Summary: No one expected you to understand fae customs just yet—much less Illyrian customs. So maybe Azriel should have made his intentions a little more obvious. He began to understand that mistake as you began to pull away.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Biggest miscommunication trope lol, angst, pining!, idiots in love, Archeron!Reader but really only that she was human and now fae
a/n: I can't believe I actually wrote something finally lol thank you for reading if you're heree <3 This is such a fun trope to read I love it please enjoyyy! (part 2 coming)
Read part two here!
Main Masterlist ♡
~~
You slumped back into your seat, arms crossed over your stomach in a show of frustration you would rather hide. Sometimes, it was easy to pretend you weren’t falling in love with Azriel in a pathetic way. Today was not one of those days.
The Shadowsinger had his head tipped back in a laugh, cheeks tinged a subtle pink as Mor recounted something you couldn’t hear. Well, you could, your new fae ears tuned to every sound, but you’d learned how to block out what you didn’t want. Sound had been the most disorienting sense after you’d been Made, but Azriel had done well in teaching you to hone it.
You wished he had taught you how to tamp down your emotions as well; immortality in the face of longing and jealousy was looking bleak.
Clutching your wine glass in twitching fingers, you directed your attention to Feyre and the babbling Illyrian babe in her lap. Things always seemed so effortless for her in this world, but that wasn’t true, and you knew it. Still, you found yourself envying her mateship and the ease with which love found her. It may have been a journey, but Rhys was clear with his intentions, and the mating bond cemented that.
Even Nesta, harsh and unrelenting as she was, had a sure bond that she could rely on. And then there was Elain, finding her way with Lucien in minute acts that all meant something to both of them. You had tried to chalk your feelings for Azriel up to jealousy or seeking a partner in a paired-up family, but those were surface-level excuses. The way your heart raced in his presence, the spark that lit up your skin each time you touched—those were not symptoms of pure loneliness.
But you were sure he would think it was desperation if you pursued him. He was the only single male out of the fae you knew, and you knew so few people in this world. If you started professing your love for him, waxing poetic about the simple way he smiled, you knew the pitying look of rejection would come soon after. He would wince slightly and run his hand along the side of your head as he so often did, and then he would say that he didn’t see you that way. That you were new and unexciting and a responsibility above all else—his High Lady’s sister that needed help adjusting to life as fae.
He hadn’t exactly shown interest in you. He had been kind and attentive and bordering on adoring, but that was just how he treated his family. You’d seen it. You were not going to be the pathetic little thing chasing after him in the wake of a war. Things were at peace now, and he didn’t need to be bogged down with the toll of rejecting you.
Still, you sighed as you watched him enjoy his night. You bit the inside of your cheek and choked down another glass of the fae wine you could barely stomach. Your sisters asked you questions about your training with Madja, and you answered them, allowing the ring on your pinky to dig into the skin of your palm. When Azriel had given it to you, sliding it onto your smallest finger, you had been elated, feeling light and dizzy with affection. You felt foolish wearing it now.
You couldn’t take it off. Azriel seemed to look for it whenever he saw you, eyes going from your face to your hands as if on instinct. He would touch it sometimes—when he flew you over the city or took things from your hands to carry instead. You would feel his thumb brush the metal embossed with twines of azure stone and think something was there, but then he would offer you a polite smile and simply walk beside you. He would blush and laugh with Mor, but he would only smile with you.
Pity. It was pity, surely.
You had clung to him for weeks after being Made. Something about him brought you comfort in a newly abrasive world, so he allowed you to follow him around and you accepted his touches with greed. It had all been ordered. Rhys had surely ordered his Spymaster to ensure his mate’s sister was properly cared for, but you hadn’t been thinking about the implications at the time, pathetically seeking him out under the pretense of a genuine connection. And sure, Azriel was not cruel. He thought of you as family and cared for you as such. But your feelings were yours alone.
“Shall I take you back? Or would you like to sleep here?”
You startled at the sound of his voice, Azriel suddenly at the back of your chair. The room had dimmed in conversation, with Rhys and Feyre gone to put Nyx to bed and Mor only muttering short sentences in low tones that had Cassian nodding in agreement. Elain had all but vanished from the table, and Nesta was facing the fire to capture its warmth. You had missed the shift as your thoughts ran rampant.
Your chair creaked as Azriel leaned against it, mouth closer to your ear. “Are you alright?”
You blinked and tilted your head slightly to show you were attentive to his words. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Azriel hummed. “So would you like to stay?”
Staying at the Riverhouse would mean distance from Azriel. And you could walk to the clinic in the morning rather than depending on him to fly you down. That was good.
“Yes. That would be best.”
“I’ll walk you back then.”
He always walked you to your room—all the way there. He never came in, always content to stop at the door, but he never did anything less. Even now, when he would leave for his own room at the House miles away, he was offering to take you down the hall. It was too much. You’d become too much.
“That’s okay,” you breathed out, finally turning your head to look at him. Your faces were only inches apart, and you had to catch your breath at the closeness. “I’ll find my way.”
Something unusual flashed across his expression, quickly righted with a soft smile. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s just down the hall, Azriel. I doubt I’ll get lost.”
He blinked, looking between your eyes before clearing his throat slightly and standing straight. You used the opportunity to push out from the table, trying to ignore his guiding hands. “Right, of course,” he nodded. He looked lost for a moment, standing before you. His wings twitched as you looked over his shoulder to the joining hall. “I’ll—goodnight, then. Sleep well.”
“Goodnight, Azriel.”
~~
Distancing yourself from Azriel after your dinner revelation was not an easy task. You hadn’t realized how much you’d intertwined your life with his, and the realization was enough to make you cringe. He was a whole person with a life before you, and now you were reliant on him for so many things.
So, you tried to make your own way. You stopped asking to stay at the House so you could walk wherever you needed. You asked passersby for directions instead of waiting for Azriel to tell you where shops and restaurants were located. You even tried making friends, talking more with the patrons of the clinic to… be more independent—separate, even, from Azriel and your newly grown family.
You figured he would appreciate the effort. He was probably so tired of guiding you everywhere, of keeping polite smiles on his face as you droned on about your new life and let him fly you around Velaris. And he probably loved that he finally got his overcoat back. He had let you borrow it several weeks ago, placing the Illyrian-forged threads over your shoulders when you asked him to go flying in the middle of the night.
He had told you how much it meant to him that night as he buttoned it up to your neck. His mother had hand-woven it when he came of age, he had told you, and he had saved it ever since. You might not have understood why a coat was of so much importance, but you understood that you were hogging it. That he had let you borrow it on a cold night, and then you had practically commandeered his prize possession. He always insisted you wear it when he would fly you around, but he was just being polite.
The thought grated on you.
“What?” Azriel asked, mouth slightly agape as you gently placed the coat in his stiff hands.
“I—Thank you for letting me borrow it for so long. I should have returned it ages ago. I was being greedy with it,” you tried to joke, pressing it further into his grasp.
Azriel remained frozen. His eyes flicked down to the material now in his hands and then back up to you. “I don’t—I don’t think I understand. You don’t like it?”
A flash of confusion struck you, but maybe he assumed you weren’t going to give it back? “What? No, Azriel, it’s a wonderful coat. Honestly, the softest, warmest thing I’ve ever put on. I just… I know it’s important to you. I’ll wear my own when I need you to take me somewhere. Although I think I’ve been doing well getting around by myself. I’ve been trying to learn Velaris’ layout, and I think I almost got it.”
Azriel finally moved, curling the coat closer to his chest. He wet his lips before shooting his gaze down to your hands. Finding some semblance of an answer there, he nodded once, mostly to himself. “I’ve noticed that. Have you enjoyed exploring the city?”
No. You enjoyed exploring it with him. “Yes, very much. The people of Velaris are very helpful with directions.”
Azriel hummed, rubbing his fingers along the sleeve of the coat. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. I’ll look forward to you enjoying flying again, though.”
“Yes, well, I never stopped enjoying that. I’ll try to space it out more, though—maybe get Cassian or Rhys to lug me around every once in a while.”
“Why?”
An unmistakable inflection of hurt trailed in his tone. Wonderful, now you were offending him. “Oh! Well, just to take some of that off of you. I know you’re very busy, and I’ve needed a lot of help for a long while.”
“Take…what off of me?” he asked, words slow and lingering.
“Um, the responsibility? Again, I know how busy you are. And I know it’s taken me a while to adjust, but I think I've got it now. At least, I’ve got it more than I used to,” you tried joking again, a dry laugh rocking you back on your heels.
“Responsibility,” Azriel repeated.
“Right,” you affirmed. “Now you can spend more time on other things.”
“Such as?”
You clicked your tongue, glancing up at the ceiling as if there were answers there. “I don’t know. What did you do before I was around?”
Azriel’s brows came together. He shook his head slightly as if you were partially insane. “I don’t think… I didn’t think you wanted to talk about that yet.”
Maybe you were partially insane. You thought you were having one conversation, but it seemed Azriel was having another. What did that mean? Maybe his life was far easier before you started forcing him into tasks and stealing his clothes? And you weren’t ready just yet to hear that? He really thought you were unstable then.
You laughed, despite that thought, brushing a hand through the air casually. “Come on, Az. You obviously had a life before me. Multiple lives, if we go on human terms. I’m sure you had several hobbies that didn’t include taking me places.”
And now he looked uncomfortable. Azriel folded his coat onto his arm, and his mouth twisted before he let out a sigh. “There were pleasure houses, obviously. A few relationships, although they do not seem important in the slightest now.”
You choked on air, clearing your throat as Azriel itched his jaw and looked up at the ceiling himself. Nothing was up there, but both of you were sure looking. “Oh,” you squeaked out.
“The relationships are in the distant past. The—well, the casual things are more recent, though nothing after I met you, obviously.”
Your mind was doing flips, bashing jarringly against your skull as Azriel looked at you with an almost concerned discomfort. When you said hobbies, you thought he would share that he used to train more or had a secret joy for puzzles. You had not expected a brief overview of his sexual partners, but Azriel looked about ready to give you a list if you asked. To dive deeper into the topic you were about to melt into a puddle over.
This was what you were really holding him back from, then.
He wanted to go to pleasure houses, but you were taking up all of that time.
When you remained silent, Azriel shifted his weight between his feet. “I know things were different for you. You were human. I’ve learned of the demands and expectations of human women, so that’s why we’ve been going slo—”
Your ears were ringing as he spoke. You clutched your hands together and interrupted him. “Right, yes, different for humans. And not alive as long, obviously. Less time for hobbies.”
“I don’t mind. I don’t care about that,” he offered slowly. You weren’t even sure what he was talking about. Another beat of silence, and then, in the most usure voice you had heard from him, Azriel asked, “Is that okay?”
Was it okay for him to go back to pleasure houses? To seek out intimacy? Who were you to decide that for him?
“Of course,” you blinked, raising a hand to your forehead. “I’m—I’m going to go rest, I think. Long day.”
“Alright,” Azriel simply replied, left standing in the hall.
~~
You missed him, which was terribly awful in the worst ways.
Not only had he made it abundantly clear that he was setting his sights on other women, but he was being extra nice now, probably fearing for the worst now that you were aware he was going to be spending his newfound time… doing other things.
He asked you to accompany him to dinner every night this week. You turned him down each time, but he still asked, a casual hope ringing in his words. He arrived at the Riverhouse every morning, ready to walk you to the clinic even though you assured him you were okay to go alone. He didn’t bring his coat back, but he grabbed your own from the closet by the door and had it open for you on each of those mornings.
And his wings were doing strange things. When you would come to the door, he would spread them just a few inches wider, seeking your eyes as they roved over the exposed veins. He opened them behind you as you walked, almost ushering you closer to him on the streets of Velaris. They seemed to ruffle when he sat beside you at dinner, in the sitting room, when he caught you reading and joined you on the couch. It was almost imperceptible, but the sound was becoming soothing, and that was dangerous.
You were reading too much into things, acting crazy again, and so, you distanced yourself more when you started to notice the patterns. And then you missed him because of it.
He noticed. You were sure he noticed. You could only turn him down so many times before he began to question the change.
“Have I done something wrong?” he asked after two weeks of your eyes flitting away from him.
“What? Of course not.”
“You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not.”
Azriel took you by surprise then, kneeling by the chair you were nestled into. “You are. Tell me what I did.”
Such a picture of devotion made you squirm. You unraveled your legs from under you and sat eye-level with the Shadowsinger’s form. “Nothing, Az. Remember, I told you I was trying to be more self-sufficient. Give you more time back.”
“Is this because of our conversation a few weeks ago? Because I only told you because it’s important to understand my history as my—”
You quickly shook your head, not wanting another recount of his love life. Not when you weren’t part of it. “Nothing like that, I swear.”
Cassian chose that moment to enter the small library, a decision that was both your downfall and eventual salvation, as time would reveal.
“Nothing,” you quipped, feeling Azriel’s eyes still glued to your face as it heated and turned to Cassian. “What are you doing here? Feyre said you were at the camps until next week.”
“Yeah, well, got sick of the camps,” he replied, brow raised when Azriel reluctantly rose from the ground and stiffly turned.
“Glad you’re back then.”
“Thanks for the warm welcome, sweetheart.” Cassian kicked back into a far chair, the air still heavy. “Anyone have plans tonight? I feel like going out.”
Azriel cleared his throat, fingers flexing with shadows that twined between them. “I believe Mor is going to Rita’s. But I have… business tonight.”
“Business, huh?” Cassian smirked, flicking his gaze over to you in a quick motion.
“Cassian,” Azriel warned, but it was too late. Something ugly and hot gripped your throat, making it impossible to swallow.
This was it. This was what you wanted. He was finally free from you, and his words tonight were only a semblance of guilt for leaving you when you asked him to. But it wasn’t fair to hold him in your grasp when he didn’t want to be there. When you were a duty to him.
He needed to know that it was okay to move on from the responsibility of you, so you steeled yourself and swallowed down the searing pain in your chest that felt like it was yanking at you when you were resolute in your next words.
“Sorry, Cass, I’m not free either. I’m going on a date.”
Summary - Feyre was a High Lady. Nesta was a Valkyrie. Elain was a Seer.
And she was the sister the Cauldron ruined and forgot.
Invisible in a family of legends, haunted by nightmares no one noticed, she learned to stay quiet... to expect nothing.
Except Azriel noticed. The Shadowsinger who never spoke too much saw everything—her pain, her loneliness... and the bond between them she didn't even know existed.
When the world decides she is the easiest one to break—Azriel will make them suffer for it.
A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.
This is my very first Archeron sister fic! For the sake of the story, I've had to make the sisters a little harsh at times but that's purely for plot reasons, not an invitation to throw shade at them x
Expect healing, found family vibes, and basically an overlooked girl x quiet boy kind of story. There will be heartbreak, angst and eventually fluff :)
Please don't hesitate to vote or comment along the way, it truly means the world to me <3
azriel x reader
summary: reader had been sent on a mission on the continent for weeks, and was going to miss this year’s solstice celebration. rhysand decided that the only way to cure a brooding azriel was a surprise visit home from his mate.
wc: 2.4k
The Inner Circle knew Azriel well enough to tell that he was brooding. On a regular day, most people mistook the spymaster's usual silence for agitation, but his family knew that he simply preferred to listen. His behaviour for the last six weeks however - this had become incessant brooding.
The first two weeks you were gone, he was tolerable. Given your positions in the court, both of you were used to being sent away for brief trips that separated you. You had learned how to cope with small lengths of time away from each other. He had gone about his days as usual; training in the morning with Cassian, and checking in with his spies in the afternoon for any new information.
The next three weeks, he was on edge. It wasn’t uncommon for a mission to stretch on for a month, but the distance definitely wasn’t comfortable. By this point, Azriel had resorted to keeping himself occupied at any given moment - he stayed out all day, and drank at night to keep himself from dwelling on how much he missed having you by his side. It snowed plenty in those weeks, and he had to stop himself from scowling in your absence each time he remembered the way you would light up at the sight of the snow falling outside your window.
By the sixth week, the Inner Circle knew to tread lightly around the male. Everyone around him was abuzz at the spirit of solstice, but the shadowsinger had no holiday spirit. You wouldn’t be returning until just before the new year, and he didn’t feel very festive without you. Mor would ask him what he wanted as a solstice gift, and he simply huffed in response. His brothers had endless smack talk, taunting each other over who would win this year’s snowball fight, but the male stayed silent - he didn’t care about the outcome because he wouldn’t have you there to celebrate his victory.
Azriel did what he could to not put a damper on everyone else’s solstice spirit - he helped decorate the river house to make sure everything was orderly, he bought everyone gifts, and made sure to get Nyx a few noisy toys that would give Rhys a headache. On solstice morning, he got up with his brothers to participate in the annual snowball fight, and he put in as much effort as he could muster. He did enough to put a smile on his family’s faces, but he wasn’t fully present. He wouldn’t be, unless you were there with him.
As evening arrived, the entire family gathered at the river house to eat dinner together, celebrate Feyre’s birthday, and open presents. The group had chosen to open presents first this year - Nyx couldn’t stay awake long enough, so they decided to get the gifts out of the way and enjoy an adult-only dinner when he had been put to bed.
Everyone wanted to see Nyx’s reaction to his gifts, so he opened them first while the others watched. The toddler giggled at the sound of wrapping paper being opened, and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face at the child’s glee. You might not have been there, but his heart still felt warm being with the rest of his family. The happiness in the room was contagious, and despite the shadows skittering restlessly around the room, he felt at peace with his family around him.
Rhys shot Azriel an annoyed look as Nyx opened up his final gift; a child’s drum kit that the shadowsinger had purchased with the sole intention of pissing off his brother. Feyre also looked weary as she looked at her son, who was already causing a ruckus with his new toy.
“And to think I got you the best gift you could have asked for, and you punish me with this,” Rhys joked, exasperation in his voice.
Azriel raised an eyebrow. “You got me the best gift I could have asked for? That’s high praise.”
Rhys looked at his brother, a smug smile on his face. “If you can seriously think of any gift you’d like more than what I brought you, I will personally wear a tutu and go out into the streets of Velaris.”
Cassian’s eyebrows shot up at that. “Did you buy him a palace or something, how are you this confident?”
Rhys simply shrugged, to which Azriel narrowed his eyes. “Well let’s see, if you’re so sure.”
