caleb’s little apple

You wouldn’t have needed to hold back tears when you stumbled upon a random alley to throw up after having one too many vodka shots, only to see the image that would be imprinted in your mind even years later.

The stop-motion scene before you showed the unmistakable broad shoulders of your longtime crush being caressed, then pressed against the alley wall. When you caught sight of who was kissing him, your eyes nearly bulged out.

What the fuck? Wasn’t she his…weren’t they—

You shook the scene from your mind, willing it to dissipate as if an iron-clad eraser had been taken to it, rubbing furiously and tearing it apart like a flimsy sheet of paper. 

You had backed out of the alley on shaky legs, stomach still threatening to revolt despite being smacked right out of your tipsy haze. A million questions bubbled in your mind, and you weren’t sure why you were having such a strong reaction towards the situation.

Caleb Xia was not your boyfriend, you were the one with the stupid crush, so his alleyway hookups shouldn’t bother you this much.

It's said that when you’re attracted to someone, you start to notice them everywhere, and back in college, it was a rare occurrence for you to not end up in the same room as him one way or another.

Caleb sat a few tables away from you in the library, coincidentally picking the same times to study that you did. He would hover bare inches away from you when you stood in line to get lunch, so close you could’ve sworn you felt the warmth of his body against your back.

Then he started talking to you, and you were done for.

Already psychologically wired to see him everywhere; his charisma was like the final nail in the coffin that cemented your feelings for him. 

Unfortunately, someone had let your little crush slip, and you braced yourself for rejection that never came.

In hindsight, you really wish it had.

Caleb started lingering outside your lectures, waiting for you, then offering you a ride home. Admittedly, you shouldn’t have brushed it off when he drove straight to your house without needing any directions, but you were too busy floating on cloud nine to do so.

Some days, Caleb would make the occasional detour to a cafe where he, rather rigidly, only ordered apple crumble pie at. And when you would walk back to his car side by side, your mind tricked you into thinking that his knuckles brushed over the back of your hand, just shy of holding it. 

How naive you were to think that meant he reciprocated your feelings.

Thinking back on it now, you wholly believe his actions were more of a kindness to you, because Caleb was just too good a guy to embarrass you by outwardly rejecting you in front of your mutual friends.

But after seeing them together that night at the party, you did it for him.

The day after you found him outside your class, leg propped against a wall as he waited for you, you walked right past him. You made it all of two steps before a hand latched around your wrist. It wasn’t exactly rough, but it was firm enough to stop you in your tracks. 

“Where are you running off to so fast?” That adorable chuckle of his almost made you forget yourself. “It looks like it’s about to rain. I can drive you home.” 

You tugged your hand out of his and shook your head at him, “That’s not necessary, I think I’ll beat it if I head out now.”

“Come on, I really don’t mind—”

Never one to bite your tongue, the words tumbled out.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m gonna get dragged into some back alley in broad daylight.”

Caleb’s dark eyebrows knitted in confusion, lips parting to tell you that your little ‘joke’ only made him want take you home more, but then, as if something clicked into place, he froze.

Dragged into an alley?

You had seen him. Seen them. He was sure of it. A hand went to scratch the short crop of hair just above his neck, “Oh, you saw that, huh? Pips was drunk, probably mistook me for Zayne or something—”

Your hand lifted to stop him. 

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Caleb.” His hand dropped to his side, smile wavering at the sharpness of your voice. “But I think it’s best we stop whatever this is while we’re ahead. Just so no one gets the wrong idea.”

Namely you.

You’d like to say a strange look passed in his peculiarly purple eyes, but that wasn’t the truth. They just sort of…went blank. Scarily so. As if you were looking at a walking corpse whose soul had just been scooped clean out their body. It unsettled you enough to make you walk away without waiting for his response. And he let you. Or at least you think he did. 

If love were truly a choice, that would’ve been the end of it. Your eyes wouldn’t have looked for him in every room, heart nearly thumping out of your chest when you found him already watching you. And you wouldn’t have envisioned every partner you had thereafter as having those boundless indigo eyes everytime they looked at you. 

