Work Text:
He invited you over to his place after work to help him gather ‘inspiration’, which ultimately meant walking along the beach of Whitesand Bay and gathering seashells for his handmade pigments for his gallery pieces. Not that you were complaining. A long walk on the beach searching for specific shells was a fantastic way to relax after you spent the last 8 hours at a desk filling your backlog of Wanderer Incident reports until your back ached and your legs were aching to move around. So, when your phone buzzed on your desk, you didn’t hesitate to answer the much-needed distraction, and you really couldn’t help the way the corners of your mouth curved up when you saw his nickname light up your screen.
Hey cutie
Can miss bodyguard accompany me on a
journey to find some inspiration this evening?
I think I can pen you in after work
These reports are killing me, why did I
put them off for so long (,,╥ᯅ╥,,)
then this humble artist can give you a break from
those evil reports after work cutie (>ᴗ•) !
pfft humble
dun bully me ( •̀ - •́ )9
I can be humble too
Ok Mr. Humble World Famous Artist
Still sounds like bullying to me ( •̀ ⤙ •́ )
Buuuuut if you wanna make it up to me
Come to my studio after work
Well in that case, I guess I better show up
I’ll see you after 5, Raf (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
I’ll be waiting cutie~
The promise of a relaxing evening was the motivation that helped you push through your reports so you could get to Mo Art Studio before sunset. Excitement bubbled in your chest the moment you submitted the final report, freeing yourself from the shackles of paperwork at long last. You quickly stood up, shaking the stiffness out of your limbs, and gathered your belongings, and headed to the parking garage for your motorcycle.
And just like that, you were off to Mo Art Studio.
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When you got there, Rafayel was already sitting on the sand, sketchbook in hand, engrossed in whatever be was drawing. He was so focused, you couldn’t help but pause to savor the moment.
As you watch him work, you can’t help but think back to the documentary you watched last night about coral reefs and the fish that inhabit them. Spending time with Rafayel had sparked an interest in marine life since you started working as his bodyguard – the majority of his paintings were inspired by the ocean, ancient Lemuria, and even when he wasn’t actively working on any pieces, he was always drawn back to the sea, wistfully watching as the waves ebb and flow. Until you found out he was a Lemurian on that fateful summer night, you had simply thought that his affinity for the ocean and its creatures was just another one of his eccentricities. The vivacity and abundance of color overflower in the coral reef ecosystems truly did suit the Rafayel, with his own tendency to fully embrace all life had to offer.
In fact, it all reminded you of a specific fish that the documentary featured. It was the –
“Ah! Cutie, you’re here!” Rafayel’s excited exclamation snapped you out of your reverie. A smile graced his fine features as you watched him toss his sketchbook into the sand and stood to greet you.
“Of course,” you replied, lips curving up in a smile like it was the most natural response to seeing him. “What kind of bodyguard would I be if I left my charge to go on a journey for inspiration alone? What if someone recognized world famous art world darling, Rafayel Qi?”
An offended noise left his mouth even as the smile remained, “Again with the bullying. Miss Bodyguard, I hired you to protect me, not mock me!” He ran his hand through his hair in mock distress.
“Oh noooo,” you replied despondently, even as the corners of your mouth pulled upwards. You played along clasping your hands behind your back and leaning forward into his space, “What ever can I do to make it up to you?”
“Hmmm,” he pretended to think, tapping his pointer finger on his chin, lips pursed and eyes shifting to the side. “How about you accompany me on a walk down the beach.”
You sigh as if this is some kind of hardship. You both know it’s not. It could never be. “I suppose if that’s the only way to earn your forgiveness,” you reach out and boop his nose with the tip of your finger. “Then I’ll just have to oblige your impossible request.”
You quickly turn to start walking down the beach and hear a noise of surprise escape the artist. You don’t see the crimson dusting his cheeks and ears, but you know it’s there.
