Cait Cursebreaker

All About Last Christmas 

The blustery wind of Chicago winter was unforgiving today. It was only 4:53 pm but it was already pitch dark outside and soft snowflakes swirled lazily in the glare of streetlights. I had all but clawed my way out of the office this early–was it early? –requesting a 4:30 pm leave weeks in advance. 

My dreadful manager, Azriel Sebastian Singer, pursed his lips, like he was sucking on a lemon, when I encountered him in the hallway on my way out of the office. 

“Leaving early, Elain, is not how you get ahead,” he told me then.

“Sorry, Azriel,” was all I said. Why did I say that I was sorry? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t do anything improper or incorrect, but somehow, under his scrutiny, I always felt the need to apologise. For what? I didn’t know.

“Have a good day then,” he tossed dismissively.

Day. Not night. Because unless I left before 7 pm, it was ‘day’ to him. And therefore, I was ‘slacking’. 

“Thank you, Azriel,” was all I said. “You too.”

He strode off without further glance, his hand in his pocket, his perfect dark navy suit barely creased.

God, how I detested him. Avoidance has been my preferred and best option when it came to interacting with Mr. Singer, but as he was my direct supervisor, that often proved challenging. However, this time around, I did my due diligence. I’d emailed him weeks in advance–weeks, for god’s sake–only to request a reasonable leave on a Friday in early December. It was frustrating when he didn’t respond for four days and that forced me to ping him again, sending a gentle reminder. 

His response was predictably terse: If you must. 

That’s how he responded, if you must. Well, yes, I must. Problem was that it wasn’t exactly an answer. Was it a ‘yes, if you must’ or ‘I’d rather you didn’t, but if you must…’? He was impossible to read and I had no idea what his answer actually meant. The most logical assumption was that it was a ‘yes’, however, when it came to Azriel Singer, assumptions were a death trap. 

Hence, I was forced to face him, and ask the question directly. 

I really don't know why he filled me with so much anxiety. Perhaps, it was because of his superior bearing, and how he seemed to judge everything I did. Maybe it’s his look, intense and scrutinising, the eyes that seemed to be always watching. Maybe it was because he was always…excellent, at everything. No matter what, he just had It–as far as I knew, he jumped from promotion to promotion with remarkable ease, and nothing seemed impossible for him. He dressed well. He smelled delicious. He knew everything there was to know about sports, wine, whiskey, eating, cars, art, music, politics. He knew how to speak to anyone, about anything. He was never awkward, or unsure. And if he was–though I refused to believe it–he never showed it. 

But with all that excellence came arrogance, and unreasonable demands, and impossible standards. He didn’t tolerate imperfection at work. He didn’t accept sloppiness. I’d seen him send more than one associate home in the middle of the day because they weren’t wearing suits. ‘We are Night Capital Management, not Sizzler’ was his favourite expression when he berated someone for untidiness or incorrect data. And gosh, have I been on the receiving end of that critique! 

Redo, and pages marked up in red.

You are better than this

Sloppy work

Yep, that was pretty typical feedback from Azriel Singer. He never offered an explanation willingly. Never provided guidance. 

He just…waited.

He watched me and he waited.

And when my tongue wouldn’t move in my mouth, and tears pricked my eyes, and I couldn’t bear to ask him for help, he simply ordered ‘Fix this’ and left me to break my head trying to figure out what the issue was.

On Monday, I couldn’t wait any longer. ‘If you must’ wasn’t cutting it. I’d wracked my brain all weekend long trying to figure out how to avoid him, and still get the ‘early’ leave permission, but ultimately, I decided to man up and just ask directly. And still I stalled until almost 5 pm, before finally mustering enough courage to walk to his office.

He was seated behind his large desk–devoid of any personal items, of course–staring at his computer. Uncharacteristically, his suit jacket was off, and the sleeves of his pale blue shirt were rolled up almost to the elbows, exposing his thick, muscular forearms. And the scars. Of course everyone was aware of the scars, though not the story behind them, but when I glanced at his arms, I realised just how far the burn scars extended. It wasn’t just his hands. Streaks of glossy scar tissue reached almost to the elbow.

He glanced at me, and then followed my gaze and when he saw me looking at the scars he actually shifted in his chair. Didn’t say anything, but his expression hardened.

“Azriel, sorry to bother you,” I told him, because he hasn’t said a word just watching me stand there. “But, do I have your approval for Friday, the 5th. To leave a little earlier?”

“Didn’t I already give it to you?” he asked indifferently. 

“Ummm, I guess,” I responded stupidly.

“You guess?” he repeated. “Did you not get my email?”

“I did,” I stammered. “I just wanted to confirm.”

“Well, perhaps if you need verbal confirmation to emails, then you might as well not bother with them and just run back and forth asking me in person,” he suggested.

I flushed.

God, he was an asshole.

“Okay then,” what else was I supposed to say to him, other than call him names? “Thanks.”

Just as I turned to leave, he suddenly asked, “Where are you going?”

“What?” That was a weird question. “I am…back to my cube?”

“No, I mean on the 5th? Are you going somewhere?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms on his chest, effectively covering the scars, though I saw the gesture for what it was–he was uncomfortable.

“No, not really. I just have some things to do,”

“And the weekend isn’t enough time for you to do those things?” he pressed.

I didn’t know why he suddenly decided to interrogate me about this. 

“I just…” I sighed. “Just things, for Christmas,”

“You are taking time off work to do Christmas shopping?” he actually raised a brow in my direction.

“Is it so unusual?” I demanded at last, losing my patience with him. Why was this any of his business anyway?

“So you are going Christmas shopping? Alone?” he repeated. 

Alone? Why did he care if I was going alone? “Um, yes. I have things to take care of, alone.”

He hummed under his breath, sizing me up with his heavy gaze. 

“Is that so?”

His probing questions drove me crazy. What did he want?

“Are you going to tell me then that Graysen Nolan taking the same day off has nothing to do with this?”

Graysen?

This was about Graysen? I was bewildered by the mention of our co-worker. Graysen Nolan was an analyst on the team, and yes, he’d been flirtatious with me during meetings and lunches, and had even attempted to ask me out, but I wasn’t particularly interested.

There was nothing wrong with him–he was handsome, in a preppy boy sort of way. Tall, but not as tall as Azriel, fit, with a heap of brown hair on top of his head which made him look like a llama. Great teeth and blue eyes. I had nothing against Graysen, but I was too mentally exhausted and stressed out to really consider any kind of dating right now. Especially someone from my own team. 

And I guess that I was right to do so, considering the interrogation that Azriel was putting me through currently. 

“You know that interoffice romances aren’t encouraged,” Azriel reminded me sternly, watching for my reaction. 

“I know that,” I said quickly. “I am not…I am not with Gray. I am not with anyone. I am not dating,” it all came out in one sentence. IamnotwithGrayIamnotwithanyoneIamnotdating. I sounded deranged. But I wanted to make sure that Azriel didn’t think that there was any impropriety happening on his team and that I wasn’t involved with a coworker.

He sighed at last, seemingly relieved.

“Good to know. We wouldn’t want you dating. Anyone…”

“No, no,” I agreed quickly.

He sighed again and finally nodded, “Alright then, have fun.”

“Thank you, Azriel.”

He didn’t mention it for the rest of the week, but as I was leaving today, he just happened to appear in the hallway and offered his unhelpful rebuke about leaving early and my career. 

It’s not that Azriel Singer was an awful man. He wasn’t. It would be unfair to characterise him that way. In fact, to most, he was irresistible: at a towering 6”5, he was muscular and extremely fit, his expensive dark suits always bespoke and made to accentuate his excellent physique. He carried himself confidently and with natural ease, and despite being a quiet man, who never said more than necessary, I also watched just about everyone at the office gravitate towards him. He was magnetic in how he moved about, his head bobbing above the line of cubicles, his voice distinct and attractive because of its deep, gravelly quality and timbre. But it was the face that really was unforgettable. Listen, I might not like him, but I am realistic. The man is devastating. Cheekbones that could cut glass, and a jawline as sharp as a knife’s edge. Big hazel eyes, more green than brown and full lips which softened the cruel set of his mouth. 

He was the kind of man who succeeded in everything, it would seem. Men were desperate for his approval and women were desperate for his attention. 

I don’t really know when it started. I suppose a year ago, last December.

At the last Christmas party, held at the enchantingly lovely The North Pond, there was a trivia game that our Senior Managing Director Rhys Darling had organised, and insisted that everyone partake in. There were groans and moans of discontent and no one wanted to go against Azriel, until they pushed me forward and told me that ‘you are so smart, you can take him’. It’s not that I am exceptionally smart, though Azriel and our Director seem to think so, but the questions were relatively easy, and if you had a good memory, you could take Azriel on. I didn’t want to. I really didn’t. I didn’t want to be scrutinised by those hazel eyes and I didn’t want to see that tiny smirk on his lips. I would’ve rather disappeared completely. But I played along and both of us received the same scores. I think that he was surprised that we came head to head. I wasn’t surprised, but I didn't let him or anyone know that. Azriel only won because of ‘sudden death’ and he shouted the correct answer a fraction of a second before me. The question was tricky–what country that doesn’t directly border the US (aka Canada and Mexico) is closest to America? Everyone was shouting their incorrect answers, most assuming that it was Cuba. A good guess, but an incorrect one. Apparently, only Azriel and I knew the right answer–and he was just a hair faster than I. In case you were wondering, it’s Russia. Only about two miles separates Russia and the US. I know, it’s a fun fact–use it at your own holiday party next. 

My colleagues seemed surprised, but they yelled excitedly and High Fived me, like we were at a frat party and not at the North Pond. I supposed that considering the amount of money the company was plunking into this party, a little yelling was allowed. Besides, we rented out the whole restaurant.

It was then that he’d approached me, after a good fifteen minutes of humble bragging about how he is ‘just a dilettante’. I mean, who even uses ‘dilettante’? I noticed a few confused glances, and spotted a couple of people reaching for their phones to check on the meaning of the word.

