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nikachansstuff · 7 days ago

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I realized that this fic fits perfectly into Day 5 for @azrielappreciationweek

Azriel doesn’t need poetry, but what happens when he tries and ends up writing some foolish (and lustful) words that ends up in Elain’s possession?

Interception

Tags: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sex, Soft Azriel, Azriel Needs a Hug, Simp Azriel, Azriel in Love.

Summary: The wrong note turned prophecy.

Link for AO3

Or read it bellow. All my love and thanks to the lovely @violetasteracademic for revising this one for me and giving me so much insight. You're the best, girl.

My dear Elain, I am truly sorry for my words-

Azriel scanned the freshly typed text. For the third time in the last hour, he removed the paper from the typewriter and crumpled it in his tight fists. He closed his eyes, resting his lips in his hands that still held the paper, savoring for a brief moment the scent of parchment.

Eight months.

Eight months since, those words had left his mouth during Solstice, ending whatever sparked between them and making him the only witness to Elain Archeron's heartbreak. Eight months following his High Lord's command.

Eight fucking months thinking about her during the day and dreaming about her during the nights. Imagining possible scenarios if he only had had the courage to leave that damned office straight to her bedroom and beg for her forgiveness.

Azriel opened his eyes, and his fingers found the keys again. Impulsively, he couldn't stop the words from forming.

Dear Elain, In my dreams, I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt. In my thoughts, I make love to you all day long. Azriel

His eyes scanned the words again, and as he finished typing, a half smile slowly curved his lips. He ripped the paper from the machine and let out a heavy sigh, reclining in the old chair.

Shaking his head, he couldn't help the chuckle that left his lips at the absurdity of the words. He would never be so bold as to say those words out loud or to

deliver the letter, now double-folded next to his cup of hot tea.

But somehow, Azriel could picture it perfectly: Elain opening the letter, her milky skin turning a soft blush while reading the words. She would lose a breath; her lips would part as they did that night. And then, she would bite her bottom lip, her shyness giving way to the desire she would feel. Or would she be horrified? Slapping him on the cheek him just like that play he once watched at Velaris Grand Theater.

Eight months.

A lot could change in eight months. They hadn't spoken since that damned night, and Azriel refused to give in to his need to track her with his shadows. He wanted it; only the Mother knew the effort it took to not throw away his morals and just give in to have some news from her. But he stood against it and kept away from her as Rhysand had ordered him to do. As he was foolish enough to obey.

But he couldn’t anymore.

Dearest Elain, My headaches increased alarmingly since we last saw each other. And I don’t think I can blame our loud friends anymore. Your gift remains untouched by my nightstand. I like to keep it there as a reminder of you and your gentleness. Please forgive me for my words in our last encounter. The truth is my absence is the only way to keep me from acting on my longing thoughts. The only mistake was stopping before I could finally fulfill my dreams Sincerely, Azriel

He finished typing and signed his name in neat handwriting. Losing a soft breath, Azriel folded the letter and placed it inside an envelope. In a quick movement, he wrote Elain Archeron on the blank front of it and placed it on his desk. Finally lifting from the old armchair, he could start getting ready for tonight’s dinner, hosted by his High Lord and Lady, at the River House.

Azriel took three long steps in the direction of his in-suite bathroom and called a single shadow that wrapped itself in his forearm. Please take the note to Elain, at the Townhouse, he commanded silently, while undressing and entering in the enormous clawfoot bathtub.

It took him longer than usual to bathe. He allowed himself a moment to just relax in the hot water, letting his thoughts travel far while he washed. He left the bathroom, his body shivering from the different temperatures between rooms.

Azriel was finishing adjusting the siphon on his right hand, when he allowed his eyes to travel to his desk. Where the envelope with Elain’s name still rested in the dark wood. He hesitated for a second, his shadows slowly closing in on his ankles.

Suppressing the terror that threatened to take over his body, Azriel searched for the folded note close to his teacup. His tea now cold, the note containing his deepest secret now absent.

Well…

Fuck.

An uncharacteristic high-pitched laugh rumbled in his chest at the realization of what had just happened. Azriel ran his hands through his hair, biting his bottom lip hard enough to hurt. Fuck. So much for resorting to poetry, to relying on paper to deliver what he had felt for the past two years. He shook his head, still not quite believing how careless and miscalculating the whole series of events was.

