Until Morning (Azriel) - One Shot (18+)
I wrote this over a year ago, kind of nervous to share this one but I you know what it's a Friday so why not double post.
The Motherlist
Summary: a dare at Rita's leads to an unexpected conversation with the Shadowsinger. One drink turns into an entire night, and by sunrise, neither of them is ready to say goodbye.
Content warnings: explicit sexual content, alcohol, fluff
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Rita's was loud enough that conversations had to be shouted and laughter disappeared beneath the music almost as quickly as it was born. The dance floor was crowded, glasses clinked against polished wood behind the bar, and somewhere in the corner someone was singing along to a song they clearly didn't know the words to.
It was exactly what she'd needed after a long week.
"So," her friend Daphne announced over the rim of her drink, "are you finally going to tell us when the last time was that you actually talked to a male you didn't already know?"
A beat of silence followed, quickly filled by Daphneâs grin widening. "And I don't mean one of the shopkeepers you politely nod at on your way to work. I mean a stranger."
She frowned. "I talk to people."
"You order coffee and say thank you," Elia supplied helpfully.
"I have conversations."
"With us," Daphne said sweetly. "And your plants."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Daphne wasnât finished.
"Honestly, I think the last time you spoke to a man you didnât already know was-what? Two years ago? Three?"
"That is not true."
"It is absolutely true."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "I just donât see the need to talk to strangers all the time."
"Thatâs not what weâre saying," Lysa replied, leaning forward. "Weâre saying youâve built an entire life where the only males you interact with are strictly platonic relations."
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "Thatâs a very specific category."
"Itâs accurate."
She rolled her eyes, but before she could think of a proper retort, Daphne tilted her head. "You know what I think?"
"Iâm afraid to ask."
"I think youâve forgotten how to flirt."
"I have not-" She opened her mouth to say something else when the atmosphere inside the bar shifted.
Not dramatically. No one stopped dancing, the music didn't falter, and conversations continued uninterrupted. But heads turned all the same. The Inner Circle had arrived. It happened every time. Some people offered nods of greeting. Others simply watched them pass, curiosity lingering for a heartbeat before returning to their own evenings. They weren't loud or demanding, but they carried themselves with an effortless confidence that naturally drew attention.
Rhysand walked beside Feyre, their hands brushing as they moved through the crowd. Cassian was already laughing at something someone had said, his voice carrying above the music. Amren looked as though she'd rather be anywhere else.
And then there was him. She found him before she realized she was looking. He walked a pace behind the others, hands tucked into the pockets of his pants, his expression unreadable beneath the dim amber lights of Rita's.
Azriel.
She knew his name only because everyone in Velaris seemed to.
The shadows came first. Not because they announced him, but because they refused to obey the rules of ordinary darkness. Wisps of black drifted lazily around his shoulders before disappearing altogether, only to reappear near one of his hands a moment later. One curled around his wrist like smoke before slipping away again. They moved as though they had minds of their own.
She couldn't stop watching them. Or him.
He wasn't handsome in the obvious way Cassian was. He was... drop dead gorgeous. The thought arrived so suddenly it caught her off guard.
Sharp cheekbones softened by the warm lighting. Dark hair that looked perpetually windswept. Broad shoulders filling out his shirt. There was something restrained about him, something almost lonely despite standing among people who clearly loved him.
She wondered (briefly and entirely against her better judgment) what it would feel like if one of those shadows brushed against her skin.
Her stomach flipped. Gods. Get a grip.
She took a very determined sip of her drink.
"What are you looking at?"
She nearly choked.
Daphne was watching her with far too much amusement.
"I wasn't looking."
"You were absolutely looking."
"And smiling," Elia added.
"I was not."
Both of them slowly turned to look toward the table where the Inner Circle had settled. Then they looked back at her.
"It's the shadows, isn't it?" Elia grinned.
Her silence answered for her.
"I knew it."
"They're interesting," she defended weakly.
"They're attached to the most attractive male in Velaris."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
She buried her face in her glass. "I hate all of you."
"No, you don't." Daphne leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "You should ask him to dance."
She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because..." She gestured vaguely toward Azriel. "Look at him."
Two heads turned. "What about him?"
"He looks..." Dangerous. Untouchable. Like someone who would politely decline and somehow still make her want to disappear into the floor. "He looks busy," she finished instead.
"He looks single," Daphne corrected.
Elia smirked. "I dare you."
She stared. "...You're serious?"
"Completely, Come on."
"No."
"You're never going to see him again."
"I could see him again."
"But you won't ask him then either."
She hated how accurate that sounded. Her gaze drifted back across the room before she could stop it. He was listening to Cassian now, though only half-heartedly if the faint, absent look in his eyes meant anything. One of his shadows curled lazily around the stem of his glass. He looked impossible to approach.
Absolutely not. She had no business walking over there. She didn't know him. He didn't know her. He'd probably think she'd lost her mind. Exactly, the sensible part of her agreed. Stay exactly where you are.
Another, far more reckless part of her whispered that she'd regret it the moment she walked out of Rita's. She sighed. You're a grown woman, you're capable of asking someone to dance. If he says no... he'll say no. Life would continue. She'd survive the embarrassment, probably.
Elia nudged her shoulder. "What's the worst that could happen?"
She looked toward Azriel once more. He hadn't noticed her. Or maybe he had. Either way... She smiled despite herself. "You're right."
