TSTS Chapter 32: The Reins
Please enjoy this plot-light but smut-heavy chapter with a lovely twist ending.
The House of Wind looked different. It was nothing incredibly noticeable, but to someone who’d lived there for many years, Azriel could spot the nuances immediately.
The recently-installed bookshelves in the den. The preternatural steel-and-vanilla scent that hung around like smoke. Music playing in a distant room in the house, most likely turned on by Nesta and forgotten afterward, or perhaps she’d done it on purpose, so that it would never be quiet; she did love music after all. The warm, comforting glow of a House that was now a Home.
First Rhys, then Cassian…when would it be his turn? His heart twisted with envy. With pitiful want.
Was this kind of future - this simple, beautiful, vital existence - simply not in the cards for him? Was he truly destined to never find his other half?
His shadows swirled around him angrily at the thought. Azriel knew exactly how they felt; knew exactly what they were thinking.
She already has a mate , he reminded them silently. His shadows buzzed angrily, a feeling which Azriel sympathized with greatly.
It had to be said, though, that while the thought alone used to be enough to make him snarl out loud, for some reason, it had stopped having quite the same effect on him as it used to. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why the change had occurred - though it seemed to coincide neatly with when he and Elain started fucking like rabbits - but it was significant enough to have caught his notice.
So fucking what if she had a mate? So fucking what? The truth of the matter was that she didn’t like her so-called mate . Well, maybe she liked him fine, as a friend. Whatever. But she didn’t like her mate the way she liked Azriel. Her mate didn’t have her confidence, her secrets, her heart. Her mate didn’t make her scream like Azriel did when he was balls deep inside her.
And no one had ever made him feel the way Elain made him feel. That was the truth. So why the hells shouldn’t she be his? A flare of hope, so bright and foreign, burst inside him. His shadows bobbed excitedly. “Calm down,” Azriel berated them, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t bother hiding his grin.
He finally found Cassian on the rooftop of the House of Wind, running through his usual exercise routine.
“Az!” His brother cried jovially. The massive Illyrian warrior popped up from the one-armed push-up he’d been in, strode over and clapped him on the back. “I’ve missed you, brother.”
“Missed you too,” Azriel murmured, cheeks tinged pink. Cassian’s overt and verbal expression of emotion had always embarrassed him as much as it ingratiated him.
He cleared his throat and straightened his wings. “Where are the Valkyries?” The warriors’ training was normally held at this time.
“Haven’t you heard? They’re assigned to City Guard duty now,” Cassian said proudly. “So we’ve had to move our training to earlier in the day, before their rounds begin.”
“Some of the credit goes to you, I suppose. You did train them for a while,” Cas shrugged his wings. “Though more credit goes to me, of course.”
“Of course,” Az echoed, raising an amused brow. For a moment, he rather missed assisting with the Valkyrie training, but…well, his new assignment certainly had its benefits.
Additionally, it didn’t escape his notice that a very important aspect of Velaris security had been amended without his insight, approval or even awareness.
“When did this change go into place?” he asked sharply.
It was Cassian’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Yesterday,” he said. “That’s one of the reasons I asked you here. To tell you.”
Hmm. Maybe he was overreacting.
“So why aren’t you with the Valkyries?” Azriel asked, veering away from the awkward moment.
Cassian scowled. “Because the Overprotective Twins still don’t want me to ‘overexert’ myself.”
“Am I correct in assuming Rhys and Nesta are the Overprotective Twins?”
“Will you give me that same pouty face if I tell you that I, too, think it’s best if you take it easy for a few more weeks?”
“Why are you asking questions to things you already know the answer to?” Cassian said. “Anyway, we have more important things to discuss.”
“You’re the one blathering on.”
Cassian glared at him, and Az resisted the urge to grin. It was so easy to mess with his brother.
“Since I’ve been banned from physically exhausting ,” he said, the last phrase spoken with the kind of disdain one would use whilst saying thick mucus , “activity, I’ve been reassigned. I’m coming to stay at the Mortal Manor with you and Elain!”