“Ah – h-hey wait, Cutie” he stammers. He quickly catches up to you in a few strides. “I mean, that’s not the only way you could make it up to me,” you hear the pout in his voice. “Actually, there are other ways I can think of-”
You feel his warm hand take your own and let your fingers intertwin with his own
“Nope, you already chose a walk on the beach, Raf. No changing your mind now, Mr. bullied artist.”
“Pfft hahaha!” his laugh is music to your ears and melds so sweetly with the gentle sounds of the waves against the shore. “Ah, I guess I can’t argue with that, my darling Miss Bodyguard.
The two of you walk in tandem, an easy conversation flows, talking about anything that comes to mind, from mundane events of your day at work to the new concept Rafayel is planning for the next gallery showing in a few months. The two of you occasionally pause to pick up a shell washed that has the right shade for his handmade pigments.
As you walk and talk, your mind keeps drifting back to the documentary you watched. Specifically, it takes you to the part where the narrator spoke about a kind of reef fish. There were two types, salt water and fresh water. Apparently, they weren’t related, but they did share some temperamental qualities. Saltwater angelfish have bold personalities and coloring. Some are aggressive and territorial, some are shy and peaceful. Many are curious and some might even swim right up to divers to check them out. Their freshwater counterparts are known to be intelligent, curious, and elegant. Freshwater angelfish even lock lips as displays of dominance or courtship. Both could also be aggressive or semi-aggressive depending on the other fish around them.
Plus, the freshwater types had a habit of locking lips in displays of dominance or courtship.
All these traits reminded you of another fishie closer to your heart.
A warm hand enveloped your own, snapping you out of your thoughts and your eyes snapped to his sunset ones.
“So, what do you think, Cutie?” He displays 2 scallop shells in between the finders of his free hand, one with vibrant strawberry red striations and the other a paler pink, most of its pigment concentrated and radiating out from the hinge. “Which would make a more lovely pink?”
You pause for a minute to mull over your options. The shade of the more vibrant shell reminds you of Rafayel’s evol and his bold magenta tinged flames. By all accounts, it should be the one you choose, it should fit your bold and vibrant artist. The paler pink, however, steals your attention. Something about that shade looks so right in Rafayel’s hand.
“This one,” your fingertips brush the more vibrant shell, “and this one,” you pluck the paler one out of his hold, “is mine to keep.”
“Oh?” He moved closer into your space. “And why’s that?”
Because it’s the same shade as your lips. Because it’s the same shade as that pretty blush that dusts your cheeks when I make you laugh. Because it compliments the sunset in your eyes. Because the color looks so right within your grasp.
“I just like it more as a shell than a shade,” is your reply.
He hums. “Is that all?”
“Well,” you bring the shell up to your lips, “I suppose the color also reminds me of a certain fishie.”
“Oh?” he tilts his head as he smoothly tucks the other shell safely into his pocket. ““And what fishie might that be, Cutie?”
You reached out your free hand to rest on his soft wavey hair. He closed his eyes and leaned down. Just when he was the perfect height and angle, you ruffled his hair until it was all mussed. “You, Rafayel. Don’t tease when you already know the answer,” you softly scolded with a laugh.
“Hey, hey! Cutieeeee,” he complained as he dodged out of your clutches. His trademark pout morphed onto his face and his eyes glanced up as he tried to put his amethyst hair back into place. “Again with the bullying,” he pouted, “you’re supposed to be making it up to me, not antagonizing me! Are you gonna put it back in place now that you’ve messed it all up?” His blue-pink eyes slid over to you expectantly.
You gave a long-suffering sigh, as though playing with your boyfriend’s hair was the most difficult task known to mankind, and flick a few locks back into place. “There you go, everything is back in place,” you said after a minute and he gave a hum of approval.
