#glasswriting

Rafayel holds a dagger to your back even as you embrace him without a care in the world. How long could he keep up this facade of loving you, or rather, when would he finally be able to love you with no pretenses? He shouldn’t feel guilty when you stroke his head and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. He shouldn’t feel the need to tear your heart from your chest when you place his hand over it. 

“Do you hear it? It belongs to you,” you murmur, holding him closer. When you shift your body, Rafayel discreetly moves his dagger away from you. You draw patterns into the leather on his clothes with your finger. “I don’t want to stay here. Whisk me away.”

“Is that Your Highness’s wish?” He replies, his voice muffled through his mask. You hum in contemplation. Like a genie in a bottle, you don’t know how he would interpret your wish. 

“I think I shall decline. You could fulfill my wish anyway you want to see fit.” You assume his silence means his confusion. “For example,” you drag a finger down his back and then splay your hand on a spot, “you could take me away from this world.” You move your face closer to his ear. “You could kill me.” 

He stiffens up and you laugh. “I jest.”

“How amusing,” he says, his tone falling flat. “Your life is no laughing matter, Your Highness. Many people need you to stay alive.”

“So what?” The words come out bitter. “I can think of a few that deserve to die.” 

“Such behavior is unbecoming of a princess.”

“I was never one in the first place.” You had always resented the role. One day, you woke up with no memories and were suddenly hailed as a god. You were their precious princess, forever stuck in her tower. 

You glance over your room in boredom. Colorful jewels glint in the sun, but they look dull to you. Maybe you’ll ask Natasha to fetch new ones from the market. The fine sheets beneath you and Rafayel feel like burlap, rough and irritating. Time to change those out for new ones. “I would like to feel death one day,” you muse. “Perhaps that is my wish.”

Rafayel gasps and almost drops his hold on his dagger. Your behavior today was different, stranger than usual. “What is with you today?” He moves away from you and somehow slips it back into its holster when your attention is elsewhere. Did you catch him in the act? This had to have been a bluff. His palms are sweaty.

(Even if you did notice its sharp blade on your spine, you wouldn’t have made your reaction known.) 

“I’ve been feeling odd these days, Rafayel.” You begin, your knees now pressed to your chest as you stare out of your window and onto the horizon. “I wish to go to the sea.” You turn your head and look at him, finding his almost too intense gaze on you. You hold it. “Would it be strange of me to say that I’d been dreaming about it?”

He doesn’t reply. There’s no warmth in your eyes. “I’ve only known this place. I don’t know what lies beyond these city walls. Tell me a story, Rafayel.”

Once again, he asks. “Is that Your Highness’s wish?” You wave a dismissive hand at him. You can’t see the smirk under his mask. “Very well. But I ask that you pay utmost attention.”

“When the world was an ocean, there lived a kingdom below the tide. It was ruled by a benevolent, but mischievous god. By his side was his knight. She was bound to him by an oath to protect her liege, no matter the cost.” The tone in his voice suggests something sinister. 

“The people were happy and the kingdom was thriving. They cheered for the god of the sea when he passed by. They called his knight a hero.”

“But the god had fallen in love, you see. For someone who could hardly be serious, he had been moved by his knight’s unwavering devotion to him. And for someone who granted the wishes of his people, he failed to ask the one next to him.”

“‘What do you wish for?’ The god asked. ‘Ask anything, and I shall grant it to thee.’ The knight hesitated. Someone like her should have a wish dedicated solely to her liege, but that was not the case. Would he be disgusted by her desire? Her heart quivered.”

“‘I wish to know what lies beyond the sea.’ It was his heart that wavered next, as he realized that his knight’s desire was to go away. This was a wish that he could not grant.” You shift uncomfortably, but he pays it no mind and continues his story.

“‘I’m sorry,’ said the god. The knight shook her head, neither angry nor disappointed.” Rafayel moves closer to you now, admiring the way your breath hitches as he draws nearer and nearer. 

“‘Do you wish for my heart?’” He asks.

You don’t know whether it’s a question for you, or another line in the story. You don’t give him an answer. You touch his mask and this time, he doesn’t move away when you remove it. It falls between you, and he quickly flings it into a forgotten corner before descending upon you.

