note of it to weaponize later which—he would argue—was even worse.

Even now you can notice his ears get a little red and do your best to hide the smirk threatening to curve your lips. Now is not the time.

Rafayel on his part is fighting for his life. He thought it'd get better, he really did. After that initial shock he was expecting to get used to the pet name, assuming that when the novelty of it wears off it won't bother him and that he would, in fact, not even notice when addressed like that by you. But boy oh boy was he wrong.

He approaches you and leaves a peck on your cheek, then on Arielle's head and immediately scoops her up into his arms. "Hey Princess, let's give mommy a break, yeah?" he says and gets an enthusiastic gurgling sound in response. Arielle's smile wide, fingers in her mouth in an attempt to soothe the itch. Her drool will get all over his shirt, he knows it and it doesn't bother him in the slightest.

This little girl and the bigger one a few steps away are the only humans Rafayel would never get enough of. He might be not in the mood for socializing but it somehow never applies to you. The love of his life, the wife of the Sea God, you are so very special to him.

He looks at you and sees how tired you are. Even so, you're the most beautiful person he's ever seen. Every time his eyes land on any part of you, he cannot believe his luck. It'd take a lot more than some bags under your eyes and unruly hair to make him see you as less than gorgeous. Though, there probably isn't a single thing under the vast sky that would be able to do that. Even if he lost his sight, he'd still be able to recognize your beauty by your laugh, or gentle touch, or sweet scent.

"Try and get some sleep, I'll make dinner, okay?" he tells you. 

A small smile tugs at your lips and you shake your head. "I won't be able to sleep now anyway. I might as well help." 

"Whatever you say, cutie," Rafayel sighs.

In the kitchen, he sits Arielle into her high chair and puts his apron on. Your smile becomes even wider because, of course, it does, how could it not when Rafayel puts on the apron with a mermaid tail printed on it that you gifted him as a joke. After the first time he cooked a meal wearing it, you insisted he needed to always put it on because the food tasted ten times better when he made it wearing that apron.

He could absolutely call you out on your bullshit but he loves hearing you giggle. He says it's his greatest enjoyment to be your personal fool. Damn him, he just has to be perfect like that, doesn't he? 

Arielle looks at him mesmerized when he gets to work, waiting for her favorite part. For whatever reason she finds so much joy in watching Rafayel and you break eggs while cooking. She keeps making happy noises and grabby hands, eyes sparkling as if eggshells are the latest, most enticing toy. You give her one of her rubber toys to hold on to but she won't have it. 

She throws it to the ground, brows furrowing, ready to throw a fit. You pick it up, rinse it under the tap and give it back to her, "Now, don't throw it down." Looking you dead in the eye, she throws it down again. Of course, she does.

Sighing you give the toy back to her but she starts crying, slowly but surely. When she begins rubbing her eyes, you swiftly pick her up and try soothing with your touch. You and Rafayel exchange a glance and after a nod you reckon, it's time for Arielle to go to sleep. 

In the nursery, you gradually rock her to sleep. Thankfully, it doesn't take too long. You exhale and put her to bed. After making sure the baby monitor is on, you go back downstairs.

"Hopefully, she won't wake up too soon…" you say entering the kitchen. Rafayel hums in agreement. You stand beside him and put your head on his shoulder, nuzzling him like a kitten. He kisses the crown of your head in response. "What do you need help with?" you ask. 

"Nothing, go sit down and rest until I finish this. Dinner will be ready in five." 

"Well, that won't do," you say, pouting. You get behind him and start massaging his back and shoulders, you're not gentle but that's the whole point of a massage if your end goal is to relax one's muscles.

"Ow ow ow ow!" Rafayel screeches. "Don't maim me, cutie, it won't make the dinner ready faster."

You slap his arm teasingly and say, "Idiot! Your back muscles are so tense, you need to relax more."

"Look who's talking!" Rafayel huffs out. "Come on, it's almost done, make yourself useful, why don't you? Set the table." He says with a joking tone and you can't help but slap his ass for that. What a brat! 

"Ah! Control yourself, young lady. Just so you know, this ass is in great demand."

You snort and take the plates out of the cabinet. "Oh, is that so? Then I guess your ass can sleep by the front door tonight, since there are so many volunteers to have it." You counter as you put the utensils on the table.

"Don't be jealous, cutie. You're the only one this ass is looking forward to sleeping with."

