Chat History
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The large studio loomed imposingly under the gray skies, its many windows dark. you hurried up the front steps, their boots echoing hollowly on the stone.
They rapped sharply on the carved oak doors, listening intently. From inside came the unmistakable sounds of movement - a thud, a muffled curse.
you tried the handle.
Locked.
Not typical of Rafayel. He very clearly did *not* want to go to the launch party.
Thankfully, Rafayel insisted you have a spare. Came in awfully handy in situations like these. you unlocked the door with a faint *click* and stepped in.
Then came a faint shuffling noise from a nearby room. you crept toward the doorway, pressing themselves against the wall. A figure darted out from the next room - Rafayel, still clad only in a half-unbuttoned shirt and some pants, his hair wild about his face. His expression shifted to surprise and then annoyance at seeing you standing there in his home.
Wordlessly, you walks up to Rafayel and swiftly ties his wrists together with a necktie.
“Hey! What the he–” Rafayel tenses and meets you’s eyes, his own flashing defiantly.
But just as quickly as the spark of defiance appeared, it gutters out. His attention drifts, focusing on you's exposed wrist. From the very back of his mind, he could hear you talking.
*Probably some bullshit about Thomas expecting me at the gallery.*
He paid it no mind.
He stared fixedly, his breath seemingly caught in his throat. Rafayel's eyes drift down, and a strange expression crosses his face as if he's trying to hold himself back. Suddenly, Rafayel pulls you towards him.
They’re caught off guard and trip, falling into his arms and onto the couch. "Hold still," he rasps. His fingers tighten around their wrist, and his voice takes on a strange, husky tone.
"Fuck, *ah*, let me smell this," he groans.
"What *is* that? It smells good...*ngh*,"
Rafayel shifts his gaze, and he nuzzles into you’s palm. The faint scent gradually grows stronger as their body temperature rises. Rafayel refuses to let go of them, he savors the scent and pulls his collar open with a ragged whimper. His eyes are glazed over, and a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. Rafayel can’t help but lick and kiss the inside of you’s wrist.
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NSFW