Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Following the events of yours and the Shadowsinger’s tryst, you face a myriad of new revelations: a mating bond and mating frenzy included.
Pairing: Azriel x f!reader
Word Count: 8.8k
Warnings: eventual smut, p in v, fingering, oral (m&f), slight choking, rough sex, wing play, shadow play, lil bit of submissive Az, downright mating frenzy filth
A/N: I didn’t have ANY plans on making a sequel until @garricktavisfanclub requested one and suddenly…the idea didn’t sound so bad. So please enjoy some mating frenzy Az. 🤭
The hot sun beat down on your skin, despite the early hour.
Sweat trickled down your forehead at both the temperature and the fact that you’d been moving your body endlessly for the last ninety minutes.
Training was well underway and you hadn’t stopped since Cassian had started barking out different orders for your warm up exercises. Your three friends had been beside you, doing them with you with just as much determination as you’d felt.
Now, you were practicing strikes with a real blade, running through all the maneuvers of the eight pointed star you’d been taught.
You were still a tad behind Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie, but you were so much more advanced now than you’d been only a month before. Your biggest accomplishment had been nailing each and every maneuver of sword strikes—first with the practice sword and now with the real thing.
It’d taken some time to get used to the weight of the real blade, especially while performing the moves you now knew by heart. But, you’d progressed so much that soon you’d be able to rejoin your friends in their lessons.
“Perfect. Give me a combination of block one, slice three, thrust two.”
Where it had once seemed to be impossible to keep up with the rapid fire commands barked at you, your body now knew the moves before your mind even fully processed them.
You executed the challenging combination absolutely perfectly, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. If there’d been anything mid-air to shred, it would’ve been left in ribbons.
“Block one. Slice three. Thrust one.”
Your mind filtered out anything else other than concentration on the moves as your body fluidly hit each and every movement. Sweat slid down your spine, beneath your leathers, but you didn’t let it distract you.
“Block three. Slice two. Block two.”
You performed each and every maneuver that Cassian called out to you, finally lowering your blade when you finished. Your chest was heaving, heart racing and it felt good.
“Good,” Cassian emphasized, pride shining on his face.
You were pushing yourself hard today, harder than usual and you could tell the others had noticed.
Part of it was determination. Part of it was from…other sources.
Nesta had taken a break to watch you—everyone had apparently. The entire ring was filled with your friends and the priestesses watching you. They all looked varying shades of proud, your friends beaming the hardest. You felt the surge of pride in your chest too.
Now, you saw why Nesta had said it felt so powerful to be able to hone such skills.
The female had moved to get you a cup of water and brought it to you, noticing your extremely flushed face, skin slick with sweat. Maybe it was a good idea to slow down a little bit right about now.
“Are you alright?” she murmured to you when she’d approached with the water, “You seem slightly on edge.”
“Fine,” you said tensely, taking the water graciously, slugging it down.
You’d felt the deep seated need—the urge really—to move your body lately. You knew exactly what it was, too. The need to excel energy in a way you weren’t capable of doing right now, even if your body screamed for it.
Your skin felt like it was on fire, buzzing too much, too aware of every sensation. The craving went so deep inside you, you couldn’t have willed it away if you’d tried.
For that was the mating bond roaring in your head making you feel and act half crazy.
Your mate had been gone for nearly a week.
Your mate. It still sounded so odd to you.
You weren’t used to it—still shocked by the revelation. The entire week you’d felt like you could peel the skin from your body.
Three weeks after Nesta’s sleepover invitation where Azriel had rocked your world, life had gone on with no other advancements from the Illyrian. You’d started to feel embarrassed and ashamed for thinking that he had meant his words of next time, afterwards, when it was clear that it was just him talking through the daze of post orgasm.
It was just something that had been said in the heat of the moment and he hadn’t truly had any intention of seeking you out again.
It’d been almost three weeks to the day of the night in question when Nesta and Cassian had kindly invited you to family dinner at the River House. You had accepted, having heard Elain made wonderful dinners—and it sure sounded better than returning to your lonely apartment.
You’d promised yourself you’d try not to act awkward around the shadowsinger, no matter what had happened between the two of you.
After all, you saw him every day at training and he’d managed to remain professional and respectful, so you figured you could offer the same courtesy.
It had hit you like a lightning bolt—the mating bond, that is.
It had been before dinner when everyone was milling about. You’d been sitting next to the fire with Nesta chatting, Az across the room with Rhysand and Cassian, discussing something. It could’ve been court related, it could’ve just been idle chatter, but your eyes had still felt drawn to the shadowsinger, sliding across the room to find him.
You’d felt keenly aware of his presence despite him being a good distance away.
But it was only when your eyes found his, when his hazel ones had lifted to meet yours when you’d felt a zap. Not just from his intense stare, but one that felt like the stone door to your heart had slammed wide open, ready to receive the truth that you were just now privy to.
You still couldn’t describe it, couldn’t explain how suddenly everything in the world made sense, felt right. How it had felt like you’d never been complete until that moment.
Because in that suspended moment, it hit you like a stone to the head.
You were staring at your mate.
Azriel was your mate.
“Notice how you feel like you’re made for me?”
The remark he’d whispered to you while he moved inside you three weeks ago floated through your head as your eyes stayed locked on his.
He’d been closer to the truth than he’d even realized.
You felt like you’d stopped breathing as you were lost in his stare. You weren’t completely sure if he’d felt it too, but you thought you’d seen his eyes widen slightly—it could’ve just been your imagination though.
You had no idea how you made it through the dinner and you barely tasted the food that Elain and the half wraith twins—Nuala and Cerridwen—had prepared. Which was a shame because everything looked and smelled amazing. All you could focus on was the male you were now even more hyper aware of, across the table and down a few seats from you.
You’d gripped your fork so tightly you were amazed it hadn’t bent in half.
When you’d had to call his name—to get his attention and ask him to pass the rolls—you swore he’d almost dropped the glass in his hand at the sound of his name on your lips.
That had only been a week ago. You hadn’t had time to really process or even talk to him before he’d had to head out for a mission Rhysand needed him for, pronto.
In the months following the death of Briallyn, there was stirring activity from the remaining mortal queens and Rhysand wanted intel on them—wanted Az to find out as much information as he could. There wasn’t any inclination that trouble was brewing, but knowing your High Lord, you knew he liked to stay a few steps ahead of others as much as possible.
He’d been gone for six days.
You’d asked Cassian every day when Azriel was coming back and you were sure every day you asked, the more it raised his suspicions.
“You don’t look fine,” Nesta pushed.
You cut her a glare but her brow only raised.
“Is there any reason you’ve asked Cassian every day when Az will be back?”
You had no idea if your friend was aware of what had taken place between you and Azriel—the sex or the mating bond. Likely she knew about the first considering you were significantly glowier the next day, according to her.
But knowing Nesta Archeron, she knew. She was definitely suspicious about what was going on with you recently, too.
You shrugged at her question.
“I’m sure the priestesses miss him.”
“Me and Cassian have been talking about how strange you’ve been acting,” she hummed, folding her arms across her chest.
“Shouldn’t we be getting back to practice?” you asked, still finishing up your water.
“Finish your water and we can,” she said, pointing to your cup.
Meaning it would provide her enough time to ask more questions.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard, like you’re trying to outrun something. I recognize that.”
You gulped down another swallow of water, your friend too close to the truth for your comfort.
“Right after I accepted the mating bond with Cassian,” Nesta continued on, “After we consummated it.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you muttered.
Nesta just hummed and gave you a knowing look.
“It’s okay. Just know I’m here if and when you’re ready to talk. Alright?”
Her voice had lost the teasing tone to it, turning a shade more gentle, more serious.
You knew good and well you wouldn’t have to tell her anyways, she probably already had figured it out. For some odd reason, you felt on the verge of tears.
Your body was screaming for Azriel—in more ways than one—but most importantly because it felt like you were missing a limb. You’d felt restless, off kilter, uneasy for six whole days.
You were about to go crazy.
Not to mention the more physical urges that’d awoken in you. You’d spent too many nights remembering and picturing your night spent with Az.
Too many instances here lately where you’d found your hand between your legs, thinking of him. Which made you feel ashamed because you didn’t even know if he felt the same for you, if he even wanted this bond.
That was another added complication. You had no idea where you stood.
Right now, crying sounded the best.
But, instead, you looked your best friend straight in the eye, attempting to refocus your attention on the rest of today’s training session. You just nodded your thanks and Nesta’s voice was the softest you’d ever thought you’d heard it when she spoke, taking the empty cup from your hands.
“It’ll get better soon.”
•••
AZRIEL
He’d been on edge for six days.
She was his mate and he hadn’t even gotten to say anything to her, hadn’t even gotten to tell her bye before he was flying off to the continent.
His body buzzed with need so strong it sat his teeth on edge.
He hadn’t seen it coming at all.
It was no secret between him and his brothers that he’d wanted a mating bond, even if he’d never said it aloud. He kind of assumed they’d figured his continued aloofness and distancing himself here lately had to do with being surrounded by mating bonds everywhere.
He hadn’t even noticed her at first when she first started training.
Well, that was a lie. He’d seen her and knew she was a friend of Nesta’s, but hadn’t thought much more past the fact she was another female training with them every morning.
But then he’d started feeling drawn to her—and if he were honest, he had from the very moment he’d laid eyes on her. He remembered a brief, faint flicker of curiosity when he’d first seen the female, but hadn’t much registered it until all these months later.
He’d been too deep in loneliness and self-loathing for it to have as big of an impact on him as it might’ve normally would’ve. He’d even found his eyes finding her every now and then during those early morning training sessions, even as he instructed his own group of females.
She was beautiful, there was no denying that.
Azriel had simply chalked it up to attraction and nothing more.
Until that night a month ago, when he was returning from another mission, similar to today and a nosy little wisp of a shadow had gone snooping. That little bit of information had changed everything and set them on this path.
Az wondered a lot during this week what would’ve happened if they hadn’t acted on that mutual attraction, when and if the bond would’ve snapped as soon as it did.
He’d spent the week trying to keep as busy as possible and tried not to think of all the noises he’d evoked from her. The way she’d writhed and begged, said his name. Just the thought of her had him aching with need, his cock aching just as badly.
Once, he’d practically pumped himself dry to thoughts of her, her name burning on his tongue as he came all over his hand—three times that night.
The worst thing was, he couldn’t just come back and claim her. They weren’t anything, at least he didn’t think. They’d had sex once. Albeit, amazing sex, but did she even want to be his mate?
They had so much they needed to talk over.
He wasn’t proud to say that he’d rather just be buried in her instead but Cauldron damn him, he was about to go insane.
From the moment his eyes had met hers that night a week ago—when the bond had slammed into him like a physical blow—he’d been suffering.
Beyond the normal surety of her—just knowing she was his—all he could focus on was the intense need to claim her. To touch her, smell her, taste her. It was overwhelming.
It was stiflingly hot today and it wasn’t just from his constant state of arousal, but the weather sure didn’t help matters any.
He was nearly home and unsurprisingly the closer he got to Velaris—to the House—the more he felt his body relax. It wasn’t by much, but it was better than how he’d begun his flight.
His wings sounded with steady, thunderous beats as they carried him through the air and he felt his stomach swoop when the House’s training ring came into sight.
He was almost home—to her.
His boots landed with a thud on the stone and he was almost positive she whirled around to face him before he’d even landed.
He felt his heart lighten at the sight of her, much of the tension leaching from him. All he wanted to do was go to her and devour her, but she was in the middle of lessons, he wouldn’t disturb her.
Cassian glanced his way with a smile and a jerk of his chin in his direction.
“Welcome back Az. You look like hell.”
He was sure he did.
He heard another chorus of hellos and turned towards his usual group of priestesses who were offering up their quiet and soft greetings. He gave them a thin smile and dipped his head in acknowledgement as to not ignore them.
But he was so on edge.
Especially when he saw Cass smirking at her before he snapped his fingers in her face.
“Focus, princess.”
A low growl rumbled up his throat and he tried to smother it. But he didn’t want Cassian near her right now.
He walked over, ready to give him a piece of his mind when he heard the thud of another pair of boots from behind him and a smooth, deep male voice.
“Morning, ladies. Working hard I see.”
Az glanced over his shoulder, seeing Rhys approaching him. He’d thought he was supposed to meet his brother at the River House later this evening for the debriefing, but apparently it couldn’t wait.
His jaw clenched, fighting the natural urge to go to her. Something he was itching to do.
His shadows didn’t care about disturbing her, that’s for sure. One shot forward, curling around her ankle like a black cat. He saw her peer down at it, startled for a second before her eyes shot to his face.
“Az?”
Shit. Apparently Rhys had been talking.
There was a soft breeze to cool the hot morning air and her scent blew his way. He had to resist the urge to groan out loud. He tried hard to ignore the way his pants tightened just at her scent in his nose.
“I asked if everything went well,” Rhys repeated, “Have a nice trip back?”
“Yes.”
He offered nothing more, his eyes following his mate all the way across the training ring. Instincts he’d never had before were screaming at him and it felt almost painful to ignore their orders.
He definitely felt frayed at the edges.
“Azriel.”
He turned back to his friend and High Lord, who looked exasperated. Az took it, it wasn’t the first time Rhys had tried to get his attention again.
Az crossed his arms, trying to hide the tension in his body.
“Sorry. What?”
“I asked what you found out.”
“Not much. There hasn’t been any whispers of the remaining mortal queens. I’d say there’s still a slight chance to be worried about Koschei luring them to help him, though.”
He felt, more than saw, Rhys stiffen next to him.
Az tried to keep his eyes off her, but it was damn near impossible.
“And why is that?”
He broke his gaze away from his mate, who was practicing combinations of sword maneuvers that Cass was calling out to her.
“Because if Koschei thinks he can find a valuable ally in Briallyn—especially since she was under his influence most of the time she worked with him—it would be unwise not to consider that he would target one of them. It’s not a huge possibility, but it’s not impossible either.”
“Terrific,” Rhys sighed, “Another thing to worry about.”
“I’ve got spies on it,” Az muttered.
He could feel Rhys glancing at him sideways.
“What’s with you?”
“Nothing.”
Az’s tone was brisk, sharp and left no room for discussion.
“You’re more tense than normal and that’s saying something.”
“Leave it alone,” Az all but snapped.
He watched as she fumbled one movement, making her first mistake since he’d arrived.
“Close, but your hand slid out of position,” Azriel heard Cassian tell her, “Here, let me show you.”
He walked over, hands on hers to reposition them when then snarl broke free from Az’s throat.
“Get your hands off of her,” he snapped to which Cass’s head whipped around, surprised.
His brother looked ready to say something, but Az was already stalking forward.
“I can do it,” he muttered.
She was looking back and forth between him and Cass, hesitantly, like she’d done something wrong. But when he approached her he was gentle, respectful.
“Here,” he said, voice much softer, “You need to slide your hand down to here.”
His hand covered hers and he instantly got chills at touching her again. He tried to push away the overwhelming sensation as he repositioned her hands on the hilt of the sword so she’d have a better grip.
He also tried not to picture her delicate hands wrapped around his cock. But it didn’t help that he was sliding her hands down a very similar shaped object when his mind was already clouded with such intense thoughts, to begin with.
“Holding it like this will help you slice better and keep you from almost dropping it. Just tighten your grip and you’ll be fine.”
He hoped that last part only sounded dirty to just his mind.
Cassian was gaping at him.
Az ignored him as he backed up, with a grumble of, “Carry on.”
Rhys looked equally as baffled when he’d returned to the High Lord.
“What was that?”
Az said nothing, rolling his shoulders to try to break up the tension there, but he was practically vibrating with it. His teeth were clenched as he watched his brother carry her through more maneuvers.
He still didn’t like how close to her Cass was.