The two of you sit down to eat, it's nothing fancy, just some pasta alla Rafayel. It's the only way to call it really, considering how Rafayel made the recipe up at some point. The first time he made it for you, you became obsessed with it and asked for the recipe immediately. Then you tried making it yourself—exactly the way Rafayel instructed you—but no matter how many times you tried, you could never recreate it. The taste was never the same, yours just came off as bland.

You even accused him of lying and withholding information. Rafayel got really offended, saying things like, "How could you say that? Do you truly think that lowly of me?" Then after a dramatic pause, he smirked and proclaimed, "Oh well, I guess you're gonna have to come see me more often if you wanna get another bite of that pasta alla Rafayel."

The next time he invited you over, you made him cook that pasta before your very eyes to make sure there was no foul play. And there wasn't. He made it exactly the way he told you to, exactly the way you tried doing it, but his was just on a whole another level. "See, cutie? I told you, I don't lie about cooking."

Even after all these years together, you still can't make it the way he does. 

You found it absolutely ridiculous when you learned that Rafayel was a true master in the kitchen. He could cook anything from scratch and make it taste absolutely divine. Yet somehow, he could not for the life of him make a washing machine work. He was—and still is—hopeless when it comes to chores. 

The two of you settle on a movie to pass the evening. Hopefully, neither of you will fall asleep in the middle of watching it, though considering your track record, the probability is slim to none.

There's plenty of room on the couch but Rafayel for reasons unknown to you sits on your spot. You think quickly and don't let it deter you, planting yourself into his lap. He grunts but doesn't budge. You were hoping that'd be enough to make him move but whatever. If he wants to be your seat instead, that's fine by you.

Rafayel hooks his arms around your waist pulling you tightly against his body. You lean onto the armrest, as your legs drape over his. He breathes into your neck knowing damn well it tickles, you squirm and squeal. As you push his face away, he catches your fingers with his mouth and lightly bites down on them.

You give him a playful slap on the cheek and look at him sternly, like he's an insolent child. "Behave," you tell him and turn your attention back to the screen. 

He does behave. Not for long, though. Just a few minutes later he starts smelling your hair, nuzzling your ear, nibbling at the lobe, then the cartilage. His hands start roaming your body. Your breath gets caught in your throat when he proceeds to kiss down the side of your neck. The hot, wet sensation makes you shiver and a soft sound escapes your lips. You can feel him smirk against your skin. Rafayel then moves aside the collar of your shirt to gain access to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

You moan huskily and clear your throat before calling out his name.

"I know," he replies and lets his hand slide under the band of your home pants and underwear. "Shh, now lay back and enjoy." Your head rolls back—onto his shoulder—and you swallow as the first brush of his fingers against your clit hits you like a train. Your body sings under his skillful touch. Rafayel is an artist through and through, it's evident in everything he does. Even—no, especially—when it comes to sex, he is drawing the orgasm out of you intently, patiently, working on layer after layer, knowing exactly when to halt and wait a bit and when to add more pressure.

Your breathing—which was steadily accelerating—grows erratic but Rafayel doesn't rush, he gradually, almost languidly builds up the pace. He knows your body well enough to understand the cues of an impending tsunami. And right when you feel like you're about to fall over the edge, you get snapped out of it by a wailing. 

The moment is gone, the impact just poof and evaporated. You groan, Rafayel takes his hand out of your pants. He gets up and places you on the now vacant spot on the couch. "I'll take care of it and come right back." You lie where he left you, unmoving like a rag doll, your mood sour with the ruined orgasm. A frustrated sigh is all you can manage right now.

At some point, the crying on the other end of the baby monitor ceases and after staring into space for too long, your brain finally shuts down.

When Rafayel gets back, he finds you fast asleep, both the movie and the failed attempt at sex forgotten. He takes you into his arms, careful as to not alert you to it, and carries you to the bedroom.

A few days pass, Rafayel has asked his aunt Talia to look after Arielle for an evening. She was thrilled to hear that and immediately agreed. She says spending time with Rafayel's baby reminds her of the old days when she was taking care of Rafayel himself, though you still feel a bit guilty for troubling her.

"Nah, it's fine," Rafayel assures you. "She's been asking me to bring Arielle over to their place for weeks." He continues after a pause, "Besides, we have plans for tonight."

"Do we now? Why was I not aware of those plans?"

"Ah, you see cutie, that's because I wanted to surprise you." He tells you with a theatrical flair. "We haven't gone on dates for a looong time. What do you think?"

"I dunno…" you muse teasingly, "I mean it's not like I don't have better things to do with my free time, how are you going to make it worthwhile?"

