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You wake to wet heat.
Your eyes snap open to darkness, to the sensation of something no, someone between your thighs. A lush mouth working you with deliberate, filthy precision before you're even fully conscious.
You try to sit up, but your body is heavy, warm, and filmed with sweat that beads along your hairline and drips between your breasts.
Lilac hair spills over your hips, shoulder-length and silken, catching what little light filters through the curtains. Your eyes fix on him in your low lit room. Focusing on the pearlescent scales scattered across his bare shoulders like moonlight made flesh and the blue fins lining his ears. Delicate and translucent, fluttering as he groans against your thigh.
You're naked…
He's naked…
Your duvet is kicked off somewhere at the foot of the bed, useless and forgotten. And your skin feels fever-hot, slick with perspiration that has nothing to do with the room's temperature and everything to do with the way he's already devouring you.
He freezes suddenly. His head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise.
"You're awake," he breathes, voice rough with little disbelief. He pulls back, lips glistening, confusion flickering across those inhuman features.
You try to scramble back, away from where he was holding you. Adrenaline finally overrides the haze of pleasure, but his hands tighten on your thighs. You push against his shoulders and it's like pushing against a massive wave. He doesn't budge. He doesn't even pretend to struggle.
"W-what the fuck…" you gasp. Your voice sounds thin and pathetic compared to the weight of him.
“I knew you were special but I didn’t expect this,” The creature offers you a slight grin.
He tilts his head, watching you with something like fascination. His pupils are still blown wide, dark and hungry, but the drunken haze has sharpened into something predatory, something aware.
He licks his lips and smiles.
"Hm?" he asks, and his voice has dropped an octave. "Your body is being very honest right now."
The scaly creature drags one thumb down, tracing the slickness he finds there, and you flinch at the contact, oversensitive. He holds up his hand, watching as it glistens in the moonlight, and his grin turns wicked.
"Wow, just look at you," he coos, almost to himself. He brings his fingers to his coral lips, tasting you with a slow deliberate lick while staring directly into your eyes. He moans low, then chuckles; amused by your unease, savoring your reaction as much as your flavor.
"Stop! What are you-?" you start, but he cuts you off with a laugh, low and rich.
"Stop?" He asks, completely ignoring your other question. "I've been feeding from sleeping cattle for centuries. Do you know how boring that is?" He leans forward, crowding you, and you feel heat radiating off him. "But oh you— you’ve managed to awaken."
He grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and his thumb traces your lower lip with possessive reverence. "I can taste your fear. Do you know what that does to me?"
You try to turn your head, and he tightens his grip. You could tell he was holding back. That the only reason you're not broken is because he's choosing not to break you.
"Please," you whisper, and you hate how it sounds like begging.
"Please?" he mocks with a fake pout on his face. He releases your jaw, his hand drifting down to collar your throat, then lower, spanning your chest until it settles possessive and heavy over your stomach. He holds it there, feeling you breathe, feeling the soft give of flesh where your womb lies.
"What exactly are you pleading for?" he asks.
You gulp, not offering a real response. He shifts, and you feel the hard line of him against your core. He groans at the contact, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, and when he opens them again they're glowing. Actually glowing, with an eerie sapphire light spilling from them.
"I’m not finished," he says matter-of-factly, delivered with the kind of arrogance that makes your stomach flip. "You woke up too soon, cutie. And I’m still hungry.”
"Get off me," you say, pushing at his chest, and he catches your wrists. One hand, easily, pinning both of yours above your head.
"Make me," he breathes, sounding a bit too excited at your attempt to push him off. "Fight me. Scream. I want to feel you struggle while I take what I need."
His weight shifts down your own, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your torso. His soft lips land on your tummy, nibbling a bit before finally dipping lower. He settles between your legs, letting the heat there tease him. His tongue draws a slow, deliberate line up your inner thigh.
You chew your bottom lip, biting back a moan. Refusing to give the creature what he wanted. He notices anyway. He notices everything.
"There's that sound," he croons, dragging his tongue up slowly, deliberately, watching your face twist with the effort of staying silent. "Give it to me. Stop pretending to be scared."
"I am scared," you choke out and he laughs against your skin. The vibration makes you arch involuntarily.
"Don’t be. I’m here to make you feel good," Without another word, Rafayel’s tongue slicks out in one long, indulgent stroke between your folds from bottom to top. He places a gentle kiss onto your clit.
He withdraws and you buck against the sudden absence, gasping.
"Y-you—!"
"Rafayel," he says, as if reminding a pet of their manners.
You gape at him. "What?"
"You will call me by my name." He waits, immovable. "Rafayel."
"Raf..rafayel?" You practice it on your lips.
