Chapter Text
“You smell .” Rafayel hisses when you return home on early spring evening. You’re surprised to see him lounging on the couch, and more surprised still when he jumps up and approaches you.
“I was running around all day.” You defend with a sigh. It wasn’t a particularly hard day, but the nature of your job was a physical one; you would think Rafayel would be used to it by now. “I just walked in, geez. ”
Xavier steps close behind you and audibly sniffs, “You don’t stink to me.”
You laugh at his gentle tone and wave him away, “Thank you, Xavier, but clearly I’ve offended Rafayel’s sensitive nose.”
You speak teasingly, but the scowl on Rafayel’s face doesn’t falter. It’s an odd day when your resident sea god isn’t tucked away in his studio when you get home, and even more bizarre when he doesn’t entertain banter.
His comment on your scent leads to him stripping you before you’ve even entered your bedroom and crowding you into the shower. It must be serious when he forgoes the bath. In another odd turn, Rafayel picks through the lineup of body wash you’ve collected, sniffing each one and scowling until he finds one he can tolerate.
Rafayel scrubs at your skin with a fluffy pink luffa, and the determination in his eyes confuses you. He looks at you like you’ve betrayed him somehow, and so you grab his hand before he can continue his chafing. “What’s the matter? Did something happen?”
Rafayel’s eyes widen at your audacity to grab him. When he looks up at you, there’s an eerie blue tinge to his usual alexandrite eyes. Your heart twists in both fear and anticipation.
“You stink.” He says curtly, twisting his wrist to detach your hand. You’re aware of Rafayel’s power, on a surface level, and the danger could pose to you, but you always forget what being at the receiving end of his ire feels like.
You’re a mackerel in a swarm, swimming wildly as the shark cuts through the water. You’re neither faster nor stronger than he is. You’re hardly a proper meal to chomp between his teeth.
There is less than one second where you realize something’s definitely not right before your cheek smacks against the tile wall. The icy cold sending shocks down your spine, contrasting against the scalding water.
Steam has coated the glass walls of the shower, creating the illusion of being hidden. A sense of privacy that you know doesn’t truly exist in a house such as yours. Rafayel never really minds it. He, like a few of the others, enjoys the idea of the others hearing you.
Though, today seems different. There’s an unhinged edge to your lover’s eyes, something has come loose inside him and it leaves him in shambles. Jaw open and panting as he pushes your shoulders into the wall but draws your hips back.
With one hand, he grabs a fistful of your behind. Squeezing your flesh and looking drunk while he does, like the malleability is this new, novel, enchanting thing.
“How dare you…” Rafayel’s voice is a growl– a deep, predatory sound. “How dare you…come here…like this…”
“What are talk–” Your words are cut off as Rafayel moves his hand and presses the tip of his thumb to your folds. The breath inside you falters, and escapes as a stuttering gasp.
“It’s too hot.” He huffs and with the hand not teasing you, he reaches over to the shower controls and twists it to cold. It takes a moment for the spray to catch up, and when it does you squeal.
The icy cold water is a shock to your system, and reflexively you wiggle away from it, pushing closer to the wall. “ Ah ! What’s wrong with you!? Turn it back!”
“Don’t run from me.” Rafayel croaks, sounding much less aggressive than before and much more desperate. The growl in his voice has turned to a whine.
You turn, too concerned now to entertain Rafayel’s seduction. Grabbing the siren by the sides of his face, you hold him still, letting the water cascade over his back.
“Are you sick?” You ask gently, tilting his face from side to side.
He doesn’t look flush, at least, no more than usual. There’s a pink tinge to his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, but you could write that off from his arousal– which is currently resting against your hip and tapping you in time with the beat of his fast-paced heart.
His eyes search your face and then drag down. Down the line of your neck and collarbone, sweeping across your chest and back up again. Lazy and unfocused like he can’t help himself.
“Rafayel,” You say when he doesn’t reply. Shaking him slightly, you try again, “Rafayel what’s going on?”
Rafayel blinks slowly and then squeezes his eyes closed tight. He grabs your upper arms like he might slip right down the drain if he doesn’t. “It’s nothing. It’s…I’m fine.”
You’re not convinced, and continue to hold him. The temperature in the shower is making you shiver, but you’re not going to be the first to let go. If something is wrong– and there clearly is– you won’t let him suffer alone.
“Are you feverish?” You ask a little quieter. Nearly whispering.
Rafayel’s shoulder jerk, and his head lifts suddenly. Snapping back to himself, he takes a quick breath and turns the shower off completely, “The water’s freezing. Let’s get you dry.”
The diversion makes you frown, but you follow him out of the shower anyway. The rosy tint to his cheeks remains, and somehow gets worse when he grabs a towel and begins to pat you dry.
“I’m not letting this go,” You say firmly, grabbing the towel from his hands and wrapping it around yourself.
“Ehh…” Rafayel makes a whiny, petulant sound, “Can’t you? It’s fine. I promise.”
You frown pointedly at him. It’s not like him to be so secretive. Usually, if something is bothering him, he’s chatting your ear off about it. Rafayel is guarded with most people, viciously so, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. Have you lost his trust somehow?
You get dressed and mull over this for a moment. Rafayel kisses your cheek and then your temple. He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to press your scent as far as it can go in his mind. Although that would normally amuse you, you’re only more perturbed.
Rafayel retreats to his studio, mumbling to himself. While you head back downstairs, frustrated and confused.
Things only get weirder from there.
Rafayel’s already keen senses seem to be even sharper. He refuses to let anyone sleep in the bed unless they’ve bathed with scentless soap.
Your room has somehow become his room, and your bed has become his bed. A safe spot that you have to have permission to enter. Rafayel refuses to entertain sass, and physically kicks Sylus out of the bed one night when the dragon teases a little too hard about him being needy.
Zayne hardly gets a moment to himself, the poor guy. The cool aura the doctor exudes has Rafayel glued to his side. At night, you’re sandwiched between them, shivering despite being surrounded from tip to toe. One afternoon, after another day of hunting, you arrive to find Zayne on the couch with Rafayel in his lap. The artist has his arms beneath Zayne’s shirt, pressing as much flesh against him as possible.
Finally someone acknowledges that something is wrong, but it comes in the form of a plane ticket and an already-packed suitcase being handed to you.
Rafayel is buzzing about the house, prepping for this impromptu (but not-so impromptu) trip to your isolated beach house. He fusses over Caleb’s choice of traveling clothes, and the fact the pilot is only bringing a single duffle bag.