Rafayel pouts crossing his arms at his chest. "Well, it's a surprise, so you're just gonna have to wait and see." Which makes you stifle a giggle. 

Surprise number one turns out to be a new dress. It's beautiful. A flowy silk dress. Red as a flame, it reminds you of his Evol. It's not too open and it's also pretty loose, which is a blessing, otherwise you'd be worried it wouldn't fit you with how your body changed post-pregnancy.

You change into it and, of course, it fits you perfectly. Never doubt Rafayel when it comes to getting clothes for you, even when you're not there to try them on. You make a show of it when you come out of the dressing room, Rafayel even whistles for you, which makes your cheeks match the color of the dress, so you turn away and sit down at your vanity.

When one of your hands goes for the make up bag, Rafayel—who is currently tying his bow tie—catches sight of that and stops you. "It'll get in the way," is all he says.

"Get in the way of what?" you can't help but ask. You don't get an answer, though, instead Rafayel starts whistling a cartoonish tune. 

You take a deep breath asking yourself if the two of you really needed to bring another child into this family when Rafayel himself is doing so well in that role.

It's not too long afterwards that you find out what he meant. When you get to the back door of the house, Rafayel ties a blindfold around your eyes. "Don't peek," he says.

"Pfft, I wasn't going to," probably.

He takes your hand gently into his, while his other arm guides you by your waist. He's taking you to the beach, that much is obvious because that's where the back door leads to. "Careful," his grip on you tightens as he helps you step down from a tread. 

You have to walk a bit—for about a minute—but it feels like an eternity. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you feel like a silly teenage girl on her way to her first ever real date. You kind of missed this feeling, to be honest, it's really been a while since your last official date.

When Rafayel comes to a halt, your hand reaches to the blindfold but he stops you. "Not so fast, cutie." You pout theatrically, though you're not even sure if he notices. A moment later, you hear a sound very familiar to a flame being lit up. Why is he using his Evol?

"Now you can take it off." You're finally freeing your eyes before you even hear him finish the sentence. It takes you a second to readjust your vision but when it all comes back into focus you finally see a round table with two chairs. There's a bouquet of roses right in the middle, two candles beside it and a whole bunch of small candles on the sand all around the table.

The sun has already set, the moonlight with the sound of the sea breeze truly complement the arrangement he's made. It looks straight out of a romance movie. You find yourself smiling, and wanting to giggle and kick your feet like a little kid. Instead, you turn to Rafayel—who's in turn looking at you—and quickly peck him on the cheek.

His ears get pink after that, which is so funny because it's not like this is your first date. But it feels like one. It's first in a while. All of this is so, so familiar, yet somehow it's like a very distant memory from another life.

There's a whole bunch of food arrayed on the table, all of it your favorites, of course. "You shouldn't have," you say, realizing he's most likely spent all day on preparations, while you were at Talia's with Arielle. Now that you think of it, she must've known about Rafayel's plans, considering how adamant she was on you keeping her company for just a bit more.

Rafayel pulls out the chair for you, his voice playful when he says, "Only the best for my baby mama."

"Then I guess mama will have to properly thank daddy for going to all this trouble for her." The suggestion quite obvious in your tone.

"Don't call me that tonight if you don't want to become my main course."

You prop your chin in your palm and raise your eyebrows. "And who says that's not exactly what I want?"

"You're making this extremely hard for me, cutie." He clears his throat. "I wanna do this properly, it's not every day we get to enjoy a dinner like this."

You take pity on him and shrug it off with a barely audible "later then" that you're pretty sure he heard.

It comes as no surprise that the dinner is delicious. Rafayel goes all out in all departments when he arranges something like this but especially when it comes to meals. So, you make sure to compliment the chef and get him to blush prettily.

You huff out a content sigh, you're so full. It's been a while since the last time the two of you were able to have a meal in one sitting with no distractions. Your gaze lingers on the way the moonlight shines off of the waves. It's mesmerizing.

"Fancy a swim?" he asks out of the blue. You give him a look to which he only shrugs and says, "What?"

"We don't have swimsuits with us." You would really hate going back home only to get them and come back. Yes, your house is literally a minute away but that is not the point here.

He huffs. "So what? We can just go in our underwear, there's nobody here but us." Which is true. The beach is Rafayel's (and yours, by extension) private property, so why not? He doesn't really give you much choice, considering he's already halfway undressed and looking at you in anticipation. 

With a sigh, you take off your dress and bolt towards the sea with a quick, "Last one to the water, does the dishes for a week!"