However… the idea of Elain reading such words sent a chill down his spine, both petrifying and, to his disbelief, exciting. He could feel the light shiver that went through him, the curiosity of seeing her reaction getting the worst of him. He was a sick bastard. From complete absence to a filthy declaration.

“Fuck,” he shook his head again while bracing the hard desk, the steady wood giving him a sense of reality in the foggy situation.

There was no way around it, so he needed to talk to Elain before dinner. Part of him even dared to hope that maybe Elain was not at the Townhouse, that maybe his shadow had left the note by her nightstand in her bedroom. If so, he could simply enter the room and take that damn piece of paper without any repercussion to his foolish (and lustful) words.

Taking a deep breath, Azriel left his bedroom at the House of Wind. He crossed the long corridors and exited the house, opening his wings and taking the skies. The flying did little to clear his head and calm the fire burning in his lungs, both from embarrassment and, again, to his horror, excitement. His reaction was surprising himself, the dose of recklessness in all of it acting as fuel to the desire he so carefully tried to suppress for so long.

His shoes made contact with the hard asphalt in front of the Townhouse, in a loud thud. Azriel took the next steps, hesitating at the front door of Elain’s house for the last couple of months.

Rhysand and Feyre made it clear to Elain that the Townhouse could be her haven whenever she needed. Azriel had thought about the decision and couldn’t help wondering if this was a way for Rhysand to give privacy to both Elain and Lucien to explore their mating bond, whenever he was in town.

Azriel bit his inner cheek at the thought. Clearly, it was not the right place for his mind to wander because all Azriel could feel was an icy rage, notes and letters, and words forgotten. Feeling his turmoil, his shadows wrapped around his calves wildly, and for a moment, he just stood there, glaring at the front door as if it had personally offended him.

Azriel was so distracted by murderous thoughts that he faltered a step when the door opened, his heart skipping a beat.

And there she was.

Elain kept her hand on the doorknob, her warm doe eyes wide while greeting him. Azriel swallowed thickly, his eyes taking in the female in front of him.

The dress made him pause, the style so different from the ordinary choice Elain would prefer. The green satin dress had fine straps, baring her lightly freckled shoulders. Azriel noticed at that moment that he had never once seen Elain's shoulders, and that was a sin in itself.

The soft fabric was lightly loose in her torso, hugging her curvy hips, to then cascade over her legs in different panels of luxurious satin, a faint suggestion of a slit in her right thigh. He saw the style once in the Continent, the fashion considered scandalous for women in the human lands.

His eyes traveled up to her thick hair tied at her nape. A few strands were loosely pinned on her scalp, framing her lovely face. Gods, she was devastating. Their eyes met, the awareness of his long stare hitting him. Azriel cleaned his throat, suddenly feeling like a youngling caught in a mischief.

“Lady,” Azriel murmured, dropping his head in a light bow, and when he lifted his chin, their eyes met again.

Azriel couldn’t tell if Elain knew about the note, her expression null and not giving him anything. He almost winced at the sting in his chest at the realization that he couldn’t read her so easily anymore.

A lot could change in eight months.

Slowly, Elain did a polite curtsy, taking a step away from the door. “Do you want to come in?” her voice was soft as always, but with a stiffness he was not accustomed to. He nodded, while running his hands in the lapel of his black jacket.

Elain turned, displaying the naked skin of her back, making him inhale sharply, the air suddenly too hot. She crossed the hall all the way to the corridor leading to Rhysand’s old office. Azriel followed her steps, allowing himself the pleasure of seeing Elain’s hips undulate under the flowy skirt. She opened the heavy door and continued her way to the wooden desk at the back of the office. She flickered the desk lamp on, giving the room a warm and intimate lighting. Azriel entered the room next, closing the door behind him.

He turned, and his eyes traveled to the numerous bookshelves, stopping at a title behind Elain’s left shoulder. Suddenly, all his training experience, all the wars, battles, and enemies did nothing to help him gather the courage to face Elain Archeron. The jasmine and honey he so desperately craved filled the room.

Azriel inhaled generously, savoring her scent like a starved male, the sweetness heavy on his tongue. Only then, hazel met brown.