Xavier follows the two of them around, mediating between the slightly neurotic artist and the too-casual pilot. Xavier’s suitcases sit beside yours in the entryway, and he’s been spending the better part of an hour trying to coax the two towards the door.
Sylus coordinated the driving service and the airport for your flight (because all six of you won’t fit in the cars you currently have), grumbling on his phone about keeping things discreet. He’s got Mephisto on his free arm, typing what looks like some instructions to Luke and Kieran about an upcoming job. Always busy, that one.
This leaves you and Zayne waiting near the front door. Everyone else seems to be on board, and you’re beginning to wonder if they held a family meeting without you. Not that you’re complaining about having a week off, but this doesn’t feel like a vacation for some reason.
Xavier is finally able to get the two bickering parties out the door, and the poor prince is exhausted. He falls asleep on the way to the airport and thankfully misses Rafayel’s hissy fit about the temperature inside the vehicle.
Sylus leaves the driver a heavy tip.
Surprising to no one except you, Caleb is going to be flying the luxe private plane Sylus has procured. He puts on his fancy aviators and enters the aircraft first, meeting the other few members of crew that had been hired.
Rafayel pulls you onto the plane and into a seat next to him near the back. Silently, he buckles you in and then begins to fidget with the air vents. He’s so on edge you can almost feel it radiate off of him, and you’re close to smacking him upside the head and demanding answers.
You feel the plane whir to life beneath you. The intercom overhead statics before Caleb’s voice comes through, slightly muffled, “Lady and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Looks like we’ve got good weather on our trip. We’ll arrive at our destination at about 0800 hours local time.”
The plane begins to move, rolling slowly from the tarmac where you boarded to the runway.
Caleb’s distorted laugh continues, “Probably a bad time to mention I haven’t flown a passenger aircraft since I was in flight school–”
A tight unamused silence falls.
“ – anyway! Sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.”
Sylus finishes off his glass of wine in one swig. “Hold tight.”
“If he pulls a barrel roll, I’ll kill him.” Zayne grumbles, not even looking up from the shopping catalog he snatched in the airport.
Thankfully, Caleb doesn’t pull a barrel roll. Despite not having flown a passenger craft in a while, you weren’t able to tell at all.
The last time you were here, you’d been hopped up on painkillers and surrounded by men so worried that your keel over from a harsh breeze you could barely enjoy it. You still had a wonderful time, but you were ready to experience your beach hideaway to the fullest this time.
Only, you’re more worried about Rafayel to enjoy the scenery right now. It’s late when you arrive, and Rafayel insists on a bath. He pushes past the rest of you to shamble inside, and you’re dragging your suitcase so fast behind you it clacks against the sidewalk.
You abandon the suitcase at the door and follow him, “Rafayel!”
He doesn’t turn, climbing the stairs and shoving open the hall bathroom. You hadn’t seen the upstairs on your last visit, and you're surprised by the large window that overlooks the ocean. The free-standing white tub sits just in front of it.
Rafayel turns on the cold tap and starts to fill the tub, stripping off his shirt without looking back at you.
You grab his arm before he can take off his pants, “Rafayel, what’s– oh god, you’re burning up!”
Before he can even reply, you’re reaching out to place your hand against his forehead and then his neck. The heat coming off his skin is sweltering– searing like the flames of his evol.
“I’ll get you some medicine or something.” You say, hating the way his eyes seem unfocused. There’s a pink blush spreading across his face, down to his neck and to his chest. You don’t want to leave him, but the desire to help was too strong.
You hear the splash of water as you escape the bathroom, and nearly stumble down the stairs in your rush.
“Zayne!” You call, and find him with your suitcase in his hand, bringing it to your bedroom. You scurry past a concerned looking Caleb to approach your doctor, “Do you have something for fever? Rafayel is sick.”
Zayne’s brow furrows, “Sick?”
“Kitten…” Sylus drawls, coming up to nearly press into your back. He too is rather warm, but even the heat from a dragon’s form pales in comparison to the fever you’d just felt coming off of Rafayel. “He’s not sick.”
You whirl to give Sylus a sharp, unamused glare– while Zayne roots through his carry-on bag for some medicine. Scowling at the amusement on the dragon's face, you poke him in the sternum harshly, “He’s burning up, and he could hardly keep eye contact. He’s clearly ill.”
“Here.” Zayne offers you a white pill bottle. An over-the-counter pain reliever, “I’m not sure if it will help with his different physiology, but it’s what I have. Though, is a fever not to be expected?”
Sylus chuckles like they’re all in on a secret, and you’re close to fuming. Xavier comes up and places a gentle hand to your back, giving both Zayne and Sylus a stern look, “Don’t be cruel. You know she wasn’t told anything about this.”
“Told about what!?” You screech, throwing your hands up and rattling the pills inside the bottle. “Somebody better start talking or I’m gonna start throwing hands, I swear to god.”
Zayne exchanges a look with the others, a silent exchange that looks too much like should we? Another scathing remark burns at the tip of your tongue, ready to kick these too-tall men into shape if they keep playing coy with information. If something’s wrong with Rafayel, then why can’t you know about it?
However, your snark disappears as Caleb comes shambling down the stairs, looking a little wide-eyed and startled. “Uh, pips? Rafayel wants you.”
You turn and find that Caleb’s clothes are both wet in places and scorched in others. He brushes through his hair and sighs, like he barely escaped with his life.
“What the hell happened to you?” You ask.
Caleb laughs sheepishly and shrugs, “He doesn’t want me, clearly . Told me he’d turn me into an apple fritter if I bothered him again.”
You huff, and turn to the others. “I’m going to take care of Rafayel.” Your voice is firm and leaves no room for argument, “And when I come back down, I expect some answers.”
You take the steps two at a time back up stairs, leaving the rest of your lovers in various states of amusement and discontent.
“Anyone care to fill me in?” Caleb asks as he pats down the side of his shirt that caught a little too close to Rafayel’s flames. The attack from the sea god hadn't been aimed to kill, just to scare. A wide spread of fire to disperse the unwanted intrusion.
“She won’t be coming downstairs for a while.” Sylus replies, shifting on his feet and crossing his arms. “Our resident fish is experiencing his special time.”
Xavier scowls at the fiend, “We were sworn to secrecy on the matter. Where is your loyalty?”
“It was Rafayel’s idea to come here,” Zayne says matter-of-factly. “If it were to remain a secret, why not hide away for a week like he always did?”
Caleb groans, “C’mon, just tell me. I’ll find out eventually, won’t I? What harm is there now?”