Azriel’s heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. “What?” He choked out after an extended beat.
“Well, and Mor too, I guess.”
The shadowsinger froze completely.
“I’m heading over there tonight. Mor should be arriving tomorrow.”
“Great,” Azriel said, doing his best to express some pleasure so as to not hurt his brother’s feelings, though he was pretty sure he just came out looking rather constipated.
In all honesty, the whole scenario sounded utterly dreadful. He was going to be living in a Manor for gods only knew how long with:
A mortal queen who turned into a bird during sunlit hours,
An annoyingly chipper human who never knew when to shut up,
His best friend and adopted brother who also never knew when to shut up,
His other best friend, a blonde he’d loved for centuries, who had once slept with aforementioned brother,
The female he was currently in a - something with, who dominated his thoughts day in and day out, and who was currently hiding some very strong magical powers of her own,
And the male she was eternally bonded to, who just so happened to be the son of not one but two High Lords, and who Azriel could barely look at without feeling like kicking something. Or, sometimes, killing something.
Yeah. This was going to be a blast.
Cassian’s happy smile flickered in uncertainty.
“When was this decided?” Az asked, unable to help himself.
“Last night. That’s why I asked to meet you here. So I could tell you myself.”
Azriel stewed in silence. Despite what Cassian said, he couldn’t help but feel this was a conversation Rhys had purposefully chosen not to have with him.
And he had a shrewd hunch as to why.
“Stop brooding,” Cassian said, cuffing him over the head a little rougher than Azriel thought was entirely necessary. “I thought you’d be excited about this! I figured you were getting bored at the Manor, anyway.”
He frowned, his anger at Rhys momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean, bored?”
“I mean, there isn’t much good company to choose from, is there?” Cas started ticking off his fingers. “First you’ve got the one-eyed mortal who shredded your wings once. Then you have the one-eyed Fae who is related to one of the biggest pieces of shit in Prythian, and I guess also Helion, which we definitely need to discuss more later, because holy shit? Then you have Vassa, who actually seems pretty fun, but she loses points because of the whole bird thing. A friend who can only hang out at night? Nighttime is for my Nesta, not for tittering with pals over a game of cards.”
“Please don’t use the word tittering again,” Azriel said. “You can’t pull it off.”
Cassian continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted whatsoever. “And then there’s Elain. I mean, Elain is the greatest, and I know you two are good friends. But I’m sure all the garden talk gets old.”
“Excuse me?” His voice came out much darker than intended. His shadows were suddenly clinging tight to him.
Cassian blinked. “I just, I meant, you’re probably dying for some guy time, right?” He blinked innocently, clearly confused by Azriel glower.
“Elain is fantastic company,” he said through his teeth.
Cas helped up his hands. “Okay, okay! Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”
“It’s not me you offended. It’s your sister-in-law, remember?”
“I know,” Cassian said slowly.
“She is much more than just gardening.”
Cassian shook his head, his eyes widening. “Yeah, you’re right. Of course you’re right. That was rude of me to say.”
Azriel wanted to say something else, but Cassian was looking at him a bit too thoughtfully, a bit too suspiciously, so he got back to the task at hand.
“Why is this change happening?”
“Feyre and Rhys spoke to Lucien recently. Apparently he’s going to be away from the Manor for a while.”
That was odd. Elain hadn’t mentioned anything about Lucien’s new travel plans when she gave him an update barely three days ago. Perhaps she hadn’t known?
He frowned. “Why? And what is he going to be doing?”
“I’m not sure. But without Lucien there, it only leaves you to provide magical protection to the Manor, and you have all your little Spymaster duties to take care of, so you can’t be there all the time. Plus, given Vassa’s recent digression, and since we are getting so close to the ball, it was decided we should bulk up security anyway.”
“Was it?” Azriel said through gritted teeth. “You’d think I would have been asked for my opinion on the subject.”
