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.
Throughout the entire month of October, there will be spicy Stories, getting progressively hotter and wilder as the month progresses! The start makes a sensual and slow short with our beloved fishie.
Due to a lost bet, he dances for you!
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There he stands in the bedroom, your Lemurian, in all his ethereal beauty and divine glory. Rafayel gestures to sit on a wooden chair he pulled over from the vanity table he had set up after you finally moved in months ago.
"Since I lost this bet, be my guest and enjoy the show." His sunset eyes were filled with a mischievous glint that tells you, your fishie is up to no good. You do as you're told, regardless, and move over to sit on that little chair with the elegant, curving backrest as he stands behind it, holding it tight, like the gentleman he is.
"Since you won fair and square, I will dance. But we're making this my way. No touching until I allow you so, ... Miss Bodyguard." His breath is hot on your neck as he whispers the last words into your ear from behind, igniting the flames of something only the God of the Sea can.
You suppress the urge to squirm in the seat, heart racing in anticipation of what is to come, and your palms get sweaty as you lay them patiently in your lap. Rafayel strolls over to the little audio station at the wall on the side, like he has all the time in the world. You're on the edge of the elegant chair, literally and figuratively. You really didn't think that you would win the ridiculous bet, and more so, that the fickle artist would fulfill his debt to dance for you. No ordinary dance, oh no. You dared him to strip, and gods, are you excited for it.
And then, as he taps a few times on the device, a slow, sensual tune begins to play, filling the air with promises and unnamed desires, instantly transforming the room's ambiance to a sultry one. A few more pushes on a little white remote, and the light dims to a soft red, veiling everything in sins and passion.
Oh, what have you gotten yourself into, is the last coherent thought in your brain as Rafayel puts the little remote aside and strolls toward you again. Still two or three steps away, he closes his beautiful two-toned eyes, letting himself be engulfed by the enchanting tunes that waft through the air.
And then he starts to move. Bare feet tap to the slow rhythm, hips rolling from side to side, arms sliding up and down with grace. The red lighting sets his figure into a sinful crimson dream. Your mouth dries out, and you gulp, completely entranced from the very first second. You knew the Lemurian would be a natural at this, but as always, you underestimated how Rafayel excels at everything that comes with his siren-like persona.
As the artist's back arches in that sinful way you only ever see in TV shows, your eyes are glued to him. To the way the fabric of his simple white dress shirt clings to his toned chest muscles, how the black trousers hug his perfect butt, like a lover, his significant other. How the rays of the ceiling spots jig over his broad shoulders, adding an ethereal touch.