In case anyone's wondering, a dilettante is a person who cultivates an area of interest, such as the arts, without real commitment or knowledge. A dabbler.

“Elain, a word.”

I remember how I shuddered back then. It was involuntary. I couldn’t help it.

The dreaded expression. It haunted me. Haunts me to this day, really.

Let me explain a little about my background.

I am twenty-seven years old, born and bred in Chicago. I didn’t go away to school, but attended Northwestern, before being accepted to the Kellogg School of Business. I received my MBA and at 26 joined Night Capital Management–one of the top five investment firms in the world. The fancy description of what we do is that we provide investment, advisory and asset management solutions. The short of it is simple–we manage money. Everyone’s heard of BlackRock, Vanguard, State Street, Citadel…We are like that, only more exclusive. 

I was hired as a Senior Financial Analyst, in Asset Management specifically. Obviously investments have to do with how to invest the money, advisory is where to invest it and asset management is all about growing the existing funds. And that’s what I do–I run reports, analyse risks, look at projections and calculate the best possible financial option for my clients. Well, our clients. I am not a hedge fund manager. I am just an analyst. 

The actual manager is Azriel Singer.

When I was interviewing for the position–seven rounds, no less! –thankfully, he wasn’t in his role yet. He was still a senior manager, a step below what he currently is, which was the manager of an entire fund. For lack of a better term, Azriel Singer 'inherited’ me, and he’s been tormenting me ever since his promotion back 13 months ago.

“Elain, a word.”

And that’s how we met.

I didn’t know who he was. I was in my role only for two months, so I was still getting my bearings and learning who was who and what was what. We received an email regarding him being promoted and that it would be effective in 90 days. We then received another email, this time from him, stating that he was looking forward to meeting us and that we’d be part of his team. He’d schedule individual introductions with each one and discuss ‘deliverables’ and ‘performance expectations’. 

I raised my eyes from my screen and was faced with an enormous looming presence, which threw a shadow over my cubicle. He stood there, like some warrior of old–huge, broad-shouldered, pristine, but also wild somehow, his arms so big, they were like tree trunks. He was just so big. And I caught myself thinking that I’d never met a man more handsome than him ever in my life. It was almost obscene. 

I blinked at him. 

He just looked down, his gaze both disinterested and intense. His eyes, forest-green and brown like hazelnuts, considered me for a long time, as he assessed me wordlessly. I didn’t know what to say, or who he was, and why he was standing here. 

“Elain?” he asked at last.

“Yes?” my voice came out sounding thin and small. 

“A word,” he said impassively.

I swallowed. Suddenly, my throat felt impossibly dry. 

“Yes?”

“Better be done in my office,” he ordered curtly, and then turned around and headed down the hallway, expecting me to follow him.

I jumped up from my seat, still unsure of what he was and who he was, though I suspected that this was my new boss.

His wide, powerful back flexed with muscles beneath the dark charcoal suit that he was wearing. I could see that the suit was bespoke, and British. My younger sister Feyre is a fashion designer and I know all about various styles and cuts of suits, because menswear has very rigorous schools of design. You could never mistake a Caraceni for a Henry Poole. 

He didn’t look back to see if I was following. I suppose he just expected me to. 

The name plaque outside the door said Azriel S. Singer, Esq. 

So he was a lawyer too. Great.

By the time I reached the office, he was already inside, seated behind his bare desk, a wall of windows behind him, overlooking downtown Chicago. 

Quite the corner office he got.

“Sit,” he told me. I sat.

He folded his hands on his stomach, lacing the fingers together and I noticed the scars. Obviously I said nothing. He made me nervous. His presence was dark and overwhelming, like he swallowed the air around him.

“Elain Archeron, a Senior Analyst,” he stated the obvious. “You started in Investments, worked there for three months and then were recommended to Asset Management. That’s quite a quick promotion.”

“I wasn't promoted,” I argued quietly. 

He shot me an unamused glare, silencing me and making it known that he wasn’t pleased with my interruption.

“Nevertheless you are here now.”

I nodded just once. 

“I usually don't do this with my subordinates,” he said meaningfully, implying that I was the exception. “But I will do this for you. Ask me anything.”

“Pardon?”

“You have two minutes of my time. Ask me anything.”

I felt hot and was sweating beneath my black jumper. I had no idea what his game was and why he was bothering me, and I certainly didn't have any questions for him, but I knew that he was expecting something. Something smart. Something that he wouldn’t consider a waste of his time.

“What’s the secret to achieving success?” I asked at last. My heart was beating wildly in my chest and my palms were sweaty.

A small smirk touched his mouth, as if he was pleased with my question.

“In this company?” he said and then rubbed his chin. “Come in first and leave last.”

That seemed deceptively simple. 

“That’s all?” I repeated.

He nodded.

“They basically want to see how much pain you can take. How dedicated you are. How bad do you want it.”

Then he peered at him with his penetrating eyes and asked, “And do you want it bad, Elain?”

I looked behind him, at the stunning view behind the windows–the blue waters of Lake Michigan, the greenish ribbon of the Chicago River, the gleaming skyscrapers all around us.

“I do,” I said at last.

His handsome face changed and turned cold and unreadable.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“I am,” I insisted.

“Well, we’ll see if you will tell me the same thing in a few months,” he stated menacingly.

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but then he spread a stack of reports on his desk and said, 

“Let’s start with this. Because you are not going anywhere with a report like this. This is pathetic. I expect better from a Senior Analyst.”

And that’s how it began.

Three months later, we were at the North Pond, champions of the trivia game. And just like I did every day prior, I heard the cursed expression ‘Elain, a word’. 

What did he want? Again?

He already won! I lost. There was nothing else to talk about.

I was hoping that I could sneak out soon-ish and disappear and go home and get into my sweats. 

Listen, I am an ambivert. I don’t mind socialising with others, it doesn’t bother me, but I was running on empty and the trivia game took a lot out of me because of the pressure. Not only did I have to lead my team (who were useless), I needed to do that against Azriel, my terrifying boss.

And now, he was yet again, looming over me, probably here to berate me or gloat. Again, in his defense, he has always been reasonably respectful to me, and didn’t put me down publicly. When we were in our 1:1 that was a different story. He never lost his temper, was never unprofessional, was never outright mean or improper. It’s just that he had this ability to destroy everyone’s self-esteem and pride with two-three well-placed words. And it usually began with the words ‘Elain, a word’. I knew that I was about to be annihilated. That my reports would be red marked all over the place. And that I was going to get a dispassionate ‘you can do better’ comment, with him expectantly waiting for me to ask him ‘how’. I never did. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. I didn’t care that this job sucked the life out of me and that I spent most of my weekends working. I didn’t want his help. I didn’t want him near me. I didn’t want to see his stupid gorgeous face and hear this stupid gravelly voice. I didn’t want any of it. 

“Good job out there,” he said suddenly.

Y’all. I just about fell over. 

What was this?

Did I just transport to the Bizarro World? Azriel Singer giving an unsolicited compliment out of his own free will?

I forgot how to speak for a moment or two. I really had no idea what to say and he expected me to say.

“Thank you?” I managed at last, desperately looking around to see if anyone was available to save me. But of course no such luck.

“Please don’t say that you were surprised,” I begged him suddenly. I am not sure where it came from, but I desperately wanted him to acknowledge that I was…good. At something. I was good at trivia, at least.

He looked at me with genuine surprise and even took a step back.

“Why would I?” he asked.

I sighed.

“Because…because…I don’t know,” I truly didn’t. I didn’t know what he actually thought. 

“Contrary to whatever you are thinking right now, or in general about me, I respect you, Elain,” he told me and his expression was sincere and kind. Something in his face softened at that moment. 

“Do you?” I confirmed.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he raised his dark brow at me. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to think most of the time, if I am being honest,” I admitted.

He looked at me, and then, shockingly whispered, “You look beautiful today, Elain.”

I gasped.

Did he just actually say this to me right now or was I hallucinating?

He smirked and then offered, “let me buy you a drink! We fought valiantly and we came out on top. As expected.”

“As expected,” I whispered. 

Smiling conspiratorially, he moved closer to me and suddenly, I felt his large, warm palm on the small of my back. He never touched me before. Even when we first met, when he ambushed me at my desk, we didn’t shake hands because we were not properly introduced. I was used to him and his nearness because he often stood behind my desk or sat near me while showing me something, or when we prepared for meetings together. However, this was the very first time when he touched me and I remember feeling very warm and very secure at his side. He was so large and I knew that if anything, this is the man who’d protect me from anything. I mean, who’d even challenge him? But still, the feeling was pleasant and novel. He smelled good, his cologne clearly expensive–Armani? Tom Ford? –and I scented him like a loon, like I always did when he was near. I am not exactly sure why and what compelled me to smell him, but there was something alluring in the combination of his masculine musk and cedar.

He guided me towards the bar and out of the main dining room, his hand never leaving my back. It wasn’t just his fingertips that touched my burgundy dress–he had his whole palm planted just above the curve of my behind. It felt intimate. Possessive, in a way a boyfriend or a husband might touch his woman. But I wasn’t his. And he didn’t want me to be either.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked, leaning over the bar. With one hand, he pulled a bar stool closer and then handed his card to the bartender, opening a tab. “Whatever she wants,” he jerked his chin towards me.

“You don’t have to!” I exclaimed hurriedly. “I am not much of a drinker,”

“I am,” he winked at me. “What’s your poison, Elain? Whiskey? Tequila? Vodka? Gin?”

“An Aperol Spritz?” I blurted, even though I didn’t want one. But it seemed like a safe, cheap choice. It wasn’t a winter drink. 

“She’ll have a dirty martini,” Azriel said easily, ignoring my lame order. “Gin. Two measures of Gordon’s. One measure of Gray Goose. Half a measure of Kina Lillet. Olive brine. A spritz of lemon zest and three anchovy olives.

“And I’ll have a Macallan, neat.”

“You got it,” the bartender nodded, clearly impressed by Azriel’s order. I didn’t even know half of the things he said. Also, I didn’t like anchovies, I don’t think.