"Huh?" Rafayel—who has been patiently waiting for you—catches up to what you said and runs after you with a whiny "No fair!" 

Too late! You're already knee-deep in and sticking out your tongue screwing up your face.

"You cheater!" he berates when he finally gets to you.

Rafayel splashes you with salty water and you gasp dramatically. "How dare you?" Your retaliation is immediate, now it's Rafayel's turn to—not gasp but—squeak which of course makes you laugh so hard it hurts your stomach. Next splash hits you in the eye and stings. "Bad fishie!" you reprimand him and jump onto his back, wrapping all your limbs around him, clinging to him like a koala bear.

"I demand a rematch," Rafayel says turning his head to yours, currently resting on his shoulder.

"Fiiine," you concede at last. "No cheating, though," your gaze narrows down on him.

"Puh-lease! You wound me, cutie."

Considering you're quite literally in his element right now, the odds are in his favor as is. You settle on a destination and let him be the one counting down. 

At first, you're not so far behind him but as you swim you come across a jellyfish which gives you a bit of a scare. Those few seconds you lose are crucial, though, so you come to the "finish line" last. You cross your arms on your chest and give him an unimpressed once over. 

"So, who's the cheater now? That jellyfish was obviously in cahoots with you." You're not crazy, you know you're right! He is the Sea God after all, the jellyfish might've as well been a victim, the poor thing probably couldn't even say no to its deity.

"Nah-uh," Rafayel counters, "I've never seen that jellyfish in my life, your honor."

You frown, "Yeah, as if."

"Excuse me? I won, fair and square. Now, where's my prize?" he demands with a smirk and a tap on his lips. 

Oh, hell no. The only thing he's kissing now is the bottom of the ocean. You fake a smile to lower his guard, then slap your hand over his mouth and force his head underwater. The bubbles coming out of his mouth and his flailing limbs make you laugh so hard you let go of him and he resurfaces again.

"How mean of you!" Rafayel manages in between (fake) coughs. "I could've died!"

"Could you, though?"

"Not really but that's besides the point. The point is you're a sore loser and this is just poor sportsmanship."

"Aww," you drawl, "You wanna see real poor sportsmanship?" 

You go for his head again but this time he's faster. He catches you by the wrist with one hand and uses the other to trap you against his chest. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and your heart skips a beat at how effortless this feels. All of this. The way your bodies feel connected, a continuation of each of other. 

Rafayel's gaze meets yours and you witness the exact moment his eyes turn that dark shade of pink. After that, you have about half a second to brace yourself for what's to come. Next thing you know, his lips are on yours with a hunger you haven't sensed for quite a while. Your hands find their place on the nape of his neck, fingers caressing the short hairs they can reach.

The kiss is too much, yet somehow still not enough. You lick into his mouth as if your life depends on it, as if he's your last breath before you start sinking. Rafayel tastes like sea—probably because you were just trying to make him gulp down half of it—the kiss is salty but not in a bad way. When you finally get the chance to take a breath, a moan falls from your lips which, in turn, makes Rafayel cut short your little break, kissing you with even more vigor. 

His hands squeeze the backs of your thighs tighter and you're left pathetically grinding against his abs. Your attempts to add friction to your throbbing clit don't go unnoticed. Rafayel groans into the kiss and brings your hips down, pressing you against his growing erection.

"Rafayel," you mumble hastily and reconnect your lips again.

"I know," he hisses and whispers into your lips. Then he says "I know" again and picks you up by the thighs. He makes his way to the shore. You use this opportunity to shift your focus to his neck, nipping it with your teeth, licking and sucking the skin, and humming to yourself in delight.

"Fuck," Rafayel huffs, "Cutie, please…" You're not sure what exactly he's asking for, you're not even sure he himself knows. 

He is heading in the direction of your house when you remember something. "Wait, wait, wait," you urge him to stop in his tracks and look at you. You don't even have to say anything, you just point at the table and he understands. He huffs out a laugh and goes back to the table, letting you lean over and blow out the candles. A fire hazard is the last thing you'd want to worry about when, at long last, the two of you finally got a night for yourselves. The smaller candles on the sand weren't protected from the wind, so they're out already.

The rest of the way home is a blur of kisses and moans. Once there, you get pinned to three separate walls before Rafayel finally blindly gets you two to the bedroom.

Your landing on the bed isn't exactly graceful—not at all a surprise with how impatient Rafayel is at this point—which makes you yelp and slap his arm reproachfully. He gives you an awkward smile and leaves a quick kiss on your lips, "Sorry." 

