Rafayel’s dreams are fitful, thick with a feverish haze and muddled with the memories of a life lived too long. All he knows is you are there, haunting memories and dreams alike, just like always. Invading his mind like an addiction he can’t quit. It’s a feeling he loves even as much as it pains him.
He stirs, wakes slowly, just in time to see your hand pull away from his face. The wonder in your eyes…he knows you’ve seen them. The shimmering luminescence of blue scales formed on his cheekbone, his throat. No hiding it now, I guess.
“Shocking, isn’t it?” he asks, shifting to sit up a little straighter on the sofa. “All those legends about the Lemurians…they aren’t just fairy tales.” Admitting he’s a member of a long-vanished marine race is, of course, shocking. He takes your questions in stride, but it’s your insistent touching that stokes his temper. He can’t resist you like this, brought low and at his weakest. He’s defenseless in your presence. You push him a bit too far, touch a bit too long: "Lemurians really are ticklish."
His patience frays as he snatches your wrist, keeping you in a firm grip. “And humans truly are greedy…always exploiting other species when you discover their weaknesses.”
But something in you frays too. He can only stare as you stand in front of him, his chin held in your fingers, drinking in your murmured words of ownership. The irony isn’t lost on him. I’ll have to address you as ‘Master’, hm?
His gaze is profound, almost brooding as he looks at you. A deep and complicated mix of emotions; longing, resentment, obeisance, pain, passion. He doesn’t move, only watches you, unfazed by your provocative assertions.
“Would you really want that?” he murmurs. His expression is unflinching, his gaze sweeping you up in the oceanlike rush of its current.
“Master.”