Chapter Text
You push through the door of Rafayel’s studio, and the air wraps around you like an old friend—thick with the scent of drying paint, salt from the open balcony, and that faint, underlying warmth of him, like ocean waves bottled up in a room. It’s autumn now, leaves skittering across the floor in golden bursts whenever the wind picks up, and the pinboard on the far wall is overflowing with polaroids, each one a little slice of the year you’ve built together. You pause there, fingers tracing the edges of the photos, your chest tightening with that mix of nostalgia and heat that always hits when you think back on how it all started.
It feels like yesterday, but really, it’s been a whole year since that awkward spring day in the cherry blossom grove. You’d just wrapped up a mission, muscles sore and mind buzzing from the adrenaline, when Rafayel’s text popped up. You’d rolled your eyes at your phone, but your heart had done a little flip anyway at his invitation to spend time together, although he never claimed it to be a date, you knew he wanted it to be. You did, too, after all.
Back then, everything between you was tentative, like walking on fresh ice—crisp and beautiful, but one wrong step and it might crack.
The grove was alive with petals drifting down like soft rain, catching in your hair and on his scarf as you wandered in. He was already there, lounging on a picnic blanket with his sketchbook, violet hair tousled by the breeze, amethyst eyes lighting up when he spotted you.
“Finally, cutie. My muse shouldn’t keep me waiting, y’know. I might just waste away.” he drawled, that lazy smirk pulling at his full lips, the ones you couldn’t stop sneaking glances at even then. They curved just so when he teased, soft and inviting.
You’d dropped onto the blanket, keeping a careful distance at first, your boots scuffing the grass. The air smelled fresh, like blooming flowers and cut grass, and he handed you a sandwich without a word, his fingers brushing yours on purpose, you were sure. “Eat up. You look like you fought a war,” he muttered, but his voice had that undercurrent of concern he always tried to hide behind playfulness or drama.
Things were shy back then. You’d chat about nothing—the mission, his latest painting—but every silence felt charged, your eyes flicking to his lips more than you wanted to admit when he hummed to himself, or to the constellation of moles on his face or peeking from under his collar. They were your soft spot, and your well-guarded secret.
He caught you staring once, raising an eyebrow. “What? Got something on my face?” his tone was playful, but his cheeks flushed faintly, and you mumbled something about petals, heat crawling up your neck.
He insisted on sketching you mid bite, smirking as he said, “Hold still, cutie. You’re my muse today, but only if you stop chewing like a chipmunk.” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, tossing a petal his way. The way he caught your wrist, his grip warm and lingering longer than necessary, made your pulse jump under his thumb, and for a second, neither of you moved, his breath hitching just enough for you to notice in the proximity.
Those lips of his were so close, curved in that teasing, familiar way, and you blushed hard when he noticed your stare, letting go with a soft chuckle. He snapped the first polaroid then, a candid photo of you laughing, petals in your hair. He pinned it to his sketchbook afterwards.
“First of many,” he murmured, voice dropping low, almost serious under the tease. You leaned in to see it, your shoulder brushing his chest. Maybe it was the sudden proximity that made his breath stutter, or maybe it was something neither of you had the courage to name out loud yet. Whichever it was, it made you pull back quickly, flustered.
The playful chase came later, you giggling as he “escaped” with your stolen sandwich, only to let you catch him. He pulled you into a hug that started shy, his arms loose around you, but then his lips brushed your neck by accident—or so he claimed.
“Oops,” he whispered against your skin, warm and not pulling away, sending a shiver straight down your spine. You froze, heart pounding, wanting to turn and kiss him right there, but the words stuck, insecurities whispering that maybe this was just his way, flirty and fleeting, playful.
You spent the rest of the afternoon under the tree, hands brushing as you shared snacks, the awkwardness easing into something warmer between you. It wasn't hard to guess that quality time like that was his thing, even early on. He craved it, “died” if you made him wait, and you started to see how his teasing nature hid that need for reassurance.
By the end of spring, those hesitant touches eventually led to your first kiss, in his studio after another “not-date”. The second his lips touched yours, it was like the whole world faded out, washed away by the waves.
He had paint smeared on his fingers, and you couldn't wait anymore. He looked so soft in the sunset light, so kissable, so you tugged him close mid laughter, your lips finally meeting his. The kiss was soft, tasting like sea salt and sweetness. Your hands clutched his shirt, fingers brushing his chest as he deepened it, hand on your neck like he was afraid you’d vanish or pull away from him.
When you finally pulled back, both breathless, he grinned shakily. “Took you long enough, cutie.” but his eyes were vulnerable, searching yours for confirmation. “I’m all in, Raf. I won’t leave you.” you’d whispered, and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath forever.
———
Summer crashed in like the waves near his studio, bold and heated, the beach festival a whirlwind of lanterns and salt air. Your relationship had changed a lot by then, no more tiptoeing around your feelings for each other.
Touches were bolder now, words freer, though insecurities still flared now and again. He dragged you through the crowd, shirt unbuttoned to show paint smudges on his chest from your earlier “fight” in his studio where he let you mark him all over with cute little doodles you made with your fingers as he grinned and pulled you closer, whining even though he loved every second of it.
The camera was slung around his neck, because nowadays it was always within reach of him, always one click away from immortalizing the love you shared, and how beautiful you were in his eyes, although the camera could never fully grasp that.
“Dance with me,” he demanded, spinning you under the lights, hands on your waist, fingers grazing your neck in a way that made your skin buzz. You accepted with a grin, heart doing flips as you pulled him closer.