Daphne's grin widened. "Oh, she's actually doing it."
Before she could lose her nerve, she slid from her chair, smoothed the wrinkles from her silk dress, took one steadying breath, and crossed the room toward the table occupied by the most intimidating group in all of Velaris.
đ¤đ ཟđ°ââ
The distance between their table and his suddenly felt much longer than it had looked from across the room. She resisted the urge to turn around. Keep walking.
By the time she reached the table, every ounce of confidence she'd managed to gather had all but evaporated. No backing out now.
She cleared her throat. "Excuse me?"
Six pairs of eyes lifted toward her. Well. This was somehow worse than she'd imagined. Rhysand regarded her with quiet curiosity, Feyre offered an encouraging smile, Mor looked as though she already knew exactly why she was there, and Cassian... Cassian looked positively delighted. Amren barely spared her a glance before returning to her drink.
Then there was Azriel. Up close, he was even more unfairly attractive. The warm glow of Rita's softened the sharp planes of his face, though not enough to hide the quiet intensity in his hazel eyes. One curious shadow drifted lazily over his shoulder before disappearing somewhere behind him.
He looked at her expectantly. His attention was so unwavering that she nearly forgot why she'd come over.
"I..." Brilliant start. She forced herself to smile. "I was wondering if you'd like to dance."
Silence. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. Just unexpected.
Azriel blinked once, as though the question genuinely surprised him. Beside him, Cassian's eyebrows climbed so high they nearly disappeared into his hair. Mor pressed her lips together, clearly fighting a smile.
She'd made a terrible mistake. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "You don't have to answer that. My friends dared me and I thought-"
"I don't like this kind of dancing." The words were gentle, matter-of-fact rather than dismissive.
"Oh." Of course he didn't. She laughed softly at herself and nodded. "Right. Well... thank you for letting me interrupt your evening."
She had just begun to step back when he spoke again. "I would, however..." She looked back. "...be happy to have a drink with you."
For a heartbeat, she simply stared. "...Really?"
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. "Really."
Complete silence settled over the table. She could practically feel the astonishment radiating from everyone around them. Cassian looked as though someone had punched the air from his lungs. Mor's eyes widened before an unmistakably smug smile spread across her face. Even Rhysand's expression shifted ever so slightly, amusement flickering behind his calm composure as he reached for his whiskey.
She glanced between all of them before looking back at Azriel. "I feel like I've interrupted something."
"You have," Cassian answered immediately.
"Cassian," Feyre warned, though she was smiling into her glass.
"What?" he said innocently. "I'm just saying this is unexpected."
Azriel didn't take his eyes off her. "Ignore him."
She laughed, the last of her nerves easing from her shoulders. "I'll do my best."
He rose from his chair in one smooth motion. He was tall. She'd known that already, but standing this close to him drove the point home. She found herself tilting her head to meet his eyes. It made her stomach tingle.
"Come on," he said quietly.
She nodded.
As they walked toward the bar together, she couldn't shake the strange feeling of half the room watching them. Maybe they were. Or maybe it was just the five people they'd left behind.
She had the distinct impression she'd be the topic of at least one conversation before the night was over.
đ¤đ ཟđ°ââ
They ended up in one of the quieter booths tucked into the far corner of Rita's, just far enough from the dance floor that they could hear each other without shouting.
It wasn't exactly quiet, but more secluded. She slid onto the bench first, smoothing her dress beneath her before Azriel settled beside her rather than across from her.
Close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
A server appeared almost instantly. "The usual?" she asked Azriel.
He nodded before glancing at her. "What are you having?"
"Iâll have same as whatever you're having."
One dark eyebrow lifted. "Brave."
She laughed. "I've already walked over to ask a complete stranger to dance. I feel like I've committed to making questionable decisions tonight."
A quiet chuckle escaped him. "I'll try not to disappoint you."
When the drinks arrived, she lifted her glass toward him. "To questionable decisions."
He touched his glass lightly against hers. "To courage."
She wasn't sure why that made her smile as much as it did. For a moment, they simply watched the crowd. "You come here often?" she asked.
"Occasionally."
She looked at him expectantly. "...That's all you're giving me?"
A corner of his mouth twitched. "You asked a yes-or-no question."
She laughed. "I suppose I did."
He turned slightly toward her. "What about you?"
"My friends drag me here every few weeks."
"And if they hadn't dared you?"
She groaned, covering her face for a second. "We're pretending that part didn't happen."
"So you weren't planning on talking to me?"
"I was planning on admiring you from a safe distance." The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her eyes widened. She considered hiding beneath the table.
Azriel's expression softened into unmistakable amusement. "I appreciate your honesty."
"I blame the alcohol."
"You're not drunk."
"...I blame my friends."
"I suspected as much."
She smiled into her glass.
"So," he said after a moment, "what do you do?"
"I work at a daycare."
Something changed in his expression. Not dramatically. Just enough that she noticed.
"You do?"
She nodded. "I spend my days surrounded by tiny people who think finger paint belongs on the ceiling and that every bug they find absolutely has to be shown to me."
His eyes warmed. "And you enjoy it."
"I love it." There wasn't a second's hesitation. "They're exhausting." She laughed. "By the end of every day I swear I'm going to find a quieter career."
"But?"
"But then one of them decides I'm their favorite person in the world because I tied their shoe or remembered they like the blue cup better than the green one." She shrugged. "It's hard to stay grumpy after that."