"Precisely." Amusement shadows his voice. He presses another wet, open kiss to your clit, then seals his lips around you. He swishes his wet tongue back and forth against the sensitive nub and you arch up against his mouth involuntarily.
The sounds he makes are filthy and obscene. Desperate slurps that send heat flooding through you. You feel yourself leak onto his tongue, and he laps it up greedily. He pulls back and then spits.
You whine, eyes squeezing shut, but his hand replaces his mouth, rubbing the wetness in slow circles before pinching your clit between thumb and forefinger. He studies you like an artist with a canvas.
"Beautiful," he hums.
Rafayel drags his fingers lower, watching your face as he pushes into your heat. His fingers are long, thick, and you reach down instinctively to slow him. He catches your hand, a soft tsk of disapproval, and pins it to the mattress harshly, like you're merely inconveniencing him.
Then he's scissoring those two thick digits into your gummy walls. You look down and there's nothing but filth. The wet slap of his fingers and your mess dripping all the way down to his wrist. Utterly humiliating.
He watches you with possession, like your ruin feeds him. His thumb finds your clit, circling in time with the deep, perfect stroke of his fingers. You're melting. Your eyes flutter shut as you peak.
He pulls out.
"Please I- I’m so close!" You whine at the sudden loss. Nearly throwing a tantrum.
"I want to taste as you cum." He says bluntly. Then his mouth is on you again.
There is no build-up. He's back inside you immediately, fingers curling rough and deep against your fluttering walls while his mouth seals over your clit to ruin you. You can feel every ridge of him. The stretch burning sweet and violent, your cunt gripping tight then loosening helplessly as he works you.
Your slick walls spasm around the intrusion, muscles clenching down like they can't decide whether to pull him deeper or push him out, but he forces them open, fucking into that tight heat with a hunger that feels desperate, violent.
"Fahh… Rafahh-"
You're babbling, words dissolving into broken sounds that mean nothing. He groans against your soaked flesh. The vibration tramples straight through you and his tongue.
His spongy muscle is hot and demanding. Thrusting inside alongside his fingers, stretching your walls around the impossible fullness. He laps messily, groaning like a starving man at a feast.
It was all too much.
"Still not enough," he rasps, pulling back just enough to speak. His chin drips with you, and there's a cracked, desperate groan building in his throat. He hooks a heavy arm around your left leg and tugs, manhandling you against his mouth with a primal lack of grace.
He adds a third finger and your hips drag backward, trying to flee the intrusion. Two had already stretched you burning and full, but this, this is just torture. He yanks you back down with a low, devilish laugh.
"You can take it, princess."
The pressure coils deep in your belly, building hot and relentless. The room fills with filthy sounds.
Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.
His three fingers fucking your warm walls, tongue lapping in obscene rhythm. Your hips shake violently.
"Can't- God, please—!"
"Raf-a-yel," he corrects you, the word vibrating against your soaked flesh. He slurps up your arousal greedily, that wicked tongue finding your clit again, and you sob. He assaults the spot inside you. The one that makes your walls flutter and grip as if he owns it.
Your walls spasm, clamping down hard around his fingers, and then you're shattering. Screaming, coming apart under his tongue while he drinks you down like wine. He doesn't stop. He can't. You feel it in the grind of his nose against your swollen clit, his tongue still working, prolonging every pulse, milking you dry until you're sobbing, wrung out.
"Fuck! Ahh… Fuck you!"
"That’s not much of a thank you." He jokes. Lifting up and licking the remaining juices from his fingers while making that dangerous eye contact with you again.
He grinds against you, and you feel the length of him. Thick, impossibly so, with a ridge along the underside that doesn't feel human. He's leaking, you realize. There's a slickness spreading between your bodies, warm and copious, and when he pulls back slightly to look down at himself, you follow his gaze.
Your breath catches. Terror spikes cold in your chest.
His cock is beautiful yet terrifying. Pale and scattered with pearlescent scales like the rest of him, but where he should be leaking clear precum, there's something else. Something that glows faintly in the dark. Tiny, glistening orbs, purple and translucent, bead at his slit and slide down his length, mixing with the slick fluid that coats him. They look like fish eggs. Like caviar. Like something that should be incubating in deep ocean trenches, not here and especially not on you.
"What the—" you choke, trying to scramble back, but he has you caged underneath him. "What is that?"
Rafayel looks down at himself, then back at you with a twisted smile. He wraps his hand around himself, stroking slowly, deliberately, milking more of those strange, glowing eggs from his slit. They spill over his fingers, onto your stomach, and you feel them. Warm, pulsing slightly, before they dissolve into that pearlescent slick.
"My nature," he purrs, leaning down to capture your mouth before you can scream.
