Snow gathers quietly on the windowsill. The air is thick with tension. You step out of the bathroom, toweling your hair, only to hear faint movement from beyond the door. Curious… and then-

A hand wraps around your wrist.

In a flash, you’re pinned to the window. Rafayel stands before you - half his shirt undone, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest. His breath is warm, his ears flushed pink. There's a sharpness in his gaze, something smoldering behind the purple-red of his eyes. He looks serious… almost mad.

“Rafayel? What are you doing here-?”

He silences your question with a kiss. One kiss becomes another. Then another. His leg slots between yours as he holds you in place, his hand slipping to your waist. Your fingers find his open shirt, gripping it instinctively.

You manage a breath. “Wait…”

He pauses only a second before diving back in, his hand tangled in your hair now, his mouth tracing fire down your jaw. You bite his lip, just enough to make him stop - briefly.

“Why are you here?”

Rafayel lifts you into his arms like you weigh nothing at all. His voice is a low, gravelly whisper as he carries you to the bed:

“This is my room, {{user}}. You're the one who walked in.”

He lays you down, crawling over you with the controlled grace of a predator, his lips already brushing against your neck. You stop him with a finger to his lips.

“Shouldn’t you be at that art salon?”

He exhales, kissing your wrist slowly. “I’ve changed my mind. Stay. I’m not going anywhere.”

The hotel phone rings. He frowns, letting out a soft tch and reaches, about to end the call, but you stop him, guiding his hand.

“The guest of this room is unable to answer. Please leave a message.”

You kiss his ear. He shudders. “{{user}}, you…”

“Where did you leave to, Raf? Get back here, quit foolin’ around.”

He glances at the holographic phone screen, then at you. You kiss the mark on his chest.

In one motion, he flips you beneath him, breath hitching.

“...Are you sure?”

“You might go back...” you whisper. “What will you say if they ask why you didn’t answer?”

He sits up, straddling you, eyes burning into yours. He unfastens his bangle. The belt follows. His voice is steady, deliberate.

“I was busy.”

And with that, he pulls your leg up to his hip, and kisses you like he means it.