He was watching her with an expression she couldn't quite place. "You must be very patient."
She snorted. "You've clearly never seen me trying to convince young ones that crayons aren't food."
That earned a genuine laugh. Low, warm, and far prettier than she'd imagined.
"There was one little boy," she continued, smiling despite herself. "Every single morning he'd run into the classroom, point at me and yell, 'You're back!' like he'd been convinced overnight that I'd disappear forever."
Azriel smiled. Not the polite sort she'd seen him offer moments ago. This one reached his eyes. "You mattered to him."
"I think I mostly reminded him where the biscuits were."
"I'm not convinced that makes a difference."
She laughed so suddenly she nearly spilled her drink. He was already looking at her. The smile was still there. For the briefest moment, it seemed he'd forgotten to hide it. Then, almost as if catching himself, he lowered his gaze to his glass. She found herself smiling too.
Conversation shouldn't have been this easy.
Yet somehow, with a male she'd met less than fifteen minutes ago, it felt as though neither of them had to try very hard at all.
đ¤đ ཟđ°ââ
At some point, she realised they hadn't touched their drinks in several minutes. She couldn't have said when it had happened. Only that somewhere between talking about the children at the daycare and him telling her about the bakery that made the best cinnamon rolls in Velaris, the conversation had stopped feeling like one between strangers.
"So they really made you wear a paper crown?" Azriel asked, a hint of amusement lingering in his voice.
She groaned. "It was Princess Day."
"And you were the princess."
"I was appointed princess. One of the little girls informed me my crown was 'acceptable.'" She used her fingers to make exaggerated quotation marks. "Acceptable, Azriel. She was five."
A quiet laugh escaped him. "And did you recover?"
"Barely." She smiled into her glass before taking another sip.
The music shifted to something louder, the steady rhythm carrying across the room as more people crowded onto the dance floor.
"What?" Azriel asked.
She frowned. "What?"
"You said something."
"I didn't."
"I thought you did." He leaned closer, just slightly, as if testing the space between them. Only a little. Just enough that she could make out the flecks of green in his hazel eyes.
Still, he paused. Listened. Then exhaled once, quiet.
"Oh," she said. "No."
He nodded once.
Neither of them moved away. For a moment, it seemed like neither of them quite knew whether they were supposed to.
Eventually, the conversation continued as though nothing had happened. A few minutes later, she was telling him about a little boy who had insisted worms were "just tiny snakes with confidence" when he tilted his head again.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I missed that."
She repeated herself. This time, he didn't just lean in. He shifted closer properly, closing the distance until there was no longer any question of space between them. His shoulder brushed hers, then stayed there. Intentional now, even though it was the lightest contact imaginable.
But it didn't move away. He didn't apologise. He didn't move away, either. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, close enough that she could catch the faint scent of cedar and night-chilled air clinging to him beneath the warmth of Rita's.
"...and then he tried to put the worm in my pocket," she finished.
Azriel laughed. "A future naturalist."
"A future menace."
"I imagine there's a fine line."
"There really is."
Again, neither of them acknowledged that they hadn't put any space between them. She certainly noticed. She was acutely aware of every inch. His knee angled toward hers beneath the table, the warmth radiating from his arm, the way one of his shadows drifted lazily between them before curling around the back of the booth, as though even it had settled in for the conversation.
"What made you choose a daycare?"
She answered, and halfway through explaining how she'd always loved working with children, he inclined his head toward her once more. Close enough now that if she turned, she'd be looking directly into his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice low enough that it was nearly lost beneath the music. "It's difficult to hear you."
She blinked. It wasn't, not really. They were tucked away in one of quieter corners of Rita's. The music reached them, certainly, but she'd had no trouble hearing a single word he'd said all evening.
Besides⌠He hadn't asked her to repeat herself once. Not until he'd found another excuse to move closer. The realization settled over her slowly, and then all at once.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
He wasn't leaning in because of the music, he was leaning in because he wanted to.
And, judging by the almost imperceptible curve of his lips when he noticed her smile, he knew she'd figured it out.
*****
She let the silence linger. Not because she didn't know what to say. Because she wanted to see what he would do. He held her gaze for another heartbeat before taking an unhurried sip of his drink.
Completely composed. At least on the surface.
The corner of her mouth lifted. "You know..."
"Hm?"
"I don't think it's the music."
He tilted his head ever so slightly. "What isn't?"
"The reason you keep leaning closer."
For the first time that evening, she caught him off guard. It was almost imperceptible. A brief stillness. One of his shadows, lazily circling the back of the booth, paused with him.
"I've heard every word you've said," she continued, unable to stop smiling. "We haven't had to repeat ourselves once."
His eyes searched hers. "So either your hearing comes and goes very selectively..."
She leaned in just enough to close the last fraction of space between them.
"...or you're using it as an excuse."
Another beat of silence. She waited for him to deny it, but he didn't. Instead, his gaze drifted briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. "So you've noticed."
Her heart gave one traitorous thump. "I have."
"And yet," he said quietly, "you haven't moved away."
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. "I suppose I haven't."
"No." His voice had dropped lower somehow, nearly swallowed by the music surrounding them.
"You could."
She knew what he was offering. An out. A chance to reclaim the space between them.
Instead, she found herself smiling. "I could." She didnât move.