For some reason, none of your relationships lasted. It was like a switch would flip, and they’d want to call it quits. And you, so worried that they had seen through you, seen that you were thinking about someone else every second you were with them, didn’t pay attention to the busted lips and black eyes most of them sported. 

Moving away after graduation did you good. It gave you a fresh start with a man who didn’t randomly go hot and cold. Of course, until that fateful day, he did go cold. Dead cold.

You hated funerals.

Not that you thought anyone sane liked them, but there was something unnervingly wrong about being at your boyfriend's one. 

During the service, the room was saturated in a dark, suffocating gloom. Everyone mechanically moved towards Aaron’s coffin and just placed their hands on it, as if they wished they could touch him one last time. Some people you had never seen before were sobbing harder than his family was, harder than you were and falling over themselves while their bodies jerked like they had been dipped in acid. 

Aaron couldn’t have an open casket, and it was just as well because you don’t think you could see him that way again. 

His voice rang so clearly in your ears that it was hard to believe he was gone. Just days ago, he had hulked into your shared apartment with his cap sitting low over his face, greeting you before saying his famous catchphrase. 

“What’s for dinner, babe?”

“I thought we could order in tonight.” You told him without even looking up from your laptop, way too engrossed in finishing a presentation. Aaron closed the door behind him, footsteps loud with his heavy work boots and the sound he made had you bristling.

“You didn’t cook?” He asked with his voice gruff, and when you finally looked up at him with a raised brow, he offered you a pacifying smile. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”

“Mhm.” He moved in on you, and you turned back to your work as a soft kiss was pressed to your cheek.

“It’s only because I love your cooking so much.” He said, gently petting the bear (you) so it wouldn’t bite his head off.

“Yeah, yeah go shower, you oaf.” You felt him smile against your skin before pulling away.

You watched Aaron’s back as he retreated into the bathroom, and a fond smile tugged at your lips. Your longest boyfriend was a man who was rough around the edges but became as soft as a ball of cotton candy where you were concerned. He loved you and somedays, especially one a certain dark-haired colonel didn’t plague your thoughts, you felt your heart softening towards him too. 

You loved him. And one day, college crush be damned, you knew you’d fall in love with him too. 

Feeling the strong need to take a breather after being stuck behind the screen all day long, you slid on your shoes and knocked on the bathroom door to tell Aaron you'd be going straight to the restaurant instead of having the food delivered.

It took a few tries for you to remember everything he wanted as he called out his order over the light pitter-patter of the shower, but once you finally memorised it, you were off. 

You had been gone for over an hour, so coming back to the apartment to hear the shower still running had you at a loss. 

“Just how much work were you doing at the site to need an hour-long shower?” You got no response when you walked past the bathroom and went to put the paper bags on the counter. 

You were curbing your rumbling belly with one fry at a time when you decided that you had waited long enough. Why he always insisted on eating together just for you to always beat him to the table, you’d never know.

“Aaron, come on.” Sliding out the chair and leaving your cheeseburger behind was no small feat, but you managed.

You leaned against the bathroom door, knocking a little too hard. You always got moody when you were hungry. “I’m eating without you if you don’t come out in the next two seconds!”

Silence.

“Baaabe.” You lamented over another hunger pang, but aside from that sound, you were met with silence again. 

You wished you never pushed that door open because through the thick blanket of steam billowing around the room and the pour of water from the showerhead, you saw it. 

The deathly still outline of a silhouette.

“Aaron…?”

You squinted your eyes as if that would force more light to pour into the space, and maybe it worked because you finally saw him slumped against the once pristine bathroom wall.

Because now it was anything but, as a large splatter of blood strained it, spoiled it, and formed a halo of crimson around his head. He looked like some kind of underworldly creature with his once tanned skin dimmed ashen white and his veins skirted under it in thick ropes. They were coloured a bright blue, like a bolt of lightning had shot through him.

Except it wasn’t lightning.