“You’re stealing the show tonight,” he teased, lips hovering close, his breath warm.
You traced that chest mole playfully, whispering, “This is my favorite part of you. Happy and carefree…I like this side of you, Rafayel.” and you watched as his eyes darkened, pulling you flush against him.
The heat between you was undeniable now, and you had noticed his fixation on your neck and chest by now, showing in every lingering glance, every deliberate brush of his fingers on the soft skin there. He peppered kisses on your neck, then your cheek, both of you giggling as you lost yourself into the music and each other's embrace.
He snapped a polaroid mid dance, with you both tangled together, laughing and kissing—and tucked it away. Later, you stole it, running into the surf with him chasing, tackling you gently into the waves. His lips found your neck on purpose this time, placing a wet kiss that sent shivers through you despite the warm water.
“Mine, cutie. Where’d you think you're running to, hm?” he murmured against your skin, making you gasp, fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
Then there was that playful bet at the festival games, which you won and resulted in you picking the next date. You giggled as he groaned, “You’re cheating my heart. Hmph, not fair, I wanted to plan such a romantic escapade…” but blushed when you kissed his cheek, bold and easy. It felt natural, the way you’d grown into each other, arguments sharpening your bond instead of breaking it.
But summer wasn’t without storms. You missed his gallery event for a mission, duty pulling you away, and when you found him later on the beach, alone and staring at the waves, his pout was something akin to real hurt. It twisted your gut because you hated letting him down, hated the way his need for having you close clashed with your schedule.
You hugged him tight. “I’m sorry, Rafayel.” you whispered, reassuring him, and he kissed your chest softly, lovingly, like he was anchoring himself.
“I…I need you here,” he admitted, voice raw, and you held him closer, the reconciliation deepening what you had. He knew you couldn’t just ditch whatever mission the Association threw on you, he wasn’t irrational like that. Yet, your absence still hurt him at times. And lately, he started to let you see that.
———
By autumn, his studio felt like a second home for you, golden leaves blowing in through the open window, fairy lights casting a warm glow over the scattered paints and the pinboard now crowded with polaroids of the two of you.
Your connection had deepened so much after summer’s conflicts—arguments over small things, like forgotten dates or miscommunications, but they always ended with understanding, pulling you two closer than before.
You baked pastries together one afternoon, flour dusting his nose as he “accidentally” smeared some on your neck.
“Mmh, tastes better now,” he murmured, kissing it off, his lips warm and teasing on the curve of your neck. You laughed, tugging his shirt to reveal that chest mole you came to adore and kiss all the time—kissing it softly. You knew how much it affected him, you paying attention to these little details of his bodies. They were just so beautiful.
“Oh really? My turn, then.” you teased, and he blushed, pulling you onto his lap, hands on your waist like it was second nature for him to do so.
He reached for the camera on the couch and snapped a polaroid of you braced above him, hair messy and playful smile, looking so soft and sweet and like he couldn't get enough of you. He pinned it to the board as you rearranged the photos together, giggling over his “artistic order.”
“This is my favorite masterpiece,” he whispered, arm secured around your waist. You knew, even if he didn't say it, that he wanted—needed—reassurance at times. Your approval, to see you were on the same page as him when it came to how fiercely you both loved each other. So you nodded, whispering to him that it was just perfect, and then kissed him to express your honesty.
The playful paint fight after that started innocently enough, splattering colors until he pinned you against the wall, lips on your chest, paint smudging between you.
“You’re such a mess, cutie. Look at ya’...” he chuckled, eyes full of love. Touch was natural now, his hands always finding your neck or chest, yours seeking his lips or the constellation of moles painting his skin, insecurities fading as love rooted deeper. Flaws and all, you both fit together—arguments mending the cracks that inevitably appeared, but time together was the glue that always fixed it.
————
You linger by the pinboard a moment longer, thumb brushing over the curled edge of that summer polaroid—the one from the festival, where Rafayel’s arm is slung around your shoulders, both of you drenched from the surf, his lips pressed to your temple in a sneaky kiss you didn’t see coming. The memory pulls a soft smile from you, warmth spreading through your chest despite the chill seeping in from the open balcony. Autumn’s been kind this year, all golden leaves and crisp air that carries the faint salt of the bay, but it’s the little things pinned here that make the studio feel even more like yours. Like home.
A creak of floorboards behind you is the only warning before strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against a familiar chest. Rafayel’s breath fans warm against your ear, and his fingers dig in just enough to tickle, making you squirm and burst into giggles. “Gotcha,” he murmurs, voice low and smug, his chin hooking over your shoulder as he nuzzles into your hair. “Daydreaming again, cutie? Or just admiring my handiwork?”
You twist in his hold, still laughing, your hands coming up to push at his arms halfheartedly. “Rafayel! That tickles—mmph, stop!”
But you’re leaning into him anyway, the solid warmth of his body chasing away the autumn breeze. He smells like paint and that subtle ocean cologne he always wears, and up close, you can see the faint smudge of charcoal on his jaw from whatever he’s been sketching today.
He doesn’t necessarily stop, his fingers dance along your sides for another second before settling firm on your hips, holding you close.
“What? Can’t your boyfriend sneak up on his beloved muse?” his lips brush your neck then, soft and open-mouthed, a trail of gentle kisses that make your skin tingle and your breath hitch. You tilt your head without thinking, giving him more room, and he hums in approval, the sound vibrating against you. “Missed you. Even if it was just an hour.”
Your heart does that familiar squeeze, the one that’s become second nature around him.