Cassian looked uncharacteristically serious . “Relax, Az,” he said, not condescendingly. “Like I said - it was decided last night. I still don’t know what exactly has been making you and Rhys behave like fucking idiots, and I certainly don’t understand why it hasn’t been put to bed yet, but don’t let your personal feelings interfere with your professional ones. Rhys would never do anything that puts Velaris - that puts his family - at risk. This change was just made, and you’re finding out shortly after the fact.”
Azriel stood taut for a long moment before relaxing his wings and sighing. “That might have been the most mature thing you’ve ever said.”
“What are you talking about?” Cassian replied, offended. “I’m always mature.”
The Queen was avoiding her. Elain was sure of it.
Her first few weeks at the manor, she never went a day without the boisterous, bold red-head seeking her out. Whether it was to walk the grounds or have a glass of wine or sneak up on Jurian and scare him so hard he screamed (this only happened once, but was so hilarious she figured it warranted a mention), Elain spent more time with Vassa than without.
But now, the Queen was unnaturally - and suspiciously - unavailable.
The first night she returned from Velaris, Elain requested a late dinner. “Please tell Queen Vassa that I will wait up to eat with her,” she’d informed one of the servants. Despite Azriel’s advice to the contrary, she was determined to get some answers from Vassa. She figured the best course of action was to simply ply her friend with expensive wine and hope she got drunk enough and spilled whatever it was she so desperately wanted to keep a secret.
Elain waited in the dining room for three hours that night before accepting defeat.
The next evening, she tried a different tactic. The second the sun had set, Elain was at Vassa’s quarters and knocking hard on her door. After several minutes, the door finally opened. But it was another handmaiden, not her friend, who answered.
“She’s not feeling up for company,” the handmaiden said apologetically. Then she lowered her voice and widened her eyes meaningfully. “She’s been doing this a lot lately. Avoiding people.”
It was true that Vassa hadn’t been dealing with the curse’s return well. Understandably, of course. But Elain knew for a fact that Vassa hadn’t been isolating herself entirely - Azriel had said he’d visited her quarters just a few nights before. And her Fae senses could easily detect Jurian’s recent scent clinging to the silk tapestries adorning the queen’s quarters.
Elain was trying not to take it personally, but it was hard. She and Vassa had always confided in each other. They shared a bond that the others didn’t - a bond over similar traumatic experiences. Over situations out of their control that had, quite literally, altered them from the inside out. That had given them strange and uncommon abilities or “gifts” they’d never asked for, never wanted. That had caused them both to resort to hiding secrets in the deepest, darkest crevices of their souls. From the very first day she met Vassa, they had fallen into easy friendship in the simple, lovely way that only women can. No matter her hurt over the secrets Vassa was keeping from her, Elain couldn’t help but trust her.
She and Vassa understood each other, simple as that. And it was because of this innate trust and understanding that she couldn’t help but feel that whatever it was Vassa was afraid to tell her wasn’t quite that bad. Despite the initial anger she’d felt, Elain was having a difficult time imagining the queen actually withholding something dangerous or detrimental from her. She just couldn’t imagine her friend doing that.
But until Vassa told her, Elain was stuck with only her own worries and wonders.
It was also rather inconvenient that her only chance to speak with Vassa was at night, since during the day she was indisposed. Not that she blamed the queen, of course. But it was messing with her sleep schedule all the same. She was almost glad that Azriel had been off on his Spymaster duties the past few days (keyword: almost). His absence had, at least, guaranteed her nights full of uninterrupted sleep.
With nothing else to do during the daytime but stew over the unanswered questions pounding against her skull, she’d taken to practicing her powers. The past few days, she’d spent nearly all her waking hours in the conservatory, testing out different powers, pushing the limit of her magic - and discovering that, so far, the limit did not exist.
Elain was not one to brag, but if she was, she would have boasted loudly for all to hear. She was getting good. Really good.
Not only had she regrown all the flowers, trees and plants back that Koschei had so rudely destroyed - she’d added to the array, using her expert gardener’s eye to create a practical oasis in the middle of the Mortal Manor. A patch of petunias covered the vast majority of the east wing. Troves of wisteria hung over her head. The ground itself was coated with lush, spongy moss that felt like springs beneath her feet. A thick web of ivy crawled up the high stone walls and arching windows alike.
