A window leaks the midnight hour into your cell. The vibrant moon in the sky, reminds you so much of the male that nearly drained you dry tonight. Or was it last night? Days ago? You can no longer tell. You don’t know how you ended up here, on the cold, hard floor in a room that feels like a meat freezer.
Azriel.
Is he alright, is your first thought. Here you are, helpless, trapped in this room with seemingly no entrances or exits, and you’re wondering if the vampire who’s all but claimed you as his own is alright. You could be seconds away from dying—again—and yet, he’s what you’re worried about.
But there’s something about Azriel that’s different. While he puts on the front of a monster, you’ve been around him long enough to notice his mask crack. They way his eyes soften when he thinks you’re not looking. The way he begrudgingly cares for you, even though he hasn’t been around humans for years. He is not the beast he wants everyone to see him as. He’s soft, lost, and looking for the same thing you’ve longed for, love.
You hope he’s okay.
Your head pounds as you sit up, bones aching as you peel them from the stone. The room spins and your eyes flutter, still weak from the blood loss. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, feels like you’re licking sandpaper as you drag the muscle across your parched lips.
You try to get your feet under you, but you’re too weak. Pain throbs at your neck, and it takes a great amount of effort to lift your hand to tenderly poke at the wound. You wince as your fingers brush against the slowly forming scabs. Two puncture holes, side-by-side, from Azriel’s sharp teeth.
You can still remember the feeling. The warmth that bled throughout your body. You felt like you belonged in Azriel’s arms, and you thought for a moment that he felt the same way about you, with how desperately he held you to his chest. His grip didn’t feel like the iron trap of a predator slowly draining its prey, it felt like…home.
You remember the euphoria that shot through your veins like a bullet. How your muscles coiled in pleasure and wetness drenched your panties. Azriel’s fingers digging into your skin in a biting pleasure, marking you in more ways than one. His harsh breath on your neck, ragged and shuttering as your ground your hips against his painfully hard cock.
You remember when he took it too far, lost too much blood, and how Azriel ripped himself from you as soon as your uttered plea broke through his haze.
You remember how he took care of you, carried you to the sofa before the crackling fire in the hearth, so large its flames threatened to lick his pale, scarred skin. You still don’t know why he started the fire in the first place. In the time that you’ve spent with him in his home, not once has he allowed a single hearth in the manor to be lit. You’ve gotten used to the constant chill in his residence, of himself, and you found an eerie sort of comfort in it.
The iciness of the cell you’re in now is unlike that at all.
“Hello?” Your voice sounds like gravel, and the silence the responds to you isn’t like the kind where you know Azriel is creeping around his home, watching your every move. This silence is the kind that threatens, that warns that something bad is coming.
The hair on your arms stands tall.
You manage to drag yourself closer to the sole window. You must be in some sort of basement, for the window is small and towards the ceiling of the room. It’s barred off, like people have been trapped down here before.
“Azriel,” you whisper. “Where are you?”
You shuffle until you can rest against the wall. It takes more effort than you have, and you’re dizzy again, vision swimming. There isn’t anything in the room for you to lock your gaze on, so you pin it on the moon through the slits in the bars.
You don’t know how long you sit, catching your breath, mustering your strength, scrambling for a solution of how to get out of this place, when something all but slams against the iron bars of the window, scaring you.
It can’t be your time, it can’t be. You want to see Azriel again, need to tell him how it felt when his canines were in your neck and he held you close.
Even your startled movements are sluggish. You have no weapons, nothing to fight against any of the monsters of the world you’ve found yourself in.
Before you can part your lips to scream, mewl in fear, anything, the person at the window speaks.
Azriel’s hazel gaze locks on you and your name slips from his mouth in a breath of relief. You sag back against the freezing cold wall. He’s here, he’s going to save you.
He tests the bars across the window. They creak, but don’t otherwise budge.
“Let me in, and I’ll come get you.”
You swallow tightly, recognizing that frenzy in his eyes. The same look he wore when you crept down the stairs of his manor in worry. “You bit me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he pleads, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a vampire look so human before. His hazel eyes are tortured, like if he could take it back in an instant, he would.
Azriel’s lip’s part, but you don’t get the chance to hear the rest of his thoughts before his mouth snaps shut. His spine straightens like a frightened cat. He’s listening to something, you realize, but no matter how hard you strain to hear, there’s nothing but your labored breathing.
“Let me in,” his voice isn’t pleading this time, it’s demanding. The bars groan under his grip. “Something much worse than Eris is coming for you right now, sweetheart, and if you don’t invite me in, I can’t help you.”
You hesitate. While your heart knows that Azriel wouldn’t hurt you like that again, your mind protests, locking your limbs and your words in your throat.
At your pause, he says, “I’m not leaving here without you.”
Warmth blooms in your chest and Azriel pretends that he doesn’t like the sound.
“Azriel?” You question, and he doesn’t like how your tone switches to something more confident. As if you aren’t worried about the beast that’s closing in on you. The one you won’t survive.
And maybe he’s something you can’t survive either, but Azriel isn’t going to let what happened tonight happen again. He will never ever hurt you again.
“Yes?” He all but hisses, worry creeping into his tone. He’s scared, he realizes, and it’s the most emotion he’s felt in a long time. If his heart were still beating, it’d be pounding in his chest. If blood still coursed through his veins, it’d be an erratic beat in his eardrums.
“If I let you in, you’ll finish the job.”
He falls still. He didn’t hear you correctly. You want him to finish the job? No—he shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “I—” He sees that sparkle in your eyes, the small quirk of your lips that tell him all he needs to know about what you mean.
Despite his best efforts, his cock rouses in his pants. He bites his lip, not even minding the harsh sting when his canines pierce his flesh and the familiar tang of blood tickles his tongue.
That ravenous feeling washes over him, pupils dilating as he takes you in.
Footsteps pierce through his dizzying thoughts. It’s prowling closer to what’s his, and Azriel would be damned if he isn’t the one who gets to turn you. “Yes,” he agrees quickly.
Your triumphant smile is sharp, blinding. “Come in, then, mate.”
Limits are tested when you wake up with a bloody nose next to your vampire boyfriend.
Masterlist
-----
It's sometime in the middle of the night when you're shaken awake. It's scary, jostling— although you supposed that was the point of it.
"Y/N," Azriel whispered non too quietly. "Get up!"
"Wha- Oh," you trailed off as the taste of iron filled your mouth. Your hand came up to your mouth where it felt sticky and wet. Above you, Azriel's pupils were blown wide, his fangs sticking out. It took you a second to piece everything together. To come to the realization that it's everywhere— blood. Wet sticky blood, all over your mouth, your chin, your nose, and cheek. "Shit!" You cried as you flew out from under the covers and raced into your bathroom. With a loud slam of the door, you separated yourself from Azriel.
Despite squinting your eyes from the harsh bathroom light, you could still see yourself in the mirror. You could see where your nose had started to bleed before you must have rolled over because now it was all over the lower half of your face.
You turned towards the bathroom door as if you could see Azriel through it. "Are you okay?"
The floor boards creaked before Azriel answered you. "I should be asking you that."
"I'm fine." You answered as you looked at yourself in the mirror, as if making sure that you really were fine. You grabbed a wash cloth and turned the tap on, cleaning your hands and face.
"I want to help," Azriel called. His voice through the door sounded strained. "But I didn't feed tonight. And the smell-"
"I know." You called back. "I'll clean the sheets when I'm done in here."