When Azriel didn’t answer him, Rhys asked the question he’d been expecting, though he heard the hesitancy in his voice.
“…Is there something going on between the two of you?”
“No.”
It wasn’t a complete lie.
“Then why are you staring daggers at Cass like he’s seconds away from asking for her hand in marriage?”
Az didn’t answer.
Rhys sighed.
“How long have you known?”
“Known what.” Az gritted out, eyes still zeroed in on the threat he perceived.
“That she’s your mate.”
Az’s eyes finally cut from the scene in front of him to Rhys. He didn’t even try to deny it.
“Since two hours before I left for this trip, last week.”
Rhys cursed.
“Cassian said something too about an evening visit last month…”
Az just cut him a look, teeth bared.
His primal senses were heightened from the bond screaming within him so it was hard to rein in the urge to punch something or someone. Preferably Cass.
“Did you fuck her?”
Az snarled in response.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Rhys crossed his arms, shaking his head.
“Let’s just hope Cass makes it through the rest of this lesson in one piece.”
He did. Make it through the lesson in one piece, that is.
Just barely though as Az paced back and forth restlessly waiting for the moment it was over so he could drag her back down the stairs and fuck the ever living sense out of her.
No, no, he needed to talk to her first. He’d have to try to do that first.
He about sprung after her the moment the females started to scatter, heading back indoors—whether into the House or down to the library again, for the priestesses.
He was getting ready to follow her inside, needing to talk to her. To touch her too if he was honest. Mother above, he just hoped he could act like a decent male for long enough as to not completely horrify her.
But then Cass stopped him, a strong hand on his arm.
“You want to explain to me why you nearly bit my head off for simply touching her?”
Az sighed.
He wasn’t going to be leaving the training ring anytime soon.
•••
You were utterly soaked with sweat after the two hours of training.
As you headed down the stairs toward the House, you decided a nice bath would be good for your sore muscles and maybe calm your burning skin.
The moment you’d heard Az’s boots thud on the ground, you’d whirled, unable to help yourself. Your chest had instantly lightened at seeing him.
His gaze had been just as intense on you.
You were taken by surprise when you’d felt the curl of one of his shadows around your ankle. It was sort of sweet, actually.
But then he’d been…weird. The way he kept glaring at Cassian, snarling, even snapping at him for touching you.
You, admittedly, didn’t know much about mating bonds other than that it was a special and desired thing. A connection that fae everywhere revered simply because your soul was connected to another. It was overwhelming. But maybe that was because everything you currently felt seemed amplified greatly.
Az was a good male. A really good male. Fate, the Mother, the Cauldron—whoever was responsible for mating bonds—clearly picked well for you.
That is, if he even wanted it. And with you.
You groaned as you rolled the leathers off your hot, sweaty and sticky skin, the bathtub already filling with warm water and a herbal scent of bath soap. The benefits of living in a sentient House. Apparently, being Nesta’s friend meant you also deserved to be spoiled by the House.
“Bless you,” you mumbled, when you were fully naked, stepping into the warm water.
You sank down with a sigh, luxuriating in the feel.
You’d grown to love and appreciate, even look forward to training, but more times than not, you bathed at the House before leaving for the day. It never seemed to be an issue for Nesta and Cassian that you did so—considering this was their home—and it provided you with some time to unwind and ease your mind.
You tried not to think of the days this week that you’d spent a little extra time in the bathtub, hand slipping between your legs, imagining Az there with you. In the tub with you.
Your cheeks reddened at the thought, embarrassed at even the memories.
It had only been one time. Being his mate might not even mean anything to him.
But gods, had your body been craving him so badly.
You pushed the thoughts of the Illyrian aside, taking the bar of soap, running it over your wet skin.
After thoroughly washing every part of your body, you grabbed a bottle of shampoo that had appeared on the ledge. You took a deep breath, holding it, as you slid under the surface of the water enough to fully wet your lengths of hair.
You’d just resurfaced—shampoo bottle in hand—and nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Azriel standing in the doorway. He was leaning in the doorway, looking tense, arms crossed, shoulder against the doorframe.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” his lips twitched.
“You’re back,” you said stupidly, because obviously he was, you’d already seen him.
“I am.”
You bit your lip, unsure if you should admit how much you’d missed him.
“Would you like some help?” he motioned to the bottle of shampoo in your hand.
You looked down before glancing back up at him.
“I’d like that.”
He walked in the room and you swallowed hard, your body alighting with his powerful, tall presence. You could feel your skin tingling, anticipating the feel of his hands, gentle in your hair.
You were going to lose your mind because of him.
He stopped behind you at the end of the tub and reached down, taking the small bottle in his hands. His fingers brushed yours and goosebumps broke out over your skin, your nipples pebbling just under the surface of the water.
You chastised yourself mentally as you shifted slightly, feeling a familiar ache developing between your legs. All he’d done was barely touch you and you were having this reaction to the male.
Behind you, you heard the cap unscrew as he undoubtedly poured some of the fragrant concoction into his hands, bringing them to your wet locks. He massaged gently, lathering it, fingers gentle against your scalp.
You moaned, head falling back towards his touch.
You heard him shuffle behind you as he kneeled behind the tub to work the lather into your hair.
“Feel good?”
Was it just you or did his voice sound a tad shaky?
“Yes. So good,” you moaned.
You’d been so desperate for his touch that even this had arousal stirring.
“I’m glad,” he murmured, working the shampoo down the length of your hair.
It was then that he bent, close enough that his lips brushed your neck. You shivered at the touch.
“Did the spying go well?” you croaked.
He hummed, nose brushing your damp cheek before he kissed your neck again.
“It did.”
“I’m…glad,” you rasped out, finding it difficult to form words.
Not with his close proximity, with his body so warm against yours, his hands on you, the scent of him—night chilled mist and cedar—filling your senses.
He said your name, low and ragged. You had to bite back a whimper at his gravelly tone.
“Yes?”
He said nothing as he finished running the shampoo through your hair. You made sure to make quick work of dipping under the water again, scrubbing the suds from your hair. When your head broke through the water again, you wasted no time, immediately standing in the large tub.
Water sluiced down your body in rivulets, your wet hair sticking to your torso just enough to cover, but not by much, considering your hardened nipples still poked through your hair.
You were on full display for him and it should’ve made you nervous, self conscious, but instead, it sent a thrill through you. Especially at the way he was looking at you.
“We really need to talk,” you insisted, but it sounded weak to even your ears.
“We do,” he ground out out, eyes taking in your naked form.
“You’re my mate.”
“Yes.”
His eyes didn’t stray from your body, his throat bobbing with a hard swallow.
“And you felt it too.”
“Yes.”
You hadn’t made an effort to move but he stood from where he’d knelt, approaching you. He walked over to the side of the tub, right in front of you, just on the opposite, dry side. Your eyes followed his every movement.
“I realize we really need to talk, but I truly cannot focus when you’re naked.”
His voice was guttural, pained, like he was being tortured by the sight of you like this.
You would’ve laughed at his honesty if you hadn’t felt like you were seconds away from jumping him, yourself.
“We talk later then,” you said, a tad breathlessly.
“Talk later,” he nodded, seeming just as dazed.
With that declaration, he surged forward, not seeming to care if you were still in the tub or that you were dripping wet. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours.
Relief was nearly immediate, the sense of calm and rightness settling over you like a warm cloak as his lips moved against yours. He groaned against your lips, hands gliding along your wet skin giving you goosebumps.
Before you realized what was happening, he’d lifted you from the tub, the splash of the disrupted water sounding loud in the quiet room. Your legs wrapped around his waist, water soaking his leathers but he held onto you tighter, arms hooked under your legs as he walked you back to the bedroom.
Your lips traced his jaw as he walked the two of you to the bed, your hands resting on his shoulders.
“Az,” you whimpered, not even sure why.
“Right here,” he murmured, finally setting you down against the sheets.
They stuck to your damp skin and the cool air chilled you as it hit your bare body.
Your breathing quickened as you watched him join you on the bed, crawling over you. Before you could say anything, his head dipped and his lips were hot on yours again.
You moaned lightly into it, your legs naturally parting for him to lay between.
The kiss was hot, heated, full of desperation and longing. His mouth moved rapidly over yours as he pressed against your body as close as he could get. Your hands clung to his shoulders, moving forward, trying to pull his leathers off him—even if it meant you had to claw through the leather material with your nails alone.
His mouth dropped to your jaw, sucking harshly, moving further south to nip along your throat.
He pressed against you just like he had that night in the hallway, his arousal pressing against your cunt. The only thing between you both being the leather of his pants. You moaned at the touch, hips canting to rub against him continuously.
You were about half out of your mind that you wanted him to take you in every position he could think of. You wanted to rub your naked body against him, against all those strong muscles, wanted to lick, to bite him.
You were positively feral, acting like a bitch in heat if the way you were actually dripping down your thighs was any indicator.
“Az, fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you gasped, arching into him the more he pressed against you.
He growled against your throat.
“Sweet girl, I’ve been thinking of this all week”
“Yeah?” you panted, breathing uneven.
He pressed up against you again and you nearly went breathless. You wanted that cock deep in you until you were screaming.
“It’s—” he panted, kissing down to your chest, “The bond.”
“Wh-What?” you stuttered, trying to breathe normally.
It was almost impossible to breathe with the way he was pressed against you, mouth on you, stoking heat in you. You needed him so badly you were practically drooling—from your mouth and cunt both.
You tugged at the edge of his shirt again.
“Off. Off,” you panted and whined, desperately.
He sat back, whipping it off faster than you could blink.
You were met with golden brown skin and hardened muscle, the dark Illyrian tattoos on his arms swirling and enticing, making you want to trace the patterns with your fingers. Another time though, not right now, that is.
You reached for him, but he was already moving away, his hands coming up to grab your breasts as he kissed down your stomach. You groaned, arching into his palms, the roughness of them providing friction to your puckered nipples and driving you wilder.
“Azriel,” you whined, the emphasis on his name making you sound even needier.
He groaned against your skin, mumbling, “I love how eager you sound for me.”
Eager was probably an understatement.
He wasted no time as his mouth neared your throbbing core, lifting two fingers and pushing them into you without any warning.
You moaned loudly almost sensitive from your prolonged arousal. Maybe because you’d felt like this for six days without much relief.
“Gods, you’re so wet,” he mumbled, licking over your hip bone.
You couldn’t form words in the slightest, your hips shifting to push his fingers deeper. It was like the moment your lips had touched his in the bath just minutes earlier, something wild had been unleashed in you.
Your hips rocked against his hand as his fingers slid in and out of you.
“I told you last time I’d take my time with you, but fuck, sweet girl, I just want to be inside you.”
His tone was gravelly, pained, as if he too had been suffering all week.
“Wouldn’t—” you gasped, hips still shifting, “be—opposed to that.”
You were panting, barely stringing words together. You felt like you’d lost all good sense, your mind spiraling and focused on nothing but Azriel. His fingers inside you, the fact in a few minutes his cock would be inside of you.
His fingers curled and he looked up at you with such a sly, seductive look on his face you tightened instantly around his fingers. He groaned, feeling it.
His eyes never left yours as his fingers left you, only to be replaced by his tongue.
He licked one torturous line along your slick folds, pausing to flick your clit. You cried out, hand flying down to slide into his dark locks.
You probably sounded downright debauched as noisy as you already were.
“As sweet as I imagined,” he mumbled.
His tongue was teasing, licking everywhere but where you wanted him, circling your entrance. You opened your mouth to beg before he plunged it inside you.
Your back nearly bowed off the bed at the feeling—and he hadn’t even brought you to orgasm yet, that was just how wild you were for him right now. A loud, filthy moan fell from your lips as you ground against his mouth.
You had a fleeting thought that you had never realized he would be this talented with his mouth, either.
You felt the vibrations of his moan against your cunt as he licked into you and drove his tongue into you repeatedly. You started when you realized that wasn’t the only sensation you were feeling.
A nearly icy chill roamed your body and you realized it was his shadows as they brushed against your nipples, brushed over your clit just enough to give you even more pleasure. You whimpered, squirming from all their ministrations.
He licked a path from where he’d just been, to your clit, flicking it again. You inhaled sharply feeling two of his thick fingers press into you again as his mouth closed around the sensitive bud.
“Az, gods, Az,” you whimpered, trying to press closer to his mouth.
His other hand pushed your hips down, holding them firmly against the bed.
He was absolutely relentless, fingers pumping and curling, tongue flicking and pressing. You could feel the tingle of release starting deep, rising quicker than you expected as he kept up the deadly duo of movements.
His fingers curled once more in combination with a suck on your clit and you were absolutely exploding beneath him.
Your fingers dug into his hair as your moans bounced off the walls of your room, hips tilted into his mouth, his fingers. Pleasure shot from your core into your whole body and you trembled as he didn’t let up until he was positive he’d wrung every last ounce of your orgasm from you.
You were panting, body still buzzing when he pulled his fingers and mouth from you with a devious smile. He looked ready to eat you alive and you were ready to be devoured.
“You could bring a male to his knees with how sweet you sound when you come,” he murmured.
You sat up as quickly as possible, connecting your lips to his as your fingers busied themselves with removing his pants. As he kissed you, his fingers aided yours until he was pushing his pants down his hips.
Az broke the kiss long enough to stand, ridding of the article and as he stood up, pushing the rest of the clothes from his body. You didn’t even give him a chance to rejoin you on the bed before your hand was wrapping around his cock, sliding along it.
He hissed, hips bucking into your hand but you gave him no reprieve as you leaned down, licking along the length of his cock.
You were out of control, practically pawing at him at this point and you didn’t even care. Clearly he didn’t either as he groaned your name, threading his fingers in your hair,
It was a miracle he gave you all of thirty seconds to move your mouth on his cock, sucking and tongue swirling before he was pulling you off.
You momentarily pouted, wanting to repay the favor but the look on his face had you trembling with anticipation.
“I need to be inside you,” he practically whined.
Fuck, you needed that too.
You were momentarily speechless, nodding emphatically, trying to convey your desire for that too.
You wouldn’t have been exaggerating by much if you said Azriel nearly tackled you back on the bed. One moment he was standing, the next, your back was flush against the mattress again, Az hovering over you—one hand on your cheek, caressing it with a gentleness that his kiss did not convey.
You whimpered into it as you felt his hips press into yours, the head of his cock nudging your entrance. Your legs caged his hips, trying to press him closer as you rubbed against his cock.
He growled, pulling away so he could look down into your face.
Two things happened at once.
First, he pushed into you in one, rough, delicious movement, making you gasp at the sudden and intense intrusion.
Secondly, at the same moment, your hands were pulled from his body. Well, no, it was more like your arms.
You’d felt the cold, biting chill a second too late as your arms were flung over your head, flat against the bed and bound by his shadows.
“Az,” you whimpered, tugging at the restraints.
But it was useless. Not only were your wrists bound together, but his shadows held them to the bed so you couldn’t even lift your arms.
“No fair,” you whined, hips already moving with his.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “You can have me however you want after this, just need you so badly, sweet girl.”
His hands gripped your hips, his pace already hard and relentless from the start. Your bodies rocked with each of his thrusts, each time his cock hitting deeper and making you mewl.
“Gods, fuck,” you panted, already overwhelmed.
But you needed this. Needed more.
It was fast, hard and so incredibly hot.
Az was already groaning, sounding as wrecked as you were. Clearly, you’d both been desperate for this for too long.
One of his hands gripped your thigh, pulling your leg higher on his waist as his hips pistoned into you, his thrusts rough and punishing. You couldn’t have kept quiet to save your life, truth be told.
He was everywhere at once, lips hot against your throat, your head bent back into the pillow, a moaning mess.
“Feel so good, my good girl,” he grunted.
You whined again, tugging at your restraints.
“Az, please,” you begged, “I want to touch you.”