“You’ve never called me lady before,” she broke the silence, proving she was the bravest of the two.

“Elain,” Azriel shook his head, feeling stupid for the over-politeness he assumed was the best choice. He looked at the carpeted floor, and then, her. “It was a mistake,” her eyes narrowed slightly, and he cursed himself for the terrible choice of words.

“Yes,” she said coldly.

“I’m sorry-That’s not right…” He exhaled heavily. “What I meant is it was a stupidity,” he continued, brushing his thumb with his index finger nervously. “It was never meant to be read.”

“No,” she agreed.

“It was the wrong note,” his heartbeat wildly; Azriel felt completely exposed under her gaze. “The right letter was more appropriate and less- “

“Anatomical?” she completed, resting her hands on the surface of the desk behind her.

Azriel allowed himself to chuckle at the absurdity. Shaking his head, his eyes traveled to the ceiling, exposing the skin of his blushing neck. “Yes.” He murmured then and searched her eyes again.

But Elain was not looking at him. Her focus was on the white lilies beautifully displayed in a ceramic vase on the dark wood desk. He watched her fingertips as she lightly caressed the petals, the gesture so intimate. Then, Elain took a short step away from the desk. “I was surprised to hear from you…” She contoured the desk, again giving him a glance of her back, miles and miles of naked skin. “I thought it was odd, you never sent me a note before,” she continued in a low voice, and Azriel followed her slowly, his steps a muffled sound meeting the carpet.

Elain then turned, her eyes taking in the smaller distance between their bodies. She took a step back, her elbows lightly brushing the bookshelves behind her as if she could disappear behind the titles. Azriel heard a wet, soft sound as she unglued her tongue from the roof of her mouth to speak, her voice so low that only amplified the intimacy shared: “What said the letter I was supposed to read?”

Azriel took another step, getting closer to her. “It was an apology for my words that night.” He couldn’t say that he was only following Rhysand’s orders. How could Elain understand the authority of his High Lord’s command? How that order alone spoke deeply to the most primal part of him. The part that was more beast than Fae. It took Azriel months alone to slowly release himself from the need to obey, to bend the knee. He always was the wildest one, the one Rhysand couldn't easily control, and being there, with the female he wanted so fiercely, was just another proof of that. “It said the only mistake was to stop…” Elain turned her head, seeking shelter in the dark space not illuminated by the soft light from the desk lamp. She covered her mouth and nose with a trembling hand as if she was trying to physically stop herself from speaking. Her eyes glimmered as she touched their corner with her fingertips.

“Eight months,” she murmured, still avoiding his gaze.

“I know…”

“You called it a mistake,” she then looked at him, and her eyes showed so much pain that Azriel felt sick.

“I know, and I am sorry, Elain - I am so sorry,” his jaw locked purposefully tight. He had to forced himself to respect the distance Elain placed between their bodies. “You didn’t read it wrong, I wanted you – Gods, I still want you,” he almost choked in the last words. “Tell me how to fix it, Elain, and I will do it – I - why are you crying?”

“Don’t you know?” she said between a sob, finally letting her hand drop from her face, a single tear running a path down her cheek.

It took him a second, a brief, finite second, but there it was: their language. The bizarre familiarity that had blossomed the day he had first met Elain Archeron. Once that intimacy hit him, her eyes, her beautiful face, and soft gestures were easy to read, like his favorite book. And he knew, then. Azriel just understood what that single tear was telling him.

“Yes, I know exactly," he said breaking the silence, and then, Azriel just moved towards her, closing the distance in a purposeful stride.

Their bodies crashed, and he pressed her against the bookshelves, placing his hands against them, caging her. A soft gasp left Elain’s lips at the impact, and then, their mouths collided. Only a hard pressure of lips, passion and hunger motivating more than care. Azriel felt more than heard Elain’s whimper, so he forced himself to place a distance between them again.

Her eyes were hooded as she lifted her head to look at him. Azriel inhaled sharply to calm the burning that could spoil it all. So, he slowly, tenderly cradled her face with his scarred hands. His thumb lightly traced her wet bottom lip, and then, he was blessed by the vision of Elain parting her mouth, welcoming the touch. Azriel lowered his face, still looking at her, and brushed his lips against hers. One, two, three soft times. They were beyond present, past, and future as Azriel finally claimed Elain’s mouth.