It surprised her as much as it pleased her that the better she got at controlling her magic, the stronger her magic seemed to become. It was an endless loop of buzzing, positive energy, feeding into itself and onto itself and multiplying in turn. It was the kind of power that was intoxicating and terrifying and empowering, all at the same time, and Elain loved it.
She’d just finished growing a patch of incredibly rare camellias when the lovely scent of cedar, wind and smoke engulfed her senses.
“Impressive,” Azriel said. He was standing in the shadows beneath a nearby poplar, watching her with those intense hazel eyes.
She cocked an eyebrow. Then, with a delicate flick of her fingers, a huge, tri-colored orchid appeared directly beside him.
That smug bastard didn’t even bat an eyelash.
“Elain Archeron,” he said, and just like every time he said her full name, she shivered a little bit. “You might just save us all yet.”
Her responding smile may have been light and casual, but the feeling in her chest certainly wasn’t. What was it about this male and his simple, lovely words that made her heart trip over itself?
A coward in denial , she thought to herself. She knew exactly why he affected her so.
“Any updates from Velaris?” Elain asked quickly, wanting to change the subject.
Azriel may have been a pro at masking his emotions, but by now, Elain was a pro at reading him. And she could tell, in the mere second he hesitated to reply, that something of importance had occurred.
He regarded her, still wearing a carefully blank expression that didn’t fool her one bit.
“Tell me,” she said. Softly…but also powerfully.
A tendon in his jaw ticked, and something in his energy changed ever so subtly.
“Not here,” he said, and before she could take a proper breath, he was pulling her toward the garden shed that sat at the very back of the conservatory. Elain hadn’t entered the shed in a long time - certainly not since Phillip’s death, she thought sadly - because she had not had any need for gardening tools. Not anymore. The magic in her blood, so easily stirred these days, seemed to tingle at the thought.
Azriel entered the shed first, striding her over the threshold of the shed, his massive wings flexing behind him. He was still giving off a strange aura, though what exactly was different, she couldn’t quite say.
The second the door closed, the story rushed out of him. And with each new word that fell out of Azriel’s mouth, Elain’s face fell a little more.
“When are they coming?” she asked when he’d finished, her voice steady despite the fear evident in her eyes.
“But we can’t have that!” she cried. “I mean,” she cleared her throat, lowering her voice, “logistically speaking.”
“Logistically speaking?” he raised an eyebrow, causing a blush to immediately dust over her lightly-freckled cheeks.
He cocked his head to the side. “What logistics are you referring to?”
“Well, I mean, my training, of course,” she said, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s just, you know, I’m just, I’m still not ready for the others to know about my magic.”
Well, the whole “secret powers'' situation was a can of worms Azriel simply didn’t have the energy - nor the desire - to get into right now. Further than that, though, he could tell that Elain wasn’t telling the truth - or the entire truth, more likely. And it didn’t take a wizard to discern why.
Her wide, worried eyes, the nervous pitter-pattering of her heart, the way her fingers were unconsciously twisting themselves together over and over again…she was afraid. Afraid of what this change meant, not for her training, but for them . Afraid of how Mor and Cassian’s presence would affect what they had.
Azriel, who had thought of practically nothing else since hearing of the new situation himself, completely understood her distress. He’d felt the same way, at first. No, this situation was definitely not ideal. Yes, it was going to be a hell of an adjustment. And yeah, it was going to be difficult. He knew it as well as she, an undeniable fact.
But there was also an unshakeable certainty burning inside him that assuaged all these initial fears. If the last few months had taught him anything, it was that he and Elain were made for the shadows; as an entity, as a couple , they had always been forced to exist only in the dark, liminal slices of time, surviving only because they kept defeating every barrier that stood in their way, lasting only because they did not cower in the darkness but faced it head-on.
This newest obstacle was just another to knock down. It was just going to be a little bit harder now. But he had no doubt that they would find a way to see each other. He would simply not allow anything to the contrary.