One of his shadows floated curiously between them before settling around the back of the booth again, as if deciding to leave them to it.
She glanced toward it. "Do they always do that?"
His eyes followed hers. "They're curious."
"About everyone?"
A small shake of his head. "No."
She smiled, watching one curious tendril drift cautiously nearer before retreating again. "I think they're deciding whether they approve of me."
"I think," Azriel murmured, unable to hide the faint amusement in his voice, "they decided that a while ago."
She looked back at him. He was already looking at her. The air between them had changed. The teasing had faded into something quieter, something warmer.
She became suddenly, acutely aware of how close they were. Her pulse quickened. Neither of them seemed interested in discovering what would happen if they created distance instead. Neither reached for their drink. Neither looked back toward the dance floor.
The rest of Rita's continued around them. Music, laughter, glasses clinking somewhere beyond their little corner. It all felt impossibly far away.
The silence stretched between them. She couldn't remember the last time she'd sat beside someone she'd only just met and felt so completely at ease.
Azriel hadn't looked away. Neither had she.
His eyes drifted to her lips again for the briefest moment before returning to meet hers. It was enough. Enough to send her heart racing. Enough to make her wonder if she was imagining the whole thing.
She swallowed.
Say something.
Nothing came.
The corner of his mouth was still curved into that faint smile she'd come to realize was rare. Reserved. Given rather than offered. She liked that smile. Gods, she liked him.
The realization landed with startling clarity. She liked the quiet way he listened. The way he'd asked questions instead of trying to impress her. The way he'd smiled every time she laughed, as though he hadn't meant to. The way he'd been inching closer all evening under the flimsiest excuse imaginable.
A laugh almost escaped her. If you don't do this now...
She would spend the next week wondering what might have happened. Wondering if she'd imagined the way he'd looked at her. Wondering whether she'd been brave enough to find out.
Her pulse hammered in her ears. What's the worst that could happen?
The words floated back to her, accompanied by Elia's smug grin. She smiled to herself.
Before she could think better of it, she leaned forward. Only an inch. Maybe two.
She paused just long enough that he would have every opportunity to stop her. He didn't.Â
Her lips brushed his. Soft, tentative.
Barely more than a whisper of a kiss.
It lasted only a heartbeat before she pulled away again. Heat flooded her cheeks the instant she realized what she'd done. "Oh." A nervous laugh escaped her. "I..." She shook her head, smiling despite herself. She searched his face, suddenly terrified she'd misread everything. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "That was probably incredibly presumptuous."
For one impossible second, the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.
Azriel didn't answer. He simply looked at her. His expression hadn't hardened, if anything it had become unreadable in a way that made her breath catch.
She resisted every instinct telling her to fill the silence.
So she waited and hoped.
đ¤đ ཟđ°ââ
The kiss had lasted no more than a heartbeat.
It should have been easy to dismiss.
It wasn't.
Azrielâs thoughts, so often ordered and disciplined, scattered the moment she'd closed the distance between them. She had kissed him. Not because she'd expected anything. Not because she'd demanded anything. She had kissed him because she'd been brave enough to take a chance.
The realization settled somewhere deep in his chest.
His shadows had gone utterly still. Usually they whispered, fidgeted, darted through every room before he entered it. Now they hovered quietly behind him, as if even they were waiting to see what he would do.
She was apologizing. He barely heard the words.
His attention had narrowed to the flush spreading across her cheeks, the nervous smile tugging at her lips, the uncertainty she'd tried so hard to hide.
She thought she'd made a mistake. Gods. She'd done the opposite.
He'd noticed her the moment she'd walked into Rita's. Not when she'd asked him to dance. Before that. She'd been laughing with her friends, completely unaware that one of his shadows had drifted across the room out of idle curiosity.
It had returned. Then wandered back again. The shadows had liked her before he'd even spoken to her, whispering in his ear that she liked him. That alone should have made him suspicious. Instead, he'd found himself watching.
Wondering why someone with such an easy smile looked so hesitant to use it. Wondering why she kept glancing toward him before immediately looking away. When she'd finally walked over, he'd already known what his answer would be.
Not the dance.
A drink.
A conversation.
Just long enough to satisfy the curiosity he'd felt the instant he'd noticed her. Except somewhere between her stories about children wearing paper crowns and laughing over worms with confidence... Curiosity had quietly become something else.
Something infinitely more dangerous. He hadn't realized how close he'd been sitting until she'd pointed it out. Hadn't realized how transparent he'd become. Then his gaze dropped, almost involuntarily, to her lips.
Sheâd kissed him so light he could almost convince himself he'd imagined it. Except he hadn't. He could still feel it, a soft tingling sensation where her mouth had touched his.
She shifted almost imperceptibly beside him. Not away. Just enough that he caught the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes again.
She was waiting for him to speak. To reject her. To laugh. To politely tell her she'd misunderstood.
Instead, Azriel lifted one scarred hand.
Slowly.
Giving her every opportunity to stop him.
She didn't.
His fingertips brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face before his palm settled gently against her cheek. He was aware of his scarred hands, but she leaned into the touch without thinking.
His breath caught. "There is," he said quietly, his thumb stroking once across her cheekbone, "absolutely nothing to apologize for."
He held her gaze for another long moment. Then, with all the patience in the world, he closed the distance between them.
His lips met hers with a tenderness that stole the breath from his lungs.