“Trust me on the anchovy olives,” he said, obviously reading my mind. 

“What if I wanted the Aperol Spritz?” I insisted, not liking him taking all the control away from me.

“No one wants a spritz in December in Chicago. But if you insist…should I get you one?”

I pouted.

“No.”

He smiled at me and while we were waiting for the drinks, he unexpectedly wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the floor, placing me on the stool. 

“Wait, wha-,” he began saying, but he just smiled at me again.

The drinks were set in front of us, and I couldn’t finish my thought. Azriel picked up his tumbler and raised it, lightly clinking it with my martini glass. 

“To the victors go the spoils!” he announced and then watched me take a sip of my martini. 

Oh god. Even now, I think of it and I can’t forget how lovely it was. Crisp  and sharp and enticing. Kind of like the man who’d ordered it.

He didn’t sit down and remained standing, still towering over me, his hazel eyes keen and penetrating.

“I want to ask you a question, Elain. And I’d like an honest answer,” he requested, taking me aback.

“Yes?”

“Why don’t you like me?”

“No! What?” I scrambled for answers “I am…I don’t,”

“I asked for you to be honest,” he cut me off and then sipped his whiskey.

“It’s not true,” I argued, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and overwhelmed. It wasn’t a fair question and he shouldn’t have asked me that. What was he expecting me to say exactly?

He didn’t wait for me to continue, but instead, said,

“Because the thing is that I like you.”

I swallowed my drink hard, stunned into silence by his admission. He didn’t seem fazed and continued,

“I think that you are brilliant. You are sharp, intelligent, highly accomplished. You are the best analyst on my team–by far. Look, I have a few reasonably good people on the team, and a few who aren't worth my time.”

“Then if you think so, why are you so harsh with me?” I asked boldly. 

His brow furrowed and he shook his head, “No. I am not.”

“I think that you are,” I insisted. “You criticize me viciously. You are mean. You berate me for every little infraction,”

“I am doing my job,” he said plainly. “Which means getting the best results and the best work out of my associates. I am not going to baby you, if that’s what you are asking. And I don’t ‘berate’ you. I correct you. There is a difference, you know. In fact, I will expect even more from you.”

“Why? How much more can I give?”

Coldly, he said, “you’ll give as much as I take, until I am satisfied.”

“And when is that going to be?”

He chuckled darkly.

“Not any time soon, Elain. Not anytime soon. In fact,”

My heart dropped.

I was vaguely aware that his palm was pressing to the small of my back again. I felt his thumb stoke the few lower knobs of my spine. 

“It’s not official yet,” he said at last. “But I wanted to tell you and give you a heads up.”

I swallowed the rest of my martini. I drank it too fast. It was going to my head. I was feeling hot and mellow. 

Azriel snapped his finger and said to the bartender ‘another one for her’. 

“Nooo,” I protested. “I am buzzed…”

“I know,” he said calmly.

“What do you want from me?” I whined, emboldened by the alcohol that I had consumed.

“You know that I am officially moving into my role on January 1st,” he stated.

I nodded. I hoped that he wouldn’t be my manager anymore.

I hated hearing ‘Elain, a word’. I hated the red Montblanc pen that he used on my reports and calculations. I hated his critiques. I didn’t want to hear him tell me how I messed up and where I went wrong. I wanted a nice boss, who’d be kind and supportive of me.

“And I have the opportunity to build my own team. And I want you, Elain.”

I got another drink handed to me. He was staring at me, his hand now on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. My shoulder was bare and his hand was hot and dry. The silvery scar tissue on his palm felt smooth and if he had calluses, I couldn’t feel them. His fingers were long and strong. His hand was very heavy. 

My heart dropped.

He wanted me.

“On my team,” he added. “Under me. My...tutelage.”

I looked up at him. There was something like triumph blazing in his eyes. 

His hand tightened on my shoulder. 

And I knew then that I wouldn’t be escaping any time soon.

All About This Christmas

I approached her, huddling into my scarf, wanting to do this quickly and get back in my car.

Typically, I took the Blue Line downtown where the office was located, but today, I drove, spent $56 on parking, which made me sick to my stomach, but it was worth it.

She was so fluffy.

I smiled to myself.

Perfect size.

I hurried over to the seller and pointed, 

“I want this,”

“One,” to my horror, utmost, undiluted horror, Azriel Singer’s voice sounded behind me.

I had to be hallucinating. This was PTSD, right? I was hearing his voice everywhere! Right? After a year of working with him, and him being the dominant man in my life, whom I saw more than I saw anyone, including my sisters, I was just hearing his voice in my head. 

I couldn’t…I couldn’t turn around. It was impossible. I was definitely hearing things.

Maybe, maybe it was Cassian?!?

A little glimmer of hope lit up in my chest. Yes, it had to be Cassian. Obviously. How didn’t I guess that? Azriel would never leave work early and wouldn’t be here, buying a Christmas tree.

Cassian Wilbur Singer, Esq. was Azriel’s younger brother. 

After Azriel casually handed me my indefinite sentence that promised that I would remain under his control and on his team for the foreseeable future, I had to grin and bear it. Short of quitting the company, which is something I was absolutely unwilling to do, I resigned myself to serve at Azriel’s feet for lack of a better term. 

I’d learned a few things about my new boss fairly quickly. He was incredibly patient–surprising, I know, but also ruthless. But mostly, he was just demanding. 

Elain, redo the projections for the 4th quarter

Elain, did you consider the new data? I sent it to you yesterday 

Elain, you are using too much finance jargon in this report

Elain, walk me through your analysis

Elain, send me the numbers before 10 am

Elain, let’s walk through this together before the meeting

Elain, what are you doing for lunch? Let me know if you have time to discuss?

And on and on and on.

My sister Feyre said that I was ‘the victim of my own success’ and that I’ve made myself ‘indispensable to him’ and that he grew to rely on me too much.

My other sister Nesta was harsher in her assessment and said that ‘he uses you like a crutch’ and ‘he knows you are a pushover, so he is taking advantage of your inability to say ‘no’ to him’. 

I didn’t really want to say ‘no’ to him. And maybe I was a pushover, but I just felt that it was easier to let him guide the team and be responsible for the decision-making. At work, Azriel Singer was a star, and I trusted him. As hard as he was, he was also fair. And maybe, just maybe, I liked hearing his praise, or when he hummed under his nose and smirked to himself. I knew then that he was pleased with my work. Receiving his approval was incredibly difficult, and when it came, I was going to take advantage of it and enjoy every morsel of his good will. 

What did not create any good will with him was when he caught me a couple of times asking my team members for assistance, or an explanation. Especially if it related to something that he sent back or corrected on my report. 

I wasn’t sure why, but for whatever reason that set him off. He wouldn’t say anything. He never confronted me, and if I hadn’t learned how to read him, I might have missed it entirely. But I did pick up on a few scoffs, the subtle changes in his expression, the annoyance that he tried to hide. What was an even better indicator of his displeasure, was how rough he became afterwards, and how harsh his critique and his demands were towards me. I knew that he wanted me to ask him for directions, and I knew that he liked to make decisions for me, but I couldn't bring myself to do it most of the time. Firstly, I liked figuring things out myself, and secondly, he was intimidating as hell.

I met Cassian Singer one morning, following an early call with a client, which was held in Azriel’s office. By the time the call ended, I was tired, hungry and cranky. While Azriel did most of the talking, I needed to speak to some of the numbers and explain two parts of the report. It wasn’t difficult, but the client was asking a lot of questions, and while Azriel was helpful and guided the conversation, I was expected to deliver my part flawlessly.

“Good job, Elain,” was all he said when I got up and unplugged my laptop.

I smiled. I pressed the laptop to my chest and left his office, heading to the break room with a pep in my step.

A very tall, very handsome, very muscular man was in the break room, laughing with the other men from my team. He was broad, his shoulders spanning nearly the width of the fridge. He had the same bronze skin tone as Azriel, the same hazel eyes and the same black hair, though his was longer. And the voice was the same. It was jarring to hear–watching another man speak in Azriel’s voice. 

He looked at me, while I went to pour myself a cup of coffee. By the time I was done with the cup and tossed the creamer in the bin, when I turned around, I saw Azriel standing in the doorway, arms crossed on his wide chest. He was watching me with his typically unreadable expression. I thought that I looked good that day–I wore a dusty pink dress, a little flowy, so it didn’t hug my body too closely, and my brown suede pumps. My hair was smooth and sleek, tied in a high ponytail.

“Az, care to introduce us?” the man swaggered towards me.

Azriel pursed his lips and then simply said, “Elain Archeron, this is my brother Cassian Singer.”

“And the pleasure is all mine,” Cassian murmured and extended his huge hand to me. I hesitated for a moment, and he urged me on, saying, “come on, Ellie, I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

“Cass!” Azriel snapped at him, almost angrily. I wasn’t sure why. Cassian ignored him and pumped my fist in his. 

“So, this is the brilliant Elain that I’ve heard some much about,” he added. “Nice to meet you, Elain. Finally I am putting a face to the reputation.”

I had a reputation? Also, brilliant?

“Cassian, you are being weird,” Azriel sneered, while he went to grab a bagel off the tray. Cassian argued,

“Why? Poor Ellie is stuck here with you bunch, the drollest and the dullest finance bros of all finance bros,”

I snorted a laugh at that and Azriel didn’t look amused, while the others booed and shouted.

“Come work for my department, Ellie,” Cassian offered. “We are rich and successful and we are all lawyers!”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Azriel hissed through his teeth. “What are you doing here? Don’t attempt to poach my best analyst either,”

At that, Cassian snatched my cappuccino muffin from my plate and saluted me, before swallowing the muffin top all in one bite.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whistled. “My glum brother is not fond of many people, Ellie, but he is fond of you,” he winked at me and then sauntered away, devouring the rest of the muffin.

I sighed and went to get another muffin, before rushing back to my desk. As I was walking, I overheard Azriel and Cassian whispering to each other.

“I see it now,” Cassian said to him.

Azriel didn’t respond right away, but then warned him, “Back off and don’t piss on my territory.”