Previously, Rafayel dealt with this time of year on his own. Sweat it out locked away in his room, or in a safehouse a few cities away. It was just an unspoken rule, Rafayel was at his most vulnerable at this time– and until recently, things were too uncertain for him to indulge in it.
In the Sanctuary, Rafayel was adamant that this unusual occurrence would be kept from you. The other men were sworn to secrecy, and promised to keep you occupied while Rafayel disappeared for a few days every year. Because, while Rafayel’s heart belonged to all of them, the bond of Lemuria was first forged with you.
You knock softly before entering the bathroom. The sound of sloshing water meeting your ears as you slowly step inside. “Rafayel? You okay?”
A soft groan replies, and you spy his head hung back, resting on the rounded lip of the ivory tub. His hair is wet and slicked back, the long creamy length of his throat bobs as you grow closer. Sweat beads at his crown and drips down his nose– rosy lips parted and panting.
And as pretty a picture he makes, it’s not what you stare at.
Where his legs once were is a long, powerful, cerulean tail. The scales are huge and iridescent, shimmering like an opal with every tiny movement, gradually growing smaller down the length of it. It’s far too long to fit in the tub, so nearly half hangs out of it, draped across the floor. The translucent tailfin lies limply at your feet, and looks thin like dewy skin of a jellyfish.
You haven’t seen his tail in this life, and it’s more striking than your returned memories could do justice.
“Rafayel…” You whisper, partially in awe and partially in concern. He doesn’t look well, and he’s never changed forms in the bathtub before. Setting the pill bottle aside for a moment, you step close to the tub and use your hand to cup water and trickle it down the exposed scales– worried they might dry out.
A soft, whine leaves his blushed lips, and his eyes stare at you like he can’t believe you’re real. Like you might be something conjured from the fever.
“It’s okay…” You say, reaching out to brush your hand through his damp hair, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
A piteous moan rings from him, and he grips the side of the tub like he might sink and drown. Hips rolling against the cold water and sloshing more over the side, splashing down on the tile. “I need….” He rasps, licking at his lips like he hasn’t tasted moisture in days. “I need… ”
“I know,” You say, reaching down to grab the pill bottle. “I got some painkillers. Here–”
You go to open the bottle, but Rafayel’s scalding palm snaps to your wrist. The sound of your gasp and the pills scattering to the floor fill the room, but then quickly followed with a low, animal rumble from Rafayel’s chest.
He drags you close, hovering over him. Unceremoniously, Rafayel pulls your hand down beneath the water– the frigid temperature stings your skin. You feel the heat of him before you touch him, and the slick almost slimy feeling of his scales meets your fingertips.
The instant your fingers meet his heated flesh, a ragged, dragged out moan is punched out of him, and his hips rolls towards your open palm. You’ve barely touched him, and he already looks completely fucked-out. Multi-colored irises rolled back, mouth open, throat bobbing.
You press your hand a little firmer to the scales around his hip, and he inhales sharply through his teeth– a deeply satisfying sound. Dragging your fingers towards where you’re sure he wants it, you’re met with another shock.
Where normally, his pretty flushed cock would be waiting for you– he throbs so pretty when he’s desperate– you find nothing. Well, not exactly nothing , but not what you were expecting.
Rafayel still has a vice grip on your wrist, and pulls you closer to the crux of his hips– where his penis should be. Only, instead, you find more scales. Large, thin, and glass-like. The dip in them is nearly imperceptible, and looking through the rippling surface of the water provides no more clues.
Your fingertips catch on an anomaly in the patter of his scales, a little divot you hadn’t felt the first time across. Pausing, you press a little to this odd dip, and Rafayel's keen moan lets you know you’re on the right track.
You lift up to watch his face– the lewd colors of his cheeks contrasted by the shimmery scales that decorated it. You can almost see his pulse pound in his neck, and resist the urge to overstimulate him further with your teeth. Pushing your fingers harder, you gasp when the dip gives way to a slit. Your digits slide easily into a tight, fleshy passage, fluttering around you like a welcome.
“ Ahh!” Rafayel cries, “Please! Please love….inside. Inside more…. more …”
He’s practically delirious with it, and it’s intoxicating. You’ve never had Rafayel begging for you like this, and the power is too delicious to stop. You’ve got the god of tides writhing on your fingers, and you're not even knuckle deep yet.
“Why did you hide this from me?” You coo softly, leaning over to place your face close to his. He turns to face you, and his eyes immediately fall to your lips. A soft, silent, plea for your kiss.
He tries to speak, and you can tell because his tongue moves ineffectually in his pleasure drunk mouth. You tut softly, and give him the tender kiss he desires.
“Shh…” You hum against his lips, “I’ve got you. It’s okay….just let me take care of you….”
He dissolves at your words, pressing his face as close as he can to yours. You keep up a steady, slow rhythm of your fingers. Letting the gooey topography of his slit guide you. You’re not sure how much he can take, and you’re not interested in hurting him– yet.
Rafayel’s hips continue to rut, as indiscernible pleas spill from his lips. You wonder if this is what you look like in the heat of things– a wanton amalgamation of desperation and desire chasing a high.
As he gets closer to his peak, you notice something change. A tighter pressure that presses against the back of your fingers and then up. It’s wet, and swelteringly hot. The heat alone has you turning your head to try and get a better look at what’s going.
Oh.
You gasp softly, even through the shifting water you can see the flushed, nearly purple appendage protruding from his slit just beneath your hand. So he does have a cock in this form.
Except…it’s not alone. Side by side, they lie. Forming an almost mandorla shape together, and two halves of a whole separately. They long and prehensile, you discover, as they split apart to wrap around your wrist.
It’s obscene. It’s….amazing. You can’t look away, and you can’t stop yourself from drawing your fingers from his channel and reaching for them. His cocks greet you like they’d been waiting for it. A deep, heavy throb as you wrap your fingers lightly around them. They fit together almost seamlessly, and if you hadn’t seen them move apart, you’d think there was only one, large, tentacle-like cock.
You’ve barely squeezed them when Rafayel shouts– a strangled, surprised noise cutting through him. His cocks jolt and you can feel him come. The rush of come spurting out and into the water. Pump after pump after pump.
Rafayel’s hand grabs at your arm, and his nails dig into your flesh harshly.
You’re mesmerized. There’s a matching beat deep in your belly, as your own arousal begins to hurt slightly. Drunk on this all-encompassing control you have over him, you turn to watch his face as he comes down from his sudden, bone-shattering high.
