[ it’d be a lie to say that rafayel hasn’t envisioned similar scenarios time and time again. the wispy vision of the silky fabric of a faux fish tail, and even the cold feel of a blade beneath his fingers. touching wriothesley’s skin and tasting the inside of his mouth was both a reminder of the past, as well as a promise for their collective futures. he isn’t sure if the heat itself is more dizzying or all its underlying implications.
while they’re facts rafayel would never allow himself to put into spoken words, they’re burdens he carries, and carries alone. the weight of these memories only made a little lighter by their connection of their lips and body. he finds a soft moan escape from his throat as he leans in, as he struggles to string a response back. the hand that he once laid kisses on, all he does is desperately grip it, let his fingers intimately lace with wriothesley’s for a moment before he moves back to trying to undo each of the man’s buttons. ] You know, fish can’t resist trying to grant the wishes of those closest to them. Especially, if…
[ it’s a request from their bride, the words get cut short as he tilts his head, giving into another heated kiss.
with wriothesley’s chest now exposed, he clumsily, presses his own body back up against them, skin against skin. the sensation of scarred skin leaves his head swimming with infinite thoughts (of desire, revenge, or any number of considerations)— but, in equal reverence, he pulls his lips away, letting them fall back on each scar, as if to display the depth of his devotion. his own fingers tremble for a moment, and he wonders if this mix of fear and want will ever change. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
while they’re facts rafayel would never allow himself to put into spoken words, they’re burdens he carries, and carries alone. the weight of these memories only made a little lighter by their connection of their lips and body. he finds a soft moan escape from his throat as he leans in, as he struggles to string a response back. the hand that he once laid kisses on, all he does is desperately grip it, let his fingers intimately lace with wriothesley’s for a moment before he moves back to trying to undo each of the man’s buttons. ] You know, fish can’t resist trying to grant the wishes of those closest to them. Especially, if…
[ it’s a request from their bride, the words get cut short as he tilts his head, giving into another heated kiss.
with wriothesley’s chest now exposed, he clumsily, presses his own body back up against them, skin against skin. the sensation of scarred skin leaves his head swimming with infinite thoughts (of desire, revenge, or any number of considerations)— but, in equal reverence, he pulls his lips away, letting them fall back on each scar, as if to display the depth of his devotion. his own fingers tremble for a moment, and he wonders if this mix of fear and want will ever change. ]