The unseeing curtain that fell over his eyes and refused to ever open told you that. And the gaping hole between his eyebrows told you more. At complete odds with the mess of blood and gnarled debris spurred over his ghostly face, the wound was a clean, professional shot that cut right through his skull and came out the back of his head matting his stringy hair dark red.

Your legs gave out, and you weren’t sure what sound wrenched itself from your throat, only that it was loud enough to make your own ears ring. Knees meeting the tiles in a hard blow, the jolt of pain surging through your bones was the last thing you remembered before your vision went dark. 

A week had passed since then, yet the image still gave you sleepless nights. Your red rimmed eyes stung when you rubbed at them and when you heard your name being called, you almost thought you had finally drifted off to dreamland.

Everyone had left, but you were still at the cemetery, gaze sightlessly hollow as you stared at Aaron’s tombstone, but that voice…the familiarity of it, it had your head turning.

Then your eyes landed on him, and you decided that this was undoubtedly the worst week of your life. 

First, a dead boyfriend and now Caleb.

Clad in a plain black suit, Caleb had a beautifully crafted wreath in his hand, and seeing you needed some time to gather yourself, he didn’t rush to greet you. He just walked to the tombstone, set the flowers down, then wordlessly stood at your side. 

It was just your luck that, along with your mutual friends, the man was back like a bad rash to see you in your most vulnerable state.

Caleb stood in the back of the hall during the service, and your soft cries were heart-wrenching.

It was almost enough to make him feel bad for being the cause of your distress. But he didn’t have much of a choice.

He could blame his actions on the Toring chip, say that when it dampened his mood, it also clouded his judgment and made him act out of character, but that simply wouldn’t be true.

Because even before joining the Fleet and getting the implant, Caleb still had a short fuse.

When he heard that you liked him, his excitement nearly had him sprouting goddamned wings and taking flight. He had liked you for longer than he could remember, so the prospect that you felt even half of what he did made the nature of his crush a little obsessive.

It turned into a ghastly, twisted thing that had his feet following you around before he could even stop himself. But despite this, Caleb was smart enough to know that he couldn’t come on too strong and risk scaring you away.

He needed to be careful, and he needed to be patient.

It was hard enough when you cut him off after seeing that accidental alley kiss, a kiss he immediately broke away from, but apparently, you didn’t see that part.

It was even harder when you moved to the other side of town and shacked up that foreman of yours. 

Caleb was always nearby, of course, whether that be digitally via the cameras he installed in your house or physically as a dark shadow in the deep corners of the rooms you walked into.

It was all going well until he broke his routine and decided to follow Aaron instead of you.

His heart painfully shuttered in his chest when he saw the man walk into a jewellery store. Caleb’s breath was heavy when he saw the man pick out a ring. One that you wouldn’t even like, but an engagement ring nonetheless.

No, that simply wouldn’t do. He thought.

Aaron wasn't like one of those spineless boys Caleb roughed up to make them stop seeing you. The man would sooner laugh in his face and rush to propose if Caleb even tried anything.

So, he knew he needed to take more extreme measures.

Caleb wanted to be quiet about it. He didn’t want to take care of Aaron in a way that would weigh on you too much. He wanted to make the man disappear quietly…but he had put up a fight.

Caleb reached for his gun before he could even stop himself, and even as he stared unblinkingly at the man shuddering as his last few breaths left him, he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it.

He really meant to clean up after the mess so you wouldn’t see the grotesque scene, but with a glance at his phone, the tracker he put in your car told him that he didn’t have enough time. As it were, leaving your apartment in that state made you the prime suspect of the murder, but the police’s power trip only lasted a couple hours before he swayed the Fleet’s influence over the department and told them, in no uncertain terms, to look elsewhere.

And a week later, in true unhinged fashion, he walked into the very funeral of the man he killed, more than ready to console his would-be fiancée.

“What are you doing here?” Your tone was odd. While clipped and sharp enough to cut through anything with unnerving ease, it had a wobbly lilt too, like it would topple over into a sob if you didn’t hold it together firmly enough.

“I wanted to offer my condolences.” His words only elicited a shaky breath from you, so he felt the need to continue. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Caleb turned to you a little, just enough to see your lower lip tremble.