“Not yet,” he ground out, hips grinding down, immediately shutting you up with a moan in place of your complaint.
You both were spiraling quickly, approaching the mind blowing pleasure you knew was soon to come.
The hand not holding your leg slid up your torso, up your chest and settled at your neck, his fingers wrapping around your throat. You could see the heat in his gaze, but saw enough to know he was questioning if this was okay.
You positively whimpered when his fingers tightened just slightly and he growled, hips snapping into yours, harder.
You were completely at his mercy, but you couldn’t help but wish you weren’t bound so you could scratch his shoulders, hold his hand tighter against your throat, anything.
“Az,” you gasped, so overwhelmed, but in the best way.
Every time his fingers tightened, your cunt tightened around him. His guttural groans nearly made your eyes roll back in your head.
Pressure was building within you and you had become a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him, wrists still straining against his shadows.
“Please, please,” you begged.
It felt like each time he pulled out, he thrust back in harder, rocking you—and the bed—with the force of his movements.
“Come on, you can take it, can take me.”
You were rising higher and higher, not sure how much more you would be able to handle of him.
His hand fell from your throat, dipping between the two of you, circling your clit. It took very few movements before you were absolutely screaming as you came around him.
You felt the strain of the shadows as your body arced off the bed—like they were pining you down with all their force—their cool touch almost painfully cold the harder they bound your wrists together. Your body shook as your vision whited and your brain nearly melted by the pleasure that Azriel was provoking.
“Oh fuck, fuck!”
His outbursts were raw and filled with his current blissed out state.
“Az,” you gasped, still amidst your own orgasm, unable to control anything let alone your mouth, “Come for me, Az.”
He didn’t disappoint, his head tilting forward, rogue strands of his dark hair falling over his forehead, his body tensing—something you could feel beneath the legs still wrapped around his waist.
Through your own bleariness you could see his wings twitching behind him before they burst open fully as he came with a growl so deep it had your eyes squeezing shut at the erotic sound. His lips brushed your chest, then your throat as he kept working himself into you, riding out every last bit of both yours and his orgasms as he finished filling you.
The moment he stilled, the shadows dissipated from your wrists, sliding back to their master.
You couldn’t move them for a moment, your body still feeling wrung out, even though you had a deep craving for more. A craving that was getting stronger with each passing second.
Your chest rose and fell and you laid there, under your mate, arms still over your head like you were still bound there. You saw the instant concern in his eyes as he pulled out of you.
“You okay?” he asked, sounding just as ruined as you felt.
You didn’t know if it was because of the overstimulation but your chin trembled—not from impending tears, but the deep ache that wasn’t going away. The way you felt you needed him again, needed to do things to him you couldn’t even express, to even satiate your need.
“You didn’t let me touch you,” you whimpered.
He sat back, pulling you up with him. His hand dove into your hair, pulling you into another kiss.
You’d have thought he was too tired. Hell, you’d have figured you were too tired, but the moment his lips pressed hot against yours, you felt the stirring of arousal almost instantly.
“You’re free to touch me as much as you want, love.”
“Good because I still need you,” you groaned, climbing into his lap.
“Glad I’m not alone.”
Your lips were hot on his jaw and he helped position you. You couldn’t resist the urge to drag your cunt over his quickly hardening cock. He groaned, face falling into the crook of your neck before you’d even sunk down on him.
“Touch me all you want,” he pleaded, “I’m desperate for it.”
Your hands roamed his chest, over his shoulders as he lifted you enough to sink back down on him.
He was immediately groaning at your cunt welcoming him back, even if it had been less than five minutes. You pushed him back, his arms falling from your waist, his elbows landing on the bed to catch himself.
He wasn’t completely laying down, but was laying back enough for you to take complete control like you were dying to. Propped up on his elbows, he watched you with lidded eyes as you moved on him, rising and falling on his cock, your hands balanced on his chest.
“I could get used to this sight,” he murmured, dazed.
“Good because I think it’s time for you to beg,” you bit your lip as your hips moved.
In response, his hips thrust upwards to meet you and your head tilted back with a loud moan.
“I’d beg for you any day, love.”
You groaned aloud at his words.
“Can’t believe you did that,” you ground out, quite literally grinding your hips against his, “Not let me touch you.”
His smirk was devilish and so incredibly sexy that you had to stifle the moan that crawled up your throat at the sight. Balancing his weight on one arm, he reached up with one hand, thumb brushing your swollen and bruised lower lip.
“You’re so pretty when you beg.”
You shivered at his words, a direct repeat of what he’d said last time, too.
“And you’re lethal,” you moaned, still moving on him.
“Never claimed not to be.”
Az looked smug and you slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Shut up and let me fuck you.”
He groaned at your dominance, head falling back. Your hand fell and you took the opportunity to lurch forward, mouth hot on his neck, his throat, nipping. Your teeth scraped over his pulse point and he growled so deeply, you felt the vibrations against your mouth.
Your hips rocked against his, aiding in his cock hitting the perfect spot within you each time. Your thighs were burning and trembling, but you didn’t want to stop. Didn’t think you could.
The hunger for him was so intense that you didn’t know if you could survive it. You lifted up off his cock just enough to slam down roughly, your mind spiraling in the haze of desire and his whimpered moans made you involuntarily clench around him harder.
“Touch me. Sweet girl, touch me.”
His begging made you feel powerful and you bit back a smirk as your hips slowed in his lap and he actually whimpered.
Whimpered.
“I think you can beg better than that,” you taunted.
“Gods, please,” he groaned, “Please, sweet girl.”
You bit your lip, keeping up the slow rhythm.
“Tell me where and maybe I will.”
“Anywhere.”
He tried to sit up and reach for your hips and you slapped his hand away.
“Tell me something or else I won’t.”
His voice was ragged, raspy, so desperate it made your entire body buzz with tension, with desire.
“My—My wings,” he stuttered.
Your eyes lit at the command.
You were gonna have fun with this.
You finally allowed him to sit again, wrapping those muscled arms around you and pulling you close to him. Your eyes took in those powerful wings, the dark black leathery look to them.
You knew from a brief feel last time, they felt like cool silk under your fingertips. The silkiness of them gave you goosebumps—likely as much as it did him when you touched them.
His hands rested on your hips moving you back and forth on him faster and you reached an arm out towards one of his wings.
With your pointer finger, you ran it down the inner edge of his wing and you felt his cock twitch inside you in reaction. You smirked, absolutely delighted at the reaction.
“Feel good?” you murmured sweetly.
“Y-Yes,” he whimpered.
You clenched tightly around him at that.
You got braver, moving inward a few inches, two fingers stroking down the velvety wing. Not only did his wing twitch—and the more obvious, once again, inside you—but his whole body reacted this time.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned out, shuddering, “Sweetheart, you’ll be the death of me.”
You hummed, wanting to send him over the edge, your own release rapidly approaching.
Likely sensing it too, his thumb landed at the apex of your thighs.
“You’re coming with me,” you ordered, more of a moan than a statement.
You were close, could feel the impending release on the horizon as you moved faster, harder on him, his touch matching your movements. With one last stroke of your fingers along the edge of his wing, he was falling apart beneath you.
He came with such a ferocious growl, it inevitably sent you over the edge as you clamped down around him. Your back arched, your body pressed fully against his muscled frame as your cry of absolute pleasure tore from your throat. Your arm was still extended over his shoulder as you kept moving on his cock.
You felt him pulse within you as he spilled into you, the slight warming sensation making you whimper pitifully, enjoying every moment of it. His face dipped, bringing your lips to his as your body finally slowed, his hands sliding from your hips up your back.
When you finally pulled away for breath, your brow coated with sweat, your breathing uneven, you just stared at him in awe.
“Didn’t think you had that in you,” he smirked, voice low, tired.
“I didn’t know you could whimper,” you retorted.
His laughter was soft, his touch even softer as he brushed a knuckle down your cheek.
You felt insanely dazed, trying to regain your senses as you stared at his face, taking in the truth. You felt a strange sense in your chest, sort of like a tether just waiting for its…well its mate. You took him in, the beautiful face, golden brown skin and hazel eyes that were so incredibly soft right now as they gazed back at you. It made you realize something.
You wanted this.
You wanted Az as your mate, wholeheartedly.
Something in the corner of your eye caught your attention and you looked over, eyes widening at the sight.
The numerous pillows that’d started on the bed were now scattered on the floor from all your frenetic scrambling and movement on the bed. The covers of the bed were half on the floor, as well, from the enthusiastic and frenzied way the two of you had devoured one another.
You looked around as you tried to catch your breath, still in his lap, his cock still nestled inside of you.
“I think…we made…quite a mess,” you panted.
“Not sorry,” he grinned, roguishly.
That hunger was still there, deep down, but for the time being was quiet enough for you to catch your breath. You already felt sore in every single muscle, but you’d had worse from training, you knew you’d manage.
Your eyes locked with his and you felt your heart flutter.
“Hello, mate,” you grinned, still a bit disbelievingly.
He smiled, leaning forward to nuzzle your neck, mumbling at how he was the luckiest male alive.
“That’s it. Rhys can find another spymaster, I quit. I’m never leaving again.”
Your laughter was bright, happy, a weight from this last week having lifted from your chest.
His smirk was wolfish when he pulled back to look at you.
“So, can I interest in you in another round, mate?”
Tag List: @harvest-bunny @garricktavisfanclub @kittiness12 @smol-grandpa @bxm-2121 @less-spice @alexof90s @seasonallyapril
When Azriel overhears something he most certainly wasn’t supposed to, he can’t resist the urge to have a little fun with it and you get a taste of just how much of a tease the shadowsinger can really be.
Pairing: Azriel x f!reader
Word Count: 9.2k
Warnings: eventual smut, p in v, sexual tension, some teasing, Az just being deadly in bed
A/N: I can’t believe this fic finally came to fruition. I’ve had this idea for two months and just could never seem to make it come to life. But with a recent bout of inspiration, it finally happened. A big thanks to @garricktavisfanclub for helping me so much with brainstorming, details and proofreading too. If you’d like to be added to my fics tag list (I currently write mainly Azriel and Eris fics) let me know!
Wine. You were gonna need wine.
And lots of it.
“Okay, I know I asked for this, but now I’m wondering if it was one of my worst ideas yet.”
Your best friend smirked as she sipped her cup of tea. Her gray blue eyes held mischief as she watched you take a rather large sip of your wine.
She’d been through a lot here recently, you’d learned.
You’d only known Nesta Archeron for a short time, meeting her when she came into the bookstore in Velaris that you worked in, almost a year ago. You had no idea just what kind of journey she was on at that first meeting, the demons she was battling, the healing she was slowly working towards.
It’d only been in the last few months that you’d grown closer—especially when she’d invited you to train with her, her other friends Gwyn and Emerie and other priestesses that lived in the library beneath the house you were currently in.
Nesta had seen something in you that she had in her other friends, apparently.
You hadn’t experienced trauma like the other females, but you did deal with an overabundance of grief. You’d lost your parents in the war with Hybern, a series of events leading you to end up in Velaris, though it hadn’t been the home where you’d once lived with your parents.
Though the people of the city and its High Lord were kindhearted and friendly, you’d never felt like you’d fit in, wading through grief you’d never fully healed from. You’d felt like you’d had no purpose. You’d drifted through every day, doing the same things. Get up, go to work, eat, read and sleep. Nothing had ever changed.
Until the day you’d met Nesta and you’d been set on the path towards your life slowly changing.
You’d been hesitant when she’d asked if you’d like to train. Cassian and Azriel were great teachers, she’d encouraged, but you’d still been wary. You were no warrior.
But the longer you’d thought about it, the more you’d realized that you had been presented with an opportunity that might not come around again. One that could potentially break you out of your rut, out of the haze of grief you had spent so much time in.
After all, you’d realized you’d never know if you didn’t try.
But by accepting the offer, starting to train, you’d made more friends. Found a purpose. Felt useful. You were currently even at a girls night consisting of you and Nesta.
Gwyn and Emerie unfortunately hadn’t been able to make it tonight, the former being tied up with helping her boss Merril, who was in deep research mode lately. The latter was also busy with work, having put off doing inventory for her store for far too long and needed to catch up.
While they were missed, it gave a rare opportunity for you to be a bit more outgoing, something you’d still felt hesitant about doing with the other two females. Not that they weren’t welcoming or friendly—they were—you just sometimes happened to feel very much like the newcomer to the group.
It was a bit easier with Nesta, since you’d known her the longest.
It had helped greatly though when both females had been informed by Nesta that you’d enjoyed reading as well and they had recommendations upon recommendations for you to read. Working at a bookstore, you’d been surprised to find you hadn’t read most of the ones they loved and immediately took up their offer of loaning you some.
The pair had even made plans to come visit you at the bookstore sometime soon—though it hadn’t come to fruition just yet—they still intended to. They’d been absolutely delighted when they’d heard that you worked at a bookstore. You knew there were plenty of different books the store carried that you could recommend to the females.
So, perhaps, training hadn’t been a bad idea after all. You were learning a new skill and socializing a lot more than you’d once had been.
“I promise one glass is all I’ll have, I just need it to get through this conversation,” you mumbled into your glass.
“If you’re worried about me, I’m okay,” Nesta said evenly, “I won’t snatch the glass out of your hand.”
You didn’t want to be insensitive to any of your friend’s past issues and you told her so, which she just gave you a cutting look—not in a harsh way—but more to let you know that she was perfectly fine.
“Besides, you did ask about how Cassian was,” she smirked.
She’d recently mated with your training instructor and sort of friend, Cassian. You were extremely happy for them because anyone with eyes could tell there was chemistry between them and that they loved one another deeply.
But you’d had to open your big mouth and teasingly ask if he was as good with other things as he was his sword. You didn’t think Nesta would divulge details, especially when you had to see the male nearly every day.
Thankfully, it was just the two of you at the House of Wind for the night—Cassian down at the River House meeting with Rhys for something and Azriel gone on a mission, spying somewhere. That had been the reason for this impromptu girls night.
You’d made a teasing remark that she’d seemed on edge, like she couldn’t go long without her mate and had commented that the sex must be that good if she was so fidgety.
It was like Nesta was going through withdrawal. But if her face was any indicator, maybe there was a good reason she was.
“Let’s just say he’s…good at what he does,” she murmured with a smirk.
You thought you were getting by with just that little detail. But, no, she wasn’t finished.
You had to admit you were morbidly curious.
“Once, we were so feral after we’d gone one round, he told me to put my hands on the headboard. Then took me all over again. Even rougher.”
You nearly choked on your sip of wine.
“By the Cauldron,” you breathed, "Would you hate me if I said now I need to know more?”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” Nesta grinned.
“Is he…gifted?”
“Oh definitely. To the point even I was surprised when I first saw it.”
She said it so nonchalantly your brows nearly rose to your hairline.
“It’s a wonder you’re still in one piece,” you mumbled.
“Most of the time I’m not,” she answered, blasély.
“Well he looks the type.”
“The type?” she asked, taking another sip, brow raised.
“You know, the type of male that knows how to use his cock well. They’re old enough, they oughta know how to use it well.”
Nesta snorted.
“You’d think so, but I’d been with plenty of males that still haven’t managed to hone that skill despite immortality.”
“Clearly you no longer have that problem,” you mused, smirking.
She made a noise low in her throat, indicating just how good it really must be.
“Cassian knows how to keep me on my toes…while making them curl at the same time.”
You took another drink of your wine, the rich, potent flavor coating your tongue, debating how to put your next question.
“So…best you’ve ever had?”
She just gave you another look. You figured the answer to that.
Good sex could be good sex, but you figured it had to be on a whole different level when one was mated and in love.
“Point taken,” you mumbled.
“And there’s this thing he does with his tongue—”
You gulped the rest of your wine in two large swallows, waving your hand.