Slow and unhurried. As if he was asking the same question she'd asked only moments before.
May I?
She answered almost immediately.
The hesitation she'd worn after her apology melted away as she leaned into him, her hand lifting almost shyly to rest against his forearm.
Relief bloomed somewhere deep in Azriel's chest. She wanted this.
He let himself savor the moment. The warmth of her lips. The quiet sigh she breathed between them.
The way she instinctively leaned closer until there wasn't an inch of space left between their shoulders. She tasted like her sunshine and whiskey, and he couldn't get enough.
His thumb continued its slow path across her cheek, the movement absentminded now. It was comforting.
When they finally parted, it was only by a fraction. Just enough to breathe. Her eyes remained closed for a heartbeat longer before fluttering open.
She smiled. Not the nervous smile she'd worn after the first kiss. A softer one. "I was beginning to think I'd imagined that." The words escaped her in little more than a whisper.
Azriel felt the corner of his mouth lift. "You didn't."
"No?"
A quiet shake of his head. "I was deciding how to answer."
"And this..." She glanced briefly at his lips before meeting his eyes again. "...was your answer?"
"I thought it was clearer than words."
A laugh bubbled out of her, light and utterly genuine. "I'll admit," she murmured, "it was."
He found himself laughing with her. It was quiet. One of those laughs Cassian was forever insisting he was capable of but seldom offered.
She looked at him with unmistakable delight. "You've been hiding that laugh all evening." "And I like it."
Something in his chest tightened. He couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him with such uncomplicated warmth. There was no expectation in her eyes.
The moment lingered, soft, suspended, until a familiar voice cut through it.
âWell,â Mor drawled, appearing at the edge of their table with a knowing smile, âI hate to interrupt whatever this is.â
Azriel didnât look away from her. He didnât need to, the faint tightening in his shoulders giving him away.
Morâs gaze flicked between them, amusement sharpening. âWeâre heading out,â she continued, as if she hadnât just stepped directly into something delicate. âCassianâs already arguing with the bartender about one last round, and Rhys is pretending he isnât enjoying it.â
A pause.
Then her eyes landed fully on her. âAnd I was wonderingâŚâ Morâs smile turned just a touch bolder. âWould you like to come with us?â
Azriel finally looked at Mor then. A subtle but unmistakable warning in his eyes.
Mor only lifted a brow in response, utterly unbothered. âWhat?â she said lightly. âYou don't look particularly ready to say goodbye just yet.â
Azrielâs gaze shifted to her, quiet and searching. A question without words. She understood it immediately. A small nod. âOkay,â she said softly.
The decision seemed to ripple through the table at once. Morâs grin widened like sheâd been waiting for exactly that answer. âPerfect,â she said brightly. âThen letâs get you out of here before Cassian actually convinces the bartender to start a second round of bad decisions.â
Cassian, from somewhere across the room, shouted in protest. Rhysand only laughed.
Within minutes, the group began to gather their things, chairs scraping softly, coats being pulled on, the easy chaos of friends who had done this a hundred times before. Azriel stayed close to her side the entire time, a quiet, steady presence that made it impossible to feel anything but anchored.
When she spotted Elia and Daphne near the edge of the room, she slipped away for a moment.
âIâll be right back,â she murmured to Azriel. He gave a slight nod, shadows curling once at her departure before settling again.
Elia was the first to notice her, eyes lighting up immediately. âWell, well,â she teased, leaning an elbow on the table. âLook who finally decided to rejoin the living.â
Daphneâs grin was just as sharp. âWe were beginning to think youâd been stolen away.âÂ
âI-â she started, then huffed a small laugh. âI just got distracted.â
âOh, we noticed,â Elia said, glancing pointedly over her shoulder toward Azriel.
Daphne leaned in conspiratorially. âHe looks like heâs been distracted for a while too.â
Heat rose to her cheeks. âStop it,â she muttered, though there was no real bite to it.
Elia only smiled softer then, bumping her shoulder gently. âGo on, then. Donât keep him waiting.â
Daphne waved her off with a mock shooing motion. âAnd try not to break anything important on your way out.â
âI make no promises,â she called back over her shoulder, earning a chorus of laughter as she returned to Azriel.
He was already waiting. As if heâd never moved.
The others were gathered near the exit now, the night winding down around them. Mor gave her a final knowing look as they passed through the doors of Ritaâs, the cool night air washing over them in a quiet wave.
Outside, the city stretched around them in soft, glowing lines of light and shadow.
The group began to disperse with easy goodbyes - Cassian still arguing about something entirely unimportant, Rhysand and Feyre already half-turned toward Velarisâ rooftops.
Azriel stepped slightly closer to her and lifted his hand. A silent question. She didnât hesitate and took his hand. The world shifted. Wind, light, and shadow folding in on itself - and then unfolding again.
The noise of the city vanished. Cool stone and open air replaced it. The House of Wind balcony stretched out beneath them, high above Velaris, the city glittering like scattered stars below.
Azriel released her gently, though he didnât step away. Not even a little. đ¤đ ཟđ°ââ By the time the city had fallen quiet, they'd shared a pot of tea in the House of Wind's kitchen with Mor and Cassian, who had spent far more time exchanging knowing glances than actually drinking it.
Mor had eventually risen with a theatrical sigh. "I suppose we'll leave you two."
Cassian had looked between them, grinning. "You know," he'd said, stretching as he stood, "the sunrise is beautiful from Az's balcony."