Cassian laughed, “Wouldn’t dream of it. Seems like you fully staked your claim.”

I didn’t know what they were talking about, but that’s how I met Cassian.

“I’ll take this one,” he said again.

I whipped around and shouted, “Cassian, that’s mine! I saw it first!!!”

And then I was frozen in place by a pair of hazel eyes.

Azriel Singer stood right in front of me, so close that I figured that he was able to put his chin on my head if he wanted to. 

His expression was bland, but I could see the vein bulging and ticking in his temple. Slowly, he crossed his arms on his chest and glared at me from his height.

“Expecting Cassian, are you?” he asked slowly.

My cheeks flamed and I took a steadying breath.

Why was Azriel here???

It made no sense for him to be here. We were in Wicker Park, and surely he didn’t live anywhere near here. Not with his money and status. Surely he lived in River North? Lincoln Park? He was too young for the Gold Coast, but Wicker Park? There was no logical explanation for his presence here. 

“Waiting for Cassian?” he repeated, his voice cold.

“Why are you here?!” I cried out instead. 

He stepped even closer, and suddenly got in my face, all but snarling,

“I swear to god, Elain, if you are fucking my brother behind my back, I will,”

He didn’t finish his threat, because the seller stepped forward and exclaimed, “whoa, whoa, buddy! Chill!”

Then he looked at me and asked, “Miss, is he bothering you? You want me to,”

“Am I bothering you, Elain?” Azriel asked sarcastically. “Do you need to be rescued? The gentleman here is ready to spring up and fight for your honour,”

The venomous expression on his face took me aback. His vein kept bulging, though he appeared normal outwardly.

“No,” I stammered, and looked at the seller, “he is…he is okay. He is my boss…”

“Your boss?!” the man scoffed. “Maybe you should look for another job.”

Azriel shrugged, and then said calmly,

“I’ll be on my way. Let me get the tree and I’ll leave you to meet Cass.”

“No!” she snapped. “NO!”

Azriel seemed confused for a moment and looked at me quizzically.

I clarified, “it’s my tree! I found it first. You aren’t getting it.”

He huffed an incredulous snicker.

“Excuse me? I am taking the tree,” he insisted. “You can get that one,” and he waved towards a bunch of ugly trees stuck in the corner. “I am not getting another tree. Go away, Azriel,” I dared to say, tears pricking my eyes. 

I know it was absurd. I know that I was acting petulant and ridiculous. But I wanted that tree. It wasn’t fair that he could just sweep in and take it. He already demanded and took too much from me. And I wanted the tree. I wasn’t going to let him have it. 

“Go away?” he repeated, eyes popping open wide.

I propped my hands on my hips and resorted to a fighting stance.

“Yes, go away. You are not my boss here.”

“I am always your boss,” he argued snappily.

“No, you aren’t! I am not working right now and I am going to buy this specific tree. You can step aside and leave me alone.”

“I am not leaving, Elain. And I am getting the tree,” he pressed. 

I was shaking my head. 

“No. You're not my boss out there and you can’t have it. I was here first!”

Before the seller could interfere again, Azriel wrapped his massive hand over my upper arm and carefully, but firmly pulled me aside. 

“Don’t sell that fucking tree to anyone,” he ordered the man, and the guy just stared, but didn’t say anything.

I’ve never heard Azriel curse before. He was always highly, scrupulously professional at work. Was it something that I unexpectedly liked? Perhaps.

Once we were out of the way, Azriel didn’t release my arm, but I felt his thumb making small circles over it through my jacket sleeve. He was very close and his crisp scent invaded my nostrils. His eyes assessed me, but they weren’t cold and disdainful right now. There was warmth in them. Amusement too. And I couldn’t think of why that was. 

“I think that we need to reevaluate your attitude, Miss Archeron,” he semi-whispered in my ear. His lips were so close, they were almost touching me.

“What?” I stuttered, not sure what he meant and feeling overwhelmed by his nearness. He was too close. Like last Christmas party. Which I preferred not to recall or think about. 

“What do you mean?” I finally managed to ask.

“It means that you will respect me always, at work and outside of work. At work, I am your boss and out here, that doesn’t change. Just like I will respect you always, regardless of your… imperfections.”

Imperfections? Screw him.

I tried to jerk my arm out of his grasp, but it was like an iron claw around my sleeve.

“Furthermore,” he continued, ignoring my movements, “please do remember that I am the one who makes all the decisions. You follow my guidance. Because I know what’s good for both of us.”

“No you don’t!” I argued instinctively.

“Oh no?” he challenged. “Who’s been helping you with everything at work? Guiding your career? Offering you advice? At times protecting you from mistakes and scrutiny? Yeah, me,” he snapped. “Not that you’d noticed!”

I blushed.

He wasn’t wrong.

He has been incredibly helpful and patient with me, even when he was harsh and demanding. 

“Not that you’d ask me for help,” he ground out under his breath.

Defensively, I argued, “I asked you many times! All the time!”

He scoffed, 

“Yeah, only when there is no one else left to ask!”

The back and forth was exhausting me.

I was tired and he still hadn’t explained what he was doing here. 

“I need to get the tree and go home,” I told him at once.

His grip on me finally eased up a bit and he said thoughtfully,

“Hmmm,”

“Not hmmm,” I taunted. “Let me go. I will see you on Monday.”

“No.”

“No?” I repeated. “What do you mean, no?”

“No means that I have something else in mind,” he offered. “And I suggest that you take me up on my generous offer to you.”

I was feeling a bit hysterical and laughed, my voice dry,

“Oh, how gracious of you. And what is this offer that I cannot refuse? Pray tell!”

“I’ll let you have that tree,” he pointed at my perfect tree. 

“Let me?”

“Stop interrupting me every sentence!” he didn’t look amused. “Yes, I will even help you hoist it up on the roof of your car. Then, we’ll go to your house, you will be a gracious hostess, we’ll have dinner and we’ll decorate the tree together.

“That’s the only offer you are getting. If you reject it, you aren’t getting the tree. Your choice.”

What the hell?

What. Is. The. Actual. Fuck??

He was inviting himself to my home? Or, more like, forcing himself, and ordering me to cook him dinner and decorate my tree, with him there?

“We can’t do that!” I cried out.

“Why?”

“Because…because…We can’t! You are my boss,”

“Glad to see you remembered, finally,” he snorted a chuckle.

“You can’t be at my home. People will talk!”

Not to mention that I didn’t want him there.

I didn’t want him inside my sanctuary. The only place that was actually free of him. My god. This was the worst idea in history!

“Take it or leave it,” he shrugged callously.

I attempted to dissuade him again, “Azriel, I cannot let you–it’s improper,”

“Is it? I was in your apartment last year,” he reminded me and my heart jumped in my chest. “And somehow, we managed.”

He tapped his feet on the pavement and said,

“Let’s go. I am freezing.”

“You said that I get to decide,” I tried feebly.

“I did. And you decided that I will be coming along and we’ll be decorating your tree together. Come on.”

He extended his hand to me.

I just stood there, trembling.

“Usually someone drives me to and from school,” Elain turned to him with a smile. “Someone being you.”

Hazel eyes met hers over the brim of a fraying book. 

“Sorry my car broke down.” Azriel said, almost playfully. Well, Elain could recognize the playfulness in his voice. Anyone else would have heard a droll deliverance. 

“‘Broke down’ seems excessive,” Elain turned towards him, her hands pressed between her cheek and the cloth seat in a praying gesture. “You need a new battery and the shop is closed.”

“The perils of traveling on Christmas Eve.” Azriel said, and though the book was covering half of his face, Elain knew he was smiling. 

She looked around the carriage of the train, over the empty seats, and silently wondered if they always ran the train with next to no one on it. A few passengers rose in other carts, but Elain was grateful for the privacy. Somehow they had managed to hop on the train all of three minutes before it left — the bus that they tried left five minutes early, and the car rental place was completely sold out. 

“I think you did it on purpose,” Elain yawned, her eyelids suddenly feeling heavy. It must have been the excitement and anxiety of this morning getting to her — all the last minute changes, and it wasn’t until her butt sat firmly in her train seat that she felt exhausted. It all crashed into her at once. “So you could see more of my ugly face.” 

An ugly sound caught in Azriel’s throat, and she saw the corner of his eyes crease as he smiled. 

“Of all the words I would use to describe you, sweetheart, ugly isn’t one of them.” 

She smiled softly at that, and then they weren’t talking. She became startlingly aware of the fact that they were just looking into each other’s eyes and the weight of his gaze became the center of her universe.  

With flushing cheeks she blurted out, “Read to me?” 

“Marley was dead to begin with…”

Elain shut her eyes and hunkered down in her seat, listening to his deep, dark, relaxing voice. She focused more on the luxurious sound of his voice than the actual content of what he was saying, but she had read the tale multiple times and saw enough movies to be able to follow along, a picture forming in her mind as she felt lighter and drifted off. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Elain awoke when she felt as if she was no longer in motion. Her neck was bent at an awkward angle, and somehow her cheek no longer pressed against her hands, but had migrated to Azriel’s chest. One arm smooshed between her side and the seat while her other arm came up and clutched Azriel’s shoulder. Her sleeping form clinging to his strength and warmth.

The book was laid open on his chest, and Elain gazed up at him to find that he had fallen asleep as well — one hand resting on his stomach to keep the book in place, and the other stretched over her seat, allowing her to snuggle and burrow into his side. 

He looked devastatingly handsome. 

His black hair curled out from under his navy knit cap on his thick locks, and she could see a few freckles on his brown skin — Elain wanted to touch each and everyone of them, to map them out as if they were her own constellations. Soft snores passed through his parted lips, and it somehow endeared him more towards her. Which she didn’t think was possible. 

With more strength than she had, Elain turned her head away from him and looked out the window. The entirety of the glass was frosted over and Elain nearly had to shield her eyes from the blinding snow swirling around outside. She quickly looked away, but after growing up in New England she only needed two seconds to register what the whiteout meant. 

A blizzard. 

