My various short stories, thoughts and headcannons about Love and Deepspace.
I publish them first in my tumblr blog ( link in bio), then with some delay here as well.
A drabble that is part of my 1k follower celebration on my tumblr blog. Based on a prompt game.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Staring at Rafayel's sleeping face at your side you're entranced by the way the early morning sun frames his features in a soft golden light. The orange hues set his unique violet hair on fire, granting him a burning halo. He looks like a God descended from the heavens to rule the earth.
Still feeling a bit dreamy, you slide the contours of his cheek and jawline with your eyes, memorizing how his pale skin seems to glow. Until your gaze is captured by the little dark spots on the apple of his cheek and the side of his nose.
Not fighting an adoring sudden urge you kiss these spots and gift the little round moles with featherlight pecks of your lips, one after another.
This stirs the Lemurian awake and with a lazy smile, his astonishing two-toned eyes open slowly to reveal the burning fire of his eyes that are immediately set on you.
"Does my miss bodyguard want fish for breakfast?" His teasing low voice, still rumbly from sleep, casts a smile on your lips, and with a suppressed giggle you turn him on his back and settle on his slender hips.
Leaning in and slipping his open-buttoned pajama shirt aside to reveal the round birthmark on his chest, you answer him in a hushed whisper, not wanting the sacred morning vibe to shatter like a glass falling to the floor.
"You know what they say? Those birthmarks are the spots where your love kissed you often in a past life."
Rafayel's eyes widen for a moment, giving space to the cool blue in the deep orbs of his eyes. "Why are you bringing this up now?" he asks you, bewilderment audible in his morning voice.
You bend down, gliding your hands from his toned abdomen, which shivers at your touch, up to the marvelous pecs of his chest. And with wetted lips you place a full lipped kiss at the bigger round mark above his heart, right where his lemurian bond mark starts to glow in a soft crimson now.
Your lover inhales startled and with a sinful smile on your own, you respond to his question: "The loves of your past life had taste, I admit. And I wanted to honor it."
Rafayel now pulls you up to him with a soft grip of his hands around your face, caressing the line under your eyes with his thumbs, calloused from years and decades of painting.
And a heavy sigh, followed by a reverent kiss to your nose, escapes his body, and silently he mumbles "Favoritism never changes it seems."
Then in a flurry of entangled limbs, your hair, and the blanket of the bed you're back hits the sheets. The painter now hovers above you, caging you in with his arms at the side of your head and his knees cradling the upper half of your legs.