It’s warm, you think, almost unbearably so as you kiss him back feverishly. It feels right when he brings his leg up and hikes up your skirt between your thighs. You run your fingers through his hair and he groans when you tug on it, earning you a bite on your lower lip. The heat continues to rise as hands roam to pinch and caress. It’s a losing battle for the both of you. He grinds his knee against your throbbing heat and you keen into it, moaning his name loud enough to make him hush you.

“Quiet, Princess.” Hearing your title used this way makes you shiver. It doesn’t go unnoticed as he smirks. “We wouldn’t want anyone to barge in would we?”

“The guards would be horrified to hear that an assassin has come for me,” you tease back and tug on his hair a little too hard, making him hiss. “I’m no fool, Rafayel.” Somehow, he didn’t realize he was missing his dagger until he felt something sharp against his back. “If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve done so already.” 

His entire body trembles in delight. Rafayel could easily twist the dagger from you and pin it against you. You could also very easily drive it into him. “You’re good,” he says breathlessly and is on you once again. 

This kiss proves itself to be more intense than the last, and it makes you drop the dagger to cup his face, dragging him impossibly closer. It falls somewhere but neither of you pay it any mind as he flips you over and seats you onto his lap. You can feel how hard he is through his pants, and you grind your hips into it. Two large hands still over your thighs as you brace yourself on his shoulders. He’s so hard it almost hurts, but he doesn’t want to go further. Not until you say something.

“Give yourself to me,” you command as you try to grind into him again. You can feel him throb through both of your clothes as you chase after his heat again and again. 

“At least allow me to take all this off,” he whines a little and the power that rushes through your veins is addicting. You roll your hips again. You don’t care that you’re practically seeping through your underwear and ruining his pants, not when you can feel a wet spot where his tip should be anyway. He moans and moves your body in sync with his as he rolls his dick into you. “You sure are bold for someone who’s leaking.” You give him a withering smile and say nothing while you rub your clothed clit against soaked leather. 

It’s almost too much and not enough as you use him for your own pleasure and seeing your selfishness sends him reeling. His pants are too tight. Despite all the open windows and the evening wind settling over you both, it’s still impossibly hot. He slips his fingers through the band of your undergarments and you laugh as he tries to peel the damned thing off you. You can feel something rise in your core when he rips it off you, baring yourself to him. “You brute!” You laugh but get cut off with a moan when your naked core brushes against his cock. The friction hurts which only brings closer to the edge.

“Are you close?” He whispers into your ear, his voice husky.

“Please,” you beg for who knows what. He looks down to see how puffy you are and you watch his throat bob at how wet you are. You arch your back and your toes curl into the sheets. String pulled tight, you pant into his neck and bite down on whatever skin you can get your teeth on. He moans loudly, and he would be embarrassed by the fact if he hadn’t found it so pleasurable. His reaction sets you aflame when his hips stutter and then still against you, his legs weak and shaking. 

You move even more frantically, leaning back to rub rapid circles around your clit as you chase after your own orgasm. Rafayel is a dazed man when he looks at how you clench around nothing, mouth slightly agape and practically drooling to get a taste. The intensity of his stare and the humiliation that comes from exposing yourself like this is almost too much. 

He lazily palms himself through his pants. He’s still hard despite cumming just a few moments ago. He groans your name, your real name, and it sends you over the edge. Your entire body is set aflame and then put out with cold water. Your pulse throbs against your neck as your pussy convulses. You feel dirty but the way Rafayel looks at you makes you the most beautiful girl in the world. 

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, your voice hoarse. “I…” You slowly reposition yourself into a comfortable spot and look away from him in shame, but his hand cups your chin, forcing you to look at him. You gulp down your lust and guilt. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“You were wonderful,” he says breathlessly and places a small kiss on your lips. You don’t kiss him back. There’s no regret on what you just did, but there’s a deep ache in your bones telling you that this will all end in tragedy. 

It’s another step towards the abyss that you yearn for but are too scared to walk into. This life is normal, you think, it’s all you’ve ever known. Rafayel silences those thoughts with another kiss. Yes, as long as you find comfort in his warmth, then perhaps that’s all that matters. You wrap your arms around his waist, still bathing in the afterglow. “I’m sorry for pulling a knife on you,” you mumble and he laughs, shaking his head.

“I did it first,” he replies. You give him a strained smile and playfully push his chest. To be honest, you find it incredibly attractive that your life is in his hands, and with his reaction, you can tell that he feels the same way. Your mind wanders back to his story, realizing he never finished it.

