brklynbxby

When he mentioned Luna again, a softer smile finally touched her mouth. “A good girl, huh?” she murmured, arching a brow lightly. “Didn’t know that was your type these days.” She took another sip of beer before setting the bottle down, suddenly realizing she needed something stronger if this conversation was going to continue. Ella lifted two fingers toward the bartender without looking away from Azriel. “Two glasses of your best whiskey.” Then her gaze settled back on him fully. “So,” she said lightly, “when do I get to meet the girl who stole your heart?” And she meant it. Ella was happy for him. Truly. Deeply. Maybe more than anyone else could understand. Because Azriel deserved something good. Something soft. She had wanted that for him long before Luna ever existed. But there was still a selfish, ugly part of her that hated the distance growing between them. Diego had Liyana. Now Azriel had Luna. And Ella? Ella had Morta Fenice. Maybe that was all she would ever have. Maybe she was always destined to remain exactly what Ryder made her into, something useful. Something owned. A beautiful weapon dressed up like a person. The bartender returned with the whiskey glasses, amber liquid catching beneath the low golden lights of the bar. Ella slid one toward Azriel with a small nod before lifting hers slightly. “To you two.”

At her response to the mention of Luna, he let out a scoff and shook his head. She knew him better than anyone, sometimes better than he knew himself. His gaze tracked the movement of her hand as she flagged down the bartender, catching the order as it was placed. Of course. A night between them wouldn't really be a night between them without whiskey somewhere in the equation. "I'm not doing the whole mixing-worlds thing," he said simply. There was no edge to it, no hostility. He just didn't think it was a particularly good idea. Luna and Ella were very different people, and he was acutely aware of the distinct places they occupied in his life. More importantly, there were parts of his relationship with Ella that Luna might not appreciate, and he had no intention of risking something that didn't need to be risked. Before he could elaborate, the bartender slid their drinks across the counter. Azriel's hand was around his glass almost immediately. He lifted it, taking a slow sip as the burn of whiskey settled warmly in his chest. "Anyway," he said, shifting the focus back to her. "Enough about me. What's been going on with you?"

Azriel finally lowered himself onto the barstool infront of Ella, then tipped the beer bottle back for another long swallow. He knew this was not going to be easy. Ella had never been someone he could charm his way around completely, not when she knew him this well. She would notice the gaps in his explanations. Still, he was willing to take the hit if it meant keeping the rest of it untouched. “I didn’t mean to disappear.” The words felt clumsy coming out of him because there was no clean way to explain this. No version of the truth he could hand her without unraveling things and information he should never have known in the first place. Azriel rolled the bottle slowly between his hands before finally lifting his eyes back to Ella’s. “I’ve been needed” he said simply. Nothing more. No elaboration.

Her eyes flicked toward him briefly before falling away again. “Afterward we sat outside smoking cigarettes..” A soft breath escaped her. “And I told you I wanted to fall in love someday. Have a family. Live something that looked remotely normal.” Slowly, she turned her head toward him again. “Guess you beat me to it.” This time the smile that appeared was real. Small, but real. “You look happier, Azriel,” she said softly. “Exhausted as hell… but happier.”

But then she brought up the night with Ryder. The night he almost killed a man with his bare hands if he had the chance. Nothing had ever angered him more quite like the way that man had laid his hands on Ella, the venom in his voice when he spoke to her. “Of course I remember that night,” he spat. Yet the conversation veered somewhere he hadn’t expected. A chuckle slipped from him as he shook his head, gesturing toward Ella with the neck of his beer bottle before taking another swig. “I think you’d like her,” he said at last. He neither denied nor confirmed the others comments. “She’s a good girl.”

Her shoulders loosened slightly as she exhaled through her nose, gaze dropping briefly to the bottle in her hands before finding him again. “Seriously, Azriel… how do you just disappear like that?” she asked, softer this time. “I was worried.” And there it was. Not anger. Not really. Something worse. Because she knew him. Knew there was always a reason behind the silence, behind the vanishing acts and half-answered messages. Azriel had never belonged to anyone long enough to stay still. But this felt different somehow. Like while she had been standing still waiting for him to come back, he had kept moving forward without her. Like maybe there wasn’t space for her in his life anymore. The thought sat heavy and unfamiliar in her chest. Ella looked at him for a long moment before speaking again, quieter now. “What’s going on with you, Azriel?”