"I can try," Azriel trailed off.
"No, go down stairs."
"I don't know if that's enough distance." Azriel admited. "I was hungry before bed-"
"Do you, do you want some?" You asked carfully. Azriel had never fed from you, it was one of his rules. But, if he was hungry, and you were already bleeding...
"No!" Azriel growled out.
"Okay," you answered softly. "Then just go stand outside so it doesn't bother you so much. I'll come get you when I'm done."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." You replied as you finally finished with your face. You moved on to cleaning the cloth so that it didn't bother Azriel.
It's silent for a moment before you hear the creak of the floor boards again and Azriel's disappearing footsteps. You know he's making the noise on purpose, a silent way of telling you he's listening and leaving you to clean up.
"Shit," you cursed again as you walked out of the bathroom. The open bathroom door allowed a dull glow to fill your bedroom, and in the dim light, you could see the dark stains of your blood where it was wiped across your pillow and bedsheets. No longer tired, you made quick work of changing all the sheets and replacing them.
After dumping them in the washer for a clean, you moved on to find your boyfriend.
Azriel was stood on the front steps when you found him. Your porch light cast his skin in a warm glow.
"Are you okay?" He asked as soon as you opened the door.
"Yes. Are you?"
Azriel paused for a moment before he turned to face you. His face, usually unreadable, was clearly upset. "I hate it." He breathed.
"Hate what?" You asked as you took a step closer.
"This!" Azriel cried, throwing his hands towards himself. "The love of my life wakes up in the night, bleeding, and I can't help."
"You don't need to help, Azriel."
"But I want to! I should! Instead I practically ran away so I wouldn't hurt you further!"
"I wasn't hurt," you said as you stepped closer.
"But you could have been, Y/N. I was so hungry, I still am! And the blood, it was strong and sweet, and you were right there-" Azriel stopped, taking a moment to breath. His hazel eyes fluttering closed as he tried to calm himself down.
"Nothing happened, Azriel." You told him. You reached out and grabbed his hand. It was limp for a moment before he tightened his grip and squeezed gently. "You have the most self-control trol out of anyone I know. And I trust you completely. I know that no matter what, I'm safe with you. Tonight you proved it. A weaker male would have taken advantage of me in that moment."
Azriels eyes flashed open with anger. "I'd never-"
"Let that happen," you finished. "I know. That's one of the reasons why I'm with you. Why I trust you completely."
"You shouldn't," Azriel said softly. Although he still took a step closer, eager to pull you into his embrace.
"I'll be the judge of that."
Azriel paused before he finally gathered you in his arms. "I'd never take a drop of blood from you. Never." He promised.
vampire!azriel x fem!reader – blood, feeding, rhys watches (more on him soon!). approx. 600 words.
Azriel's ears perk at the shuffling of bare feet in the next room, both his and Rhysand's heads turning curiously as you stumble into view, eyes teary.
You're rather akin to a newborn deer, unsteady as you creep on the balls of your feet, shivering and cradling yourself for comfort.
Rhys doesn't think he's ever seen Az soften with such urgency, his steely countenance turning on its head as that first fat tear rolls over the swell of your cheek.
"My angel," he coos. "Come to me, baby."
You seem to hesitate, but you're quickly enticed closer by the roaring fire at the edge of the room, lulled into his arms without much protest at the crackling promise of warmth. Hues of gold and orange split into dappled rays that climb the expanse of Azriel's bare chest, the milky skin stark against the dark of the sitting room. It's an incentive for you to venture closer, a reward for spending your days shrouded in cold and darkness with this creature that calls you mate.
Rhys quirks a brow. "Who's this?"
It's as though those two words have set every fight response Azriel's body possesses alight, his temper flaring; a growl rumbles through him, his grip tightening as he snatches you up to his chest as though somebody will attempt to steal you away. Rhys lifts his hands in surrender.
You go soft, submitting in an attempt to placate the vexation that crawls through his every vein like molten lava. Your head spins, fatigue weighing down your every limb as though they're filled with molasses. He grazes the edge of a fang along your pulse point. Just enough to break the first layer of skin.
He watches the drop of blood well, ooze and drip, settling in the hollow of your throat.
You sniffle, stomach flipping. He knows what you want; he just enjoys the desperation lacing your tone. You need the release of the feed as much as him. "Please."
Onyx strands of hair sweep over his eyes as he dips his head low to flatten his tongue across your throat, humming lowly at the tang of copper that bleeds over his tastebuds. He nudges your jaw with the tip of his nose.
"So polite, little bird," he hums. "Lean on me, baby. Az has you."
You hiccup, pushing closer into his space. A scarred hand brushes the hair from your throat, fangs entirely unsheathing as the tips of his teeth pierce your tender flesh.
You whine and thrash like a wounded prey animal, but you're quickly subdued as his venom seeps into your bloodstream. Euphoria bursts behind your eyelids, skin buzzing with the high that a feeding always brings you.
The other male's voice is muffled as though your ears are wadded with thick cotton. You sigh when Azriel slips his arms beneath your shoulders and hikes you upward with frantic urgency as he takes longer, dragging mouthfuls, squeezing as though the blood will pour from your wounds more rapidly.
"Az, you should stop. You'll kill her if you feed for much longer."
Azriel pulls away just enough to pant and growl, "She's fine."
The twin puncture wounds pulse and gush when Azriel tilts his head to watch his brother, irises entirely engulfed by inky darkness.
Your head drops, limp against his shoulder. Your limbs are flooded with warmth, body heavy like treacle and sated with the venom that twines around your veins like ivy, burrowing beneath your skin. Azriel's tongue flattens against your throat to clot the blood, sealing your seeping punctures.
"Shall we get you to bed, pretty bird?" he coos, mouth tilting upward blissfully. Your nose scrunches and you mouth at the bare skin as his silk shirt falls away from his form.
You're simply too tired to open your eyes, or protest, or even respond.
Vampire!Poly-batboys x reader: Mercy, Devil - Part 2
A/N: The poly part two to the vampire fic is here! Hope you enjoy!!
Warning: Vampirism, poly!batboys, blood, biting
Word Count: 4,154
-Part 1- -Part 3-
——————————————————————————————————————————————
Thunder rolls across the perpetually stormy sky, his castle seemingly gifted with its own unique weather system. Rain lashes at the windows, criss-crossed with diamond-shaped indentations upon the glass, streaked with icy water. Lightning cracks across the dark, heavy clouds, flashing with startling light, briefly illuminating the chambers you’ve been returned to.
You swallow heavily, rousing from an empty sleep, fatigue weighing on bone marrow as you push up from the bed. The pearls have gone, replaced by a pale blue nightgown and memories of the evening you stumbled into the castle return. Right into the beast’s jaws.
Fingers trace over your throat, pockmarked with tiny puncture wounds, skin aching around the slightly swollen marks. Memories of the fear and alarm upon feeling those gleaming incisors skating across your neck rush in, the overpowering strength of his hands on your body, shoving your head to the side so he could drink deeper. The hot spill of blood as it dripped down over collar bones, the mad frenzy in previously sharp and clear eyes. He’d seemed utterly undone, at the mercy of his own hunger as he’d fed.
Your pulse spikes in your chest, fear diluting in your lifestream, breathing deepening as you hastily peer around the room. Searching for something that could possibly help keep the beast off of you. It’s a stupid thought, you know that—why would he have the means to his demise so readily available? In his own home, no less. That would be idiotic.