Begrudgingly, Elain pushed herself away from Azriel, leaving her hand on his shoulder to gently shake him awake. 

She watched as his eyes blinked awake, slowly gaining consciousness. 

“Are we there?” Azriel asked, his voice heavy with sleep. 

Elain shook her head in response. 

“I don’t think so,” Elain started, ignoring the way his arm fell so that it no longer rested on her seat but rather on her back. “There’s a blizzard.”

His eyes fluttered behind her to look at the window and then drifted back to her face, understanding dawning in his expression. 

“I fell asleep.” Azriel stated, slight disbelief coloring his voice. Elain bit her lip and nodded her head — Azriel was notorious for his insomnia. Whenever she couldn’t sleep Elain would find herself scrolling through tumblr or Instagram, and Azriel was always on. She’d wake and find messages from him timestamped 3:00, 4:00, or 5:00 am…and whenever she and her sisters would spend the night at the place Az shared with his brothers, she would always wake to hear him quietly playing videos. Sometimes she would go and join him, either having him show her how to play, or if she was too tired she would just sit by him to keep him company. 

“Well, it’s a good thing cause you didn’t sleep much last night.” 

She woke up at seven and saw a text dated three hours before. 

Azriel was in grad school at the same university where Elain was pursuing her bachelors — about seven hours southwest from where their family lived. It was only Elain’s second year, but she loved traveling with Azriel to and from campus. She always had a small, school-girl crush on her sister’s boyfriend's brother, but somehow she had fallen hopelessly in love with him from the passenger side of his car. He was kind…funny…attentive…and there was nothing she could have done to stop the casual affection she felt for Azriel from blossoming into something beautiful. 

And Azriel…Elain thought he felt something similar. When she first started college, he went out of his way to make her comfortable, and he was her only friend until she met Nuala and Cerridwen. But he went on dates and had casual hook ups — on more than one occasion she went to his apartment early enough to see half-dressed girls try to sneak out. Elain would simply paint on a fake smile and avert her eyes, not saying anything to Azriel when she saw him…but his dates and hook ups became few and far between. He spent most of his days texting her, and in all of their free time they would go to the library or their favorite diner — studying together, sharing their favorite meals, or even having Netflix marathons at his apartment. 

Azriel sought her company just as much as she sought his. 

“What are the chances we actually made it to Velaris?” Azriel asked in a gravelly voice, sitting up slightly from his slouched position — his discarded coat halfway off his seat. 

Elain pulled her phone out of her backpack on the ground and checked the time. Somehow only two hours had passed since they left. 

“It’s only 3:00.” Elain showed him her phone. 

“Well, fuck,” Azriel said, rubbing his clean shaven chin. “You should text Feyre, let her know what happened. You know your dad will worry.” 

Elain nodded, sending a quick text to her sister, downplaying what happened to make it seem as if her and Azriel weren’t somehow stranded in the middle of a blizzard — even if they were stranded in the middle of a blizzard. 

“My dad likes you,” Elain said softly, her eyes not looking up from her screen. “I have no service. You?”

Azriel jostled in his seat to pull his phone out of his back pocket, tapped the screen, and shook his head. 

His eyes met hers and a sarcastic look took over his expression as he said, “Your dad hates me.” 

There was one time last winter break where Azriel came over to her house and they watched all the Christmas episodes of The Office in her room — the rest of their family went bar-hopping and Azriel stayed home with her — and they both fell asleep on her bed. Fully clothed. On top of the covers. Somehow in the middle of the night she had ended up in Azriel’s arms. And when her father knocked on her door the next evening he wasn’t thrilled to see her and Azriel sleeping next to each other. Ever since then her father would make off handed remarks about their relationship and would give Azriel the stink eye whenever he saw him — Even if they were huddled over her phone or sitting too close together her dad would yell, “Save room for the Holy Spirit!” which would cause Elain to turn bright red and roll her eyes. 

“That’s not true.” Elain said, tucking her phone back into her backpack. 

“He certainly doesn’t want me dating you.” Azriel raised a dark eyebrow at her and adjusted his beanie. 

A flushed ran through her cheeks as she mumbled, “He doesn’t want me dating anyone. It’s nothing against you in particular. He just knows that we spend so much time together.”

“And you told him you spent the night in my bed.” Azriel groaned and rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye. 

Elain cringed at the memory. For some reason she thought it would placate her father to know that it was a common occurrence — she would go over to his place and accidentally fall asleep while watching tv. Nothing ever happened, but her fathers face turned red with anger before pointing to her doorway and saying “Out.” between clenched teeth. Azriel tried to apologize, but her father wouldn’t let him, so Azriel left and sent her a sad look over his shoulder. 

“I thought it would make it better. Give him a better understanding of our friendship.” Elain explained, crossing her arms across her chest as she leaned back into her seat. 

His eyes fell to her chest, not in a sexual way, but to take note of the sweatshirt she was wearing. His sweatshirt that she had stolen months ago. 

“No one understands our friendship.” Azriel stated, mimicking her posture and crossing his arms, but he did it with arrogance. As if he has somehow checkmated her in this conversation. 

He was correct. 

There were whispers around campus that they were friends with benefits — Even though Elain liked to stick to herself, she had the twins and Azriel and it was enough. Too many bad friends burned her in high school that she learned the value of just having a few good friends. Most people weren’t even interested in her, they just wanted to know the girl who got Azriel to stop sleeping around. For the most part, they just ignored the whispers. 

There was, however, one person that really didn’t love or understand their relationship. Rhysand. Azriel’s closest friend. 

Rhys shrugged off the entire incident of Azriel spending the night in her room. At that point, Elain was still basically his little sister and Azriel was his brother, and as far as Rhys knew Azriel was still fucking around on campus and wouldn’t look twice at her. However, two days later he held a party at his house, where Elain could drink with her entire family and not have to worry about anything, and somehow she ended up on Azriel’s lap. They were both drunk. One of Azriel’s hands on her bare thigh, her skirt was bunched and hiked up higher than she would have liked if she was sober, and his other hand was on her knee — holding her close to his chest so she wouldn’t slip off. Elain was playfully adjusting the Santa Cap on his head, her fingers touching his hair a little more than was necessary, but Azriel let her. He just smiled up at her. And there was a teeny, tiny part of Elain that was hoping he would kiss her. 

He didn’t. 

Feyre came over and kindly pulled Elain off of his lap, offering to dance with her and Elain eagerly agreed. 

Elain had no idea anything was even wrong. It wasn’t until later when she heard Rhys and Azriel arguing upstairs on her way to the bathroom that she realized there was an issue. 

“She’s 18!” Rhys whispered angrily. “You’re 23!”

“You didn’t have a problem with that a few months ago, when you kept pushing me to hang out with her.” Azriel replied in an icy voice. One that Elain almost never heard. 

“To be her friend! To make her feel comfortable and help her settle in! Not to drool over her tits while she’s giving you a lap dance,” Elain looked down at her chest from the opposite side of the door.  “Not to make her fall in love with you.” 

“We are friends.” Azriel responded glibly. 

“A friend you don’t want to fuck?”

Silence. 

“Don’t you fucking hurt her,” Rhys started, and for some reason Elain thought he was probably poking Azriel in the chest. “I know how you are, Az, you’ve never been with someone longer than a week. You get bored and you leave them. Fucking A — that girl looks at you with fucking stars in her eyes. She obviously likes you. Just be her friend. And keep your dick to yourself.” 

Elain quickly scampered to the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and ran her hands under cold water, wanting to cool herself off as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. And when she went back downstairs Azriel was standing next to Cassian — who was playing against Nesta at beer pong — and Az intentionally didn’t meet her gaze as she reached the bottom of the steps. So, she walked over to the makeshift dance floor with Feyre and Mor. Thankful they never noticed the confusion hidden behind her smile. 

Neither of them spoke for a few moments and then the blurry, distorted voice of the conductor came from the overheard speaker. 

Elain and Azriel looked at each other, silently imploring whether or not they could hear what the conductor was saying. 

They couldn’t. 

It wasn’t until one of the workers walked into their car a few moments later that they realized they had managed to dock at a small station, but the tracks were completely snowed over ahead of them and there was no way for them to be going anywhere. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The small diner located just down the street from the train station was cozy, to say the least. 

Small with a few locals sitting in the booths, and as soon the bell jangled to alert the patrons of their arrival, Elain felt all eyes land on her and Azriel. 

It was the type of place where people recognized a new face. 

Elain smiled politely and quickly sat in the booth toward the end of the restaurant, where there was enough room for Azriel to lay down their bags without being in the way. 

She expected him to sit on the opposite side of the table, but he surprised her by scooting into the booth next to her — his thigh pressed against hers as he leaned his head close to hers. 

“What are the chances we get out of this town tonight?” Azriel asked, his voice low and close to her ear. 

Elain forced herself to turn her head and look out the window, taking great effort to appear unaffected by his closeness, and saw the white flurries falling down and obscuring the entire view. Nothing but a veil of white. 

“I’m thinking it’s pretty low,” Elain said, turning back to him. “The roads aren’t even plowed yet.” 

Azriel nodded his head. 

“Looks like you’ll be spending Christmas Eve with me,” Azriel said, nudging his shoulder into hers. “Hope you aren’t disappointed.”

“Never,” Elain smiled, suddenly feeling shy. “You don’t have anyone back home waiting for you? Heartbroken that you aren’t showing up?”

Elain meant the words as a joke, but as soon as the words left her mouth it felt as if the entire world was resting on a pin. Ready to topple with what he said next. 

“No,” Azriel said, his eyes darkening. He brought one hand up to rest behind her shoulders, on the back of the booth. Just like how he sat in the train. “I don’t have anyone pining over me.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Elain asked, leaning into his side. 

Azriel tucked one of her curls behind her ear. He opened his mouth to respond, but the waitress sidled up to their table and handed them the menus. 

“Can I get you lovebirds anything to drink?” She asked, smiling at them. Elain could see the fine lines in her face made from smiling over the years. Her dark curls were piled on top of her head and her name tag read ‘Alis’. 

