You Wouldn’t Last An Hour In The Asylum Where They Raised Me

the russos have committed so many sins but i might just forgive them if they have bucky in this wig for doomsday

Ford might have misunderstood the assignment

I was there the day the strength of tumblr staff failed.

Jjk flight attendants

ΉΣЯ ΛПD ƬΉΣ ЯIVΣЯ

༊ on the most fertile moon of the year, rafayel finally claims you as his true bride and the mother of his future heirs

✯ warnings; sorta sequel to her and the sea but can be read as a standalone, rafayel x fem!reader, established relationship, MONSTERFUCKING, switch!rafayel, switch!reader, rafayel's lemurian form, sex in a bathtub, reader is coded to be feminine (wears a nightgown), mentions of mermaid genitalia, petnames (my little conch shell, my bride, baby, my love, miss bodyguard), size kink, handjobs, mentions of food, breathplay, breeding, mentions of previous oviposition, dirty talk, praise and degradation, language, let me know if i missed anything

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

Like how mashed kelp with prawn hearts were the perfect antidote to third degree burns, or a particularly nasty cold could be healed with sea turtle soup made from the bales found at the heart of Point Nemo’s trenches. 

Another secret? 

Male Lemurians—specifically those of the Sea God kinds like Rafayel—had a special mating ritual. 

You had no idea what you were expecting when your boyfriend called you over to his studio on a random Tuesday morning. As you had a day off from Hunter duties, you decided to drop by and visit, seeing no harm in meeting Rafayel after the innocent text he sent you.

Miss your face, Miss Bodyguard. Care to indulge me with your presence? I wanna show you something coolio lol 

You highly doubted the ‘lol’ at the end of his sentence meant anything innocent, but you had learned a long time ago to figuratively and literally go with the flow when it came to your mermaid boyfriend.

You kicked your bike to a stop by his gravel driveway, staring at the pearly domes of his studio slash home. His front door was left open and you let yourself in, trailing your eyes across the soaring, pristine white walls illuminated by the natural light coming in from Whitesand Bay. 

“Raffie?” Your voice echoes along the empty hallways.

His huge French doors were left open, the salty sea breeze tugging right at your clothes and hair, bringing a chill into the otherwise sun-warmed room. 

“In here.” 

His voice floated from the bedroom and your suspicions flared, wondering what he was up to. 

Ever since that night in the middle of the ocean when he claimed you in his Lemurian form, Rafayel was growing bolder with initiating you into the practices of his endangered people; from the unique seafood feasts he prepared for you down to the different books in a foreign language he loaned you, it seemed as if your boyfriend was eager to show you the full extent of his world and culture. 

With an open heart and an even more curious mind, you padded to his bedroom where you found the entire space open and bright, the brilliant sunlight nearly burning your retinas. You had to squint and shade yourself from the sudden glare, spotting Rafayel waving at you from his huge bathtub in the middle of the room. 

“My little conch shell. There you are.” 

You padded over to him, smiling mischievously at the sight of his slick, and bare chest. The cool, crisp bath water lapped at throat, droplets of water clinging onto the tips of his lilac bangs.

“Did you call me over just to watch you splash around?” you tease, sitting on the bench beside the tub, dipping your fingers into the cool water.

Rafayel snorted and grasped your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, the skin of his digits slightly pruned from his time spent inside the water. 

“Hardly. I wanted to ask you something… eh, more like, show you something.”

You heard a tremble of uncertainty in his tone which he tried to mask with his usual boyish bravado. Months of dating the elusive Lemurian artist gave you a deeper understanding of his personality, and you could tell behind the breezy invitation to his home, there was a deeper meaning and reason behind his need to have you here.

As if answering your silent, roaring questions, Rafayel turned his indigo gaze to the bright sky opening before the bedroom’s sunroof, the panels pushed to the sides to let in the afternoon heat. 

“Do you know what day it is today?” Rafayel hummed, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You had to scoot closer to avoid your arm from submerging in the tub, shaking your head with a teasing smile etched on your lips.

“Taco Tuesday?” you joked and he rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding!” you laughed and added breezily, “I’m pretty sure I didn’t forget your birthday or any anniversaries. So, why is today so special?” 

Your boyfriend pointed at the bright sky, and you had to squint to follow the direction of his finger. 

“Do you see the moon there? Looks like a thin piece of cheese?” 

Following his guidance, you noticed the pale circle in the sky; almost see-through like a wisp, close enough to touch the burning sun in the horizon. 

“Uh-huh.”

Rafayel snorted. “Well… today is a very special day for Lemurians because it’s the one time in the entire year when the moon and the sun will collide.” He gauged your reaction, the confusion on your face making him sigh deeply.

“Ugh, humans. Okay, think of it this way—do you know what controls the tides of the sea?” 

A fairly easy question. “The moon,” you retorted, furrowing your brow.

Rafayel nodded sagely, like a professor trying to prove a point. “Okay. And do you know what helps things like plants grow?” 

“The… sun?” You weren’t exactly sure where your lover was going with this, but you played along for his sake.

“Good,” he gets out of the tub and sits on the edge, and you were relieved to find him dressed in a pair of navy blue swimming shorts. Unable to tear your eyes off the water dripping down his muscular thighs, you coughed, feeling your face flush warmly as you mapped the shadows lengthening around the room; a sign of evening arriving.

“What does any of this have to do with the fact that you moved the tub from the living room to your bedroom?” 

Rafayel gently grasped your chin, lifting your face up to meet his sparkling, bright eyes.

“Remember that night when we made love on the cove in Whitesand Bay… when I asked if you were comfortable with me putting my babies in you?” 

You nodded, recalling the night like it was just yesterday. Though a week had passed since your last encounter together with him, you could still smell the sea breeze on your skin, feel the stretch of his mermaid cock almost tearing you apart inside out.

“Well, tonight is what we Lemurians dub the Fertile Moon—the one time of the year where the sun and moon orbit the closest to one another, and their energies are in sync to increase the life force of the ocean and its inhabitants. Do you get what I’m putting down, Miss Bodyguard?”

Your head was spinning, and you’re not sure if you can make out the innuendo behind his fragmented explanations. 

“No… I don’t think so. Can’t you just tell me point blank what it is you want from me?” 

You tried to scowl and sound demanding, but it came off as pouty and petulant instead. 

He grinned, barely able to hide his chuckle when he turned those mirthful, indigo eyes towards you. “What I am saying, my little muse is that tonight is the one night where every Lemurian is encouraged to breed so that… conception and a pregnancy is a guaranteed success.”

The silence after his words rang like the aftermath of a blurted crass remark. 

You blanched, eyes widening when he finally helped you put two and two together.

“Whoa, hold up—tonight is the night?”

Rafayel’s eyes twinkled, and he flickered them momentarily to your relatively flat belly. 

“Remember those eggs I put inside of you? Well, tonight’s their night to shine. I mean, not literally. You’re not going to glow inside out like a pregnant sea monkey. But, if we made love tonight, it’s a 95% success rate of my babies taking...”