"Cassian," Mor had warned.
"What? I'm encouraging appreciation of nature."
Azriel had pinched the bridge of his nose. "They're impossible," he'd muttered.
"They seem to enjoy it."
"They do."
When Mor winked at her on the way out, she'd laughed so hard she nearly spilled her tea.
A few seconds later, the kitchen had fallen quiet. Azriel had cleared his throat. "I know a place with a better view." He grinned.
She'd looked up.
"My balcony."
A beat. Then she laughed. "Really?"
"It's just..." He'd glanced toward the windows overlooking Velaris. "It's a nice spot to talk a little more."
She'd smiled at the faint blush on his cheeks. "I'd like that."
đ¤đ ཟđ°ââ
Hours later, they were still talking. Or at least⌠they tried to.
Conversation had become something wonderfully inconsistent. She would tell a story, only for it to dissolve into a comfortable silence as he looked at her a little too long. He would start explaining something about the constellations above Velaris, and she'd find herself distracted by the way the moonlight caught in his eyes.
Somewhere between discussing childhood memories, favorite places in the city, and whether cinnamon rolls counted as breakfast, they'd discovered that every conversation eventually gave way to another kiss. Stolen moments between conversations. As though neither of them could quite help themselves.
She'd begun to lose track of who started them. Sometimes she'd glance at him and find him already looking at her. Sometimes he'd pause halfway through a sentence because she'd smiled. Sometimes there was no reason at all.
Just the quiet certainty that another kiss felt as natural as finishing a thought. Eventually she'd laughed into one of them, making them both pull back.
"What?"
"You forgot what you were saying."
He frowned thoughtfully. "I did."
"You were explaining something."
"I was."
She waited. "So?"
"I don't remember."
She laughed again. "I think that's my fault."
"I think you're right." His smile had become easier over the course of the night. Freer. She wondered whether anyone else noticed how much it transformed him.
She let herself take in the absurdity of it for half a second. She was in his lap, on a chair heâd dragged out onto his balcony, the city of Velaris glittering below them like it had the decency to pretend it wasnât witnessing this.
And sheâd completely lost track of time. Lost track of everything, really. He didnât seem to be doing much better.
She kissed him again before she could think too hard about it, the conversation theyâd been having dissolving into something far less coherent. One of his hands slid up her leg as the kiss deepened, his touch slow and deliberate, like he was testing how much she could take before she broke.
She answered him with a soft sweep of her tongue against his lower lip.
He let her in immediately. His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, while the other hand continued its unhurried path up her leg, as if he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it.
Something in her snapped - quietly, decisively. She broke the kiss just long enough to shift, moving with a confidence she didnât bother questioning, until she was straddling him properly.
His breath hitched. He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes darkened and filled with desire, lips parted and slightly swollen from her. âYouâve been driving me crazy all night,â he murmured, already leaning in again like he couldnât help himself. âYou have no idea what youâre doing to me.â His words brushed against her mouth as he spoke, and she felt them more than she heard them.
That did something to her. She glanced at him, at the way he looked at her like she was the only thing anchoring him to anything at all. âWhy donât you show me,â she whispered.
That was all it took. Azriel didnât hesitate. His kiss turned sharper, hungrier, less restrained, like whatever control heâd been holding onto had finally slipped through his fingers. He stood with her in his arms as if she weighed nothing, not breaking the kiss once as he moved them inside.
Her legs found his waist almost without thinking, holding on as he carried her through the doorway.
The room was dark save for the first hints of dawn spilling through the open balcony doors. Cool morning air drifted inside, carrying the scent of jasmine from the gardens below, but it barely reached him. He lowered her onto the bed with a care that felt entirely at odds with the urgency building between them. Even then, he didn't rush.
His hands lingered at her waist for a heartbeat, searching her face instead of reaching for more. A silent question.
She answered by slipping her fingers into his hair and drawing him back to her. The kiss stole what little restraint he had left. A quiet sound escaped her as he settled against her, soft enough that he almost wondered if he'd imagined it.
He hadn't. His breath caught. Gods. He wanted to hear it again.
He trailed slow kisses along the line of her jaw, unhurried, letting his lips linger against the warmth of her skin until he found the place just beneath her ear. The moment his mouth brushed there, her breath caught. A soft, involuntary whine slipped past her lips.
He stilled for the briefest heartbeat.
His scarred hand tightened almost imperceptibly at her waist before he kissed the spot again, more carefully this time, committing every tiny reaction to memory. Every shaky breath. Every quiet sound she couldn't seem to hold back.
"Az..." she whispered, his name dissolving against the silence of the room.
The sound settled somewhere deep in his chest.
Gods.
He'd heard his name spoken countless times over the centuries, but never like that. His cock strained painfully against his pants. "I know," he murmured, the words barely more than a breath against her skin.
He pressed another lingering kiss beneath her ear before drawing back just enough to meet her eyes. His fingers found the delicate silk resting on her shoulders. Slowly, giving her every chance to stop him, he eased the straps down. The fabric whispered over her skin before pooling at her arms, her breasts spilling out.
His breath caught. The cool morning air drifted through the open balcony doors, brushing over her bare skin. She shivered, a quiet breath escaping her lips, and he couldn't tell whether it was the breeze or the way he was looking at her.