“Two hot coffees with cream, no sugar.” Azriel said, giving Alis a polite smile. 

“Do you know what you want? Or do you want to look at the menu?” Alis asked. 

Azriel turned to Elain, not even opening the menu before saying, “Waffles and bacon?” 

Elain nodded her head upon hearing her favorite breakfast. Not the healthiest. Or one she had very often. But her favorite. 

Elain tapped her finger on her nose three times, thinking. And as she spoke her finger slowly turned and pointed at his amused expression. 

“Denver omelet,” Elain said thoughtfully. “Rye toast, hash browns, aaaaaaand,” She drew out the last word, thinking about what Az would like to complete his meal. “A side of fruit.” 

“Perfect.” Azriel said with a grin that showed off his dimples and handed the unopened menus back to Alis. 

“You two are sweet,” Alis said, tucking the menus under her arm. “How long have you been together?” 

Elain felt her cheeks blush at the words, but Azriel didn’t miss a beat. 

“About a year now.” 

His arm dropped down from the seat and settled around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. For the second time today. 

His hand curled around her shoulder. 

“But we’ve known each other for years.” Elain added, and Azriel looked at her in surprise as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Underneath his coat. 

“Awww, childhood sweethearts,” Alis said with affection. “I’ll put your order in.” 

She walked away, but neither Azriel or Elain moved. They didn’t shift or pull away. 

They leaned closer together. 

“This isn’t a horrible place to be.” Elain admitted, slightly nuzzling closer to him. 

“Even on Christmas Eve?”

“Especially on Christmas Eve.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After their meal Elain and Azriel finally decided to check their phones and see if their service finally returned — they both hid their disappointment as they saw the full signal bars on their screens. 

“I’ll call hotels and you call Feyre?” Azriel suggested and Elain nodded along, looking at all the unread messages on her phone. Sighing, she called her sister. 

“Elain?” Feyre answered, worried. “Are you ok?”

“We're fine,” Elain reassured her sister, watching Az dial from the corner of her eye. “We just finished lunch, but I don’t think we can make it home tonight — Our train stopped at the first station it could. We only rode for about two hours.”

“Where are you?”

“My phone said Winter Court — wherever that is,” Elain replied, noting how Azriel hung up the phone to call someone else. “Are you guys still doing cookies tonight?” 

“Yes,” Feyre said, and Elain could hear the shuffling cookware over the phone and multiple people speaking at once. “Though, I’m sure they’ll be burned without you.” 

Azriel sighed, hung up, and called someone new. 

“They’ll be delicious,” Elain said with a soft smile. She was about to remind her sister to set the oven five degrees less than what the recipe recommends, but she heard her fathers voice on the other end. 

“Is that Lainy?”

“Yeah, papa.”

“Let me talk to her,” Static shuffled through the phone, and like clockwork Azriel called someone new. “Are you being safe, sweetheart?” Her fathers voice became crystal clear and for the first time she felt a pang of homesickness. 

“Of course, papa,” Elain said. “But we’re not gonna make it home tonight. Az is calling hotels to book a room for us. I miss you guys.” 

A beat of silence. 

Azriel hung up his phone, but didn’t call anyone else.  

“A room?”

Her eyes met Azriels, and he must have heard her father because he nodded in confirmation. 

“Is was all they had?” Elain meant to say with confidence, but her voice lilted into a question. 

Azriel nodded in confirmation even though his lips curled into a smile as he mouthed, 

“Honeymoon Suite.”

She blushed. 

“Hopefully it has a couch for the boy.” Her father grumbled. 

Before Elain could stop herself she said, “I’m not going to make Azriel sleep on the couch, dad.” 

Azriel raised a dark brow at her. 

“Let me speak to him.” Her father said with a sigh. 

Elain held the phone out to Az, their fingers touching as he took it from her. 

The bastard turned the volume down so she couldn’t hear what her father was saying. 

“Mmmhm,” Azriel’s eyes never left hers. “Don’t worry sir, I’ll protect her,” His hazel eyes darkened. “Mmhhmm. Goodbye.” 

Azriel handed her phone back to her and said, “He hung up.” 

“Honeymoon Suite?” Elain asked, pocketing the phone. 

“This town has a surprising amount of hotels and motels and somehow they’re all booked. Apparently, this is a really popular Christmas destination for tourism, and hotels get booked years in advance. Somehow I found this small B&B and the only room they had was the honeymoon suite on a special reserve. If anyone asks, we eloped at the courthouse on a whim and haven’t had time to buy rings yet,” At her silence he continued. “I’m thinking we take a cue from Alis. Childhood sweethearts?”

“Az?”

“Yes?” 

“We’ve been good friends for over a year now, yes? And we’ve known each other for a while — but I’ve never heard you talk for so long.”

A face-splitting grin stretched across his lips. 

“Maybe I talk when I get nervous.” Azriel said, his cheeks pinkening. 

“You’re nervous?” Elain asked softly, her heart speeding. 

“It’s not every day that I propose.”

Her stomach felt hollow. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, this is the best proposal I’ve ever received.”

Their bodies were still pressed together, so Elain could feel him tense just a bit. 

“I’m not your first?”

“Lucien Vanserra in the fourth grade and then again in eighth.” Elain explained and watched as 

Azriel’s expression became carefully guarded. 

“The prick in your American Lit class?”

“He’s not that bad, and he was very gracious considering the fact I shot down his proposal twice.”

His jaw worked. 

“And what about mine?” 

Elain leaned forward and adjusted his knit cap, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. 

“How would you like to be my first husband, Az?” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Their B&B was a fifteen minute walk from the diner, but it took them almost 40 minutes since they couldn’t see more than a foot in front of them. 

Azriel held Elain’s hand tightly as they wadded through the snow — neither of them in the proper footwear. At one point Azriel’s beanie almost blew off and Elain practically had to jump on top of him to keep it from flying away. 

Their coats were wet and heavy by the time they arrived, and as soon as they stepped through the door they dropped their duffle bags on the ground and Azriel immediately wrapped his arms around Elain. Her wet hair in his face. His hands aggressively rubbing her arms over her wool coat. 

“You must be the newly weds!” A friendly voice called over to them and Elain heard the clicking of heels over the wooden floor. 

Elain poked her head out from Azriel's chest and saw a stunningly beautiful blonde — eyes a bright blue and hair almost white as snow and creamy, bright skin. 

“That’s us.” Azriel said in an even voice, one that made it seem like they just took a stroll on a lovely fall day and not through a blizzard mars. 

“I’m Viviane,” She introduced herself and held out her hand. Elain stayed wrapped around Azriel for warmth, but he managed to find enough manners in her to shake her hand. “My husband and I own this place. I’ll get you checked in and have someone show you to your room.”  

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You can shower first.” Azriel said as soon as they stepped into their room.  

Elain toed off her boots and walked across the hardwood floor to place her duffel bag at the base of the bed. 

“Are you sure?” Elain asked, ignoring how her teeth harshly chattered together. 

“Lainy,” Azriel said, his feet silently padding across the floor as he came up behind her. “You’re a human popsicle. I’m pretty sure you’re so cold that my tongue would stick to you if I licked you,” He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her so that she would face him. Her white socks twisting beneath her feet. “Go take a hot shower.”

Her wide eyes met his. 

“Do you plan on licking me?” Elain asked, slightly breathless and a flash of heat swept through his hazel eyes. He didn’t say anything. “There’s a rumor I’ve heard about you on campus.” Her tongue came out to wet her lips. 

“And what’s that?” Azriel challenged. His voice was rough and Elain could vaguely feel his fingers tightening on her shoulders. 

“That you like…”

“That I like…?”

“That you like using your tongue.” Elain rushed out and her face was so hot she thought that her skin would start to peel off. Her cheeks were at odds with the rest of her body. 

“Yes, I like using my tongue,” Azriel said as he narrowed his eyes. One of his hands fell away from her shoulder and he brought it up to rub at his lips. “I need it for speaking. For eating. I find my life would be quite difficult without it.”

It was Elain’s turn to narrow her eyes. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Azriel tilted his face down to hers. 

“Say what you mean, Elain.”

“I heard around campus, from a few girls,” Elain started and she fought the urge to turn and climb under the covers to find her flushing face, but she wanted to finish what she started. “That you like to go down on them. With your tongue. In their vaginas.” 

Elain puffed out her chest a bit like she won some sort of battle. 

“I do.” 

Her chest faltered. 

“Oh.”

 Elain scrambled for something to say — for some reason she never thought he would actually admit it. And she couldn’t stop the onslaught of images that cascaded through her brain, of all the girls that taunted her about it. She could picture them with Azriel's dark head between their thighs. 

“I like giving blow jobs,” Elain admitted, her voice deceptively innocent. His face didn’t change. He didn’t so much as blink at her words. “If you were curious.” 

“I wasn’t,” Azriel said blandly, his voice carefully even toned. “Take your damn shower Elain.” 

She scampered to the bathroom without looking back. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Azriel wanted to hit someone. 

Mainly himself. 

“I like giving blow jobs,”

And whoever the fuck Elain was giving blowjobs to. 

He shucked off his soaked coat and sunk into a froofy chair by the window as the shower turned on. 

His scarred hands came up to grip his hair as he tired hard not to picture Elain’s naked body glistening with water as she showered, and he tried fucking hard not picture her blowing her exboyfriends. None of them fucking deserve it. They didn’t deserve her. 

Maybe he wanted to hit Rhys. 

For getting in the way last year. 

If Azriel thought hard enough, then he could still feel her plush thigh beneath his palm. Her fingers gently tugging at his hair. He could remember the feel of her on his lap, and how his eyes kept drifting from her lips to her flushed cheeks to the ample cleavage on display — and he kept fighting the little urge to kiss her. It wasn’t even an urge. It was a beck and call. 

Elain was the type of girl he could kiss forever and never get bored. She was soft. Luscious. He could hold her in his arms and kiss her until he was blue in the face — his hands lazily exploring her body as their lips moved together. Slowly. Gently. Playfully. 

