Hey here's an idea for a drabble how about the whole gang goes out to Rita's or something and Elain gets super drunk and Az has to take care of her?
[This is probably not what you had in mind. LOL. I apologize for nothing.]
Elain Archeron is a light weight. If you looked up the definition in the dictionary, you’d find her picture. One beer and she is toasty and warm and giggling.
She’s sitting between Feyre and Azriel in a booth at Rita’s, telling them about the birds and the bees. The literal birds and bees in her garden. Then she starts talking about Graysen. She’s long been over him, but since they’re talking about the garden…
“He touched me in the garden once,” she says. Feyre’s eyes go wide (she’s got a healthy buzz) and her jaw drops. Azriel sits straight as a board and stares very hard at his drink.
“Shut. Up.” Feyre says.
Elain shrugs. “It’s true. It seemed so scandalous at the time. We were alone, unchaperoned. Engaged of course. And I’d let him kiss my neck. And then I just wanted other things.” She’s completely casual. “I put his hand on my ankle, and when he didn’t move it up, I did it for him.”
Feyre says, “Little Elain Archeron, papa’s favorite, budding socialite—getting fingered by the Nolan boy! I’m buying you another drink, I want details!” They laugh and Feyre gets up to get Elain more booze.
Elain stares at the table, “I used to think it was such a big deal. Saving yourself for marriage. Wanting to be in love. And I knew we’d get married—or were going to get married. But after I came it just seemed like such a stupid thing to be modest about.” Azriel coughs. Elain pats him on the back. “Of course that’s not to say I’d just sleep with anyone. I have standards and I’m not a whore. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a whore if that’s what you want to do for a living—Azriel, are you all right?”
Az is not all right. For two reasons. One: he likes Elain. REALLY likes Elain. Two: her tiny hand is now on his thigh, and she is too drunk to care about personal space. But luckily Feyre comes back with that second drink.
Elain takes a big swig, and both sisters go into details about their sex lives. Apparently, Elain Archeron is not as innocent as they all thought. She tells them all about the sex she and Graysen had, about the shape of his penis, and third nipple just above his belly button. She and Feyre go into excruciating details about their first times and about their best and worst orgasms.
Azriel doesn’t mind women talking about their sex lives. He thinks it’s healthy. He just thinks he’s the wrong guy to have the conversation in front of. Cassian would be a waaaay better choice. But sadly, he’s out on the dancefloor engaged in what looks like a dance off with Mor and Nesta (He’s kicking their asses btw).
By the time Elain makes it to the bottom of her second drink she is practically in Azriel’s lap. And she and Feyre are both berating him to look Elain up with one of his “spy friends.”
“Please, Az,” Feyre says. “Look at her. She hasn’t gotten any action in over a year. You’ve got to have spy friends somewhere you can hook her up with.” Elain bats her eyes up at him. “OOH! What about shadowy friends?”
“Yeah,” Elain says. She reached up and twines her finger in one of the shadows Az is trying to disappear into. “I’ve never been touched by a shadow before.” She loses her balance and her hand swipes clean down the length of Azriel’s wing. He fidgets and then downs his drink.
Feyre laughs and motions to Elain to come over to her. When Elain does, Feyre whispers very loudly in her ear, about how sensitive Illyrian wings are. Elain’s first reaction is to check under the table. But Azriel saw that coming, so he crossed his legs in advance. What he didn’t see coming was the lust filled look saturating Elain’s features. She leanes over to him just as Feyre is swept up by Rhys—who has a sudden hankering for hot dogs so they must go in search—and says, “I didn’t mean to touch you so inappropriately. If you’d like, you can do the same to me. You know, to make it even.” She’s on her knees then bringing her face level with his. And holy hell he wants to take her up on that offer, but she’s definitely to drunk to be making clear decisions.
“That’s very thoughtful, Elain, but—”
“I think about you touching me sometimes.” And now she’s definitely too close and definitely too drunk, but also WHAAAAAAAT? And because he’s a shadowy bastard, Azriel can’t keep the grin off his face. He tries, he really does, but he can’t stop it. Elain’s answering smile is like a sunrise. “Do you think about me, Azriel? When you touch yourself?”
And her lips are in his ear, breath on his skin. And because he’s never lied a day in his life he thinks to himself: fuck it. He turns to Elain and says, “Yes.”
“I see things sometimes,” she says, watching as she runs a finger down his wing. “For instance, I saw that tonight you take me home. Make me drink two glasses of water before bed. Then you sleep on the couch because I live alone and you want to make sure I don’t need anything in the night.” She meets his eyes. “But it’s in the morning that I need something. While I’m naked… in the shower. And guess who still around to give me what we both need?”
She pinches the skin at the top of his wing hard enough to hurt. He sucks in a hard breath, and wraps a large hand around Elain’s tiny waist. “I think I should take you home right now. You’ve had far too much to drink.”
He wraps them both in shadow and winnows them away.
