Work Text:
“You… Do not have to–” You shut him up with a look. Rafayel gulps, looking at you on your knees in front of him, your clothes discarded, leaving you in just your underwear. His own clothes are abandoned on the floor of his bedroom, boxer briefs here, a shirt over there, your bra somewhere with his trousers.
It is not the first time you two have done this song and dance. However, it is the first time he has let you put him first. His pleasure, that is. You cannot remember the last time he allowed you to turn the focus on him. The last time he allowed you free reign of him, of his manhood. He usually is the one to set the pace and you are usually swept away by his passion and love and dedication to your satisfaction, you do not have time to think of making a move of your own.
This shall not pass this time. You will have your way, if it so pleases you. And Rafayel is never one to deny you anything.
“It's not like you to be so nervous.” You tease him, your hands landing on his thighs. Your eyes drink him in, hard, a shade of darker pink dusting the tip, a pearl of precum gathering at the slit. Like every part of him, his cock is also pretty. Curving up, it reaches the best parts of you when he is thrusting in and out, slow when he means to make you whine, and fast, unrestrained, when you've been apart too long, and he means to leave his mark again.
You did not think it possible to feel him for days after the deed was done. He always surprises you, making you crave him more, if possible.
You run your tongue over your lips
“I'm not nervous.” He defends, sounding rather breathless. You do not comment, only give him a small smile. He takes another gulp of air. “You don't have to be on your knees. You can be on the bed.” Rafayel's hand reaches for you, tucking hair behind your ear. “I want you to be comfortable.”
You lean in his palm, closing your eyes as you nuzzle into it like a cat craving pets. When you look up at him, your expression is darker. “I'd be more comfortable with you in my mouth.”
You watch his chest heave for breath, and his teeth biting his lower lip. His mouth opens as if to say something but then he freezes when you rush forward and kiss the head of him. A small sound escapes him, his hand going to grip his own knee.
“You're always sensitive when I touch you here.” You take his length in your hand, allowing for your tongue to flick out and taste him, taste the bit of his essence. Rafayel's eyes flutter, and he sighs, his shoulders relaxing to a slump.
“Cutie…” His hand comes to brush hair from your face and you descend down to the base, the underside of him supported on your cheek. You glide your tongue up slowly, tasting the saltiness of his skin, and then your lips wrap around him fully, welcoming him in your mouth. “Mmm.” His hum is encouraging.
Your tongue flicks against his slit and you hear a moan above your head. You allow your eyes to close, take more of him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, coating him in your saliva. Delicate fingers tangle in your hair, not pulling or pushing you, almost like a comfort, a sign of affection. “You're doing so good.” He whispers, breathing out a pleased sigh when you bob your head. “Your mouth is so warm. Use your tongue a little more…”
And you do so. Generously. You swirl it around the tip, massage it on the underside of him, stroking what you can't yet fit, but you're braving yourself to do so eventually. You wish to take him deeper. Hear him get louder. Like he does to you. And because you know you can do it.
You pull back to breathe, your eyes blinking up at him. You lick your palm, run it up and down his hard cock the way you know he loves. There's a blush blooming on his face and chest, his ears already crimson. His bottom lip looks a little fuller, and he bites it again when you bring his tip to your lips and spit. You spare nothing. You haven't swallowed once since you started sucking him.
“Fuck.” He exhales it so quietly. You love when Rafayel curses. It's not often he does, but when you're like this, bare and alone and vulnerable, his tongue gets looser. His expression makes the fire in your lower belly ignite further, and you know you're dripping and wet. Your panties stick to your folds almost uncomfortably, and your clit is in need of attention but they pale in the face of his very obvious excitement in front of you.
You lick him, up one side down the other, jerking him faster in your lathered hand by your own spit. You are messy and unbothered by it. His lower stomach twitches and his thighs flex and relax here and there. You take him in your mouth again, and this time you don't stop until your nose is tickled by dark purple curls. You fight the urge to gag, and your efforts are rewarded with the most melodious groans you've heard.
“H-hold on a little longer… Every part of you feels so good.” Rafayel's hand now pushes and pets. His hips move and thrust back and forth and your throat constricts around him. Your eyes water and drool drips from the corners of your mouth to your chin. You tap his thigh and he allows you room to breathe without taking himself out of the cavern of your mouth. Not that you'd let him.
You bob your head, glancing up, seeing him tilt his head, watching you, breathing harder, a thin layer of sweat adoring his skin. “Beautiful.” The praise settles on you like a touch, a caress. You soak it in, and lower your head more, letting him hit the back of your throat again, your head never stopping. His hands gather your hair in a fist, and you're grateful to him for it, but it doesn't stop you from your efforts to please him.
“That's it… Good girl.” You moan and his hips buck. “Oh, fuck. Keep making noises for me. I want to feel them.” Your insides clench tight around nothing, but you ignore it once more, your hand at the base of him stroking faster, with a firmer grip. You whine, and Rafayel chuckles, breathless. “Such a sweet thing. Doing all this for me… I should reward you, yeah?” The husk in his voice makes you dizzy with desire.
The grip on your head tightens, and he's groaning now, unrestrained, as when he's close. “You want me to come down your tight throat? Or should I paint your pretty face?” Both options make your thighs tremble, and you look at him with your eyes glistening, your heartbeat erratic and your head fuzzy from the small lack of air and the strain of your movements.
His eyes darken, and suddenly you're pulled back forcefully, gasping, lips bruised and glistening with a mix of your spit and his pre. Your cheeks are flushed and you blink slowly, trying to sink your head back down to him but he won't let go of your hair.