The two of you continued you walk on the beach, flirty remarks ping ponging back and forth until a flash caught your eye. You stopped and shifted about until you saw a glimmering spot on the beach in between waves. Rafayel was a few paces ahead until he noticed you hadn’t responded to his latest line, then turned to follow your line of sight.
“Something catch your eye, Cutie?”
You hummed in response, focused on the shiny object and walked over to it. He joined you as you crouched down and stretched out your arm to retrieve the item from the water and pulled an abalone shell the size of your hand out of the water. You held it up to look at it, and rotated it in your grip as clumps of wet sand and small bits of seaweed fell off the shell. The outside of it was a ruddy tone akin to dull bricks. The inside, however, was coated in mother of pearl and its iridescence caught the golden rays from the sun, flashing as you tilted it about.
Rafayel stood opposite of you, crouched in the surf, and gently took the shell from your hold to examine it. With the shell holding his complete attention, you glanced up at his reaction and the sight stole your breath away.
The last rays of golden sunlight dance across the ocean waves, turning the steady waves into tides of ever shifting glitter. The sky is a brilliant display of red, magenta, brilliant rosy shades blending into fiery swipes of crimsons and oranges, sharply contrasted by clouds of lavender, amethyst, and periwinkle.
In front of you stood Rafayel, himself a stunning work of art accentuated by the very elements of his own domain. The sea spray had kissed his right cheek while you both were walking along the waves and left water droplets glittering in its wake. His violet waves flowed gently in the light breeze beckoning you both towards the water. The brilliant sunset served as a backlight to his form, bathing your boyfriend in a warm golden halo, making the rouge dusting his cheeks practically glow, while his brilliant jewel toned eyes shone with mischief and amusement and his plush lips quirked to the side, a smile played on his lips as he rambled about the shell – Not that you were fully paying attention at this point.
Gods the sight made you ache.
You watched his mouth form every word, enraptured by the passion and excitement radiating off of him as you felt the heat rush to your face from the display. Then he paused and looked at you expectantly. After a moment his head tilted to the side and he said your nickname,
“Ah, what was that, Angelfish?” you replied, almost dazed.
You watched as the loquacious artist seemed to freeze and time seemed to slow as you watched his shoulders jolt up and heard his breath hitch. One of his perfectly manicured eyebrows tweaked upward and his dual toned eyes widened. The corner of his kissable lips twitched up and the rosy hue that dusted his cheeks deepened to a crimson that reached the tips of his ears.
Oh.
Oh.
A strangled sound escaped his throat and after a beat your boyfriend seemed to reboot and come back online.
“Ah – Cutie, that’s – you can’t just –” Another unknown sound escaped him.
It wasn’t often you caught Rafayel at a loss for words, and even when it did happen, it never lasted for long.
Oh no, you needed to take full advantage, and your mouth stretched into an uncontrollable grin as you took in his flustered state.
Rafayel’s hand ran through his hair as he tried to piece together some semblance of composure but you refused to give him even a moment as you stepped into his space.
“Can’t do what, my darling Angelfish?” you drawled as you leaned in until you could feel the warmth radiating off his cheeks.
He glared at you, but the only heat in him was burning across his face. “You!” he huffed, “Cutie, you can’t just –” he averted his gaze and, softer, tried again, “You can’t just spring that on me without any warning.”
You veered back into his line of sight and cupped his cheek with your palm so he couldn’t turn away again. “I really don’t know what you’re taking about, Angelfish? What did I spring on you, Angelfish?”
You didn’t think his face could flush more, but you’ve been wrong before, and watched in real time as the color deepened and his eyes turned glassy from the blood that pulsed beneath his fair skin. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch while he took a deep breath.
Then his eyes snapped open and his hands shot out to grab your wrists.
He cleared his throat and took another breath, “Cutie, I should document what you’re doing as evidence. This is clearly fish abuse!”
You huffed a laugh and leaned forward to sneak a peck onto the tip of his nose, “Oh, I would never abuse my beloved fishie. You know that, Angelfish.”