“Thank you.”

Your voice came out a little too thin, and when the first tear fell, he fully turned to you, hand hovering above your shoulder but not quite touching you. A wracking sob shook them.

“Hey,” his voice was soft as he stepped closer to you, crowding in on you. And he was stunned when you threw yourself into his arms, small hands clutching at his blazer while you cried into his chest. 

It seemed you had finally reached your limit. You had come fully apart, shattered like delicate glass into a million tiny shards and turning to whoever was closest so you could try to meld yourself back together with the comfort they offered. 

As it turned out, Caleb was the closest person. And he had to catch himself when he felt the corners of his lips curling up. 

You choose him. And he would be more than happy to oblige.

“I’m sorry.” You choked out, utterly apologetic as you wet his dress shirt. 

“Shhh,” His hands wrapped around you, and he placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “I’ve got you.” 

A hand pats your back, then rubs soothingly.

“I’ll always be here for you.”

And you knew he meant it, because when you were still considered a suspect for Aaron’s murder, the police had searched your apartment and unearthed a couple dozen hidden cameras.

Belatedly, you realised their craftsmanship was unmistakably similar to the robotics project Caleb had all the professors swooning over back in college.

So, if love were truly a choice, you would have sought justice for Aaron and immediately reported Caleb to the police. You surely wouldn’t be clinging onto him as if he were your sole anchoring force. All while a dark, pleasurable hum buzzed along your skin. Low and hissy it told you that if you ever doubted his feelings, the macabre display of the lengths he was willing to go to keep you at his side should silence all uncertainty.

preboom!caleb who studies any of your hobbies. knitting? baking? games? when you aren't looking, he studies up on all of these, in hopes of impressing you later on. to you, it seems effortless, but to him, it's countless nights staring at random blogs online that frustrate him to no end. he rather enjoys it, though, because most of the time he ends up liking it too.

preboom!caleb who warms up the house whenever he knows you're coming home. he prefers it colder. but since you told him you were cold once when you were children, he hasn't let the temperature drop below whatever you like when you're around.

preboom!caleb who lets you slip your cold feet onto his skin to warm them up. he yelps at first as you giggle devilishly, but doesn't move to push you off.

preboom!caleb who knows exactly what to do when you're sick. he ties back your hair gingerly so it doesn't stick to the side of your face. he brings you soup, blowing on the spoon as you complain about how exhausted you are. he laughs when you insist he leaves in case you get him sick, and tells you that given your tendency to use his mugs instead of yours, it's inevitable.

preboom!caleb who always apologizes first whenever the two of you fight. he cooks up a feast to lure you out of your room, and when it works, he apologizes and asks to eat together.

preboom!caleb who lets you slump onto the couch after a particularly bad day. you don't say anything, brows furrowed, and he motions to the space next to him. after he turns your favorite show on (one he's not particularly fond of himself), he massages your shoulders quietly, letting your anger simmer away. when you wince as he hits a knot, he snickers and ruffles your hair.

preboom!caleb who knows how to paint your nails perfectly.

preboom!caleb who buys matching sets of everything instinctively, even when he's off at college. none of his roommates know why he has one orange and one pink toothbrush he never uses.

preboom!caleb who buys hair ties or other accessories only you use, just in case you run out.

preboom!caleb who watches you have your first crush, your first boyfriend, your first heartbreak from your side. he wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, teasing about how they'd never been good for you while you nod vigorously in agreement through your sobs. he shit talks the guy in a way that'll make you laugh while ignoring the dryness in his throat. the hurt bubbling in his stomach. he might be in hell, he thinks, having to watch you be with other people. but when you smile at him sheepishly, wiping at your own tears now, the thoughts vanish as if they were never there. no, this was always where he belonged---even if it hurts. he ensures you that you'll find someone who'll treat you the way you deserve. it makes you smile wider, and it's all worth it.

he just wishes he could be that person.

“It’s a surprise.” You respond from behind him, your feet tapping on the floor of his bedroom as you toy with the small pearls and gems adorning your outfit. It’s simple lingerie, but the design reminded you so much of Rafayel that you needed to get it. “Close your eyes.”