He starts to catch his breath, and you can see as his eyes slowly come back into focus. Whatever feverish delight had taken over him, is subsided for now, and he languidly draws you in. A hand on the side of your face and the other on your neck– he doesn’t let you escape. A soft kiss at first, and then a little harder. He bites at your lip like he might sustain himself from the taste alone.
He pauses and pulls away, but only an inch. He searches your face for a moment, before whispering, “Did I hurt you?”
You laugh breathlessly and shake your head as much as you can while he holds you tightly, “No. No, I'm fine. Are you? You’ve never been like this before….”
Rafayel sighs wistfully, and lets you go. He looks down at himself. The tub is nearly half-empty now, with how much water he spilled in his rutting. The end of his tail knocked over the little side table which held the bath salts and bubbles– which now lay strewn across the floor.
The water is a little murky now, and he frowns.
“I guess I should explain.”
You’ve got your arms folded, sitting cross legged in the center of your bed and glaring at the sea god and his audacity. “So what was the plan? Come here and just hope I didn’t notice?”
Rafayel is bad at explaining things, and it felt like pulling teeth before you got even halfway to understand what was happening.
Ebb Day. A day when the tide flows the opposite direction and creatures from the deep sea come to the surface. He’d started the explanation with some long winded fairytale about a mermaid and sailor that fell in love, but it turns out that has so very little to do with what is happening to him.
From what you could piece together, it’s a day of extreme weakness for Lemurians. A day where even the weakest human might overpower them, and even more dangerous for those who were bonded.
Lemurians’ whole beings become dedicated to those they love. They forge an unbreakable, soulbond with their chosen one, and all their senses become attuned to them. And the weeks leading up to Ebb day, their bodies not only crave their beloved but they need them.
The week of Ebb day is uncomfortable for most, and wretched for those with bonds but for whatever reason unable to be with them. Rafayel is sparse in his explanation here, mumbling out half-heartedly comments about the pain and possible hallucinations that can occur.
Ebb day is now five days away. Rafayel is almost too casual as he tells you that what happened in the bathroom will only get worse the closer you get.
Zayne returns to the room with some bottles of water. He hands one to you, and then hands the other to Rafayel– letting his evol frost it over before the siren takes it.
“I figured I’d spend it in the ocean.” Rafayel replies to your previous discontent with a shrug. “You get a little vacay, and I get to stay close. This is easier to deal with in the water anyways.”
That makes your scowl deepen, “You were going to go through this alone? Why? If you didn’t want me to know, then you could have at least had one of the others help?!”
Rafayel pauses mid-gulp. He finishes his water and tosses it aside, “It’s not that simple, cutie. It’s a nice thought, but I’m not exactly fun to be around when this happens. And I could seriously hurt you.”
“Don’t be dumb.” You bite back. “You think I can’t handle a little neediness and rough handling?”
Zayne sighs as he leaves the room, letting the two of you continue bickering with a shake of his head. Distantly, you hear Caleb’s muffled voice from just outside the door– he’s been lingering just outside, listening in just in case.
Rafayel’s face hardens, and he sits up from where he lounged against the pillows, “You think that’s all it is?”
He sounds a little darker, a little more genuinely irritated instead of that feigned annoyance he usually wears. The way he prowls across the bed to you has the hair on the back of your neck standing up, and you lean back on your hands.
Rafayel’s grin is predatory, and it tingles that coil in your gut that makes your lips part in a soft, subtle gasp. He doesn’t touch you, but somehow pushes you onto your back nonetheless. Placing one hand to their side of your head, he crawls over you.
“You’re not a Lemurian.” Rafayel purrs, “You won’t understand. It’s about connecting…body, mind, soul. It’s about possession. It’s about procreation.”
You swallow a heavy lump in your throat. Heart pounding in your ears as his lips caress every word. “P-procreation?”
Rafayel hums and lowers his head, hiding his face against your chest. He places a feather-light kiss to your collarbone, and then ghosts his lips up your neck, whispering against your jaw, “A week of being so tightly pressed together...you can’t tell where one body ends and the other begins. The final day…I’ll be so obsessed with the idea of filling you, I won’t stop til it takes .”
Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. Mind spinning as it slowly catches up with what he just said. “Do you…really want that?”
Rafayel pauses in his teasing. Lips hovering over the untouched side of your neck. He looks up at you through violet tinged lashes and smiles gently, “Not until you do.”
He returns to kissing you. Placing tender, loving touches to all the skin he can reach. It’s slow and lazy– like you’ve got all the time in the world.
You blink a few times and try to screw your head on straight, “If we do this…” You whisper softly, “Is it guaranteed that I will…that I’ll…?”
You only ask because you’re not entirely certain that your poor human birth control could withstand Rafayel’s sea-god sex week. It’s been a wonder that it’s withstood the onslaught of your lovers up until now.
Rafayel laughs, but it sounds like thunder. “Don’t tease me, cutie. I might get ideas…”
“Rafayel, I’m serious.” You reply, placing your hands to his face and pulling him to look at you. There’s a daze to his eyes again, but he’s still lucid for now. “I won’t let you go through this alone. Me and the others…we’re here for you. I just need to know if I should take something beforehand.”
There’s a shift in his expression. The teasing and taunting fading into something uncertain. You feel his gaze shift around your face, the weight of attention like layers of thick silk. A sense of anticipation tightens in the air as he shifts ever closer.
Rafayel sighs, nearly silent. “I warn you and warn you, yet still you insist…”
His voice trails off, words disappearing into the air around you. A firm hand on your hip has you sliding into him, and Rafayel catches your lips in a heady kiss.
You feel the heat radiating off of him again, seeping into your mouth and warming your tongue like a steaming cup of tea. It’s hard to match his fervor when his entire body is hardwired to perceive you. How could you hope to meet him halfway when his body yearns not for food nor water, but for you?
In between wet kisses, Rafayel mumbles, “I won’t be held responsible then…” He tilts his head and drags his sharp teeth across the tender flesh of your throat, breathing raggedly like he has to put great effort in not biting down. “And I won’t hold back….”
Rafayel’s fingertips leave trails of tingling sensations in their wake. His evol burns at the very tips of his skin, burning him from the inside out and using his desire as fuel. You’d be worried about him actually burning you if it didn’t feel so delectable.
Your clothes are torn from you, seams popped in the rush to remove them. A button from your shorts clattering across the hardwood floor. Rafayel doesn’t seem to hear any of it. His ears are filled with the sound of your breath. The soft whines that leave you, coaxed from you like a divine instrument. You sing for him even before he’s able to get his tongue inside you.