Azriel couldn’t even begin to guess what Rhys had bought him. At their age, gift giving was hard - everyone already had every material item they needed, so the holidays were filled with gag gifts, or items that ended up in a drawer unused. The only thing he wanted for solstice was you, and the day had already proven to be lacking in that area.
Rhys stood up and left the room with a mischievous smile on his face, everyone’s eyes trailing him.
“What could he possibly have gotten?” Cassian asked no one in particular, trying to think of what his brother would have wanted as a gift.
Nesta, who was pressed against Cassian’s side, looked to Feyre. “Are you in on this?”
Feyre shook her head, equally as confused as everyone else in the room. “I have no idea what he got any of you.”
Mor, on the other side of the room, crossed her arms. “Well whatever it is, he better have given this much consideration to all of our gifts, it’s no fair if Azriel gets something spectacular and the rest of us get mediocre gifts.”
The High Lord reappeared in the doorway, a small box in his hands. Considering how much Rhys had been boasting about his present, everyone looked skeptically at the size of the box.
“Are there keys to Azriel’s palace in that box?” Cassian muttered, though loud enough for everyone to hear.
Rhys passed the box to Feyre, who handed it off to Azriel, the daemati’s eyes still twinkling with mischief. The box was small and surprisingly light, with a red ribbon tied around it for some festive flair. Azriel looked down at it, mildly afraid of whatever it contained.
“Open it,” Rhys urged, leaning in the doorframe, everyone in the room watching expectantly.
Azriel finally pried his eyes away from his brother, going to untie the ribbon. He took it off gently, and opened the lid of the box to find…
“Gloves?” Mor asked, no doubt surprised that it was - frankly, a quite nice - pair of gloves inside the box. Azriel’s name was stitched into the material, but it was nowhere near the calibre of gift that everyone had begun expecting.
Azriel furrowed his eyebrows together, thinking about how they’d all be seeing Rhys in a tutu very soon. He lifted his gaze to Rhys and started to make the retort when the words died on his tongue.
While everyone had been focused on Azriel unboxing his new gloves, Rhys had moved out of the doorframe. The space where he had stood moments before was occupied by a new figure - one that had Azriel forgetting how to speak. You stood in the doorway, a big smile on your face. Your cheeks were flushed from the cold, and there was a long red ribbon tying your hair back, identical to the one that had been wrapped around his gloves. Rhys had gifted Azriel you, served to him with a bow on top.
It was as if the world outside of the two of you faded away. Azriel’s heart began racing in his chest as the two of you locked eyes and if possible, your smile grew even further.
The Illyrian barely heard his brother say “Happy Solstice”, before he had shot out of his seat and crossed the room so quickly that the others might have thought he winnowed. Within a matter of seconds, he had picked you up in a hug, his face lit up in pure joy. His shadows, which had been moving restlessly around all night finally focused, rushing towards you as quickly as their master had.
“Happy Solstice my love,” you whispered into his ear as he spun you around, and you could feel both of your hearts beating wildly in your chests as your bodies pressed against each other. Your mate finally set you down, and took your head in his hands as he examined your face. He was beaming, and took in every one of your features as if he wanted to never forget any detail about you.
“I’ve missed you more than you can even imagine,” he muttered, finally moving to place his lips on yours. The two of you kissed like two people starved, desperate to make up for time lost in the last six weeks. You had gotten so lost in your reunion that you had forgotten you were in a room filled with family until Amren cleared her throat from across the room.
“So, the brooding’s finally over.”
You peeled yourself away from Azriel, slightly embarrassed, though happier than ever to finally be with your mate once again. Surely enough, the male who usually wore a stoic face like a uniform couldn’t stop looking as if his whole world revolved around you.
“I wasn’t brooding,” he tried to defend himself, though his words contradicted his actions, given that he couldn’t peel his gaze from your face.
Nesta scoffed, “You definitely were.”
Rhys laughed. “Cut them some slack, we’d all be the same if separated from our mates.”
You and Azriel couldn’t even be bothered to nod your agreement as he took your hand and guided you back to where he had been seated. You pressed up against his side, looking at the box of gloves that were now on the floor.
“Nice gloves,” you commented, your head going to rest on Azriel’s shoulder as you took everyone in.
“I can’t tell if this means we’ll still be seeing Rhys in a tutu,” Cassian commented, eyes drifting down to the gloves again.
Your face scrunched up in confusion, having missed that earlier part of the conversation. “A tutu?”
“The gift Rhys was talking about was his wife, not the gloves, idiot,” Mor quipped, “Unless Az really can think of anything he would have wanted more.”
Azriel couldn’t deny it - Rhys was spot on. He had gotten him the one thing he wanted and nothing would beat having the one he loved in his arms after being away for so long. Although… “I can think of one thing.”
Rhys’ eyebrows shot up, and you looked towards your husband, mildly offended that he would suggest that there was something he wanted more than you. “You can?”
“Well, for her to have not left in the first place.”
You rolled your eyes, and Rhys scoffed, leaning back in his chair.
“That’s a technicality and you know it. Given the situation you were in, I got you the best possible gift.” Rhys disputed, crossing his arms with an eye roll.
Azriel smirked at his brother before placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah. Unfortunately we’re getting no ballerina Rhys this year.”
For the rest of the evening, you and Azriel were in pure bliss. As your family opened gifts, you and Azriel shared stolen kisses, your hearts alight with joy. Laughter rang out all night, as you indulged in the wine and cracked jokes with your loved ones.
During dinner you stuffed yourself with delicacies, reveling in the family mealtime that you had yearned for every night. You shared stories of what your life had been like on the Continent for the last month, and your family caught you up on all that you had missed.
You and Azriel couldn’t keep your hands off of each other; the spymaster kept one hand on your thigh at all times, and your hand constantly rested on top of his. When either of you needed the spare hand to eat, Azriel’s shadows slithered around your ankles, unwilling to let you go. The others poked fun at it, but they saw how happy the both of you were, and were finally happy to see you back at home.
“We finally conquered Az’s winning streak at the snowball fight this year,” Cassian announced to you as he took a bite of a Feyre's birthday cake, “I took home the victory at last.”
Azriel shook his head as he took a sip of his wine. “I demand a rematch. You only won because I wasn’t in the right state of mind. Now I could kick your ass.”
“So you admit, you were brooding?” Rhys piped up, a taunting gaze shot towards Azriel, which caused you to laugh. “I will admit, it didn’t feel like a fair competition. I’m up for a rematch tomorrow morning.”
“And we’re just nullifying my win? How is that fair?” Cassian complained.
“If you really thought you could win, you should be able to do it even when Azriel isn’t at a disadvantage,” you teased, to which Azriel smiled proudly, bringing your hand to his mouth to place a kiss atop your knuckles.
“Fine, I’ll show you that I can win tomorrow as well,” the general complied, turning his gaze to you, “But Azriel will be at a disadvantage tomorrow as well with how much you’ll wear him out tonight- ow!”
Before Cassian could finish his sentence, Azriel had dealt a swift kick to his brother’s shins under the table, earning small chuckles around the table.
“There’s no chance anyone’s beating me tomorrow. None.” Azriel stated, eyes staring into your own, blazing with a confidence you very rarely saw from the male.
Surely enough, as the snowball fight ended the next morning, the three brothers entered the cabin to greet the girls, who had opted to lounge there for the day. Rhys couldn’t hide the laughter on his face, while Cassian dragged his feet as he walked towards the birchin, pout clear for all to see. Azriel walked in last, a smug smile on his face.
The spymaster reclaimed his winning streak, because when he looked at the cabin and saw you peering out, eyes hopeful and encouraging as you sipped your mug of hot chocolate, there was nothing that could stand in his way. After six long weeks he had you home, and with you by his side, he finally felt the solstice spirit. He was complete at last.
summary: it's your first time ovulating as a fae and your mate Azriel is more than happy to satiate the need within you
genre: smut!!! | words: 3.7k | masterlist
warnings: 18+, pwp (not even a sliver of plot), smut, piv, oral (f receiving), wingplay, creampie, the breeding kink goes hard in this one, slight exhibitionism, cumplay, ovulation (duh)
Smut! Only proceed if you're 18+. Minors dni
A/N: Here it is, sorry for the confusion earlier! I have no words to excuse this unhinged piece of filth, except that I'm sorry it's not longer ;) Don't ask me how I came up with it. Maybe this is the last time I'm writing smut, cause honestly? I think I've peaked with this.
Sweat was glistening all over Azriel's torso. The sun caught the droplets at just the right angle. It looked almost like he had a faint glimmer to him as he was sparring with Rhys. His toned abs were a sight for sore eyes, the way they flexed as he put his weight into a punch directed at the high lord. But Rhys was fast and dodged the attack. The males circled one another, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike again.
Had Azriel's back always been so muscular? Did it look like this as well when he wasn't tackling his brother, but instead bending you over and fucking you? Azriel looked so wild, so carefree in the heat of the moment. His big wings unfolded halfway as he landed his first punch in Rhys's face. And you couldn't help the shudder that went through your body at the sight of your mate and thought about how he would –
"...and then he – Y/N, are you even listening to me?" Feyre waved a hand in front of your face to win back your attention.
"What? I mean sure I am". You were perched on a bank, observing your mates sparring. Shirtless. You had no idea who was winning. The only thing you noticed was the way your mate's biceps flexed and how the sun hit his perfectly sculpted chest –
"Hey! You're practically mind-fucking him. What's going on with you? This is so unlike you". A blush crept over your face. But the wetness in your panties only intensified when a breeze hit your nostrils that carried the shadowsinger's scent. And a strange heat settled in your abdomen.
You were already half out of your seat before you realized you had stood up in hopes of clawing the pants off Azriel right there. "Oh Gods, of course", Feyre laughed, "I think you're ovulating". Azriel's head whipped around to you so fast he should've broken his neck. He stared at you, wide eyed and whatever he saw in you had his eyes darkening and a blush appearing at his neck. A moment of weakness Rhys used to hit him square in the face.
The hiss you shot at Rhysand was inhumane, animalistic almost and maybe you would've tried to tackle him, if your mate hadn't immediately stood up again and walked towards you with a grin on his bloody lips and looked so sexy you contemplated having a wagon-load of winged babies.
"Did he hurt you?". You brought your hand up to his face, your fingertips lightly grazing the small wound. Your mate shook his head no and, for some reason, Rhys was chuckling somewhere behind you. Your finger stilled at his upper lip. You took him in now, close up. His dishevelled hair, the sweat mixing with dirt and blood made him so masculine, so attractive your knees nearly buckled.
"You looked so hot fighting like this", you breathed. Rhys wheezed before laughing out loudly. But your mate drew you into a hug and whispered into your ear: "I could smell you all across the training ring". Your hands grasped his arms to stabilize yourself. Your heart hammered inside your chest and the burning desire between your thighs got unbearable.
Azriel turned his head towards the others. "Did you tell her what it would be like? Does she know? I don't want to take advantage of her like this". As if on cue, you moved your hand down his front, down the delicious muscles and to his pants that hid his manhood. And then you brushed over his half-hard length firmly, fumbling to open his pants. Azriel's scarred hands clutched your waist tightly and a small gasp left his lips.
"She does", Feyre was nearly crying from laughing, "besides I think it's her who's taking advantage of you, not the other way around".
"Azzie", you begged, unable to open his pants while he held you so close, "I need you. I love you so much. You're so sexy. And it... it hurts".
Concern etched on his face. "My love, where does it hurt?". Deep inside you, straight at your core.
"I can show you". Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were screaming at yourself to get it together, but it was like all your senses were attuned to him. Like every filter had been removed, when you grabbed his hand and tried to shove it down your own pants while simultaneously tracing the whirls of the tattoo on his chest with your tongue.
"Get a room, for Cauldron's sake", Rhys bellowed and your mate grimaced at your antics.
Azriel grabbed you by your arm, the world turned dark around you and all of a sudden you were in your bedroom, hanging onto Az.
"My mate is so strong and powerful", you grinned. "And so hot and so big". He choked on plain air when you palmed him through his pants again. You whimpered. He was fully hard now, straining against his confines. "So big", you repeated and stroked him through his pants. A growl left Azriel's lips and his lips crashed onto yours in a passionate kiss. Your blood was boiling, clothes too tight on your body and his naked skin drove you insane. Every thought left your brain as you touched every inch of his body you could reach and pulled him to the bed, on top of you without breaking the kiss. You were starving and the only remedy were his lips and his tongue that were just as desperate as your own. Only when you were gasping for air, did Azriel move his kisses down to your neck.
"It hurts, Az"
"I know, baby. I'll take care of you. But you've been a bad girl, my love. Very bad". He panted. Dark tendrils of shadows slipped around your waists and ankles, binding them to the bed.
"First, you smell so delicious you make me lose against Rhys". He pressed a hot kiss to your neck, flicking the delicate skin with his tongue. A loud moan escaped you and you thrashed against the shadows holding you in place. "Then you try to get me to fuck you right in front of my brother". He took truth-teller and cut across your shirt and bra before throwing the knife away and latching onto your now freed hard nipple. It took everything within you to not come undone then and there. "And then you touch me and almost make me cum in my pants even though you want it so much, don't you?" He rolled his hips against yours once, against the powerful bundle of nerves.
"I can't help it", you replied breathlessly, "I – fuck – I need you".
His tongue circled your nipple. "Hmm... use your words. Where do you need me? I'll make you feel better" The shadows snaked up your legs now and smoothly pulled off your pants, leaving only your panties that were so wet the fabric clung to you like a second skin. Azriel kissed all over your breasts. "Here?" You shook your head. His kisses wandered further down, stopping near your bellybutton. "Here?". Vehemently, you shook your head again. "Hmm... where else?", he teased. You wanted to grab him and lead him, but the shadows wouldn't let you. Azriel chuckled softly and his mouth moved down again, agonizingly slowly towards where you needed him most. Your body was ablaze, writhing against the shadows that bound you. At the seam of your panties he stopped, breathing you in. "Gods, you smell divine". A hungry expression grazed his eyes. His nose pressed into your clothed crotch and he inhaled deeply, groaning. Azriel pressed a kiss right there, making you keen. "Do you need me here?".
A shadow caressed your cheek lightly. "Yes, right there". A wicked gleam showed in his eyes. He pressed a kiss to your still clothed sex that had you chasing his touch. You could only see his dark hair when he kissed your thighs, higher and higher, until he reached delicate skin next to your panties, soaked with arousal. By now, you were reduced to a whining mess, the only word leaving your mouth his name. You couldn't see what he was doing, your view obscured by his big wings, but the next moment, air hit your cunt and he had a ripped piece of fabric hanging from his grinning lips. Your heart skipped a beat and you moaned out in delight. Azriel had ripped your panties off with his teeth.
Azriel pressed light kisses to your folds, and then licked through them up to your clit in one slow motion.
"So wet for me". And then he ate you like you were his last meal. With deliberate strokes of his tongue, he gathered your moisture and greedily swallowed it all. His tongue dove into your waiting hole, a hand moved up to grasp your breast and with every lick, your mate's nose hit your clit at just the right angle. He was thrusting against the mattress now, you realized wirh a shudder. It was too much.
"Come on my tongue. Let go for me", he panted between licks. He thrust his tongue deeply inside and you came hard, screaming out his name and fell limp to the mattress. He helped you ride out your orgasm, drinking up every drop of moisture. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, but the pain in your womb hadn't receded. If anything the searing ache had only intensified.
"You're so pretty when you cum". Azriel kissed you softly on your lips and this small affection had you arching up against him again.
"Fuck, Az. I need more of you"
Calloused fingers ghosted against your clit and then slipped downwards, circling your entrance.
"My pretty girl can take another one, can't you? For making a fool out of me infront of Rhys". But he didn't look angry at all with his wide smile and blown out pupils as two fingers slipped inside you and curled against your walls.
The stretch and the textured feeling of his scarred fingers was oh so welcome and you greedily leaned into him, but it just wasn't enough. It just wasn't his rock-hard cock that lay against your thigh now, promising pleasure beyond anything you had ever felt.
You stroked lightly against the shadows binding you to the bed. They purred at your touch, turned soft and pliant. Enough so that they allowed you to move. Without wasting precious time, your hand shot out and stroked his wing, found the big vein right next to the main bone. Azriel shuddered above you and dropped his head onto your chest, his hand stilled within you. Slowly, you traced the vein and then the strong tendons next to it. His wing was limp in your hands, dropping half-opened to the bed and Azriel collapsed on top of you. He groaned deeply into your neck, making your toes curl and you nearly came from the sound alone. He humped against your leg, his cock now so hard it was throbbing through his pants, desperate for any friction. Another light touch of your fingertips against the delicate membrane and he bit your neck softly, growling.
Cold air whipped over your arm and ripped it off his wing, bringing it back to its original position. Azriel shot up and knelt over you and you couldn't help the whine that escaped you at the loss of contact.
"You can play later. For as long as you want", his chest was moving rapidly with his strained breaths, "but not yet"
"I can't help it. I need to feel you and touch you. I need your cock inside me and –"
He ripped his pants off, freeing his hard length that slapped against his abdomen. Its head was an angry shade of red, leaking precum all over. His veins stood out prominently against the soft skin and you swore it pulsed harder the more you looked at it. The ache inside you intensified, saliva pooled in your mouth and you were sure if you didn't get him inside you right now you'd die.
"I wanted to prepare you for me". He was shaking, restraining himself from taking you right then and there. His eyes wandered down to your waiting cunt, clenching and dripping around nothing, and the look on his face became predatory. "Do you think you're ready for me?" It was laughable, the way you thrashed against his shadows, your arousal so evident in the wetness pooling between your thighs and the hunger for his cock. You felt painfully empty, an ache deep inside you that you knew only he could cure.
"Please. Fuck me already. I need you, please", you whined. And the last sliver of your sanity went flying out of the window at your begging.
He was above you again so fast you didn't even see his movement. His hot tip slid through your folds, nudging against your clit in a deliciously devastating way that had you seeing stars. Azriel coated himself in your wetness and then stopped, his tip right at your entrance. You bucked your hips forward in annoyance, but he held you in place firmly.
There was little restraint left in his voice when he asked: "How do you want it?". The big wings at his back were trembling.
What a stupid fucking question. "Hard"
You didn't need to tell him twice. With a fast movement, he entered you and pushed all the way inside in one hard thrust. Azriel's eyes rolled back and you cried out in ecstasy. The way he filled you so completely, stretching you with a delicious burn around his hard length made the need for him even worse.