“Alright, alright, I’ve heard enough.”
She looked amused.
“You asked.”
You groaned at your own curiosity. You had.
“Now it’s my turn. What about you?”
You were the one snorting now.
“What about me, what?"
“Any males in your horizon that you care to share about?” Nesta prodded.
“I lied. I’m gonna need another glass,” you grumbled, definitely not wanting to talk about this.
She put a hand over the empty glass, to prevent you from getting any more and stared you down.
You knew she wouldn’t give up unless you divulged something.
Plus, she was probably right to not let you have another glass. Your head was slightly swimming from how quickly you’d consumed the last half of your previous glass, anyways.
“No. There’s no one.”
You were too short, too abrupt. Nesta was not one to miss a slip up like that. Her keen attention missed little.
“Uh huh…why don’t I believe you?”
“Because it’s nothing,” you emphasized.
“Mhm,” she studied you, thinking, “It’s not like I know many eligible males other than—”
She paused, eyes widening as she figured it out.
You scowled, mentally cursing yourself for even beginning this line of conversation.
Too late to run, you supposed.
Nesta looked absolutely delighted.
“Azriel?!”
You hushed her, your cheeks flaming.
“Oh relax, you know it’s just us here.”
“I know, but it’s bad enough hearing you say it outloud. At least letting it stay in my head doesn’t make it sound as pathetic.”
“Is that why you nearly dropped your sword during training last week?” Nesta grinned smugly.
“Yes,” you replied, glumly.
The shadowsinger—typically in charge of the priestesses—had come over last week, offering you some pointers on how to hold your sword better so it would be easier to run through the drills with.
You’d felt a strange pull to the male for some time, but you’d assumed it was the fact he was quiet and mysterious with deadly good looks. It was no secret the dark haired male was beautiful.
But you’d fumbled badly, nearly dropping the sharp blade. It was only with Azriel’s quick speed that he’d reached out, steadying it in your hands, keeping it from falling and embedding into your boot or worse, taking off a toe or something of the like.
You’d suggested you switch back to a wooden blade after that to prevent any further injury or embarrassment, especially since you seemed to be pretty behind the other females. His face hadn’t changed from the cool, stony expression he usually wore and you’d felt humiliated.
He probably thought you were a bumbling fool.
“Oh this is delicious,” Nesta grinned widely.
“I am definitely gonna need more wine for this discussion,” you sighed.
Nesta finally moved her hand from your glass, picking up the bottle and only pouring half the amount you’d previously had, which was probably the wisest. You’d take what you could get though.
“Alright, spill,” Nesta urged you on.
“Spill what? I find him attractive, that’s the end of the story. There’s nothing to tell.”
Nesta looked amused.
“Which explains why he’s always hovering. Or watching you train.”
“He does not,” you gave her a look, “Besides I think he actually hates me.”
“That’s just his face.”
“And he’s clearly not impressed with a frail fae female who can’t even handle a sword well.”
You gulped your wine again, feeling your cheeks heat. This had definitely not been what you imagined tonight’s girls night would entail.
You also wished you hadn’t eaten all the cookies earlier because you probably needed some food to soak up the alcohol you were consuming. It was never good when you got tipsy because you could never control your tongue.
“I imagine you could handle his sword.”
The wine came sputtering out of your mouth in a spray. Thank the Mother you hadn’t been facing Nesta or your spewed wine would’ve been all over your friend.
“Nesta!”
She didn’t seem the slightest bit ashamed.
“What? I mean there was a time I imagined it myself.”
Suddenly you were really glad you hadn’t taken another drink as you gaped at her.
“Before me and Cassian accepted the bond that is,” she clarified, “But I just meant I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve…entertained those thoughts.”
Maybe you were just lonely. Maybe you were desperate. Maybe you were just too tipsy, but the words came out before you could stop them.
“Let’s just say I’d let him do whatever he wants to me. I’d happily spend all day on my knees.”
Nesta burst into delighted giggles and you took it as encouragement, the wine truly loosening your tongue, the truth coming spilling out. After all, you were with a friend who’d never breathe a word of your secret.
“I’m not kidding! It’s been…a while. I’m talking since before I moved to this court. There’d be nothing better than breaking my dry spell with a tall, dark, muscled shadowsinger. I would beg, Nesta.”
“Oh I think I love this side of you,” Nesta mused, pouring herself more tea, “No wonder you’re distracted during training.”
“I don’t try to be! I start off strong, but every time he drifts closer, my brain malfunctions.”
“Too busy thinking of other swords,” Nesta chuckled.
“There’s no point in denying it now, is there?”
“Nope,” she said, amused, still grinning, “You have heard the wing allegations haven’t you?”
“The what.”
Your question came out more like a monotone statement because the way Nesta looked couldn’t mean anything good.
“Well there are…allegations that an Illyrian male’s wings are indicative of the size of…other parts.”
“So has Cassian proved this to be true?”
She hummed, “And then some.”
You lifted a brow.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Azriel has the biggest wingspan apparently,” Nesta replied, probably a tad too casually.
“Cauldron bless whoever gets to experience that cock,” you said, perhaps too candidly.
You were definitely a smidge drunk.
“Like you?” Nesta teased.
“Yeah, right,” you rolled your eyes.
“I say go for it,” she shrugged, “He needs it. He’s been broodier than normal lately.”
“If I hadn’t been sitting next to you this entire time watching you drink tea, I’d think you’re the one that’s drunk.”
She said nothing more, just gave you a devilish smile.
“Just try not to get distracted during our next sword lesson. Maybe, instead, you can think of all the things I’ve told you about Cassian.”
You threw a pillow at her head, squealing, bursting into giggles at the absurdity. She caught the pillow and you both descended into more laughter.
Neither your nor Nesta noticed the curl of a shadow in the darkened corner.
•••
AZRIEL
Azriel set his heavy pack down just inside the door, moments after his boots landed on the balcony outside the dining room of the House of Wind.
He’d wrapped up the mission earlier than expected, already having retrieved the intel Rhys had needed from the mortal lands. He’d left orders with his spies since his current task was completed and had decided to fly back home instead of waiting until morning. He was exhausted and in dire need of his bed.
His wings rustled as he stepped into the dining room, folding them closed after the flight.
He was so exhausted he felt like even his wings were drooping.
His shadows curled like smoke behind him, some twining around his boots. One wisp took off, scouring the House. He heard laughter down the hallway in the main sitting room, but was too tired to process much more than the fact that it was Nesta.
Probably her and her friends, he thought to himself.
He didn’t spare it much thought as he walked to the stairs, ready to descend to his room. He’d made it one level down—halfway down the stairs to the level his room was on—when the errant wisp of shadow returned, curling by his ear, whispering secrets only he could hear.
They’re discussing you.
He let out a low hum, only half interested. Sleep was calling his name and he wasn’t letting anything deter him from the goal of his soft bed.
He didn’t even know exactly who they were—besides Nesta, of course—but he didn’t have the energy to care.
Sometimes he wondered if his shadows could read his thoughts because then the same nosy little one whispered their names to him.
That was enough to get his attention, causing him to pause just outside his door, hand hovering over the doorknob.
He stayed rooted in place as the hiss and whispers of his shadows filled him in on what the lone one had discovered. His hazel eyes shot upwards to the ceiling, where just two levels away, the two females had definitely been discussing him in length.
A small smile curled on his lips as it whispered certain details it’d gathered.
And though Az was tired, he walked into his room, heading straight to his desk, an idea sparking. He picked up paper and something to write with.
This could be very interesting, indeed.
•••
You’d spent the night at the House, by Nesta’s insistence.
You could’ve had Cassian fly you back down the mountain when he’d returned a few hours later—after the disastrous conversation you’d had about a certain shadowsinger—but you were probably best off sleeping in one of the many guest rooms they had available anyway.
Besides, it was easier to be here for training anyways. Which is why you hadn’t argued with your friend.
Miraculously, you hadn’t woken up with a headache—you’d always been a lightweight with fae wine—but you and Nesta had stayed up far too late talking and laughing. It was horrific, the need to wake at this early hour, especially after a long night.
Sleep still clouded your brain and you rubbed at your tired eyes. You yawned, trying to find motivation to get up and change into some old Illyrian leathers that Nesta had loaned you for this morning. Then you’d have breakfast before heading to the roof for training.
You turned your head then, spotting something out of the corner of your eye.
There, sat a note on the nightstand with your name on it. Your brows furrowed, knowing the slip of paper hadn’t been there the previous night. You reached for it as you sat up, unfolding it.
Should I be flattered by all the things you’d like to do to me? -A
You gasped, the paper dropping from your hands like it was on fire. You were sure your face was, at least.
There was no possible way he could’ve heard. Was there?
You crumpled it up, figuring you’d dispose of it later.
Just what you needed, Azriel making fun of you.
You didn’t know how you were going to make it through training.
After pulling on your leathers, you disposed of the note at the back of the nightstand drawer and went upstairs to get breakfast.
Either you were up early or were late to training because no one was at the breakfast table. But a plate of eggs were there for you, still steaming, like the House had made sure to keep them warm for you. You picked up your fork to eat, trying to make sure you got some food in you and hopefully not be too late, when you saw more paper sticking out from underneath the plate.
Your stomach twisted, hoping it was just a note from Nesta or even Cassian scolding you for being late or drinking last night, anything.
Unfolding it, you realized you had no such luck.
Was it just the wine or do you spend every girls night talking about my cock? :) -A
You nearly choked at the words and the smiley face.
You groaned aloud, face falling into your free hand. He was enjoying this.
You shoved forkfuls of eggs in your mouth while you desperately tried to think of an excuse to skip training. You thought of none.
Once again discarding the note, you walked up the stairs and headed out to the training ring where training was in full session already. So, you had been late.
Something was different today, though.
Your three friends were already doing their warm ups while Cassian watched them, arms crossed, Azriel next to him.
You grumbled, throwing him a lazy middle finger. Even if you only kinda considered him a friend at this point, you’d quickly opened up and responded to his teasing nature. Especially during training when you didn’t shy away from telling him what you thought of his choice of exercises.
“Where’s the priestesses?” you asked, heading to the weapons rack.
“Gave them the day off since Az has been working them to the bone. Plus, I thought you could use the extra practice.”
You turned, having picked up the wooden practice sword, still unsure if you were ready for the real thing again.
“Well I can’t argue with you there.”
Despite your hard work, you had started training a month or more later than the other females and still hadn’t quite caught up.
“Alright, give me all you got. I’m ready to catch up.”
The General pointed to the ground.
“Warm ups first. These three are almost done. You know the usual. Squats, crunches, sit ups and push ups. Don’t forget to stretch.”
You saluted Cassian and moved to drop to the ground to start the exercises there. You nearly fell straight on your ass at his next words.
“Oh, also. You won’t be partnered with me today, Az will oversee your training today. He’ll have you caught up in no time.”
In more ways than one.
The thought flitted across your mind and you tried to remain composed and give nothing away as you nodded, laying back to start with the sit ups.
On your fifth, as you came up towards your knees, your eyes caught the hazel ones of the shadowsinger. You willed yourself not to flush, not to think about what you knew he knew.
Or how that brief eye contact made you feel like he’d seen right into you and knew everything.
You made sure to finish the exercises while avoiding his gaze the rest of the time.
That was harder to do when you were faced one on one with Azriel, following your exercises.
Your friends had been so advanced that they’d already moved on to learning combinations of maneuvers of striking with a sword after learning all eight maneuvers. The two Illyrians overseeing yours and your friends’ training called it the eight pointed star.
Unfortunately, you were still struggling with the maneuvers—pretty much still stuck on the first few. Hence why you’d switched back to the practice sword to save any further embarrassment.
For some reason, you just couldn’t get the moves down perfectly and you huffed in frustration, watching your friends execute the moves with the real blades. The motions were as fluid as water, appearing like it came naturally to them.
“Stop paying attention to them. Eyes on me,” Azriel said sternly and your eyes turned back to them.
“What am I doing wrong?” you grimaced.
Right now, the awkwardness was the furthest thing from your mind. His notes and what you’d said about him taking a backseat in your mind as you tried to channel all your concentration on training. You were determined to nail these moves, but it was like your body wouldn’t cooperate.
“For one, you’re letting your frustration override your concentration.”
His arms were crossed as he assessed you trying again.
“Again,” he ordered.
You sighed, steeling yourself and your stance, trying the swipe and jab upward again.
His head tilted and you figured you definitely didn’t nail it, by his expression.
Not that you’d be able to tell very much if you had as his expression wouldn’t be likely to change from his usual cool and unreadable demeanor.
“You’re putting too much weight on your back foot. It’s throwing off your balance.”
He circled you, coming up behind you, hands coming to grab your hips, trying to demonstrate the position they should be in. You felt his breath on the back of your neck and your own caught, slightly.
Without warning, heat flared through you, your stomach swooping at the proximity. You chastised yourself mentally, trying to keep focused on training while in the training ring and definitely not distracting thoughts.
“You’re too tense for one,” he murmured, “I can help loosen you up.”
You were sure you were the only one noticing the double entendre of that statement.
“Yeah, okay.”
You nodded a bit too quickly.
He bent down, gently tapping the backs of your knees. They buckled slightly.
“Relax and spread your legs for me.”
You paused and absolutely blinked at that. You turned your head, probably looking wide eyed, to him. His face hadn’t changed but you swore you saw a faint edge of amusement twitch the corners of his lips.
“Open up your stance,” he elaborated.
“Oh. Right.”
Your feet spread, even though your heart raced at the very coincidental and likely accidental suggestive words.
“Alright, try it again.”
You performed the maneuver again and his eyes shone when you excelled it.
“Good.”
You couldn’t help the surge of pride you felt—maybe a bit exacerbated because it was Azriel you’d performed well for.
“Keep this up and you’ll be back to the real blade in no time. I know you know exactly how to grip a sword.”
Your eyes darted up to his and you felt a flash of humiliation all over again, remembering your conversation from last night with Nesta. You had no idea if it was an off handed comment that meant nothing or if he’d heard that too.
As he walked back in front of you to continue your lesson, you didn’t miss the small smile on his face.
Or the way his eyes were even more intense on you when he requested you move on to the next maneuver.
All you knew was it was going to be a long morning.
•••
The following days were tense.
Not necessarily in a bad way, but you’d felt Azriel’s eyes on you constantly.
It had started at training the morning after yours and Nesta’s conversation, which miraculously you’d managed to make through the one on one with him. Even if every brush of his fingers when he corrected your hold or fixed your posture made chills break out across your skin, even in the warm morning sun.
Now, a few days after that, you’d stayed a little later after training, deciding to spend the day with Nesta since Cassian was going to be away. The two of you had sat in the kitchen chatting. You sat on the counter, munching on an apple as you two conversed.
You’d been talking and laughing when Nesta got the idea to break out some of Rhys’s good wine. She’d left you there to go look for it—also assuring you it was fine for her to drink a glass, which you were glad to hear.
The apple core vanished out of your hands almost the moment you finished it and you chuckled, looking up at the ceiling.
“Thanks.”
You sat looking around the grand kitchen, not even hearing anyone else approach.
“I’d say it’s bad manners to leave company unattended, wouldn’t you?”
You startled, head turning in the direction of the deep, smoky voice. You found Azriel leaning in the doorway.
You had no idea how he’d managed to sneak up on you. Then again, he was the spymaster, known for being sneaky and quiet.
“I am known to be capable of amusing myself,” you quipped with a smile.
He chuckled, walking in.
“You did well at training earlier.”
You found yourself surprised. You didn’t think it was often that the shadowsinger gave out compliments.
“Thanks,” you said, watching him approach.
He made you nervous, but not because of his unreadable demeanor, but for the way he made you feel. Off balance and unsteady, like you weren’t sure what to expect next.