“You’re such a baby, Raffie…” you tease back, but your voice comes out softer than you mean, laced with that affection you can’t hide anymore, “...But I missed you, too.”
You turn in his arms fully, facing him now. His violet hair is tousled, and his amethyst eyes are sparkling with mischief. He’s so freaking beautiful, and the way he looks at you in this moment, like you’re the only thing in his world, still makes your stomach flutter after all this time.
The rest of the afternoon slips by in that easy rhythm you’ve built, with him dragging you over to the couch with a dramatic groan about needing “inspiration,” which really means cuddling while he sketches random doodles of your hands intertwined. You bake more pastries later, the kitchenette filling with the scent of cinnamon and pumpkin, flour ending up everywhere as usual. He “helps” by stealing bites of dough as he does every time and smearing a streak across your cheek because he loves making a mess out of you, only to kiss it clean with a grin. “You’re so sweet…think I prefer you over the pastries anyday,” he says, pulling you onto his lap amid the mess, and you lose track of time trading lazy kisses until the oven dings.
There are arguments at times, too—small ones, like when he whines about you checking your phone during a movie night, his head in your lap as he pouts up at you. “Am I boring you already? Put that down, I’m right here.”
It stings a little, his insecurity peeking through like sunrays through half-opened curtains, but you set the phone aside, threading your fingers through his hair. “You’re never boring. I’m all yours.”
He relaxes then, turning to press a kiss to your palm, and the moment passes, leaving you closer somehow.
———
Autumn fades into winter soon, with cozy nights in the studio, walks along the bay bundled in his scarf, polaroids piling up on the board until you’re rearranging them together, laughing over the faded ones from last year. “We’ll surely need a bigger one very soon,” he mutters one evening, arms around you from behind again, chin on your shoulder. “Or maybe just toss the old spring stuff. We’ve got better now.” you suggest, pinning a new one from your date earlier.
By mid-winter, Linkon’s still stubbornly snow-free, the air sharp but dry, no flurries in sight. Rafayel’s been complaining about it nonstop, texts popping up on your phone like ‘where’s the snow, cutie? wanna see it with youuuu. sigh’
So when he suggests the cabin getaway, you jump on it. A snowy mountain spot, just the two of you, away from missions and his gallery deadlines. “It’ll be romantic,” he’d said over the phone last night, voice dropping low. “Fireplace, hot cocoa, me keeping you warm… Whatcha’ say?”
You’re grinning like an idiot now, alone in your apartment as you pack. Rafayel’s at his studio wrapping up a painting, giving you time to get ready before he picks you up. Your suitcase lies open on the bed, half-filled with cozy sweaters, thick socks, and that novel you’ve been meaning to read for a while. But your hands hover over the drawer, cheeks heating as you pull out the lingerie set you bought a few weeks back.
It was a total impulse. You’ve been shopping with Simone and Tara on a rare day off, wandering into that boutique by accident after spotting the window display. “Oh, come on, live a little!” Tara had teased, holding up something lacy, and before you knew it, you were in the fitting room, heart racing.
You’d bought a couple sets, but this one… this one’s bold. Red silk with intricate lace and broderie details that hug in all the right places, paired with above-the-knee fishnet thigh-highs that feel daring just to touch. Quite frankly, you’ve never worn anything like it. Your usual stuff is cute, comfortable, nothing this… seductive.
You hold it up now, fabric cool against your fingers, and a giggle bubbles out, giddy and a little nervous. What will Rafayel think? You can picture it already, how his eyes would widen, that teasing smirk fading into something much hungrier, his hands tracing the lace like it’s one of his paintings. The thought sends a thrill through you, warm and fluttering low in your belly.
You’ve come so far from those awkward spring days, where a simple brush of lips left you flustered for hours. Now, the idea of surprising him like this, seeing him unravel a bit… it makes you bite your lip, excitement mixing with that familiar anticipation.
You fold it carefully into the suitcase, tucking it under a sweater just in case, and zip up your bag. The mountains, snow blanketing everything, Rafayel pulling you close by the fire—it’s going to be perfect.
You check your phone, eyes already scanning where his text pops up, almost done hereee. can’t wait to see ya, cutie. pack warm… or don’t. i’ll handle the rest. ;)
Your laugh echoes in the quiet room, heart skipping as you grab your coat. Yeah, this getaway is going to be unforgettable.
———
The drive up the mountains feels like a dream you don't want to wake from, Rafayel's car humming steadily along the winding roads, tires gripping the packed snow without a slip. He insisted on this car instead of one of his flashy sports models— “Can't have us spinning out like idiots, cutie,” he’d said with a wink as he loaded your luggage in the back. You watched him handle the bags easily, his violet hair catching the weak winter sun, and something warm settled in your chest at how he always does that without a second thought, like it's just part of being with you.
The road trip flies by in that effortless way it always does with him. He cranks up the music, some indie playlist he swears is “perfect for snowy vibes”, and you both belt out the choruses off-key, laughing when he dramatically air-drums on the steering wheel at a red light. Teasing comes easy too, like when you snag the cable and play that cheesy pop song he pretends to hate.
“Oh, come on, admit it. You love this one,” you say, poking his arm. He shoots you a playful mock-glare, amethyst eyes narrowing. “It’s only because you're cute when you dance in your seat like that.”
His hand finds yours over the console, thumb stroking your knuckles absently, and you feel that lightness bubble up inside you again. With Rafayel, everything’s weightless—happy, carefree, like the world's worries melt away. He pulls out this playful side of you without even trying, the one where you feel content just existing in the moment, no missions or deadlines hanging over your head.
