Az knew he had the capacity to be cruel, deep down, underneath where he believed his morals lay. A part of him believed that kindness was a weakness, but mostly for himself, especially when he wanted to foster the kindness he could never afford in himself in his own sister. Even he knew, however, that there was a level that even he wouldn't have stooped to that the prior King ventured often. "So people keep saying, but it's never that easy to wrap my head around." It was hard for him to forget how close Envy came to forcing Kai to kill him in the front yard of his farmhouse-turned-battlefield between them and two of Hell's princes. Then Gianna signed her life over to save them. Envy had forced his crown onto his sister, left her broken later, yet he's supposed to believe that Envy is finally on the straight and narrow after falling off so many times before. The witch could only nod his assent, knowing that there was at least a part of him that would celebrate having the autonomy over his soul back. Even if Azriel believed his soul had already been condemned in the eyes of God the moment his brother died because of him. There shouldn't have been nerves at the simple transaction of gaining his soul back through something as simple as a kiss when he and the Prince had done much more than that, though it was different. They weren't supposed to be together anymore, yet his hand wrapped around Lust's wrist the moment the other's hand made contact with his skin. Purely to control the narrative, or so he told himself. Anything to explain away the complicated mess of feelings that were always underneath the surface of his skin when he was near Lust. It was so easy to lose himself in the motions, his tongue entering the complex dance with Lust's as he felt the warmth of his own jaded soul return to his body– the pressure of it snicking back into place, causing him to groan lightly. Even after the transfer was done, the witch didn't push the Prince away as he thought he would have, opening his eyes to realize that he was leaning into the other closer, space nearly non-existent, his hand that wasn't already resting on some point of Lust's body now resting against the Prince's neck just beneath his jawline. "Breaking a promise is a bad idea, right?" Azriel's fingers flexed against Lust's skin, as if he were trying to pry himself away, but his body wasn't listening. "I've had worse ideas," he finally murmured, answering his rhetorical question as his hand moved to the nape of Lust's neck, bringing his lips to his once more.