You can't help the smirk spreading across your face. "What? Daddy can't wait to be inside mommy?"

"Fuuuuck." He closes his eyes in an obvious attempt to pull his wits together and not come here and now. "Can you please stop saying shit like that?"

"Oh?" You bat your eyelashes innocently. "But mommy missed daddy's touch sooo much… Won't he finally kiss her better?" Your fingers make quick work of your wet bra's clasps, you free yourself from both of your remaining pieces of clothing in one fell swoop. Unfortunately, the bedding under you is already soaked because you didn't take them off earlier. Fortunately, you're quick to forget about it with the help of your husband's sloppy kisses all over your naked and ready body.

Truth be told, even though you knew Rafayel like the back of your hand—you knew what kind of person he was and how much he unconditionally loved you—you still felt very insecure postpartum. The changes your body went through might've been unappealing to him, maybe he'd even find them to be turn-offs. After all, you were now quite a bit bigger in every department.

All your fears were proven to be idle, though, as Rafayel became even more enthusiastic about worshiping your body. At first, it made you blush furiously but by now it feels like second nature. 

He is very careful when it comes to your breasts—too worried about your and the baby's health—but he's not shy about showing his appreciation to all your other parts. Like, for example, right now, his hands on your ass, lips on your thighs, and moans vibrating through your skin down to your very bones.

Rafayel takes his sweet time when he gets to your belly, diligently kissing all over your stretch marks. You register some of his barely coherent whispers, "My beautiful lady…" and can't help but call out his name. Well, it comes out more as a moan but you're hoping it's enough to spur him into action. It isn't. He's still just kissing, and licking, and nipping everywhere but the place where you need him most.

So, you call him again. And again. Still, no reaction. You can guess that he's too far gone at this point. Patience was never really your forte, though, so all that's left is to take the reins into your own hands. 

One moment, one movement is all it takes. Rafayel finds himself lying on his back with you on top of him. He's way too dazed and aroused to stop you, so he's left gaping at you with his breath caught in his throat. The moment he realizes what you're up to, he's about to start arguing and bargaining but you press your index finger to his lips and say, "Shh, let mommy take it from here," you look him in the eyes, they're wide as saucers. "You'll be a good boy for me, yeah?"

Rafayel dumbly nods, a few whiny curses slipping out of his mouth the moment you move your finger away.

Since, he wasn't willing to do it, you decide it's time for you to take care of yourself. Your hand is slow and deliberate as it traces its path from your neck all the way down to your core. You dip your fingers inside to get them wet, then go back up to circle your clit. It's been torture—not feeling any relief whatsoever—so even just the smallest, slowest of touches now feels absolutely delicious.

Closing your eyes, you can't help but enjoy this moment; it has been quite a while since the last time you were able to just not think of anything other than your immediate pleasure. Your pace steadily increases, fingers breaking into an agonizingly sweet race towards a climax. And when it comes into view from just around the corner, you're suddenly cut off from it entirely, snapping out of it like a string pulled too tight. 

Eyes flying open, you want to curse Rafayel for doing this to you but he's already switched your positions and just a moment later you feel his hot, wet mouth taking your fingers' place. He relentlessly bullies your clit with his tongue—so hard that your orgasm is about to crash into you in full force. You cry out, your body shuddering, as you hear him guide you through it, "Yeah, come for daddy, just like that. Good girl."

When you're able to catch your breath again, your eyes find Rafayel's smug face. He doesn't give you the chance to come up with what to say because next thing you know he's pushing his cock inside of you. When did he even take his underwear off? Ah, whatever, doesn't really matter now.

He's slow at first, just like he always is—or, was before the the baby cut your alone time very short—it feels good, being stretched like this and feeling pressure in all the right places. Then he picks up speed all at once and it just becomes too much—these last few months due to lack of time orgasms became this one and done thing, so being worked towards the second one right after the first feels like too much, too soon.

You try to distract yourself by focusing on Rafayel's breathing, matching it even. He sucks air in, then heaves it out, it's almost rhythmic, in sync with his thrusts. Your cheeks are on fire, it's so hot in the room, you're holding onto consciousness for your dear life, it's all just too much. The stars over your head draw your attention, so you fix your gaze on them, counting and recounting the ones that aren't obscured by clouds, as Rafayel pounds into you with newfound vigor. 

Okay, you need to come now. And since the orgasm is just out of reach, you let your hand wander down your body. It's slapped away before it reaches its destination, though.