“They’re closed.” A huff of air comes, and you step out to see the back of his head, fluffy purple hair framing his neck and broad shoulders as he lounges on his couch.

A strip of silk is bunched in your hand, and with bare feet on the tile floor, you’re able to sneak up to right behind him. “I have a love spell… I want to cast on you.” 

The sound of your voice right behind him sends a shiver through Rafayel, the warmth of your body almost touching him before you’re dangling the piece of silk. He’s about to argue, because he already loves you, beyond mortal words, but letting you have your fun is part of the excitement, so he nods. “Alright, and what does that entail?” 

“First,” the silk hovers just over his eyes, and at the tickle on his nose, his magenta irises make an appearance, “I’m gonna put this blindfold on you.” 

“This ritual is very complex…” He teases, the pink silk doing little to nothing to shroud his eyesight. As soon as the tie is tight enough on the back of his head, you walk around to face him. 

His legs are parted, an invitation of just your name on his lap as his head nods along the expanse of your body. A flush of pink that almost matches the blindfold paints his cheeks, and you step between his knees, your body so close to him that he can almost hear the soft clinking of the pearls and gems that decorate the lingerie. 

“This blindfold is ineffective, beloved.” Husky notes turn deeper in his voice, lingering on your skin like the perfume you’ve sprayed on all your pulse points. “I can see the shimmering moonlight, the endless tide, and a goddess in the flesh.” 

Rolling your eyes, you scoff lightly, only to be cut off by his fingers wrapping around your wrist. Your faces are inches apart when he tugs, bringing you down to eye level with him. “What’s this?” He makes an exaggerated sniffing noise, the tip of his nose nudging your jaw. “Are you using this oceanic fragrance to guide me?” 

A rush of air escapes you, breaking free from the prison of your lungs that keeps it trapped there. “Well…” 

“It should linger in the… appropriate places.” His lips brush the skin of your neck, a featherlight kiss finding a home behind your ear. “From here,” he starts there, and instead of kisses, his nose drags a trail down your neck, your shoulder, your arm, all the way to the inside of your wrist that he holds so reverently. A kiss, and then: “to here.” 

Beneath the blindfold, his gaze shifts to your face, taking in the way the moonlight accentuates your beauty. Like a goddess stepping from the shadows, he’s rendered breathless by the senses that overwhelm him in the best way. “Until the scent fully permeates your skin.” 

“Even this…” It’s you who is brought to silence, unable to do anything except bend to his will as his hands find a home on your hips, bringing you closer until you're standing straight and looking down at him as if he were a mere devotee to the woman before him. Taking a slow breath in, he lets the scent sit in his mind, bringing him back centuries ago. “It’s a recipe that’s potent enough to ignite a god’s desire.” 

Shining blue scales flash across his neck and ears, twinkling like Christmas lights in the night sky. The silk does nothing to stop the pink flash in Rafayel’s eyes as he gives himself to your heart. It’s his, and yet he’s willing to carve out his own chest for whatever you want. 

“Your scales are coming out again.” You point out, your fingers carding through his hair. Warmth sits on your skin in the form of his lips along the edge of your panties. 

The lingerie, which is a subtle pale blue with adornments of pearls and gems, washes over Rafayel, and his body responds in turn. His instincts as a god can’t ever take over when he’s marveling at such beauty. 

“The scales on my body?” He hums against your skin, his tongue poking out to trace each part of your abdomen that his lips can reach. “They appear during certain… special moments.” The silk of the blindfold tickles your hip. “You should know that well, beloved.” 

One of his hands wraps around you to settle on the curve of your ass, holding you in such a grip like iron shackles. Unable to move - but you don’t want to move, but also unable to get closer as the fingers tighten on your waist. 

Rafayel wants to take his time, his head dipping to kiss the junction of your thigh and hip, right below your panty line, and so close to where you need him. The smacking noises of his lips accompany low moans, as if worshipping you like this was bringing him his own pleasure. 

