#acot

Character, book, and author names under the cut

Read more at AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68315556/chapters/176774641

The smell of incense smoke and dozens of candles permeated the air of the Obsidian Moonlight. The scent of wine and the excitement of males and females assaulted Azriel's nostrils, and he almost turned back, questioning why his wings and feet had led him there. He blended into the darkness the moment he passed through the red velvet curtains of the entrance, sitting at a table so hidden in the back of the hall that it took minutes for a young Fae female to bring a goblet of wine without being asked.

A slow, sensual song filled every corner of the room, while the dancers twirled on the stage up front or circulated the tables to find greedy fingers that tried to touch them. It took Azriel a while to spot Averis in the center of them, a smile at the corner of her lips that didn't illuminate her face at all. It was a rehearsed smile, calculated to seduce nobles, to wrap them around her finger and make the secrets and coins escape easily from their lips and pockets.

Azriel was just one of many who stared at her as if they were bewitched. She wore a short silk dress that hugged her curves, that exposed more and more of her thighs every time she raised her arms above her head or swayed her hips. He felt the covetousness and lust emanating from the clients as if it were physical presences wanting to bring her closer, to take her, to tame her.

But through that smile, Azriel realized that no male would ever be able to do such a thing. That no one would ever possess her, that she would never belong to anyone but herself. And to him... that was more attractive than her stunning beauty.

His body tensed when her eyes found his. Azriel noticed the surprise on her beautiful face, her body stopping its movement for just a second. Averis quickly recovered and went back to dancing, lowering her head and tossing her dark hair up, exposing her collarbone and the generous neckline of her dress. He tried not to explore her body with his stare as everyone else there did, focusing on her face, on her features as she moved.

He saw the exact moment a male grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her close. Azriel rose abruptly, the armchair scraping loudly against the crimson carpet that covered the floor. He saw her expression contort for just a moment before she smiled at the noble who was now whispering something in her ear. Averis took him by the hand and led him through a white silk curtain behind the stage, while Azriel watched the scene with his chest heaving, his breathing fast and wavering, his hand resting on Truth-Teller sheathed at his thigh.

He put himself in motion, following the two out of sheer impulse, bumping into males and females who were pulling dancers into their laps, weaving through sweaty bodies, zigzagging through dark corridors as he finally passed the curtain where Averis had disappeared. He sought her only by the scent of lavender that emanated from her skin and left a delirious trail behind her. He opened curtain after curtain that revealed private dance halls, hypnotizing crimson and cobalt lights outlining the silhouette of dancers and clients, some sitting on the laps of hungry females, others circling a golden pole positioned in the center of the rooms.

Azriel's heart pounded in his chest, an irrational terror gnawing at his insides. He knew Averis was very capable of handling unwanted touches, that this was her job. But that didn't soothe the feeling he couldn't name and that dominated every shallow gulp of air that reached his lungs.

Azriel finally found the room where she was, her hands on the male's chest, making him sit on the corner sofa. A predatory and nauseating smile curved his mouth, his drunken eyes seeming to undress her as she moved away and positioned herself at the pole. He entered the small chamber without thinking, his shadows spreading across the floor, across the walls, like a raging black tide about to destroy everything it touched along the way.

"Get out," Azriel snarled, his voice nothing more than a lethal murmur directed at the noble.

"Who do you think you are?" the male stood up, indignant, ready to attack Azriel before he realized who he was. His eyes widened and he took a step back. "You can't just walk in here and demand such a thing. I paid for this dance and I'm going to get what I bought."

As if Averis were a commodity to satisfy his lustful craving.

"Get out," Azriel repeated, approaching him with a lazy, dangerous, and deadly slowness. "I won't repeat myself."

The male had the decency to shiver, his eyes wide at the threat. Azriel saw in his eyes that he was pondering if Averis was worth the effort of confronting the Spymaster of the Night Court, and wisely decided she was not. Stomping his feet, he left the room.