"So wet and ready for me. You take me so well", he whispered and thrust hard once. You tugged at the shadows again, but they wouldn't budge this time. "Such a needy little princess". Another thrust, hitting a spot that made you see stars. "I love the way you feel around me. Always so perfect". His eyes darkened as he looked down upon your naked body. "Hold on tight". He grabbed one of your legs and spread you wider, allowing him to settle even deeper inside you, taking your breath away. And then he fucked you roughly into the mattress. He set a rough and punishing pace, his hands wrapped so tight around your waist they would leave bruises. His cock hit all the right spots inside you and every thought except for him left your mind.
The moans that escaped you were beyond shameless. Again and again, you tried to arch up into him, but the shadows wouldn't let you. Your eyes met his and the love he put into this look was enough to send you ober the edge, crying out his name.
He stopped inside you without pulling out. "Do you feel better?". All you could register was the hard length still buried inside you up to his balls, throbbing and twitching. You shook your head.
"No? What more does my princess need?". Azriel's mouth latched back onto your breast, sucking and kissing the hardened nub and you felt yourself getting impossibly wetter by the second. "I need – fuck – I need – your – cum", you gasped with each flick of his tongue.
A deep groan sounded from him and it was music in your ears.
"Want me to come inside you? Fill you up with my seed?". He pressed a hand to your abdomen, right were he was nestled inside you and you bucked your hips against him.
"Yes. Please – don't pull out"
Azriel dropped down on you again with almost all his weight. It was pure torture having him so close and not being able to touch him.
"Breed me, Az"
Something inside him snapped at your words. He started moving again, thrusting harder and faster than before. Moans escaped his lips, mingling with your own.
The shadows relaxed their pull around you. You flung your legs around his waist, allowing him to go in even deeper. And your hands shot up straight to his bag, fingers clawing at his hard muscles. Azriel growled deeply into your ear.
"Want me to breed you?"
"Yes", you moaned, nodding frantically. He was almost there, his thrusts grew sloppy and impatient. The throbbing of his cock against your cervix the most beautiful thing you had ever felt.
"See how deep I am?" The fingers of his hand pressed to your abdomen flexed right where a bulge formed with every thrust. All you could do was nod weakly, your eyes rolling back. "Feels so good"
"This cock is yours". Your hands threaded into his hair and pulled him down to your lips. Shadows flew down to your clit and started nipping at it. "My seed is yours", he whispered against your lips.
With a strong twitch, he came inside you, hot ropes of his thick cum spurted out of him, right where you needed it the most. There was a lot of it, warmth spreading deep inside you. He kept moving, his cum squelching obscenely and the feeling of him and his seed right against your womb, the shadows working your clit perfectly, had you convulsing around him in a hard climax.
Azriel buried his face in the crook of your neck. The mating bond between you glowed in a familiar light and you felt the love radiating off him.
"Did I hurt you, baby?", he asked breathlessly.
"No. I loved it". You shuddered. There was semen dripping out of you now and you hated every drop that was wasted.
"Do you feel better?"
He tried to withdraw, but you kept him from escaping by pulling him further in with your legs around his hips.
"Not enough", you complained, out of breath, "need more of you". The burning inside your womb had died down by a fraction, but you weren't satisfied yet. Your body needed more of him, even though you could already feel him softening inside you.
"You're insatiable. Like a desperate little slut, begging for my cock to fill you up".
Azriel's lips found your neck, licking, kissing and biting until you were reduced to a whining mess below him again.
"Wait a bit, I'm not ready to go again"
But you couldn't wait. He let you roll him over onto his back with you sitting astride him. Azriel's hands gripped your hips and there was nothing but love in his gaze. Cum ran out of your cunt and dripped into his short pubic hair, onto his thighs and the sheets. Your pussy pulsed at the sight.
You dipped your fingers into his cum and brought it to your mouth to taste him. The slightly salty aroma made you moan on your fingers. And Gods, he was so sexy below you, his chest still glistening with sweat, the illyrian tattoo and his toned abs, the absolutely fucked-out look on his face. You knew exactly what to do.
Both of your hands found his neatly folded wings. You stroked all over the membranes, unfolded the wings to reach the better hidden spots that he loved the most. And he just let you.
He grew harder inside you by the second. Not long, and you were circling your hips, sliding slowly up and down his cock, slick with arousal and cum.
You got off on the sight of him, completely at your mercy. With each deliberate touch of yours, his wings trembled under your fingertips and his cock throbbed inside you.
"You're so hot like this", you gasped as you rode him slowly, "I want to fuck you until your balls are empty and I'm full of you".
You brushed against the main veins of his wings. A full-body shudder went through him, his gaze turned clear, and the next moment, he had you face down, ass up in the air and entered you from behind, making you scream.
"Fuck, that's better", he groaned, "Didn't I say it's time for wings later?". You only mewled, the new angle bringing a foreign stretch and deep penetration.
You were close to orgasm again
"But my girl needs more of my seed, right? You need to milk me dry?". He underlined his words with a deep roll of his hips and then stilled, his hands at your hips to keep you from bucking your hips back at him.
The words tumbled from your lips like a prayer. "Fuck yes. Please, Az"
With one sharp movement, he started pistoning in and out of you again, his balls slapping rhythmically against your clit.
"You're perfect like this, taking me so well".
His pace was relentless, each thrust shoving you deeper into the pillows.
"Come for me again, love". Azriel's fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles. Your climax ripped through you with a force that had you screaming his name. You clenched around him trembling.
One more thrust, until he was buried deeply inside you, his tip nestled directly against your cervix, and he found his release with a roar that had the bed shaking. Warmth spread inside you once again, straight to were you needed it.
He pressed a kiss to your back and pulled out of you. A small river of his cum trickled down your thighs. Your pussy felt sore, but the ache was gone and so was the fog in your mind.
Azriel pulled you tightly against him, laying down.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Is it better now?".
A blush crept over your cheeks at the thought of how wanton you had been only minutes ago. The things you had said, for Cauldron's sake. You hoped Rhys and Feyre had at least left the house before you started. There was no way you'd be able to look anyone into the eye again if they'd heard that. Not to mention the embarrassment you felt towards your mate. The way you had begged for his cum.
"Yes. Is it over now?"
A grin settled on his face. "If you're lucky, it'll be over in a few days".
You hid your face in your hands. "A few days? Oh Gods, I'm so sorry for how I behaved. For what I said. That was so –" Embarrassing? Humiliating? Shameful?
"That was really hot", he said softly and took your hands off your face, "that was probably the best sex I've ever had and, judging by the sounds you made –" you wanted to die on the spot "– and how you begged for more, I think you liked it too. Nothing to be ashamed of. It's instinct, you can't control it". A peck on your nose had you smiling again.
"I know, but still". He stared at you, disbelieving. "Okay, fine. I loved it. And it doesn't sound too bad to have you fucking me like that for the next couple of days"
Summary: When Reader fakes an orgasm Azriel has no choice but to teach her not to lie to him, but not with words.
Warnings: smut | 18+ | pwp | dom!Az / Brat!Reader | Brat tamer/taming | cunnilingus | slight impact | slight breathplay | creampie | p in v | overstim | controlled orgasm | clit sucking | slut shaming | slight dollification | there’s so many ts freaky
Word count: 6.5k
A.Note: Please read the warnings!!! This is nasty, literally all smut, mdni.
I should have known better.
Should have known that Azriel, with all his centuries of honed observation and razor-sharp instincts—his ability to read people down to the slightest flicker of emotion—would notice.
I thought I had hidden it well, that he had been too lost in his own pleasure to realize I hadn't unraveled beneath him the way I usually did. That the tremor in my voice, the sharp edge of my cries, hadn't quite matched the ones before. I told myself he wouldn't catch the fleeting moment where my body had tensed but never truly shattered, where my release had been nothing more than an illusion painted for his sake.
I don't even know why I did it. Azriel had always been so attuned to me, so devoted to my pleasure. Maybe it was the exhaustion weighing down my limbs, the ache of an endlessly long day pressing against my bones. Maybe it was the way he had looked at me tonight—so desperate to bring me over the edge with him. I hadn't wanted to bruise his pride.
But he knows.
He doesn't say anything. Not as he cleans me up with steady, reverent hands, the warm cloth dragging over my skin with the same care he always gives me. Not as he helps me into my nightgown, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary. But I feel it. Feel it in the way his hazel eyes darken, their golden flecks burning as they study me in that quiet, unreadable way.
Still, he says nothing. Not when he turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a cocoon of darkness. Not when I turn to him, pressing a soft kiss against his lips in an attempt to quell the unspoken weight between us.
He kisses me back, slow and deep, but his shadows betray him. They curl tighter around his frame, restless like they are whispering secrets meant only for him—secrets I cannot decipher.
He doesn't say anything for a long while. Holds onto the knowledge, lets it simmer beneath his quiet exterior, tucked away where I almost believe it will stay.
For a moment, I think I've gotten away with it.
But when morning comes, the silence finally fractures.
"Why did you fake it?"
The question lands like a stone in my chest, sending my heart into a frantic rhythm. His voice is steady—too steady. Like he's been awake all night just waiting to ask.
I blink at him tiredly, feigning confusion. "What?"
Azriel doesn't waver. "You didn't come. Why'd you fake it?"
Blunt. Direct. The weight of his stare alone is enough to pin me in place. He's clearly been sitting with this, turning it over in his mind, dissecting it in that way only he can. And now, he wants answers.
"I—I didn't—"
He tilts his head slowly, and my breath catches. Not a word passes his lips, but the movement alone is enough of a warning.
"Try again, love." His shadows swirl around us despite the morning light filtering through the curtains.
I stay silent.
Azriel exhales, his grip on my waist flexing. "I've been up all night trying to figure out why you'd feel the need to fake something like that. Especially with me." His voice is soft, but it cuts through me all the same. "And I can't. So tell me—why?"
"I didn't want you to feel bad," I murmur, barely above a whisper. "You treat me so well, all the time. I didn't want you getting hung up on this one night."
But here we were—doing exactly that.
His jaw tightens, tension carving sharp lines into his face. The early morning light filters through the curtains, soft and golden, but there is nothing soft about the way he's looking at me. Still, his hands find mine, fingers intertwining. The roughness of his scars against my skin is familiar. Comforting.
"Do you think so little of me?" The words are quiet, but no less devastating.
"No." I snap my gaze to his, panic flickering in my chest. "No, never, Az."
His thumb skims over my knuckles before he brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss there. "Then why lie?" he asks, the warmth of his breath lingering. "Do you not trust me to take care of you? Do you not want me to?"
His voice dips lower, and my stomach clenches. He truly had to be thinking about this all night to draw up these conclusions.
"I do," I rush to reassure him. "Of course I do. I was just—I was tired, that's all." I lean closer, brushing my lips against his in a gentle kiss.
He doesn't pull away. Doesn't let go of my waist. But when he tilts his head, the look in his eyes shifts into something sharper. Something hungry.
"You tired now?"
His mouth finds mine again, deeper this time. Slow, deliberate, teasing.
I exhale softly. "No."
Azriel mirrors my smile, but there's something different about his. Something sharper. More feral.
"Good."
And before I can react, he's got me beneath him, arms pinned above my head, a wicked gleam in his hazel eyes.
A gasp catches in my throat as Azriel moves, fast and fluid, flipping me beneath him before I can so much as blink. My wrists are pinned above my head, his scarred fingers wrapped firmly around them, the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress.
His wings flare slightly, blocking out the golden slant of morning light, leaving nothing but the two of us in the shadows. His shadows.
They curl around his frame like living threads of darkness, writhing in time with his slow, deliberate breaths. The way he looks at me now—hazel eyes molten, jaw tight, lips slightly parted—sends a shiver down my spine.
"You really thought I wouldn't notice, didn't you?" His voice is low, rough, but not angry. No, the way he says it—the way he watches me squirm beneath him—is something else entirely.
I swallow hard. "Azriel, I—"
"You were exhausted." He hums as if considering my excuse. "Didn't want to hurt my feelings." A soft scoff leaves him, his nose brushing the shell of my ear. "What a sweet little lie."
I shudder, my fingers flexing uselessly beneath his grip. "It wasn't—I just—"
"Didn't think I could handle the truth?" He trails a hand down my side, fingers whispering over the thin fabric of my nightgown, tracing every dip, every curve. "Or did you think I wouldn't take care of you properly?"
I shake my head quickly, but he catches my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him.
"You know I don't like being lied to, love," he murmurs, voice silken and dark. "Especially not about this, you forgot though."
His thumb drags over my bottom lip, and my breath hitches. He watches me, eyes burning, gaze sharp enough to cut.
"Let's fix that, yeah?"
His grip on my wrists tightens just as his free hand moves lower, skimming over my stomach, my thighs—slow, teasing, deliberate.
"You're going to be honest with me from now on." A soft kiss, barely there, pressed to my throat. "You're going to let me take care of you the way I always do." Another kiss, lower this time, lingering over my pulse.
"And you, love," he whispers, teeth grazing against my skin, "are going to learn exactly what happens when you try to keep something like that from me."
His shadows coil around my ankles, holding me in place, and then—
I lose the ability to think.
"Az," I breathe, my body arching instinctively beneath him, trying to chase the warmth of his touch. But he holds me still, his fingers barely skimming where I need him most, his shadows curling tighter around my wrists and ankles like they, too, are in on his cruel game.
Azriel hums, amused. "You sound a little desperate, love."
I glare at him, but it's hard to make it convincing when I'm squirming beneath him, my pulse racing, my breath coming too fast. "You're being cruel."
His lips curl at the accusation. "Am I?" His fingers dance along the edge of my nightgown, slipping just beneath it before retreating just as quickly, his touch featherlight. "Seems to me I'm just teaching a valuable lesson."
"You're insufferable."
Azriel chuckles, the sound low and sinful, sending a ripple of heat through me. "You weren't saying that last night."
Heat floods my face. "Maybe because last night, you weren't tormenting me."
His brows lift, feigning innocence. "And yet you didn't come. Seems to me you like the tormenting." He dips his head, kissing a slow, searing path along my collarbone. "But if you'd prefer, I could stop."
A smirk plays at his lips as he starts to pull away as if testing to see just how desperate I really am.
I scowl, tightening my legs around his waist, locking him in place. "Don't you dare."
His laughter is warm against my skin, and the next thing I know, his fingers are on my thighs, tracing slow, torturous circles. "That's more like it," he murmurs approvingly. "Now, tell me, love—" his lips ghost over the shell of my ear, his voice nothing but a delicious rasp, "—you going to fake it again?"
My brows furrow as I peer up at him through my lashes.
"No," Azriel grins, wicked and knowing. "I'm not going to stop until you're too wrecked to even think about faking it again."
A sharp inhale. A rush of heat.
His hands tighten, and his voice drops to a whisper, his words dripping with sinful promise.
His fingers move with calculated precision, unbuttoning my top one slow pop at a time. I help him shed it, my own hands sliding beneath his shirt, mapping the warm, golden skin stretched over taut muscle. The ink of his tattoos shifts under my touch as he pulls the fabric over his head and tosses it aside.
I lean in, capturing his lips, but he meets me halfway, claiming my mouth with a hunger that steals my breath. His tongue sweeps past my lips, exploring greedily, and I moan softly into him.
Then, suddenly, my wrists are pinned to the mattress, bound by the whisper-soft strength of his shadows. A gasp catches in my throat, my body instinctively tugging, but it's futile. Azriel merely smirks, his fingers skating down my sides, toying with the band of my panties, the heat of his touch sending sparks across my skin.
I lift my hips in a silent plea, urging him on, but he only chuckles, slow and deep. "Patience, love," he chastises, his fingers hooking beneath the fabric.
"Please," I whisper, desperate.
Azriel hums in approval but moves achingly slow, peeling the lace from my body like he has all the time in the world. His knuckles brush against my thighs as he drags them down, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.
"I want you to feel everything," he murmurs, lips ghosting over my collarbone, where a faint mark from last night still lingers. A reminder. A promise.
"Az," I whine, shifting against the restraints, needing more, needing him.
He tsks, dark amusement glittering in his hazel eyes. "I know, I know," he coos, dragging his mouth along my skin, teasing me with every slow, lingering kiss. "But you can be patient can't you?"
I nod, breathless, eyes locked onto his as he trails lower.
"Good," he praises, but his voice dips into something more commanding. "And you understand I can't reward your bratty behavior?"
"Yes," I whisper.
His brows arch. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
Azriel's smirk is wicked, his satisfaction rolling off him in waves. "There's my girl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my stomach before lowering himself further between my thighs. "Now stay still for me, yeah?"
I nod, back arching as I ready myself.
His breath is warm against my skin, teasing, taunting, and when his lips ghost over where I need him most, a helpless whimper spills from my lips. I tip my head back into the pillows, unable to watch, unable to handle the way he's taking his time, savoring the way I fall apart beneath him before he's even truly touched me.
"Sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "So needy. Just couldn't get off, could you?"
I shake my head pitifully. "No," I manage, my voice barely above a breath.
He clicks his tongue, pressing a featherlight kiss to my inner thigh. "It's okay, love," he murmurs, and then his grip tightens on my hips, holding me still as he finally, finally drags his tongue through my slick folds.
A choked moan tumbles from my lips, my back arching further off the bed, but his shadows keep me grounded. He hums in approval against me, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat coiling low in my stomach.
"Azriel," I moan, writhing, tugging uselessly at the darkness binding my wrists. "Please."
He smirks against me but doesn't answer, just hikes one of my legs over his shoulder, deepening his assault. His tongue flicks over my clit with precision, his mouth sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking just hard enough to have me keening.
I can't move. Can't grind against him, can't chase the pleasure building inside me—because he's making sure that my release comes entirely from him.
That realization has me spiraling even faster.
"Az—Azriel, please," I gasp, my thighs trembling as the coil tightens, winding impossibly tight.
His grip on my hips bruises, his scarred fingers pressing into my skin as his tongue circles my clit again and again.
"Go ahead, love," he rasps against me, his voice thick with satisfaction. The vibrations of his words against my swollen, aching cunt are all it takes to send me over the edge.
I shatter, a sharp cry tearing from my throat as my orgasm crashes through me, my body locking up before melting into the mattress. My vision whites out, pleasure consuming me in wave after relentless wave.