Her lips were soft against him as she tentatively kissed him, the clumsiness of it all fueling something primal inside him. They drew away for a second, and she placed her hands on his chest as they met again with more confidence. His hand drifted from her face to her neck, pressing her pulse point in a featherlight touch, earning him the lowest and most beautiful sound that he knew would mark the shift between them forever. When their tongues finally met, Azriel felt Elain’s knees faltering, so he pressed her harder against the bookshelves. His groan was loud enough for their ears only, and he couldn’t stop. The hunger was too strong, the desire weighing heavy on his limbs. He increased the pressure in her neck, craving the feeling of her high beating pulse, and Elain just lightly turned, offering him more. Giving him permission to take it. So, he did.

When Azriel broke the kiss, he could’ve sworn he heard a whimper of complaint. Responsive. Elain was utterly, beautifully responsive, that wild part of her speaking to his hidden beast in a way that not even his most savage dreams could have him prepared for. He pressed his forehead against hers, his hand still on her neck, his thumb brushing the velvety skin. He slowly lowered his mouth to her jaw, tracing a wet path, inhaling greedily. Elain shivered under his arms, her hands clinging to the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. His other hand gently caressed her left arm up to her shoulder, and when his fingers reached the thin strap, he noticed he was trembling.

Elain must have felt it too, because she opened her eyes, and looked at his scarred hand. Slowly, her gaze drifted to his. “You’re shaking…” she said in a voice that was not her own. Raspy, lower.

He nodded, inhaling deeply, his forehead brushing the side of her neck at the motion. And then, he answered in a throaty murmur: “I was miserable without you,” his fingers played with the fine strap again.

She gently brought his hand from her neck to her mouth. She kissed his knuckles, her eyes burning bright. “I missed you too," she said and got on her toes, kissing him again. The kiss different, ravenous.

She hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her, demanding more contact. Azriel moaned loudly when Elain carved her nails in his nape. His response was to move his fingers at the strap, letting it drop to her arm, exposing her shoulder. He ran his tongue through the freckles, savoring both her scent and her shiver. Elain let out a sigh that sounded both pained and breathless. She pulled on his hair, bringing his lips to hers, her mouth greedily kissing, her tongue lapping, her teeth nipping. So different from the female he knew. So different from the female that has haunted him for years. And he didn’t recognize himself as he pressed his thigh between hers, finally allowing the painful hardness of his length to seek relief in her fabric-covered flesh. Elain moaned at the intimate contact, and the sound seemed to pierce him, becoming a new and essential part of him.

She looked at him, all blushed skin and ragged breath, seeming so, so lost. At last, they were free to take, give, demand, and explore between those four walls that sheltered them from all the outside noises, the reminders of the impossibilities.

Azriel searched her eyes, finding the same hunger, so he slowly thrusted against her. He was rewarded with another broken sob. He again lowered his face, her breath hot on his damp lips. He held her right hand, interlocking their fingers, and pressed them above her head against the bookshelves. Elain's other hand grabbed his shoulder, seeking his steadiness as to anchor herself. He pushed his hips again, fabric against fabric, more forcefully, and she closed her eyes, brows furrowing.

“Look at me,” he whispered in a low rasp against her mouth, and so she did. Elain seemed as drunk as he was. So, so lost. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” her answer was immediate, and her nails dug into his shoulder. “Please - oh, please, don’t,” and he couldn’t not bite her bottom lip, savoring the needy whimper.

His tongue searched for hers again, more demanding. Coaxing her in a dance, her inexperience giving place to that newly found instinct. He then sucked on her tongue, and Elain turned pliable in his hands, her head hitting the shelves behind her in a muffled sound. Azriel let go of her soft hand, slowly reaching for the expensive fabric barely covering her small breast. His thumb traced the exposed skin of her bust, a tentative ask of consent to which Elain’s answer was the hard pulling of his hair towards her. Azriel didn’t hesitate then, baring her breast and capturing the rosy nipple in his mouth. Her moan was lower than his, the sensation piercing his lower stomach, and his hips pushed harder against her supple body.