He trailed off, letting you absorb this fact. You take in a deep breath, wondering if this day could get any weirder. Though it had been your idea for Rafayel to show you how mermaids bred in the first place, you couldn't help the feeling that you were biting off more than you could chew. 

Absent-mindedly, you touched your stomach, almost as if you were trying to feel the smooth, oval deposits your boyfriend had gifted to you 7 nights ago. But, you could barely detect their outline or their presence, wondering how the biological aspect of everything would work. 

“Hey,” Rafayel touched your cheek, trying to get you to look at him. “Are you alright? Tell me what’s on that pretty mind, lovely.”

“It’s just,” you struggled to speak, and had to take a few, deep breaths to keep calm. “Is this really happening? You really want me to get pregnant with your babies?” 

In response, his violet eyes softened, and Rafayel steps down from the tub, moving towards you and getting to one knee. He grasped your hands, bringing them in his damp ones and squeezed them reassuringly. “You can always say ‘no’, my little muse. I’m not forcing you to carry my eggs if you don’t want to, though I do wish with every fiber of my being that you would. Nothing would make me happier than to know the only woman I’ve ever loved will be the one to carry my heirs and the future of Lemuria inside of her.”

When he said it that way…

The idea of saving an entire civilization appealed to your naturally altruistic nature, and you couldn’t deny the allure of being the one person whom Rafayel trusted to go on this journey with. Besides, your lover would never let anything happen to you—he would be there with you every step of the way to take care of you and the babies, just like he promised before. And you know he will keep his promises till the end of time. 

You nodded. “Alright. The Fertile Moon. Half-Lemurian babies. Let’s do it.” 

Rafayel gently tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, his voice low and gentle. 

“Are you sure? I mean, the choice to decline or accept is yours. I will be gentle, but tonight is one of the nights where I’m afraid nature vs. politeness will not be in play, my little muse.” There was a flash of warning in his eyes. You swallowed hard. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

Rafayel’s grip on your hands tighten, and he exhaled a sigh. “It means I might get… rougher… and if you can bear it, I will make it the most pleasurable night of your life, sweetheart.”

You paused, considering his words. “Will you hurt me?” 

He shook his head instantly. “Never.”

“Will you bite me? Maim me?” 

Rafayel shot you a look of exasperation, shaking his head. “No and no. Absolutely nothing will pierce you… well, not too much.”

The addendum stopped you short, and you gave him a cursory look. Rafayel ups the innocent act, gazing at you with his big, indigo eyes which tug on your heartstrings. 

Eventually, you’re swayed by the look of pure hope in those wondrous orbs and you sigh. 

“Okay. Fine. I’ll do it.”

Sealing the deal and taking him off guard, you lean forward, kissing him fully on his shapely lips. “Let’s make some half-mermaid babies tonight.” 

The chill of the night seeped into your bare skin, the skimpy nightgown you wore barely covering your shins and arms. You had to drive back home and change, returning to Rafayel’s home with your heart in your mouth. 

A part of you considered the repercussions of such a deal—the idea of carrying to term a human baby was already daunting, but now you had to factor in the baby being half-Lemurian into the mix.

The doors swung open, as if sensing you and admitting you within the heart of his space. Once drenched in sunshine and heat, Rafayel’s home was now saturated in shades of night, the windows kept open to let in the illumination of the moon’s rays seeping into the white walls and hardstone floors. You followed a trail of roses he left for you, right to the lip of his bedroom door. Heart thudding a mile a minute, you pressed your palms flat on the intricate wood and pushed it open.

Flickering candlelight danced across the walls, shadows growing with your approach towards the bathtub situated in the middle of the room like a crown jewel. Rafayel is nowhere to be seen, but you felt his presence in this space, watching over you—waiting. 

As per his instructions, you sat at the edge of the large tub, big enough to accommodate one human and one undecidedly non-human person. The warmth of the candles gave you enough courage to lift your head and take a steadying breath.

But, that breath stuttered out into a whispery gasp at the feeling of strong arms wrapping around you. Rafayel’s lips found refuge in the crook of your neck, kissing up and down the delicate column of your throat. His palms spanned around your waist, dragging up and down your sides, committing your outline to his memory. 

“My bride,” he muttered huskily. “You’re here.” 

“Mhm hmm,” your voice trembled, and he could feel the fear rocking you apart. “I’m here… Are you ready?”

Rafayel doesn’t comment on the terror he hears in your tone, or how you’re shaking as if an earthquake is tearing you into two. Gently, he pressed a kiss to your temple, running his hands up and down your stomach in gentle, soothing swoops.

“Relax. It’ll be fine. I’m here and I won’t ever let you go, my bride.”

He turned you around, and you were confronted by the sight of his bare chest peeking from past a pale, purple robe, gossamer thin and clinging onto his muscular torso and arms. A smirk plays on his lips when he realized you were gawking at him, your attention a boost to his ego.

“Like what you see, Miss Bodyguard?” 

Before you could reply, he slipped his fingers in between yours, tugging you closer to the bathtub. Rafayel unties his robe, letting it fall to the ground and you take it as your cue to remove your nightgown, as well. 

Though getting naked in front of Rafayel was something you had done many, many times before, this is the first time you felt a spike of fear run up your spine. Your breathing came out in stuttering exhales, and you managed to slip the diaphanous material off your body, revealing your bare skin to his wandering eyes. The heat of his gaze was like a hot brand, and you could feel it tangibly caressing the expanse of your skin, imprinting your curves onto his artistic eye. 

“You look beautiful, my bride.” 

Rafayel gently guided you into the tub, and you shivered when your toes sank in the water, finding it pleasantly warmed. He got in after you, pulling you close to his chest, hooking his chin over your shoulder. The both of you stayed like this for a little while, holding each other close. The briny scent of the ocean floating in from the wide open sunroof above gave this moment a fairylandish feel, making you think you were in the middle of some fantastical dream.

You felt his lips right on your jugular, kissing over your pulse point and shivered.

“Don’t be afraid,” his voice had taken on a deeper quality, rumbling against your chest. “I won’t hurt you. It will feel good, my bride.” 

Your eyes wandered to the sky, watching the moon burn at her brightest. Rafayel, too, took a moment to absorb the spectacular celestial sight shining from his window, his arms tightening around you.

Something about the romantic and sensual atmosphere finally got to you, and you turned around, straddling yourself on his lap. Your naked cunt bumped against his thigh, and you felt him shiver from the close proximity. 

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you hummed, leaning forward, close enough for your lips to touch, but not fully. “Raffie… I’m not afraid. As long as you’re here, I’m not scared.”

That was his cue to give into his primal, oceanic urges. Hungrily, he claimed your lips, those large hands moving to your waist to drag you flush against his body. 

His quicksilver tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it slowly; his hands roaming across your body, caressing you with a touch full of desire and need.

“Rafayel…” 

He broke the kiss, leaving a string of spit connecting your lower lip to his, hanging tenuously like a heart about to break. 

Your lover darted his tongue out, lapping at your bottom lip, his teeth following suit to dig into the plush flesh. He repositioned you upon his lap, tangling his fingers in your hair to tilt your face to the side so he could slot his mouth closer to yours.

This kiss under the moonlight, sensual and sweet, stole a part of your soul and refused to give it back. 

