#gem affection

The question hits low, racing hot down your spine. A broken whine wrenched from deep inside your chest is all you can manage, heaving as each breath is chased from you with his every thrust. You squeal when his thumb finds your clit, pulse pounding hard in your ears. 

“Then cum.”

He circles your clit in time with his thrusts, every stroke stripping you of a piece of sanity until there’s no dignity left— just fevered moans, guttural and shuddering, climbing in pitch and desperation like twisted, feral sobs. It feels so good, so mind-numbingly good— you can’t think, you can’t speak— god, fuck— 

Thighs shaking, spine arching as your eyes roll back, liquid lightning shoots through your veins. Your body convulses— your voice breaks, splintering when he cruelly pushes you past your limit, driving you higher into overwhelming bliss, wave upon wave of pleasure cresting over and over and over—   

“Pretty girl,” he coos, his voice coming through your daze muffled and hazy. “Such a pretty, pretty girl.” 

When you collapse back into the sheets, the world is disjointed, your limbs weighed down by bags of sand, your thoughts wading through water. God, how many times have you cum already? You’ve lost count. A deliberate touch traces a path down your back; you tense, your body coiling in reflex. 

“W-wait,” you stutter, blinking away tears, an answering shiver rippling down your spine. “Ngh, please—”

A soft click of a tongue before his voice curls in your ear, dripping ambrosia and intent. 

“But we’re not done yet, princess.” 

You’re hoisted up, head spinning from the weightlessness as you’re placed to balance on your tiptoes. His breath ghosts along the curve of your temple, his covetous grasp molten on the swell of your chest.

“Look.” His voice is a siren’s call, coaxing your gaze forward, catching on your reflection across the wall. “Look how much you’re enjoying my cock.”

Sweat matted hair. Tear streaks across flushed, angry cheeks. Legs shaking as you’re perched on the balls of your feet. Spread wide over the expanse of his thighs, the debauched view of his cock— the filthy gush of the cream coated base, the sticky slap of skin on skin— sliding slowly in and out of your cunt. His tails fanning out behind the two of you like a rippling, breathtaking bloom. His ravenous gaze drinks in the lewd display with a mesmerized stare, hand splayed between your legs to entice them to open wider. 

Rafayel groans when your walls flutter. 

“So d-damn greedy, your Highness,” he pants. “After all that, and you’re still sucking me in,” — your breath hitches when he rocks his hips against you— “like you don’t want to let go.”

A tug on your head and you tilt back to meet his searing kiss— needy, messy, starving. Pressing himself inside you like he can’t stand the distance of your corporeal bodies, fingers dimpling bruises as he lifts you up. His lips part yours, trembling, breath catching, chasing the echo of a question he can only swallow back down. He moans from your taste on his tongue, the low murmur buzzing through the kisses, hips picking up speed as if he could tattoo the depths of his desperation onto your walls. Fucking you mindless until that tell-tale tingle races up your spine. Until the coil in the pit of your stomach winds tight once more, and you dig your nails into his shoulder, toes curling—

You cum hard on his cock, buckling backwards into him as his grip clamps around your thighs. A low curse torn from his lips, hips faltering—

“Fuck— s’ fucking— good.”

He lays another fervent claim to your mouth, and you feel it, from the quiver of his lip to the slack set of his jaw, the moment he falls apart— his broken groan as his cock throbs buried deep inside you, once, twice— shuddering. 

You’re still shaking when Rafayel gently turns you around to lie down on the covers, cradling your body against his. His hair tickles your neck, the flick of his velvet soft ear grazing your temple as he presses a languid kiss to your shoulder. The faint scrape of clawed hands as they glide down your frame, tracing the shape of you as if from memory. The intimate press of his cock full in your cunt, still hard and leaking, hot cum trickling down your inner thigh. You stir when he twitches inside you, a slow prickle of unease seeping through a distant awareness. A tension, of muscles drawn tight, as he twitches again, stretching—

“I-I can’t—” you gasp, twisting your head away, pushing at his chest. “Can’t—”

“You can.” He gathers you closer, nipping heated flesh, and then soothing it with the flat of his tongue. “You can. You have—” His voice breaks, as if scraped raw. “You have to, my heart.” 

Rafayel tucks his nose into the crook of your neck.

“You have to remember.” 

His fangs graze the quickening beat beneath your jaw; you clutch his forearms, red half moons blooming underneath your fingers. But the sting of your nails only draws a low sound from his throat, the resonant purr vibrating against your pulse. Breath hot on your skin, thick and taut with promise—

“I’ll make you remember.” 

The ache is the first thing you feel. A dull throb in your arms and legs, soreness between your legs as you curl them under you. The warmth that envelops you is next— a more welcome sensation this time— and on instinct, you burrow deeper into it, attempting to escape the slight chill that nips at your skin. 

“You’re awake.” 

The warmth speaks— low and close— cajoling you another shade further from the comforting cling of sleep. Breathing out a soft sound of protest, you blink blearily into the darkness. Ash purple locks whispering down the curve of a bare shoulder. Gentle pressure on the small of your back, tucking you against a firm chest. A pair of piercing amethyst eyes greet you, slit pupils dilating slow and deliberate.  

Moonlight streaks across Rafayel’s face, slating half his face in shadow. He lifts a hand, the brush of his knuckles almost hesitant down your temple. And for a moment, you see it flicker across his face— a sliver of hope, brittle as fragmented porcelain. But as his glowing eyes flit across your face, it cracks— shoulders crumple inward, a bitter press of lips. You don’t see the moment the hope shatters— he’s already looking away, bangs blocking his gaze, jaw tight. An answering ache blossoms in your chest much to your neverending confusion; your fingers curl against his chest.