“I do…” You whisper, looking down at his white slacks. Not a drop of paint is on them, and the canvas behind you is completely empty. “I know.” 

The statue that sits in the corner of his living room calls out to him, and as he lifts his head, the blindfold slips down his face, curling around his neck in a pink lace necklace. The same beauty that he worshipped so long ago is painted in the small details of your face. The same eyes. The same curve of your nose. The same smile on your lips. It’s all you. It’s always been you. 

“Y’know, they come out even more when a particularly devout offering is presented to me.” With his chin perched on your stomach, he stares up at you with glowing pink eyes. The blue is but a sliver of softness that inches in before being swallowed by the magenta hue, not putting up a fight with the crackling pink that highlights his striking beauty.

“And I’m the offering?” More kisses run along your body, his hold tightening and fingers pressing into the flesh of your behind as he inhales your scent. It’s a mix of your natural musk and the sea water fragrance you’ve used, but it’s all a delicious draw. 

As if you were a siren and he were a lowly pirate, he nods. “Always.” His attention is directed toward your skin, reverent kisses worshipping every inch of you in a way that you don’t know what’s love and what’s pure desire. “I won’t be taking any other offerings besides the one standing before me.” 

Then, he stands. “It’s just you and I here.” The muscles in his arms flex as he picks you up, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. The pearls clink together with each step he takes toward his bedroom, and his lips find the side of your neck while his palms sit below your thighs. “No one will disturb us.” 

The moonlight is brighter in his room, with one wall being completely windows. It’s a frame to the scene before him. You, lying on the bed with the lingerie you bought for him. You, whose heart beats for him. You, who can have him on his knees with just a look. 

You, who is his for the rest of eternity. You… His beloved bride.

The blue scales still illuminate his features, the edge of his jaw like a blade that threatens to pierce your skin. His eyes, regarding others with a silent disregard, look down at you with a gentle affection. 

“Is this for me?” He asks, his finger dipping under the waistband of your panties. 

A nod answers him, and he leans down to kiss right beside the strap of your bra. Without thinking, a light touch brushes his ear, the scales chilly to the touch. It isn’t until he lets out a sharp breath that an apology tumbles from your lips. 

“You’re allowed to touch these scales because your attempt succeeded.” He rasps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tugs on the panties. “Now, I want you to reveal your innermost self to me, beloved.” 

“Please…” You whimper, lifting your hips to allow him to strip your lower half of the lingerie. It disappoints him for a moment because you’re so beautiful with the blessings of the sea decorating your body, but he needs all of you.

Lying in the middle of the bed, the ocean waves are the backdrop to your glistening pussy. Heat ignites in Rafayel’s chest, his skin crackling like a hearth that is never-ending flame. 

His shoulder anchors your legs, bracketing the scales on the sides of his head. They are the perfect headphones for the breaths and whimpers that erupt from your throat. His heated and gentle kisses start at your knee, strolling up your leg like a bride walking down the aisle. 

“Since you’ve awakened the desire that rests deep within this god’s heart…” The pink in his eyes crackles in a fire, each blink bringing him deeper and deeper into that desire you’ve coaxed from him. 

The ghost of his lips haunts you, so close to your throbbing need that you want to buck up and chase that pleasure, but you’re held down by his flexing biceps. Each breath fans out across your soaked folds, a lewd noise coming when he parts you with just his thumbs. 

His eyes meet yours, swimming in need and desire yet edged in a slow ebbing of devotion. As if you were a painting, he’s brought back to the statue, how similar you are, yet so so different. A masterpiece in the flesh, and Rafayel wants nothing more than to paint more strokes of beauty on your skin. 

“He wants to devour you. Now.” 

A blink and he’s buried between your legs, eyes closed and throat closing with grunts and groans. His tongue dips into you, collecting your essence and moaning at your taste. Every bit of you is swallowed by him, your moans, your taste, the way your fingers tug at his hair while he traces the ring of muscle fluttering around nothing. 