Azriel doesn't stop. Doesn't let up. He guides me through it, slow and deliberate, savoring every aftershock.
"There it is," he murmurs, his lips pressing a final, lingering kiss to my sensitive folds before glancing up at me, utterly wrecked beneath him. "My girl looks so pretty when she comes."
The flat of his tongue gathers my arousal on his tongue, cleaning me. A soft, broken whimper is the only response I can manage.
But Azriel isn't done. Not yet. Not until I've learned my lesson.
I panted softly, still trembling as he kissed his way back up my body, his mouth hot and unrelenting against my flushed skin. Every inch of me is still humming from the waves of pleasure he's wrung out of me.
His lips trail over my breasts, pressing a kiss to one before he takes the stiff peak into his mouth, his tongue swirling in slow, torturous circles. The same tongue that had just shattered me now teases and soothes in equal measure, and I bow into his touch, a soft gasp spilling from my lips.
"Azriel," I rasp, tugging against my dark restraints.
His shadows hold firm, but he lifts his gaze to me through his lashes, those hazel eyes molten with desire. My breath catches, and I swear I feel the heat of his stare everywhere. His tongue flicks against my nipple, sharp and purposeful, and my thighs instinctively fall back open for him.
He smirks, releasing my breast with a wet pop before kissing his way up, up, until he finds my lips. He swallows my soft whimper as his tongue slides past my lips, letting me taste myself on him. The intimacy of it makes my head spin, and I kiss him back greedily, nipping at his lower lip when he pulls away.
His breath is warm against my mouth as he murmurs, "Inside?"
"Yes," I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I need you inside me."
His lips quirk up in a lazy, knowing smile. "Yeah? You need it?"
"Please," I whimper, my desperation laid bare.
Azriel hums, kissing me again, slow and deep, before pulling away. The sound of his belt unbuckling, the rustle of fabric as he shoves his pants down—it sends a thrilling pulse of anticipation through me.
I was so attuned to him, his sounds, the feel of him. The heat of him between my thighs, the way he strokes himself once, twice, teasing me with the promise of what's to come.
Then he's there, pressing the thick head of his cock against my slick entrance, and I nearly sob with need.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice dark with satisfaction as he teases me, sliding just the tip inside before pulling back. "So wet, so ready—"
"Az," I whine, my hips tilting, seeking him.
His hand presses down on my stomach, holding me still. "You take what I give you, love. Nothing more."
I moan at his words, at the sheer dominance in his tone, and then he pushes in, stretching me inch by inch until he's seated fully inside me. He takes his time, driving me wild in the process, each slow thrust pulling a desperate sound from my lips. My walls flutter around him, trying to draw him deeper, but he holds himself back, teasing, torturing.
By the time he finally sinks to the hilt, I'm panting, trembling beneath him, my body molded perfectly to his.
A low groan rumbles through his chest, his head dropping to the crook of my neck as he rolls his hips once, dragging a sharp gasp from me. "Fuck," he breathes, his voice wrecked. "So tight. Always so fucking perfect for me."
I whimper, my body adjusting to the delicious burn of being so completely filled, stretched to the limit around him.
Azriel pulls back slowly, almost entirely, before thrusting forward again, his pace agonizingly slow, like he's savoring the way I squeeze around him.
"You feel that?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear, his voice dark, wicked. "How deep I am?"
"Yes," I pant, my wrists straining against my restraints, desperate to touch him, to claw at his back, to do anything other than lie there and take it.
But that's exactly what he wants.
He rolls his hips again, dragging himself against that spot inside me that has my toes curling, my back arching off the bed.
"You lied to me, love," he reminds me, his tone thick with amusement, with something darker, more possessive. "So now I get to decide how long you last."
A whimper slips from my lips, and he chuckles, low and satisfied.
"You'll take what I give you," he murmurs, his fingers digging into my hips, holding me still even as I writhe beneath him. "And you'll thank me for it."
Then he pulls back and thrusts into me hard, setting a punishing rhythm that steals the breath from my lungs.
He grips my thighs, spreading me wider, fucking into me so deep I swear I can feel him everywhere, in my bones, in my blood.
"So good, you're always so good for me," he groans, his voice rough, barely held together. His restraint is a fragile thing, and gods, knowing I could break him with a single plea makes me throb around him.
"So cruel of me," he muses, his thrusts slowing, dragging out my torture, "to come inside this pretty pussy last night without making sure my girl got her release, hm?"
All I can do is whimper, my head tipping back, body trembling as he fucks me slow, deep, each deliberate roll of his hips making me feel every inch of him.
The rhythmic sound of the bed slamming into the wall and his low, guttural grunts fill the room, the air thick with heat, with the wet, obscene sounds of him driving into me. I bite into my lower lip to stop myself from sounding so damned desperate, but we both know—Azriel knows—just how wrecked I am.
The proof of it is between my thighs, soaking his cock, dripping down onto the sheets.
His hand slides down my stomach, his fingertips ghosting over my clit, not quite touching, just enough to make me sob in frustration.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice full of wicked delight. "Fucking dripping for me." His thumb swipes through my slick folds, pressing teasingly just above where I need him most. "So messy, love. So needy."
I whimper, arching into his touch, desperate for relief.
Azriel tuts, shaking his head. "Oh no, sweetheart. You don't get to come yet."
I whine, a broken, desperate sound, and he just chuckles, pulling his hand away entirely.
"You wanted to lie to me," he reminds me, his lips brushing over my jaw as his cock twitches inside me. "Now you get to feel what it's like to be left aching, desperate, needing."
I sob, my head thrashing against the pillow, but he just keeps fucking me, slow and deep, making me take every inch of him without giving me a single ounce of relief.
I fucking love it.
Azriel smirks against my throat, dragging his lips down the column of my neck, his cock still buried deep inside me, thrusting slow, deep, controlled. My body is writhing beneath him, my nails digging uselessly into my palms as his shadows keep me bound.
"Poor thing," he murmurs, nipping at the spot just below my jaw, his tongue soothing over the sting. "You sound so fucking desperate."
I whimper in response, my thighs trembling, my cunt clenching down around him in a futile attempt to pull him deeper, to coax him into fucking me the way I need.
He chuckles, low and dark, dragging his cock out so slow before sinking back in, every inch stretching me open again, every movement meant to drive me insane.
"You said you'd be good for me," he muses, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Said you understood why I had to punish you."
I nod frantically, my breath hitching as he rolls his hips again, the angle perfectly devastating.
"Then why," he murmurs, his lips brushing over my ear, "are you whining like a slut, love?"
A full-body shudder rolls through me at his words, and he laughs—a wicked, pleased sound—because he knows exactly what that does to me.
"Oh?" His grin is evident in his tone. "You like that?"
"Azriel," I rasp, my voice ruined, my body burning.
"Sir," he corrects smoothly, his hand wrapping around my throat, applying just the lightest pressure.
"Sir," I breathe, and fuck—I shouldn't be this turned on, shouldn't be this gone just from the way he's talking to me.
He hums in approval, dragging his nose along my cheek before whispering, "That's my girl."
And then he stops moving.
I let out a cry, bucking my hips, desperate for anything, but his grip on my throat tightens just slightly as a warning.
"Ah, ah," he tuts, shaking his head. "You'll take what I give you, remember?"
"Yes, sir," I whimper, my head falling back.
His thumb brushes over my lower lip. "Such a good girl." He tilts his head, pretending to consider something. "Maybe I should make you beg for it properly."
"I—" My voice catches as he barely rolls his hips, just enough for me to feel him inside me without giving me any real relief.
"I think I will," he murmurs, his thumb pressing against my lips. "Go on, love. Beg."
"Please, sir," I whisper, my voice barely audible.
He tuts, shaking his head. "Oh, sweetheart, you're not even trying. You know you can do better than that."
He pulls out entirely, making me sob in frustration, in unbearable, aching need.
"Again," he commands, his tone all silk and steel.
"Please," I gasp, my back arching, my legs trembling. "Please, sir, I need you so bad, I—fuck—I can't—"
He groans, his cock twitching against my entrance, and finally—finally—he slams back inside me, knocking the breath from my lungs.
"That's it," he praises, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm that has my nails digging into my palms, my mouth falling open on a soundless moan. "That's my fucking girl."
I'm ruined beneath him, my body alight with pleasure, with torment, with the unbearable need to come. And he knows.
His hand drops between us, his fingers finding my clit, and I wail, my body bowing off the bed as he circles the swollen bud with just the right amount of pressure.
"You wanna come, love?" he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.
"Yes, sir," I sob. "Please, please, please—"
His pace falters, just for a second.
"Fuck," he rasps, his cock twitching inside me. "You sound so pretty when you beg for me."
"Then please," I cry, the pleasure coiling so tight I can't take it anymore.
He presses his forehead against mine, his thrusts turning erratic, desperate.
"Come for me, love," he breathes. "Now."
And fuck—I shatter.
My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, my body seizing, my back arching, my walls fluttering wildly around him as I scream his name.
But Azriel—he doesn't stop.
Not even for a second.
"That's it," he growls, his fingers still working my clit, dragging my pleasure out, making my body shake, making me wail. "Give me another one, sweetheart. I know you can."
My body jerks, as my breath stutters and my thighs tremble violently from the sheer intensity of my release, he just keeps going.
"Too much," I gasp, my body writhing beneath him, every nerve ending alight with unbearable pleasure. "Sir—"
His hand tightens around my waist, his hips still slamming into me, his cock dragging against that spot inside me that makes my vision white out.
I sob, my body tensing as another wave of pleasure builds, impossibly fast, impossibly sharp.
"What's wrong, love?" he murmurs, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear. "You were so eager for it just a moment ago."
His fingers press against my clit, rubbing tight, devastating circles, making my body twitch beneath him.
"I—fuck, I can't—"
Azriel just grins, leaning down to kiss my temple, so mockingly sweet.
"You can," he purrs, his voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "You were just begging for it, I know you can."
I whimper, my head tossing to the side, my brain too fogged to even process anything beyond the ruthless way he's using me.
"Look at you," he muses, his tone full of wicked amusement. "Fucked so dumb you can't even think straight."
I moan at his words, my legs trembling around his waist.
He laughs, low and mean, his fingers still ruthlessly working my clit, even as my entire body shakes from the overstimulation.
"What was that, love?" His teeth graze my jaw, sending another shudder down my spine. "You like being used like this?"
I sob, my head tossing back, unable to form words, unable to do anything with my hands and ankles bound. I loved it, he knew I loved it.
"Fuck," he groans, his thrusts growing erratic, his grip on my wrists bruising. "You're so fucking perfect like this—just my little plaything to fuck as I please."
I wail, my body burning, pleasure suffocating me as another climax threatens to rip through me. The pleasure was wringing me out dry.
His fingers press against my clit, merciless, relentless.
"You gonna give me another one, sweetheart?" His voice is taunting, his lips brushing over my ear. "Gonna come on my cock again, even though it's too much?" He mocks.
I nod frantically, tears slipping down my temples, my body convulsing from the unbearable pleasure.
He smirks, so fucking smug.
"That's what I thought," he murmurs. "My perfect little slut."
I gripe, clenching around him tightly.
Azriel moans, his cock twitching inside me, his thrusts growing sloppier, more frantic.
"One more," he growls, his hand wrapping around my throat, squeezing just right. "Give me one more, love. Be good for me."
I don't even have the breath to scream. And then he snaps his hips forward, his fingers moving faster, and I fucking lose it, another orgasm ripping through me, dragging me under, drowning me in white-hot bliss.
I just shatter, my body breaking apart, my vision going dark at the edges as pleasure obliterates me.
And Azriel—he fucking laughs, still thrusting, still pushing me, ruining me.
"That's my girl," he purrs. "Always so good for me."
Azriel pulls out slowly, almost tenderly, and I slump against the mattress, my body wrecked, trembling with the aftershocks of everything he's done to me. My wrists ache from pulling against the shadows, my legs barely responding to me as I try to catch my breath.
I think—finally. He's done.
But then his hands are on me again, flipping me onto my stomach in one fluid, effortless motion, his strength overpowering.
"Didn't think I was done, did you sweet girl?" he murmurs, his voice like a dark promise as he hauls me up onto my knees.
I barely have a second to process before his hand presses against my back, forcing my chest down, stuffing my face into the pillows.
I gasp, my arms pinned uselessly beneath me, my body still twitching from overstimulation as I feel him behind me—feel the hard press of his cock sliding between my soaked folds, teasing, not yet giving me what I know he's about to.
"Azriel," I mumble, my voice muffled against the pillows, wrecked and pleading.
He tuts at me, his grip tight as he spreads my knees wider, forcing me open for him.
"You think you can take another round?" His voice is full of mockery, his hand running slowly over my hip before gripping me there, holding me in place. "You've been so good for me, taking everything I've given you—you wouldn't let me down now would you?"
"No sir," I moan softly, my body already shuddering with anticipation as he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging against my entrance.
I barely have time to pant out a desperate, "Sir," before he thrusts inside me, deep, the new angle making me see fucking stars.
I scream, my fingers clenching uselessly into the sheets as he fills me completely, pressing so deep it makes my entire body tremble.
"Fuck, that's better," he groans, his hands sliding up to grip my waist as he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, his pace instantly ruthless.
My mouth drops open in a silent moan, my mind blanking as he uses my body, fucking me like he owns me, like he's never going to stop.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he murmurs, his voice dark, smug. "To be bent over like this, my cock so deep inside you, you can't even think?"
I sob against the pillows, my body already climbing toward another release, my overstimulated nerves sparking with unbearable pleasure.
Azriel just laughs, his hands gripping my hips as he forces my legs to stay open, refusing to let me close them, refusing to let me hide from how utterly ruined I am.
"You're so fucking perfect like this," he breathes, leaning down so his chest presses against my back, his teeth grazing my ear. "Taking me so well, love. My perfect slut."
I keen, my walls clamping down around him, my entire body melting under his words, his touch, his fucking torment.
"That's it," he purrs, his fingers sliding down between my legs, finding my clit, rubbing it in cruel little circles. "Come for me again, sweetheart. I want to feel you break on my cock."
He keeps his pace brutal even as I flutter around him, his grip on my hips unrelenting as he fucks me into the mattress, each thrust shoving me deeper into the pillows, like he's trying to mold me to the shape of his cock.
And all I can do is take it. Take the way he ruins me, the way he stretches me open again and again, making me feel so fucking full I can't even think.
"You hear yourself, sweetheart?" he taunts, his voice dark, drenched in amusement as he listens to the wrecked little sobs spilling from my lips. "Crying for me while you drip all over my cock like a good whore."
I sob again, pleasure and overstimulation making my body shake, making my mind fog over with nothing but him.
"F-fuck, Az," I whimper, my fingers clawing uselessly at the sheets.
His hand cracks against my ass, making me jolt forward on a choked-out cry.
"Sir," he corrects again, his tone firm, his free hand sliding up my back, tracing the arch his thrusts are forcing me into.
My walls clench around him so tight it drags a deep, filthy groan from his chest.
"You like that?" he purrs, smug as sin, rolling his hips in slow, torturous circles, making sure I feel every inch of him. "Like knowing I could fill this pretty little cunt up—watch you swell with my seed?"
I whimper, my toes curling at the thought, at the absolute filth pouring from his lips.
And then his hand is sliding down, pressing to my lower stomach—right where he's buried deep inside of me.
A guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his fingers flexing as he feels where he's stretching me open, where he'd fill me up if he let himself go.
"Fuck," he breathes, his grip tightening on my hip as he thrusts again, shoving deeper just to feel the bulge of himself inside me. "So fucking deep, love. You feel that?"
I nod weakly, my eyes rolling back, my body trembling as another broken sob leaves my lips.
He laughs, wicked and cruel.
"Already so fucked out, aren't you?" he taunts, dragging his palm over my stomach, pressing harder just to make me feel how deep he is. "Poor little thing—just a dumb, desperate mess on my cock."
I keen, my legs shaking, my body completely wrecked and at his mercy.
He twitches, my body arching as he presses into a spot that makes my vision go white, my mouth falling open in a pitiful pant. "Sir, feels, so good," I whimpered.
"Yeah? Greedy girl, going to come again?" He taunted, lips brushing against my shoulder, his sweat-slicked chest kissing my bowed back.
"Please—can I?" His pace didn't slow, even if I knew he was getting closer, he grew more and more sloppy but he did not slow.
"Wait f'me, I'm almost there," He whispered into my skin.
I clenched around him, unable to help myself, wanting to help him get there. My arms shook, near to giving out as I panted into the bed sheets, gripping the pristine white cloth in my fist to stop myself from moving up on the bed.
He twitched inside of me again, growing eager. "Inside," I breathe softly. "Fill me," I beg.
"Yeah? Want me to claim this cunt?" He whispered, lips grazing over the shell of my ear.
"Please, sir," I beg, bottom lip wobbling.
"Okay love, come—come f'me," He chokes slightly, consumed by his need for release. I doubted I could hold onto that edge for much longer, and the sound that left me during that final orgasm was louder than the rest, primal in a way. He twitched once more, and as I clenched tightly around him from the cresting of my orgasm, he came too, painting my walls white with his thick release.
He thrust slowly, gently, easing me down from the white-hot high that still had my body trembling. My whimper was soft, and breathless, as he finally pulled from me, his release spilling from me, warm and slick against my thighs. If not for his steady hands cradling me, guiding me down onto the mattress, I might've collapsed completely.
"Not too much?" His voice was hushed, rough around the edges, like he was just as wrecked as I was, despite that Illyrian stamina keeping him upright. A calloused hand brushed through my likely tangled hair, tucking it behind my ear so he could see me clearly.
I tried to form words, but all I could manage was a breathless, "No." A slow inhale, then, "Felt s'good." My voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, and even that much effort felt like too much.
He hummed softly, pressing a lingering kiss to my temple. "You did so good," he murmured against my skin before slipping his arms beneath me. I barely had time to react before I was in his embrace again, lifted with ease. "Let's get you cleaned up."
I nodded weakly, my limbs boneless, and let him carry me into the bathroom. The cool marble of the counter met the flushed heat of my skin, soothing, grounding. I watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, admiring him in this quiet aftermath. The way his jaw clenched in focus as he wrung out a damp cloth. The tenderness in his touch as he wiped me down, extra careful between my thighs. The contrast of his rough, battle-worn hands moving with such exquisite care.