By the time you pull up to the cabin, tucked away in the mountains hours away from Linkon, the sky's a soft gray, and snow blankets everything in sight. Thick on the ground, dusting the pine trees, piling up on the roof like a postcard. You step out of the car, breath fogging in the crisp air, and a shiver runs through you as you take it all in. No snow back home yet, just bare streets and chill winds, but here it's a winter wonderland, quiet and pristine.
“Whoa,” you murmur, boots crunching as you turn in a slow circle, giggling at how the cold nips at your cheeks and nose. Rafayel grabs the luggage from the trunk, hauling it toward the wooden door with a grunt.
“Go on inside, I'll get this,” he calls over his shoulder, but you follow anyway, peeking into the cozy space. Fireplace waiting to be lit, plush rugs, windows framing the snowy view.
He’s back out before you can even process, that playful smirk tugging at his lips as he spots you standing there, mesmerized by the scenery. His violet hair's a bit windswept from the drive, cheeks pink from the biting cold.
“Earth to Miss Bodyguard,” he says, voice teasing, and before you can react, he lunges forward, tackling you gently into the snowbank beside the path. You yelp as you both go down, the cold powder puffing up around you, soaking through your light jacket and jeans.
“Rafayel!” you huff, laughing yet jokingly scolding as you grab a handful of snow and smack it against his chest playfully. Flakes cling to his hair, making him look even more boyish, and you feel that giddy rush hit you. “We're not dressed properly, we'll catch a cold out here!”
He chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling against you as he props himself up on his elbows, caging you in without crushing you. “Oh, please. Where's your sense of adventure?”
His eyes sparkle with mischief, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that chases away the chill instantly. It's warm and insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's been waiting for this all drive, and you melt into it, fingers curling into his jacket. He pulls back just enough to grab a loose handful of snow, scattering it over your head with a grin. Cold flakes trickle down your neck, and you gasp, squirming under him.
“Seriously!” you say, but you're giggling too hard to sound mad, scooping up snow and tossing it right at his face. It hits his cheek, melting against his warm skin, and he shakes it off like a puppy, laughing as he dodges your next throw.
The playfight lasts until you're both breathless, snow in your hair and clothes, cheeks flushed from the cold and the fun. But then a deeper shiver runs through you, teeth chattering a bit, and Rafayel notices right away, his expression softening. He stands, pulling you up with him, arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close.
“Alright, alright, truce,” he says, voice tender now as he brushes snow from your shoulders. “Come on, inside before you turn into an icicle.” He guides you toward the door, one arm slung protectively around you, and you lean into his side, feeling that affectionate warmth radiate from him.
Once you're through the threshold, he kicks the door shut behind you, rubbing your arms briskly to warm you up. “See? Told ya’ I'd make sure you don't catch a cold,” he teases gently, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Don't worry, cutie. I've got you.”
His tone's light, but the way he holds you says he means it, and you feel that carefree happiness settle in again, easy as breathing with him.
———
You drag your suitcase into the bedroom while Rafayel heads off to fiddle with the fireplace in the living room, the crackle of kindling already starting up as you unzip the bag. You unpack methodically, folding sweaters into drawers and hanging up a coat, but when your fingers brush the red lingerie set tucked at the bottom, a sheepish smile creeps onto your face. Heat rises to your cheeks at the thought of slipping it on later, imagining his reaction, his hands tracing the lace slowly. You shiver slightly in anticipation and tuck it away in the back of a drawer under some socks, out of sight to keep the surprise intact, and quickly school your expression back to neutral before any telltale blush gives you away.
With everything sorted, you grab your toiletries and head to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water steams up the mirror as you rinse off the chill from outside, letting the warmth soak into your skin. Rafayel busies himself elsewhere—you hear him clattering around in the kitchen, the sizzle of something on the stove, the faint scent of herbs drifting under the door. It feels nice, this domestic rhythm, him handling dinner while you freshen up.
You step out wrapped in a towel, hair damp and loose over your shoulders, and perch on the edge of the bed to brush it out. The bristles tug gently through the tangles, and you’re lost in the motion when you catch movement in the mirror. Rafayel slips into the room behind you, sneaky with that sheepish grin tugging at his lips, violet hair still a bit messy from the snow. He settles right behind you on the bed, his chest pressing warm against your back as he leans in, lips brushing soft kisses along your neck.
A giggle escapes you at the tickle of his breath, and you tilt your head a little to give him better access. “Sneaky.” you breathe out softly, grinning, “Missed me already? It’s only been like 30 minutes.” you murmur, setting the brush down but not pulling away.
His hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer into him, fingers splaying over the towel. “Couldn’t resist, those were the longest 30 minutes,” he whispers against your skin, voice low and playful. You feel his smile there, the way his body relaxes against yours.
You twist a bit to look at him, nose wrinkling. “You smell like food. What’d you make?”
He chuckles, nipping lightly at your earlobe before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “Come find out, cutie. It’s a surprise.”
You roll your eyes but smile, and he lets go with a reluctant squeeze, giving you space to get changed. You slip into comfy clothes—a soft sweater and pants—while he waits in the hall, and then you join him in the kitchen. The cabin smells amazing now, warm and inviting with the fire going strong in the next room. You wrap your arms around his neck from behind as he stirs something on the stove, pulling him down for a sweet kiss that lingers a second longer than you planned.
Pulling back, you take in the space—the wooden beams overhead, the snow piling up outside the window, the cozy glow from the lights. “This place is nice,” you say, leaning into him. “I’m glad we came. But if I knew you just wanted to see snow with me so you could dump it all over my head, I would’ve said no.”
