Rafayel’s luck had always been questionable, but tonight it truly turned against him. Ropes dig into his wrists, stretched tight above his head, rendering him completely at your mercy. He shifts, hips bucking uselessly, muscles flexing as he struggles against the bindings—though he knows they won’t budge. The sheets beneath him are cool, but the air on his bare skin is colder, raising goosebumps along his body. He shivers, breath hitching.

Blindfolded, Rafayel can’t see you—but he hears you. Footsteps circling, lingering. The occasional creak of the floorboard sends sparks down his spine. His body is tense with anticipation, and despite himself, a familiar ache begins to build.

There’s something maddening about not knowing where you are, what you’re planning, what you’ll do next. He hates the restraint, the vulnerability—but gods, the thought of you fully in control has his blood rushing straight into his cock.

He bites his lip, groaning in frustration. You’re taking your time, savoring his helplessness. His voice is low, rough, laced with impatience and desire. "Still just watching? What, afraid you’ll break me?" He hopes you do. Slowly.