He combed through my hair next, untangling the knots his fingers had left earlier, his motions steady, unhurried. Every stroke, every pass of his hands over my body, was reverent. Devotional.
He kissed me softly then, tasting of cedar and salt, of something uniquely him. His hands skimmed my sides, his touch a whisper of heat against my skin.
"Six times." His voice was smug, but quiet, like he was half-talking to himself.
I blinked up at him, dazed. "Hm?"
"You came six times." His lips quirked into a knowing smirk, his fingers tracing idle patterns along my thigh.
Heat flooded my already flushed cheeks, my stomach twisting with something like mortification and pride all at once. If he knew so easily, then surely he knew immediately last night when it wasn't real.
"You were counting?"
He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Had to make up for last night."
I huffed a small, breathy laugh. "You did."
His smirk softened as he kissed me again. Slow. Deep. A promise.
"How do you know?" I murmured against his lips, pulling back just enough for our noses to brush. "When I come?"
His gaze darkened, and something in his expression made my stomach flip. "You make this pretty face," he said, voice dropping, thumb tracing my bottom lip. "You couldn't fake it if you tried."
I swallowed hard, heat pooling low once more.
"And you always moan my name," he continued, pressing a slow kiss to my throat. "Every single time." His lips dragged over my pulse, felt the way it jumped. "Without fail, it's always my name on your lips."
I could feel my blush creeping lower, my skin burning everywhere he touched.
"You didn't last night," he murmured, voice a lazy drawl like he was enjoying my embarrassment. "Wasn't hard to figure out."
I groaned, dropping my forehead against his shoulder, but I couldn't help but laugh at myself. He chuckled too, the sound a warm rumble against my skin.
I pressed a kiss to his temple, letting my hands roam down his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles beneath my touch.
"So," I mused, still breathless, still utterly spent. "Breakfast?"
Summary: No one expected you to understand fae customs just yet—much less Illyrian customs. So maybe Azriel should have made his intentions a little more obvious. He began to understand that mistake as you began to pull away.
Word count: 4k
Warnings: Biggest miscommunication trope lol, angst, pining!, idiots in love, Archeron!Reader but really only that she was human and now fae
a/n: This is the second and final part for this little two-shot!! It was so fun to write I love miscommunication (when it gets RESOLVED lol)!! Thank you for reading ilyyyy 🫶
Read part one here!
Main Masterlist ♡
~~
You bundled yourself into a thick wool sweater to stave off the chill of the night. After your proclamation and the awkward silence that followed, Azriel had stood, faltered in his stance, and then excused himself while running a shaky hand over his jaw.
The picture of relief; he was finally free from your needy confines.
Your chest felt heavy as you walked with no destination in mind. Perhaps you should find a date for the night. You had been fae for a while now, and so perhaps it was time for you to truly settle in—to find relationships beyond the family you acquired. Sure, you’d made friends, but there was something more you desired, and it was clear Azriel wasn’t going to be that for you.
You shook off the thoughts—both of finding a date and of being with someone who wasn’t Azriel. It would take a lot more than a simple whim to get over him, and although disheartening, that revelation was crucial. You needed to move on. You needed to stop reading into every small move he made. He was just nice, just giving to his family.
Frustration and tiredness gripped you next, so you set course for the Sidra. You figured the lapping tide would calm your mind and ground you, and when you plopped onto the first bench you could find, you found your suspicions were correct. Closing your eyes, you let the water take over.
It wasn’t until you started to notice the chill under your legs that the air shifted. You could tell it wasn’t Azriel instantly, something about the movement of the air not feeling like him. Instead, the swish of wings caused you to snap your eyes open to find Cassian standing before you, his arms crossed over his chest and his brow raised in silent accusation.
“That was cruel,” he said, tone not unkind. “You’re not cruel. Not on purpose. What did he do to make you so upset?”
He did several things to make you upset, but they all sounded childish, even in your head—childish and not even his fault. But you weren’t even sure what Cassian was referring to, so you started with that.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Cassian sighed like he was getting ready for a long night. He tugged at the seams of his pants and sat beside you on the bench. “Come on. Don’t be like that. Tell me why you said you have a date when you’re sitting by yourself right now.”
It was your turn to sigh. You leaned back and looked out to the Sidra instead of at Cassian’s patient gaze. “Don’t make me talk about it. It’s bad enough that you’ve caught me in my lie.”
“Yeah, no offense, but I didn’t actually think you had a date.”
You huffed out a humorless laugh. “Am I really that pathetic?”
“Well… No,” Cassian slowly replied. “But I never thought you would do that to Az. And I’m sure he doesn’t think that either. But it hurt him to hear you say that, and I guess I’m trying to understand why you did. Like I said, you’re not cruel.”
Something felt like it was running in circles in your head. You kept your arms crossed over your chest, but craned your neck to look at Cassian again, trying to find answers in his features. You found only open searching from your friend.
You shook your head slightly. “I did it to protect myself,” you stated obviously. “I needed to let him go, and he needed to know that I would be fine without his constant attentiveness. It’s never been fair to him.”
For all of his gusto in entering this conversation, Cassian now stared at you with an utterly blank expression. Not even his wings twitched as you both looked at each other. Cassian had his arm hooked over the back of the bench, and it looked to be cemented there as he processed your words.
Feeling uncomfortable in the silence, you continued. “I’ve been his responsibility ever since I was Made, and it’s not fair that my feelings have kept him trapped for longer than he’s needed to be. I’m so grateful that he’s been here for me while I’ve been getting adjusted, but I’m adjusted now, and he needs to start living again.”
Another pause. Cassian turned your words over in his head. “Your feelings?”
“Of course that would be the only thing you catch—Yes, Cassian, I have feelings for Azriel. But you and I both know that’s ridiculous.”
He blinked. Something close to irritation stirred in your gut.
“You think—” Cassian began, before stopping himself and moving back on the bench slightly. “You—But Azriel… and you—”
You followed each sentence he uttered, only for them to trail off. Some of the irritation mingled with embarrassment within you, and you clenched your jaw, gripping the stone beneath you. “Yes, Cassian, I know it’s very hard to believe and probably quite a comical thought, but if you could gather your words that would be very appreciated.”
Cassian muttered a silent ‘comical?’ to himself that made you raise your brows, but the Illyrian seemed to finally land on a solid thought and quickly reached out to shake your hand. Your wrist flapped in his grip.
“You’re wearing this,” he started, forefinger tapping the ring on your pinky.
“Yes? And? It was a sweet gift,” you offered.
“It has—the siphons.”
“It has what?”
“The blue. It’s part of the siphon Azriel wears on his chest. The underside.”
You looked away for a moment, searching the surroundings for nothing. “Why on Earth would he put that in there?”
Cassian gave you an incredulous look. “What about the flying cloak?”
“What about the what?” You jerked your head back slightly, now completely and utterly lost. “You mean the coat Azriel was letting me wear when he flew me places?”
“No, the cloak. It’s tradition. His mother—” Cassian cut himself off again, releasing your hand finally. He’d been shaking it around since he started talking, and you were glad to have it back. You clutched your fingers in towards your chest and stared at your friend, suddenly worried about his sanity as he squinted his eyes up at a passing cloud.
“Cass, are you alright? I don’t—I’m confused.”
“You’re confused,” Cassian nodded to himself, words final. He remained squinting at the sky.
“Right. So, can you explain this psychotic break to me, or am I meant to pick up on context clues or…”
Cassian suddenly stood, the wind taken up by his wings startling a small screech from your lungs. You followed him up on pure instinct, and the Illyrian grabbed both of your shoulders. “Come on then.”
“Come on? Come on, where? Cassian, I still don’t—Cassian!” Your questions were lost to a scream as Cassian practically shoved you into his arms and took to the sky. You pushed your face into his chest and felt the cool whips of night drive into your skin, missing the “cloak” Cassian was going on about on this impromptu journey.
Your one saving grace was the view of the ring on your finger as you flew. It seemed to shine against the wind, sparking bright blue with each gust against the stone. The color warmed on your skin, a small comfort in the otherwise jarring flight. Just as quickly as you took off, Cassian deposited you on the balcony of the House of Wind. He marched forward instantly, leaving you in the dust with more questions than answers.
Now you were trapped. You shifted your weight onto your heels and accepted defeat without putting up much of a fight, rolling your eyes at Cassian’s retreating form. There was a fleeting second you considered taking the stairs back down to Velaris, but your legs were all but frozen, and you were hoping to give Cassian a piece of your mind. You had almost forgotten about your disastrous night with Azriel. That was, until your gracious sister alerted you to her soothing presence.
“I take it you figured it out?” Nesta drawled, snapping her book shut, her rigid posture hidden behind a rather tall chaise.
“Figured what out?” you tiredly sighed, rounding the room to sit beside her. You watched her eyes dart up to the ceiling in the same way Cassian’s had just minutes ago. The only difference was that hers looked markedly less confused and entirely more agitated.
“Absolutely no one listens to me in this family,” she hissed to herself before turning to you. “Do you remember when you confided in Feyre about loving Azriel?”
You reared back, gripping Nesta’s arm in alarm. “Keep your voice down. What is the matter with you? And yes, I remember confiding that in her. Something I will never do again, it seems.”
“Enough dramatics. Do you remember what she said?”
“Of course not, Nesta. That was months ago and I was half-delirious on fae wine.”
Nesta was looking up the ceiling again, counting something, maybe, or just sitting in her breaths. She jutted her jaw to the side and then dipped her finger along her neck to snag on a chain there. With a quick tug, a ring fell from behind her bodice, dangling from the gold it was looped to.
“Look,” she ordered. “I have the same ring you do. Only different in one way.”
You examined the red twining along the edges. “Okay?”
“Feyre has one as well.”
“A welcome gift?”
Nesta’s eye twitched. “Elain does not have one.” You stared blankly back at her until she stood from the chaise and took her book with her. “I swear you were not this dumb when we were children.”
“Nesta!” you called out, offence lining your tone.
Your sister did not even look over her shoulder. “If you cannot put together the pieces, save for your lack of self-worth, then I do not have the time for this. Open your eyes to how he looks at you, I swear.”
Her last words were filled with such exasperation that you felt chastised. You slumped back into the chaise and chewed on your lip, running over the jarring events of the evening. You certainly were not turned in early with a warm drink and a book as you had planned. No, instead, you were analyzing how Azriel last looked at you, using lingering crumbs to put anything together.
He had already been looking at you when you said you had a date, his gaze tracking your voice the second you opened your mouth. He always seemed to do that, so attentive in the way he listened to others. You remembered how he had started listening with rapt attention, gaze flickering down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes. There had been nothing assuming there, no expectations; he always watched you like he was simply there to listen, to be there and let you be heard.
And then you had said it, and things shifted. His expression flashed; his jaw had twitched. He had already been looking at you, but it seemed he somehow lost the sight of your face because he was quickly refocusing, brow curling uncomfortably. When you thought back on it now, he had looked… hurt? Lost? Your initial assumption was relief, but that had been a terrible conclusion. That had been an unfair judgment and you were now left wondering how many assumptions you had been making.
Because you had never really asked him, had you? You had always seen yourself as an unwanted burden he was too kind to brush off, but maybe you hadn’t been unwanted, not at first. And maybe you inserted your opinion of yourself too rashly in your relationship with Azriel. Maybe he liked the responsibility, and you thought you knew what was best for him.
Maybe you loved him too much to be selfish, and that was the problem.
Or maybe…
Could he love you? Was that the point Nesta was making with the rings?
An idiotic thought, even for you. And you were being called dumb and confused quite a lot today.
Your racing conclusions were cut off by yet another presence entering your space, but this time, you knew it to be Azriel. You could hear the gentle undercurrent of his shadows and just knew it was him as if by some instinct. Steeling yourself, you turned your gaze up to meet the Shadowsinger.
And you looked at him—you stared up at him as he looked at you.
He looked strained, at odds with himself.
“Cassian said we needed to talk,” Azriel offered, this being the third time he opened his mouth to speak. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted space. I left because I thought you did.”
You didn’t move from your seat. His shadows swarmed beneath your feet, unwilling to listen to their master. “Space for what?” you almost whispered.
He raised his brows, shifting his gaze to the floor. “To think, I suppose. I’ve made you angry, done something to ruin this. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
The picture was falling apart again. You’d finally pieced something together after Nesta’s words, but this was not lining up with your conclusion. You stood, taking a few steps towards the Shadowsinger.
“Why would you think that, Az? I’m not mad at you.”
“Why would I—Y/n, you’ve been avoiding me for weeks now. You hardly speak to me unless I prompt you. You don’t stay at the House.”
“I wanted to let you have your life back,” you earnestly replied. “It’s probably what Cassian wanted us to speak about. But then… he said I was confused and maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was pushing my thoughts onto you and you didn’t want so much space.”
“I want no space,” Azriel affirmed. He took a step forward and met you in the middle of the room. “And my life—there is no life I would want back. My life now is… you are everything to me.”
That gave you pause—a stunning, all-encompassing pause. You felt your eyes widen and your mouth fall open, but nothing could stop your reaction. Several of your conclusions, your assumptions, somersaulted in your mind.
“What?” you whispered.
Azriel shook his head, reaching a tentative hand out to cup your jaw. “I’ve tried to be subtle, to go slow, but you have to know. If you’re thinking I want space from you, then I haven’t made this known enough. You know that I love you. Tell me how to show—”
“You love me?” you blurted out, lost in the soft touch on your cheek and still more alert than you’ve ever been.
Azriel’s expression morphed into hurt again. “Of course I love you. That’s why we’ve been courting. To take things slower until you were ready.”
“Courting?”
The hurt was wiped clean. Azriel’s brows came together, his next words sounding punched from his lungs. “Yes, angel. Courting. Since Starfall.”
You temporarily spun at the name, but you had no time to focus on that. “Since Starfall?” you gaped, once again offering nothing but repetition.
Still holding you in his hands, Azriel searched every inch of your face. He didn’t let you go, but you felt his grip reposition as if to ground himself. He ducked an inch lower to fully catch your wide eyes.
“Did you—not know?”
You gave the slightest shake of your head. “You never…”
The air in the room shifted again, and Azriel was clearly panicking. He bit into his lip and searched your features again, looking for something to make sense of this. It was a mirror of your last few weeks. You wanted to provide him with some comfort, but nothing came to mind.
“The ring,” Azriel finally landed on, tilting your chin up with his thumbs. “I gave it to you then. I-I told you I wanted you to keep it close, as I would keep the other piece.”
“You said that?” you asked, trying to remember his words after he had slid it on your finger. Everything had been a blur of giddiness.
“Yes. I told you it would always guide you back to me. You—I haven’t seen you take it off since. It was a courting gift.”
“I thought it was a normal gift.”
Azriel’s expression widened. “Illyrians always give it to their partners. We have it made when we meet.”
“You had this made for me when we met? In the human lands?” His nod was hurried and disjointed. “But I—I didn’t know that.”
Azriel’s panic increased. He ran his hands down from your jaw to rest at the back of your neck. “The jacket,” he quipped. “You accepted it. You wore it everywhere I took you.”
“To keep warm!” you exclaimed, feelings of hysteria taking over. “I thought you were letting me borrow it for convenience!”
“It’s a tradition—the flying cloak. Illyrian men are meant to take their partners everywhere. We guide them. The cloak goes along with that. I had it tailored into a coat for you to be more comfortable.”
Breath escaped your lungs. “Cassian called it a cloak,” you said to no one, pulling yourself out of his hands to pace the room. You moved your palm to your forehead. “Am I—am I missing anything else?”
Azriel stared back at you with a beseeching expression, hands limp at his sides. His shadows were swarming, some batting at his head, and his wings were pulled tight against his back. Not sprawled out for you to see. They were always out for you.
“Just… small things,” he spoke quietly into the air between you. “But, I had thought you knew. I thought—”
Silence blanketed the air, your pacing now taking up less room. You went one way and then the other, your hand on your chest as you tried to quell the pressure there. It was aching somewhat, but you also couldn’t catch your breath and your world was turning upside down.
So many things you had missed. So much confusion and heartache and this was all right in front of you. But how were you supposed to know? How were you meant to understand the idiosyncrasies of Illyrian traditions when you were still discovering how your ears worked, for God's sake?
Azriel loved you.
He was standing before you and telling you he loved you, that he had been loving you, and you were blind to it all. You were too caught up in your doubt and confusion to see it.
You finally stilled, fingers curling into your palms as you faced the man before you. He had been watching you, and something settled when you caught his eye—when you stopped looking like you were about to bolt.
And then realization struck him. He frowned. “But you asked about my history. You asked about my life before you.” He was grasping at straws himself, trying to find hints that maybe you knew all along. But he was not going to like this answer.
You pressed your lips together. “I was asking you about your hobbies, Azriel. I was trying to tell you to do more things you enjoyed instead of watching over me.”
“Things I enjoyed?” he almost deadpanned.
“Yes.”
“And I told you I went to pleasure houses.”
“Yes, Azriel.”
An agonized sound left him. Azriel covered his face with his hands and then moved them to his hair, tugging at the roots. “Gods, I—I am so sorry. I thought you were asking about my romantic history.”
You shrugged slightly, unable to offer anything beyond that. He couldn’t know that it had hurt beyond belief then, because it was silly to acknowledge that now. You had only been hurt because he hadn’t been yours, but that wasn’t even true. This pain and hurt had been of your own creation, spurred on by your lack of insight.
Azriel seemed to catch onto your train of thought. He cast his woes aside and leaned down to find your gaze from across the room. “This is not your fault. This is entirely my fault. I should have been clearer with my intentions. I should have known this was confusing. Nesta mentioned it, but I thought—” You pressed your nails into your hands until they hurt. “—I thought it was clear how much I adore you.”
You let out a breath, trying to release some of this tension within you. It didn’t work. Obviously it didn’t work. How were you so blind? So caught up in menial things?
The rush of hearing those words from Azriel warred with the feeling of incompetence at your confusion, leading to a silence that you didn’t realize you were maintaining. Azriel caught it, though. He caught everything when it came to you.
“Do you…” At the broken sound of hesitance in his voice, you shot your wandering gaze back to him. “Do you not want me? Is that why you’ve encouraged me to… get my life back?”