Perching you on his strong, muscular thigh, Rafayel dipped his head lower, dragging lazy kisses down your jaw, your collarbone, his warm mouth wrapping around your nipples. His tongue teased them, getting them hard. You squirmed in his lap, getting wetter at his every touch. 

“Feels good, my bride?” He hummed, mouth still latched around your hard flesh and you whimpered, nodding.

Rafayel grinned at your responsiveness, hearing your whispery plea of his name passing your lips. 

His mouth was better than good—it was downright sinful and delicious. It felt like every sensation was amplified tonight, your body keyed up to receive his ministrations. 

Please, you whispered into the dim night illuminated only by candles that bounced off the whiteness of his grin. Touch me more.

“As you wish, my bride.” 

Rafayel paid special attention to your nipples, tweaking them, sucking on them, brushing his thumbs over the hard nubs. Your hips began to drag across the muscular plane of his thigh, rutting and twitching as you struggled to relieve the ache in between your legs.

“More,” you’re desperate to get closer, to feel him deeper in your body; needing to satiate the lust his touches ignited deep inside of you. 

Rafayel hummed, a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth as he tasted your desperation, your need to get off. 

“Mhm, I know,” he mumbled in between sloppy kisses raining down your neck, taking his time to taste your skin. “I know, baby. But, we’re going to take it slow tonight, yeah?” 

Rafayel would be the death of you. His duality would never cease to render you speechless; bratty, pouty boyfriend in one breath and then suddenly, a teasing force of nature determined to get under your skin and leave you begging.

Your whine graced his heated ears, and he chuckled.

Rafayel… no… stop teasing me…

Already begging? Your lover raised his lips to the juncture of your neck, biting down softly to bring the blood up, leaving his mark there. That was quick—thought you’d hold up longer than that. 

Your indignant sounds were masked by his mouth moving back to yours, kissing your protests away.

What was it you wanted to say, my little conch shell? He teased, trailing his fingers down your thighs, igniting goosebumps on your arms. I’m a tease? I’m not giving you what you want? 

He adjusted himself in the tub, the water starting to run cool, sloshing over the edges to dampen the surrounding floor. He lifted you higher into his lap, running his warmed, slightly chapped lips down to your sternum, mapping his way down to the part of you which needed him the most.

You know, I’ve never done this with anyone… Rafayel whispered against your flushed skin, nudging you up further until your pelvis bumped his jaw. You’re always the first one I try new things with… his fingertips glide across your thighs, gently nudging them apart.

You make me feel human—make me feel alive. His words are lost in your skin as he muffled them with his kisses, leaving a trail of heat in between your thighs, leading right to your pulsing core. Rafayel can’t help but chuckle at the sight of your little, twitchy clit, waiting for his tongue or mouth to give her some attention. 

His touches are languid, caressing your knees, your shins and thighs. He moved his fingers to where you needed him the most, focusing his touch on your throbbing clit, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the slick bundle of nerves which seemed to pulse his name with every touch.

“Rafayel,” your moans saturated the air, a blessing to his ears.

“Mhm… yes, my little conch shell? Feels good, doesn’t it?” His indigo eyes looked at you with pure hunger like a deadly current threatening to pull you under. 

Yes, your breathy whimpers boosted his ego, drawing a smirk on his handsome face. The heat that he sets off in your body when he placed his mouth right on your inner thigh was nothing compared to the smoldering flame about to engulf you when he sucked a hickey onto your soft flesh. 

“I can smell you—you’re practically drenched,” Rafayel slurred in between nipping kisses to your thighs, determined to leave his mark wherever he went. I just want to… fuck… he trailed off.

“What?” 

Your breathless question made him laugh.

In answer to your winded curiosity, he brought his mouth closer, right to the apex of your thighs and exhaled, warm breath fanning across your folds.

“I just want to eat you whole.” 

Warmth engulfed your cunt the second he murmured those seductive words, and your head was thrown back, your moan rebounding across the room. 

You were so worked up, it was insane how you haven’t exploded yet. The taste of you saturated his tongue, dripping right onto his chin and Rafayel lapped you up like you were the water of life, drinking you down in desperate gulps. 

Those pretty indigo eyes hazed over, his long lashes obscuring his gaze into half-mast as he worked your pussy over with his mouth. Using a slender finger, Rafayel teased past the tight muscles of your entrance, sinking down to his knuckle, curling it forward in a come hither motion as your hips stuttered and bucked.

Rafayel… oh, fuck…

He grinned at the sound of your trembling moans, and stretched your perfect cunt around a second finger, applying pressure to your golden spots, determined to make you see stars. 

Without warning, you felt the girth of his thigh transforming underneath you, growing slicker, harder. Scale-like. The texture of his wrists you were grasping tightly became harder, the skin toughening and lengthening. 

Water sloshed noisily down the rim of the tub, and from the corner of your eye, you caught the flick of an iridescent tail in mid-air.

Rafayel continued to eat you out, oblivious to your wide eyes and hitched breathing, needing to feel you shatter around his fingers. Latching his lips right to your nub, he traced his name right into your sensitive clit, enjoying how your thighs were tensing and trembling, struggling to hold yourself upright. 

One large palm guided you to ride his tongue, grasping your hip and helping you glide yourself back and forth over the flat of his pink muscle. 

Your fingers curled over the edge of the wide tub, one hand tangling in his hair to hold him closer. 

Fuck, so good, your moans goad him on. So good, Rafayel. More, please… more…

He gave it to you, lapping at your swollen folds, feeling your juices stain his mouth, drip down his jaw. 

The needy twitch of your hips and the tremble in your moans spurred him on to double his speed and precision, racing to get you right to the edge. From the depths of the deep tub, you felt something hard stirring against your thigh, the thick, scaly ridge a familiar rasp as it grazed against your soft skin. 

“I’m close,” your quivering moan made his blood thump harder in his veins. “So close…” 

Your orgasm washed over you like a hot tide, nearly making you buckle and lose your footing. Luckily, Rafayel hurried to clasp his larger, merman hands around your waist, holding you upright and slowly easing you down onto his lap. Your quivering moans go straight to his cock, and he was already hard and ready when you sank into his embrace, the tip of his monster girth poking your lower belly.

Without a second thought, you reached for his length, stroking his Lemurian cock with a loose grip, feeling his entire body constrict under your touch. 

Rafayel expelled a soft groan, the back of his head thumping against the smooth marble of the bathtub’s edge. Scaly and with bumps that felt heavenly between your gummy walls, his cock was a wonder of nature that always left you speechless. Hooded indigo eyes appraised you, and his tongue briefly darted out to touch the corner of his mouth.

“You’re becoming more bold and audacious day by day.” 

Drunk from your orgasm, you managed to give him a grin. “What did you say again—the most pleasurable evening I’ve ever had?” 

Arching a brow, Rafayel snorted. “So, jacking me off is your idea of a pleasurable evening?” 

Your lips touched his ear, warm breath fanning across his skin. “What if I said yes?” 

Putty in your hands and susceptible to your every will, Rafayel had no choice but to let you have your way with him. His hips ticked, pushing his cock further up your weak grip, aching to earn more friction.