“I’m sorry.”

The words that spill from your lips surprise even yourself. Rafayel doesn’t turn back to face you, but his ear flicks your way. 

“Why,” —his voice is low and frayed at the edges— “… are you sorry?”

“I’m not,” —your breath hitches despite yourself; why does this hurt so damn much— “who you wanted.”

His bark of laughter startles you. Wide eyes cast to the side, your sliver of hurt collapses to annoyance in the aftermath. What’s so damn funny— 

Clawed fingers tilt up your chin.

“Only you,” he mutters, wavering between fondness and exasperation, “would apologize for something like that.” His thumb caresses the swell of your cheek. “You’re still you, silly girl. I just…” 

Rafayel swallows hard. 

“Do you hate me?”

The hushed fear behind the simple question leaves your mind whirling. 

“Why would I hate you?” you ask softly. 

“Why wouldn’t you?” he counters, voice dripping with contempt— for himself; it dawns on you as he leans away. “If you don’t— if you don’t remember, then I’ve… I’ve—” 

“I don’t hate you.” 

You capture his face between your palms, drawing him back. He stills, not pulling away, but also not bridging the distance, looking as conflicted as you feel. In the stillness of pre-dawn hours, starlight traces silver edges to his violet ash hair, gleams off his claw tipped fingers. Your heart pounds loud in your ears, taking him in— fangs resting on his lower lip, crystal eyes catching the faint light— his inhuman grace as captivating as a predator’s calm. And despite it all, despite the logic screaming at you that this man— this beautiful demon— is dangerous, your body leans into his warmth. Reaching for him, like long-forgotten muscle memory. 

“Who am I, Rafayel?” Your fingers trace the edges of his jaw, your thumb skimming his lower lip. “What do I mean to you?” 

He lowers his gaze. “It’s not important.”

“Liar.” Your body practically pulses with the certainty burning through your chest. “Why are you avoiding it now—?”

“Because you could have a different life.” His hands close gently around your wrists, cupping the back of your palms. He presses them closer as even he leans into your touch, lips brushing your flesh, as if he wants to sink into your skin. “You could be free—”

You’re the one that laughs then, something bitter and caustic bubbling out, before you lean forward to capture his lips with yours, swallowing his trembling inhale. It isn’t until he’s shaking under your hands—small and fractured noises from the back of his throat, a deep vibration almost too low for your ears thrumming through the heated air between your bodies— do you finally break apart. 

“Take me away, Rafayel.” 

His gaze locks onto yours, pupils blooming like the night sky swallowing sandy dunes.  

I tucked the note into my bralette as I entered the building. The place was as busy as always, and I cringed as other men leered my way. I should have changed. Walking up to the bar, I waved the older man over. I could see in his eyes that he was expecting me.

"Last room on the right. Take a seat upon entry," he smirked as he handed me a key.

The small room blocked out all background noise. There was a lavish couch against the back wall, in front of a small platform separated by a sheer black curtain. I got comfortable, as instructed, and jumped slightly when the music started playing. The familiar sound of a qanun filled the room, its melody sultry.

Behind the sheer curtain, a figure appeared. I could immediately tell from the physique that it was Raf. Despite his back being to me, the broadness and muscles of his shoulders were more than familiar. My fingers twitched against my lap, desperate to feel the heat of his skin beneath them. It was weird to see him in anything but his leathers, but the current attire - which was similar to mine - suited him well. A reddish-orange and gold sash draped over his shoulder. Black and gold trousers flowed around his legs, accompanied by a wrap around his waist. His outfit was accentuated with gold gains and jewels of the brightest red and green.

His hips and arms moved to the music...fluid and strong. He was like a snake charmer and I was bending to his will. When he finally turned to face me, my breath caught. My eyes trailed him from head to toe. He'd make a fine ass prince. His abs flexed deliciously as he danced. Heat rushed from my neck to my cheeks when he smirked, clearly catching me in the act of checking him out.

"See something you like, cutie?" he crooned.

I turned my head with a pout. With a sweep of his arm, the curtain burst into vibrant flames, and he stepped off the small platform. Hips still swaying, he held a hand out to me. Placing my hand in his, I gasped when I was tugged flush against him. His toned stomach pressed against mine and a shiver rolled up my spine at the skin contact. His fingers danced up my bare waist. My own hips began to move to the music as I looped my arms around his neck.

"Silks suit you," I whispered, tracing the shell of his ear with my lips.

His grip on my hips tightened.

"Everything suits me."

I rolled my eyes. Pulling him closer, I used the momentum to spin us around and pushed him down onto the couch. His eyes widened briefly before they narrowed dangerously.

"This intense, Your Highness?"

"You haven't seen intense from me...yet," I purred.

He pulled me forward until my knees rested on either side of his hips. Oh, how the tables have turned...again. My arms resumed their place around his neck and I leaned into him. With this new position, I was slightly taller. That didn't mean I was the one in control though. With Raf, I was never in control, and I relished that feeling. No worries, no pressure, just me and him.

"Comfortable?" His nose gently nudged mine.

"Very."

His hands slid from my hips to my ass, and I gasped as he pulled me closer still, seating me snuggly atop him.

"Good," his voice was low and husky before his lips fervently met mine.