He said the last few words through gritted teeth, and everything fell apart. All of your confusion and frustration and hurt. The world felt lighter, as if you might pass out.
“Azriel, of course I want you. I have wanted you since I met you. I thought you didn’t want me,” you explained, watching the way his shoulder slumped.
“That’s insane,” he muttered.
“It wasn’t. It made sense to me. I thought I was a burden to you. I thought Rhys was making you help me.”
“I asked to help you. I begged him to let it be me.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I know,” Azriel softly replied. He found you again near the fire, taking careful steps to capture your hands in his. He raised them and kissed the ring against your skin. “I know.”
You looked at him with a fondness you reserved for when his back was turned, finally feeling free to put it on display. He winced as if it hurt him to see, and knowing what you knew now, you were sure it did. Because while you had been pining after him, he had been seeking affection. Searching for even a morsel in a one-sided relationship.
So much wasted time.
“Why have you never tried to kiss me?” you asked when he began tracing the contour of your jaw. “Perhaps that would have made things clearer.”
Azriel smiled softly, the expression a tinge forlorn. He tilted his head to gaze at you fully. “I told you—I was willing to take things as slow as you needed me to. To be subtle, even when it was hard to do so.”
“Is that why Feyre and Nesta didn’t have the… courting period?”
Azriel tucked your hair back with gentle fingers. “They had entirely different circumstances, but yes. I was doing things the more traditional way to give you more time to adjust. I didn’t want to scare you.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Will you let me start again, then? Let me show you how I love you?”
You were going to say yes. Even so, you reminded him, “I’ve been so confused, Azriel.”
“I know,” he whispered again, his nose now nudging yours. “I know and I want to fix it. Let me fix it.”
You placed your hand over his heart, the ring on your finger clicking against his siphon. “Okay,” you whispered.
And he kissed you, then.
Your chest lit up with a foreign glow, and he kissed you harder.
Following the events of yours and the Shadowsinger’s tryst, you face a myriad of new revelations: a mating bond and mating frenzy included.
Pairing: Azriel x f!reader
Word Count: 8.8k
Warnings: eventual smut, p in v, fingering, oral (m&f), slight choking, rough sex, wing play, shadow play, lil bit of submissive Az, downright mating frenzy filth
A/N: I didn’t have ANY plans on making a sequel until @garricktavisfanclub requested one and suddenly…the idea didn’t sound so bad. So please enjoy some mating frenzy Az. 🤭
The hot sun beat down on your skin, despite the early hour.
Sweat trickled down your forehead at both the temperature and the fact that you’d been moving your body endlessly for the last ninety minutes.
Training was well underway and you hadn’t stopped since Cassian had started barking out different orders for your warm up exercises. Your three friends had been beside you, doing them with you with just as much determination as you’d felt.
Now, you were practicing strikes with a real blade, running through all the maneuvers of the eight pointed star you’d been taught.
You were still a tad behind Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie, but you were so much more advanced now than you’d been only a month before. Your biggest accomplishment had been nailing each and every maneuver of sword strikes—first with the practice sword and now with the real thing.
It’d taken some time to get used to the weight of the real blade, especially while performing the moves you now knew by heart. But, you’d progressed so much that soon you’d be able to rejoin your friends in their lessons.
“Perfect. Give me a combination of block one, slice three, thrust two.”
Where it had once seemed to be impossible to keep up with the rapid fire commands barked at you, your body now knew the moves before your mind even fully processed them.
You executed the challenging combination absolutely perfectly, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. If there’d been anything mid-air to shred, it would’ve been left in ribbons.
“Block one. Slice three. Thrust one.”
Your mind filtered out anything else other than concentration on the moves as your body fluidly hit each and every movement. Sweat slid down your spine, beneath your leathers, but you didn’t let it distract you.
“Block three. Slice two. Block two.”
You performed each and every maneuver that Cassian called out to you, finally lowering your blade when you finished. Your chest was heaving, heart racing and it felt good.
“Good,” Cassian emphasized, pride shining on his face.
You were pushing yourself hard today, harder than usual and you could tell the others had noticed.
Part of it was determination. Part of it was from…other sources.
Nesta had taken a break to watch you—everyone had apparently. The entire ring was filled with your friends and the priestesses watching you. They all looked varying shades of proud, your friends beaming the hardest. You felt the surge of pride in your chest too.
Now, you saw why Nesta had said it felt so powerful to be able to hone such skills.
The female had moved to get you a cup of water and brought it to you, noticing your extremely flushed face, skin slick with sweat. Maybe it was a good idea to slow down a little bit right about now.
“Are you alright?” she murmured to you when she’d approached with the water, “You seem slightly on edge.”
“Fine,” you said tensely, taking the water graciously, slugging it down.
You’d felt the deep seated need—the urge really—to move your body lately. You knew exactly what it was, too. The need to excel energy in a way you weren’t capable of doing right now, even if your body screamed for it.
Your skin felt like it was on fire, buzzing too much, too aware of every sensation. The craving went so deep inside you, you couldn’t have willed it away if you’d tried.
For that was the mating bond roaring in your head making you feel and act half crazy.
Your mate had been gone for nearly a week.
Your mate. It still sounded so odd to you.
You weren’t used to it—still shocked by the revelation. The entire week you’d felt like you could peel the skin from your body.
Three weeks after Nesta’s sleepover invitation where Azriel had rocked your world, life had gone on with no other advancements from the Illyrian. You’d started to feel embarrassed and ashamed for thinking that he had meant his words of next time, afterwards, when it was clear that it was just him talking through the daze of post orgasm.
It was just something that had been said in the heat of the moment and he hadn’t truly had any intention of seeking you out again.
It’d been almost three weeks to the day of the night in question when Nesta and Cassian had kindly invited you to family dinner at the River House. You had accepted, having heard Elain made wonderful dinners—and it sure sounded better than returning to your lonely apartment.
You’d promised yourself you’d try not to act awkward around the shadowsinger, no matter what had happened between the two of you.
After all, you saw him every day at training and he’d managed to remain professional and respectful, so you figured you could offer the same courtesy.
It had hit you like a lightning bolt—the mating bond, that is.
It had been before dinner when everyone was milling about. You’d been sitting next to the fire with Nesta chatting, Az across the room with Rhysand and Cassian, discussing something. It could’ve been court related, it could’ve just been idle chatter, but your eyes had still felt drawn to the shadowsinger, sliding across the room to find him.
You’d felt keenly aware of his presence despite him being a good distance away.
But it was only when your eyes found his, when his hazel ones had lifted to meet yours when you’d felt a zap. Not just from his intense stare, but one that felt like the stone door to your heart had slammed wide open, ready to receive the truth that you were just now privy to.
You still couldn’t describe it, couldn’t explain how suddenly everything in the world made sense, felt right. How it had felt like you’d never been complete until that moment.
Because in that suspended moment, it hit you like a stone to the head.
You were staring at your mate.
Azriel was your mate.
“Notice how you feel like you’re made for me?”
The remark he’d whispered to you while he moved inside you three weeks ago floated through your head as your eyes stayed locked on his.
He’d been closer to the truth than he’d even realized.
You felt like you’d stopped breathing as you were lost in his stare. You weren’t completely sure if he’d felt it too, but you thought you’d seen his eyes widen slightly—it could’ve just been your imagination though.
You had no idea how you made it through the dinner and you barely tasted the food that Elain and the half wraith twins—Nuala and Cerridwen—had prepared. Which was a shame because everything looked and smelled amazing. All you could focus on was the male you were now even more hyper aware of, across the table and down a few seats from you.
You’d gripped your fork so tightly you were amazed it hadn’t bent in half.
When you’d had to call his name—to get his attention and ask him to pass the rolls—you swore he’d almost dropped the glass in his hand at the sound of his name on your lips.
That had only been a week ago. You hadn’t had time to really process or even talk to him before he’d had to head out for a mission Rhysand needed him for, pronto.
In the months following the death of Briallyn, there was stirring activity from the remaining mortal queens and Rhysand wanted intel on them—wanted Az to find out as much information as he could. There wasn’t any inclination that trouble was brewing, but knowing your High Lord, you knew he liked to stay a few steps ahead of others as much as possible.
He’d been gone for six days.
You’d asked Cassian every day when Azriel was coming back and you were sure every day you asked, the more it raised his suspicions.
“You don’t look fine,” Nesta pushed.
You cut her a glare but her brow only raised.
“Is there any reason you’ve asked Cassian every day when Az will be back?”
You had no idea if your friend was aware of what had taken place between you and Azriel—the sex or the mating bond. Likely she knew about the first considering you were significantly glowier the next day, according to her.
But knowing Nesta Archeron, she knew. She was definitely suspicious about what was going on with you recently, too.
You shrugged at her question.
“I’m sure the priestesses miss him.”
“Me and Cassian have been talking about how strange you’ve been acting,” she hummed, folding her arms across her chest.
“Shouldn’t we be getting back to practice?” you asked, still finishing up your water.
“Finish your water and we can,” she said, pointing to your cup.
Meaning it would provide her enough time to ask more questions.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard, like you’re trying to outrun something. I recognize that.”
You gulped down another swallow of water, your friend too close to the truth for your comfort.
“Right after I accepted the mating bond with Cassian,” Nesta continued on, “After we consummated it.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you muttered.
Nesta just hummed and gave you a knowing look.
“It’s okay. Just know I’m here if and when you’re ready to talk. Alright?”
Her voice had lost the teasing tone to it, turning a shade more gentle, more serious.
You knew good and well you wouldn’t have to tell her anyways, she probably already had figured it out. For some odd reason, you felt on the verge of tears.
Your body was screaming for Azriel—in more ways than one—but most importantly because it felt like you were missing a limb. You’d felt restless, off kilter, uneasy for six whole days.
You were about to go crazy.
Not to mention the more physical urges that’d awoken in you. You’d spent too many nights remembering and picturing your night spent with Az.
Too many instances here lately where you’d found your hand between your legs, thinking of him. Which made you feel ashamed because you didn’t even know if he felt the same for you, if he even wanted this bond.
That was another added complication. You had no idea where you stood.
Right now, crying sounded the best.
But, instead, you looked your best friend straight in the eye, attempting to refocus your attention on the rest of today’s training session. You just nodded your thanks and Nesta’s voice was the softest you’d ever thought you’d heard it when she spoke, taking the empty cup from your hands.
“It’ll get better soon.”
•••
AZRIEL
He’d been on edge for six days.
She was his mate and he hadn’t even gotten to say anything to her, hadn’t even gotten to tell her bye before he was flying off to the continent.
His body buzzed with need so strong it sat his teeth on edge.
He hadn’t seen it coming at all.
It was no secret between him and his brothers that he’d wanted a mating bond, even if he’d never said it aloud. He kind of assumed they’d figured his continued aloofness and distancing himself here lately had to do with being surrounded by mating bonds everywhere.
He hadn’t even noticed her at first when she first started training.
Well, that was a lie. He’d seen her and knew she was a friend of Nesta’s, but hadn’t thought much more past the fact she was another female training with them every morning.
But then he’d started feeling drawn to her—and if he were honest, he had from the very moment he’d laid eyes on her. He remembered a brief, faint flicker of curiosity when he’d first seen the female, but hadn’t much registered it until all these months later.
He’d been too deep in loneliness and self-loathing for it to have as big of an impact on him as it might’ve normally would’ve. He’d even found his eyes finding her every now and then during those early morning training sessions, even as he instructed his own group of females.
She was beautiful, there was no denying that.
Azriel had simply chalked it up to attraction and nothing more.
Until that night a month ago, when he was returning from another mission, similar to today and a nosy little wisp of a shadow had gone snooping. That little bit of information had changed everything and set them on this path.
Az wondered a lot during this week what would’ve happened if they hadn’t acted on that mutual attraction, when and if the bond would’ve snapped as soon as it did.
He’d spent the week trying to keep as busy as possible and tried not to think of all the noises he’d evoked from her. The way she’d writhed and begged, said his name. Just the thought of her had him aching with need, his cock aching just as badly.
Once, he’d practically pumped himself dry to thoughts of her, her name burning on his tongue as he came all over his hand—three times that night.
The worst thing was, he couldn’t just come back and claim her. They weren’t anything, at least he didn’t think. They’d had sex once. Albeit, amazing sex, but did she even want to be his mate?
They had so much they needed to talk over.
He wasn’t proud to say that he’d rather just be buried in her instead but Cauldron damn him, he was about to go insane.
From the moment his eyes had met hers that night a week ago—when the bond had slammed into him like a physical blow—he’d been suffering.
Beyond the normal surety of her—just knowing she was his—all he could focus on was the intense need to claim her. To touch her, smell her, taste her. It was overwhelming.
It was stiflingly hot today and it wasn’t just from his constant state of arousal, but the weather sure didn’t help matters any.
He was nearly home and unsurprisingly the closer he got to Velaris—to the House—the more he felt his body relax. It wasn’t by much, but it was better than how he’d begun his flight.
His wings sounded with steady, thunderous beats as they carried him through the air and he felt his stomach swoop when the House’s training ring came into sight.
He was almost home—to her.
His boots landed with a thud on the stone and he was almost positive she whirled around to face him before he’d even landed.
He felt his heart lighten at the sight of her, much of the tension leaching from him. All he wanted to do was go to her and devour her, but she was in the middle of lessons, he wouldn’t disturb her.
Cassian glanced his way with a smile and a jerk of his chin in his direction.
“Welcome back Az. You look like hell.”
He was sure he did.
He heard another chorus of hellos and turned towards his usual group of priestesses who were offering up their quiet and soft greetings. He gave them a thin smile and dipped his head in acknowledgement as to not ignore them.
But he was so on edge.
Especially when he saw Cass smirking at her before he snapped his fingers in her face.
“Focus, princess.”
A low growl rumbled up his throat and he tried to smother it. But he didn’t want Cassian near her right now.
He walked over, ready to give him a piece of his mind when he heard the thud of another pair of boots from behind him and a smooth, deep male voice.
“Morning, ladies. Working hard I see.”
Az glanced over his shoulder, seeing Rhys approaching him. He’d thought he was supposed to meet his brother at the River House later this evening for the debriefing, but apparently it couldn’t wait.
His jaw clenched, fighting the natural urge to go to her. Something he was itching to do.
His shadows didn’t care about disturbing her, that’s for sure. One shot forward, curling around her ankle like a black cat. He saw her peer down at it, startled for a second before her eyes shot to his face.
“Az?”
Shit. Apparently Rhys had been talking.
There was a soft breeze to cool the hot morning air and her scent blew his way. He had to resist the urge to groan out loud. He tried hard to ignore the way his pants tightened just at her scent in his nose.
“I asked if everything went well,” Rhys repeated, “Have a nice trip back?”
“Yes.”
He offered nothing more, his eyes following his mate all the way across the training ring. Instincts he’d never had before were screaming at him and it felt almost painful to ignore their orders.
He definitely felt frayed at the edges.
“Azriel.”
He turned back to his friend and High Lord, who looked exasperated. Az took it, it wasn’t the first time Rhys had tried to get his attention again.
Az crossed his arms, trying to hide the tension in his body.
“Sorry. What?”
“I asked what you found out.”
“Not much. There hasn’t been any whispers of the remaining mortal queens. I’d say there’s still a slight chance to be worried about Koschei luring them to help him, though.”
He felt, more than saw, Rhys stiffen next to him.
Az tried to keep his eyes off her, but it was damn near impossible.
“And why is that?”
He broke his gaze away from his mate, who was practicing combinations of sword maneuvers that Cass was calling out to her.
“Because if Koschei thinks he can find a valuable ally in Briallyn—especially since she was under his influence most of the time she worked with him—it would be unwise not to consider that he would target one of them. It’s not a huge possibility, but it’s not impossible either.”
“Terrific,” Rhys sighed, “Another thing to worry about.”
“I’ve got spies on it,” Az muttered.
He could feel Rhys glancing at him sideways.
“What’s with you?”
“Nothing.”
Az’s tone was brisk, sharp and left no room for discussion.
“You’re more tense than normal and that’s saying something.”
“Leave it alone,” Az all but snapped.
He watched as she fumbled one movement, making her first mistake since he’d arrived.
“Close, but your hand slid out of position,” Azriel heard Cassian tell her, “Here, let me show you.”
He walked over, hands on hers to reposition them when then snarl broke free from Az’s throat.
“Get your hands off of her,” he snapped to which Cass’s head whipped around, surprised.
His brother looked ready to say something, but Az was already stalking forward.
“I can do it,” he muttered.
She was looking back and forth between him and Cass, hesitantly, like she’d done something wrong. But when he approached her he was gentle, respectful.
“Here,” he said, voice much softer, “You need to slide your hand down to here.”
His hand covered hers and he instantly got chills at touching her again. He tried to push away the overwhelming sensation as he repositioned her hands on the hilt of the sword so she’d have a better grip.
He also tried not to picture her delicate hands wrapped around his cock. But it didn’t help that he was sliding her hands down a very similar shaped object when his mind was already clouded with such intense thoughts, to begin with.
“Holding it like this will help you slice better and keep you from almost dropping it. Just tighten your grip and you’ll be fine.”
He hoped that last part only sounded dirty to just his mind.
Cassian was gaping at him.
Az ignored him as he backed up, with a grumble of, “Carry on.”
Rhys looked equally as baffled when he’d returned to the High Lord.
“What was that?”
Az said nothing, rolling his shoulders to try to break up the tension there, but he was practically vibrating with it. His teeth were clenched as he watched his brother carry her through more maneuvers.
He still didn’t like how close to her Cass was.
When Azriel didn’t answer him, Rhys asked the question he’d been expecting, though he heard the hesitancy in his voice.
“…Is there something going on between the two of you?”
“No.”
It wasn’t a complete lie.
“Then why are you staring daggers at Cass like he’s seconds away from asking for her hand in marriage?”
Az didn’t answer.
Rhys sighed.
“How long have you known?”
“Known what.” Az gritted out, eyes still zeroed in on the threat he perceived.
“That she’s your mate.”
Az’s eyes finally cut from the scene in front of him to Rhys. He didn’t even try to deny it.
“Since two hours before I left for this trip, last week.”
Rhys cursed.
“Cassian said something too about an evening visit last month…”
Az just cut him a look, teeth bared.
His primal senses were heightened from the bond screaming within him so it was hard to rein in the urge to punch something or someone. Preferably Cass.