When he faced Averis, her gaze was one that promised death. Her mouth was a thin line, her eyebrows were furrowed, and her hands were clenched into fists at her sides.

"You just cost me a generous amount of coins," she said through gritted teeth, fury filling every line of her expression.

Azriel almost regretted it. "I can pay double."

That seemed to enrage her even more. "You are not a client," she spat, approaching threateningly like a predator about to finish off her prey. "You are here to spy on me."

He held his ground, trying to relax his shoulders. "Can't I do both?"

Averis studied him for long seconds, probably contemplating whether to kick him out or play one of her risky games. She seemed to decide on the latter, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as if to calm herself down.

"Sit," she said simply, no trace of that deceptive smile on her lips. Just a hint of controlled coldness and lethal threat in her gaze that, Azriel realized, was infinitely more dangerous.

His knees hit the padded edge of the sofa as Averis moved closer, the intensity of her eyes on him making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She placed a firm hand on his chest and pushed him, making him finally sit.

"You are not allowed to touch me," she whispered, her tone hostile. Yes, he should regret it. Azriel knew that. Every fiber of his body screamed danger, danger, danger, but he was paralyzed. Completely captive.

"I know," he murmured back, his voice hoarse, weak. The reddish light cast fascinating shadows on her face, outlining the curves that Azriel didn't dare to look at.

Averis moved away like an incarnated shadow, her movements flowing like dark water. The red light of transformed her into something ethereal and treacherous—a goddess of war dressed in silk and fury. She began to circle the golden pole without ever taking her eyes off him. Every step was a veiled threat, every movement an unspoken promise to destroy him.

The first spin was slow, deliberate. She intertwined one leg on the pole and let her body fall backward in a perfect arch, her head hanging, her hair falling like fiery cascades to the floor. The dress slid up her thighs like spilled silk, revealing the fair skin that shone under the colored lights. Azriel clenched his fists until his fingers hurt. Every fiber of his being screamed to touch her, to interrupt that sweet torture she inflicted with every fluid movement.

She spun again, faster this time, the fabric of her dress floating around her body like smoke. When she let go of the pole, it was to press her back against it, arching her spine in an impossible curve that made the air leave Azriel's lungs in a broken sigh. Slowly, excruciatingly, she descended to the floor, her body undulating in a sinuosity that was pure art—and pure provocation.

Her eyes never left his.

Azriel thought his body would catch fire at any moment. Every muscle was tense, on the verge of snapping. His breathing came and went in desperate movements, no matter how much he commanded himself to cool down. He seemed to have no control over himself anymore.

She knelt on the floor, her hands running over her own thighs in a movement that was both innocent and devastatingly sensual. Azriel watched, mesmerized, as she moved her hands up her own body with agonizing slowness—fingers tracing curves he couldn't touch, caressing skin he couldn't experience.

Averis rose slowly and intertwined her leg on the pole once more, spinning with a grace that defied gravity. The dress went up even higher, and Azriel swallowed hard, the blood roaring in his ears like a tempest.

And then she stopped. And started walking.

Towards him.

Every step was calculated to kill him slowly. Azriel had never seen anything so dangerously fascinating—she was a tornado approaching, beautiful and lethal in equal measure.

She placed her hands on his knee, her face just a few inches away, her mouth slightly ajar before she bit her lower lip. Azriel took a deep breath, his back arching unconsciously towards her.

"Did you think I was a damsel in distress that you needed to come and save?" her voice was low and dripped with disdain. He swallowed hard, his tongue heavy, his throat burning with the fire that consumed him from within.

Averis turned and swayed her hips slowly, descending again to the floor. She looked at him over her shoulder, and the smile she had on her lips now was not theatrical at all. It was a lovely threat.

"Who gave you the right to think you could save me?" she hissed, turning to face him and, on all fours, crawled to where he was sitting. Every movement was feline, predatory. Azriel stopped breathing when she opened his knees with her hands and knelt between his legs. His heart was now beating so hard, so out of sync, that he was grateful for the loud music, otherwise he was sure she would hear it. And mock him.