Beautiful. The thought came so suddenly it stole every other word from him. His scarred hand skimmed lightly along her side, slow enough that he felt the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. She leaned instinctively into the touch, her breath hitching again.
His gaze lifted to hers. "Still alright?" he asked quietly.
She answered with a small nod before reaching for him again, her fingers curling into the back of his neck and drawing him closer.
That was all the permission he needed.
He lowered his head, pressing a lingering kiss against the underside of her breast. She arched into him with a soft, involuntary sigh, and a low sound escaped his own chest before he could stop it.
Gods. She was undoing him far more thoroughly than she could possibly know. The sound he made seemed to loosen her last thread. Her hands found the back of his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons before giving up entirely and gripping the fabric instead. She laughed softly at her own impatience. "This is your fault," she murmured.
A rare smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I know."
His wings shifted behind him, forcing him to pause. With an almost embarrassed huff of laughter, he slipped the remaining buttons free around them before shrugging the shirt from his shoulders.
She didn't look away. Not for a second. Her gaze wandered over the planes of his chest, the scars crossing his skin, before returning to his face.
One curious shadow drifted between them, brushing lightly against the silk gathered at her arms. Another joined it, and together they coaxed the fabric lower with almost playful patience.
She let out a surprised laugh as the cool wisps skimmed over her skin.
The silk slipped free at last, settling in a soft heap beside the bed. His shadows lingered only long enough to make certain she was comfortable before moving towards her lace panties, pulling them down her legs with the same curiosity they'd shown all evening before retreating to his back.
Azriel's gaze found her once more. He'd spent centuries mastering discipline. It deserted him with alarming ease whenever he looked at her. For a long moment, neither of them moved. They simply looked at one another, as though trying to memorize the person in front of them before the night slipped away with the dawn. He finished undressing with none of the confidence he'd carried through the rest of the evening. If anything, he seemed almost self-conscious beneath her gaze, as though centuries of composure had deserted him somewhere between the balcony and the bedroom. He immediately gripped the base of his cock out of habit, pumping once. Twice.
She simply looked at him, breathing quickening. The breadth of his shoulders, the scars etched across skin that told stories she couldn't begin to imagine, the powerful lines of him softened only by the uncertainty in his eyes as they searched her face, his hand wrapped around himself. She rubbed her thighs together in response.
He was Godlike. The thought arrived before she could stop it.
His breath caught when he realized she wasn't looking away. She smiled, slow and unguarded. "So..." Her eyes met his again, warmth dancing in them. "That's what you've been hiding from me all night?"
The words startled a quiet laugh out of him. It was brief, almost disbelieving. One corner of his mouth lifted as he shook his head. He closed the distance between them once more, bracing himself carefully over her, his forehead brushing hers for the briefest moment before he found her lips again.
"Where'd all that confidence come from?" He teased back before capturing her lips in another kiss. He hissed as his cock made contact with her slick. She impatiently started bucking her hips. "Easy." He murmured. He slowly started pressing kisses down her body again, licking her nipples along the way and teasingly sucking just above where she needed him. She moaned out desperately. He chuckled, and then promptly buried his face in-between her legs. The sound she let out was pornographic, and for a second he worried about the others in the house. But then she squeezed her thighs around his head, and he forgot all about them. She tasted like strawberries and sin, and he couldn't help the groans escaping him. "Az- please, need more." She wove her hand into his hair, and he took a brief pause from devouring her to take her in. She was perched on one elbow, looking down at him with big, wild eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess and a thin layer of sweat lay above her brow. He slowly moved his hand up her inner thigh, earning a small encouraging sound from her. When he entered a single digit into her, his eyes shut. She clenched down on his finger, and he could only imagine how she would feel wrapped around him. He could feel her nearing her high. He sucked harshly on her clit, letting it go with a loud sucking noise. "That's it." A pause. Another quiet, almost disbelieving breath came from him. "DevineâŚ" Another suck. "You undo me." Me mumbled against her sex. Her head was swirling, she didn't know where to look, where to grab. She felt herself sprinting towards euphoria. He reattached his mouth to her clit and started a pace of hard quick strokes with his tongue. Her orgasm overwhelmed her. She cried out his name and Azriel swore he never wanted anyone else to breathe his name ever again. She let her body fall back against the pillows, hips jerking involuntarily as she felt wave after wave of pleasure overcome her. He let her ride out her high, before pressing a final kiss to both of her thighs and moving his body back up, pressing his mouth back to hers. She felt his cock move against her belly button and moved her hand down his back towards his front. His breath hitched as her hand found him. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat. "Fuck." The word escaped him before he could stop it. She moaned sofly, wiggling underneath him so she could drag him through her slit, grinning at the way Azriel's breath hitched. "Why don't you do something about that?" She teased, moving her head slightly back so she could look at him. He almost looked like he was in pain, eyes watery and mouth still shimmering from the mess he made between her legs. His brows were slightly furrowed and his lips apart, small breaths coming from them and crashing against her mouth in warm waves. He unwrapped her hand from him, instead pulling it over her head and intertwining her hand with his. "Gladly." He grinned. He sat back on his knees to take her in for a moment. She looked gorgeous like this, spread open wide for him, slick running from her hole onto his sheets. They would smell like her for days. Azriel didn't mind that thought one bit. He moved slightly forward so that the tip of his cock nudged her entrance. He leaned forward again, opting to look her in the eyes as he slowly pushed inside. He drew back every now and then, just to slide in a little further every time. Once he was fully seated inside her, he let his head fall into her neck. "Fuck..." He groaned. "I can't- I can't hold back." He panted. She didn't respond, she only tightened her legs around his hips, urging him even deeper. "I don't want you to." The quiet certainty in her voice unraveled what little composure he still possessed. He moved again, slower this time, giving them both a heartbeat to adjust before finding a rhythm that felt as instinctive as breathing.