“I asked you a question. My sweet darling.” Rafayel smiles, his free hand stroking your wet cheek. “Where do you want it?” This time is harsher, as if his patience is running thin. Perhaps it is.
For the first time since you started, you swallow. “Both.” You gasp, your hand still trying to pleasure him.
“So greedy.” He says mockingly, but there's fondness in his eyes. You grin wide, feeling almost delirious.
“I want more.” You say eagerly, and his grip grows lax. You sink between his thighs again, and moan when you suck him between your lips.
“Such a messy girl.” He grabs you by your jaw when you part your mouth, lifting your head up. He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, then a softer peck to your lips, it matters not how wet they are. “I won't last long if you keep this up.” He whispers, almost bashful.
“It's okay…” You assure him, your nose tapping on his. “I meant what I said. I want to taste you.” You lick your lips, his flavor lingers. You see him pout a little, and it makes your heart skip a beat.
“I want to…” He trails off, his eyes falling down your exposed chest. “... Taste you too.”
“Later…” You close your thighs, trying to calm yourself, feeling needy but refusing to yield to his pleading gaze and puckering lips. “Rafayel.” You almost scold him.
“Fiiiine.” He huffs, sitting back, and leaning on his hands. “You’re lucky I can't say no to you.”
You give a victorious smile, satisfied to have won again today, and get even more daring. Your tongue hangs out of your mouth and you keep your eyes on his when you slap his tip on it. His mouth parts more and his brows scrunch up the middle of his forehead. He pushes up and towards you, and almost on instinct, you wrap your lips and swallow more of him. You refrain from using your hands this time.
You suckle on him harsher, with urgency, hands on his thighs, feeling them flex and tense. He twitches in your mouth, leaking on your tongue, and breaths followed by soft noises. He's almost there, you know it. Growing stiffer with every swipe of your tongue over his glands, with a very tap at the back of your throat. You dive deeper again, and allow yourself to gag on his cock this time, his hand flying to the base of your skull to hold you there when your body instinctively tries to jerk away.
“Hold it. Hold it there for me, princess.” He coos, so sweet, his voice coaxing you to be good, to please him, to choke and gag and drool all over him. He pulls you back himself and you gasp, but it's interrupted by the head of his cock nudging your lips again. You don't think before you act, happily accepting him back in, tears spilling from your eyes as you blink up at him.
Rafayel loves the sight of your mouth full of his cock, so much so, he could explode in the next ten seconds. So he takes control of your head, and you, the ever eager participant, let him, your jaw slack and relaxed, your tongue flicking and swirling around him, working tirelessly to stimulate him.
“Good girl, good girl– keep it right there, just there–! You're so beautiful, fuck, I'll paint you in me.”
True to his word, he does. You feel him flinch and then his cock starts throbbing. Your mouth fills with him, but it's short lived, before he's pulling back and jerking his cock in front of you, smearing cum on your cheeks. He's a moaning, panting mess, sweaty, with strands of his wavy hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes are full of love and wonder and lust, pupils blown wide as if he is trying to take in every detail of your face in this state.
When the wave comes to pass, you're both panting, craving for air. You gulp down his essence, his hand petting your hair as you lean forward and kiss his cock, tongue flicking out to lick him clean and hear him grunt.
“Do you have an oral fixation I didn't know about?” Rafay teases, breathless. You him in response, smiling, your cheeks still covered in the fruit of your labors. Rafayel's heart clenches in his chest at what a lewd picture you paint between his legs. He'd never admit how weak the sight makes him, how it gets his heart pumping faster, how much power you unknowingly grant him. Why, he almost loves it as much as when he's kneeling before you. Almost.
He reaches for the box of tissues on his nightstand, grabbing a few and then holding your chin up so he can clean you. His movements are gentle, and his face adorns a small smile when your eyes meet. You can't help the pride and happiness it brings you, knowing you make him feel good.
“Did you like it?” You ask anyway, fishing for compliments, hoping you won't seem too obvious.
“I love everything you do.” Spoken softly, and so genuine, with his eyes so clear, never straying from yours. Something inside you feels tight, and warmth spreads throughout your body. When he's done cleaning your face, your arms reach for him instantly. Rafayel easily picks you off the floor and places you in his lap, hugging you tight, his face in your neck. His lips leave wet kisses that tickle and earn him small giggles he adores.
His palms run up your naked back and you play with his hair, before both of you pull back and lean in to let your lips meet. It's soft at first, languid and unhurried, you still taste of him, but it doesn't matter. His lips are soft and smooth, gliding over yours when you wet them. His hands grip down your sides, and that is when he grows impatient. His teeth come to play, tugging and nipping at yours and you retaliate, biting him back. You feel him grow between your legs again and through your core newfound need spreads like a wildfire.
Rafayel descends, kissing your chin, down the column of your throat, over your pulse and in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He flips you over then, peppering kisses and love and affection all over your breasts and chest, his tongue peeking out to lick and his lips suck your nipples in. You arch and whimper, and pull at his hair, messing up the short beach waves of his more.
“More.” You plead him, no longer shy about what you want. What you need from him. A release only Rafayel could provide. His callused fingers slip under the fabric of your underwear, peeling it off your body, down your thighs, and flinging it across the room. A low noise reaches your ears, a growl, you realize, and before you know it, his mouth is on your clit.
“Rafayel!” You cry out, pulling at his sheets, his arms around the top of your thigh, the way he always anchors himself to you, so when it gets to be too much, when your head is empty and your body is twitching from the aftershocks and you beg no more too much you still can't break free.
You think then, if anyone has a fixation in this room, it is without a doubt, Rafayel.