He wasn’t ready to give her up yet.
Elain’s anxious face swam back into focus. So he decided to ease her worries - and assuage his own desires - and to have a bit of fun for both of them.
“Oh, your training ,” he said. “Silly me for thinking of another illicit activity entirely.” He smirked.
She narrowed her eyes. “Stop.”
“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t. I’m not very good at picking up on context clues.”
“Says the Spymaster with supersonic hearing.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
His eyes immediately flicked to her chest.
“Wipe that smirk off your face before I wipe it off for you,” Elain said.
His grin grew wider. She was in a feisty mood today. “Is that a promise?” he purred.
She huffed dramatically. “You’re annoying when you smirk,” she said childishly.
Quick as a snake, he pulled her flush against him.
“You’re annoying when you snore at night,” he said.
Elain’s face went hot. “I do not snore!”
“You do.” He nipped at her nose. “Every night.” His teeth grazed her jaw this time, sending an unwilling rush of heat through her. “Without fail.”
“I do not snore, Azriel,” she repeated hotly, surreptitiously squeezing her thighs together.
“I can’t believe your sisters never told you! Didn’t the three of you share a bed for years?” He laughed at the indignant look on her face, incensing her further.
“I loathe you,” she said crossly.
He ran his hands through her hair, then cupped her face, his thumb lightly tracing her bottom lip. “We both know that’s not true,” he said. “But I did lie. It’s not annoying when you snore.” His mouth was now mere inches from hers, so close she could taste his sweet breath. “It’s fucking adorable .”
When she scowled, he started laughing again.
She shoved at him. Humoring her, he fell back onto the low work table behind him, still chuckling. Then, to his surprise (and, quite honestly, her own), she straddled him, one lithe leg at a time.
At the first roll of her hips, his laughter guttered out.
“Am I adorable when I do this?” she asked, studying his face closely.
The muscles in Azriel’s jaw tightened. “Not the word I’d use.”
“No?” She repeated the motion, feeling him harden beneath her. “What word would you use, then?” Leaning forward, she nuzzled his neck with her nose, then replaced the touch with her lips. Softly kissed the knot on his throat. “What about…sweet?”
“No. Though you are very sweet, in every sense of the word.” As if in emphasis, he buried his face in her curls and inhaled deeply.
Elain blushed, grateful that her face was still hidden in the crook of his shoulder. She did not want to display any semblance of embarrassment. Elain wasn’t quite sure what boldness had come over her, but she knew that this was her moment to have him, not the other way around, and she did not want to give him any reason to take back the power. Not when it so rarely belonged to her. Not when he would, inevitably, take control again, and soon. She knew his tells well enough by now, knew that he could only handle someone else holding the reins for a few moments before he took them for himself.
But even if he could never admit it out loud, she also knew how much it turned him on when she took control. Even if just for a little while.
A shudder went through his entire body as she licked up his throat. Her mouth watered at the delectable tang of the thin film of sweat coating his body - and now her tongue - tangible proof of the significant effect she had on him.
“What about…lovely?” she murmured, ghosting her lips over his.
“You are so fucking lovely,” he said, eyes dark and dangerous. “But no. That’s not the word I was thinking of, either.”
Elain frowned. He was still forming complete, coherent sentences. He was still looking at her with clear hazel eyes. Which meant he was nowhere close to where she wanted him to be.
So she tugged at his shirt in a silent request. Watched as he pulled it over those massive, powerful wings and tossed it to the dirt-strewn floor, neither of them caring or even remembering where they were. She ran her hands across his golden, muscled torso the second he yanked it off, her eyes wide. Sidled further down, placing her lips lovingly, adoringly, on each taut ripple of abs. Gods have mercy. His body was a fucking treasure. Sometimes she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to see it, feel it, worship it.
Azriel was heaving in earnest now, his bare chest rising and falling with a cacophonic cadence. When her fingers dipped below the waistband of his pants, he let out a tortured groan.