“I would say you got me there,” his voice lowered into a husky whisper. “You’re a handful, you know that?” 

“But, I’m all yours to handle.” 

His smooth and low chuckle sparked a shiver up your spine, that hazy grin and heavy lidded eyes making your stomach flip.

“Mhm, that you are, sweetheart.” 

The water rippled from the motions of his hips undulating to match your strokes, a pinch appearing on his brow. Despite having a fear of the water, you felt safe in Rafayel’s arms, letting him hold you close as you continue to pleasure him. 

“Do you want to—”

“I think we should—”

He paused, and you giggled at both your eagerness; the simultaneous need. Rafayel’s eyes twinkled with mischief, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. 

Without another word, your lover guided you onto his lap, gently pushing your hand away from his cock and gingerly lifting your hips. 

It started out slow first, with the head of his Lemurian cock slowly breaching you, pushing past the trembling muscle of your spasming cunt. Rafayel was conscious of not slamming into you, knowing you needed time to get used to the sensation of his longer length stretching you out. 

The sensation of his bulbous head sinking through your walls, and the feel of every ridge and bump hitting your swollen spots was enough to draw full body shivers from you. 

“Fuck,” Rafayel shivered, his eyes darkening. 

Your breath tumbled out in a shaky exhale.

Palms flat on his chest, you struggled to sink down on him, the water adding more lubrication to help ease you over his impossibly huge cock. The stretch made sweat bead across your brow and you gasped, rocking your hips forward, trying to take all of him in one go. 

You okay? His mouth on your pulse point soothed you somewhat. 

Nodding, you felt the bite of pain, your muscles protesting.

Rafayel took this chance to play with your nipples, tweaking and tugging on them; when that wasn’t enough, he decided to use his tongue and teeth to get them wet and hard, leaving your body aching for more. His thumb trailed to your clit, rubbing on it as he continued to suckle on your tits, giving them both his undivided attention. 

Your pussy twitched around him and he murmured, let go for me, sweetheart.

The effort it took for you to calm yourself down enough to take him is tremendous, and Rafayel felt a burst of love and adoration for how much you were trying to please him. The hunger you showed to be perfectly good for him incited his need to spoil you even more, and he quickens the circles on your clit, trying to loosen you up so he could bottom out.

Once you were slick enough, Rafayel didn't waste anymore time, guiding you down on the last few inches, kissing you full on the mouth to quell your trembling moans.

“Fuck.” Your cries were intoxicating, driving him mad with desire when he finally sank down to the hilt, a bit of drool dripping from your parted lips. 

Rafayel didn’t hesitate to lap at it, dragging his tongue from your jaw to your chin, tasting the salt of your skin. The moon bathed your skin with pale, silky light, and the artist swore if he wasn’t trying to put his babies in you, he would’ve taken this moment to paint you from scratch. 

A tick of your hips. Your walls trembled around him. 

Guttural groans softened by his lips pressed to your neck reverberated against your skin.

Holy shit, his curses sink past your flesh. Shit, shit—you feel like heaven. 

Please, move. Your begging elicited a hoarse chuckle from the Lemurian.

As you wish, my bride.

Slow, tantric strokes. Rafayel’s grip on your hips was firm and solid. He kept a steady pace, fucking up into you, the tips of his tail flicking past the tub's rim, catching your eye with its iridescent brilliance. 

Every stroke of his ridged cock rubbing against your gummy walls felt like a pulsing nirvana. Throbbing, hot, needy. You were completely Rafayel’s—you belonged fully to the Sea God of your dreams.

Mhm, yeah, he continued to fuck into that same spot, coaxing you with You like that? fuck you like that. Mhm yeah. Uh-huh—good girl. 

The tips of his lilac bangs tickled your neck as he sucked more love bites into your neck, hellbent on marking you up as his own. 

Effortlessly, he turned you in his embrace, encouraging you to press your hands on the bathtub’s edge. This newfound position placed more pressure on your G spot, the tip of his cock nudging that same spot over and over again.

Behind you, Rafayel made it a sport to leave as many hickeys as he could on your nape, your shoulders. The rough scales of his fingertips gripped the plush flesh of your ass, squeezing heartily.

You look so good taking me like this. His rough praise drew goosebumps across your entire body. 

You tipped your head back, dizzy with lust, mouth parting wide open. 

In the dimness of the candlelight, Rafayel’s lilac eyes glimmered like amethysts, his hair shining with an ethereal gleam. 

“My love, do you trust me?” His heated question pressed into the back of your neck pricked your awareness. The stretch and the bite of pain which mingled with pleasure fucked with your mind, drawing you right to the edge where nothing in the world existed beyond you being impaled on his cock.

“Mhm,” your replying moan drew a trembling laugh from him. 

I have something which will make it all feel better… but only if you trust me. 

Rafayel tangled your hair in his fingers, and in this instance, you would’ve done anything for him. 

You nodded.

The pleasure he bestowed on your wrecked body, the gentle way he was asking if he could make you feel even more good, did not prepare you for what he did next. 

One second, your head was tilted back against his chest, and the next, you were plunged face first into the tub water. Your eyes opened wide, your entire body tensing with fear. Eyes burning, you opened your mouth to scream when he yanked you back to the surface, sputtering and crying out his name. 

“Shit.” Rafayel’s movements doubled in speed, fucking up into you like he didn’t respect you one bit. You were panting, gripping the edge of the tub with white knuckles.

“Fuck,” was the only word you could manage to blurt out, the tension in your lower belly tightening.

If it was possible, the sensation of his cock splitting you apart felt even more delirious. Dizzyingly so. 

Your eyes crossed, mouth hanging open, the slick pistoning of his cock in and out of your willing pussy making every nerve ending in your body burst into unending flames.

Raffie… fuck… do it again.

You were pleading for him to hurt you, the taboo nature of such devious desires making your blood pump harder. 

There was no need to tell him twice.

Rafayel grasped the base of your head, and your world disappeared into the bottom of the tub, your body bucking wildly, fighting for oxygen as his cock continued to bulldoze into you. 

He brought you up, and you gasped, coughing loudly. 

Fuck, your voice was gravelly from swallowing some water. Fuck, that was so hot. 

You weren’t the only one who thought so. 

Shit, your lover groaned. I’m close, baby. 

Lavishing you with praise for being so good, Rafayel held you close to his chest, your back bowing to take all of him in. 

You’re amazing, love. My bride, my Queen. You’re going to be the best mother. The best mate. I love you. I love you so much. 

The moonlight scattered across the rippling water, reminding you of that time when he had you right on the seabed and you watched the light breaking above the surface. 

Come for me, my love. His grunts touched the sensitive shell of your ear. Come for me and make me feel good—are you going to be good for me?

Yes, yes. You chant. Yes, I will, Raffie. 

Yes, my bride. Fuck—doing so good. Yeah, yeah. Come, come. Fucking make a mess on me. 

You could never deny Rafayel what he wanted. At his command, you spilled all over him, your muscles tightening, threatening to spit him out of your trembling heat. 

So good, so good for me. Coaxing you through your orgasm, he talked you through it, there for every tremble, every quiver and moan. 