He laughs, the sound bright and easy, and turns to face you fully, smirking as he pulls you closer by the waist. “Guilty,” he admits, nuzzling into your neck, inhaling deep. His nose brushes your skin, and you feel him pause, breathing you in. “You smell good, though. Really good.”
Heat creeps back into your cheeks instantly. You’d spritzed on that new perfume after the shower, light and floral. You swat his arm lightly. “Flatterer.” But you don’t move away, just let him hold you there in the warm kitchen.
You pull back from the kiss after a few more giggles bubble up between you, your cheeks still warm from his closeness. Your stomach growls right then, loud enough to make you both pause, and you grab his hand, tugging him toward the stove. “C’mon, let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Rafayel grins, letting you lead him as you help set the table, plates clinking softly, silverware rattling a bit in your hands. He serves up the food he made, some simple pasta with herbs and grilled veggies that smells amazing, and you both sit down across from each other. Dinner goes easy, like always with him. Forks scraping plates, you stealing a bite from his side, him rolling his eyes but pushing his plate closer. You talk about the drive up, laughing over that one song you both messed up the lyrics to, and the warmth from the fire seeps into the room, making everything feel settled.
Once you’re done, Rafayel clears the dishes with a quick kiss to your cheek. “My turn for a shower,” he says, heading off while you tidy up the last bits. You hear the water running, and by the time he comes back out, hair damp and skin fresh, you’re already on the couch, flipping through your phone idly.
He shows up with an armful of blankets. Thick, puffy ones that look like they could bury you both, and you can’t help giggling at the sight. “What, planning to hibernate?” you ask, scooting over as he dumps them down.
“Can’t have you freezing on me, cutie. Gotta keep you warm and comfortable, yeah?” he replies, voice light as he arranges them around you. He pulls you into his lap once he’s settled, wrapping the blankets tight over both of you, his arms coming around your waist to hold you close. You feel his breath on your neck first, warm and steady, then his lips follow peppering light kisses, soft and lingering, trailing along your skin. You tilt your head, fingers sliding into his damp hair, brushing through the strands slowly as a content sigh escapes you.
“What should we do tomorrow?” you murmur, eyes half-closed from how cozy it all feels.
He hums against your neck, lips pausing between kisses. “Hiking, maybe? Or just wander around in the snow,” His suggestions come easy. You also suggest building a snowman, finding a hot spring nearby, and you both go back and forth, voices low and relaxed as you plan your day, snuggling closer in the blanket.
Then he shifts a little, sounding sheepish. “We need to add more photos to the board, though. Got a few from today already developing in my bag.”
You giggle, nodding as you turn in his lap to face him better. You saw him fish out the camera a few times today so you already knew that.
“Yeah, we do. There’s not much space left, but we’ve gotta keep the memories going.”
You cup his face, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s soft at first, lips brushing gentle. It deepens slowly, his hands tightening on your hips to pull you closer, your body pressing into his. The kisses turn heated but still languid, no rush, just the steady build of warmth between you.
Lost in the feel of him, you think back on how your relationship shifted into this intimacy over the seasons, starting tentative and growing sweeter each time. Spring had those first careful touches, summer the bolder ones during late-night talks on the beach, autumn the easy closeness in his studio. Your first time having sex came in early summer, after a beach date that ended back at his place. It was romantic and slow, him so careful with you, hands gentle as he undressed you, whispering how much he wanted this. It was breathtakingly heated, his body over yours, taking his time until you were both breathless, and he held you all night until dawn, kissing your forehead every time you stirred awake, wanting more.
You keep kissing him now, slow and deep, then trail your lips over his jaw, down to his neck, smiling against the soft skin there. “I went looking for a bigger board when I was shopping with Simone the other day,” you say between kisses. “Saw this gorgeous photo album instead, so I bought it. It’s big enough, so we can rearrange the polaroids together tomorrow night. What do you say?”
He pulls back a bit, pleasantly surprised, his eyes widening before he laughs softly. “Yeah? That’s perfect.”
Then his expression turns serious, and he kisses you deep, smirking against your lips as he murmurs, “You’re just finding excuses to be with me all the time, huh? Can’t get enough of me?”
You know he’s joking, but there’s that layer underneath, the one that he keeps tucked away but you know he needs to hear it coming from you. You kiss the tip of his nose gently, whispering, “Yeah, but I don’t need any excuses to be with you. I can just be, with or without the polaroids.”
He gulps, his eyes softening as they lock onto yours, lost in that deep gaze you know so well. He leans in and kisses you again, slow and tender, his lips warm against yours.
The evening stretches out cozy after that. You both stay tangled on the couch, the blankets wrapped around you like a nest. He pulls you closer every few minutes, his hands running lightly over your back as you talk about nothing important. You laugh when he nuzzles into your neck again, whispering about how cold the cabin still feels even with the fire going.
“Gotta keep you warm, so let’s just stay like this all night, hm?” he says, but you both know it’s just an excuse to hold you tight. You cling back, your arms around his waist, giggling as you bury your face in his chest. His violet hair tickles your forehead, and you feel his heartbeat steady under your cheek.
You head to bed later, still kissing as you slip under the sheets. He clings to you right away, legs tangling with yours, his body pressed close. “Warm enough now?” he asks, voice playful, but his hands stay soft, just holding you.
You laugh and nod, pulling him in for another kiss. His touch wanders a little, fingers tracing your sides and hips without pushing further. You feel the want in him, the way his breath catches when you shift closer, but he doesn’t say a word about it. You let him explore like that, your own hands on his back, until sleep pulls you both under.