"I don't need rescuing, Shadows," Averis said, her hands moving up his thighs in a caress that was more an intimidation than an endearment. Azriel pressed his hands into the couch, his nails digging into the velvet until the fabric tore.

"I know," was all he could whisper, his sanity minutes away from being lost forever. He stared at that face bathed in red and blue light and for a moment wondered if he wasn't hallucinating. If maybe he wasn't in hell, and this was the torture designed to break his soul.

Averis's fingers moved up his chest, scratching his skin over the thin tunic, grabbing him by the collar and standing up. She sat above him, one thigh on each side of his waist as she circled her hips without actually touching him, each movement a calculated provocation. Azriel watched with an attention that bordered on devotion when a drop of sweat ran from her neck into her cleavage.

"Is this how you dance for all your customers?" The question escaped before he could stop it, as he felt the foam of the sofa that his hands had torn.

Averis moved her face closer, her eyes now fixed on his mouth. "Only for the special ones," she replied, her lips close to his ear sending a new wave of shivers up his arms. She pulled away, her fingers still gripping the collar of his shirt. Azriel let go of the settee and his hands hovered over her hips. "Don't you dare touch me."

He nodded, lowering them again.

Averis stood up and turned her back, again between his knees, her hips moving in that mesmerizing way. She tossed her hair over one shoulder, leaving the other exposed, the thin strap of her dress slipping over her arm. It required colossal effort from him not to touch her and put the strap back in place—just so he could feel the texture of her skin, something he desired so deeply that his whole body ached. His soul ached.

She turned, bending down and placing her arms on the back of the sofa, one on each side of Azriel's head. She moved closer to his face, her warm, minty breath caressing his lips. Her eyes were endless dim oceans, and he felt himself sinking, drowning, shattering.

"The next time you think you need to rescue me," Averis whispered, staring so deeply into him that he believed she could see through him. "Think again."

Azriel shivered. Even so, he couldn't look away from her eyes.

Averis moved, walking slowly to the curtain at the back of the private room. He immediately missed her warmth like a physical loss.

With one last penetrating look, she said: "Your time is up."

And with a racing heart, weak breath, and a completely entangled mind, Azriel knew that to be true.

Chapters: 41/50 Fandom: Bionicle - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Hewkii/Macku (Bionicle), Takua & The Chronicler's Company, The Chronicler's Company & Turaga Metru, The Chronicler's Company & Toa Nuva Characters: Takua | Takanuva (Bionicle), Kapura (Bionicle), Macku (Bionicle), Tamaru (Bionicle), Hafu (Bionicle), Taipu (Bionicle), Kopeke (Bionicle), Jaller (Bionicle), Matoro (Bionicle), Turaga (Bionicle), Hewkii (Bionicle), Nuparu (Bionicle), Kongu (Bionicle), Hahli (Bionicle), Toa Nuva (Bionicle), Bohrok-Kal (Bionicle) Additional Tags: Bionicle G1, Mata Nui (Island), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, The Turaga have some explaining to do, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Jaller deserves a vacation, Trans Tamaru (Bionicle), Taipu is a cinnamon roll, Nonverbal Kopeke, Pohatu: he's everyone's friend, Treespeak/Chutespeak, Kongu's accent is nigh incomprehensible., Now slightly more beta read, Vakama has the gift of prophesy and it's everyone's problem, What is love? Matoran have no idea, Macku connecting the dots Summary:

Sophie: Where are you?

Agatha: I’m with some strange person. In a car. Help.

Sophie: I’ll call Tedros.

Tedros, answering her cell: Y’ello?

Sophie: Where’s Agatha? They texted me that they were being kidnapped.

Tedros: Agatha? Whaddya mean, she's right next to me-

Tedros:

Tedros: I’ll call you back. *hangs up*

Tedros: THE NEW HAIRCUT ISN’T THAT BAD!

Acting is largely a matter of farting about in disguises.

- Peter O’Toole

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