“Sleep well?” A low, silken voice asks, making you scream, flinching back as you snap your head to the doorway. He’d entered on completely silent feet—the door hadn’t even made a sound. “Now, now. There’s no need for that,” he chides soothingly, “you’re alive and well. No need for theatrics.” But your nails are practically tearing at the sheets with how tight you’re gripping them. Something like him—something that drinks the blood of women, relishing in draining away their youth—can be nothing but pure evil. Hell incarnate.
“Stay away from me,” you grit out lowly, back pressed against the plush cushioning of the headboard. “You have no power over me. Let me leave.”
He’s quiet for a moment, watching you intently, before lowering his head, a mix between a sigh and a laugh huffing from his lips. Raises gleaming violet to pierce into you, as if able to pin you to the bed with a glance alone. “I’m afraid I won’t be doing that,” he says amicably, still in that velvety voice of his, like satin brushing teasingly across your skin. “You see, little devil, I have lived centuries in this world. Travelled far and wide, sampled a number of women and men alike, and yet I’ve never once come across a taste quite as exquisite as yours.” Protectively, you raise your palm to your throat, as if blocking the skin from his view may serve a chance for freedom—or undo what he’s already found.
“Because of that,” he continues leisurely, as if he hasn’t turned your life upside down within the span of a breath. “I will be keeping you for myself, here, in my castle. Is everything clear?” You blink, dread sluicing through your veins.
“I’m not— You can’t do that.” You splutter quietly, incredulity and fear drenching your tone in horror. “I’m a living person. You can’t just lock me up. That’s— That’s wrong.” You manage to whisper, too shocked to bellow.
“You don’t have a choice here. Well, not one you’d like,” he muses idly, hands sliding into the pockets of his dark, tailored trousers. “What is it?” You grit out anyway, attempting to conceal your trembling fingers.
The charming smile fades from his elegant mouth, slipping into something blank and unreadable. “Either, you can agree to my generous offer and remain mine in this castle,” he says, voice turning to freezing silk, prowling toward you in the low thunderous light. “Or, I can take my final drink now, and let you pass on into the next world—or rather, into the next half world.” He reaches the edge of the bed, but you’re too terrified to move.
Even as he pulls his hand from the neatly stitched pocket of his dark trousers, you remain still. Petrified, until his icy hand settles on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing to the soft sides beneath your jaw, tilting your head to him. “You should know: I would not be kind if you forced me to turn you,” he murmurs tenderly, leaning over the bed, bracing his forearm against the headboard. “You are quite to my tastes,” he says softly, lowly, “I would hate to see you become a servant, instead of what you could be.”
“And what is that?” You manage to ask shakily, forcefully pushing yourself as deep into the headboard as you can.
Glittering violet briefly scans your features, then the edges of his mouth are curving, dipping down to nose at your throat. Sharp, piercing teeth graze the shell of your ear. “Cared for,” he answers, cold lips brushing the erogenous skin, fingers flexing around your neck. “Desired,” he murmurs softly, dipping lower, skimming the erratic pulse of your life force. “Cherished.”
Incisors scrape, and you flinch, muscles contracting with fear.
He pulls back, staring down at you from not even a breath away.
“So, my dear,” he muses, “what will it be?”
You stare at him, eyes widened, pupils no-doubt dilated with fear. You swallow thickly, overwhelmed by the intensity of him, the heaviness of his presence, the dominating sense of self rolling from his powerful figure. Pulse spikes with the thought him ending your life—would the rightness of thwarting him be worth an eternity of obeying his word? At the mercy of his absolute power?
“You wouldn’t ever taste my blood again if you turned me,” you rasp, trying to force the tremors from your voice. “You’d lose the exact thing you’re trying to gain.” Sharp eyes flash, his jaw working at your brazen answer. “Are you sure you want to test that, little devil?” He asks, voice rougher than before, anger and hunger kindling in his eyes. “I’m offering you a life of comfort and care in exchange for your compliance. Anyone can see you’re gaining much more than I am out of this agreement.”
“Which is exactly why I know you won’t turn me,” you return shakily. “Why give so much for something so unimportant, right?”
A muscle feathers in his jaw, then he’s pushing away from you roughly. “You’re being foolish,” he warns, eyes glittering with hunger. “Maybe I won’t turn you, but I believe you’re somehow forgetting I don’t need your permission to take what I want.” His fingers flex at his sides, shoulders rolling subtly before he’s sliding hands into his pockets. As if to calm the urge to pin you down and drink.
You stiffen in your place. Reconsidering his offer. If you refuse, but he decides to take anyway, where will you be kept? In some subterranean dungeon, left to lie and rot on a damp pallet of hay? Locked in some long-forgotten room, only allowed out when he wants to feed?
Rhysand senses your doubt, honing in on it like the beast he is, able to smell the indecision. “Think about it,” he says calmly, earlier hunger banished, not a trace to be found. “I have some visitors to see to, but will be back this evening for your answer,” he smiles politely, turning for the door but pausing at the threshold. “If you need a reminder of what it feels like…” You could swear his eyes darken with glee at the way your muscles contract, legs pressing together as you remain huddled to the head of the bed.
“Until tonight, then,” he grins, gleaming white teeth glittering in the low light. The door sweeps to a close behind him, leaving you alone with a choice to make. A sense of impending doom weighing in your blood.
————
You have to get out. It’s the only viable solution.
You don’t want to be stuck as a glorified chicken for the rest of your life—used until you’ve grown too old, then devoured entirely. You have no preferable choice, so you’ll have to make your own, and escaping seems like a pretty good idea.
Easing down a breath, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the pale blue cotton of your nightgown swishing softly at bare ankles. Peering around the room, you search for anything that could be used as a weapon against a…whatever he is. Some blood-sucking devil.
The neatly preserved figure of gleaming armour catches your gaze—if a weapon is to be lying about somewhere, surely it would be here? With a spark of hope in your chest, you creep forward on what you hope are quiet feet. Not that you should be too concerned. Despite how silently he can move, the castle seemed intimidating in size, and you doubt he’d be able to pick up footsteps from so much as a corridor away.
Your pulse spikes as you eye the short scabbard wrapped over the waist of the armour, slightly shaky fingers pulling on the string to move it around. There’s a handle poking from it’s top, and your heart stumbles in your chest. With trembling hands, you pull the string loose, tying it instead around your own waist, thumbing the blade free experimentally. It’s so clear you can make out the gleaming wetness to wide, frightened eyes.
Breathing deeply, you return the blade to its new home at your hip, tip-toeing for the door, hoping he will have left it unlocked. Underestimating your drive to keep your own pathing. You will not have choice taken away from you.
The handle turns, and the door swings open on well-oiled hinges.
A cool wave of relief sweeps over you, pulling it open to peer down the long, stretching hallways either side. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary to be found. Except maybe the blood-red carpeting. You should have realised how strange it was, how macabre the whole setup is. Maybe it’s a lovely colour, but not one you slather your entire house in, let alone a whole castle.
Shaking your head, you slip out over the threshold, silently bringing the door to a close at your back, before making your way down the stretching hallway. You move silently, keeping to the edges of the carpeted floor—as if you’d be able to hide from him. In the pale gown, you stick out like freezing blue lips in a rose garden.