He forces your lips open with his tongue skilled, insistent, curling against yours with a dominance that makes your head spin. He tastes fresh like mint, and he doesn't let you pull away. He doesn't let you breathe, until you're kissing him back out of desperation, out of lack of air.
He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth along your jaw and your throat.
"Kiss me properly," he demands against your skin, and when you turn your head away, he catches your jaw in his hand, forcing you back. "Give me your tongue. I want to feel you surrender with every part of you."
He takes your mouth again, and this time you don't resist. His tongue slides against yours, slow and filthy, mimicking what he wants to do to the rest of you, and he moans into the kiss like you've given him a gift.
Then he pulls back, positioning himself at your entrance, and you feel him. He’s not pushing in, not yet, just there, hot and heavy and leaking that strange, egg-laden fluid onto your folds.
"Look at you," he murmurs, dragging the head of his cock through your slickness, spreading you open. He grinds against your swollen clit. Still throbbing and oversensitive from his mouth. You jolt, sparks shooting through your nerves.
"So hard for me," he remarks lightly.
"I'm flattered. You should see yourself, all puffy and desperate, ready to take my eggs."
He roughly folds your legs over his shoulders, gripping tight as they tremble through the aftershocks. A wicked smile plays at his lips as he bends you, pressing until your knees meet your chest, exposed and utterly vulnerable.
He pushes in. just an inch, just enough to stretch you, to make you feel the ridge, the strange shape of him. And stops. He groans, his forehead dropping to yours, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Fuck," he gasps, and he sounds almost pained. "You're so tight. So warm… I can feel you pulsing around me, did you know that? You're trying to suck me in. Your body wants this."
He pulls back, then pushes in deeper. Slow, so fucking slow. Giving you time to feel every inch and every strange texture. You feel the way he seems to swell as he enters you.
The purple orbs are spilling into you now. You can feel them. Warm and strange, pushed inside you with every thrust, dissolving into that slick heat that coats your walls.
"… So full," you choke, and he shudders at the sound of his name.
"Perfect," he breathes, finally fully seated, his hips flush against yours. He stays there, throbbing inside you, and you feel more of those tiny eggs being released. Filling you, marking you from the inside.
"Feel good?" His hot swollen cock pulses inside of you.
"Y-yeah," you whine, already on cloud nine.
"Yeah?" He teases.
He starts to move slow, deliberate rolls of his hips that drag him against every sensitive spot inside you. That presses his pelvis against your swollen clit with every thrust. He's watching your face, drinking in your expressions, your fear, your unwilling pleasure.
"You're taking them so well," he croons, leaning down to suck at your neck again, his tongue tracing the bruises he's leaving. "My little eggs, nestled inside you. You should feel honored. I don't give these to just anyone." He starts to move faster, his cock finding your g-spot at lightning speed.
He starts to move faster, his cock finding that spot inside you with unerring precision. He trembles, excited by his own words, watching you folded in half beneath him. Your tummy bulges with every thrust.
"You're going to carry them until they’re ready to hatch, yeah?" he breathes.
He kisses you again, his tongue fucking your mouth in time with his cock. And you feel yourself spiraling, overwhelmed, filled with something that isn't human, that shouldn't exist, that feels incredible despite the terror.
"Come for me," he demands against your lips, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming harder, more desperate. "Come around my cock. I want to feel you milk me."
"I want to feel you break," He pants.
And you do.
His forehead presses against yours, watching as pleasure crashes over your face.
"Ahh fuck! Raf—!" The scream tears from your throat.
You shatter around him. Your legs shaking, your ears ringing with the sudden rush of blood and silence. He doesn't stop grinding, doesn't stop thrusting. Working his hips in slow, deliberate rolls that drag against your oversensitive walls, wringing every pulse, every shudder, until you're completely spent. Tears spill from your eyes from the overstimulation, but the pleasure burns so sharp it's almost pain.
"Just like that," he gasps, his mouth hot and wet now against your jaw. He pulls back just enough to slam into you again, and the sound of it. Wet, his eggs mixed with your cum squelching between you. Fills the room. "Listen to how much you want this."
He laughs, breathless and wild. His hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit to rub tight, merciless circles that make you clench around him involuntarily.
"There's that sound," he purrs, his voice wrecked with pleasure. "Your cunt is sucking me in. Gripping me." He slaps your clit. Not too hard, but enough to make you jerk and wail.
"You feel that? Trying to milk my seed out of me. You're hungry for it."
He changes his angle, grinding against you with every thrust, and you feel him swell inside you. That strange, alien ridge thickening, locking him in place. He groans, long and low, his head falling back, his throat working as he chases his release.
"Rafayel," you gasp, and he cuts you off with a rough, sloppy kiss.