“Did the knight take the heart?” You’re lying on his chest now, drawing patterns in it and admiring the sewing on his clothes. The stitches are neat. 

“She did.” He’s combing through your hair with his fingers and you appreciate the slight scalp massage. You have more questions on his story, but his tone suggests that it ends there. Rafayel pulls you up onto his lap again and kisses you slowly, his lips searching for your breath. “Focus on me, Your Highness,” he whispers. You nod, acutely aware of how naked you are. 

“Take off your clothes,” you command and he chuckles before taking off each layer one by one, making a small show for you. You take the time to admire his physique and face. His usual garb makes him large and unapproachable, but when you see the tips of his ears turn red, you smirk a little. You have him wrapped around your finger. Your eyes trail further and further down and you gulp as you follow his slight happy trail to the outline of his cock. You wonder if it’ll fit, and a perverse shiver of joy runs along your spine. 

“You look like you’re going to eat me,” he stutters a bit.

“I might if you don’t hurry up.” You retort and shift onto your elbows, your white robe falling off your shoulder. He watches the way it catches onto your breast. Just a little more and… “I’m waiting, Rafayel.” You interrupt his gawking and cross one leg over another. A flash of your mound makes him gulp and unceremoniously removes everything else into a heap of clothes. He climbs onto the bed and steals your lips once more like a man starved. He kisses you like it’s his first and last. 

The weight of his cock presses against you and you both breathe a little harder at the heat. “Are you sure about this, Princess?” He has you caged beneath him while your hands are laced behind his neck. You look down and blush at the sight. 

“J-just be careful,” you reply and wiggle your hips, but he clamps them still with his legs, making you pout. “And hurry.” The head catches onto your entrance and you almost yelp if it weren’t for Rafayel silencing you. 

“There’s still guards out on patrol. We wouldn’t want our dear princess tangled up with an assassin now, would we?” He inches forward and you both groan around the stretch. “You’re so tight.”

You moan out his name. His self-control wanes, but he doesn’t move until you nod your head, slowly getting used to him. Your walls ache to fit all of him inside but pain mixes with pleasure to form a tight ball in your core again. Panting, stretching, you urge him to move with a roll of your hips, making him hiss. “I’m fine,” you whisper breathlessly and place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

It’s too hot. You think you’re going to melt. Slow thrusts somehow stretch you even more and you move your leg up to get more of him in. The noises that spill from your mouth set your face aflame as you try to control them. You can feel your orgasm rise in your body as you try to plunge yourself deeper on his cock, relishing the sting that the stretch brings in. Your nails leave angry red welts on Rafayel’s back and there’s no doubt that he’ll make fun of you for it. For now, though, he’s almost too excited at the meaning of the marks–he’s yours, forever and always. 

When finally, finally, he’s pressed to the hilt, he slows down to rub the tip of his cock against you and you almost cum from the stimulation. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he does it again and Rafayel groans at the sight. “You’re filthy, Your Highness,” he teases, but his voice reveals that he’s just as affected as you are. For what feels like forever, he continues this movement. Rolling his hips into you, his pelvis grinding against your clit, your combined juices soaking the sheets beneath you. It is positively filthy, and you wouldn’t change it for the world. 

He holds you in his arms while you try to hump into him but he has his hands on your ass to stop you from moving on your own. Bringing your hips down one last time, he finally moves again at a punishing pace. You clutch his shoulders to stop yourself from falling, but you fear that it’s already too late. Your cunt aches around him as you try to hang on for dear life. The bed whines under you and you try not to think about the fact that you’re going to cum embarrassingly fast.  “G-good, Rafayel, so good…!” You moan into his ear and the praise makes him shiver in delight, making you smirk as you continue to sing his praises and tug on his hair.

The scrape against your walls feels too good and he’s rubbing against that spongy part of you that has you seeing stars. “You’re so–hah! So tight,” he babbles. Rafayel is positively drunk on you as he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his tongue searching for yours as saliva dribbles down your chins. The squelch of your walls fills the room as you kiss heady, muffled moans into each other. His big hands are still on your ass as he moves your body in time with his thrusts. You don’t even need to think. Why would you, when all you can feel is him? Your clit rubs against him and it’s almost raw from the friction.