There were a few times before she plunked herself down on his lap last year that he thought about kissing her. Her lips pursed whenever she was concentrating really hard ( her nose scrunched as well, but that’s besides the point) and he recalled one night they were studying late in the library when he thought that kissing would be a much better use of their time. 

And when she would bake for him. Sometimes a little frosting would linger on her mouth, and Azriel wondered if it would be sweeter on her lips than out of the bowl. 

Elain had the perfect fucking lips for kissing. 

And blowing. 

Apparently. 

“I like giving blow jobs,”

Azriel wasn’t stupid. Or blind. 

He’s always known Elain was incredibly beautiful — it was a fact. Saying Elain is beautiful was like saying Cassian is incredibly fit. Or that Rhysand is smart. It just is. 

He knew that Rhysand didn’t push Elain at him just to help her settle in on campus, but the more time Elain spent with Azriel, then the less time horny frat boys and jocks would be sniffing around her. Azriel was aware of his reputation, and he didn’t care that Rhys wanted to use it to protect Elain. Hell, Azriel even agreed with it. And he liked Elain. So he went along with it. 

But he didn’t realize just how much he fucking liked Elain. 

He found himself seeking her out. Calling her. Texting her. He would send her all the tiktoks that he thought she would like, or even just a random one with his thoughts like, “This is fucking weird.” He didn’t realize how much he craved her until he was in bed with some blonde, and after they were finished fucking Azriel immediately checked his phone and smiled when he saw the notifications from Elain. The blonde girl he was with wanted to talk. Or cuddle or something. And he cared more about replying to Elain’s  tiktok messages than he did about going for round two. Eventually, he started thinking about Elain as he was fucking some random girl and he couldn’t wash away the oily feeling that lingered for days afterward. 

Azriel sighed deeply as he sank further into the chair, the heels of his palms rubbing his eyes as he tried to ignore the images of a wet, showering Elain that were pilfering through his mind – her pale skin glistening and beads of water dripped down her curves, lathered soap slipping down her back—

His cock hardened at the image, and Azriel shifted himself in his jeans. 

The squeaking sound of Elain turning the knob of the shower off rankled his nerves. 

“Az?” Elain called out, and Azriel lifted his eyes to peek at the bathroom door that was cracked open ever so slightly, steam floated out like shadows from behind her. 

“Yes?”

A beat of silence. 

“I forgot my clothes.” Elain said hesitantly. 

Azriel felt his skin flush and overheat, but he pushed himself up and walked over to where he plunked their luggage down. 

“Do you want your entire bag?” He asked in an even voice, his eyes dropped to her lips as she took her bottom one between her teeth. 

“Just my toiletry bag and pajamas, please.” Elain said in a high voice. And Azriel nodded, slowly unzipping her bag and carefully moved her clothes out of the way to fund her pjs. 

“You didn’t pack any.” Azriel called out, forcing a teasing tone to his voice as he ignored the scraps of lace panties that kept jumping out at him. 

“Yes I did,” Elain responded, huffing in slight annoyance. “Those plaid shorts,” Azriel had thought they were underwear, but grabbed them at her words. “And your old AC/DC shirt.” Azriel’s fought from grinding his teeth together — he knew Elain stole his clothes, knew that she slept and lounged in them, but knowing that he packed his old tshirt and was going to sleep beside him in it made his skin flame. 

Azriel carefully grabbed the first underwear he could find and placed it between her pajamas so that they weren’t on display. He placed her clothes underneath her toiletry bag, and tried not to stare down at her damp cleavage as he handed them to her. 

A tiny white towel was wrapped around her body, and Azriel knew that with one tug the knot would be undone and the towel would be on the floor. 

“Thanks.” Elain breathed, opening the door to accept the pile Azriel stuck out for her. 

“Need anything else?” Azriel asked, his voice unnecessarily husky. 

Her cheeks turned pink, but she shook her head and said, “No, thank you,” and closed the door. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Her damp feet pattered over the wood floors, her body still damp and humid from her shower, and sunk onto the bed, her eyes trained on Azriel who looked at her from the overly stuffed chair by the window. She still couldn’t see past the snow coming down outside. 

“What now?” Elain asked, tucking her feet underneath herself. 

“Well,” Azriel teased. “By the looks of it, you’re ready for bed.” 

Elain rolled her eyes. 

“I think that after your shower,” She smiled at him. “You should start reading to me again since this place doesn’t have a television, and then we order down for room service for dinner.” 

“Hungry already?” Azriel asked, his eyebrow tilting upwards. 

“No,” She said firmly “But I will be. Eventually. And I bet they have amazing desserts here.” Elain smiled at her, knowing his weakness for sweets. 

Azriel didn’t bother to hide the smile playing on his mouth and pushed himself to his feet. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Somehow they ended up under the covers. Elain’s soft body pressed into his warm one as they were both sitting propped up against the headboard, pillows cushioning their backs, and the soft glow of the lamp illuminating the room, along with the moonlight reflecting off of the white snow outside their window. 

Azriel’s dark, silky voice carried through the quiet of the night. 

He didn’t even startle when her cold feet tucked into his for warmth. Azriel just shifted so that they were more comfortable. 

“...During the whole of this time Scrooge had acted like a man out of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his former self…” Azriel wet his lips and shut the book, causing Elain to furrow her brow and raise her eyes at him.

“What is it?” Elain asked. 

“Silly as it may be,” Azriel started. “After a few hours of reading I need some water.” 

Elain felt her eyes widen at his words and said, “Hours?” in disbelief. She pulled herself away from his warmth and checked her phone, ignoring the messages from her family and focusing on the fact that it was closing in on eight. Well past dinner time. 

“You must be starving,” Elain said, crawling closer to him with her phone still tucked into her hand. “Should we call down for dinner?” 

Azriel nodded in agreement, and leaned over to grab the antique phone from the nightstand next to him. 

“Think this works?” Azriel asked, eyeing the delicate brass machine. 

“For sure,” Elain nodded. “It was probably just made to fit the aesthetic of the place,” She snuggled into his side. “Order me something good.” 

Azriel dialed one, and Elain could hear a feminine voice answering his call. 

Her mouth watered as Azriel ordered two pot roast dinners, a bottle of wine, bread, chocolate cake, and, most importantly, water. 

“I think you’re officially the best orderer,” Elain said, slinking into his side as he took up his initial position, his arm coming out to wrap around her as he picked up the book. “Let me,” She took it from between his fingers. “Until the water comes.” 

It only took 30 minutes until a knock interrupted them. 

“Already?” Elain asked, setting the book down. Azriel smirked at her before getting up and walking towards the door. Elain found herself sinking into the warmth he left behind on the sheets. 

The door was out of her line of sight, but Elain heard Azriel open the door and the brief conversation he had with the woman who brought their food for them — the oddly long conversation that didn’t seem to have an end in sight. 

Elain pushed herself out of the bed, the chilled air nipping at her toasty skin, and walked over to the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. 

 Azriel was standing at the door, incredibly still in a way that told Elain he was hiding his annoyance, and out in the hallway was a redhead holding their service cart in a deathgrip. 

“Is this everything?” Elain asked, sliding up next to Azriel and threading her fingers through his. Azriel relaxed at her touch. 

The girl’s teal eyes flashed towards Elain and said, “Hello,” with a strained smile. 

“My husband and I are … eager … to continue our night,” Elain said in a too kind voice. “So, I was wondering if this was everything?” 

Azriel’s body vibrated with suppressed humor. 

“This is everything,” The girl said, pushing the cart to them. They’d have to take her word for it, considering everything was covered in silver domes, but Elain wasn’t going to reach out if anything was forgotten - she didn’t want any more interruptions. She just wanted time with Azriel completely uninterrupted. Luckily, she could see the bottle of wine and water on the bottom shelf of the cart. “Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else.” 

“Thank you.” Elain said as Azriel pushed the cart further into the room, and shut the door after bidding the girl farewell. 

The savory smell of the potroast was mouthwatering, but Elain couldn’t shake the irked feeling of the redhead so obviously lusting after Azriel — and they were in the honeymoon suite. 

Elain grumbled as she lifted the silver covers and took in the food. Everything appeared to be in place, and Azriel looked down at her in amusement as she inspected their dinner. 

“Everything to your satisfaction?” He asked and Elain felt her cheeks flush at the way he looked at her, knowingly. 

“Yes, husband.” Elain grumbled and Azriel threw his head back in laughter, her body prickling at the sound. 

His large hands clamped onto her hips and Azriel drew her back into his chest. 

“Jealous?” He asked, his lips absurdly close to her ear. 

“I don’t see why I should be,” Elain said, shifting on her feet. “I know who’ll you’ll be sleeping with tonight.” 

Azriel groaned and buried his head into the crook of her neck. 

“You can’t say things like that, Elain.” He spoke into her neck, and Elain could feel his lips moving against her skin.

“And why’s that?” She asked breathlessly. 

“We’re trapped in the honeymoon suite with spotty cell phone service and a bottle of wine.” Azriel replied. 

“Planning to take advantage of me?” 

His fingers tightened on her hips. 

“I think it’s the other way around,” Azriel muttered, tearing himself away from her body. “Now, do you want to eat in bed, or should we try to be civilized and eat at the table?” His chin nodding in different directions as he spoke.  

“Bed?” Elain asked and watched as Azriel’s eyes darken just a hair.  

It was something that that had done time and time again — having dinner in bed together. Usually while watching television, but the honeymoon suite didn’t have one, and from the second they stepped foot into the room they had an unspoken rule about not touching their phones, so as soon as they crawled back into bed (Azriel wheeled the the cart next to his side of the mattress, so he could serve them as he pleased) their conversation ebbed and flowed so that no tension lingered between them. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Most people would have been surprised at how easily and freely Azriel spoke around Elain. And at that the wicked sense of humor Elain let loose around Azriel, and Azriel only. Every once in a while it would slip out around her sisters or his friends, but most of the time it was just reserved for Azriel. 

A Christmas Carol was tossed onto the nightstand, far away from any damage it could incur from their food and drink, and Elain and Azriel hunkered back into their original positions. Volleying back hypothetical questions and would you rathers. 