Following the path he had taken you to dinner, you manage to relocate the entrance hall, heart beating wildly in your chest, eyes darting left and right frenetically, searching for movement. It’s an open stretch. Once you’re out there, you’ll have to go straight for the door. There’s nowhere to hide yourself once you step out into the hallway.
You take in a steady breath, then step out into the open.
Silently, you make your way as swiftly as possible down the curving case, feet padding softly along the well-polished boards, trying to keep sound to a minimum. The heavy-looking door looms before you, menacingly staring as you approach. Hairs raise at the nape of your neck, but you push away the apprehension, hands shaking as you reach for the knob.
It doesn’t shift.
You try pulling, but nothing.
You twist it harder, using both your hands, but to no avail.
Mentally you curse—you’d hoped it would be unlocked like last time. He’s seemingly taken some precautions, then. You’ll need to find another way out, or maybe the keys… Where would keys be?
They could be anywhere, you realise despairingly, and in a castle this large, you don’t have the time to spend painstakingly searching for them. You’ll have to find another exit. Every home has a backdoor, there must at least be one for the servants he mentioned—there’s no way they’d be allowed entrance through this hall.
“Who are you?”
You scream, jolting away from the voice, turning to find a man at your side—he’d been completely silent, just like Rhysand. You stumble back, hands shaking at your sides as you take in his towering figure. Wearing dark leather, surrounded by the glowing red of the castle, he cuts a terrifying silhouette. With black hair that come to his shoulders, and the eyes that feel like they can pierce straight through bone, you can feel in your blood he’s the same creature as the Lord.
The blade at your hip weighs heavily, but you know from a single look there’s no way you’d be able to do anything with it. You’re more likely to end up slicing yourself open, dripping over the blood-red carpet.
His lips part in an almost wolfish grin as he takes you in properly. “Oh, I see,” he drawls, stepping closer. “You’re one of Rhys’, aren’t you?”
“Please…” you breathe, heat building behind your eyes. “I don’t—…I just want to leave…” Lungs spasm with fear, and his nostrils flare delicately, before taking a step back. The man raises his arms placatingly, exposing his palms in a sign of peace. “I’m not stopping you,” he says lowly, still baring his teeth in a smile.
Your tongue swipes out to wet your lips, staggering a step back hesitantly, then another. Never taking your eyes from his hulking figure.
Your muscles involuntarily contract with soul-deep fear as a blood-curdling snarl rips through the castle’s interiors. A wave of bone-crushing terror smacks into you, like a flash of lightening followed by the roll of thunder as something dark pulses through the building. The man’s smile widens at the sound, turning a little feral. “Better be on your way,” he warns roughly, voice like gravel. “Before the beast catches you.”
Heart pounding, you spin on your feet and run.
You could swear his low chuckle follows on your heels as you sprint from the room, nearly stumbling over your own toes as you pass over carpets and rugs, running through doorways and dodging around rich, plush armchairs and large, heavy instruments. Fire crackles in one room but you have no time for pause, feeling that power closing in no matter how far you run.
Feet slam on the polished wood of floorboards, and you spot an open door down the stretching corridor. Without care for noise, you dart inside, snapping the door to a close, hurriedly taking in your surroundings—it’s a frighteningly large library. Cases of books tower on wide-set shelves, neatly stacked but tightly packed, perfect to hide within.
Not giving it a second thought, you make for the towering furniture, darting between the aisles as quickly and as quietly as possible, keeping your eyes wide for any sign of movement. If you can just wait until you feel this cloying power pass, you can try venturing out again.
You think back over the conversation which must have been in the morning if he said he would return at night. He’d said he’d had guests to see to—that man must have been one of them, but how many are there? Are they all like him? They must be. Unless they bring humans along with them? What if there are more beasts prowling the halls for you now that signal has practically shot lightening into anything capable of breathing within the castle?
“You aren’t supposed to be in here.”
Muscles go taut, stomach tightening as cold dread ices your skin.
You turn rigidly on your heel, coming to face another man, wreathed in darkness. Silky hair gleamed in the low library light, his sharp hazel eyes pinning you to the spot with a single look. You shake your head, managing a single wobbly steps back, before he’s slowly prowling forward, gaze trained on you like he’s finally locked in on his prey.
Turning, you stumble away, running back through the tall cases, now understanding their disadvantage. He can’t see you, but you also can’t see him. Fighting your growing terror, you break from the shelves, running toward a door that will no doubt only lead you deeper into the castle, separate from the one you came in from. But he appears before you in a blur of shadow, and you smack into the stone-like muscle of his chest—utterly freezing, utterly lifeless. Death wreathed in darkness.
You still in your spot, staring up into sharp, predatory eyes with visible terror, vaguely remembering the blade at your hip.
“What are you doing here?” He asks lowly, hands kept casually at his sides, but you don’t doubt he could strike at any moment should the desire take him. “I— Please,” you beg, internally screaming for your body to move, to turn and run from the beast before you clad in the skin of an angel. “Just let me go,” you breathe shakily, stumbling back.
The man watches you silently, coldly. “You know that’s not going to happen,” he says shortly, “either you can obey and I’ll escort you back to your room, or you can make this painful.” Your eyes widen, pressure building quickly, the blade practically searing into your skin. If you comply, you’ll probably be locked up. You’ll never escape, and choice will have been taken from you. But if you fight… Even against something as terrifying as him… It will be on your own terms.
But you’re not a fighter—at least, not in the face of this particular beast. The best you can do it run.
You spin on your heel, turning for the door, but a stone-cold hand has already gripped your shoulder and you cry out in pain. His hold is like ice, stern and unforgiving. “Fine,” he mutters, making to—
“Hold on, Az,” that voice drawls, pure terror slicing through your stomach.
One was impossible enough, but two? There’s no way. You’re going to die.
The man—Az, he’d said—stops, his grip lightening by a fraction. “She’s Rhys’, Cass. We should return her.” Muscle trembles beneath his grip, neck craning to turn to spot the other man at your back, having come in through the hallway. He shrugs nonchalantly, as if the warning gleam in the shadowy one’s eyes doesn’t bother him. “That’s his fault for letting her out,” he drawls, coming to stand closer behind you. Too close.
His hazel eyes drop to yours, that wolfish smile breaking across his lips. “Besides,” he says lowly, “you know he only keeps the good ones around for more than one meal.” The man—Cass—steps closer, hands going to your waist as he lowers to your throat, pulse spiking as he noses along the smooth expanse. “This is it,” he mumbles, lips brushing your skin. “This is what I picked up, Az. She smells so good.” He pulls away, pulling your hair to the side, exposing the bare top of your shoulder and you tense, remembering how little clothing you’re wearing. How unprotective it is. “Go on,” he urges quietly, “give her a try.”
Az narrows his eyes, but relents, curiosity getting the better of him. Spine turns rigid as he dips down, nosing along the column of your throat, feeling the trembling pulse of your life-force beneath his mouth. You hear the sound of him inhaling, scenting your skin, before pulling away. “See?” The man at your back drawls. “I’ve got a good nose for these things. I told you I smelled something delicious.”
“Rhys has good taste,” the other answers flatly, “unlike some people, Cassian.” Still, his eyes remain on your throat for a little too long for your comfort.
Cassian doesn’t seem bothered by the jab, instead raising one of his hands from your hip to trace along the stuttering pulse of your heart, grazing down your neck. “I bet she tastes good,” he murmurs, and you can feel the weight of his gaze alone, hairs prickling beneath its intensity. “Cass,” the man at your front warns, voice low and cold. “She’s Rhys’. He won’t like it if you decide to put your grubby teeth all over her.”