He’s losing himself and using your body for your own pleasure and it makes you feel filthy, but you find that you don’t really mind. Rafayel has left marks all over your neck, and you’ve left long angry red welts on his back in response. You hang onto him while he fucks into you, your thoughts only filled with his cock bruising your walls. “You’re so good,” Rafayel pants out, but you’re too far gone to hear him say it. “You’re so warm, I’ve been waiting for this, wanted this for so long, ngh…! So fucking tight!” He presses into you and stills, grinding himself into you and relishing the way your walls flutter around his cock in response. He continues thrusting after that, but slower this time as you try to catch your breath.

“Too m-much, it’s too much,” you repeat as he goes in deeper. Overstimulation is catching up to you but he can only laugh. He’s a cruel lover, you realize, as he picks up the pace despite your whining. The coil in your gut is wound tight, and it’s when he rubs that spot just right is when you finally cum. You grip him like a vice and he lets out a strangled moan as you try to swallow them with a kiss. He’s fucking you through your orgasm as he babbles and cries about how tight you are, how good you are, and how much he loves you. 

“I’m gonna, gh–! Your Highness..!” He tries to pull away to not accidentally finish inside, but you smile devilishly and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him back in. “You–!”

“It’s fine, Rafayel,” you try to say but the edges of your vision are going black from how intense the pleasure is. Your ankles lock over the other as you try to meet his thrusts with equal fervor, but the adrenaline is slowly running from your body. “If we have children, then we’ll just have to get married, right?” You manage to joke but you feel his cock twitch from it. You laugh. “O-oh god, you want that, don’t you? You want to get married? Have children?” You hiss out and smirk as you say this. “I belong to you, don’t I, Rafayel? You’ve ruined me for everyone else, so you have to take–Fuck–! responsibility.” Your toes curl as your eyes roll to the back of your head, another orgasm building. You can feel something wet on your neck and you realize what it is.

“You’re crying?” You tease him further and he lets out a pathetic whimper that sends your blood boiling. “Do you want me that bad?”

“Yesyesyes–! Princess, please,” Rafayel sobs as he bites your shoulder. “I love you, I love you, I’m yours,” he rambles, “I’ll take responsibility, ngh, I’ll do anything for you, please!” He’s rutting desperately into you, pressing into your cervix deeper and deeper until he yells your name out. It’s the first time he’s ever said it, and the shock of it sends you reeling as you milk him for all he’s worth. Heat spreads throughout your core as he finishes inside you, and there’s a deep satisfaction on your face as you relish in the feeling. He’s sniffling now, and you pat his head, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Your body is already starting to ache now that the adrenaline is bleeding from you, and you sigh as he pulls out from you. The sight of cum leaking out of you is seared into his mind, but when he looks at your face, you’re staring out the window, seemingly unaffected. 

He is laid bare before you, mind, body, and soul. Your robes, your room, your life, this beating nuisance in your chest–none of that is yours. But Rafayel, dear foolish Rafayel. Was he always this weak to love? You don't know, but you are sure of one thing. He's yours. For once in your life, you have something that wholly belongs to you.

“Did you mean everything you said?” You ask plainly, leaning your head back as you gaze upon the empty sands. Your face is unreadable. 

“O-of course I did! Does Your Highness think so lowly of me…?” He tries to look at your face but you don’t bother to even turn your head as you look at him, bored. His heart falls. “Is everything alright?”

“More than fine,” you reply, tone too neutral for him to relax. “It was good.” You sound very serious. 

“Just good…?”

You shrug. He frowns. Did you really mean it? “It was good,” you repeat. Your fingers trail to your leaking cunt and scoop up some of the cum, pressing your thumb and middle finger together as you watch how it strings between them. Uninterested. “We should do it again. I do not know if this is enough to get me pregnant.” You have him wrapped around your finger and you both know it. You feel for your heartbeat and wonder if you’ll ever find it. You want to ask Rafayel if he could search for it. 

He looks like he’s going to cry again and you smile serenely, opening your arms to embrace him as the tears flow. A Lemurian’s tears are precious, and you realize that he might be your greatest treasure. “Would you prove your love for me, Rafayel?” You coo and place a soft kiss on his cheek. Despite the warmth between your bodies, none of it reaches your voice. 

He should pull away. He should shove himself off you and tell you that you’re being ridiculous, that you’re being too cold, that he wants a response to his love. But he can’t. Rafayel isn’t brave, and so he sniffles while you soothe him, allowing himself to give in to your poison that is your kiss.