Azriel finally lowered himself onto the barstool infront of Ella, then tipped the beer bottle back for another long swallow. He knew this was not going to be easy. Ella had never been someone he could charm his way around completely, not when she knew him this well. She would notice the gaps in his explanations. Still, he was willing to take the hit if it meant keeping the rest of it untouched. “I didn’t mean to disappear.” The words felt clumsy coming out of him because there was no clean way to explain this. No version of the truth he could hand her without unraveling things and information he should never have known in the first place. Azriel rolled the bottle slowly between his hands before finally lifting his eyes back to Ella’s. “I’ve been needed” he said simply. Nothing more. No elaboration.

Ella scoffed softly, lifting her beer toward him in mock acknowledgment. “Look who finally remembered I exist.” Her eyes followed the movement of his hand as he ordered two beers- one for himself, the other very obviously meant as an apology he would never actually say out loud. Typical Azriel. And God, she was pissed at him. She should have stayed angry. But standing there beneath the dim lights of the bar, he looked… different. Better. Happier, somehow. Like the constant darkness that had clung to him for years had finally loosened its grip. There was still danger in him, still sharp edges and chaos beneath the surface, but it didn’t consume him the same way anymore. The girl, she realized. The thought sat strangely in her chest. Ella ran a hand through her hair before exhaling quietly, shaking her head like she was irritated with herself more than him. “You disappear for months, ignore half my texts, and think buying me a beer fixes it?” she asked, arching a brow at him. “Bold strategy.” But there was no real bite behind it. Not with him.

Azriel leaned back against the bar, broad shoulders settling against the wood behind him while he dragged his thumb slowly across the condensation gathering on the bottle. His gaze flicked briefly toward her beer before returning to her face again. “You look good pissed though" he added quietly. Azriel tilted the bottle toward her slightly before taking another drink, dark eyes still fixed on hers over the rim.

His response had been simple. A middle finger emoji. Which, coming from Azriel, was about as close to a yes as she was ever going to get. Ella sat at the counter with a beer in hand, long legs crossed beneath the stool as she took slow sips, waiting. The low hum of music and conversation filled the air around her while strangers.. mostly men, kept glancing her way, debating whether they were brave enough to approach her.

So here he was. Their bar. His eyes found Ella instantly... of course they did. She sat at the counter, beer held between her fingers as expected. God, he'd missed her. Not that he would ever willingly admit that to her. Azriel adjusted the sleeves of his white shirt as he crossed the room slowly, unhurried confidence as usual. Several buttons undone at his chest, exposing just enough of his skin, black trousers tailored sharp against him. When he finally reached her, he leaned one elbow against the bar without sitting down just yet. “Hey, stranger” he drawled smoothly. “Still as approachable as ever.” Azriel glanced toward her beer before lifting two fingers toward the bartender. “Two of whatever she’s drinking.” One for himself. One as an apology he would never phrase properly. Only then did he look back at her fully, meeting her eyes at last.

Luna leaned lightly against the doorway, brows furrowing as Azriel started gathering pillows from her bed like he was preparing for a camping trip instead of a drive. “What exactly do we need pillows for?” she asked slowly, eyeing him with growing suspicion. “I thought we were just going for a drive?” Even so, her hand automatically reached for the pair of warm fuzzy socks lying near the edge of the bed, pulling them on without much thought. She had a feeling she would need them. She looked back at him while tugging the socks into place, lips curving faintly. “You’re being weirdly secretive right now, and I don’t know if I should be concerned or impressed.”

He stopped his steps in front of her and pressed one of the pillows into her arms. “I think we should make this more than just a drive.” Leaning down, he brushed his lips gently against her forehead before pulling back to meet her eyes. “We keep driving wherever the road takes us…” His voice softened slightly, the idea unfolding in real time despite how long it had already lived inside his head. “And tomorrow, we turn it into a road trip.” The words lingered between them for a moment. Azriel almost laughed quietly to himself at how spontaneous it sounded coming from him. He could practically taste the uncertainty, could feel the unfamiliar weight of spontaneity pressing against the carefully controlled parts of him that usually demanded plans, schedules and exits.

“Where exactly are we driving to? And since when are you this spontaneous?” she asked, stepping toward him as she slipped past the coffee table. Her fingers caught lightly around the sleeve of his hoodie for a brief second before letting go again. “Or was the movie not to your liking, Mr-I-suddenly-feel-like-going-for-a-drive." There was teasing in her voice, but underneath it sat something softer. Excitement. The kind she only really let herself feel around him.