The taste of you has his eyes rolling back in his head. He thought you tasted heavenly before, especially when you were close to ovulating. A special kind of sweetness that bloomed across his tongue– whispering in low tones to his worst instincts that you were ready.
But this? Rafayel can’t get enough. He can’t stop from lapping at you like a ravenous beast, and maybe that’s all he is. Maybe all that talk of sea god this or god of tides that was just folklore to hide the true nature of him. The nature of a gluttonous, greedy man made weak from the dew between your legs.
Your back arches and Rafayel moans, he reaches one hand up your body– needing to feel more of your precious skin. You’ve never felt cool to him before; your touch is always warm, but this heat ….this burning heat inside him threatens to melt his brain, and it feels like you’re the cure. You’re what he needs to quench the flames.
The room is a blur. Anything that isn’t you fades into a muted background. Rafayel isn’t sure how long he spent tongue-fucking you, but when he finds another moment of clarity, he’s above you. He’s got your thighs pressed to your chest, the backs of your knees acting as handrests as he presses you in half.
“ Ra-Rafa–” You can’t even finish his name, nearly drooling as he teases his cock inside. Your weepy cunt throbbing for him– for him.
Usually, Rafayel is whispering filth in your ear. He loves to watch your eyelashes flutter and feel you tighten up. It’s almost too easy to mumble praises and get you into that pliant, floaty headspace, and he never misses an opportunity.
Except for now. Now, he’s slack jawed, groaning with every rough push of his hips. In this position he can reach that deep, squishy spot inside you that has your voice pitching up. He can feel you gush in a new wave of slick that has his tongue feeling too restless for his mouth– torn suddenly with the urge to drink it up.
Rafayel doesn’t even realize he’s close to coming until you do. It’s like his body isn’t his– like the stimuli he’s feeling is just secondary to you. When you come– singing for him, squeezing him, Rafayel follows immediately after. Like your cry of pleasure is a plea for his come that he’s helpless to obey.
It’s not enough to just come inside you. It’s not enough to just know he’s filled you up– no. No , it’s not enough. Rafayel grits his teeth, an uncomfortable feeling scouring under his skin that’s only soothed when he continues to thrust inside you. Deep, heavy rolls of his hips that pushes his come deeper and deeper and deeper .
Rafayel nearly works himself back up into a fever again. The mantra burning inside his head is impossible to ignore, and he needs to know his come as where it’s supposed to be.
He’s not sure how much time passes, only that he has to keep going. As long as it takes.
A hand enters his line of vision, and Rafayel hisses softly. The pale skin of the intruder is familiar, but for some reason his hackles still raise.
“You need to let go of her.” Xavier’s voice is soft, but firm. His hand rests on Rafayel’s shoulder, a cool but heavy weight that sobers the sea god slightly.
Rafayel blinks, and looks down. You’re still beneath him, folded into a deep mating press. You’re breathing heavily, and when you meet Rafayel’s eyes he can see the remnants of tears that have leaked out.
He pulls away, and scowls when he sees the imprint of his hands left on the backs of your legs. You exhale in relief as you unfold yourself, and lean your face into Xavier’s hand when he caresses you.
Rafayel burns inside. The bond in his heart sits like a white-hot coal. This bond….was forged with you, and Rafayel had always assumed that he’d unconsciously reject the others if they’d intruded.
But that’s not what he feels. He doesn’t feel possession over you, or a desire to sever Xavier’s hand from his wrist for daring to touch you. Rafayel sits on his heels and watches as the blond assesses you, cares for you, and places a soft kiss to your nose.
“I’m okay…” You whisper softly, reassuring Xavier with a soft kiss to his palm. “I didn’t know I could bend like that for that long.”
Xavier hums, sounding both amused and impressed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I was worried.”
Rafayel finally finds the ability to move again, and slides back up you body, propping himself up on his elbows and laying across you like a heated weighted blanket, “Aw, were you worried she couldn’t handle it?”
Xavier, who was now sat on the edge of the bed near your head, looks over to Rafayel with an impassive expression, “No. Besides giving her a muscle cramp, I know bunny can handle it. It was you I was worried about.”
Rafayel’s brow lowers, and he has to grapple against a sudden rush of heat again. His mind whirls with this casual confession of concern, because he’s itching again. The desire to touch and taste is back– rising like a stoked inferno, but it’s not just you anymore.
You sit up slightly, and Rafayel is caught ensnared by the vision of you. Your skin is flushed, hair askew, and a litany of lovely marks against your neck that Rafayel isn’t certain when he left.
“He feels a little cooler now,” You say, reaching out to brush some hair from his face. A tender, compassionate gesture that shouldn’t stir him as much as it does. “I think letting him go a little wild is helping.”
Xavier hums and reaches out, placing the back of his palm against the forehead you exposed, “How frequently are the bouts of delirium? We should time them to make sure you’re eating enough…”
Xavier lets his hand fall, and Rafayel will deny the sound of disappointment that left him.
“Rafayel?” Your voice calls to him, but instead of drawing his attention, the syllables of his name ring like weights at his ankles– dragging him further under. Vaguely, he hears you say, “He’s getting droopy eyed again. Rafayel, can you hear me?”
Rafayel feels your voice and moves, rising up to slide his form against yours, feeling the curves of your body like a wave against the sand. Dragging skin against skin so he can feel the balm you provide his heat, “I hear you…darling. I hear you fine.”
“You need to go again?” You whisper, reaching out to hold the sides of his face, “Can you wait? Take a drink at least…”
Rafayel grins, breathing out against your lips in an amused huff, “Oh good idea… I’m so thirsty…just let me…”
He slides back down, heading towards the only thing he wants to taste at the moment. Why would he need anything else? He’s certain, in this moment, that he could be sustained fro your pussy alone.
Before he can get his mouth where he wants it, something– someone – stops him. A hand that first tries to get his attention by squeezing his shoulder. Xavier calls Rafayel’s name, but the man doesn’t hear it. And when that doesn’t work, Xavier finds a grip in the sea god’s hair, fingers tangled in violet tresses and pulling his head back.
The sound that leaves Rafayel is wrecked. A broken, pleading moan that is far too high and whiny. “ Oh…”
Xavier inhales sharply and too easily, Rafayel follows his hold, crawling back up your body and rising up to his knees to be closer to Xavier’s face. The blond holds him close so that there’s no question the delirious man can hear him, “You’re going to hurt yourself, or hurt her. Is that what you want?”
Rafayel’s eyes and drooping, unfocused and unseeing because the sensation of the hand in his hair is too much. “N-no…”
Xavier nods, stunned slightly by how permissive Rafayel is with the manhandling. A whole new side of the artist is being revealed, and the room buzzes with anticipation for it.