Cassian pays him no mind, and Az’s grip on you tightens, pulling you toward him, aiming to distract the other. “When was the last time you drank?” He asks distastefully. Cassian shrugs again, “I assumed Rhys would provide a meal, and since he has such good taste,” he says pointedly, “I thought I’d enjoy myself.”
Another beastly snarl rips through the halls of the castle, and Cassian muffles a low chuckle. The man before doesn’t seem to find it as funny, the shadows at his back darkening. “What did you do this time, Az?” The man asks, lips curved with mirth.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to slip away,” Az hisses in a flash of canines. That deadly thrum of power intensifies, and you realise it must mean Rhysand is approaching. Whatever Az had done, the illusion’s over. It feels like he’s already right outside the door.
“Are you going to drink, or not?” Cassian asks, rough fingers slipping beneath the neckline of your gown, thumbing at the soft buttons at your front, slowly un-popping them in order to move the fabric out of the way of his teeth. “I don’t want to share Rhys’ meal,” Az says, a note of distaste to his words.
“Why not? It wasn’t a problem a couple of centuries ago,” Cassian drawls, challenge in his tone. “What happened? Spend a few decades fawning over a woman and suddenly all taste for adventure’s gone?” He scoffs, the taunt clear in his deep voice. “You’ve lost your touch, brother. You’re getting soft.”
A warning snarl drags from the other man’s throat, hazel eyes flicking to the door.
But Cassian sees his chance, head dipping down, incisors piercing your throat, biting down and spilling blood. Your lips part in a scream, paralysed as his venom enters your body, making your limbs feel heavy and clunky.
“Cassian,” Az hisses roughly, forcefully ripping him from you. Pain stings through your shoulder and collar bones, the only thing keeping you up being the hand at your hip and the chest at your front. Pressure wells behind your eyes at the ache, blood trickling down your skin. “What’s gotten into you? One scent catches your attention and suddenly centuries of discipline dissolves?” He snarls lowly, aware of the pulsing power that’s filling the room.
Cassian’s silent, but you can feel his body begin to tremble at your back. Fear drenches your skin as his grip tightens on you with the same display of inhumane strength Rhys had shown after his initial bite. Weakly you try to press closer to the man before you, but his attention is now trained on the blood beading at your throat, the puncture wounds already sealing over.
Terrifying hunger fills the dark hazel of his eyes, and you want to shrink away.
“You’ve got to try her, Az,” Cassian rasps at your back, voice low and strained. “Fuck, that’s the best I’ve ever had.” Wide eyes lock with hazel, silent and pleading. You’d take being returned to that room over this easily, no doubt in your mind.
The dark, raging power grows closer, reaching it’s peak. He’s right there.
Az’s lip curls back for a moment, but then he’s forcing the neckline of your gown over your shoulder, tearing at the lovely cotton in favour of piercing his canines into the softness of your neck. Your head tips back, falling into Cassian as your lips part in a soundless scream, rounding into a pained shape as he drinks, his own venom sinking into you.
Already dizziness is taking over you, but then Cassian is curving over you again, mouth parting, incisors sliding back into your skin with a now pleasurable pain. Arms go limp at your sides as their bloodlust wraps around you, completely overpowered by their hunger as hands grip and grope at your skin.
Tears push from your lashes, dripping down your cheeks as the ecstasy spins your mind, wickedly turning the pain into something soft and blissful. Making you want them to drink deeper, wanting to have their teeth in you, to put their hands across your body.
Darkness explodes through the room, rage blasting through the soft warmth of lust, pulling you from the jaws of vampiric seduction.
The world tilts a little as they pull away, but without the adrenaline of their venom you feel weak. Like you’re unable to go on.
The last thing you remember is the fierce grip on your hips, the possessive touch over your back and shoulders as icy violet brings the night to its crescendo.
Then everything explodes in glittering black.
——————————————————————————————————————————————
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Azriel was standing in the middle of the bathroom, jaw tightened, fists clenched, shadows swirling close to his body in a protective way. He was wearing a costume of vampire you chose for him. He wasn't happy when you showed it to him as well as he hated the idea of the entire party, but for you he would do anything.
He combed his hair back and put on the fake fangs. Despite his expression you couldn't imagine anything more sexy than this. He looked like some dark prince from the fantasy. His tall muscular figure stood out in black satin shirt with crimson red vest and straight black trousers with pucks. The mantle was like cherry on the top of cake. His huge wings complemented the picture perfectly.
You bit down on your lower lip trying to resist temptation. It took you some time to collect yourself to be able to stop gazing at him with saliva gathering in your mouth and find your voice.
"You look.." you moaned yet unable to finish the sentence, struggling to find the correct words. He was too perfect to be described.
"Like idiot.. I know.." he sighed closing his eyes in frustration. "I can't go out like this."
"What are you talking about?" your brows furrowed in disagreement. "You look amazing, love. Actually I'd love you to keep that costume even after the party." You winked at him, once again playing with your lower lip.
Understanding what you were implying, he chuckled. He started to playfully tease the tip of the fake tooth with tongue, slowly walking step by step towards you while his eyes hungrily scoped you.
"Or we could stay home and.." he offered in a deep voice that always turned you on. You took a deep breath trying to overcome the heat spreading in your lower belly while he leaned closer placing his scarred hands on the wall behind you, caging you in between. Smell of the arousal filled the air.
"You play dirty, you know," you hummed. Shadows gently caressed your cheeks, tilting your head up to look up at him. Azriel grinned widely, undoubtedly thinking he won.
"I love this idea, but keep it for later. Let's go," you laughed easily escaping under his arm. Smirking he shook his head, but he followed you.
Party was amazing. You met there all your friends and had a really great time. Azriel stayed close to you trying to melt into the dark corners around the room, sipping on his drink and watching you with fascinated look. When it was over the two of you returned to your shared apartment.
Tired you kicked down your high heels and stretching hands up over your head you headed to the bedroom. Azriel followed you closely, turning lights off on his way.
"I had so much fun tonight. I'm so tired I could fall asleep while standing in the shower," you sighed exhausted. You turned around to look at your mate leaning his back against the door, hungrily watching you. His hazel eyes shined with mischief.
Once again you couldn't take your eyes off of him. He was so perfect that you often wondered why he chose you. He smirked as if he could read your mind.
"I believe we still have something to do tonight," he licked his lower lip. Shiver running down your spine just hearing his sexy deep voice, the heat building up between your legs.
"Oh, really? And what should it be?" you replied playfully turning to the bathroom door, pretending you forgot. Making sure you added an extra swirl of hips, you walked in, starting to take off makeup.
Azriel sneaked up on you silent as his shadows and hugged you from behind. He brushed his nose and lips against the sensitive skin of you neck, kissing it lightly. You moaned with pleasure.
He took a deep breath of your scent, opening his mouth he bit down on your neck with the fake fangs still on, drawing the blood. You hissed, but didn't move an inch. Were those fangs so sharp? Certainly no. You made extra sure they aren't. You didn't want your mate get hurt. Your brows furrowed. However strange mixture of pain and pleasure made you forget whatever was on your mind.
"Love," you whispered gently squeezing his hands, begging for more. He looked like waking up from a trance. Gleaming gaze of hazel eyes met with yours in the mirror. Reluctantly he pulled away, licking two small cuts on your skin that closed immediately. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. And you?" His voice was so husky.