“Bullshit!” Elain exclaimed, jerking up right, and narrowing her eyes at Azriel’s amused expression - his eyes gleaming as they crinkled with his hidden laughter. “In no world is Jason Todd a better Robin than Dick Grayson! You’re just saying that to annoy me.” 

“Am I?” Azriel laughed, using his fork to steal a potato from her plate, and he stared at her as he chewed smugly. 

“Yes,” Elain said, shoving at her shoulder. “You know I have a crush on Nightwing.” 

“You don’t have to be so obvious about it.” Azriel said, his dimple indenting his cheek. 

“Not everyone tucks away their feelings like you do.” Elain mumbled, settling back into her position by his side. 

“Is that what I do?” Azriel asked, his eyes bright with a challenge as he looked at her. 

Elain glumly stabbed a carrot and brought it up to her mouth, chewing slowly. 

“You tell me.” 

After a short pause Azriel asked, “Wine?” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Elain said, taking a sip from her second glass of wine. 

“You don’t?” Azriel asked, his eyes intently peering at her face and she carefully avoided his eyes. 

“No, I don’t.” Elain shook her head, careful not to slosh her drink over the edge of the glass. 

“You don’t think it’s any of my business how many of my shirts you steal? Do you have any idea how expensive it is to be your friend? You’re lucky I’m not naked right now.” 

Elain’s eyes flashed to his at his words, her eyes falling to his torso and made the mental note to start taking even more of his clothes. 

“It’s not my fault,” Elain defended herself. “Your clothes are just comfier than mine.” 

“Are they?” Azriel asked, his fingers sliding underneath his shirt that hung off of her frame and over the soft skin of her belly. 

Elain silently nodded her head, her breath caught in her throat. 

“Do you want to know a secret?” Azriel asked, and Elain gave him another slow nod. “I think my shirts look better on you.” He whispered conspiratorially and Elain couldn’t stop the smile taking over her face. 

“Do you want to know a secret?” Elain asked, pushing her face closer to his, and Azriel jerked in head in confirmation. “I get sad when your shirts lose their scent. That’s why I always have to steal more.” 

“You like how I smell?” Azriel asked darkly, pushing their bodies closer together. 

“Mmmmhmm.” Elain confirmed, holding her wineglass close to her chest. 

“I love it when you sleep over,” Azriel admitted, his eyes smoldering. “You make my bed smell like jasmine.” 

Elain took one more sip of her wine before handing him the glass, silently asked him to put it back on the cart, and Azriel took his cue and placed his glass down next to hers. 

“There’s something I’ve been curious about.” Elain admitted quietly as soon as Azriel faced her again. 

“What’s that?” He asked curiously. 

“Ever since I heard those rumors,” Elain wet her dry lips as she forced the words out. “About you being good with your tongue…I’ve been curious.” 

Azriel’s body stilled next to hers. 

“Curious about what, Elain?” 

“About what it’s like - with you. Guys have gone down on me in the past,” Elain shared, her cheeks burning. “But it was always awkward. It felt like a fish was down there.” 

A choking sound ripped through his throat at her words. 

“A fish?” Azriel exclaimed, and Elain shoved at his chest. 

“You can’t make fun of me!” Elain shrieked before hiding underneath the covers. “Just forget I said anything. I want to go to bed.” Her voice was muffled from the layers of blankets and sheets. 

Azriel slowly moved the covers off of her and she looked up at him with wide brown eyes, her face red and flushed, and her golden hair messily tousled over her face and pillow. 

“You want me to go down on you, sweetheart?” Azriel asked softly, and Elain nodded her head. He shifted so that he was caging her in with his arms. “Are you wet for me?” She nodded again slowly. 

Heat gathered in Azriel’s groin at her admission. 

Azriel lifted one hand to slowly tug down her bottoms, so that she was only left in his shirt and her white lace panties. Elain kicked her shorts to the bottom of the bed, silently hoping she didn’t appear too eager. 

His large, warm hands cupped her over the lace and Elain shivered at the groan Azriel let out. His eyes shut as if he was savoring this moment and the feel of her. Elain hips moved against his finger, which was rubbing her through the lace, the tip of his finger almost touching her swollen clit. 

Needy mewling sounds started escaping from Elain’s lips. 

“I can feel how hot and wet your pussy is,” Azriel said, looking at her through half-open, heavy lids. “I bet it tastes fucking delicious.” 

“I-I never get this wet.” Elain said, her cheeks burning. 

Azriel couldn’t stop the male pride that threatened to tear him apart. 

“You only get this wet for me?” Azriel asked, his voice laced with possessiveness and  his fingers working overtime. 

“Yes.” Elain said, feeling her orgasm mounting, and didn’t even try to hide her disappointment as Azriel stopped his movements. 

“Would you rather have my fingers or my mouth?” Azriel asked, his eyes dark. 

“Mouth.” Elain mutters, flushing harder as Azriel pulled away her panties, at the wetness that was coming out of her and clung to the lace.

Azriel tossed the scrap of fabric over his shoulders and moved under the covers, and Elain could feel his humid breath dance across her wet center - could feel the shadow of his mouth against her lips. 

“Wait!” Elain called out, and Azriel immediately popped up, the blankets over his head as he looked at her with a blank, slightly worried expression. 

“Did you change your mind?” He asked evenly, and Elain knew that if she asked, then he would move on and act as if this never happened. 

“No,” Elain shook her head. “I just want to see you. Us. This.” 

Something shuttered over Azriel’s face, but he nodded and the two of them tossed aside the bedding so that Elain had an unobstructed view. 

She leaned back onto her elbow, her chin forward as she looked down. 

Azriel spread her legs wide, his large hands on both of her thighs, as his eyes feasted on her dripping core. 

His eyes met hers from his position between her legs - his eyes gleaming from lust - and he deliberately ran his tongue up her slit. His eyelids nearly shut in pleasure. 

“Ohh.” Elain moaned, her hips arching off the bed, but Azriel kept her in place with his hands. 

His tongue repeated the motion and Elain felt herself panting. 

Her hands snaked into Azriel’s dark curls, pulling slightly, needing something to grab onto. 

Azriel’s eyes darkened at the movement, and coaxed a moan out of Elain and he slowly slid his tongue into her channel. 

“Yes.” Elain sighed, her heart pounding as his tongue thrust in and out of her. “Yes.” 

He groaned against her, sending vibrations through her core and causing Elain’s hips to jerk. 

Azriel pulled back, his lips wet and plump, and brought one hand up to work her with his long fingers. 

“You taste so fucking good.” Azriel said breathlessly before diving back to between her legs. Using both his tongue and fingers to tease her into a frenzy - and eventually Azriel stopped trying to control her hips and let Elain ride his face. Her fingers pushing his face deeper into her pussy. 

“Fuck,” Elain cursed, as Azriel fingers hit the sensitive spot deep within her. “Right there - yes!” She screamed and his fingers fucked her faster. 

Her eyes were clenched as pleasure seeped through her, only to go wide as Azriel took her clit between his lips and sucked hard. 

Her toes curled as she came undone. 

Her body went limp as her breathing turned harsh as the last of her orgasm rushed through her. 

“I - that - thank you, Azriel.” Elain panted, forcing her heavy lids to open as she looked at him. 

Azriel licked his lips and he made his way up the bed. His breathing was heavy and there was a noticeably large tent in his pajama pants.  

“Don’t thank me,” Azriel said as he laid next to her. His hair stuck in every which way thanks to Elain’s fingers, and he wrapped one hand around her body to press them close together. “I enjoyed that way too fucking much.” 

Elain bit down on her lip, her eyes dropping to his pants. 

“May I?” She asked in a soft voice. 

“Only if you want to.” Azriel said, and Elain met his eyes briefly before cupping him through the flannel of his pants. 

He groaned deeply and pressed himself into her hands. 

Elain moved her hand to slide beneath the waistband of his pants and exposed his erection - and nearly came again at the sight of it. Its purple head had a bead of pre-cum seeping out of it and she could see veins extending along the shaft before disappearing underneath the fabric. 

She licked her lips and ran her hand slowly up and down his length. She knew her fingers couldn’t wrap around it even if she tried, so she slowly stroked him. 

Her eyes met his as she worked his erection, and he stared at her so intently, as if he couldn’t believe that Elain’s hands were on him. His breath warmed her face and she could feel his chest moving up and down, but Elain kept her pace steady - squeezing gently every once in a while - but not wanting this moment to end. 

“Do you like this?” Elain asked. 

“Too fucking much,” Azriel said in a heavy voice. “You’re going to ruin me, sweetheart.” 

Elain gasped at his words, her thumb smearing the liquid at the tip of his cock - and that one tiny movement pushed him over the edge. He came, coating her hand as she worked him. 

Spent, Azriel tugged her closer to his side, pulling the discarded blankets over their bodies. 

Elain held her hand out, his orgasm sliding down her skin, and Azriel was about to apologize but stopped as she brought her hand to her mouth and licked. Her pink tongue collecting his seed, and it took everything in Azriel not to take her right there. 

She licked at her hand again, and met his eyes. 

“Next time you’ll come in my mouth.” 

“If you’re not careful,” Azriel said, leaning to grab a napkin from the cart next to the bed and then took her hand to clean it off. “That’s going to be sooner than you think.” 

Elain squirmed next to him. 

He tossed the napkin away and turned back to Elain. 

“That was magical.” She said quietly, almost sheepishly. 

“Better than…fish?” Azriel couldn’t stop himself from asking, and Elain rolled her eyes. 

“Much better,” She said, her face bright red. “I’ve never come like that before.” 

An arrogant smirk appeared on his face and Elain hid her face in his chest. 

“Goodnight.” She murmured, bringing a leg up to wrap around his hips. 

Azriel stretched to turn the lamp off, the glow of moonlight on a bed of snow snuck through the curtains, but he soon found himself back to Elain - his hand resting on her soft thigh. 

“Good night, sweetheart.” He whispered into her hair.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───