Something about Xavier’s command has Rafayel staying put, obeying despite everything. The prince exits to retrieve sustenance, and returns to find Rafayel covering your exposed skin in soft, wet kisses. He hadn’t moved from where Xavier had put him, and only touched what he could reach.
Rafayel downs another entire bottle of water while you take a few sips of yours. You barely get the lid on before he’s grabbing you again, hot breath steaming out of him as he lines his weepy cock up with your tender entrance.
“ A-ahh… ” You sigh as he wastes absolutely no time pushing inside you, too eager and too hot to think of anything else.
Xavier hesitates before leaving, covering the sides of your face with his hands to watch the pleasure melt you. His hazy blue eyes look up at the other man currently wrecking you and asks, “Can I stay?”
Rafayel grunts, rutting his hips a little harder, “You’re next.”
It sounds like a horrible threat and a loving, desperate promise.
Xavier keeps his distance for the moment, only entering the cloud of candy desire by holding your hands through the thorough wrecking. Rafayel doesn’t let up, his inhuman stamina coming to strut it’s stuff. Leaving you a leaky, trembling mess.
After Rafayel comes inside a second time, you’re left drooling into the blankets, unsure what happens now. He’d said Xavier was next, but what did that mean?
You feel Rafayel drag Xavier onto the bed, tearing at his clothes even rougher than he’d been with yours. It’s hard to breathe, watching as the blond is unwrapped like a birthday present– clothing ripped like tissue paper and discarded for the prize underneath.
Your mind is only a few seconds ahead of what’s in front of your eyes, and your imagination supplies lurid images of Rafayel pulling Xavier into a kiss. A beat and it happens, like foresight. You imagine Rafayel pushing Xavier onto the mattress beside you, and voila, there he is.
You imagine Rafayel moving in between Xavier’s leg and being too hasty with trying to get inside him– but that’s not what happens next. Rafayel doesn’t rush like you thought he might. Instead, he takes his time to taste the prince’s neck. His chest and down the ripples expanse of his abdomen.
Xavier is just as surprised as you are by the attention to his pleasure, and a sharp hiss cuts through the blond’s teeth when Rafayel drags his tongue up his cock. He was already half-hard just watching the two of you, but with that one lascivious lick he’s steely and twitching.
This time, you get to kiss Xavier through his pleasure. Drink in his stunned gasps and shuddering moans as Rafayel takes him in his throat down to the hilt.
Now that you’ve caught your breath, you can dedicate more attention to them. Letting your fingers dance across Xavier’s chest, feeling the way his heart pounds in his chest, and pinching his peachy nipples.
It’s always been such a treat to see a man like Xavier crumble. His voice is always so soft, like feather down and sun sugar– but in pleasure it gets deeper, darker. Rich like couverture chocolate sparked with chili. Even as rough as Xavier can be, there’s gentleness.
He likes to hold you by the throat, and he does so now. Not gripping, but cradling. Feeling the tender chords of your throat bend as you swallow and breathe. Your pulse thrums against his fingertips and it soothes him. Xavier finds comfort in him like you do in him. A place to unravel from your defensive coil and exist in decadent vulnerability.
Xavier gets a little rougher when he’s close. Biting at his lip and pulling your face closer to his with one hand while his other goes to grip Rafayel’s hair– mindlessly thrusting up into the wet heat of his lover’s mouth.
Rafayel knows it as well as you do that Xavier’s on the precipice– probably more so. With a satisfied rumble, the sea god draws away. Chuckling as he watches Xavier thrust up into nothing.
“Stay just like that…” Rafayel commands, voice low, soft, but dangerous. He rises up onto his knees, and places his scalding hand just below Xavier’s navel. “Let me look at you for a minute.”
The minute passes agonizingly slowly. Xavier struggles not to move, his face twitching and you can almost see his train of thought. He’s debating disobeying– taking control. He’s not usually a fan of being on his back, even with you.
You wonder if Rafayel is doing it to edge the poor prince, or to try and memorize him to draw later. You found Rafayel’s more salacious sketchbook once while cleaning his studio– a small letter sized book filled with graphite sketches of you and your lovers in various erotic positions.
Rafayel doesn’t say anything before he moves. There’s just the slightest shift in his breath, a sharp inhale that breaks the pattern before he’s dragging his hand down and gripping Xavier’s cock. Pumping a few times until the prince moans prettily.
Of the months you’ve been with them, you’ve never seen Rafayel bottom. Not once. Not once has ever let the other men take him in that way, so it’s more than a little surprising to see him shift to straddle Xavier’s waist.
Xavier’s hands snap to Rafayel’s hip, gripping him tightly, “Wait…are you sure?”
Even Xavier can’t believe it, apparently. The hands on Rafayel’s waist are pulling him down, but keeping him up.
You sit up onto your elbows and reach for Rafayel’s hand, which he grasps tightly.
“Don’t deny me.” Rafayel hisses, glowering down at the blond with his chin raised, “I need it.”
So demanding, even like this. You're completely tongue-tied and unsure what to do, because your equal parts worried about the change in character and interested to see where it goes.
“Bunny,” Xavier turns his head to motion towards the bedside table, “Lube.”
His voice is tight and strained and so you don’t waste any time. You clatter to the table and retrieve the half-empty bottle from the drawer. When you turn, Rafayel isn’t fighting against Xavier’s hold anymore, but is sitting on Xavier’s hip just behind where he wants to be. Letting their cocks sit beside each other.
Rafayel is almost petulant as Xavier coaxes him to move, making sure he can prep him properly with his fingers. You soothe the siren’s hunger by keeping him occupied with your mouth. Kissing him sweetly until his whines of irritation turn into soft keens of pleasure. You wrap your hand around his reddened member and let him drive his hips forward and back– into your palm and back onto Xavier’s fingers.
Once Xavier’s satisfied that no damage will be done, he returns to their original position. Xavier lays on his back and gasps when Rafayel climbs him like he’ll die if he doesn’t sit on Xavier right. this. instant.
Xavier moans, long and drawn out as Rafayel attempts to spear himself– gasping like he’s drawing. And maybe he is? You’ve been so consumed in the heat of the moment, you haven’t really considered what Rafayel might be feeling.
It must be frightening to feel like you’ll die if you don’t get to touch someone.
You rise to your knees, and move. Grabbing both of Rafayels hands and pulling his attention to you, “Slow. Slower than that. Rafayel, look at me, yeah?”