Azriel felt something shift inside Elain. And her hands were everywhere, pulling and pushing, the contradiction as a result of desperation. She tried to unbutton his shirt, biting his jaw. He sucked harder then, working his way to expose her other breast. Elain inhaled deeply against his neck, mumbling nonsense he couldn’t hear, too drunk in her scent mixed with his own to stop. Then, she finally, finally exposed his chest, dragging her short nails through the inky swirls with enough bite to sting. He hissed at the pain and rose through it at his full height, looking at her from above. Their eyes met, and Elain slowly moved towards his naked chest. Azriel only watched, in a trance, as she dug her teeth into his nipple, hard and not playful.

His hands were in her hair, then he pulled her from him and lifted her chin to capture her lips again. She opened her mouth below him, and they both moaned when their tongues met again with little finesse. Azriel grabbed her waist and pushed her higher against the furniture, her weight half supported by a lower shelf. Desperation guided him hard towards her legs, grabbing the satin fabric and pulling it to expose her. Elain opened wider, giving him more space between her milky thighs and she whimpered when his hips thrusted, pressing hard against her heated core. His breath was hot and heavy, and for a second, the need enveloped every part of his body, and Azriel froze, lost in what to do next, what to taste, to give, and to take.

Elain laced one leg at his waist, encouraging the pressure. They looked at each other, and Azriel ran his calloused fingers on the velvety skin of her thighs. Sweat covered Elain’s neck, tempting him, so he lowered his mouth, lapping at the exposed flash, tasting salt and honey. His hand moved on its own accord, higher and higher, up to her heated groin. His thumb traced the lace of her underwear, and Elain’s gasp was both surprised and pained. Their eyes met, and Azriel slowly separated their bodies, both breathing raggedly.

Azriel took one infinite minute to take her in, all of her. The thin straps were hanging loose on her arms by the elbows, breasts fully exposed. A thigh was still hocked in his waist, and the other leg hung, lightly trembling both from need and exhaustion. Her hair was now loose from her nape, strands everywhere, and he realized he couldn’t point when that had happened. The complete utter mess of her only fueled his arousal, encouraging him to dig deeper, to ravish her entirely. So, Azriel slowly removed her leg from his waist and did what he had dreamed about for the past eight months: he kneeled in front of Elain.

Gently, he ran his hands through her calves, bringing her foot to his bended knee. Elain just watched from above, all wooded eyes, the brown burning fiercely. Azriel then unclipped the thin strap of her golden sandal, removing the shoe. Still holding her gaze, he kissed the inside of her heel, guiding her leg to the round wood step of the bookshelve ladder. He reached for the satin skirt, moving the fabric around her bent leg. He turned his face to the inside of her thigh, brushing his nose on the milky skin. Elain sucked a ragged breath, their eyes still locked in a heated gaze. His mouth moved upwards and covered the path with hot, wet, open mouth kisses. Suddenly realizing his intentions, Elain’s lips parted.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a weak voice, grabbing the shelves by her waist, knuckles whitening.

Azriel grabbed her heel, both to part her legs wider and to anchor himself. Wetting his lips, looking at her beautiful brown eyes, he finally uttered the words that haunted his dreams: “Let me taste you,” her eyes widened at the request. “Please,” he begged in a broken, desperate whisper, brows furrowing. “Oh, Gods, please, Elain,” he blinked his too-heavy lids, slowly reaching for her sex to run his lips against the lace underwear. Elain let out a sob as she nodded, a broken yes leaving her lips as that lovely blush painted her skin in the most beautiful way.

Azriel closed his eyes, brushed his nose against the lacy fabric, and inhaled deeply. The scent of her arousal weighted sweetly on his tongue, and his mouth watered. He turned his head and ran his lips through her inner thigh up, up, up her hip bone, where he nipped the skin through the fabric just for good measure. She whimpered above him, lacing her fingers through his hair. Opening his eyes, he couldn’t suppress the low chuckle that left his lips at the disbelief, at the enormity of fulfilling what once was a long-lost dream. Something snapped inside him, and he hocked his fingers in the fragile lace, pushing it aside and baring her. The wet pink cunt glistened under the intimate half-lighting. “Beautiful,” his voice was a throaty rasp. He searched her eyes, and when he found them closed, his groan was both annoyed and aroused.