Though you hadn’t been paired with him for any individual lessons since that one morning, it hadn’t stopped him from hovering during training every now and then in the days since. It was like you were keenly aware of his presence, your body buzzing with that awareness any time he was near.
Sort of like it was doing right now.
He stopped right in front of you and you eyed him warily, unsure of what he was going to do or say—especially as he stepped close enough to stand between your open legs.
“In fact, you’re a quick learner. I could teach you more…if you’re interested.”
Your pulse sped up and you were sure he noticed, though he didn’t break eye contact with you. One of his hands came up and rested on your thigh and it took everything in you not to look down at it.
“I’m always eager to learn.”
You might’ve been more embarrassed at how breathy your comment came out, but you were too caught up in the moment. Especially as you saw his hazel eyes darken, his head dipping lower towards you.
“Speaking of learning…I happened to learn something interesting here recently,” he said lowly.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
You tilted your head just slightly and your breath caught as you felt his hand slide upwards toward your waist.
“That you and Nesta seem to have some rather interesting conversations about me.”
“And what if we do?” you challenged.
Your chin tilted in defiance, inadvertently moving your face closer to his.
Azriel’s eyes dipped to your lips and your breathing became more shallow the closer your faces seemed to migrate. He seemed to be considering something before speaking again.
“Then consider me flattered.”
You felt his fingers flex on your waist, could feel his shadows tickling your calves with just the faintest brush. Your eyes stayed locked on his, the pull to him feeling the strongest it had yet and his eyes dipped again, watching your tongue peek out between your lips, wetting them.
Your head tilted upward, preparing in case he was going to kiss you and—
“We’re in luck! I found two bottles!”
You heard Nesta’s voice call out from down the hall and it was approaching quickly. You jerked back from Azriel and in one smooth maneuver, he’d stepped away, hand falling from your body. He moved just slightly to your left towards the cabinet next to you, like he was in the process of picking a piece of fruit from the bowl on the counter beside you.
Your heart slammed against your chest, trying to process what the hell had just happened. If Azriel had really been that close to you, if he’d really been about to kiss you.
“Figured we could open one now and save the other for—”
Nesta walked back into the kitchen, her sentence instantly dying on her lips the moment her eyes caught sight of Azriel.
She took him in where he stood—still rifling through apples, pears and bananas and then shot to you—where you still sat on the cabinet. Probably too close to him not to raise her suspicions.
And oh were they raised.
Her eyes narrowed on you, giving you a look that most any female could detect from another female.
It was a blatant you better tell me everything that just happened because I know something did, look.
Nesta perfected it well.
Azriel grabbed an apple, tossed it in the air and caught it before turning, dipping his head towards the both of you.
“Ladies,” he said by way of exit.
When he was gone, Nesta whipped toward you, a bottle of wine in both hands and a look of both bewilderment and sheer delight on her face.
“Now what in the Mother’s name was that?”
•••
The kitchen incident had only been the beginning.
Azriel, of all people, was effectively teasing the life out of you.
And Cauldron damn him, if it wasn’t working.
It only got worse when he showed up while you were at work. That fact being even more prominent in your mind because Azriel had never set foot in this bookstore.
At least while you’d been working there, that is.
“Fancy seeing you here,” you quipped, a smile on your lips.
“Apparently Nesta had a few books that she had on order that was coming in today. She was dying to get them but was tied up for the afternoon and couldn’t swing by.”
Uh huh. You bet she was tied up.
It smelled more like Nesta’s scheming.
The male walked up to the counter, hands resting on the edge.
“She said you’d know what I was talking about.”
“I sure do, they came in this morning. I think she single-handedly keeps this bookstore in business,” you chuckled.
His lips quirked in a smirk.
“It’s funny, I’ve seen you more in this last week than I think I have in the three months since I’ve started training,” you noted.
“Maybe you wished on a star and it came true.”
Damn, you never realized he was so smooth. All that silence and brooding could definitely hide some charm, that’s for sure.
“Maybe,” you said, the corners of your mouth turning upwards in a smile.
“I’m interested in what you read though,” he said smoothly, “Books, scrolls, notes…”
Your cheeks flushed the slightest when you remembered the teasing, suggestive notes he’d left you. He was also clearly fishing for information, likely wondering if you’d gotten them.
“It depends on what’s recommended to me,” you hedged.
He hummed, eyes searching your face.
“Usually I’ll read anything that’s lying around.”
You gave him a crumb, curious if he’d pick it up.
“Do you now?”
You weren’t one to play games, so you straightened, looking up at him, deciding to aim closer to the truth. Maybe without being too obvious, perhaps.
“Quite the poet you are.”
His eyes narrowed, but the smirk on his face gave him away instantly.
He’d gotten your meaning.
“I’m the best type there is—an honest one.”
You lifted a brow, then realized you’d yet to get Nesta’s books.
“Ah. The books, right. One minute.”
You held up a finger and turned, heading toward the back where her order sat. You picked up the pile of books—at least half a dozen—and took them back to the counter where the Illyrian waited. His eyes didn’t leave you and watched every step you took. You placed the books on the counter, not paying attention to where you were setting them.
“Don’t worry, I’ll put it on her tab,” you assured.
“Thanks, I know she’ll appreciate it.”
He picked up the stack, making it look much smaller in his arms.
“Oh by the way, I may have left you a reading suggestion of my own.”
He stepped back with a wink and you blinked, watching him exit the store before he took off to the skies.
Looking down you found a folded piece of paper.
Well, this felt oddly familiar.
You unfurled it, reading the words written in the now familiar, elegant script.
I recall hearing something about you begging. I think it’d be a good look on you. Something tells me I could make you feel better than you’ve ever dreamed. -A
Your body instantly reacted to what the note alluded to, to how tempting that sounded.
You were left gaping at the note even long after you’d initially read it.
The shadowsinger was going to be the death of you.
•••
You had been pleasantly surprised when Nesta had swung by the bookstore later that week, asking if you’d like to come have a sleepover.
It hadn’t been all that long—just a little over a week—since your girls night and you figured Gwyn and Emerie would be in attendance too. So, when you asked if you could bring anything, Nesta had just smiled and said for you to bring yourself and a good attitude.
You figured it would just be a night of snacks and reading books—which if you were honest, sounded great to you.
Unfortunately, Rhysand was the only Illyrian around when you’d awkwardly stopped by the River House earlier asking if he could fly you up to the House. Cassian was nowhere to be found and you’d have even asked Azriel, even if that would’ve been an…interesting trip.
It didn’t stop you from apologizing profusely for bothering him.
Yes, you were Nesta’s friend, but you weren’t part of his Inner Circle and he was still your High Lord. It felt weird asking so much of him. Granted, either he or Cassian usually flew you to training everyday, but still.
After Rhysand had reassured that it was perfectly fine, you’d joked that this would be a whole lot easier if you’d been born with wings yourself to fly, just so you could get up to the House. That’d earned you a deep, rich laugh.
He’d dropped you off at the back of the House and you approached one of the many doors the place had on the outside balconies. You knew this one led you indoors to a hall towards the front of the House, but you still felt weird about just walking into Nesta’s home.
So you stood on the balcony outside the large door and raised your fist, rapping your knuckles against the door.
You waited, hoping Nesta was nearby to hear and answer the door or else you’d be stuck out here for a while.
What you hadn’t expected was a half naked Illyrian to open the door.
Your brows raised at the sight before you. Clad in only loose pants, a shirtless Azriel stood in the open doorway.
“Oh. Uh, sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be here,” you stammered unintelligently.
You tried hard not to focus on the expanse of golden brown skin on display, the swirls of dark Illyrian tattoos that covered the span of his upper arms. Against your will, your eyes cut to the well defined muscles, also on display.
The biceps, abs, the strong vee that dipped into his pants and led to—
Cauldron, you needed to get a grip.
His wings were half open and you watched as he tucked them in, momentarily fascinated by the sight of the powerful wings.
“Hey. Come on in,” he stepped aside.
“Sorry. Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” you said, hoping you sounded much more casual than you felt as you walked in.
“You’re not. I was just sharpening some of my blades.”
You nodded, trying to ignore the buzzing that seemed to be vibrating along your skin at just being so close to him—especially when he looked like that.
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair and go find Nesta.”
He blinked at you, seeming to process what you’d said.
“Nesta and Cassian are gone for the night.”
It took you a moment for the words to sink in.
“She invited me over for a sleepover tonight…” you trailed off, the truth dawning on you.
Oh she’d invited you for a sleepover, alright.
“Nesta and her bright ideas,” you grumbled under your breath.
He cocked an amused brow, watching you.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yup,” you nodded, “I must’ve misunderstood her or something. Mixed up the day, probably. I should go.”
You motioned over your shoulder with your thumb, to the door, trying to ignore the fact you had no way of getting off this mountain. Though you’d be willing to stay out in the cold all night until Nesta and Cassian returned if it meant avoiding this embarrassingly awkward encounter.
“Or you could stay.”
You froze at his words—them sounding calm, cool and…genuine.
You weren’t sure if he actually meant them.
“Stay?” you croaked.
“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I have no exciting plans for the night. But they might’ve just got a tad more exciting.”
His eyes raked down your body and you backed up—not in fear, but just at the intensity in his gaze. Your breath felt like it had caught in your chest.
Yes, you’d dreamed of having his attention like this, but you’d never imagined it be so consuming, as if the air around you both actually crackled. Those hazel eyes bore into yours and you felt heat pooling between your thighs at the smoldering gaze.
“Stay,” he repeated, softer.
It was then you realized you were caught between the wall and the shadowsinger, especially as his hand lifted, to rest against the wall behind you.
“I can think of a few things we can entertain ourselves with,” he murmured, head dipping, eyes still on yours.
You were dreaming, that was it. Any moment now Nesta was going to be shaking you awake and you’d be waking up on that couch over there in the other room, drool all over the cushion.
Because surely this couldn’t be your reality.
You’d also realized you had yet to speak, so you nodded weakly, at a loss for words.
His other hand lifted upwards, tilting your chin up with his fingers.
“If you haven’t picked up the hints I’ve been dropping for more than a week now, maybe I should be a little more blatant.”
“I think you should,” you challenged, suddenly finding your voice, momentarily thinking he was bluffing.
But oh, he wasn’t.
His head lowered swiftly and his lips met yours.
You might’ve once thought it would be a gentle, slow kiss, but maybe the two of you had been dancing around one another too much here lately. For the way his lips moved hotly against yours made your knees weaken.
Your hands came up, finding his bare chest, resting against the warm skin. His fingers on your chin dropped, hand coming up to cradle your cheek as he kissed you deeper, his tongue meeting yours just enough to make you whimper.
He kissed you then retreated, kissed then retreated, teasing you, leaving you aching for more. Each time he came back, your lips moved more urgently against his, like you couldn’t get enough of the taste of him.
“I’m glad my shadows reported to me,” he whispered against your ear, his lips trailing kisses along your jaw, “I’m even more glad you said what you did, outloud.”
“Really?” you gasped as he nipped at your jaw.
His hand slid up the outside of your leg, curling it around the back of your thigh to lift against his hip. His own hips pressed forward, allowing you to perfectly feel his hardness pressing against where you wanted him most.
“Fuck,” you cursed, eyes fluttering at the feel.
“Yes, I’m glad,” he responded to your earlier question, “To know it wasn’t just me feeling drawn to you, you were clearly feeling it too.”
He rocked his hips against yours slowly, causing his hardened cock to rub up against your throbbing core, even through your clothes. A desperate moan left your mouth as you clutched his shoulders.
“Azriel,” you groaned.
His tongue came out, licking a stripe up the side of your neck.
“Feel free to call me Az, sweet girl. I think you’ve earned it.”
You had no idea how he managed to make two simple sentences sound so incredibly dirty, but he did.
Heat gathered in your belly, your arousal spiking with each rub of his cock against you. He groaned as he did it again, as if he couldn’t stop himself from repeating the action.
Not that you necessarily wanted him to.
The hand not gripping your leg slid under your shirt, warm against your skin. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip when you felt the rough skin of his thumb brush over your nipple.
You’d never once looked at him differently for the scars he bore on his hands, but the friction the roughened skin provided was so incredibly arousing.
You briefly wondered if he realized the thing he was most self conscious about could effortlessly bring so much pleasure. Which led to thoughts of how those fingers would feel inside of you.
He kissed you again, briefly, dropping your leg back to the ground. When his mouth separated from yours, his hand dropped to grab your own and without a word, he led you further down the hall and down the stairs without a word. You followed behind him down the two levels of stairs, anticipation mounting in you.
The moment his door was closed behind you, he was on you, tearing your clothes off. Your shirt and pants nearly evaporated off your frame, he’d discarded them so efficiently.
Not that you were complaining. In fact, you were a tad impressed. He couldn’t have stoked a fire any faster in you if he’d tried.
Left in your underwear only, his hands hooked under the back of your thighs and he lifted you, lips connected to yours as he walked the two of you to his bed.
The bed dipped as he knelt on it, one knee on the mattress as he set you down against the pillows, climbing over you—all while impressively still managing to kiss you.
Your lips parted in a moan as you kissed him, sliding down against the pillows, laying flat against the mattress, your fingers curling in the dark hair at the back of his neck.
His own though, were quite busy as they traced over your throbbing, soaked core. You reacted immediately, breaking away from his mouth as he pressed down just enough to leave you wanting more.
You needed the last article of clothing off you. Him naked, too—and preferably inside you as well.
You should’ve expected nothing less from Azriel, the one who knew how to get down to business and quick because the male wasted no time. In a blink of an eye he had you fully naked and was already removing his own pants.
You might have to remember to mention at a later point just how impressed you were with his speed—if you happened to remember anything after this.
His wings spread wide behind him as he lowered over you again and your eyes took in the wondrous sight.
His forearms came to rest next to your head, caging you in as he fell further between your legs. You gasped, feeling the blunt head of his cock at your entrance. Instinctually, your legs raised to his waist, trying to pull him further in, to stop his teasing.
“Az, please,” you begged.
He growled against your throat. You had to hand it to him, his restraint was admirable because you were ready for him to slam all the way to the hilt.
“Sweet girl, I want you begging before I’m through with you. I will have you begging before this is over.”
“Big claim to make,” you panted, hips lifting, eager to have him sink all the way in.
He took his time though, contradictory to the heat and speed that led up until this moment. Each inch he pushed in only heightened the sensation of how he was stretching you, filling you.
“Gods,” you gasped, head tipping back against the bed.
“Never dreamed you could feel this good,” he groaned when he finally pushed all the way in.
You could say the same thing.
It was on the brink of being too much, too overwhelming, yet at the same time it felt more amazing than you could comprehend. You’d honestly let him fuck you silly, if he so desired.
His lips met yours again, briefly, as his hips experimented—shallow thrusts and deeper, harder ones. Your breath caught when he rubbed against a particularly sensitive spot.
He took instant notice of it, angling his hips, simultaneously pulling your own in time to his thrusts.
He bent down, nose nudging your cheek.
“Notice how you feel like you’re made for me?”
“Maybe I am,” you grinned, already feeling like you were losing control.
And he’d hardly done anything yet.
There might’ve been more truth to the statements than either of you realized, though.
His pace picked up, his mouth hovering over yours, just close enough to kiss, but he didn’t—not yet at least. Nothing but yours and his shared erratic breathing came from both of you as he moved within you.
Once he fell into a rhythm, one of his hands fisted the sheets, the other coming up, to hold your wrists against the bed, above your head, as he thrust harder. You could’ve sworn you felt the cool chill of his shadows brushing your hips, along your breasts. You felt an icy nip against your clit and you moaned louder.
“Holy gods,” you whimpered, sensation hitting you from ten different directions.
“That’s it sweet girl, I want to hear you,” he grunted, hips slamming into yours again.