"I'm fine. You seem to have settled into your role," you chuckled lightly.
His gaze hungrily returned back to your neck. "It seems so," he licked his lips. "I forgot to check something. I'm going to do it now. Go to the bed, no need to wait for me," he said, slowly retreating back to the door.
"And what about our plans for tonight?" you watched him confused.
"We will continue next time." With those words he disappeared. Worried you waited for him almost until the dawn, but he didn't returned that night. Exhausted you fell asleep alone.
Azriel was quick to adjust to life as a vampire. For centuries, he lived his life, not happy, but content. Content in his knowledge that he was a creature of the night and nothing and no one could change that.
But then he met you.
And suddenly, Azriel hated what he was. He hated the danger he posed to you. He hated that he couldn't give you the things he wanted to in life. He hated that he was a monster, something so ugly and horrific compared to your gentle beauty. But what he hated the most was that you loved him through all of it. He hated it, and yet, he was an inherently selfish creature. Unless you said so, he wouldn't let go of you.
“I love you,” Azriel groaned as he thrust into you. You lay splayed out on the bed beneath him, legs wrapped around his hips and head thrown back in pleasure.
“Fuck, Az,” you cried. He groaned as your walls squeezed him even tighter. “Love you, fuck. Love you so much.”
“Fucking perfect,” Azriel admitted. His pace picked up. One hand grasped yours while the other propped himself up.
“Bite me,” you ordered.
Azriel slowed his thrusting. “No,” he groaned. “I can't. I'll hurt you.”
“No,” you answered. Your right hand came to grasp his cheek, urging him to look at you in the eyes. “You won't hurt me, Az.”
“You can't promise me that.” Azriel answered. He went to pull out but your legs held firm.
“I can.” You answer. A soft, beautiful smile bloomed across your face, and Azriel almost believed you. "You've done it before,"
"Once," Azriel cut in. "And I'm still not happy about it."
"And it didn't hurt," you finished. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he couldn't help but melt further into you. "You're pale, you need to feed." You thrust down on his cock, pulling a groan out from his clenched mouth. "Now's the perfect time. Don't you wanna taste me?"
"All the time," Azriel admitted.
"Then do it. Fuck me and bite me and fill me up as you drink from me." Your hips continued to move, bringing pleasure to the both of you. Slowly, Azriel begun to pick up his own pace once more.
"Do you realize what you're asking?" He asked.
"Yes, and I trust you."
"Fuck," Azriel groaned. He lowered his head to press a kiss to your lips, and then your cheek, and everywhere he could reach. "You're too perfect, too good for me." Azriel admitted between kisses.
"No," you argue back. You tilted your head back into the pillow, giving Azriel as much access to your neck as possible. "We're both good for each other, we're perfect for each other."
"I love you." You didn't have time to answer Azriel before he was biting into your neck. You cried out as you reached your climax. Your limbs fell lax from a mixture of pleasure and venom.
"Az," you moan. You moaned and cried and you didn't know if it was from the sensation of his cum coating your walls as he reached his own end, the sweet haze of a venom filled mind, or just the feeling of Azriel’s mouth on you, drinking you in. All you knew was that you were calm and happy and really fucking satisfied.
Azriel detached from you after one final taste of your blood. His lips were bloody, but you didn't care as you pulled him in for a kiss.
"How are you?" He asked after he finally pulled away from you.
"S' good," you slurred.
Azriel chuckled. "Yeah? I didn't hurt you?"
"No, didn' hurt. S' good, Az."
Azriel smiled. Leaning down, he licked up a stray drop of blood off of your neck, at the same time he pulled his cock out of you, pulling a groan from both of your chests.
"Happy now, needy thing?"
You laughed. "Yeah, you?"
Azriel's smile grew even wider. "Yeah, I'm happy," he pressed another kiss to your lips. "Really fucking happy."
Notes: Woohoo, look at that. Finished it already. Directly follows Might Bite Back
_________________________________________
Azriel goes the only place he can think of.
He’s long since forgotten the feeling of cold. Of the wind spilling chills down his frail, human skin. Of the sting in his nose, the bite in his chest with every inhale of the crisp, winter air. Of the prickles of blood returning to frozen fingertips after spending too long in the snow.
But the night has always been his safe place, since even before he was turned. The familiarity of the moon looking over him would normally ease the knots in his stomach, the urge to flee in his veins.
If he could feel right now, it’d be the rolling of his stomach with sickness. It’d be embarrassment, a white-hot lance of regret burning through his blood for the things he’s swore he’d never do to you, lying unconscious on his settee before the fire, your pulse slow and your breathing shallow, tow punctures in your neck.
It doesn’t take long to get where he’s going. It’s a path he’s taken many times, through the winding trees of the forest his home resides in. Deep in the thicket of the Night Court forest between the Steppes and Velaris, bordering the Prison. It’s up in the mountains where he belongs, the very same ones that house other wild beasts just like him; the ones who should never be let out of their cages.
He lost his cool tonight. Went too long without feeding because you hold his interest all too well. It’s been like that since day one, even though he keeps himself scarce for your safety.
Fucking fat lot it’s done tonight.
Azriel can still taste you in his mouth. Not your sweet little cunt, but your blood. He swipes his tongue over his lips, chasing the delectable flavor.
His marred hands shake, because with just one drop of you, he knows he’s addicted to you.
It settles in his bones just like it had when he had the realization that he’d become the very thing he swore he’d never become. Azriel has known that you are the very thing he’s been destined to find, and he’s been very strict on himself, keeping away from you, giving you nothing but the cold, empty shell he’s been for hundreds of centuries. He’s been addicted since you wandered into his senses, the thunder of your blood calling to him like a beacon, the unmoving heart in his chest rattling with a recognition only he seemed to feel.
Azriel’s not even had close to his fill. The nagahound he drained on the way hasn’t done anything to satiate his hunger, not like your blood had. He can’t stop thinking about it, about the warmth, its heady taste, it’s fruity scent. He’d felt like a man again, despite the irony of the situation.
He emerges from the trees, landing in the backyard of the towering home of his High Lord. Azriel stumbles on weak knees like an Illyrian babe just learning how to fly. Once he rights his footing, he sprints for the doors.
The warmth of the faelights spilling across the cobblestones are a welcoming view. They always are, especially when he feels like he’s spent years too long hiding away in his secluded home, away from the hustle and bustle of the City of Starlight. All of his other clan members reside here, but their company has never interested him. Not when they’ve all become respectable parts of the city of night.
Rhysand meets him at the door, the High Lord’s hearing keener than most. He already knows there’s something wrong by Azriel’s stature. The dilation of his pupils, eyes mostly black instead of the familiar and less-than-friendly hazel. The clear flush to his skin after a feeding, the pale glow of his skin golden with the obvious signs of ingesting human blood instead of animal blood and there’s a scent clinging to him that is utterly human.
“Azriel—”
“You have to help her.”
Rhysand startles at the rawness of Ariel’s request. His frantic gaze searches his High Lord’s, hands that he always hides reaching up to grasp onto Rhysand’s to drag him over the threshold. They hit the invisible barrier keeping him from moving into the house to shake his High Lord into action, having not have been invited into the house. Azriel bares his fangs, mind still a spinning loss of thoughts about you and your well-being.
