“You know how sometimes you hear a song and it’s just the song you wanted to hear right in that moment and then its over and you’re just glad you heard it,” Azriel probed, voice an impossible blend of powerful bass and liquescent melody.
Gwyn frowned, unsure of his line of questioning. She turned, hand still held in his and quirked an eyebrow. “And am I like that song,” she clarified.
“No, nothing like that,” he admitted with a shake of his head. A lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. “If there was only one song I could hear for the rest of my life - you’re that song.”
Gwyn threw her arms around him, burying her head against his shoulder as he reeled backward, keeping them both upright. His answering chuckle resonated against her chest, warming her down to her toes.
He gathered her into his arms, crushing her against him, so close he could hear her heart racing. Azriel rested his cheek against her head and breathed deeply. He smelled wonderful - felt wonderful, and it was all Gwyn could do not to crush him in her arms.
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Happy Holidays! It is the 25th and Jack is now 20 human years old! . .I hope everyones Christmas was great and ya new year is better! . .#jack #11mjack #sketch #drawing #art #reading #forgottoaddhisreadingglasses #calm #goodvibes #ocbirthday #characterbirthday #christmasbirthday #smallscene
It was a sweltering summer evening when Gwyn finally worked up the courage to bring some of her more interesting finds home with her. She’d been patiently researching, waiting for the right moment to share what she’d found in the tower.
All through dinner she’d been unable to keep the blush rising to her cheeks. It was if the Shadowsinger knew what she was up to and it drove her a little wild. The way his fingers lingered on a glass of wine. How the muscles in his arms pulled and bunched as he cut into his food. Or, fuck, the way his tongue kept darting out to wet his lips...
Gwyn had chugged two additional glasses of courage to make it through dessert. The way that male ate cake was indecent, she’d decided. So, when they retired to the study, Azriel intent on finishing a task for Rhys, Gwyn struck.
They sat before the darkened fireplace on a rug that her knees were still recovering from. She set an ancient tome between them. The leather bound book was very worn and the pages yellowed. Legs crossed and brow furrowed, Az listened, chin in hand, as Gwyn explained the book she’d found; an illustrated manual of Illyrian sex positions.
He tried to focus on her words but got too caught up in the explicit hand gestures she kept making. Eyes bright as gems, she launched into which pages were her favorites and which she couldn’t believe possible, all the while he observed and listened. She was beautifully curious, lovely in her innocence and it made his smile grow wide to know he was the male she chose to trust in this exploration.
“All right,” she said, exasperated. “Now they’re just making fun of me!” She gestured at his shadows who had begun to imitate her hand movements.
Azriel laughed so loudly, so recklessly, that he snorted in a very un-fae-like manner. Gwyn joined in, the sound pure as light, joy personified. “So,” he sat up straight, stretching his long legs out before him. “Which page would you like to start on?”
“The first, obviously,” she said with a shrug. “But,” she drawled, biting her lower lip and blushing impossibly further. He loved the way her eyes lit up when she was scheming something new. “I thought we could start with 92.”
Gwyn thumbed through the pages till she found the exact one. She pushed the book toward him, spinning it so that the image was no longer upside down. Azriel frowned, looking at her and then himself before giving a single nod.