"Don't say my name like that unless you're ready for what comes next," he snarls against your lips. He snaps his hips harder, the sound of skin on skin cracking through the air.
He drops his head to your neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, his teeth scraping your pulse point. His thrusts become erratic, losing rhythm, his hips stuttering as he chases his peak.
"Milking me," he breathes in your ear, and the word sends a shiver down your spine. "That's what you're doing. Your little human cunt is milking my cock. Squeezing my seed out, begging for it. Say it. Tell me you want them."
"I don't-" you start, but he laughs, dark and delighted, and grinds against that spot inside you that makes you see stars.
"Liar," he croons.
"You're soaked. You're taking me so deep. And you know what the best part is?" He pulls back to look at you, his eyes glowing, his face flushed with pleasure, and he smiles. Sharp and predatory.
"You could get pregnant. Did you think about that? My eggs, warm and alive inside you, looking for somewhere to nest. You could be carrying my spawn by morning."
Your blood runs cold. You freeze beneath him, and he mewls at the fear he feels ripple through you, his thrusts becoming harder, more desperate.
"Scared?" he breathes, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "Good. I love it when you're scared. It makes you clench so tight around me."
"S-stop- please-" you whimper, but he just laughs, breathless and broken with pleasure.
"Make me," he taunts, and then he really starts to fuck you. Deep, punishing strokes that drive the air from your lungs, his hips snapping against yours with a violence that should hurt but doesn't. He's lost in it, you realize. Lost in the heat and the wet and the way you're fluttering around him despite yourself.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
"Gonna breed you," he gasps, the words falling from his lips like a prayer and a curse. "Gonna fill you until you're round with them. You'd look so pretty, swollen with my eggs, carrying them for me. Is that what you want? Being my little incubator?"
"Rafayel!" you gasp, not sure what you're begging for anymore.
"What?" He catches your jaw, forcing you to look at him while he uses you.
He groans then, a sound like breaking waves, and you feel him swell impossibly larger, locking you together. His thrusts become shallow, grinding, his whole body trembling with the effort of holding back.
"Fuuuckk me," he snarls, his voice barely human.
He throws his head back, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He comes with a gasp of incoherent words. Desperate and ragged. His hips jerking against yours as he spills into you. And you follow, your own orgasm crashing over you in the same breath, your oozing walls clamping down around him.
You feel it, all of it. The flood of warmth, and then the eggs, so many eggs, spilling out in thick, heavy waves. He pushes them deep and then deeper, not giving them a chance to escape, groaning as your cunt grips him tight.
He collapses against you, his face buried in your neck, his chest heaving. For a moment, he's silent except for the ragged sound of his breathing.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his hand sliding down to press against your stomach. "If I stay inside you long enough, they'll take root. You'd be carrying my clutch by dawn."
He pulls out slowly, and you feel it. The rush of warmth, the eggs spilling out of you, glowing faintly purple in the dark. He watches them slide down your thighs with a look of possessive satisfaction, his fingers tracing through the mess, pushing some of it back inside you with a wicked smile.
"Now rest," he breathes, and his voice sounds like it's coming from very far away, echoing, fading. You try to focus on him, but he's dissolving at the edges, shadow melting into shadow, as if he were never truly there at all.
You want to argue. You want to scream. But your body is heavy, so heavy, filled with warmth and the strange, pulsing weight of what he's left inside you. Your eyes close. You don't open them again.
ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ་༘࿐
You wake to daylight. It's too bright.
You groan, rolling over, and immediately regret it. Your body aches, you're naked, and the sheets are drenched.
You sit up too fast, and your head spins. There's sand in your bed. It clings to your skin and to the sheets. Deep into the fabric as if someone spent hours here.
Someone did.
The thought comes unbidden, and with it, a name. It sits on your tongue like a secret, like a bruise.
"Rafayel."
You say it out loud, testing the sound, and your voice cracks. The name feels dangerous. It feels like a curse. You can't remember where you heard it, can't remember anything. Just short fragments. The color blue and the weight of hands and the sensation of drowning in warm water.
There's a mark on your inner thigh. You touch it, and it aches tender, fresh. When did that happen?
You stand, shaky, and catch your reflection in the mirror. Your lips are swollen. There's a bruise on your neck in the shape of a mouth. Your eyes seem different. Darker, somehow, the pupils still slightly blown despite the light.
Rafayel.
The name echoes in your head, and with it, a sensation. Fear, yes, but also heat and want. You press your thighs together and feel something shift inside you, something warm and strange that shouldn't be there.
You tell yourself it was just a dream. Just a strange, vivid dream brought on by stress, by heat, by loneliness.
But that night, you don't lock your window.
And somewhere in the dark, you know he's watching.