“Raf!” Your back arches, your body trying to run away from his mouth and the ferocity that he devours every inch of you, but you’re anchored to the spot, a pristine chain dragging you down to the depths where you can’t escape. “Fu-” 

A satisfied hum runs through your body, and as the soft white light flashes across his furrowed brows, you see a man who is irrevocably dedicated to his beloved. Wanting to show you all facets of pleasure and just what he can give without needing to take. 

“No… running… away…” He gasps between long licks to your pussy, the tip of his tongue flicking your throbbing clit over and over again. The sensation of his worship already led you to the edge, and it doesn’t take much until your thighs threaten to crush his head and your back leaves the comfortable sheets below. 

There’s no reprieve. 

Immediately after the first orgasm hits, he just gets more feral. Like his ebb day but worse, his thoughts muddled and full of just one thing: you. Hearing every noise, feeling every clench of your hole around his tongue, tasting every drop of your arousal that is only for him. 

“Raf… Please… Raf-” 

Your words are cut off when his lips suction around your clit, the sharp stab of pleasureable overstimulation biting at your ankles. It shoots up your nerves, quickening the beat of your heart like you’re watching a horror movie. It’s too good to look away, but the fear of another jumpscare tenses your muscles. 

“Relax, beloved.” He whispers against your pussy, his cheeks slick and chin dripping. “Need to hear… more.” 

His voice is more profound, more intense than usual, and you fight back the whine as he eagerly devours you like he said he would. Because he would never go back on his promises. 

So he takes another, the waves of the ocean playing a part in the warm waves that lap at your abdomen. It’s more pleasure that ebbs into pain, overstimulation hardening your joints and locking your thighs around his head. But Rafayel doesn’t mind. If his end is brought between your legs, his senses full of you, then it’s a pretty good way to go. 

“Rafayel.” His full name rolls off your tongue, lips slick with saliva and throat hoarse from the cacophony of whimpers and noises that play on repeat. “I… I’m- please…” 

The sound of your desperate whimpers is like music to his ears, but not when he thinks it’s hurting you. So he raises his head, the entire bottom half of his face shining in the moonlight, highlighting the pleasure that he’s given you three times now. 

“Are you okay, beloved?” His eyes are more muted, the flaming pink edging into a soft petal of a flower as his hands soothe the tops of your thighs. The edge in his voice is gone, replaced by worry and the rasp of being down there for some amount of time known only to the moon drifting in the sky. 

“Yeah… Yeah…” Your breath fills your lungs once more, trapped there while you trace his features with your gaze. He’s still dressed, the short sleeves of his shirt framing his muscles and the white slacks crumpled from the bed, and you watch in fascination as he unbuttons his shirt, sliding it off. His pants follow, the slow drag of his underwear coming with it and leaving him bare to your eyes. 

Rafayel lets you breathe, watching the pearls that accentuate your curves and rest across your abdomen, still hanging from the cups of your bra. When he sits back, he sees the tides behind you, beckoning him closer with their soft crashing on the sand. But he would rather crash into you. 

“Can you handle one more?” It’s exploratory, just as his hands are as they rub along the sides of your torso, one slipping behind you to pop the clasp of your bra. Just like that, you’re both bare to each other like you’ve been so many times before, but this god is ready to become a follower himself. “Please?” 

A chuckle turns into a gasp as his tip nudges your entrance. Ripples of heat run along your skin, threatening to pull you into an even deeper need, and you’re ready to take the plunge. 

You reach out a hand to him, wanting to cup his cheek, but you’re surprised to feel his fingers threading through yours, pressing your clasped hands into the mattress above your head. Once again trapped, you meet Rafayel’s eyes, coming closer until his lips ghost over yours. 

“Say it, beloved.” He whispers, his other hand dragging his cock through your folds, a hitch in his breath coming when he feels your hole fluttering around him. “I need you to say it.” 

“Yes.” A whisper fans across his lips. “One more… Please.” 

Mesmerized by his eyes, you both share a moan as he sheathes himself inside you. From your previous orgasms, the resistance is nothing except a slick glide until he’s nudging the most sensitive spot that rips a whimper from your lungs. 