Rafayel does. Through a cloud of amethyst haze, his eyes find yours. He’s panting, shivering, sweating.
“I need…”
“I know.” You say, and when you nod your noses brush together. “But you have to start slow. If you start slow, you can go fast later…follow me. Move with me.”
“Yes…” Rafayel begs, leaning forward to kiss you weakly. He slows the press of his hips downwards, following the gentle guidance of your hands. “ Oh…yes…”
“That’s it.” You breathe reverently. “You’re doing wonderful. So perfect.”
Rafayel responds to your praise with a staggered moan, breaking up into little pieces like thin sugar candy.
Xavier is a barely contained flame. He’s got one hand gripping Rafayel’s hip to hold the slow pace, despite the pleasure that threatens to consume him from the sweltering heat swallowing him up. His other hand rests on your thigh, squeezing you like a stress ball as if it’s the only thing keeping him from coming apart at the seams.
Soon enough, you find a rhythm. You feel powerful– like a goddess – guiding Rafayel with your hands up and down. Up the veiny length of Xavier’s shaft and back down again.
Once Rafayel is moving without your assistance, Xavier is able to find his control again. It’s only a flicker of sanity through the draping heat that leads the prince to grabbing you, hauling up and grunting, “ Sit, bunny.”
It doesn’t take a starfleet scientist to figure what he means, because he’s forgoing thrusting up for the moment to make sure you’re positioned right. Thighs on either side of his head, and drippy sex right above his face.
Bracing yourself against Xavier’s chest you slowly press down, but Xavier isn’t having any of the demure shit right now. He’s got a sea god bouncing on his cock, and he was a goddess on his face. He growls– the only warning you get before he’s dragging you down. Meeting your cunt with his outstretched tongue.
The combined stimuli of Xavier’s devilish tongue and watching Rafayel ride him is enough to overcome any hesitation. Less than a minute later you’re rolling your hips. Riding Xavier’s face just like he wants you to.
“ Ah! Ah! Ah!” You cry rhythmically, meeting the tempo Rafayel’s thrusts like you might connect your lust drunk minds, to feel what he feels. To taste that decadent pleasure you both deliriously chase.
Oddly, you come first. Shaking and trembling as you feel Xavier drink up every drop of honey you give him. A muffled moan vibrates against your clit and sends shocks of sensation up your stripped spine– sparking into painful overstimulation.
Xavier isn’t far behind, wrung of his orgasm from the vice heat of Rafayel’s plushy insides. His peak is muffled because he won’t let you pull away. He won’t remove his tongue from inside you and miss even a second of the syrupy sweet taste.
Rafayel slows his hips as Xavier slowly softens inside him, and when you find a moment to breathe– that breath catches in your lungs. Rafayel’s attention has turned to you, eyes falling on you like a headsman's axe.
“Come to me.” Rafayel says sharply.
Xavier barely has enough time to release his hold on your thighs before his violet haired lover is pulling you away. Pushing you over to squish your face in the bed right next to Xavier’s messy face, and pulling your hips up.
“Can’t waste it.” Rafayel sounds possessed. Like his voice doesn’t belong to him. Speaking absentmindedly as he grips the base of his cock, precome dripping from the weepy slit. It takes a few searching half-hearted thrusts to find your seam and press inside. “Don’t waste a drop… my darling girl. My beloved bride…”
Rafayel thrusts with his whole body, and it’s the first sign of any exhaustion he’s shown. He draws out to the very tip and then pushes back inside, carving his place inside you like it’s his. And it is. You’re his.
“Nngh!” You choke on a mixture of pleasure and pain. You’re pushing against the limits of what you can handle in a session, but the feeling satisfying this radiant divine part of Rafayel is enough to keep you going. “I-I won’t! I won’t waste it!”
It’s only two more thrusts before Rafayel comes, thready dripping from his blushed lips like a siren’s song. And it feels like that’s exactly what it is. Your mind sinks into a fluffy, warm space. Drunk and sedated simultaneously from his reverent attention and the heated rush of come flooding you once more.
Later that day, you’re laying on a lounge chair on the back porch, letting the afternoon sun warm your skin. Caleb sits beside you, massaging your body with some oddly scented lotion.
On paper, spending all day squished between your ravenous, heat-stricken lover and one or two of your other lovers sounds great. On paper, Rafayel’s ebb day rut sounded great. Marathon sex without end? Yes please.
Only, the reality is a little less sexy and a bit more sticky. Rafayel refuses to come unless it’s inside you, even when he was previous fucking someone else. You’d feel special if you didn’t feel like an overfilled cream donut– who’re you kidding? You’re definitely gonna miss this once it’s over.
Until then, you hurt. Your muscles ache and you feel raw inside. It stings a little when you walk– the little limp you had when you finally got a chance to stand up only riled Rafayel up again.
Currently, Zayne is occupying the sea god with Xavier. While Sylus and Caleb keep you company and let you rest for a moment. Sylus sits in a lawn chair right next to the door, sipping at pomegranate lemonade with a little yellow umbrella, and acting like a bouncer. No one’s going in or going out at the moment, not until Caleb’s done.
“I smell like a medicine cabinet now…” You whine softly but make no effort to move away.
“It’s magnesium lotion, pipsqueak.” Caleb explains as he digs his thumbs into your calf, rolling out the potential knots and pressing the cream deep. “It’ll help you from getting sore.”
“I’m already sore.” You hide your face into the pillow and groan softly. “Ugh this is only day one….”
Sylus chuckles and swirls his drink a few times, the ice cubes rattling together, “We should feel grateful he’s willing to play with others. He was always adamant it could only be you.”
Lifting your head, you give Sylus a sharp look, “What do you mean ‘he always’ ?”
Sylus brings his drink to his lips and smiles when he places the bendy straw in his mouth. He takes a long, slow swig before he answers you, “I’d like to preempt this with the fact I was never on board with keeping it a secret, but it wasn’t my secret to share.”
“Big on transparency, are you?” Caleb remarks as he gently rolls his fingers around your ankle.
“Oh, communication is key.” Sylus replies playfully, “We were made aware of his predicament in the world before. The Sanctuary was hardly a place for a Lemurian to hide away during such a vulnerable time. This bond that Lemurians forge, he was certain it would reject everyone except you, and your fishy had the sense that you , for whatever reason, couldn’t handle a week of his full attention. Though, was he wrong?”
You pout but it quickly morphs into a grimace as Caleb finds a knot in your thigh. “Sorry, pips.” He says softly, and then under furth examination, clicks his tongue in disappointment. “You have bruises here. On the backs of your thighs.”