"Elain," he called her and Gods, he sounded desperate. She opened her eyes, gazing at him from above, in a trance. “Look at me,” he commanded, but his voice was equally deep and broken. “Actually look at me, or I will stop,” he said, and she nodded again, her eyes watering.

So, finally, Azriel kissed Elain’s sweet, wet cunt, the note now both prophecy and only witness. His loud moan drowned the sound of her own at that first taste. His tongue greedily lapped her entrance, sliding between her pink lips, wanting all of it, and when her hands weighted heavily on his scalp, for a moment, he thought she had fainted. Elain let out a long moan, the vowel stretching for infinite seconds. And despite his threat, he was the one with closed eyes, savoring her in the darkness. When his lips closed around that sweet spot and sucked, she startled, and the motion woke him up to the present. It suddenly hit him exactly where he was and what he was doing. “Fuck,” he groaned against her sex. “Gods, fuck – Elain,” he was a mumbling mess at the realization.

In a feral impulse, he grabbed her thighs, opening her wider, and his tongue was sliding, lapping, sucking, and fucking worshiping her. The loud, filthy, wet sounds filled the room along with their mixed scents. One hand in his head, her other searched for support on the shelf above her hand. Elain was trembling under his touch, a broken whimper leaving her lips every time he sucked hard on the apex of her thighs. Their eyes met as he slowly glided a finger inside her, his mouth parting, mimicking her expression. He trusted carefully, painfully aware of her every reaction. Elain brought the palm of her hand to her mouth, biting the soft flesh, her moan muffled. Azriel reached for her wrist, shaking his head. “No, I want to hear it, sweetheart,” he rasped. “All of it, I need it,” and he pushed his finger harder, twisting it on the way out.

He felt it, then. The beginning of her fall. And it was his driving force and only need as he ravished her, tongue, fingers, nose and chin. He couldn’t stop his own moans when Elain grinded against him, searching for her release. The obscene sounds filled the small space, bouncing back from the four walls, and he knew then that this was his undoing. He would never recover, neither did he want to. He wanted to commit to memory every sound, every note of that scent, every drop of that sweet fucking honey on his tongue.

Her mouth was a perfect O when she came undone on his tongue. He felt the sweet contractions in his hand, the fresh rush of wetness, the trembling limbs. “Yes, sweetheart, that’s it,” he praised her, still sliding his fingers, working her through her climax. Elain was a shaking mess above him, eyes closed, back arched. When she was finally coming down from her high, she let out a final satiated moan, a small smile curving her lips, and she turned her blushed face to the ladder, her forehead rolling into the dark wood in a lazy motion. She was a vision. Devastating.

Azriel slowly rose from the floor back to his full height, and Elain opened her eyes, taking him in. Her eyes were glazed, but with a slow blink of the heavy eyelids, when she looked at him, it was there. The hunger was still there. And Azriel thanked all the Gods above for it. He positioned himself between her thighs and slowly raised his right scarred hand closer to their faces. Elain only watched as he brought his still-soaked fingers to her swollen bottom lip, brushing it in a light touch, painting it with her release. Her eyes were wide at the realization, and Azriel's own lips curved in a devilish half-smile. "Sweet like fucking honey,” and before she could have a taste, he captured her glistening lip with his teeth and sucked, growling ravenously.

Elain whimpered as she caressed his exposed chest with trembling hands. Her nails had no bite left and traced a path downwards the button of his pants. Azriel still lapped at her bottom lip greedily, aware of her hands working their way to free him from the layers that separated them. When she finally unbuttoned his clothes, she let out a sigh of relief, the fabric now pooling at his ankles. All that was left was his undershorts, his arousal evidently displayed. She scanned both his eyes before hers descended, and then, Azriel only watched as Elain looked at his erection, a maddening male pride felling his senses when her eyes widened.

“Oh,” her trembling voice was both surprised and curious.

“We don’t need to- “

“Don’t you dare,” she interrupted him in a heated whisper, her eyes back on his.