In the middle of the night—or what you assume is the middle of the night—you stir awake. He’s cuddled up behind you, his nose nuzzled into your neck, his arm heavy around your waist. You feel his bulge pressing against your ass, hard and warm through his clothes.
You don’t say anything at first, assuming he’s asleep. Deep down, you like how you can make him like this without even trying. And you love him for going to sleep anyway, despite wanting more, because he never pushes you for anything. Never pushes for sex or certain things, even with how insatiable he gets in bed, confident and cocky when things heat up, but loving and tender too. He never rushes you, never asks for more unless he’s sure you want it just as badly as he does. And fuck, do you want it. Rafayel made you insatiable, and just as needy as him. Before you knew it, you craved his touch all the time, his nearness like a habit you can’t break.
You open your eyes and look at the window. Soft morning light seeps in, gray and gentle. You breathe slowly, shifting a bit in his arms. He moves too, his hold tightening as he whispers into your neck, “Are you awake?”
You whisper back, “Yeah.” you turn your face toward him a little. “Why are you up so early? Are you okay?”
His hot mouth kisses the back of your neck, sweeping your hair aside with his free hand. You feel his hips stay still, even though he’s hard against you. You bite your lip at how considerate he is, even now.
He gives you a little white lie, mumbling something about just waking up randomly, his voice husky and sleepy. You take one of his hands from your waist and bring it to your face, kissing his palm soft, nuzzling into it. The way he acts makes you want him, arousal pooling between your legs, your underwear getting wet.
You shift your hips slowly against him, whispering, “Can I help somehow? Maybe brush my fingers through your hair until you fall back asleep, or make you some tea?”
You say it while moving your hips over his bulge again, slow and purposeful. He exhales sharp against your neck. Then you guide his hand down your body, cupping your clothed breast with your hand over his, pressing gently. “Would that help?”
His kisses on your neck turn firm, moving up until he sucks on your earlobe. He whispers, “Sounds like you got more ideas on how to help me…”
You nod, a soft sigh escaping as you feel his hips buckle against your ass.
“I do, yeah,” you say, your voice breathy and low, turning your head more to catch his eye in the dim light.
He exhales again, his mouth brushing your ear as he whispers, “Yeah? Why don’t you tell me, then… how else would you help me, hm?” his tone is teasing, but husky, his lips pressing a firm kiss to the spot just below your ear after he speaks.
You shift your hips back against him once more, feeling the hard length of him press into you through the thin layers, sending a warm ache spreading low in your belly.
“Well, since you’re not up for tea or a head massage, how about… ah, something sweet?” you murmur, the words catching a little as his hand on your breast squeezes gently, his thumb circling over the fabric, making your nipple tighten under his touch.
He chuckles softly against your skin, his hips grinding slow against yours now, the friction building heat between you under the sheets. “Like breakfast in bed?” he asks, his voice rougher, lips trailing kisses down your neck as he speaks, sucking lightly at the base where it meets your shoulder.
You arch a bit into his hand, the sensation of his palm warm and steady on your breast making your skin tingle, your breath coming quicker.
“Mmhmm, it’s still early, the sun’s about to rise…” you reply, your words soft and drawn out, glancing at the window where the gray light is starting to brighten.
His hand slides down your side, gripping your hip to pull you tighter against him, and you feel him grind again, intentional this time, the pressure making your pussy throb with need.
“Mm, and where would you get me something sweet this early?” he murmurs into your neck, his kisses turning open-mouthed now, tongue flicking out to taste your skin as he shifts his weight, rolling you gently onto your back beneath him.
You let him move you, your legs parting slightly as he braces himself above you, his arms on either side of your head, violet hair falling forward to brush your forehead. The sheets tangle around your hips, and you feel his body settle between your thighs, his hardness pressing right against your heat, sending sparks through you with each subtle shift.
“Well…how about here?” you say, your voice playful but honed with want, spreading your legs wider to wrap them around his waist, pulling him closer. The heat of his body settling fully between your thighs. His bulge presses against your pussy through the thin layers, sending a fresh wave of warmth pulsing through you.
“Here?” Rafayel says, his voice low and teasing, as his fingers trail lightly over your body, brushing your shoulder, then your arm, skipping down to your thigh but avoiding where you ache for him most. It’s playful, his touch light and random, making you giggle and grin up at him, while he smirks softly, eyes sparkling in the morning light.
You cling to him tighter, your hands sliding up into his violet hair, fingers threading through the damp strands as you draw him down for a kiss. Your lips meet soft and sweet, the lazy morning making everything feel unhurried, his mouth warm against yours.
“Lower…” you say, your voice breathy and grinning, breaking the kiss just enough to speak.
He grinds against you subtly, his hips shifting as he whispers, drawn out and teasing, “Lower? Suuure, but it’s hard to see where exactly, with all these clothes in the way…” his hand slips under your pajama shirt, fingers tracing your stomach lightly, making your skin tingle and your breath hitch.
You kiss him again, deeper this time, your tongues brushing slow, and you cling even closer, legs tightening around him. “We can’t have that, can we?” you whisper, teasing back, then add with a soft gasp as his fingers graze higher, “It’s your sweet treat, after all… a-ah, so enjoy it how you want, Raf…”
His touch on your skin feels electric, his palms warm and firm as they slide up your sides, making your body arch into him, heat building low in your belly.