Better , she thought, grinning to herself. Without letting herself hesitate, she slid to her knees and boldly pulled down both his pants and underwear. Her mouth fell open as his thick length escaped its confines, standing straight to attention and throbbing in anticipation.
She’d seen his cock before, of course. Felt it in her hands. Inside her body. But at this angle, so close, the sheer size of him struck her anew. Gods. He was utterly magnificent.
A bead of liquid formed at the top of his manhood. She eyed it, feeling slightly nervous but mostly greedy. She licked her lips. Then she licked down the center of her palm.
Azriel let out a strangled moan. Flicking her eyes up, she was pleased to see a dizzy, overwhelmed expression on his face. “You don’t have to do this,” he croaked out, and no words had ever sounded more forced.
“But what if I want to?” she asked, widening her eyes innocently before wrapping a hand around him. She clenched her fist a little harder than intended, but Azriel didn’t seem to mind.
“Holy fuck,” he said, throwing his head back against the mattress. His whole body was shaking - with restraint, eagerness, or pure and unadulterated lust, she wasn’t sure. She hoped it was a sinful mixture of the three.
She continued to stroke him, taking her time to admire the gorgeous specimen before her, learning what he liked. The harder she squeezed, the more noises of pleasure he made; when she accidentally scraped her nails down him, his hips thrust up and a choked sound came from his throat. She smiled softly, and the next time her nails grazed him, it was entirely intentional.
“You’re so big,” she mused a few minutes later, mostly to herself. The rock-hard member in her hand twitched in response.
“ Elain ,” he moaned. “Stop torturing me.”
Elain did not deign to reply. Instead she sent him a crooked, wicked smile and leaned forward. Her mouth was now mere inches away from his pulsing length. He growled in anticipation.
“We never came to a decision,” she said.
“We never decided what word accurately describes me,” she said, still moving her fist up and down, up and down. “But I think I know.” She leaned forward. “What about…” she poked her tongue out and gently licked the tip. “ Generous ?”
A great shudder worked its way through Azriel’s body, and then he was tugging her forward by the hair. “Fucking gods, Elain,” he said in a dark, grating voice. “Put your mouth on me. Now .”
Elain glanced up at him, a bit of shyness slipping through her otherwise confident exterior for the first time since she’d rolled her hips into his rock-hard lap. “Tell me what feels good, okay?”
Before he could even begin formulating a response, she wrapped her mouth around the tip and sucked. Hard. A deliciously strangled sound crawled from the back of his throat.
“That, honey, that feels so good,” he said.
Slowly but eagerly, she continued sucking him, taking him a little deeper with each new head bob, her hand covering the part of his length that her mouth couldn’t reach.
“Is this your first time doing this?” he asked, panting. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes and, without taking her mouth off his cock, nodded.
He groaned. “You’re too much. You’re too perfect.” His hazel eyes gazed fiercely into her own. Long, cool fingers grabbed her hair like reins, urging her forward once again. And this time, she took him as deep as her throat allowed.
She watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. As his mouth dropped open in a silent cry of pleasure. Even when she gagged slightly, she didn’t retreat until he guided her backward.
“Fuck,” he growled. Then he got to his feet, those mighty wings of his spanning from one end of the shed to the other. He tugged lightly on her shoulders, beckoning her to stand with him. “Let me taste you, too,” he said.
Mother above, this male was sexier than anyone had a right to be. And though his offer was quite tempting, she wasn’t finished playing with him. Gods, no. She wasn’t even close.
Ignoring him, she moved forward again, putting as much of him inside her mouth as she possibly could. She tightened her fist around the base and pumped in time with the motion of her throat, hard and steady.
Immediately, Azriel abandoned any notion of doing something else; instead, he just abandoned himself to her , wrapping her hair tight around his fist. The thought itself was enough to send a new rush of wetness to slicken her thighs.
For a while, he let her set the pace; she curiously bobbed up and down his length, pausing every once in a while to lick down the shaft or to suck solely on the head. He let her know how he was feeling the entire time.
