The sun peeked in through the drawn-to curtains, finding a way to thread into your shared time again and notify you that the day had begun.

You yelped, squeezing your eyes shut as laughter bubbled from within. His mouth pressed hot kisses up the side of your throat, pausing to nose the underside of your jaw. The ticklish sensation made it impossible not to smile. You shifted in his grip, enough to turn and face him, back pressing against the counter as you tried to glare up at the male, but he was already grinning down at you.

Azriel's lips quirk, and that's all it takes to have your limbs unsticking.

You eagerly pad forward, walking up to him, hands moving to your hips then wrapping round the base of your spine. Your own hands land on his broad shoulders as you slide into his lap, legs parting either side of his thighs. You press into his warmth, nestling deeper into the firm strength of him, nosing at his throat.

Azriel's large hand strokes your hair, soothingly possessive, tucking you away.

At your words, a small rush of humiliation coursed through him, the kind only you could make feel good. Deserved. He swallowed, fisting his hands tighter in the sheets. How badly he wanted to tangle his them in your hair and shove you down on his cock. Make you drool. Choke.

“You eat humans?” The tremble in your voice is prominent, and you’re surprised you don’t stutter with the fear that’s thrumming along with your heartbeat. “Among other things,” he drawls, inhaling your scent as you try not to move. Your breath catches as he opens his mouth over your throat, a whimper working it’s was from your own as terror climbs higher. A quiet squeak leaves you as his tongue swipes out, hot and wet, dragging over your skin as he tastes you.

You’re lying on the circular mattress, darkness shrouding the surrounding room, lit only by candles. The milky wax melts to the floor, moving in circles until it forms a tight ring around the mattress. Then, the streams start looking toward your bed, rolling beneath you to inevitably join.

You work in silence, save for the occasional request for Azriel to shift his wings to different positions, which he follows exceptionally. There are a few times your tape doesn’t span long enough; you have to press the marking fabric against his skin to note where to restart. Each time you give him a heads up along with a free invitation to veto at any time. He just nods along with your requests, indulging your curiosity each time until you’ve completed your measurements.

There was something deeply calming about listening to the rain tip-tap on the glass ceiling that formed your conservatory. The blank grey of the sky forming a pleasant reprieve from the usually intricately detailed mix of sun and fluffy cloud.

The rain grew heavier, pounding at the roof while you watched the water gush down the sides, spilling over into the streets - your plants would drink well. A knock rocked through the glass walls coming from behind you, where the door lay.

“Cass,” you scold, leaning back into him, “I need to get to work.” He stops, and you hear him sniff. He goes silent for a moment, then steps back as a sneeze erupts from him. You double over as you practically laugh your socks off, watching as the powerfully built male is felled by your garden. “And that is why you should let me. I need to pull the wild flowers from the grass,” your gaze shifts to the main area of your garden, the floor’s a patchwork of moss and grass as it’s softer; spongier.

Your brow furrows as you attempt to move your lower body. Unresponsive. Your eyes flutter open, managing to keep them apart to begin adjusting to the darkness. Your vision is limited, your face pressing against the mattress, but you’re able to make out a dark, wood bed frame, complete with walls that shift from grey to black. A towering figure wreathed in shadow stands at your side.

Your whole body recoils as his hand dips between your thighs, thumb running over your heat, dipping into the slickness that’s gathered in defence. “Look at you,” he groans softly, “so wet.” His other hand squeezes the flesh of your inner thigh appreciatively, “such a good little thing for me.”