Sylus lowers his chin to peer over his sunglasses, while Caleb traces the blooming marks with his fingertips. You twist to try and see, but the backs of your thighs aren’t exactly accessible, and so you fall back to lay on your stomach. “I’m not surprised. He had me in that mating press for like thirty minutes.”
“M-mating press?” Caleb stutters, hand falling a little heavier on your skin and squeezing ever so slightly.
“Okay so maybe he wasn’t wrong entirely.” You concede, “But he was wrong about the bond rejecting you. He didn’t have to go through it alone.”
“If someone is half-wrong,” Sylus begins as he leans back in his chair, “Does that make the half-right part inconsequential?”
“He should be gentler.” Caleb mumbles softly, drawing his thumbs up the back of your thigh, and then– a moment later– pressing his lips there. “If he can’t control himself, then maybe he should go through it alone.”
You turn and give Caleb a stern look, letting him stew on the words he just said.
Sylus’ laugh is devilish and he lowers his sunglasses to give Caleb a mischievous smirk, “Ooh, better apologize puppy. I’d hate to see you sleeping outside.”
Caleb frowns, and no such apology is made.
Thankfully, after the first day. Rafayel cools off a little. The excitement of the new opportunities had made his poor fishy brain melt a little, and he’d gotten so carried away he even wore himself out.
Shifts were taken. Though it was hard to keep as Rafayel’s instincts were fickle and unfathomable. He would seek out one of your group like he’d been starved of them, and it felt like a roll of the dice who it would be.
On the dreaded Ebb day . It was gloomy– the sky was overcast in bluish grey and the wind was sharper as it rushed in from the ocean. It felt foreboding, and it was.
Rafayel wouldn’t let any of you leave the bedroom. He snapped at Zayne for daring to try and go make breakfast, and nearly clawed Caleb’s arm off when he tried to escape the nest of bodies and sleep on the floor.
This bed wasn’t nearly as spacious as your bed at home, but Rafayel seemed to enjoy the closeness. While the rest of you sweat through the humidity, the sea god seemed soothed by it. Though he complained about the heat constantly, when someone was touching him he would sigh like a cold compress was pressed to his skin.
During the week, Rafayel would have time between his bouts of ravenous desire. Sometimes he was granted hours between them where he was able to drink, eat, and bathe. And then, just as suddenly, he’d grab you. Pin you to the ground and mount you like he hadn’t seen you in months. Begging you to take it like he might cry if you didn’t.
Today, there was no such reprieve. The moment the sun rose, Rafayel was gone. Replaced by someone who didn’t exist without you. His skin needed to be pressed to yours. He’d awoken you with his cock inside you– with slow, heavy thrusts. Sylus was still awake, and talked the two of you through it. Holding onto Rafayel’s hip with a tight hand to keep from pounding too harshly into you.
After you were filled, Sylus kissed you. He drank in the remnants of your pleasure and gently detached you from the sea god. He handed you to Zayne, whispering a soft request to take care of you to the doctor.
You were able to get a few more hours of sleep while Sylus battled against the other mythic creature. Dragon versus siren, and this once– the dragon came out on top. Bending Rafayel over to fuck him deep and fast. It was hard to sleep through the harsh slaps of hips against one another, and the weepy cries of Rafayel’s cross-eyed pleasure.
When Sylus had had his fill, Rafayel found you again. Pushing you into Zayne’s chest and not caring that the doctor held you while he pushed your legs apart. Pleading with you to please, please, please show him your pretty pussy again.
Zayne was an active bystander for this round. A slower, more purposeful rutting as Rafayel rolled with him. Guided by the doctor’s skilled fingers that shimmered with frost.
You could hardly catch your breath. Every inhale stung with the frigid air, and every exhale swallowed by Rafayel’s desperate mouth. His cock felt even more swelteringly hot inside you with Zayne at your back. The contrast was too much, and you came three times before Rafayel met his end– filling you again.
You were icky and dripping by midday. Sticky with sweat, leaking Rafayel’s come despite his commands to not spill a drop. While the others tried to rest in between rounds, Caleb couldn’t sleep, and spent most of his time trying to take care of you.
He tutted softly as you sleepily leaned into him, letting him drag the warm washcloth against your abdomen and then down to the crux of your thighs. It was gentle and reverent, but Rafayel took personal offense to this. He snarled at Caleb and snatched the washcloth– throwing it across the room like a poisoned article.
Caleb was punished with face shoved into your pussy, lapping like the little puppy he was while Rafayel fucked him harshly. It was almost mean, and even Xavier woke up and attempted to draw the siren’s attention away.
It didn’t work. And Rafayel wasn’t satisfied until he’d made Caleb beg to come. The colonel sang his pleas into the folds of your cunt, only drawing his tongue away for those few moments until it was back again.
Rafayel didn’t come inside Caleb. In a flurry, he pulled out, and rolled Caleb away, dragging you by the ankle to shove back inside you. It seemed you were due a punishment too, for letting Caleb wipe away his come in the first place. Rafayel whispered his promises to fill you darkly in your ear. Now, he’d have to try twice as hard.
Xavier was the only one Rafayel was halfway gentle with. The only of your group besides you that he seemed willing to ride without harsh desperation, and so the rounds that included the blond were the easiest.
It was almost sundown when you found yourself feeling a bit dizzy, draped across Sylus’ chest as Rafayel fucked you from behind. Xavier’s firm hands on the artist’s waist kept him from pounding you, and the blond’s low voice in his ear had him trembling close to orgasm in record time.
The sunset, and darkness blanketed your house. It snuck up on you, because one moment you were still being used like a come dump and the next you’re passed out alongside the others in a haphazard pile.
Zayne, of course, is the only one sleeping halfway properly. He’s got a pillow and everything. From there, it’s just downhill With Sylus leaning against him, nearly upright and Xavier in his lap, splayed like a sleepy housecat. Caleb is snoring on top of Zayne with his legs over Xavier’s and an arm draped over his eyes. You’re nestled somewhere in the middle, with Rafayel laying on your chest with your legs intertwined.
Exhaustion is too soft a word. This is bone-deep debility. Wrung out like wet rags of every last drop of moisture. You snore louder than you ever have, and even the storm that brews outside that night does nothing to stir any of you.
A short spring storm wets the earth. Thunder rumbles and lightning casts flashes of cool light into your room. None of it disturbs your rest. Not even the rush of wind and rain tapping against your window intrudes upon the blessed peace you’ve finally found.
When morning comes, the storm is gone, and Ebb day is finally over.