“Az, fuck.”
Your words were jumbling, the pleasure mounting, starting to build deep within you. Every thrust of his cock, every movement sending you spiraling higher.
Just when you felt your climax building to the point it was closer in reach, he stopped chasing the high, causing you to cry out in frustration. His thrusts turned slower and shallower.
“Azriel,” you whimpered, frustration lacing your tone.
“Yes?”
He sounded innocent, lips traveling your jawline.
“Stop teasing,” you moaned desperately.
He groaned, head dropping to your neck in reaction to your pleading.
“You’re so pretty when you beg.”
His hips pulled back, slamming all the way back in, in one smooth movement, causing you to keen. But he wasn’t done yet. He paused, grinding against you as he was deep inside you, making you even louder.
He repeated the action, grinding closer, claiming you, as if he could erase any distance between the two of you. His hand released your wrists and they went flying to touch his body.
Your nails dug into his shoulders, your own hips moving against his, enhancing both yours and his pleasure. His thrusts became ruthless the closer he got to his own climax.
Your legs bracketed his hips, pulling him deeper with each thrust, moans falling from your lips at the overwhelming pleasure. You could easily stay here forever with Azriel buried in you and die a happy female.
His hips pistoned into you so steadily that with each and every thrust, the two of you rocked against the mattress in sync, chasing release.
“Mmm, fuck, Az, I—”
You were babbling, all coherent thought having gone out the window around the time he’d pressed his still covered cock against you, back in the hall.
He was unleashing pleasure in you so intensely, you weren’t entirely sure you could take it. Release was a shimmering haze still too out of reach to fully embrace, but your thighs were already shaking, your breathing rapid and panting.
Even if you were apprehensive of its intensity, you still wanted it, the full force of it.
“You take me so well,” he grunted, bending down, lips hovering over yours before he whispered against them.
“I always knew you would.”
You cried out, his cock hitting so wonderfully deep with his latest thrust that your eyes naturally rolled back, body arching into his as your hands gripped his biceps. He growled in response, connecting your lips once again.
It was more heated and messy than the previous ones, more pants and moans, but it only made it that more erotic. Your lips sidetracked though, pressing to the strong line of his jaw when the peek of his wings out of the corner of your eye sparked something in you.
You briefly remembered Nesta saying something about wings, once. Something Cassian had taught her.
Your hand reached out, two fingers sliding along the outer edge of his wing.
He actually shivered.
He also let out a guttural groan that sent a spike of heat directly to your cunt, causing you to tighten around him. He grunted at that too.
“You keep doing that and I won’t be lasting much longer,” he growled.
“Another day,” you promised, fully intending to take advantage of that opportunity.
His hand dropped between his and your bodies, fingertips rubbing tight circles over your clit. Despite the pleasured haze on his face, his voice still managed to be even when he spoke, even if it was brittle.
“You want me to make you come, sweet girl?”
“Yes, yes, gods yes.”
You didn’t even care if you sounded pathetic, that you were begging. You wanted him to give you the overwhelming and blinding amount of pleasure that you knew he was capable of.
His voice was ragged, gravelly as he bent down, nipping your bottom lip as his cock thrust continuously into you, causing your vision to blur.
“Say please.”
You whimpered, your entire body on fire, your release building, surging closer and closer with every thrust, every flick of his fingers.
“Az, please, fucking Cauldron, please.”
At least you’d fulfilled your wish to beg him.
His free hand delved into your hair and turned your head firmly as his lips dominated yours. You broke away, on the cusp of your orgasm, your tongue loosening even further.
“Ohhh, fuckfuckfuck,” your words ran together in a series of moans.
He groaned deeply at the feeling of you clenching around him as you came with a loud, pleasure filled moan, your vision whiting out as the sensation completely overtook your body. It arched completely into him as it trembled from the overwhelming feeling.
“Gods. So good. Sweet girl. Fuck.”
His words came out in staccato grunts, his thrusts faltering, indicating how close he was. You were still flying high on your own pleasure and his hand reached up, covering one of yours over your head, fingers sliding in between yours. He squeezed it gently, face falling into the crook of your neck as he tensed, breathing ragged as he came with his own pleasure filled groan.
You could feel the vibration of the noise expelled from his lips against your skin, feel his warm breath against you, hear it so close to your own ears. It had you moaning in response just as much as the simultaneous feeling of his cock twitching within you, warmth filling you, did.
He expelled everything he had into you, still thrusting, until your highs had faded enough for you to return back to the planet. Your chest heaved with breath as the two of you finally stilled and you clung to him, body slick against his own, sweat coating your bodies.
He finally lifted his head, looking tired, but extremely satiated, a smirk blooming on his face.
“Told you we’d find a way to entertain ourselves.”
You giggled breathlessly, slapping his shoulder. He smiled, peering down as he pulled out of you, a groan rumbling deep in his chest at the sight. You felt your thighs further dampen as his release leaked from you and down your thighs. You noted his hazel gaze taking in the sight, jaw clenching in the possessive way a male probably would after staking such a claim.
He looked back up at you, where you laid, skin cooling, heart rate trying to return to normal. You felt an odd sense in your chest, more than just the rapid beat of your heart from the exertion. It was an odd buzz of happiness, of absolute contentment and you offered him a small smile, letting him know you definitely didn’t regret what had just happened.
One hand cupped your cheek, his eyes serious and scanning yours. His following words left no room for argument.
Not that you had a desire to, anyway.
They were a statement and a promise.
“Next time, I’m taking my time with you.”
Tag List: @harvest-bunny @garricktavisfanclub @kittiness12 @smol-grandpa @bxm-2121 @less-spice @alexof90s
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Description: After days away on a mission, Azriel returns home, desperate for you. Lucky for him, Azriel finds you just as desperate.
Warnings: Porn no plot, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), knife play, gags, choking, hair pulling, rough sex, inappropriate use of Truth-Teller, multiple orgasms, dom!Azriel, sub!reader
A/N: This was a request from a very dear friend of mine, the one who put me on ACOTAR in the first place. To my dear Sugar, eat it up girl. This was so fun to write I’m almost embarrassed. Feel free to send in some requests! Enjoy!
Everyone in the Night Court understood that the High Lord’s shadowsinger worked hard. Azriel knew everything about everyone, everywhere. He spent his days soaring through the skies of Prythian learning what he could and reporting back to the High Lord. No one understood how hard Azriel worked better than you, though. His wife. His mate.
You were the one who waited up on the nights he came through the doors of your bedroom with bags beneath his eyes. You were the one who sat with him when he saw something that made him want to uproot the entire political system of Prythian. You were the one who kissed his scarred hands when they shook in the dark hours of the early morning, when the dreams were too much even for a warrior like him.
Tensions were high in Prythian, following the war with Hybern. Keeping an eye on all of the varying courts and their post-war movements required a lot from the Illyrian spy. Rhysand had even recruited Cassian to do some spy work, in the hopes to alleviate some of Azriel’s workload. Hardly a dent in the mountain of tasks Azriel had before him.
He’d been away for days. Sudden plays from Beron made Rhysand nervous, and when Rhys was nervous, Azriel went snooping. You understood that the safety of the realm came first, that your mate was doing important work and needed to be away so long, but the loneliness that came with his absence was starting to get to you.
You missed his eyes, the depth in them. You missed his voice, and the gentle timber of his voice when he told you he loved you. The occasional check-in you got through the mating bond, a tug of warmth reminding you that he thought of you, wasn’t nearly enough to satiate you. You missed his hands most of all.
Those big, tanned hands, covered in brutal patterns that tell his stories whether he wants them told or not, were your favourite part of your mate. The way his knuckles whitened when he gripped the hilt of Truth-Teller too tightly, the way his fingers flexed when he was nervous, the way they manhandled you whenever he got you alone…
Four days was much too long to have gone without those hands. You had to give yourself credit for trying to get by without them. On the nights where the simmering loneliness turned into a boiling neediness, you’d slip your own hands into your lace panties, close your eyes and dream of your winged spy. You almost hated Azriel in the desperate moments where your fingers tried so hard to imitate his, but ultimately failed to come close, leaving you aching all the days he was away.
After hearing word that Azriel had returned, and feeling a confirming hum zip through your mating bond, you’d been patient as he recounted his findings to Rhys. You’d slipped into a deep purple underthing, made of lace and sheer mesh, and got comfortable atop the bed you shared with your mate. You knew it was only a matter of time before he’d be home to you.
The anticipation already had heat pooling between your legs, your thighs pressing together in a stupidly feeble attempt to ease some of your tension. The minutes seemed to drag by as you waited, your heart pounding much too loudly for your own liking.
When the doorknob shook, your core clenched. He was finally here. Sure enough, the door to your bedroom opened to reveal your mate, still dressed in his Illyrian leathers. Azriel’s seven siphons pulsed with energy, his power barely contained by the mass number of them. His wings were tucked behind his back, and you silently wished they weren’t. Strapped to his thigh, glinting in the candlelight of your bedroom, Truth-Teller sat in its place.
Azriel’s face was unreadable as he stepped into the room. He shut the door behind him, his eyes falling on your frame. You watch his hazel eyes slowly drag over you, the slope of your breasts, barely hidden by lace, the curve of your hip wrapped in purple mesh. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his wings lifting only slightly.
“Aren’t you a sight.” He practically whispered.
“I missed you, Az.” You purred, sitting up on your elbows to stare at him.
His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing. Not nervous, you noted, excited. He let out a deep breath through his nose, almost a sigh. He walked towards the bed, towards you, and your stomach erupted in butterflies.
“I missed you more, pet.”
The coolness in his response sent a shiver down your spine. As Azriel reached the foot of the bed, he circled it, instead of climbing on like you’d expected. He walked over to you, holding a hand out expectantly. You leaned over to him, setting your chin down in his palm, nearly moaning at the contact after so many days. His fingers curled inward, securing a firm, but not painful, grasp on your cheeks.
“Good girl. I didn’t even have to say a word.”
His praise is something you never tire of. He gave you a small smile then, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.
“How was your trip?” You ask softly, gazing up at Azriel lovingly.
“Long.” Is all he replies.
His thumb traced a gentle line over your cheek, back and forth. His eyes were dark as you stared into them, thin golden irises around blown pupils. Something in them told you, clear as the night sky, that he was in no mood for slow tonight. The trip had been long, and you both knew it.
“Let me welcome you home properly,” you offered, sliding a hand over to paw at the tenting bulge in Azriel’s armour.
He let out a satisfied huff at the contact, releasing your jaw so that you could crawl over to where he stood at the side of the bed. Your hands lifted to his leather breastplate, moving to unfasten it, but his larger hands were quick to swat them away.
“Leave it on. You don’t need to take my shirt off to welcome me.”
You swallowed thickly at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear at the tone he took with you. You nodded, lowering your hands to unfasten his pants just enough to free his already hard cock. Azriel let out a soft breath as your fingers curled around the base of him, your thumb and middle finger almost touching around his width. Your mouth watered as you stared at him, desperate to feel the weight of him on your tongue. A large, scarred hand came down to slide into your hair, the palm resting on the back of your head.
“Go on, pet.” He ordered.
You wasted no time in parting your lips, taking the tip of him between them. He groaned quietly as you took him deeper into your mouth, your tongue gently dragging along the bottom of his dick. The hand on your head pushed you gently, not forcing, but encouraging. You choked, only for a moment, and relished at the growl he made as you did. Forcing yourself to relax, you let him push all of him into your mouth, your throat.
Tears stung in your eyes as he held you there for a moment, his jaw set as he gazed down at you. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took you in. Azriel’s hand, the one in your hair, curled to make a tight first, the new grip making it easy for him to drag you back off his cock. You licked over the tip as he moved you, tugging against his grip to take him back in your mouth.
“Needy, eager thing.” He taunted, loosening his grip enough to let you set the pace.
You set a simple rhythm, bobbing your head in time with your breaths. You braced your hands on his thighs, sitting on your knees on the bed as you sucked him. The tears in your eyes spilled over, tracing sparkling lines of starlight down your cheeks. Azriel’s free hand lifted, his thumb brushing away some of your tears. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning around him as he brought his hand to his mouth, sucking away the remnants of your tears.
Azriel’s throat bobbed, his breath coming in hot pants as you quickened your pace. You slide your hands along his thighs, the fingers on your left hand bumping into the hilt of Truth-Teller, where it still sat in its sheathe.
“Careful,” Azriel warned gently, “Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
The needy whine that left you was muffled around the cock in your mouth, but was certainly not lost on Azriel. His eyebrow cocked, his head tilting to the side like an animal. His grip in your hair tightened once more and he yanked you off his cock. As you gasped for breath, he stared at you, his gaze somehow darkening more.
“That’s how it is, is it?”
“I don’t know what you mea-”
“You like my knife.” Azriel cut you off, watching your face flush with his statement.
“I like you, and the knife happens to be yours, so…” You sass, trying to play off the light embarrassment seeping into you as you sit back on your knees.
“Yeah? Come back here.” He ordered.
You knew better than to disobey him, but you hesitated slightly as you leaned back over to him, now on all fours. You watched with nervous eyes as he unstrapped Truth-Teller from his thigh, pulling it from its sheathe. The metal blade glittered, shadow seeming to leak from its hilt. Azriel flipped the knife in his hand, catching it by the blade with two fingers. He turned his gaze from the knife to you.
“So eager to have that pretty mouth full, aren’t you?”
You nodded. He lifted his knife to your mouth, tapping the hilt against your bottom lip.
“Then open up.”
“You want me to–”
“Did I say speak?” He nearly snarled, his eyes narrowing.
You shook your head, earning a hum of agreement from Azriel. You licked your lips, opening them slowly so that Azriel can slip the hilt of his blade into your waiting mouth. It’s cold, and it tastes like the sweat of his palm. This blade has seen hundreds of battles, thousands of deaths, and more blood than you could fathom. You should be disgusted. Instead, you moan. You hear a humourless chuckle from above you, your gaze snapping up to Azriel’s.
“You like that, huh? I should’ve known. Always such a nasty slut for me. Isn’t that right?”
The tone in his voice has you clenching around nothing, humiliated and so turned on by his words. You tried to respond, maybe to deny his claim, maybe to agree, but all that came out around the hilt of his blade was a garbled moan. You sucked the hilt like you had his cock, keeping your eyes on his approving gaze.
“Fuck, that’s enough.” Azriel growled, pulling the blade from your mouth, “Turn around. Stay on all fours.”
You shuddered, nodding your head as you turned around quickly. Azriel’s hands roamed over your body, trailing over the lingerie you’d picked out for him. His fingers slipped beneath the straps of your top, toying with them by just slightly dragging them off your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to one of your shoulderblades as his hands slid over your stomach. His touch was reverent, a stark contrast to the way he’d shoved the hilt of his knife down your throat.
“Az, don’t tease.” You huffed.
“Not teasing. Appreciating.” He replied, biting down on your shoulder.
“I fucking missed this.”
His words had you melting, his fingers making quick work of your panties. He nipped at the skin of your thigh, your ass, as he dragged the lace down your legs, which had you trembling by the time he ran a finger down your core. He wasted no more time, plunging two fingers into you. You let out a startled moan, your head dropping forward as he slid his fingers in and out at a punishing pace. No more appreciating, then.
“Fuck, Az!” You moaned, earning you a bite on the hip and a curl of his fingers.
“I’ve barely touched you and you’re screaming my name. Is that all it takes, pet?”
“When it’s you.” Your answer is honest, and he knows it too.
His fingers don’t relent, not even as his thumb moves to press your clit. You cry out, clenching down on his fingers. This was what you’d been missing so badly. Your fingers could never do what his fingers did to you now. No matter what you tried, nothing could make you feel like Azriel did.
“I want you to come on my fingers first.” He said, his fingers curving upward to make you see stars.