Once inside the bedroom, he lowered her carefully back onto the floor before turning and gathering a few pillows while already mentally calculating how long they had before the sun dipped.

Her gaze moved between the two men, something tender settling in her expression as she watched them eat, laugh, exist in the same space without tension. “This,” she said quietly, almost to herself, “is one of those moments I used to wish for. Normal. Warm. Safe.” She lifted her glass again just slightly. “So eat up. I worked very hard to impress you both.” Then, lighter again, she added with a grin, “And Diego, don’t get any ideas. I’m not moving back to Medellín just to cook for your ass.”

Nate’s expression tightened, a slight frown touched his face as his gaze lowered to his plate. Instead of voicing his confusion, he listened. Waiting and trying to understand where exactly this conversation was heading towards, why this man had appeared on their doorstep and what his real intentions were. There was concern simmering beneath his composure but intrigue was there too. And for now, he was willing to give Diego the time to reveal what needed to be said.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice low and steady. “I like it. A lot.” Her lips curved, slow and unapologetic. “The thought of you touching her while I know you’re thinking of me.. hands polite, smile perfect, cock hard for the wrong woman.. that’s the kind of cruel I want to taste from across a crowded room.” She leaned in, mouth grazing his jaw in the barest kiss. “Play it well, Cassian. Make her believe every word. I’ll be watching. And when our eyes meet… you will know I’m already wet thinking about how you will come back here afterward and fuck me like you hate yourself for wanting it.” She stepped back, giving him the path to the door. “Keep her busy,” she echoed softly, smile turning wicked. “I’ll keep the bed warm.” she winked one last time then opened her bedroom door and stepped out with him. "Thanks for coming today.. I will see you again soon."

Cassian’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, those stayed dark, intent, fixed on her like a vow he had no intention of breaking. “I never half ass a performance.” His fingers brushed her cheek, a fleeting contact that still carried promise, heat sparking where it shouldn’t have lingered. “She won't suspect a thing and we'll have another arrangement sometime soon.” He leaned in, breath warm at her temple, the faint scent of cedar and clean linen wrapping around her like a memory she’d replay later. “I’ll know where my attention truly lives. And so will you.” At the door, he glanced at her, eyes catching hers with ruinous certainty. “Keeping watching for me out there because just like you” he added, already stepping away. “I never disappoint an audience.”

He took a step back, tilting his head, eyes never leaving hers. “But,” he added, the faintest smirk teasing the corner of his mouth, “control is overrated, right?” His fingers lingered at the collar of his shirt but he let them brush just enough for her to notice they’d followed the path hers had once taken. “Maybe I’ll watch.” Then, just for a heartbeat, he leaned in — close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath, the faint trace of his cologne, the heat of his chest — and whispered, “I’d love to add meaning to the crowd of yours, Sophia. My arms around my girlfriend, kissing her and whispering in her ear about the things I wish to do to her later.” He straightened, smooth and precise, as though nothing had happened, yet the air between them still vibrated with the unspoken, dangerous promise. His gaze lingered one last time, tracing her from head to toe and back up again before nodding towards the door. “Now am I to climb through the window?”

She closed the small distance he had created, pressing her palm flat to his chest again, right over his heart, feeling the quicker beat beneath his carefully controlled exterior. “Fuck,” she admitted quietly, “I don’t want to let you go, but…” She pulled back then, the smile returning, soft and dangerous. “As for the window…” Her gaze flicked toward it, then back to him with mock innocence. “You could. Dramatic. Sexy, even.” A soft laugh followed as she shrugged. “But the front door works just fine.” She tilted her head, eyes glinting. “Don’t worry. She won’t tell anyone.. she’s my best friend.”

“Because if that’s the case,” he added quietly, “you should know I will play it very well.” Cassian’s jaw tightened a fraction — all instinct, no drama. “We don’t need conversation” he said under his breath. “Keep her busy” he instructed softly. He straightened, already stepping back into the version of himself that belonged to the outside world. “After you.”

“So go,” she said simply. “Be good. Be careful. Take her to dinner, kiss her goodnight, do whatever keeps the questions at bay. I’ll be on stage at eight either way.” She reached out then, fingertips brushing the open collar of his shirt lightly, before letting her hand fall away. “But if you do show up… even if it’s just for one song,” Her smile turned slow and wicked again. “I’ll make sure the performance is worth every second of risk.” A Pause. "Choice is yours.. Mr Manager."