Your voice comes out as a raspy whine, "Raf—Rafayel, pleeease…"

And then he does something you verbally and loudly curse him for. Stops altogether.

"Hm," he muses, "I don't think, addressing me by my name cuts it. Try again." Meanwhile, his hands draw patterns all over your thighs.

This little—

Your train of thought is cut off by the slight circular movement of Rafayel's hips, a reminder to be good and do as he says.

"I wanna come, please…" Rafayel looks up to you and raises his brows in silent anticipation. "…da—" The moment the first syllable is out of your mouth, Rafayel thrusts into you so hard, you're pretty sure you see stars above your head that weren't there before. The rest of the word is basically punched out of you, "—ddy."

After that you repeat the word like it's your personal prayer and curse, all-in-one. By the time Rafayel finally touches your clit, you're pretty much incoherent, your mutterings barely making any sense. When you finally come you can't even hear what Rafayel is whispering into your ear. You get the general idea, though. He guides you through your high, just like he always does. The problem is he doesn't stop. 

He keeps rubbing on the little bundle of nerves and thrusting into you at the speed that you're pretty sure is inhuman. The overstimulation has you tearing up—salty, wet tracks streaming down your face. Rafayel licks your tears off your skin, tracing their path to your ears and taking his time to play with them, as well.

How has he not come yet is beyond you.

"Daddy, please," you need to put an end to this. So, the ace up your sleeve it is. "Please, mommy wants to have more of daddy's babies." The next part you breathe right into his ear, "Won't you come right inside me, so I get to have more of your babies?"

Actually, you've been on birth control ever since you started having sex again after giving birth and Rafayel knows it as well as you. It doesn't matter, though. The damage has already been done and Rafayel crumbles and comes undone under the weight of it with a "fuck" huffed under his breath.

He still doesn't pull out of you, even when his erratic movements come to a stop. He presses his forehead to yours and tries to catch his breath. He nibbles at your neck and breasts as if trying to find something to busy his mouth with before he has to finally pull out. Ever since he stumbled upon a video about why the only saliva touching a breast-feeding woman's nipples should be the baby's, Rafayel avoids them like the plague. Which is so sweet but also hilarious at times. Because he still can't help but lightly pinch your nipples with his fingers. At this moment, though, it feels almost too erotic. A sequence of moans streams out of you like a waterfall.

It's a bit disorienting—not unpleasant, more like…strange.

Eventually, Rafayel ends up on his hands and knees before the mess he left behind. He licks his lips, hungry gaze fixed on your pussy like it's the most mesmerizing sight he's ever seen. "Oh how I wish the lighting here was better…" he says, a complaint in his voice. You can feel the mix of his sperm and your arousal slowly dripping from inside of you onto the bed. He's visibly conflicted. "Cutie, I want to sketch you like this so bad," he kisses your inner thigh, then continues, "but…" another kiss, hot breath against your skin making it break out in goosebumps, "I wanna do this more."

Before you have the chance to ask what he means by "this," his tongue is on you, dipping in between your folds. Rafayel is drinking you up like a man possessed and all you're left to do is moan. It's fine, though, as long as he doesn't touch your clit it won't become unbearable. And just like that, you jinx it.

Rafayel's licking gets you to the point of actually screaming, you try to squeeze your thighs together—his head still trapped between them—to make him stop because it's just too much now. Your hands are cluthing into his hair. You honestly feel like you won't survive another orgasm, Rafayel will just send you staight into heaven if he goes through with this. Well, at least, you'll die happy and sexually satiated, so there's that.

This wave of orgasm leaves you blind and deaf to the world for a few seconds. When you come to, your throat is scratchy which means you were definitely loud, even though you can't remember it. Your chest is rising and falling fast and you feel disconnected from your body. 

"Raf," you weakly call out. His head is laying on your thigh as he nuzzles into it gently. 

He hums to let you know he heard you.

"I don't think I can take any more…"

"Yeah, me neither."

Moving feels like a chore but you still lift your head up to look at him. He's a mess—hair dishevelled, eyes glazed over. You can't help but notice that at some point he has also come again. Whether he was touching himself while eating you out or he came untouched is another question entirely because you weren't there enough to notice what he was doing—or not doing—to himself while he was doing you.

Your limbs are so heavy, you don't even want to try moving them. The mere idea of doing so right now feels like a drag.

"We need to clean up," Rafayel mumbles. You hum in agreement because he's right, you two really do need to take a shower. You just want to close your eyes and relax for a few moments before you have to get up.