Your pleasure washed over him in waves, and he couldn’t hold back the tide, not when going over and spilling inside of you, claiming you as his, is what he has always wanted since the dawn of time. 

Strings of heat splattered inside of you, filling you to the brim till you thought you could taste him in the back of your throat. 

Rafayel continued to pump his hips, desperately trying to make sure not a single drop goes to waste.

When the comedown hits, it slammed into you hard. The exhaustion mingled with the fatigue of the adrenaline ebbing out of your veins. 

You slumped back into his arms, and Rafayel was careful to slowly ease you off his half-hard cock, holding you close in his embrace. The possessiveness that dripped from his fingertips as they stroked through your hair, the heat of his body, warmed you up in the already cool water. 

The chill permeated through you, though you barely felt it, not when Rafayel was by your side.

A soft kiss was placed on your jaw.

“Was it good?” 

You nodded, hazy and dopey from the rush of hormones. “Beyond perfection.”

Rafayel chuckled at the dopey happiness alighting in your eyes, tightening his grip around your waist, nuzzling his face into your damp neck. Now that his primal instincts were cooling off, he could give your wrecked body the attention it deserved. 

The warmth of his skin seeped into yours. Hard scales turned back to soft flesh, his huge tail transforming into a pair of legs tightening around your midsection, determined to hold you fast to his chest. Languishing in the cool water, you glanced up at the moon, noting a pair of wispy clouds drifting past her luminous facade, reminding you of a couple dancing past a huge celestial spotlight.

Rafayel rubbed your belly with one hand, and you didn’t have to ask him what was on his mind to know his raging thoughts.

Placing your hand upon his, you smile at him over your shoulder. The fall of his lilac hair, the softness in his eyes. It made your heart melt.

“Are you nervous?” 

Your question, seemingly innocent, held a multitude of layers which he could unravel easily enough after having known you for close to a millenia. 

“Of the babies? No,” he answered truthfully. “But, of how will things change between us? Yeah, I’m terrified.”

You readjusted yourself on his lap, facing him, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. “Are you afraid I’m gonna leave you once I find out your babies are bulging inside of me?” you tease.

Rafayel’s pout was endearing, and you laughed, pinching his cheek. “Raffie… you’re so silly.”

He huffed, his palms drifting to clasp around your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. “Am I so silly or just worried you might still think I’m a freak?”

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Ouch. You really underestimate me, my love. You’d think I’d let you do this if I didn’t want it?” 

Knowing full well how independent and firm you could be, his worries abated slightly, a smirk worming onto his shapely and perfect lips. 

“Of course not, Miss Bodyguard. You would never do anything if you didn’t love it.”

Your eyes softened. “Well, there’s your answer.” Under the luminous moonlight, your embrace tightened around him, bridging the distance between 800 years and this moment where you and Rafayel would finally be a family.

“I only do it because I love you.”

— rbs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or translate my work across other platforms.

Selkie Rafayel AU ! 🦭🦭🦭

Instead of being kidnapped and whisked away from the ocean like the folklore, he just bothers and willingly gives up his selkie skin to the poor horrified and confused local who he's horribly smitten with

Fucking two bad bitches at the same damn time 🎶

THREE'S A HOME — caleb. zayne.

after disaster strikes, your two boyfriends make an unplanned visit to your apartment and together, the three of you redefine what it means to be a home

୨୧───pairings caleb x zayne x you

୨୧───warnings medic combat zayne, fighter pilot caleb, polyamory, threesome (f/m/m), jealousy, blood and injury, unresolved sexual tension, double penetration, nipple play, oral sex, multiple orgasms, p in v sex, anal sex, explicit sexual content, awkward romance, mdni, 18+

୨୧───dawn says applesnow girlies i did this to see something.....

Goddammit. There’s an insane lunatic banging on your apartment door at 4.37AM.

The loud echoes reverberate across the walls, almost shaking your windows, and you jolt straight from bed, shoving your feet into a pair of pink cat slippers as you rush towards the front door.

Caution tells you to make sure the other person at the end wasn’t some psycho-murderous killer, and you peep through the keyhole only to find blank darkness greeting you. 

Huh? Your sluggish, sleep-deprived mind doesn’t register that someone could be covering the peephole, and driven by a lack of self-preservation (read: destructive curiosity), you pry open the door.

Immediately, the scent of blood hits you, and you’re looking right into a pair of frantic emerald-green eyes. 

“We don’t have time to explain—”

Your boyfriend Zayne pushes past you, and in his arms, he’s holding up your other boyfriend who looks like a train has wrecked him—his jacket is torn, duffel bag hanging limply off his shoulder, and… holy shit. Your eyes widen. 

“Caleb! Your shoulder—”

It’s bleeding.

Caleb shoots you a woozy grin as he stumbles past your threshold. “Heyyyy sweet cheeks. Miss us?” 

You stand there for a second, unsure what to do when Zayne hisses, “Close the door!” 

Hastening, you do as he says and slam the door shut. Your hands are shaking, breaths coming out in harsh pants, but this isn’t the time to freak out. From the stormy look on Zayne’s face to Caleb barely holding onto his consciousness, you can guess as much that this little pitstop wasn’t sanctioned by their superiors.

There’s so much you want to ask them—why are they here? Why did they come back? 

Where did they disappear for days without leaving you so much as a goddamn note? 

And, why, in the name of all that is catastrophic, is Caleb wounded? 

Zayne peeks at you over his shoulder, the sleeves of his combat medic jacket rolled up. The camo clashes with his pale pallor, giving him a deathly grimness. “Love, we need you to focus. Can you do that? Can you get a first aid kit?” 

As a doctor, he’s trained to stay calm in these situations, whereas you’re halfway through a hyperventilation party for one. But, he snaps you back to earth, clicking his tongue.

“Focus. First aid kit. Where is it?” 

Your stiff lips move. “Zaynie… I don’t think it’ll help him. How about a hospital—?”

“We can’t,” he snaps, and you’re taken aback. You’ve seen Zayne conduct a risky surgery on a patient with Protocore syndrome right before your eyes once, and even then, he didn’t break a sweat. This Zayne, however, is much shakier—his fingers trembling and mouth parted to drag in shallow breaths.

Something about his insistence makes you think that whatever happened must be too risky to involve officials, and you snap to attention, dashing to your kitchen cabinet and retrieving your stashed first aid kit.

He takes it from you and expertly treats Caleb’s wounded shoulder, starting to sterilize himself. You hover, doing what you can to help him with the immense task—retrieving glasses of water, wiping his sweat with a kitchen towel, holding your tongue to not berate him for his sheer stupidity—

“Almost done,” he murmurs, suturing up Caleb’s wounds. The smell of blood hangs heavy in the air, seeping into the couch and staining the upholstery a murky brown. 

You flicker your gaze towards Caleb, whose eyelids are twitching. He’s pale with pain, barely moving or grunting even as a needle keeps stabbing him. You gently take his face in your hands, cradling it onto your lap as Zayne flashes you an inscrutable look. There’s no time to dig deeper into his inexplorable mood, so you turn your attention to Caleb. 