“Did you fuck her?”
Az snarled in response.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Rhys crossed his arms, shaking his head.
“Let’s just hope Cass makes it through the rest of this lesson in one piece.”
He did. Make it through the lesson in one piece, that is.
Just barely though as Az paced back and forth restlessly waiting for the moment it was over so he could drag her back down the stairs and fuck the ever living sense out of her.
No, no, he needed to talk to her first. He’d have to try to do that first.
He about sprung after her the moment the females started to scatter, heading back indoors—whether into the House or down to the library again, for the priestesses.
He was getting ready to follow her inside, needing to talk to her. To touch her too if he was honest. Mother above, he just hoped he could act like a decent male for long enough as to not completely horrify her.
But then Cass stopped him, a strong hand on his arm.
“You want to explain to me why you nearly bit my head off for simply touching her?”
Az sighed.
He wasn’t going to be leaving the training ring anytime soon.
•••
You were utterly soaked with sweat after the two hours of training.
As you headed down the stairs toward the House, you decided a nice bath would be good for your sore muscles and maybe calm your burning skin.
The moment you’d heard Az’s boots thud on the ground, you’d whirled, unable to help yourself. Your chest had instantly lightened at seeing him.
His gaze had been just as intense on you.
You were taken by surprise when you’d felt the curl of one of his shadows around your ankle. It was sort of sweet, actually.
But then he’d been…weird. The way he kept glaring at Cassian, snarling, even snapping at him for touching you.
You, admittedly, didn’t know much about mating bonds other than that it was a special and desired thing. A connection that fae everywhere revered simply because your soul was connected to another. It was overwhelming. But maybe that was because everything you currently felt seemed amplified greatly.
Az was a good male. A really good male. Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron—whoever was responsible for mating bonds—clearly picked well for you.
That is, if he even wanted it. And with you.
You groaned as you rolled the leathers off your hot, sweaty and sticky skin, the bathtub already filling with warm water and a herbal scent of bath soap. The benefits of living in a sentient House. Apparently, being Nesta’s friend meant you also deserved to be spoiled by the House.
“Bless you,” you mumbled, when you were fully naked, stepping into the warm water.
You sank down with a sigh, luxuriating in the feel.
You’d grown to love and appreciate, even look forward to training, but more times than not, you bathed at the House before leaving for the day. It never seemed to be an issue for Nesta and Cassian that you did so—considering this was their home—and it provided you with some time to unwind and ease your mind.
You tried not to think of the days this week that you’d spent a little extra time in the bathtub, hand slipping between your legs, imagining Az there with you. In the tub with you.
Your cheeks reddened at the thought, embarrassed at even the memories.
It had only been one time. Being his mate might not even mean anything to him.
But gods, had your body been craving him so badly.
You pushed the thoughts of the Illyrian aside, taking the bar of soap, running it over your wet skin.
After thoroughly washing every part of your body, you grabbed a bottle of shampoo that had appeared on the ledge. You took a deep breath, holding it, as you slid under the surface of the water enough to fully wet your lengths of hair.
You’d just resurfaced—shampoo bottle in hand—and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Azriel standing in the doorway. He was leaning in the doorway, looking tense, arms crossed, shoulder against the doorframe.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” his lips twitched.
“You’re back,” you said stupidly, because obviously he was, you’d already seen him.
“I am.”
You bit your lip, unsure if you should admit how much you’d missed him.
“Would you like some help?” he motioned to the bottle of shampoo in your hand.
You looked down before glancing back up at him.
“I’d like that.”
He walked in the room and you swallowed hard, your body alighting with his powerful, tall presence. You could feel your skin tingling, anticipating the feel of his hands, gentle in your hair.
You were going to lose your mind because of him.
He stopped behind you at the end of the tub and reached down, taking the small bottle in his hands. His fingers brushed yours and goosebumps broke out over your skin, your nipples pebbling just under the surface of the water.
You chastised yourself mentally as you shifted slightly, feeling a familiar ache developing between your legs. All he’d done was barely touch you and you were having this reaction to the male.
Behind you, you heard the cap unscrew as he undoubtedly poured some of the fragrant concoction into his hands, bringing them to your wet locks. He massaged gently, lathering it, fingers gentle against your scalp.
You moaned, head falling back towards his touch.
You heard him shuffle behind you as he kneeled behind the tub to work the lather into your hair.
“Feel good?”
Was it just you or did his voice sound a tad shaky?
“Yes. So good,” you moaned.
You’d been so desperate for his touch that even this had arousal stirring.
“I’m glad,” he murmured, working the shampoo down the length of your hair.
It was then that he bent, close enough that his lips brushed your neck. You shivered at the touch.
“Did the spying go well?” you croaked.
He hummed, nose brushing your damp cheek before he kissed your neck again.
“It did.”
“I’m…glad,” you rasped out, finding it difficult to form words.
Not with his close proximity, with his body so warm against yours, his hands on you, the scent of him—night chilled mist and cedar—filling your senses.
He said your name, low and ragged. You had to bite back a whimper at his gravelly tone.
“Yes?”
He said nothing as he finished running the shampoo through your hair. You made sure to make quick work of dipping under the water again, scrubbing the suds from your hair. When your head broke through the water again, you wasted no time, immediately standing in the large tub.
Water sluiced down your body in rivulets, your wet hair sticking to your torso just enough to cover, but not by much, considering your hardened nipples still poked through your hair.
You were on full display for him and it should’ve made you nervous, self conscious, but instead, it sent a thrill through you. Especially at the way he was looking at you.
“We really need to talk,” you insisted, but it sounded weak to even your ears.
“We do,” he ground out out, eyes taking in your naked form.
“You’re my mate.”
“Yes.”
His eyes didn’t stray from your body, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow.
“And you felt it too.”
“Yes.”
You hadn’t made an effort to move but he stood from where he’d knelt, approaching you. He walked over to the side of the tub, right in front of you, just on the opposite, dry side. Your eyes followed his every movement.
“I realize we really need to talk, but I truly cannot focus when you’re naked.”
His voice was guttural, pained, like he was being tortured by the sight of you like this.
You would’ve laughed at his honesty if you hadn’t felt like you were seconds away from jumping him, yourself.
“We talk later then,” you said, a tad breathlessly.
“Talk later,” he nodded, seeming just as dazed.
With that declaration, he surged forward, not seeming to care if you were still in the tub or that you were dripping wet. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours.
Relief was nearly immediate, the sense of calm and rightness settling over you like a warm cloak as his lips moved against yours. He groaned against your lips, hands gliding along your wet skin giving you goosebumps.
Before you realized what was happening, he’d lifted you from the tub, the splash of the disrupted water sounding loud in the quiet room. Your legs wrapped around his waist, water soaking his leathers but he held onto you tighter, arms hooked under your legs as he walked you back to the bedroom.
Your lips traced his jaw as he walked the two of you to the bed, your hands resting on his shoulders.
“Az,” you whimpered, not even sure why.
“Right here,” he murmured, finally setting you down against the sheets.
They stuck to your damp skin and the cool air chilled you as it hit your bare body.
Your breathing quickened as you watched him join you on the bed, crawling over you. Before you could say anything, his head dipped and his lips were hot on yours again.
You moaned lightly into it, your legs naturally parting for him to lay between.
The kiss was hot, heated, full of desperation and longing. His mouth moved rapidly over yours as he pressed against your body as close as he could get. Your hands clung to his shoulders, moving forward, trying to pull his leathers off him—even if it meant you had to claw through the leather material with your nails alone.
His mouth dropped to your jaw, sucking harshly, moving further south to nip along your throat.
He pressed against you just like he had that night in the hallway, his arousal pressing against your cunt. The only thing between you both being the leather of his pants. You moaned at the touch, hips canting to rub against him continuously.
You were about half out of your mind that you wanted him to take you in every position he could think of. You wanted to rub your naked body against him, against all those strong muscles, wanted to lick, to bite him.
You were positively feral, acting like a bitch in heat if the way you were actually dripping down your thighs was any indicator.
“Az, fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you gasped, arching into him the more he pressed against you.
He growled against your throat.
“Sweet girl, I’ve been thinking of this all week”
“Yeah?” you panted, breathing uneven.
He pressed up against you again and you nearly went breathless. You wanted that cock deep in you until you were screaming.
“It’s—” he panted, kissing down to your chest, “The bond.”
“Wh-What?” you stuttered, trying to breathe normally.
It was almost impossible to breathe with the way he was pressed against you, mouth on you, stoking heat in you. You needed him so badly you were practically drooling—from your mouth and cunt both.
You tugged at the edge of his shirt again.
“Off. Off,” you panted and whined, desperately.
He sat back, whipping it off faster than you could blink.
You were met with golden brown skin and hardened muscle, the dark Illyrian tattoos on his arms swirling and enticing, making you want to trace the patterns with your fingers. Another time though, not right now, that is.
You reached for him, but he was already moving away, his hands coming up to grab your breasts as he kissed down your stomach. You groaned, arching into his palms, the roughness of them providing friction to your puckered nipples and driving you wilder.
“Azriel,” you whined, the emphasis on his name making you sound even needier.
He groaned against your skin, mumbling, “I love how eager you sound for me.”
Eager was probably an understatement.
He wasted no time as his mouth neared your throbbing core, lifting two fingers and pushing them into you without any warning.
You moaned loudly almost sensitive from your prolonged arousal. Maybe because you’d felt like this for six days without much relief.
“Gods, you’re so wet,” he mumbled, licking over your hip bone.
You couldn’t form words in the slightest, your hips shifting to push his fingers deeper. It was like the moment your lips had touched his in the bath just minutes earlier, something wild had been unleashed in you.
Your hips rocked against his hand as his fingers slid in and out of you.
“I told you last time I’d take my time with you, but fuck, sweet girl, I just want to be inside you.”
His tone was gravelly, pained, as if he too had been suffering all week.
“Wouldn’t—” you gasped, hips still shifting, “be—opposed to that.”
You were panting, barely stringing words together. You felt like you’d lost all good sense, your mind spiraling and focused on nothing but Azriel. His fingers inside you, the fact in a few minutes his cock would be inside of you.
His fingers curled and he looked up at you with such a sly, seductive look on his face you tightened instantly around his fingers. He groaned, feeling it.
His eyes never left yours as his fingers left you, only to be replaced by his tongue.
He licked one torturous line along your slick folds, pausing to flick your clit. You cried out, hand flying down to slide into his dark locks.
You probably sounded downright debauched as noisy as you already were.
“As sweet as I imagined,” he mumbled.
His tongue was teasing, licking everywhere but where you wanted him, circling your entrance. You opened your mouth to beg before he plunged it inside you.
Your back nearly bowed off the bed at the feeling—and he hadn’t even brought you to orgasm yet, that was just how wild you were for him right now. A loud, filthy moan fell from your lips as you ground against his mouth.
You had a fleeting thought that you had never realized he would be this talented with his mouth, either.
You felt the vibrations of his moan against your cunt as he licked into you and drove his tongue into you repeatedly. You started when you realized that wasn’t the only sensation you were feeling.
A nearly icy chill roamed your body and you realized it was his shadows as they brushed against your nipples, brushed over your clit just enough to give you even more pleasure. You whimpered, squirming from all their ministrations.
He licked a path from where he’d just been, to your clit, flicking it again. You inhaled sharply feeling two of his thick fingers press into you again as his mouth closed around the sensitive bud.
“Az, gods, Az,” you whimpered, trying to press closer to his mouth.
His other hand pushed your hips down, holding them firmly against the bed.
He was absolutely relentless, fingers pumping and curling, tongue flicking and pressing. You could feel the tingle of release starting deep, rising quicker than you expected as he kept up the deadly duo of movements.
His fingers curled once more in combination with a suck on your clit and you were absolutely exploding beneath him.
Your fingers dug into his hair as your moans bounced off the walls of your room, hips tilted into his mouth, his fingers. Pleasure shot from your core into your whole body and you trembled as he didn’t let up until he was positive he’d wrung every last ounce of your orgasm from you.
You were panting, body still buzzing when he pulled his fingers and mouth from you with a devious smile. He looked ready to eat you alive and you were ready to be devoured.
“You could bring a male to his knees with how sweet you sound when you come,” he murmured.
You sat up as quickly as possible, connecting your lips to his as your fingers busied themselves with removing his pants. As he kissed you, his fingers aided yours until he was pushing his pants down his hips.
Az broke the kiss long enough to stand, ridding of the article and as he stood up, pushing the rest of the clothes from his body. You didn’t even give him a chance to rejoin you on the bed before your hand was wrapping around his cock, sliding along it.
He hissed, hips bucking into your hand but you gave him no reprieve as you leaned down, licking along the length of his cock.
You were out of control, practically pawing at him at this point and you didn’t even care. Clearly he didn’t either as he groaned your name, threading his fingers in your hair,
It was a miracle he gave you all of thirty seconds to move your mouth on his cock, sucking and tongue swirling before he was pulling you off.
You momentarily pouted, wanting to repay the favor but the look on his face had you trembling with anticipation.
“I need to be inside you,” he practically whined.
Fuck, you needed that too.
You were momentarily speechless, nodding emphatically, trying to convey your desire for that too.
You wouldn’t have been exaggerating by much if you said Azriel nearly tackled you back on the bed. One moment he was standing, the next, your back was flush against the mattress again, Az hovering over you—one hand on your cheek, caressing it with a gentleness that his kiss did not convey.
You whimpered into it as you felt his hips press into yours, the head of his cock nudging your entrance. Your legs caged his hips, trying to press him closer as you rubbed against his cock.
He growled, pulling away so he could look down into your face.
Two things happened at once.
First, he pushed into you in one, rough, delicious movement, making you gasp at the sudden and intense intrusion.
Secondly, at the same moment, your hands were pulled from his body. Well, no, it was more like your arms.
You’d felt the cold, biting chill a second too late as your arms were flung over your head, flat against the bed and bound by his shadows.
“Az,” you whimpered, tugging at the restraints.
But it was useless. Not only were your wrists bound together, but his shadows held them to the bed so you couldn’t even lift your arms.
“No fair,” you whined, hips already moving with his.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “You can have me however you want after this, just need you so badly, sweet girl.”
His hands gripped your hips, his pace already hard and relentless from the start. Your bodies rocked with each of his thrusts, each time his cock hitting deeper and making you mewl.
“Gods, fuck,” you panted, already overwhelmed.
But you needed this. Needed more.
It was fast, hard and so incredibly hot.
Az was already groaning, sounding as wrecked as you were. Clearly, you’d both been desperate for this for too long.
One of his hands gripped your thigh, pulling your leg higher on his waist as his hips pistoned into you, his thrusts rough and punishing. You couldn’t have kept quiet to save your life, truth be told.
He was everywhere at once, lips hot against your throat, your head bent back into the pillow, a moaning mess.
“Feel so good, my good girl,” he grunted.
You whined again, tugging at your restraints.
“Az, please,” you begged, “I want to touch you.”
“Not yet,” he ground out, hips grinding down, immediately shutting you up with a moan in place of your complaint.
You both were spiraling quickly, approaching the mind blowing pleasure you knew was soon to come.
The hand not holding your leg slid up your torso, up your chest and settled at your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat. You could see the heat in his gaze, but saw enough to know he was questioning if this was okay.
You positively whimpered when his fingers tightened just slightly and he growled, hips snapping into yours, harder.
You were completely at his mercy, but you couldn’t help but wish you weren’t bound so you could scratch his shoulders, hold his hand tighter against your throat, anything.
“Az,” you gasped, so overwhelmed, but in the best way.
Every time his fingers tightened, your cunt tightened around him. His guttural groans nearly made your eyes roll back in your head.
Pressure was building within you and you had become a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him, wrists still straining against his shadows.
“Please, please,” you begged.
It felt like each time he pulled out, he thrust back in harder, rocking you—and the bed—with the force of his movements.
“Come on, you can take it, can take me.”
You were rising higher and higher, not sure how much more you would be able to handle of him.
His hand fell from your throat, dipping between the two of you, circling your clit. It took very few movements before you were absolutely screaming as you came around him.
You felt the strain of the shadows as your body arced off the bed—like they were pining you down with all their force—their cool touch almost painfully cold the harder they bound your wrists together. Your body shook as your vision whited and your brain nearly melted by the pleasure that Azriel was provoking.
“Oh fuck, fuck!”
His outbursts were raw and filled with his current blissed out state.
“Az,” you gasped, still amidst your own orgasm, unable to control anything let alone your mouth, “Come for me, Az.”
He didn’t disappoint, his head tilting forward, rogue strands of his dark hair falling over his forehead, his body tensing—something you could feel beneath the legs still wrapped around his waist.
Through your own bleariness you could see his wings twitching behind him before they burst open fully as he came with a growl so deep it had your eyes squeezing shut at the erotic sound. His lips brushed your chest, then your throat as he kept working himself into you, riding out every last bit of both yours and his orgasms as he finished filling you.
The moment he stilled, the shadows dissipated from your wrists, sliding back to their master.
You couldn’t move them for a moment, your body still feeling wrung out, even though you had a deep craving for more. A craving that was getting stronger with each passing second.
Your chest rose and fell and you laid there, under your mate, arms still over your head like you were still bound there. You saw the instant concern in his eyes as he pulled out of you.
“You okay?” he asked, sounding just as ruined as you felt.
You didn’t know if it was because of the overstimulation but your chin trembled—not from impending tears, but the deep ache that wasn’t going away. The way you felt you needed him again, needed to do things to him you couldn’t even express, to even satiate your need.
“You didn’t let me touch you,” you whimpered.
He sat back, pulling you up with him. His hand dove into your hair, pulling you into another kiss.
You’d have thought he was too tired. Hell, you’d have figured you were too tired, but the moment his lips pressed hot against yours, you felt the stirring of arousal almost instantly.
“You’re free to touch me as much as you want, love.”
“Good because I still need you,” you groaned, climbing into his lap.
“Glad I’m not alone.”
Your lips were hot on his jaw and he helped position you. You couldn’t resist the urge to drag your cunt over his quickly hardening cock. He groaned, face falling into the crook of your neck before you’d even sunk down on him.
“Touch me all you want,” he pleaded, “I’m desperate for it.”
Your hands roamed his chest, over his shoulders as he lifted you enough to sink back down on him.