“So thoughtful of you…” he whispers, smiling against your skin as he tugs your pajama shirt up and off, leaving you in just your panties. He tosses it aside, then leans in to kiss your collarbone. “Then sit back and relax for me, yeah? Want to enjoy it, take my sweet time…”
He starts kissing down your body, his lips soft and lingering on your breasts, then your stomach, smiling as he whispers little teases at your reactions—your soft sighs, the way you squirm under him. Your hands stay in his hair, tugging gently, and you feel every kiss send shivers through you, your skin heating up wherever his mouth lands.
You spread your legs a bit more under his guidance, feeling his hands on your thighs, warm and firm as he settles between them. His soft hair brushes your inner thighs, tickling the sensitive skin there, making you shiver. He keeps your legs bent, your thighs bracketing his head close, and the closeness sends heat rushing through you, your core aching already from all the teasing.
“Spread wider, baby…” Rafayel whispers, his voice low and rough against your skin, eyes locked on yours in the dim morning light.
You do, biting your lower lip through a smile, the stretch making your muscles tense and release, warmth building low in your belly.
“Good girl, so inviting…” he teases, his tone playful but edged with want, as he leans in and kisses slowly over your underwear. He lingers there, lips pressing soft and purposeful, the pressure making you wetter with each touch. He doesn’t move to take them off, just keeps kissing and licking softly over the fabric, inhaling your scent deep, his breath hot against you. The sensation builds slowly, your body responding with a fresh rush of wetness soaking through, your hips twitching under him.
You squirm a little, the tickle of his hair on your thighs mixing with the warmth of his mouth, sending sparks up your spine.
“A-ahh, you said there’s too many clothes in the way…” you moan softly, squirming more, your voice breathy and broken. “S-Shouldn’t you…take these off, too? Mhmm…” Another moan slips out as his touches make your skin flush hot, especially when he lets out a little giggle against your clothed pussy, the vibration humming through you and making your walls clench tight.
He kisses deeper, his hands sliding up your thighs to hold you steady, thumbs rubbing circles that make your legs tremble. “Mmm, but I like seeing you squirm a bit,” he teases, flattening his tongue on the wet material, the pressure firm and slow, his voice muffled but smirking. “Makes me think you’re even more eager than I am…”
You feel him grin against you, his ministrations keeping up, licks and kisses drawing out the ache until it’s almost too much. “Please…” you moan in a whisper, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling him closer as your body arches toward him.
Rafayel’s breath fans hot over your soaked panties, his tongue pressing firmer now, and he lets out a low moan of his own, the sound vibrating through you. “I want to keep you in bed all day… can I?” he says, his voice husky and low between licks, eyes flicking up to meet yours as he kisses right over your clit through the fabric.
You gasp, your hips bucking up into his mouth, whimpers spilling out as his mouth builds the pressure in your belly tighter. “I thought you brought us here to enjoy the snow?” you tease him through gasps and whimpers, your words shaky, fingers gripping his hair harder.
He moans softly against you, the sound muffled as he gives your throbbing pussy kitten licks, his hands sliding up your thighs to hold you open. “We can enjoy it from here. You can enjoy the scenery through the window while I…” he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slips them very slowly down your legs, the cool air hitting your wet skin and making you shiver. “…enjoy this.”
You moan louder as he exposes you fully, your body trembling under his gaze, the ache between your legs throbbing harder. “A-ah… but you’ve seen that plenty of times before. Mmh, there’s nothing new or special about it…” you say, your voice breathy and teasing, even as you squirm from the way his breath ghosts over your bare slit.
Rafayel leans in closer, his tongue darting out to gather your essence slowly, moaning low in his throat at the taste. “No matter how many times I see it, it’s still as pretty every time,” he says, his words murmured between gentle licks over your slit, his tongue flat and warm. He pauses to kiss your clit softly, then adds, “Beautiful, and so responsive to me…” he teases with a smirk, sucking lightly on your clit now, making you whimper and arch higher.
All his little touches has your orgasm building steady, your skin flushing hot, breaths coming in short pants. He picks up the pace a little, his licks turning firmer, circling your clit as he moans again, enjoying how wet you get under his mouth, the slick sounds mixing with your sweet moans.
“Like melting snow, she is also very wet…” he says, his voice playful and rough, as he brushes his thumb upwards on your slit, pressing just enough to make you squirm and moan louder, your thighs squeezing around his head.
You arch higher into his mouth, your fingers digging deeper into his violet hair as he laps at you, the warmth of his tongue sending jolts through your core. Your thighs tremble around his head, the tickle of his hair against your skin mixing with the building pressure inside you.
“F-Feels so good, baby…” you moan, your voice high and breathy, hips grinding up against his face without thinking.
Rafayel picks up the pace, alternating between slow, dragging licks and faster flicks of his tongue until he hits that perfect rhythm—the one he knows drives you insane, making your toes curl and your breath come in short gasps. He moans low against your slit, the vibration humming straight through you, sucking on your clit before teasing his tongue inside, shallow and probing.
“T-there, please…” you whimper, arching off the bed into his mouth, your back bowing as pleasure spikes sharp in your belly.
He groans into you, the sound muffled and rough, his hands gripping your thighs firmer to keep your legs open when you try to close them instinctively. Your orgasm coils tight and so close, your walls clenching around nothing, every flick of his tongue pushing you even closer.
“O-Ohhh, just like t-that… I’m… I’m close…” you moan, your voice shaking, fingers tugging at his hair as your body tenses.
Rafayel groans louder, lapping faster now, his tongue circling your clit relentlessly. He holds you steady, his flushed cheeks pressing against your inner thighs, and you feel his own breath hitch, his body shifting like he’s grinding subtly against the mattress.