“Ssh,” you murmur when he whimpers, thick brows furrowed when Zayne starts to close him up. You run your fingers through his sweaty hair, trying to soothe him and take his mind off the huge gash slowly being patched up.

When Zayne is done, you don’t move, needing to assess Caleb. Your hands travel over his broad chest, gently ghosting over the sutured wound, your Resonance helping to alleviate his pain. 

You glance down at him, and he’s giving you an exhausted smile. 

“Where’d ya learn to do that?” 

You hum. “Tara’s been teaching me how to control my Evol and focus it on a main anchor,” you continue, “Since the goal is to speed up your healing, I’m resonating with your body’s blood cells to duplicate the clotting faster.”

Caleb winces. “Feels like a bunch of little fingers in me,” he complains.

From the corner of the room, you hear Zayne heave in a disgruntled sigh.

“What you’re doing is dangerous,” your older lover berates, stepping in to plead for you to cut it out. “If anyone from the medical field found out—”

“They won’t,” you reassure. “No one knows about the extent of my Evol’s abilities besides you two and Tara. Swear it.”

Zayne opens his mouth as if to argue, and considers against it, shutting his trap and fixing you with an icy stare.

“You opened the door for us without even asking who we were. While no instance has been given to warrant such caution, you must be more alert, darling. What if it could be someone else?” 

You huff and glare at him. “If you’re so hellbent on following protocol and procedure, why bother showing up to my apartment in the first place?” 

Caleb snickers. “Oh, she got you there, Doc.”

The good doctor sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I had no choice. This buffoon—” he glares at the younger, dark-haired man, “—left his post after an ambush to search for me in the medical tent. He said, and I quote, ‘I had to check if you’re alright or else our girl is gonna be mad at me’.” Zayne sighs and shakes his head. “The whole infantry was in a panic. We stowed away and managed to drive off with a spare G-Hummer.” 

You gape, turning your wide eyes to Caleb. “You abandoned your post?” 

Caleb, realizing the heat is now on him, tries to defend himself. “You guys have it all wrong! I didn’t abandon it… took a little detour, s’all,” he grouses, and you have a feeling he knows something neither you nor Zayne knows.

Gripping his chin, you force him to look at you. “Caleb, what you did is irresponsible. You could be suspended—”

“Look,” he urges, shifting his violet eyes to Zayne, a maelstrom of emotion behind them that reminds you of a storm coming. “I know things—I heard them. There might be an attack in Linkon City. It’s why I broke formation and came here—” he winces, “—yeah, it’s a death wish for my career, but I couldn’t just let Pipsqueak be defenseless!” 

Zayne glances at you, and then back at the younger man. “There is going to be an attack?” 

His nebulous violet eyes grow a shade less lucid, and he mumbles his warning, the loss of blood and exhaustion catching up to him. “Potential… Wanderer explosion… new rift in the Deepspace tunnel—”

Caleb’s head slumps and he’s out cold. 

“Shit.” You pat his cheek. “Caleb? Caleb!”

“Let him rest,” Zayne advises, crossing his arms. You don’t see it in the dim lights of your apartment, but there’s a gash on his upper arm, too. The camo does a better job of hiding it than Caleb’s uniform. “His blood loss isn’t too bad, and he should be fine in the morning.” 

He grunts, and you glance at him in worry. “Darling? Are you alright?” 

Zayne waves off your concern. “Go to bed, love. I’ll be fine.”

Barely giving you time to argue, he disappears into the second room, closing the door behind him. A cold eddy stirs from his sudden departure, and you shiver, biting your lower lip. You want to go to him and ask if he’s alright, but Caleb needs you. Zayne’s already done his part to patch him up—now, all he needs is your tender love and attention.

Leaning down, you place a soft kiss on Caleb’s forehead. “Sleep well, gege,” you murmur, “You’re safe here.”

Morning rays filter weakly past the translucent kitchen blinds.

Zayne wakes up and panders out into the living room to find Caleb holding you fast to his chest, his lips drawing a flirtatious line down your throat to your clavicle, your giggles rebounding back to him like a fresh slap in the face. His nostrils flare, and he watches the two of you for a moment, feeling the old green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head again. Not one to reminisce on emotions and instead focus on facts, the brilliant doctor can’t help but understand you come from a world where no one existed to you but Caleb—the boy turned man who’s been by your side through thick and thin.

How he came to be this lucky to get back into your life, Zayne would never fathom. He doesn’t understand what you see in him, not when your Caleb exists in the same reality as you. 

As if you can hear the self-hating thoughts emanating from him, you lift your head from Caleb’s chest, fixing him with a gentle smile that reaches into the depths of his chest and squeezes his lungs together in a tight hug. 

“Good morning, you. C’mere.”

You open your arms to him, and he shifts his gaze to the mercurial purple hues gauging his next reaction. Caleb doesn’t welcome him, but he doesn’t reject him either.

Zayne’s first instinct is to decline your offer, putting up an emotional distance between you and Caleb. But, months of being together with you, and by extension, Caleb himself, chips at his icy self-restraint. He allows such foolish tides to ravage his curiosity, as he slowly advances towards the two of you like a researcher approaching his most studied test subjects.

Caleb’s brow dents, a fraction of his displeasure showing through his unflappable countenance, though he knows better than to let you see it.

You grab him by his arm and tug him onto the couch, squeezing yourself between the two men. You snuggle into his chest while your arms are tight around Caleb, pressing the younger man’s cheek against your shoulder. The effect nearly makes Zayne snort with irony—he looks like he’s cradling two huge babies in his arms.

“Pipsqueak, we need a bigger couch,” Caleb grumbles.

You have to agree. 

Due to the lack of space, your quick shift brushes on Zayne’s injured arm from the night before, and his loud hiss catch both of your attention.

“Zayne?”

“Four eyes—what’s wrong?” 

He winces and grits his teeth to keep from grunting in pain. “It’s fine—”

“Ha. Fat load of a huge lie. You’re bleeding, Li Shen ge,” Caleb points at a spot of blood steadily growing bigger, staining his grey shirt fast. 

Caleb is the first to get up and take the first aid kit, his bare back rippling under the low morning light. Zayne’s eyes track him, like a stag studying his rival’s motions, wondering why he’s being this nice. It can’t be because of you. They’ve both established months ago before this… arrangement… that they would try to be civil with one another, but not go the extra mile unless you requested it.

But, you haven’t said a word, and Zayne is sure he’s about to burst a vein in his temple when Caleb tosses him the first aid kit with a too-wide smirk. “Can’t be too careful so I’m leaving it up to the expert—you are a doctor, after all.”

The hint of jealousy isn’t hard to detect in his tone. But, neither you nor Zayne says a word. You toss Caleb a glare and pick up the white box, opening it to tend to Zayne’s gash. Out of the corner of his eye, Zayne senses a pervasive, possessive energy. Caleb’s eyes barely leave you, and even though he tries to play it cool by popping a can of apple soda and hiding his glare behind the metal rim, Zayne can see through him like they were kids all over again. 

When you three were younger and played house, Caleb would try to wrestle the designation of ‘husband’ from him, but because Zayne was older, you insisted he play the role of the man of the house while Caleb… Zayne tries not to smirk at the fond memory.