“Help who?” Rhysand asks. He doesn’t bother inviting his friend inside. He stalks out into the night, joining his brother.
Azriel’s plea is broken. “Please.”
Rhysand has only seen Azriel like this one time. The night he was turned into the creature he is now. Pain fills his voice, tightening his throat, dark brows knitted together in a distressed manner. There are often instances where Rhysand wishes that his stoic friend would show some semblance of emotion, but this gut-wrenching one is not the one he wishes to see.
“Okay,” he consoles, using the way Azriel is clinging to him help with their trip back. His shadowsinger’s fingers are digging deeply into his skin, through his finely pressed jacket and nearly breaking his skin. There’s a pinch of pain when his blunt nail does break skin, but Rhysand refrains from saying anything. He will heal, and fast. The human Azriel is leading him to will not. “I will help you, Azriel.”
On a whisp of nighttime, the pair appear on Azriel’s porch.
Azriel growls at the magical powers that keep them from entering homes that they do not own.
“Get inside,” he spits, more to the house than his High Lord, leading the way through the door as quickly as he can. “She’s in the sitting room, before the hearth. She needs help,” he directs, leading the way to where he’s left you.
In Azriel’s haste to get inside, he’s failed to realize one very important thing. It’s the one thing Rhysand catches, halting in his tracks, trying to calm the hellhound that is his shadowsinger when he spins on his heel and snaps his fangs at him.
Summary: Anon req: "Okay but imagine vamp Az fucking you from behind in front of a mirror but you can’t see his reflection, only the way your body is shaking from the way he’s making you feel, moaning in your ear about how pretty you look taking his cock, making you watch yourself orgasm again and again and again"
“Did you think he could fuck you better than I can, or were you just trying to upset me?” Azriel’s voice is like gravel against your skin. His hands are planted firmly on your hips, holding you to his body with such an ease that if you hadn’t known he had immortal strength, you’d be slipping right out your cracked bedroom door and dashing for the buttery light creeping into your room.
Your heart is so loud, beating so frantic, so harsh, that you’re afraid it might just jumpstart Azriel’s in his chest behind you.
It wasn’t your fault that the other vampires of his clan had taken an interest in you. You were one of the few females to attend this evening, and you were definitely the only human. They could probably scent you from the hall, across the acres separating their homes as you arrived with the shadowsinger. If Azriel hadn’t wanted them to talk to you, to flirt with you, he shouldn’t have brought you along.
Of course, it’s your fault.
Your fault for smiling at the golden skinned, bright haired male from Adriata, your fault for plucking a grape off of a skewer from the stocky Illyrian male with luscious locks who looked all too much like the vampire who had stolen you. Your fault for accepting the chalice filled nearly to the brim with a heady, warm, red cocktail that you thought might’ve been blood. You hadn’t taken a single sip, but rather done it to be polite to the important looking male with auburn hair and eyes that matched.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’m sure you didn’t, crow.” His voice is lined with anger, jealousy. Azriel has made it very clear who you are and what you mean, how you won’t ever escape him and how you should accept that fate. Your fingers tremble where they’re curled into your skirts as his golden eyes stare pins into your head. He has you turned toward the lone mirror in your room but his reflection doesn’t show. Instead of seeing the anger on his face you can feel it in the tension of his body, through corded muscles and hard fingers. “But you will learn, fast.”
His fingers trail the bodice of your dress and your breath hitches in your throat. You hate the way that your body seems to react to his closeness, the wet pooling between your legs and the way you press further into him without your knowledge.
Azriel continues on and you’re frozen, watching in the mirror as he pops open the button at the top of your dress. The full curve of your breasts appear, skin smooth and biteable. Your eyes shutter as his fingertips trace gently across the tops of them, gasping when he dips his hands into the fabric to get a fistful of your flesh.
“Oh,” you breathe as he skirts across your nipples. They harden beneath his rough touch and you clench your legs together to keep them from buckling.
His whisper is a taunt, breath hot against your skin. “You like that, don’t you?”
You clench your jaw, snapping your fallen lids open as you come to reality. Yes, some sick, twisted part of you might want this, want his hands on your body, his cock in your cunt, and his teeth in your neck, but you can’t. This male has stolen you away, taken you from everything you’ve once known and had once loved. You’re nothing now, nothing more than his human pet to play with and flaunt and fuck as he pleases.
“No,” you say, but your mind is screaming yes.
“The only person you’re lying to is yourself,” he taunts, nipping at your neck. It gives you goosebumps. As if to prove his statement, his hands find the center of your dress and he tugs. Buttons go flying and you squeal as your breasts fall from containment, but in the mirror it’s only you. “Watch what I’m going to your body,” his voice is a whisper of darkness that makes the candles flicker and shivers sprint up your spine. “You’ll see exactly how much you want this, crow.”
You can’t swallow past the lump in your throat. You’re left watching as he rids you of the rest of your clothes with ease, such strength but so gentle as his hands caress your skin. Each touch leaves your stomach twisting, yearning for more.
Everything stills when he removes himself from your body and circles you, gleaming eyes drinking you in like the summer sun he longs to feel across his face. You whimper as the hard press of his cock leaves you and mentally curse yourself. He shouldn’t be having this much of an effect on you, especially as his fingertips brush your hips but he places his entire palm across your abdomen as he stares down at you, dark hair hanging across his forehead and his dark eyelashes thick.
You think he might lean down, eat the space between you to press his lips to yours, but he holds back, studying you. You don’t know what for, and a part of you wants to duck your head and shy away from those intense eyes, but the other part of you wants to lift your chin and stare right back.
Azriel finds what he’s searching for, fang peeking out of his lip when he smirks wickedly. Your heart tumbles and a retort sits on the tip of your tongue but he’s lowering himself to his knees.
He helps you take a seat, and spreads your legs with little effort. He’s kneeling before you like he’s about to pray, to dip between your thighs and taste your slick like the holy water that burns him. His nostrils flare as he takes a long look, eyes flickering down your body until you’re sure that your cheeks are bloodred.
It’s too much, his look too heated and you need to break the tension. “I—”
“I want you to stay sitting,” he interrupts.
“Why?” you ask, arms already shaking with anticipation. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to keep yourself sitting, especially if he puts his head between your legs like you’re hoping.
His fangs flash before he can control himself, not used to anyone asking such questions.
“You’re going to watch how prettily you take my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. All from the view of this mirror,” he says, lowering himself further. He kisses the meat of your thigh roughly and you grunt, trying to pull it away but he takes each leg in his grasp and tugs them over his shoulders, toes brushing the skin of his wings. His eyelashes flutter but his stare is demanding. “Look at yourself. See how much you want this, want me, and maybe you’ll finally realize how much you want this.”
You want to bite back at him with some snarky retort but he’s licking a stripe up your center and you’re crying out at the sensation. Azriel hums and the vibrations stimulate your clit. Already, your head is thrown back on your shoulders and your breathing is uneven, all from one taste.
“Look at yourself, or there will be no more.”
No more? Isn’t that what you should want? Him to stop? It is, but your body is moving on its own, sliding closer to his mouth as your head straightens and you meet your own burning reflection in the mirror.
“More,” you demand, but it’s shaky at best.
You can feel his smirk against your skin as he dips his mouth again, dipping into your wet heat this time and tracing praise across your clit. He sucks, hard, and the noise that comes from you is broken, thighs pressing closed on his head and toes curling against his wings. It makes him shudder and you’ve won this one, but then he’s flicking his tongue so fast against your clit in time with your pounding heart, you almost can’t take it.