He scoffed. “Stop calling me that.”
“Calling you what? You really need to be specific, Angelfish.”
“THAT!”
You hummed and tilted your head in mock confusion.
He huffed again and muttered, “Angelfish.”
You leaned in and whispered into his ear, “You don’t like it?”
He made another sound low in his throat that could almost count as a whimper and you felt the shiver that ran though him. You filed that away for later.
“No.” He takes a shaky breath “I – I like it. I . . . like it a lot.”
You hummed, encouraging your flustered boyfriend to continue.
“Maybe . . . Maybe I like it too much,” He pulled back so you’re looking into each other’s eyes.
A shiver raced up your spine and you realized that his hands had long since migrated from your wrists to encircle your waist and hold you close to him. Your newly free right hand moves to the back of his neck. “Oh? My Angelfish likes the new nickname?” you tease and lean your forehead against his.
He hummed an affirmative and nuzzled his forehead against yours. You felt him mumble into your neck, “Cutie, you’ll be the death of me.” And you gave a soft chuckle at his dramatics and raked your hand through his soft, slightly damp hair.
For a moment, the only thing you can hear is the sound of the waves punctuated by the occasional squawk of a gull lulling you further into the moment.
“Why?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you land on ‘Angelfish?”
You flashed him a smile and both your hands cupped his cheeks. “I was watching a documentary on reef fish –”
“Aww, Cutie were you watching that to learn more about your favorite fishie?”
You squish his cheeks lightly. “No interruptions, Angelfish. But, yes, I may have picked it because of my favorite deep-sea creature.”
He chuckled and you continued, “It talked about angelfish and mentioned freshwater and saltwater angelfish – which aren’t related mind you.”
“Of course.”
“And their personalities reminded me of you. Bold, curious, vibrant, calm or aggressive depending on the other fish around them.”
He nodded along as you spoke, handing on every word.
“Aaaaaand the freshwater ones lock lips to assert dominance. Or for courting,” you added on, and watched as his gaze dropped to your own lips.
He hummed then replied, “Since you see me as an angelfish, then maybe I should act more like them,” and pressed his plush lips against your own.
You briefly pulled back to ask, “So are you asserting dominance or courting, Angelfish?”
The love drunk look on his face was enough of an answer – darkened eyes, pupils blown, flushed face, gaze glued to your own lips – and he replied, “Guess,” before he dove back in. Rafayel quickly deepened the kiss, and his tongue slipped in as you melted against his affection. His kisses were unrelenting, wave after wave of affection and want washed over you as your mouths moved in tandem and he swallowed every one of your gasps and quiet moans. He withdrew a bit and, before you could protest, his teeth sunk into your bottom lip, the sharp points of his incisors just gentle enough to not draw blood – not that you’d complain much if he did.
He pulled back for a moment and licked his lips. “I don’t know Cutie, I think I’m more of a shark, yeah?”
You looped your arms around his neck and pulled him back in, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and kissed the sensitive skin there, and savored the sea salt that lingered on his skin, then latched on, and he gave a delicious gasp as your teeth sinking into his sun-warmed skin. His body curled around you when you placed a gentle kiss on the blossoming bruise and oh how you liked that color on him. So,a you decided to turn the single blossom into a blooming bouquet along his throat, indulging in the sounds your boyfriend made. When you finally pulled back, satisfied with your work, you could practically see the hearts in his eyes.
“. . . Ooooor maybe you’re the shark, Cutie. You’re mauling me over here,” he teased breathlessly.
“I’ll be the shark,” you playfully snapped your teeth at him, playing the part, “And you’ll be my Angelfish, then.”
The darkness had enveloped the two of you long ago, but you had no interest in ending the night with the arrival of the crescent moon. Rafayel had the same idea.
“C’mon Cutie, let’s head home,” he took your hand and brough it up to his lips, “I wanna show you exactly how much I love your new nickname.”