“You’re so…” He pauses, needing to take a breath before catching the words from the lake in his mind. “So beautiful.” 

His fingers dance up your side, then your arm, your wrist… Finally, they intertwine with your own and join the other set of hands above your head. You’re entirely at his mercy, caught in the trap of his eyes that pulse with each beat of his heart. 

With legs parted, you arch your back, the curve of his cock pressing into you over and over as you beg wordlessly for more. Always more… Forever more. 

“I’ve got you, beloved.” He whispers into your parted lips, the slow drag of his hips pulling him almost all the way out. “I’ve always got you.” 

Each thrust is another declaration of his love, your essence coating your own lips as he kisses you over and over and over. Melting into one flame, the scales on his neck fade slightly, replaced with the real color of his irises. 

He’s Rafayel… He always has been… But it seems like a part of him has awoken, and you tilt your head up to meet him halfway, embracing him with your thighs around his waist, aiding him in each pulse of his hips against yours. 

The smooth expanse of his pelvis grinds against your clit, the slow, sensual rutting beginning a trek up a tall mountain. The previous orgasms were a quick drop off a water slide, but this is a lazy river, going around a track until the eventual end where you find yourself satisfied and relaxed all at the same time. 

“I love you.” He buries his face in your neck, your scent filling his nose, and whimpers resting on his ears. “I love you so much.” 

“Love… you… too.” The snap of his hips comes when he’s only an inch away from being fully inside, bouncing your body up the bed. You would be hanging off the edge if he weren’t holding your arms above your head. “I love you… too.” You manage the whole sentence, and he twitches inside you at the saccharine sweet tone in your voice, despite being ruined over and over by him. 

“My beloved.” The whimper is different, his chest heaving with the pull of his head toward yours, wanting to become one. To harden into a gem, sink to the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again. 

You’re one. One being. One heart. One soul. Belonging to each other like you were made of the same seafoam, finding one another despite the hardships, and always… Always falling in love. 

“Rafayel.” Your head digs into the mattress, the slow trek up the summit leading to the tip of the mountain. Oxygen leaves your body in lesser increments, creating a haze around you that edges into incoherence when you hear Rafayel whimper your name like a prayer. 

The tsunami is more of a crashing of waves, and your nerves are frayed with the fourth orgasm that tightens your muscles and wraps Rafayel in a cocoon of warmth. He’s there, inside you, filling you with everything he has to offer. 

“Beloved…” He whispers again, his knees shaking as each pump of his seed inside you brings another grunt. Twitches of his cock push him even deeper, until he can feel each bump and pulse of your walls around him. “Fuck.” 

Minutes. 

In the aftermath of your orgasm, you both lie there. His hands now rest in the dips of your hips, and his body shrouds you from the eyes of the stars up above in the sky. How dare they catch a glimpse of his goddess? 

“How are you feeling?” His voice breaks through the silence, cutting through the tranquil sound of the tide.

“Good.” A sigh and a breathless chuckle come when he picks himself up just enough to meet your gaze. “Full, and like jelly… But good.” 

Rafayel mimics your chuckle, slotting your lips together in an even more gentle kiss than the rest of the night. He cups your cheek, holding you still while he devours your lips with languid strokes of his tongue against yours. 

“Why don’t we take a bath together?” He suggests, his lips brushing yours, because he doesn’t want to pull away too far. “I’ll massage your tense muscles.” The caress of his thumb on your cheekbone soothes you, and you whine when his hips move and his softened length slips from your entrance. “And then you can put that lingerie set back on so I can properly admire my beloved.” 

A smile breaks out on your lips. “I wore it for all but ten minutes.” 

Sitting up, Rafayel picks you up bridal style, cradling you close to his chest. “Well, can you blame me when you looked like an absolute goddess? I thought I was staring at a statue in the Louvre.” 

“You flatter me too much.” 

His smile reaches his eyes as he turns the faucet on, and steamy water fills the tub. While he waits, he nuzzles his nose against your cheek, and when he speaks again, each word vibrates his chest like he’s reciting a prayer. 

“I don’t flatter you enough.”