Azriel adds his fingers into the mix and you watch in the mirror how your cunt welcomes him. Your slick gleams in the reflection, his tongue still attacking your clit as he works one, then two, and a third into you, a steady pace until he’s curling his fingers into that bundle of nerves that makes your arms give out and your body writhe.
“Good gods,” you pant, hands finding his hair. You hold on tightly, grinding your cunt against his face. He feels good, too good. His centuries of practice have surely paid off.
Your chest heaves when he pulls away, eyes shut in bliss. You shouldn’t have wanted it, it shouldn’t have felt that good, but you’re still reeling in it, enjoying the post orgasm haze as he quickly undresses.
You don’t even understand what’s going on until he’s grabbing you and flipping you with such ease it shocks you, clearing your mind in an instant as you realize how you’ll never be able to fight against him and escape, his brute strength is impossibly superior to yours.
“Look,” he commands, pulling your head up with the fistfull of your hair he has. It strains deliciously in his fingers and your mouth falls open in a desperate gasp as he thrusts into you. Tears prick your eyes at the sensation, the frustration because the part of you that twinges with lust whenever he’s around wants to know if he’s enjoying this—you. You want to see him, watch the way his firmly set jaw twitches as he comes closer to his orgasm, the way that broad chest heaves and the length of his awfully long cock as he slides it almost all the way out only to fuck his way back into you—only his reflection doesn’t show. “Look at yourself, such a pretty little human, all wrecked and drunk off my cock. Tell me, crow. When they told you about the monsters lurking in the night, did they mention my fucking cock was the most dangerous of all?”
“No,” you pant, leaning further into his body. Your eyes roll back into your head as his arm moves across your stomach, cementing you to the front of his chest like you’ve always belonged. You can say that you hate him all you want, screaming it morning, noon, and night, but the fact of the matter is, is that your body fits near perfect against his and reacting to him in waves, pleasure building on top of pleasure in his presence.
“If they had,” he growls, tone low. It rumbles up your spine and you arch, head thrown back. Azriel towers over you, and you only catch a glimpse of his black hair dipping into his eyes before he’s wrenching your head straight and forcing you to look at yourself again. You can’t help but whine, but it melts into something languid as he hits the bundle of nerves, sensitive from your orgasms already. “Would you still have wandered into the forest that night?”
No, your mind screams at you. You wouldn’t have stumbled into the woods at all, had you had a choice, if you had known that he would be on the other side of that moonlit path. You would’ve much rather suffered in the human lands instead of letting him slowly set your soul on fire like this.
“Stop,” you cry, chest tight as you’re reminded of that night. You clamp your hands onto his, trying to claw his fingers from your body, but he’s unrelenting, distracting you with a kiss.
“There is no stopping this. I am going to be your pleasure, your pain, your laughter, and your solace. No one is going to worship you like I do. I am going to give you everything you need or nothing you want if you command it. I am the court that you thrive in and the home you never want to leave. I’m going to be the first thing that you see when the sun cracks through these windows and the last thing you see when the moon kisses the sky. I’m going to be the air that you breathe, the blood in your veins, until your beating heart stops by my lips and my lips alone.”
Your fingers twist tighter in his dark locks as you cum hard, his words consuming you. His sharp canines scrape against the skin of your throat and it only adds to the arousing sensation that’s wracking through your body. You’re shaking, unable to form dizzy thoughts into a coherent sentence as he continues his ministrations, so deeply into you that you swear you can feel him in your throat.
His confession, an onslaught of utter dominance, utter need. Azriel said it not as if you have an option in the matter. You’re going to be his and he’s going to give you everything you’ve yearned for but nothing in the human lands could ever compare. And even though you’ve hated the very marrow in his bones since you’ve met him, you can admit that the feeling of being wanted with every fiber of someone’s being is…nice.
“Azriel,” you cry, tears spilling down your cheeks. He licks them away with a growl. His thrusts are long and hard and he doesn’t slow, if anything, the clenching of your cunt around his cock as you cum again makes him move faster, harsher, because he’s going to take as many orgasms from you as he can until you’re so fucked out you won’t be able to try and escape. “Please.”
Your fingers are trembling from where they’ve fallen to your sides, digging deeply into his hips as you hold onto him for dear life. He smothers your mouth, stealing a kiss that ravages you, but you’re keening and whimpering against his lips from the sensitivity. “Take it, crow. I’m not done with you yet.”
But you can’t, not even when his fingers find your clit and start to rub soft circles, working you up again. You writhe against the sensation, drawing your fingers up in long scratches against the perfectly tan skin. It does nothing but spur him on, and with his mouth pressed firmly against yours, you resort to the only thing you can think of that might get him to stop.
You bite him.
Hard.
Azriel grunts, hips faltering once, before he buries himself deeply into you. You can feel the splitting on his skin, the burst of blood on your tongue, and his hands are snaking up your body and grabbing hold of your breasts, tweaking your nipples once before he’s ripping his mouth from yours. His eyes are dark, pupils thick and you swallow the heady mouthful of blood harshly, realizing that your actions haven’t upset him in the slightest.
He looks…hungrier.
“Did that satisfy you, crow?”
Your breath sticks in your throat, watching intently as his tongue darts out to lap up the stray blood. The sight of it reminds you of how he was between your legs, licking up your wetness like it was somehow better than the blood he lives off of.
It makes your cunt clench and his grin turns purely wild, showing off those sharp teeth, painted crimson.
Azriel manhandles you to the floor, ignoring your whimpers and pleas for him to stop. Your cunt hurts, but the warmth dripping between your legs with his hot cock pressed tightly inside of you feels all too good.
His heavy body pins you face down. He’s a warm wight, and his hand slides around your throat, lifting your head and forcing you to stare at yourself in the mirror. You look utterly wrecked; fucked out beyond belief. Tears staining your reddened cheeks, lips swollen from the harsh kiss you’ve shared with the vampire plastered to your back. Your hair is a knot at the top of your head, unruly from his relentless pulling. You can see the imprint of his hand against your skin when Azriel holds your neck firmer, pinching off your airflow to cut off your incessant pleaing.
Even though your body feels like giving out, the way the new position makes his cock fit into you causes you to see stars. It could quite possibly be the lack of air you’re able to take in, dark suns bursting behind your eyelids, but his cock is hitting every spot that you need, and the hand planted beside your head snakes down to rub through the slickness between your thighs again, right to your clit.
Azriel’s not gentle. His motions become jerkier, breath heavy against your cheek as his orgasm builds. He’s losing control, and fast. He pinches your clit before soothing it over with a brush of his thumb, and he nips at your skin, softly at first, then harsher, but not drawing blood, never drawing blood because he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to stop himself should he get a taste of you.
He’ll drink you fucking dry if he does.
Black smothers your vision and you can hardly see yourself in the mirror. Your hands are pinned beneath your body, completely at his disposal. But there’s another orgasm building with his fervent fingers and raucous thrusts. Against your better mind, you cum again, harder than the last.
Azriel groans, releasing your neck from his grasp, letting your body slacken as he plants both hands to drive into you until he’s falling over the edge himself, crowing your name with a caw that rattles the walls of his aging manor. Your body goes slack as you gasp, the rush of air adding to the deliverance of what you hope to be your final orgasm of the night.
He leans in close, breathing a caress of darkness against the shell of your ear.