Caleb would play the role of the house dog.

“What’s so funny?” 

Zayne chuckles softly before he can help himself. Caleb eyes him skeptically, and he resists the urge to shoot the other man a bland look.

“Just… recalling some fond recollections of us when we were younger.” Zayne rarely speaks about their shared past, and it takes both you and Caleb off guard. “You and I would play husband and wife whenever we got together at the playground,” he slid his cool, emerald gaze towards Caleb. “And, he’d be the dog.”

The other dark-haired man guffaws, and you’re oblivious to how tightly he’s gripping his can of apple soda. “Funnyyy. As I recall, you also left ‘home’ quite often to work, leaving me, the dog at home with her,” Caleb sneers, and the insinuation isn’t lost on Zayne. While both of them work intensive, high-risk jobs, it’s Caleb who often makes the arduous trip back home, no matter how long and tedious his missions are. He can never stay far from you. But, Zayne’s job demands are different. 

He could be pulled away in the middle of dinner, or the middle of the night with little to no heads up, and his hours as a surgeon are erratic and unpredictable. While Caleb gloats, you bandage his wound and tug on it, tightening the makeshift tourniquet. Deciding to ignore the younger man, Zayne turns his attention to you. “Thank you, darling.”

Caleb rolls his eyes at the pet name. 

“Come on. I’m starving and you two are making me want to explode for the second time.” He grumbles as he plucks some eggs from the fridge and a couple of fresh tomatoes. As he makes breakfast, Caleb whistles, intercepting any peace that could descend between you and Zayne. After a quiet meal of scrambled eggs, tomatoes, and some leftover chicken congee, you’re resting on the couch when the surgeon approaches him quietly.

“Did Heath say anything?” 

Despite their animosity when it comes to you, Caleb and Zayne work surprisingly well on the field together. The younger man shakes his head. “Nada. Radio silence.”

Zayne stays quiet for a moment, hands tightening around his coffee cup. “It cannot be a coincidence. The second the alarm sounded, it’s as if—”

“—everything went into a frenzy,” Caleb finishes for him. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck, and Zayne notices the sutures on his skin straining.

“You’re supposed to cover them up,” Zayne heaves a deep sigh and puts his mug down. He retrieves the now well-acquainted first aid kit and removes a roll of bandages. Caleb doesn’t argue when he starts to tend to him—in fact, it’s the quietest the fighter pilot has been since returning to Linkon.

Once Zayne is done, he debates returning to work, when a small whimper from the couch catches both men’s attention. 

Caleb is the first to run to you, always offering himself on the frontline when it comes to your safety and happiness. He gently shakes your shoulder, his free hand brushing through your hair and smoothing the crease in between your brows. Zayne hovers behind him, looking at you with equal worry, though he restrains himself from overwhelming you.

It’s clear you had a bad dream, and when your tear-filled eyes meet Caleb’s, you hiccup a sob.

The effect instantly softens the younger man, who bundles you in his muscular arms and holds you tightly to his broad and bare chest. 

“Ssh. S’okay, Pips. S’okay. I’m here.”

Zayne quietly fetches you a glass of water, and you take it with a slight nod, sipping on the cool liquid as you get used to your bearings again. Embarrassed they caught you doing something this vulnerable, you throw caution to the wind and set the glass down, wrapping your arms tighter around Caleb.

The air trembles with a stillness that reminds him of a bated breath. 

Your lips are the first to seek Caleb’s, and his chest squeezes. Zayne turns away when the younger man deepens the intimate contact, trying to hide how painfully hard his chest is squeezing. Jealousy is a foreign concept to the brilliant surgeon, but when it makes its mark, he suddenly finds its serrating edge digging into him like a rusted knife.

That is until you break apart from Caleb and reach out to grab his hand. 

Your intention is clear: I need you, too. I need both of you. 

Caleb’s shoulders are tense, but he doesn’t outright deny your silent request. He turns to you, and you turn to the surgeon, imploring him to be the one to break this tie—to finally give the three of you a chance to take this leap of faith.

Zayne hesitates for a second, his emerald eyes burning. He wants this—of course, he wants you. He can never say ‘no’ to you. But… his eyes meet a pair of pensive, lilac ones. Does he want Caleb the same way? 

It’s far too early in the morning to have a sexuality crisis. But, when Caleb rolls his eyes at his stagnation, it ignites something deeper inside Zayne’s chest. Something primal.

He’s always seen Caleb as a comrade. Sometimes a rival.

And, maybe, he might be persuaded to change his mind on the notion of Caleb as a ‘lover’. 

The atmosphere warbles with a sense of anticipation, and you look from one man to the other, waiting for them to end this stalemate and just fuck you. 

To your surprise, it’s Zayne that makes the first move. He leans in close, cool lips pressing to the juncture of your neck, working his way to your pulse point and leaving a trail of hot, needy kisses on your warming skin. Not one to be outdone, Caleb joins in, his kisses on the other side of your neck making your core clench, a shiver of heat running up your spine. The sensation of two men licking and sucking down your neck and jaw fills you with a flash of pure, hedonistic greed. Their bodies press closer, almost smothering you with their combined heat. 

Sharp pain blooms from where their teeth dig into your sensitive skin, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You need them both, parched for their affection and attention.

Caleb grunts when Zayne tangles a hand in your hair, tipping your head up further to give them better access to your neck. A warm tongue runs down the side of your throat, dipping to your clavicle where a necklace with an apple charm and snowflake pendant dangle enticingly.

Quick hands make quicker work of your clothes, shedding them to the floor, leaving you in just a pair of ratty, old cotton panties.

Caleb’s palm trickles down the terrain of your stomach, and slips under the loosening band, finding you soaked all the way through for them. He gathers the oozing droplets of glistening juices, smearing it all around your sweetly trembling clit, watching with hooded eyes as you tremble and gasp. 

Zayne takes your tits, his slightly cooler mouth trailing across the plush flesh, leaving goosebumps in the wake. Ahh-mhmm, you moan when his tongue starts to flicker over your right nipple in fast, little licks, before enveloping the whole of his mouth around the juicy mound, his other hand busy tweaking your other nipple. 

Somehow, the small couch doesn’t break from the combination of all three of your bodies on it. Even if it did, you’re hard-pressed to care—not when Zayne hooks your thigh over his, and Caleb spreads your other. There’s only a flimsy barrier left keeping your precious cunt from their prying fingers, tongues, and cocks, and like bloodhounds, your two lovers zero in on their target.

It was a mistake to take both a talented surgeon and a brilliant fighter pilot into your sheets. They’re relentless—precise. Neither Caleb nor Zayne would stop until they leave you a quivering, well-fucked mess.

Caleb tears your panties off, and in a swift motion, kneels onto the floor, as Zayne continues to play with your cherry blush tips, working your nipples to stiff points with his fingers and tongue. It’s all a hazy blur.

You feel Caleb’s tongue part through your folds, messily lapping you up like you’re the fountain of life and he’s been starved of manna for too long. 