He took a step back, tilting his head, eyes never leaving hers. “But,” he added, the faintest smirk teasing the corner of his mouth, “control is overrated, right?” His fingers lingered at the collar of his shirt but he let them brush just enough for her to notice they’d followed the path hers had once taken. “Maybe I’ll watch.” Then, just for a heartbeat, he leaned in — close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath, the faint trace of his cologne, the heat of his chest — and whispered, “I’d love to add meaning to the crowd of yours, Sophia. My arms around my girlfriend, kissing her and whispering in her ear about the things I wish to do to her later.” He straightened, smooth and precise, as though nothing had happened, yet the air between them still vibrated with the unspoken, dangerous promise. His gaze lingered one last time, tracing her from head to toe and back up again before nodding towards the door. “Now am I to climb through the window?”

When she finally stepped back, giving him space and an alternative, his mouth curved into a knowing smirk. “You and I both know I don’t want to do that.” Cassian had never been subtle. If he wanted something, he took it — hesitation was for other people. His hand slid to her waist, firm and possessive, drawing her back against him until there was no space left between their bodies. He felt her warmth, the quiet hitch of her breath, the electric awareness that settled low in his spine. “You win either way,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “So how do you win standing on that stage and not driving me insane?”

She rocked up onto her toes, pressing her bare breasts against his chest, letting him feel the way her nipples hardened at the contact. “And when the set ends?” Her voice dropped lower, velvet-rough. “When the house lights come up and everyone’s clapping… you’ll catch my eye for one second, maybe two.. before you have to turn away and play the perfect boyfriend. That single look will be enough to make you ache all night.” One hand slipped between them, palm sliding down his stomach until her fingers curled loosely over the front of his trousers. “You’ll go home with her,” she continued, stroking him once through the fabric, slow, deliberate. “You’ll fuck her if she wants it. You’ll tell her it was a good night. But the whole time, it’ll be my face you see. My body you feel. My voice echoing in your head.” She squeezed gently, then released him and stepped back just enough to break the contact.. leaving him wanting. “That’s how I win standing on stage,” she said, smile turning wicked and soft all at once. “Because you won’t be able to stop thinking about me. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not until you come back here.."

“I invited you because you let me celebrate my birthday at your restaurant. No one bats an eye at a chef coming to see a friend perform. It’s polite. Professional. Completely innocent on paper.” Her breath ghosted over his skin. “You two sit in the back if you want. Arrive together. Hold her hand. Pretend it’s just a nice night out.” She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, blue eyes steady and unapologetic. “I’ll be on stage singing, and you’ll be the only one who knows why your pulse is racing every time our eyes meet.” She stepped out of his hold with a small, graceful movement, giving him space. “Or don’t come at all,” she said simply. “Go back to your job, your life, your perfectly reasonable explanations. I’ll still be performing, and you’ll still be thinking about me. Either way, I win.”

When she finally stepped back, giving him space and an alternative, his mouth curved into a knowing smirk. “You and I both know I don’t want to do that.” Cassian had never been subtle. If he wanted something, he took it — hesitation was for other people. His hand slid to her waist, firm and possessive, drawing her back against him until there was no space left between their bodies. He felt her warmth, the quiet hitch of her breath, the electric awareness that settled low in his spine. “You win either way,” he murmured, his voice dropping. “So how do you win standing on that stage and not driving me insane?”

She sat up slowly, knees drawn loosely to her chest, arms wrapped around them. The motion made her wince faintly at the tender ache between her legs, a delicious reminder. “You’re really leaving?” Her voice came out quieter than she intended, soft, almost vulnerable beneath the usual tease. She tilted her head, studying him. “Just like that?” She let the silence stretch a beat, then unfolded her legs and slid to the edge of the bed, feet touching the floor. Naked, unashamed, she stood and closed the distance between them in two slow steps. Her fingers brushed his wrist, light, barely there, before sliding up to rest against his chest, right over his heart. "I have this concert on saturday. Would love to see you there."

Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging lightly to bring his mouth back to hers. This kiss was slower, languid, tasting of sweat and shared secrets, before she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “You’re still inside me,” she whispered, rolling her hips in a lazy, deliberate circle. His release leaked warm between her thighs.. she could feel it, dripping, marking the sheets. “Feels like you don’t want to leave... I dont want you to leave."