“R-Rafayel… don’t s-stop, I’m… gonna cum…” you moan loudly, eyes rolling back as you gasp in ecstasy, your walls squeezing hard around nothing while waves crash through you. “Ohhh f-fuck…” you gasp, body going rigid for a second before you shudder and settle, breathing harshly, your chest heaving.
He groans and laps at your pussy gently, drawing out every last tremor until you finally come down, your limbs going limp against the sheets.
“Mmh, such a sweet treat, indeed,” he says with a smirk, licking his lips slowly, his hungry amethyst eyes boring into your hazy ones. His face is all flushed, cheeks pink, lips swollen and shiny from you, and you desperately want to kiss him, taste yourself on his mouth.
He keeps pressing soft kisses to your sensitive pussy, making you squirm and giggle from the overstimulation, and he smirks up at you as you grab his arms, pulling him upwards. You kiss him hard, grinning into his mouth, tongues tangling slow and messy. Between kisses, you feel something very wet against your thigh, and you glance down, breathless, seeing the dark stain on the front of his boxers. It’s way too much for just precum, soaked through, and you giggle, looking back at him stunned and blushing.
“Did… did you cum?” you ask breathlessly, grinning like a fool, biting your lip as warmth floods your cheeks.
He answers with a little smirk, squeezing your thigh gently, his fingers warm and sticky from you. “Don’t be so surprised,” he murmurs, biting softly below your ear, making you moan and giggle at the same time. “It’s not like it’s the first time it happens, anyway…” his voice trails off, smug and low, his breath hot against your skin.
You blush harder, your mind flashing back to those other times. There was that one time in summer in his studio after a heated makeout session on his couch, him going down on you just like right now until he tensed up and came in his pants without a single touch, groaning your name into your thigh.
Or that night a month ago in your apartment, tangled in your sheets, his mouth between your legs while you gripped his hair, and he shuddered against you, spilling untouched just from your moans and the taste of you.
Each time, he’d play it off with that same teasing grin, but you saw the flush on his cheeks, felt how much he loved getting you off like that. It made you feel wanted, powerful, and you pull him closer now, kissing him deeper.
You lie there tangled with Rafayel for a while longer, his arms wrapped around you as you nuzzle into his neck. His skin feels warm against yours, and you kiss him slowly, lips brushing lazy over his jaw and mouth. He hums softly, pulling you closer, and you both doze off again, breaths syncing up in the quiet morning light.
When the sun finally creeps higher, filling the room with a soft glow, you stir and slip out of bed. Rafayel mumbles something sleepy, his hand reaching for you, but you kiss his forehead quickly. “Shower,” you say, and he nods, eyes half-closed.
The water wakes you up, hot and steaming as you freshen up and go through your morning routine, feeling the last bits of drowsiness fade. You dry off and slip into fresh clothes, a loose shirt and shorts, hair still damp.
Back in the bedroom, you see the bed’s already made with clean sheets, smooth and tucked in. Rafayel walks in right then, shirtless in low-hanging sweatpants that show off the lines of his hips. His violet hair’s messy from sleep, amethyst eyes bright as he carries a tray with pancakes stacked high, syrup dripping a little.
“Figured you’d want something sweet after all that,” he says with a teasing grin, setting the tray on the bed and climbing in beside you.
You feel your cheeks heat up at the reminder, but you grab the fork anyway, cutting a piece. With a teasing smile, you hold it up to his mouth. “Your turn first.”
He leans in, taking the bite slow, his lips brushing your fingers on purpose. Syrup sticks to his mouth, and he licks it off, eyes locked on yours. “Mmm, but I already had my sweet treat this morning,” he murmurs in a low and playful tone.
You blush hard, giggling as you push at his chest lightly. “Shut up,” you say, but there’s no heat in it, just that flutter in your stomach from how he looks at you.
You push at Rafayel’s chest again, your giggle bubbling up as you feel the warmth of his skin under your palm. He doesn’t budge, just leans in closer with that smirk, his amethyst eyes locked on yours. You grab the fork tighter and take a bite of the pancakes yourself, the syrup sweet on your tongue, and he watches you chew, his hand resting on your thigh under the covers.
You hold up another piece for him. He takes it this time without teasing, his lips closing around the fork, but he pulls you in for a quick kiss right after, tasting like maple syrup on your tongue.
You laugh into his mouth, the sound muffled, and pull back just enough to breathe. He steals another kiss, his hand sliding up your leg, and you swat him away playfully, both of you cracking up as the tray wobbles on the bed.
You finish the pancakes like that, feeding each other bites between kisses and giggles. His fingers trace lazy circles on your skin, making you shiver a little, and you lean into him, your head on his shoulder as you lick syrup from your thumb. He watches you do it, eyes darkening for a second, but then he grins and wipes a drop from your chin with his own thumb, popping it into his mouth. “Missed a spot, cutie.”
By the time the plate’s empty, the sun’s higher, streaming through the window and warming the room. You feel lazy and content, but the view outside pulls at you, snow-covered trees and mountains making for a heavenly scenery, “We should get up,” you say, stretching as you slide out of bed. “Don’t wanna waste the day.”
Rafayel groans dramatically, flopping back against the pillows. “Buuut the bed’s so warm with you in it.”
You roll your eyes and toss his shirt at him from the floor, and he catches it with a laugh, sitting up to pull it on.
You both get ready quickly. Brushing teeth side by side in the bathroom, him bumping your hip on purpose while you fix your hair. He steals the toothpaste from your hand, grinning around his own toothbrush, and you splash water at him, both of you laughing through the foam.