A low, involuntary groan escaped him. He'd tried not to imagine this. Not on the balcony. Not while she'd been laughing over tea. Not while she'd smiled at him across the table in Rita's.
Nothing had prepared him for the reality of her. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, every measured breath threatening to come undone as she met each movement with one of her own. She wasn't simply following him - she was with him, closing every bit of distance he tried to create.
His forehead found her shoulder. Another quiet, disbelieving breath left him.
When he finally lifted his head, he looked at her as though seeing her all over again. She was watching him with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, her hair spread across the pillows beneath her. Soft moans escaping her lips. He couldn't stop looking at her, listening to her, breathing her.
His hands settled gently at her waist, his thumbs pushing into her skin as if reassuring himself she was really there. Every small reaction she gave him, every hitch of her breath, every subtle shift toward him, only deepened the wonder settling in his chest. His pace quickened, and she cried out his name.
He found himself committing it all to memory. Every expression. Every laugh from earlier that still echoed in his mind. Every glance she'd stolen across Rita's. He wanted to remember this version of her, too. All of it.
The sound of her voice undid him some more.
One of his shadows drifted into the edge of his vision, lingering uncertainly beside them. It hesitated, almost asking. Azriel gave the smallest nod.
The shadow responded, brushing against her swollen clit with featherlight care. She gasped, her body tensing before melting back into him.
His forehead fell against hers. "Gods..." he breathed, the word more prayer than curse.
He kissed her then. Not carefully, his tongue messily entering her mouth. Every kiss stolen between breaths, every inhale shared, every touch speaking for the words he'd long since forgotten. When he pulled back a line of spit from his mouth connected to hers.
He felt her unravel before he saw it. The rhythm she'd matched so effortlessly faltered. Her fingernails dug into his back. She buried her face against his shoulder with a broken little sound that seemed to travel straight through him. He held her through it, murmuring her name against her skin as though it were the only thing he knew how to say.
The sound of it on his lips seemed to push him over the edge. His own release followed close behind, a quiet groan escaping him as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, holding her as if letting go wasn't an option.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Only the steady rise and fall of their breathing filled the room, Azriel still slowly moving in and out of her even though he had nothing left to give.
The first rays of morning had begun to spill across the wooden floor, painting soft ribbons of gold through the open balcony doors. Eventually, Azriel rolled onto his side, never straying far enough to lose contact with her. She was already looking at him.
A slow, tired smile spread across her face. He answered with one of his own, that rare, unguarded smile she'd spent the entire night coaxing from him.
Neither of them spoke.
After the night that had passed between them, words somehow felt far too small.
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They lay beside each other silently, save for the distant sounds of Velaris slowly waking below the balcony and the steady rhythm of her breathing beside him.
She was still smiling, sleepily, contentedly. Azriel wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything more beautiful. Carefully, so carefully she barely stirred, he slipped from the bed. One of his shadows followed him toward the adjoining bathing room, returning moments later carrying a warm, damp cloth. Another hovered nearby, almost proudly, before disappearing again.
He couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at his mouth. "Show-offs," he murmured.
They ignored him. When he returned, she blinked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
"Come here." There was no command in it, only quiet gentleness.
She shifted closer without question. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear before taking the cloth, his scarred hands impossibly gentle as he cleaned away the traces of the night they'd shared. She watched him the entire time, hissing when he went over particularly sensitive spots. "You don't have to do that."
"I know." His eyes lifted to hers.
Something softened in her expression.
When he finished, he set the cloth aside and reached automatically for the blankets, pulling them over her before climbing back into bed beside her.
She curled against him almost immediately, resting her head beneath his chin as though she'd done it a hundred times before. His arms found their place around her without thinking.
Outside, the first true rays of sunlight spilled across the bedroom floor. He stared at them for a long while. Then cleared his throat.
She tipped her head back to look at him. There was something almost endearing about the uncertainty on the Shadowsinger's face. "I..." He looked away for the briefest moment before meeting her eyes again. "You don't have to go."
She smiled. "I wasn't planning to."
Relief washed over him so quickly it almost made him laugh. He shook his head. "That's not what I meant."
"No?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking remarkably unlike the male who could face monsters and torture people.
"I was wondering..." His voice was quieter now. "If you'd stay."
Her smile grew impossibly softer.
"Maybe we can have lunch after we get some sleep." His cheeks warmed.
She chuckled, the sound light enough to make one of his shadows peek curiously out from the corner of the room. "I'd love that."
He searched her face for a heartbeat, as though making sure she truly meant it. Then one of those rare smiles spread across his face.
She reached up, pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, and settled back against his chest. Within minutes, her breathing evened into sleep.
Azriel remained awake a little longer, one hand absently tracing slow circles against her back while his shadows settled quietly around the room. For the first time in longer than he could remember, the House felt less empty.
Eventually, sleep found him too.
He was still holding her when he woke up.
Reposting so I donât lose â¤ď¸