Even without the order he gave, you were approaching your orgasm quickly. The sparks under your skin snapped brighter, hotter, and you knew you were a goner. A few quick rubs of his thumb had the cord in your gut snapping like a rubber band pulled too taut and you fell over the edge. You moaned his name as he continued to fuck you on his fingers, drawing out your whines and whimpers as long as he could.
He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean. You tried to catch your breath, your arms shaky beneath you as pleasure continued to zip through your veins. You choked on a sound at the blunt press of his cock against you, your pussy still clenching from having just come.
“Az, wait–”
“No.”
His patience had been thin the moment he’d landed back in Velaris after his mission. He had none left, not when he could feel your pussy trying to suck him in. Azriel pushed forward, groaning lowly as he sank into your tight heat. You whined at the intrusion, woefully understretched from just two of his fingers. The burn of him was thrilling, the stretch something you relished.
Your mate let out a deep grunt as he bottomed out inside you, stilling for a moment to trace his hand down your spine. Your head spun, dizzy from the feeling of him buried so deep, but you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter a quiet “beautiful” from where he stood above you.
When he drew his hips back and snapped them forward again, you practically screamed. Every nerve in your body was alive, singing at the feeling of having your mate home, having him inside you again. Azriel fucked you hard, not too fast, but deep and steady enough to have you crying out loudly at each thrust.
“You take me so well. Made for taking cock, aren’t you?” He grunted, settling his hands on your hips to pull you back into his thrusts.
“Yes, Az, made for it. I’m a slut for it.”
“That you are, pet. My cockhungry little whore.” He replied, making you moan louder still.
“Faster.” You breathed out, a knot once more forming in the pit of your stomach.
“Any faster and you’ll tell the whole house exactly what we’re up to.” He taunted, but the way his hips sped up betrayed him.
“A-As if they care.” You countered.
“Bite down on this.”
You focused your gaze to see Truth-Teller before you once more. Azriel’s hand carefully held the blade, the hilt balanced delicately in front of your face. You obliged, opening your mouth for the knife once more, sinking your teeth into the leather-wrapped hilt. The sound of your moans were muffled against the makeshift gag, and Azriel took that as all he needed to fully let loose.
He fucked into you without hesitation, his hips slamming into yours again and again. The four posts of the bed groaned as they shook from his movements. You felt a trail of spit slide down your chin from around the hilt of your mate’s weapon, dripping into the mattress below you. These sheets would need to be burned, you imagined. Your cunt clenched around him, making the male behind you groan.
“You’re close.” Azriel said, his voice deep.
You could only nod, even without the gag, the feeling of him rearranging your guts had sent you past the point of coherent sentences. One of Azriel’s scarred hands slid over your stomach and between your legs, two of his fingers rolling over your clit. He leaned over you, biting down on the shell of your ear as he fucked you.
“Come for me. Come because I said so. Because you’re mine.”
The growl in his voice was enough to tip you over the edge, your muscles tensing and relaxing as you came around him. Azriel managed two more harsh thrusts into you before he came with a low call of your name, rocking into you as you rode out your highs.
“Welcome home.” You murmured, once you’d let Truth-Teller fall from your mouth.
“I missed you so much.” He said, smoothing a hand over your side as he slid out of you, “I’ll avoid such long journeys in the future.”
“No, you won’t,” you laugh softly, breathlessly.
“You’re probably right. But I think I’ll keep you right here in this bed until the next one.”
“No complaints from me.”
Azriel chuckled softly, finally shucking off his uniform. His tanned muscles glistened with sweat, his tattoos now on proud display. You found your mouth watering all over again.
“Don’t give me that look. Rhysand told me he needed you to be able to walk tomorrow.” Azriel warned gently, though there was no malice behind it.
“Since when does Rhysand decide how much you get to fuck me?”
You watched something shift in Azriel’s eyes then, his mouth snapping shut as his jaw clenched once more, and you knew you were in for a long fucking night.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I like smut as much as the next person but yall aren't even trying to write anymore. All fanfic on here is just 300 words of sex and then just tagging any character you think fits.
darling, how could i fear any hurricane? [qimir/the stranger x force sensitive!reader]
Summary: Neither the backwater planet you’d chosen for yourself, nor the sanctity of your own mind, is safe from the nightly visitations of your dream stranger. Is he real, or just another trick of the mind? And what of the power he promises? Desire, he’d spoken of. Desire, desire, desire…
Pairing: Qimir/The Stranger x Force-Sensitive!reader [my reader is written ambiguously, but as with all of my reader inserts are written with a Latina!reader in mind]
Warnings: 18+ please – fingering, dry humping, the brief mention of choking, Qimir being a seductive motherfucker, relatively minor smut, all things considered. The briefest descriptions of violence; reader has female anatomy.
Word Count: 5.7k of sinful soliloquy and definitely no manipulation. No, you want this power, don’t you??
A/N: Breaking my writing drought with this. I don’t know if it’s any good, and no one asked for it. But I’m glad to be sharing my writing again. Please be gentle!! Also, if you’ve ever read my Mandalorian x princess!reader fic, there’s an easter egg in here for you!
--
The verdant planet of Vorduun was known for very little – A small, outer-world, far from the shiny Core planets that boast chrome, progress, and bureaucracy. Lush plantlife, a fertile place with brimming riverbanks, and jungles teeming and thrumming to life with flora and fauna at the turn of the seasons. Off the edge of the map. Off the edge of the world. A perfect place to hide.
To lose yourself.
And the night is stifling, to say the least. Of all the Vorduunian summers you’d endured in your self-isolation, this one had to be the worst. The months’ long deluge of spring rains had made for a stiflingly humid summer, the green jungle steaming with sticky heat. If a saving grace was to be found in the swelter, it was that the night skies were unlike everything you’d ever beheld – a far cry from the fluorescent pollution endemic of your years on Courscant.
Tonight's Vorduunian sky is no exception – a clear expanse of rich velvet, stars like diamonds crushed into the smooth folds of the expansive sky. Twinkling and winking richly down at you through the gaping slats of the shack you now called home.
You twist, a serpent in your own threadbare bedsheets, attempting to find comfort in the sticky summer heat of the planet, chasing the elusive promise of coolness as you flip your pillow to the other side with a huff.
Kind of a sick game, if you thought about it. That if you weren’t running from something, you were chasing something else.
At present? Chasing a good night’s rest. Preferably dreamless, if you were honest. Your dreams of late are plagued with all sorts of incomprehensible flashes, feelings of being watched, feverish and hazy. Your subconscious’s foreboding certainty that if you’d only just turn around, you’d be met with a face that was not your own -– the disquieting sense of something, or someone, lurking just around a corner. Sprinting down echoing hallways with promises, greatness, a warrior's oath, all just out of reach, certain that if you’d slowed your pace, whatever was pursuing you might just snatch you, an unseen stranger.
Other nights, the dreams were different – the unflinching and unchanging grin set in a mask of metalloid teeth, baring themselves at you . Of ever-watchful eyes judging, as you forced yourself through training drills. The disapproving shake of your Master’s head, his disappointment palpable and always, always directed at only you . The seizing terror of being dropped into combat with no saber – of being skewered through by an unseen shadow with a red plasma blade. Of walls closing in on you. Of the Knights whom you had once considered your friends turning their backs on you while you fought tooth and nail. Of your lungs filled with your unreleased screams – of terror or frustration, you weren’t sure – pulling you down beneath the surface of your failure until you drowned in the disappointment of others’ unfulfilled expectations. Of hands on an unseen body tinkering with phials of something, producing poisonous concoctions of sickly green that the unseen stranger dripped down your throat, pouring them past your lips with sure, warm fingers pressing on your tongue. You swore you could feel the poison upon your waking, the phantom feeling of liquid shredding your veins with horrific heat, your heart thundering.
Other nights the dreams were different yet, still. Of shadows shedding their inky cloak to reveal hands that caressed. Of hands that held you and wiped your tears. Of thorns falling from vines – leaving what once had pricked and scratched you to now soothe with velvety softness as the vines wound their way around your wrists, tugging you into an unseen embrace with whispers of promises humming in your ears like the tufty wings of insects. And you would go willingly. Of the warm breath of another in your ear, their body warm behind you, distinct in its softness from that of the sunwarmed cliffs the two of you would watch the sunset from, just you and your unseen stranger. Of those same metalloid teeth melting into a radiant smile of brilliant white, beheld in a sharp jaw – the critique of disapproving masters replaced by his balmy, sublime approval.
Of the tease and taste of his cinnamon lips brushing your own, the fluttering fan of lashes along the peaks of your cheekbones. Of warm, wan whispers of want , desire , soothing your ears. Of warm, fine-boned, assured hands atop your own, guiding yours in a sensuous glide along your own skin. Promises of m ore, more, more as silken lips slipped their way along the column of your throat – your hitching gasps met with his rumbling hums of satisfaction that lasted in your ears for the duration of the following day. Of the gentle lapping of water over smooth-rocked shores, a hand grasping yours with a promise of power. Yet again of more, more, more, if you’d just … Well, you weren’t sure.
What you were sure of was that it had been weeks of these dreams. Your exhaustion was tugging at the corners of your reality, manifesting itself into silly mistakes – a slipped knife while cutting your meals, or the prickling feeling of someone watching from the dark corner of your room. At times, you weren’t sure what was real and what was dreamscape. A slow descent into madness, torment that felt justified, somehow –-
This purgatory was clearly your penance for your failure. To atone for the fact that you could never be more than what you are now – a former padawan cast out of a renowned Order, thanks in part to her own passions and propensities, roiling rages, and lilting lust. A warrior stripped of all pomp and credential. A blistering reminder of something never to be, of someone you could never be.
And so here you were. Piteous and exiled in the jungles of Vorduun with no one other than your occasional unseen dream stranger for company. And what of tonight? Had you slept? Were you asleep? The hazy jungle heat made it impossible to tell. When your days consist of the same, tedious routine maintenance to your little corner of jungle, purely isolated, save for irregular treks to the nearest settlement to barter … And when you tossed and turned your nights away in fitful fugue states of half-awake melded with oppressive dreams – well, who was to say what was really real?
The ghost of a touch along your exposed shoulder didn’t merit a response … Until it happened again. Causing you to sit bolt upright in bed, eyes tracking the room for any disturbance – seen or unseen.
That prickle, so like static rippling across your skin couldn’t be the Force. No, no. It was the trickle of sweat down the back of your neck, and nothing else. What reason would you have to feel the Force here, now?
Just another heated night, just another heated dream….
And now, were your eyes deceiving you, or were the shadows in the corner of your room were moving, swirling into shape as a well-toned arm emerges from the darkness, raised in a gesture of … peace? And the rest of him follows, stepping into the muted illumination from your single gaslamp that sputters in the corner of your room, casting his shadow along the opposite wall, sinuous and slinking as he slowly approaches.
You spring from your bed, eyes darting to the loose slat in your floor where you housed your ill-used saber, quickly considering the relative size of your room and how many steps it would take him to reach you, arms outstretched, to snuff the life from you before you could call the blade to your hand .
His eyes track yours, clocking the floorboard, before placing both hands up in front of him now, a plea –
“You don’t need that,” he murmurs, taking a tentative step toward you. And whether it was the room that shrank around you both, or that was just his presence in your space – so unused to anyone but you – you weren’t sure.
“Need what?” Play dumb, and he won't have any reason to harm you, leaving you an opportunity to strike. Your favorite trick, a minor deception for a tactical advantage.
He steps into the dim, flickering light of the gas lamp, a mild smirk blooming along his full lips, the lamplight warming his skin.
“Your Jedi weapon.”
You glance once more between the loose floorboard and the man slowly approaching you, cocking your head as his features became revealed to you, your mind tickling with recognition as you noted the sharp angle of his jaw and the baleful, syrupy darkness of his eyes –
“You,” you breathe. “I know your face.”
“Do you?” His eyes meet yours, searching.
Yes. You had a good memory for faces, and his you had seen a few times before. Your trips to the nearest settlement every tenday for the open-air market to barter what you had cultivated from the land around your ramshackle home for fruit, thread, and other goods you didn’t often come by on your own. You had seen him at a stall selling tinctures and other apothecary-type goods. You’d never approached, of course. Hadn’t had a need for burn creams or toxins. But there was no denying the swooping lock of hair that would curtain over his eyes, the sharp angle of his features. The way his eyes would track the movement of the market, hawkish, despite the seeming ineffectual haze in them…
A minor deception, you now realize. But for what tactical advantage?
“The chemist from the bazaar,” you reply.
His lips quirk at your realization – the bud of the smirk now unfurling into a full smile.
“You’re more observant than I gave you credit for, warrior,” he stands before you now, hands still lightly held up in a gesture of peace. “That’s good… A nice surprise ,” his voice taking on an almost-purr of satisfaction.
You pause, lips parting lightly. What could he mean by that?
“Qimir,” he gestures to himself by way of introduction.
Qimir. Likely not his real name. Still, you ponder, an interesting choice. Qimir. Like Chimaera, something ancient and unknowable. A monstrous creature signifying the parable of illusion – the promise of something only too impossible to achieve. You wonder if he knew what his “name” sounded like when he’d picked it.
And you hope your face hasn’t betrayed your whirring thoughts as you continue your assessment, hoping to keep a sweep of neutrality across your features as you address him again.
“If you say so. Business must be slow if you’re here to rob me, poisoner. I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed,” your eyes flit around the relatively bare bedroom, gesturing with your chin to the equally Spartan main room of your little ramshackle cabin. “Not much here of value.”
He crosses one foot over the other as he takes a step to orbit you, almost swordsmanlike. As though he were preparing to duel. You mirror his step, your back to your bed now, facing your doorway. His body between yours and your exit.
“I wouldn’t say nothing,” he brings a finger to his chin as if in ponderment. “You’re here, after all. And why would I give you my name, show you my face, if I intended to rob you?”
“Why you do anything means nothing to me,” you bite, “and you’ll have to forgive my manners if I don’t feel like giving you my name. Leave, now , while I let you leave, Qimir.”
His eyes sweep your form, note your weight on the balls of your feet, bracing for a fight. You probably have weapons other than your laser sword stashed away, if he had to guess . He takes a tentative step toward you, a low chuckle escaping him at the fire in your eyes, trying not to smile any wider than he has already, to give away his pleased impression of your fury.
“I know who you are,” you blink at his statement, trying not to let the surprise show on your face. “You don't have anything to fear from me, little Jedi.”
“I am no Jedi,” you snipped, rolling your eyes at the insolence of the man before you. If he cared at all about your rude display, Qimir said nothing.
“I am more than aware of that, too,” he murmured, his voice like silk in your ears as he takes yet another small step toward you, invading your space, close enough to breathe your air, a hair’s breadth from touch.
Too close. You flex your fingers, calling your lightsaber from its hiding place under your loose floorboard into the palm of your hand in a flash, the cool metal meeting your palm like an old friend, a sense of relief. You surge forward into Qimir’s space, pressing the hilt of the saber into his abdomen.
“If you know so much, then you also know you shouldn’t have come,” you snarl. “I don’t know if you didn't take the hint, here at the edge of the world, but I don't take kindly to uninvited guests.”
“You did invite me, little viper,” he insists, his voice never losing its even, dulcet quality.
At your furrowed brow, he gently brings his fingertips to brush the bare skin of your wrist that’s pressing the hilt of your lightsaber into his stomach. A familiar, prickling ripple bursts across your skin, causing goosebumps to stipple your arms. So familiar. So like the feel of lips from your unseen stranger. So like the Force.
The dark eyes that met yours in the low light of your room were familiar for more than just an observation in passing at the market.
