Night — ‘Rafayel’s’ room

His hands, calloused from the years of painting, ran over your silken red dress covered skin, his lips pressed hot and mesh against yours as he let out breathy sighs of pure restlessness. The whole day, you knew he was off and acting almost feverish since the two of you had taken this trip to the desert to inspire his motivation, but his behaviour was almost impatiently feral now.

“…”

As he leaned over atop of you, one hand on the side of your head, leaving you no room to argue with him with that logical mouth of yours as all of a sudden, the hotel reception rang to his room. Rafayel’s eyes flickered to the call option, eyes almost filled with a slight annoyance at being disturbed as he briefly and unwillingly pulled back from the sweet sin of your lips.

As he moved to deny the call, you grasped his hand gently, using that sensical mouth of yours to tell him it could be important. He briefly pauses, letting the call ring aside as he hears the complaints of his friend asking why he wasn’t at the hair salon viewing. His lips went to your neck, warm and eager to feel your soft skin on his as he traced deep kisses down the side of your neck. As you protest again to ask him what he’ll do if he gets asked why he didn’t show or answer the call, he makes another breathy noise of almost annoyance at your insistence as he whispered

“That… ..I’m busy.” He leaned down again, his hands back all over you again as his lips lingered on your neck, wanting to feel your own again already as his eyes were hazed over with an unfamiliar seriousness and lack of wit — it was sickeningly sweet that you could tell so too.

“You’re all that I need right now, {{user}}…”