Zayne groans around the plushness of your luscious tits in his mouth, his hard-on making an imprint on your hip. You grind back on him as Caleb spears you through with his tongue, sampling you with the finesse of a foodie consuming his favorite cunt. He starts to swirl his tongue on your clit. Zayne bites down on your left nipple.

A pleasure, frenzy cry flies from your lips. You gasp and writhe like a worm on hot concrete, feeling a pair of slender, scarred fingers slipping into your mouth, forcing you to choke on their impeccable length. You’re oozing all over Caleb’s chin. 

This scene is too taboo—too erotic. Two men, equally sculpted by the gods, pleasuring you like you’re a deity on the altar. You feel like you’re on the verge of the biggest orgasm of your life. Close is never close enough when it comes to Caleb and Zayne. 

Caleb moans and the vibrations send a shockwave through your entire body. Zayne massages your chest, taking care to nip and suck on your neck, too, his large palm sliding up your thighs.

 Not content to use his tongue, Caleb starts to employ his fingers. You sometimes forget how big he is. Though no match for his cock, his fingers are equally as formidable. Slender and nimble, with precision from his years of handling guns, he hooks around your cunt, fingers drumming into that sweet spot that makes your toes curl. From the root of your womb to your clit, you’re tensing. Zayne notices your thighs shaking and hums. He gently rolls your nipples, tugging on them lightly, and pinching the blushing buds.

“She’s close,” he observes. 

Endless streams of moans and whines slip from your swollen lips. You’re cross-eyed, gripping onto Zayne’s wrist with one hand and the other clutching onto Caleb’s hair. Your older brother figure moans into your folds, while your childhood friend flicks his wrist, pinching down harder on your throbbing nipples. You lurch forward, unable to stifle a loud cry, and like a burst of flames, you alight, your orgasm washing over you in tremendous waves.

Caleb doesn’t stop eating you out, and Zayne captures your lips with his, needing to taste your surrender right on his tongue. You jerk like a puppet on strings and whine right into the heat of Zayne’s mouth. The stimulation is too much—all at once. Caleb peppers kisses on your thighs and he glances at you, catching your eye, licking his glistening lips.

“Good girl.” Zayne praises you in a low, husky voice. “Came so well for us… now, it’s time for you to return the favor.”

He puts you on his lap, yanking his sweatpants down impatiently. Caleb positions his bigger build behind you, slotting his thighs around Zayne’s, taking up the rear—literally. His kisses brush your shoulder, and you turn back to catch his lips in a sensual, slow kiss where your tongues tangle together in a heated dance.

“Nmh—princess,” Caleb groans, running his hands up and down your sides.

Thank goodness for sturdy, wide couches. Zayne maneuvers you to sink on him, your previous release making you slick enough to take him right to the hilt. In your periphery, you hear Caleb grabbing a plastic bottle, and popping the lid. Cool, slippery lube drips between your cheeks, and you feel the head of his cock prepping to sink inside of your other untameable entrance. 

You shiver at the feel of him, and he growls under his breath. “Fuck—so tight.” 

The sound of Caleb cursing makes you clench down on Zayne, who also curses, and you whine. “Please,” you breathe, “Please take me—”

It's a tangle of limbs and messy kisses. Zayne kisses you. Caleb takes his turn. Both their lips also meet, with you smack in the middle to witness the sight of them French-kissing each other in sheer desperation. 

God, you groan inwardly. That’s fucking hot. 

You’re so full. Where Zayne begins, Caleb ends, and you feel them rubbing against each other. In and out. Over and over again. 

Until the sofa begins to creak. The room starts to spin. You’re clinging onto Zayne for dear life while Caleb looms behind you, his hands digging into your hips. He’s using his Evol to steady himself against falling backward. Mean and fast, his tip batters into your upper rim, while Zayne makes the concave of your pussy his home, his mushroom head bouncing against your cervix in firm plap plap plaps. “Fucckk,” Caleb drawls, smearing a messy kiss into the crook of your neck. He whines and flinches, teeth digging into the soft skin of your pliable, oh-so-defenceless neck. 

“Baby, you taste so fucking sweet,” he growls into your ear, “F-fucck, sweetness, I could eat you up for days.” 

“She’s perfect,” Zayne grits out, pumping his hips in a frenzy, pushed right to the edge; his eyes darkened and dewy with lust. “Ah, shit—” he bites out. His plush lips razor through your paper thin skin, bringing a bloom of heat developing on your already decorated neck. 

Over and over, they consume you. 

“S’good girl,” Caleb babbles right into the crook of your neck, every pump of his thrusts filling you deeper and deeper till you’re stuffed. Gritting out, he bites down on your jugular, nasty and hard, “Such a fucking good girl for us, baby.” His eyes transfix on your pretty lil’ hole stretching out on his cock, how you’re so good for the both of them—taking two thick dicks like a champ. His nostrils flare, and he gulps down a lungful of your sinful fragrance, catching Zayne’s eye.

“Looks like our little princess has been practicin’.”

The older man mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a low, drawn out fucckkk. Goody-two shoes Zayne, swearing, was not on Caleb’s bingo card for the year. But, shit—he can’t blame the Doc. Your pussy is a vice grip, making sweet, little squelches, a symphony he can never get enough. 

Zayne pitches his head forward to lap and suck your neck, while Caleb slips his hands between your thighs to move his fingers against you, rubbing firm circles that have you seeing stars. 

In a matter of minutes, the coil tightens again. 

You tense and cry out, a trickle of treacly drool dripping down your chin. 

A warm tongue laps it up, and your head is bent back, almost poltergeist style, as Caleb slurps on your tongue and moans. Zayne busies himself in between your plush tits, leaving bite marks on them. You’re folding—fast. The tension snaps like a band.

You’re gushing and creamin’ all over, a bit of squirt getting on Zayne’s abdomen and trickling down to Caleb’s thighs. Thick arms wrap around your neck, putting you in a headlock as he thrusts into you hard and fast, their tips bumping deep inside of you. Zayne feels Caleb past the flimsy barrier of your canals, and it would’ve been gross if it didn’t feel so… right. 

The ends of his ears scorch with a blushing intensity, and Zayne looks as if he’s just imbibed a sip of alcohol. Dazy-eyed and with his brows furrowed together, the sight of his unhinged and lustful expression makes you want to come again. Caleb grunts into your ear, and he tips your head back, letting you come face to face with the dark desire in his gaze—waiting to just devour you. 

“Shit.”

“Oh, baby—”

In a fit of simultaneous need, the two men explode deep inside you, filling you up to the brim with warmth. It triggers your own smaller release, and by the time the world stops spinning, you’re lying on a broad chest with someone’s arms wrapped around you. 

Caleb tightens his grip while Zayne buries his face in your hair. 

Miraculously, the sofa manages to hold all three of you. Really—whoever hates Ikea doesn't know the wonders of a Jattebo for threesomes. 

“You okay, love?” Zayne whispers into your neck, and you sigh, nodding. Caleb kisses the top of your head, and in your periphery, he reaches over and twines his fingers with Zayne’s. 

The subtle gesture of affection and acceptance is all you need.

As the morning gives way to the afternoon, you find solace in the comfort of the two men you will forever love. 

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