“Y-you,” you gasp, the realization causing your chest to seize, to clench your teeth in the wave of seething anger. “You’ve been … in my head … for months …”
He cocks his head at you, watching the emotions process along your face. He had seen your fears and failures, your heart’s greatest desires. He had seen it all …
“The quickest way to your heart,” he reasons. “Through your head. So you’ll have to forgive my intrusion. I wanted to know you.” Sweet words meant to soothe.
You aren’t sure if that makes it any better. Perhaps the reasoning makes it worse.
“So like a poisoner,” you level his gaze with a steely one of your own. “To try to slip through the cracks unseen. But I know the quickest way to your heart.”
“You do?” He seems surprised at your rejoinder. As if he hadn’t expected you to play. To be so quick of wit as you were of reflex.
“Between your fourth and fifth rib,” you hum, your voice taking on an almost-seductive tone – a contradiction to the reminder of you pressing the hilt of the saber into him, precisely where you mean to.
“I appreciate a good threat. Clever,” he smiles, placating. “But there’s no need for that, little warrior. After all… I wouldn't leave you to the dark, not like they did,” he assures, brushing his fingertips against the bare skin of your wrist, so lightly you would’ve thought you’d imagined it. Using the contact to connect to you through the Force once more – your shared memories dancing behind one another’s eyes. Of your fellow Padawans succeeding while your Master only saw failure. Of the dazzlingly white smile of your classmate with the bronze skin and twists in his hair, his yellow lightsaber flashing as you drilled together, his smile fading to frown with the rest of his features as you had used the Force to push him away a bit too hard – rage bubbling to the surface – in direct violation of your training ordinances. Of your departure from Coruscant, no one to bid you goodbye, not even your training partner who had once called himself your friend.
You make to turn your head, to break contact with his dark, glimmering, all-seeing eyes. Like tar pits, drawing you ever deeper. His other hand catches your chin between thumb and forefinger, drawing you back to his gaze, an orbit you cannot escape. Would you even want to?
“And do you believe you would have belonged? The Jedi are deceivers. They deal in abandonment … cloaked in empty platitudes,” he trails his index finger along the curve of your jawline, an almost illusory brush of his skin against yours – the whisper of a touch, as though to illustrate the point. “The wisp of a promise, like spun sugar. Sweet, but false, their promises of righteousness. Of importance.”
Your lips part, catching the barest bit of his thumb as it does so, your eyes now searching his, seeking motive.
“And what do you offer instead? That's what this is, right? An offer?”
He smiles wider now, nodding in the barest acknowledgment. As though you’ve finally asked the right question.
“I … make the intangible tangible.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning …” his hand leaves the curve of your jaw to touch his fingertips to your temple, pressing, rendering a vision to your mind. And what Force magic was this? To make you see beyond your own eye’s sight. Foresight? An illusion? A vision? A memory? A promise or a deception?
Whatever it is, you see it so clearly – an uninhabited plant roaring with ocean as far as your eyeline can perceive. Waves lapping gently along grey-stoned shores. Moss-covered alcoves where you sit with him, your stranger, the sunset warming your skin as he caresses your face, your hair, whispering praises just beyond your mind’s own comprehension into your ear – the tone sinful, syrupy. His arms securing you in the night as you rest, no more dreams of abandonment.
Warmth, endless warmth… as his lips trail the shell of your ear, down your neck, bestowing belief of besotted brushes of lips. Adroit affection aimed right at the heart of you.
“Hmmm … meaning …. Your feelings, your power, your talent all working, to manifest toward something real. Something you want.” His hand leaves your temple and rests on your shoulder, taking advantage of your state of ponderment to gently guide you, ever mindful of the still-unlit lightsaber pressed to his stomach, leading away from your bed to the wall just next to the adjacent doorframe, the patient waltz of a waiting predator. He brings his hand to rest on the wall, next to your head.
“Something I want,” you reply dreamily, coming back to yourself just enough to realize what he’d said, exhaling through your nose in an indignant little huff. “In exchange for … ?”
“Tell me something,” he replies, lithely lilting around your question with one of his own, flexing his fingers where they rest on the wall. “Why are you no Jedi?”
“I … abjured,” you admit, a bit too primly, the lightsaber now feeling like an unbearable weight in your palm at your words, the weight of choices – both your own and those of whom purported to teach you. To guide you to something greater. Was it as he said? Were their promises so meaningless? “Broke my oath,” you suck your lower lip between your teeth, pausing before daring to meet his gaze again. “I couldn’t … suppress how they wanted me to. I didn’t want to fail anymore. I was so tired of failing. So, I … abjured. I was weak.”
Your eyes meet his once more at your admission, yours shining with unshed tears waiting to fall like stars. Shimmering promises to slip down your cheeks, unkept and unchecked. Your fingers fumbled, seemingly of their own accord, unwilling to hold the weight, the threat, of the saber against him any longer. The hilt clattered to the floor, a clanging finality to punctuate your words. And when was the last time you had been so honest, so vulnerable with another?
How … unlike you.
“Not weak,” he cups your cheeks with both hands, fine-boned thumbs tracing the peaks of your cheeks, as though to wipe away your unshed tears. “The same as me. Power searching for its other half. An unwaning, unflickering flame.”
Your unseen stranger, now seen, takes your hands in his, the buzz of the Force still tingling across your skin at his words, at the recognition of his power.
“You asked what I want. You want the same as me, and I the same as you. A companion . A partner. Unlike them, I won't judge you for your feelings. Won’t judge you for your power … You want – I can feel it rippling across your skin,” he closes his eyes, cocking his head, shivering as though to illustrate the point. “... Mmm, and I want, too. We can want together. If you'd let us.”
The flickering light of your room seemed to dim in tandem with his syrupy words, cloying and dripping like honey into golden nettle tea. The swirling honeytar of his eyes appraising you as the Force connection prickled with hazy heat between your bodies and the damnable musk of the jungle air.
You press yourself further into the wall he’d leaned you against, tilting your chin to appraise him in kind, searching for veracity in his words. Something more substantial than the “spun sugar” he’d accused the Jedi of weaving.
As though he could sense your trepidation before it could cross your face, he placed a hand on your hip, the contact searing you through the thin fabric of your tank top.
“They kicked you out because you feel. I'd never do that. I want you to feel … to feel power. To feel what you’re capable of. Of what it can become. Rage. Fear. Loss. Desire. Train with me, you’ll feel it all. I want you to feel it all … to feel me.”
Desire, he had spoken of. The gentle roll of his low voice over the syllables echoing perfectly in your ears. Desire, desire, desire. That desire, so like venom snaking its way through your blood, hot and purposeful. An all-consuming burn through your blood, befitting of a poisoner as he.
“You felt it, didn’t you? When I came in,” he iterates, somewhere south of a plea. “All. That. Power.” The hand not resting on your hip comes to cup your face once more. “I can teach you.”
You had read somewhere once, in the Archives, about creatures on long-abandoned planets with the ability to draw their prey in through vanity. The flash of feathers. Or shiny scales. Big, baleful eyes, perhaps. Only to sink their teeth in once their intended had come too close.
You draw in a breath, searching his pleasing face for any sign of a tell. Of the flicker of eyes that would signify deception. Of hidden fangs beneath his beautiful, full lips. Of anything that would bely his true intentions behind your Force connection. You swept your eyes across broad, defined shoulders, down toned, muscled arms exposed through his sleeveless shift. A warriors’ weapon wrapped in a pleasing package, to be sure. But … with no discernable hint of false suggestion.
You shift your weight once more onto the balls of your feet, away from the wall and into him . Continuing your appraisal as you tilt your head, allowing the scent of his skin – the tang of sweat from the humid jungle air commingling with something sharp and clean – to wash over you.
You invade his space now, leaning into the hand that grips your hip and the other that cradles your head, boldly brushing your lips along his with the barest hint of touch, feeling his lips smile against yours.
You whisper, your lips silken against his, “Tell me, poisoner … You seduce me with lies, is that it? You wish for me to call you Master? Forsake all else to worship at your altar?”
You catch the flash in his eyes as the word “seduce” leaves your lips.
“I haven't lied to you,” his voice is a hum. An attempt to provide reassurance as he couples them with what he hopes is a comforting gesture. His fingers travel from your hip to trail your ribs, a partial embrace.
“Do you consider not telling the entire truth to be a lie?”
“Have I shown you any lies? No. Just dreams. The promise of what could be. What I –,” he pauses, “– we could be. I cannot fabricate the Force, little warrior. Everything you feel tonight is you . It’s me. What more could you want? ”
Your once-steely resolve is crumbling under the weight of his insinuation … "everything you feel tonight” – the honey in his words sweet to your ears, you wonder fleetingly if he'd be even sweeter on your tongue.
And he knew you, didn’t he? By his own admission, he’d seen your faults and flaws for months … your desires. And he had shown you promises, premonitions, predilections… a future of power. And if there is power in two hemispheres – one of sweltering heat, one of blistering ice. Which were you? And which was he?
Together you would surely melt…
“No more rules, little warrior,” he sighs, “just the power of two.” He slides his lips across yours, purposeful, before capturing your lower lip between his teeth, nipping once before releasing, admiring the way your expression flickered from defiance to desire before surging forward, pressing you back into the wall as his lips capture yours.
He swallows your gasp, bringing his fingers to wrap loosely around your neck while his other hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt.
You break from his kiss with a gasp between swollen, bitten lips. But he gives you no reprieve, his lips trailing to your neck, where he sets about pressing hot-mouthed kisses. Molten lava flooding the column of your throat, chased with the scrape of nipping teeth. Soothe and scrape. Push and pull. Give, give, give, take.
You thread your fingers through the silken hair tucked behind his ears, tugging him from his ministrations on your neck and forcing him to meet your eyes – to see if the blaze of want you felt scorching your skin was reflected in the liquid coal, ready to ignite.
His lips twist into a smirk at your insistent tugging; if he was at all surprised, he didn’t show it. His face the perfect picture of pleasure.
“What would we do with it?” You inquire, “This power?”
“Hmmm,” he pretended to ponder, suddenly scooping you, a brief lift as he crossed the short distance to your bed, seating himself with you on his lap. No concession of dominance; merely placing you precisely where he means to. To allow you to feel him beneath you.
“What would you like to do, little warrior, hm?” His fingers flicked the thin straps of your flimsy sleep shirt, exposing your shoulders, leaning forward to trail his lips along the now-bared expanse of your shoulder, your collar bones, your neck, his eyes glancing up to watch your face as he went. “Make them pay? Take what’s yours?”
His hands feel their way down your form, down your sides, along your hips, the skin of his palms rasping against the smooth expanse of your thighs has his fine-boned fingers make their way beneath the loose fabric of the cropped pants you sleep in, dangerously close to the precipice of your desire , urging you to move. Guiding your hips in a rhythmic glide in his lap.
You gasp at his attentions, at the combination of his promises and the heady feel of his skin along yours, bringing your hands to grip his biceps – desperately seeking a way to anchor yourself.
And if it’s his poison that will bring you to the edge, would you regret it? You were starting to believe you could never regret him , not at the feel of his chest pressed against yours, the toned muscle beneath your fingers. His sharp angles caressing your soft curves, replacing the lonely ache in your bones with the lovely heat of him, both his promises and his attentions.
His mouth was keyed and intentional in its work of you, with pressed kisses like flower petals blooming along the skin of your neck, followed by the scraping thorns of his teeth. Brutish and beautiful, as his fine-boned fingers crept to the inside of your thighs, rubbing along your clothed center, intensifying the ache you felt. He shifts your weight in his lap, causing your legs to spread wider, straddling him lowly as he tugs the offending fabric aside, guiding your hips into a roll over his clothed lap and his growing hardness. Manifesting his delight at the choked gasp you emitted in the form of a teasing little buck of his hips, guiding you down as he guided himself up, delighting in the sharp gasps that met his ears as he continues to sway you to his rhythm.
“Desire isn't a sin, little warrior,” he breathes the words into your mouth, lips a hairs’ breadth apart, the better to swallow your moans. “What we feel feeds our connection to the Force, gives you strength ... If you know how. Let me show you. Touch me.”
It was as though electricity was crackling, popping beneath your fingertips as you took his instruction and began to explore the expanse of his body, slipping your hands beneath his tunic to feel the silken heat of his firm torso, the ache within you mounting at the heady combination of the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips – so long since you’d touched another, been touched – and his hardness between the cleft of your thighs. Smoldering, low-heat burned along your skin and beneath your fingertips. Or was it his fingers that were doing the burning? It was hard to tell where he ended and you began, one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you bodily into him, an infinite loop of power and pleasure.
As you continue to touch him, you could feel it – his connection to the force, strong, volatile, like lightning striking the ocean – crackling and formidable like the man who contained it.
And Qimir – you had long since given up trying to determine if it was, in fact, his real name – rewards you with a gift of his own, the velvet rumble of a groan of pleasure emanating from his throat at your touch. A sound of syrup and satisfaction.
Pleased that you could garner such a reaction from a being as powerful as he, you smile, boldly meeting his lips with a kiss, opening your mouth with a gasp, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth, to taste the zip of power that he had determined in his moths of observation was just you, a torrent of citrus drizzle, bold and sweet.
Reluctantly, he parts his lips from yours, ducking his head to tug the straps of your top down with his teeth, exposing your breasts to the heated air of the room. And if your desire at the repeated rolling of his hips beneath yours wasn’t enough to do you in, you figured this might. Bathing in the celestial feel the press his lips to your nipple, tongue swirling over the peaking flesh. Pleased at the goosebumps that erupt now in the wake of his attention.
While he continues to tease your breasts with tongue and teeth, Qimir guides his other hand along your thighs, slipping his practiced fingers beneath your shorts, delighting in the wetness he was met with, basking in the jolting shiver the motion elicited from you, at the friction of his fingers rubbing along the seam of you – causing you to wiggle, to roll your hips into his touch.
And oh, as he slips his fingers inside of you, your eyes roll back, tilting your head to allow Qimir to admire the curving, elegant slope of exposed throat – prey before a predator, gasping at the pleasure he wrought. Breathless. If you thought he was teasing you before, his fingers inside of you were their own type of mocking punishment, well aware of his effect on you and the way your cunt throbs as he strokes inside of you. You could do nothing but wriggle your hips, whimpering piteously and attempting to roll your hips to follow his fingers as they work you, as this crescendo builds.
“Say you’ll be mine, warrior, and you can have it.” he promises. A new oath. One you’d never forsake. For him, you’d never turn, never abjure. Not so long as his touch made stars erupt behind your eyes, not so long as his lips dripped syrup promises down your throat.
Kissing you once more, golden and slow, molten and revelatory as he works his fingers inside of you, your thighs parting to accommodate him. His thumb rolls repeated brushes over your clit, delighting in the starshine burst as you reached your peak, a broken little moan that sounded suspiciously like the word “master,” passing your lips in a keening sigh.
You regard him through bleary, closing eyes and the warm, citrus haze of your orgasm as he slips his fingers from you, guiding you down to recline in your bed, stroking your hair as he does so, lulling you as a lover would.
“Sleep, warrior,” his velvet voice meets your ears, lyrical and lilting. “I’ll be back for you.”
And like each night before that one, his figure slips from you… as though he was never there. It wasn’t a dream, was it? It was hard to tell after months of this teasing game. After his promises built so much only to guide you to this release.
And in the silvery light of the jungle’s dawn, you awoke with that very question on your lips, met with the sight of your saber placed gently on your little bedside table as opposed to its usual hiding spot. You wake to the sweet afterache of something between your thighs, to the scraped marks of teeth along the expanse of your neck.
And to the promise of something – of a future of power and partnership. If only you’d be so bold as to accept it. As you eyed the saber, you recalled the prickle of his Force power along your skin, increasing with his proximity. And by the time he arrived to meet you again, you knew what your answer would be …
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
andulkaphoto
origamiaround
pixelskylines
stormborns