“Gods, that’s good,” he said, or “You have the sweetest little mouth,” or “That’s my girl.” The more he praised her, the wetter she became, until she was unwittingly grinding her core against his leg, desperate to sate the pulsing ache between her thighs but still determined to bring him to climax with just her mouth.
She let out a moan of her own at how delicious he tasted, at how much she loved making him feel so good. How much she loved stoking the flames burning between them. Loved pushing him to his very limits. Loved looking at him and touching him and being with him, and oh, oh, oh . She just loved him so very, very much.
“I’m close,” he grunted out.
Everything began moving faster - her throat, her hand, her tongue - as she worked to bring him to the edge.
“Elain, if you don’t move soon, I’m going to come in your mouth,” he gritted out. He was unbelievably close; hanging on by a damn thread.
Those big brown eyes blinked up at him. His cock twitched in response. Fuck , what was it about her innocence that turned him on so much?
Then, without breaking eye contact, she nodded once.
Oh gods. He wasn’t going to survive her, was he?
“You don’t have to,” he said for the second time that night, even though his manhood was so hard it hurt. Even though he wanted nothing more than to watch her swallow his seed, watch her try and take everything he gave her.
“I want to,” she murmured, tracing her lips against the tip of his cock as she spoke, and the vibration sent a new rush of pleasure through him. Her eyes were wide and sincere and fucking intoxicating. “I want it all, Az.”
“ Fuck ,” he rasped out. “Beg me.”
She nodded earnestly, lashes fluttering. “ Please .” She gave a particularly hard suck. “Please, please give it to me.”
Azriel’s restrained snapped. Widening his stance slightly, he tightened the grip of his fingers tangled in her hair and, with an almighty thrust, shoved himself down her throat. With nowhere else to go, her hands clutched onto the backs of his thighs, hanging on for dear life. He repeated the motion over and over again, his pace relentless, his force unforgiving, his lust greater than ever before.
“Always so polite,” he said, the words closer to a growl than anything, “always so courteous. Even when you’re choking on my cock. Even when you’re begging me to fill you up with my cum.”
She let out a little whimper at that. The sound vibrated pleasantly against his thick length. He was awestruck at the way she took him down her throat with such adoration; with a reverence he’d never known before, even as he ruthlessly rammed in and out of her mouth.
It seemed a miracle that he was still going, though he knew the end was drawing close, knew it like he knew shadows and darkness and death. “Tell me, Elain,” he said, “Will you use those pretty manners to show your gratitude when I shoot my load down your throat? Will you tell me thank you as my cum is spilling from your perfect little mouth?”
Her answer came as a wicked twist of the lips, and then the lightest scratch of teeth against his rock-hard manhood - and he was absolutely done for. With an almighty roar, he shoved his hips forward one final time and came hard, stars and supernovas and planets exploding behind his eyelids.
It took several moments for him to regain his composure. By the time he did, he was bent over at the waist and breathing embarrassingly hard. He glanced down. Below him, still kneeling between his legs, was Elain. She was looking at him, too. He’d never seen such a gorgeous sight as Elain Archeron on her knees, spit dripping down her chin - or so he thought until a mere moment later when, without blinking, she swallowed, his ample release working its way down her slender, creamy throat.
He growled, low and deep. Despite the earth-shattering and balls-draining orgasm he’d just had, his cock went semi-hard. He wanted her again already, and he would want her after this next time, too, and the time after that; he could see himself wanting her for all of eternity.
Elain licked her lips. Then she smiled as she closed her eyes, as if savoring the taste.
It was the last straw. So quickly she gasped, he tugged her up, not roughly but certainly not gently, and kissed her deeper than the sea. She kissed him back just as eagerly, palming his face between her hands, desperate to get closer to him somehow, even though they were pressed against each other so tightly she did not know where she ended and he began -
The shed door opened with a bang. Azriel and Elain sprung back from each other and whipped around toward the source of the interruption.
There, standing in the doorway, wearing an expression equivalent to that of someone recently hit over the head with a frying pan, was Cassian.