He was immediately groaning at your cunt welcoming him back, even if it had been less than five minutes. You pushed him back, his arms falling from your waist, his elbows landing on the bed to catch himself.
He wasn’t completely laying down, but was laying back enough for you to take complete control like you were dying to. Propped up on his elbows, he watched you with lidded eyes as you moved on him, rising and falling on his cock, your hands balanced on his chest.
“I could get used to this sight,” he murmured, dazed.
“Good because I think it’s time for you to beg,” you bit your lip as your hips moved.
In response, his hips thrust upwards to meet you and your head tilted back with a loud moan.
“I’d beg for you any day, love.”
You groaned aloud at his words.
“Can’t believe you did that,” you ground out, quite literally grinding your hips against his, “Not let me touch you.”
His smirk was devilish and so incredibly sexy that you had to stifle the moan that crawled up your throat at the sight. Balancing his weight on one arm, he reached up with one hand, thumb brushing your swollen and bruised lower lip.
“You’re so pretty when you beg.”
You shivered at his words, a direct repeat of what he’d said last time, too.
“And you’re lethal,” you moaned, still moving on him.
“Never claimed not to be.”
Az looked smug and you slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Shut up and let me fuck you.”
He groaned at your dominance, head falling back. Your hand fell and you took the opportunity to lurch forward, mouth hot on his neck, his throat, nipping. Your teeth scraped over his pulse point and he growled so deeply, you felt the vibrations against your mouth.
Your hips rocked against his, aiding in his cock hitting the perfect spot within you each time. Your thighs were burning and trembling, but you didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think you could.
The hunger for him was so intense that you didn’t know if you could survive it. You lifted up off his cock just enough to slam down roughly, your mind spiraling in the haze of desire and his whimpered moans made you involuntarily clench around him harder.
“Touch me. Sweet girl, touch me.”
His begging made you feel powerful and you bit back a smirk as your hips slowed in his lap and he actually whimpered.
Whimpered.
“I think you can beg better than that,” you taunted.
“Gods, please,” he groaned, “Please, sweet girl.”
You bit your lip, keeping up the slow rhythm.
“Tell me where and maybe I will.”
“Anywhere.”
He tried to sit up and reach for your hips and you slapped his hand away.
“Tell me something or else I won’t.”
His voice was ragged, raspy, so desperate it made your entire body buzz with tension, with desire.
“My—My wings,” he stuttered.
Your eyes lit at the command.
You were gonna have fun with this.
You finally allowed him to sit again, wrapping those muscled arms around you and pulling you close to him. Your eyes took in those powerful wings, the dark black leathery look to them.
You knew from a brief feel last time, they felt like cool silk under your fingertips. The silkiness of them gave you goosebumps—likely as much as it did him when you touched them.
His hands rested on your hips moving you back and forth on him faster and you reached an arm out towards one of his wings.
With your pointer finger, you ran it down the inner edge of his wing and you felt his cock twitch inside you in reaction. You smirked, absolutely delighted at the reaction.
“Feel good?” you murmured sweetly.
“Y-Yes,” he whimpered.
You clenched tightly around him at that.
You got braver, moving inward a few inches, two fingers stroking down the velvety wing. Not only did his wing twitch—and the more obvious, once again, inside you—but his whole body reacted this time.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned out, shuddering, “Sweetheart, you’ll be the death of me.”
You hummed, wanting to send him over the edge, your own release rapidly approaching.
Likely sensing it too, his thumb landed at the apex of your thighs.
“You’re coming with me,” you ordered, more of a moan than a statement.
You were close, could feel the impending release on the horizon as you moved faster, harder on him, his touch matching your movements. With one last stroke of your fingers along the edge of his wing, he was falling apart beneath you.
He came with such a ferocious growl, it inevitably sent you over the edge as you clamped down around him. Your back arched, your body pressed fully against his muscled frame as your cry of absolute pleasure tore from your throat. Your arm was still extended over his shoulder as you kept moving on his cock.
You felt him pulse within you as he spilled into you, the slight warming sensation making you whimper pitifully, enjoying every moment of it. His face dipped, bringing your lips to his as your body finally slowed, his hands sliding from your hips up your back.
When you finally pulled away for breath, your brow coated with sweat, your breathing uneven, you just stared at him in awe.
“Didn’t think you had that in you,” he smirked, voice low, tired.
“I didn’t know you could whimper,” you retorted.
His laughter was soft, his touch even softer as he brushed a knuckle down your cheek.
You felt insanely dazed, trying to regain your senses as you stared at his face, taking in the truth. You felt a strange sense in your chest, sort of like a tether just waiting for its…well its mate. You took him in, the beautiful face, golden brown skin and hazel eyes that were so incredibly soft right now as they gazed back at you. It made you realize something.
You wanted this.
You wanted Az as your mate, wholeheartedly.
Something in the corner of your eye caught your attention and you looked over, eyes widening at the sight.
The numerous pillows that’d started on the bed were now scattered on the floor from all your frenetic scrambling and movement on the bed. The covers of the bed were half on the floor, as well, from the enthusiastic and frenzied way the two of you had devoured one another.
You looked around as you tried to catch your breath, still in his lap, his cock still nestled inside of you.
“I think…we made…quite a mess,” you panted.
“Not sorry,” he grinned, roguishly.
That hunger was still there, deep down, but for the time being was quiet enough for you to catch your breath. You already felt sore in every single muscle, but you’d had worse from training, you knew you’d manage.
Your eyes locked with his and you felt your heart flutter.
“Hello, mate,” you grinned, still a bit disbelievingly.
He smiled, leaning forward to nuzzle your neck, mumbling at how he was the luckiest male alive.
“That’s it. Rhys can find another spymaster, I quit. I’m never leaving again.”
Your laughter was bright, happy, a weight from this last week having lifted from your chest.
His smirk was wolfish when he pulled back to look at you.
“So, can I interest in you in another round, mate?”
Tag List: @harvest-bunny @garricktavisfanclub @kittiness12 @smol-grandpa @bxm-2121 @less-spice @alexof90s @seasonallyapril
Being overlooked, being forgotten, being cast aside—these were not new feelings to me.
They were old companions, familiar as breathing, quiet as shadows. I had lived in their company my entire life.
As the youngest Archeron sister, I was the one who slipped through the cracks. Feyre was our family's saviour, Nesta was its fury, Elain was its gentle heart.
And I... I was simply what remained.
There was never anything particularly special about me. Nothing I excelled at, nothing I was destined for, no great power that whispered my name.
While my sisters burned like stars, I was the empty stretch of sky between them—unnoticed unless someone was looking for something else.
Feyre had Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful High Lord in history. She was High Lady, Cursebreaker, Defender of Velaris, beloved by an entire court and feared by the rest of Prythian.
Nesta had Cassian, the Lord of Bloodshed, general of the Night Court armies. She was a Valkyrie, Lady Death, a force of nature wrapped in silver fire and unbreakable will.
Elain had Lucien, clever, patient, endlessly devoted. She was a Seer, a dreamer who saw things no one else could, the one who helped bring down a king.
Each of my sisters had a story written in legend, in power, in love.
And I was just... there.
No titles. No great powers. No mate. No destiny anyone spoke of. Just the fourth Archeron sister that people sometimes forgot to mention.
Even the Cauldron, in all its terrible power, had not seen fit to give me anything.
When I was thrown into that dark, endless water, I remember the cold most of all, cold that sank into my bones, into my heart, into places I did not know existed.
I remember screaming, and no one hearing. I remember sinking, and thinking that perhaps this was all I would ever be, forgotten even by magic itself.
When I came out, everyone looked at my sisters in awe, in fear, in wonder.
No one looked at me for long.
The Cauldron had given them gifts. Power. Sight. Flame and death and visions of the future.
It had given me nothing. Only nightmares. Cold water. And the quiet, unshakable feeling that I was meant to be nobody.
And perhaps the worst part was not that others believed it.
It was that, somewhere along the way, I had started to believe it too.
Tonight, the nightmare was worse than usual.
Cold water closed over my head, thick and endless, swallowing every sound, every breath, every scream. Hands, faceless, shapeless, dragged me down into the dark, pulling at my arms, my hair, my dress.
My lungs burned, my chest heaved, but there was no air, no light, no surface to swim toward.
Only falling. Falling and falling and falling—
I woke with a sharp gasp, bolting upright in the bed as if I had truly been drowning. The sheets were tangled around my legs, twisted like grasping hands, and my heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Sweat clung to my skin, cold and uncomfortable, and for a moment I didn't know where I was, whether I was still in that black water or in my room in the Townhouse.
A loud, startled meow snapped me fully back into the room.
Nova.
My black cat had been asleep beside me, curled into a warm little ball near my pillow, but now she stood with her back arched slightly, wide green eyes fixed on me as she meowed again, louder this time, as if scolding me for frightening her.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice hoarse as I reached out to pet her.
Her fur was soft beneath my fingers, warm and real, and she immediately pushed her head into my hand, purring as if she could chase the nightmare away by sound alone.
I had found her months ago, not long after we were turned. She'd been small then, half-starved and hissing at anyone who came too close in a Velaris alley.
I didn't know why she had let me pick her up, why she hadn't scratched or bitten me like she had everyone else.
But she had stayed and now, months later, she was still here.
She was the only thing in my life that had stayed.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool floor. Even after all this time, this new body still felt strange sometimes, too light, too strong, too sharp in ways I didn't understand.
Like I was wearing someone else's skin and had not quite grown into it yet.
The room felt too small suddenly. Too quiet. Too full of memories I didn't want.
The balcony doors were slightly open, the night air slipping through the curtains as if it were calling me, and before I really decided to, I stood and walked toward them.
I pushed the doors open wider and stepped outside, sitting on the cool stone floor rather than one of the chairs.
The night sky stretched above Velaris, endless and dark and filled with stars that looked like scattered diamonds.
The Sidra glittered in the distance, reflecting moonlight in soft ripples.
Nova padded out after me a moment later, tail high, and settled beside me without hesitation, pressing against my leg as if she knew exactly why I had come out here.
I didn't realise I was crying until I lifted a hand to wipe at my face and felt the tears there. I wiped them away quickly, silently, like I had done a thousand times before.
And that was when I heard it.
A soft sound from above. Not loud. Not sudden. Just enough to let me know someone was there.
I froze for a moment, then slowly looked up. I already knew who it was.
He stood on the edge of the roof above the balcony, shadows curling and sliding around him like living things, his wings tucked behind him.
He didn't move at first, didn't speak, just watched to make sure I had noticed him.
Azriel. Spymaster. Shadowsinger. The quiet male who shared the Townhouse with me but somehow always felt like a ghost moving through it.
I didn't mind living with him. He kept to himself, and I kept to myself. It made sense. It was easy. Silent.
Nesta and Cassian lived at the House of Wind. Feyre and Rhysand had the River House. Elain was often travelling with Lucien.
So I was left with the Townhouse. And its Shadowsinger.
Azriel pushed off the roof and descended slowly, wings spreading slightly before he landed silently on the balcony.
I expected him to nod politely and leave, to pretend he had seen nothing, heard nothing.
Instead, he walked over and sat beside me on the stone floor, close enough that I could hear the quiet rustle of his wings as he tucked them in tighter.
"Another nightmare?" he asked quietly.
His voice was gentle, careful, as if loud words might break something fragile between us.
His shadows moved around him, slipping over the balcony railing, curling near his shoulders, sliding across the floor like curious cats.
They fascinated me and frightened me all at once.
I didn't answer. I just stared straight ahead at the city lights.
He didn't push immediately. Just sat there beside me in silence. After a moment, he sighed softly.
"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked.
I shook my head slowly, my hand moving over Nova's fur a little more insistently, grounding myself in the steady rhythm of her purring.
"It wouldn't matter anyway," I said quietly.
He turned his head slightly toward me. "Why not?"
There was no judgment in his voice. Only genuine curiosity.
I swallowed, my eyes still fixed on the city, on anything that wasn't him.
"Because I am no one," I said, the words slipping out easier than they should have. As if they had been waiting for years to be spoken aloud.
"Feyre is High Lady. Nesta is a Valkyrie. Elain is a Seer." I let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
"I am the sister the Cauldron ruined and forgot."
The words hung in the air between us. Azriel didn't respond right away.
I finally turned my head slightly and saw the look on his face, he wasn't pitying me, wasn't dismissing me.
He just looked... stunned. As if the idea had never occurred to him before.
I gave him a small, sad smile, the kind that didn't reach my eyes.
Then I stood, brushing off my nightgown slightly. Nova immediately stood as well, stretching before following at my heels like a tiny black shadow.
"Goodnight, Azriel," I said softly, and stepped back into my room.
He didn't stop me.
I climbed back into bed, Nova circling twice before curling against my side again, her purring starting almost immediately.
I stared at the ceiling for a long time, listening to the quiet of the Townhouse, to the distant sounds of Velaris, to my own breathing slowly evening out.
I didn't know when I fell asleep again. I only knew that when I did, there were no dreams.
Just quiet, empty darkness. And for once, that felt like peace.
Azriel's POV -
I watched her leave.
That was all I did. I sat there on the cold balcony floor and watched her walk back inside, Nova at her heels, the doors closing softly behind them. The curtains shifted slightly in the night breeze, then went still, as if she had never been there at all.
She returned to her bed, the same bed she woke in every single night from nightmares I could not begin to imagine.
Guilt settled into my chest like a stone.
I should have said something. I should have told her she was wrong. I should have told her she was not invisible, not forgotten, not ruined.
But I hadn't because I was a coward.
There was no softer word for it, no way to dress it up into something noble. I had faced kings and monsters, torture and war, had spilt blood and broken bones and flown into battles I knew I might not survive.
But I could not tell one female that she mattered. Coward.
She was not no one. Not to me.
From the moment I first saw her at the Archeron estate in the Mortal Lands, I had noticed her.
While the others spoke and argued and negotiated, she had stood slightly behind her sisters, quiet, observant, watching everything with eyes that missed nothing.
She had spoken the least, yet when she did, everyone had listened without realising why.
She had always been there, just slightly to the side, just out of the centre of the room. I think I was the only one who ever noticed she was standing alone.
And then the Cauldron happened.
The memory still made my hands curl into fists.
I had tried to reach her when they dragged her forward. I had tried to get to all of them but when they shoved her toward the Cauldron, something in my chest had snapped into place with terrifying certainty.
I remember the sound of her screaming. I remember the splash. I remember trying to move, to fly, to do anything—
But my wings had been shredded, hanging uselessly, my body barely able to move, my power drained from the poison in my veins.
I had watched her sink beneath that black water and had done nothing. Nothing.
And when she emerged from the Cauldron, dripping and shaking and changed forever, I felt it.
The bond.
It slammed into me so hard I nearly blacked out from it, a golden thread wrapping around my ribs, pulling tight, settling deep into my chest like it had always belonged there.
My mate.
She had looked around the room, terrified and confused and alone and I had known in that moment that the Cauldron had not forgotten her.
It had given her to me. And I had never said a word... because she deserved better.
She deserved someone bright and warm and whole. Someone who laughed easily and did not wake in the night remembering screams.
Someone who did not have blood on his hands that would never wash away. Someone who was not made of shadows and secrets and the worst parts of war.
Not a broken male. Not a monster trained to be a weapon. Not me. So I watched from a distance.
I watched her in the Townhouse when she thought no one was awake.
I watched her reading by the window, watched her fall asleep on the couch with Nova curled on her chest, watched her stare out over Velaris like she was trying to figure out where she fit in a world that had no place carved out for her.
My shadows watched her too.
They would drift back to me at night and whisper soft reports, the sound of her breathing, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, whether she was sleeping peacefully or twisting in nightmares again.
That night, after the balcony, I lay in bed listening to my shadows tell me when her breathing finally evened out into deep, dreamless sleep.
Only then did I close my eyes.
The sun had barely risen when I woke. I didn't need much sleep anymore.
Years of training, years of war, my body had learned to function on very little but that morning I had not slept much anyway.
Her words kept replaying in my head.
I am the sister the Cauldron ruined and forgot.
I knew her routine. She woke early, almost always with the sun. She liked quiet mornings when Velaris was still half-asleep, when the world wasn't loud yet.
By the time I walked into the kitchen, the scent of coffee and fresh bread filled the air.
She was already there, standing at the counter stirring her coffee slowly, staring into the cup like the answer to some question might be hidden inside it.
Nova sat on one of the chairs, tail wrapped neatly around her paws, green eyes immediately locking onto me the moment I entered the room.
We never had breakfast together intentionally but we often ended up sharing the kitchen in the mornings.
Quiet. Polite. Two individuals who lived in the same house but in different worlds.
Nova reached a small paw toward me as I walked past, tapping lightly at my hand like she expected me to stop.
I exhaled softly and reached down, running a hand over her black fur. She immediately began purring, loud and pleased with herself.
She turned slightly at the sound, glancing at us over her shoulder before looking back down at her bowl of fruit and yoghurt.
She didn't say good morning. She rarely did. But she didn't leave either.
That was something.
I stood there for a moment, petting Nova absentmindedly, trying to figure out how to say what I had not said the night before. How to fix something that had clearly been broken in her for a very long time.
I cleared my throat quietly. "You aren't ruined," I said softly.
The words felt too small the moment they left my mouth.
She froze. Slowly, she turned to look at me, her eyes wide and unblinking, like she wasn't sure she had heard me correctly.
I gave Nova one last gentle scratch under the chin, then straightened and grabbed an apple from the counter, suddenly unsure what to do with the weight of her gaze on me.
"You aren't forgotten either," I added quietly, not looking directly at her now. "Some just... don't see everything that's in front of them."
I could feel her still staring at me, but I didn't trust myself to look back.
Not when the bond in my chest was pulling so tightly it almost hurt. Not when I wanted to cross the room and pull her into my arms and tell her she was the most important person in my world.
So I turned and walked toward the door, my shadows trailing behind me like smoke.
I paused at the doorway, then said without turning around, "You are not no one."
Then I left the kitchen before she could see the truth written all over my face.
A/N - First part and we start by getting a deeper look into everything she's been carrying and how she truly feels about it all!!
We also get a little insight from Azriel's POV and let's just say there's an interesting piece of information revealed there x
This part was mainly setting the stage for what's to come—introducing the emotions, the tension, and the dynamic at play. The real story kicks off properly in the next part, and things pick up quickly from here... no more slow build-up, we're diving straight in ;)