Elain placed one hand at the waistband of his last piece of clothing and pulled gently, grating space for her other hand to free his cock. Her lovely, sweat damp palm fisted him, and Azriel held his breath, both at the perfect sensation of Elain’s touch and at the vision of her small hand barely able to close around him. He bit his lip, bringing his forehead to hers, both breathing raggedly. She moved her palm up, a fingertip curiously brushing the slickness at the head. Azriel inhaled deeply, surrendering to her pace and will, letting her fulfill her curiosity and take her fill in uneven, inexperienced strokes. The clumsiness of it all aroused him even further.

He cradled her face with his calloused palms, but Elain kept her gaze fixed on his cock, jerking it with both small hands. He held her jaw then, and Elain's eyes were on his. Basking in her full attention, Azriel pressed one thumb in her mouth, seeking entrance, and Elain parted her lips showing true eagerness. She sucked his finger into her mouth, and Azriel pressed the pad of his thumb on her velvety tongue, pinching it from inside while holding her jaw and locking it as he wanted. Azriel then lowered his free hand, swiping one bead of precum on his thumb, bringing it close to their faces again, the action followed by burning brown eyes. Elain opened her mouth wider under his pinch, and he removed his thumb from her jaw, cradling her chin. Their gaze still locked, he brought his slick thumb to his own mouth, tasting himself while still feeling Elain’s release in his tongue. Elain whimpered, her breath rapid and hot, her lips still widely parted. Azriel then lowered his face to hers, tilting her head, and spit inside her mouth, feeding her both their essence. He watched her throat work as she swallowed what he gave her, her eyes closing as she moaned. Elain then opened her eyes, parting her mouth again, asking silently for more.

“Fuck,” he rasped, pulling her towards him and kissing her savagely.

Suddenly, she placed one hand on his chest, breaking the kiss and willing him backward, creating space between their bodies. His brow furrowed in confusion, but then, Elain’s feet touched the carpeted floor, and she hooked her fingers on her underwear. She held his gaze, all blush and conviction, as she pushed it downwards her lovely thighs, bending one leg at each time, removing the lacy fabric. She then swallowed thickly, anchoring herself to the same previous position, one leg seeking support in the lower ladders’ step. She opened her legs wide, pushing the fabric and baring herself to Azriel.

“I want you,” she said in a shaking voice. “Make love to me.” It was a feverish request in her tongue, but to Azriel's ears, it was a yielding command.

He was back at his rightful place the next second, touching her thighs with utter devotion. Azriel looked at Elain as he lowered his face towards her, giving her a gentle kiss, nothing but a brush of lips; both still with open eyes, scared to surrender to the heavy eyelids and had the moment stolen from them, vanished like sand between their fingertips. He fisted his cock twice, in a slow motion, all while holding her gaze hostage. He slid his length through her wetness, biting his lip to suppress the loud moan at the perfect sensation. His forehead met hers from above, and they both looked as he notched at her entrance. Elain was all supple limbs bellow him, the frenzy of the enormity of what they were about to make hitting them both.

Elain sucked a breath, her nails digging into his forearms as he pushed gently, entering her slowly, savoring the feeling greedily, inch by fucking inch. He stopped halfway through, breathing heavily, their foreheads still rolling lazily against each other, their gaze still locked on their connection, and Elain dug her nails deeper, silently urging him to continue the feverish torture. He pushed again, more forcefully, and when he was settled to the hilt, Elain sucked a ragged breath, turning her face in a rapid motion. Azriel froze, giving her time to adjust to the fullness of him. Her lovely, blushing face was only partly illuminated by the weak lighting, but Azriel saw her tearful eyes as she blinked rapidly, breathing deep, silently. She then looked at him, and there was passion but also pride in those beautiful brown eyes. She dragged her hand to his waist, pulling him to her, goading him, and he denied her no more.

His thrusts were slow and deep; his hands settled at her thighs, forcing her open with every motion of his hips. Elain’s head rested against the titles behind her, and her nails traced the inky swirls in his chest. Condensation rebounded from her skin back to him, making their skin gleaming with sweat. And when he hit the right spot inside her, Elain’s back arched as a broken gasp left her perfect lips. That sound was his lighthouse, guiding him towards her pleasure, so he angled his hips, hitting the same spot over and over again. Elain's shaking arms embraced his neck, and she dug her face into his shoulder as if she could hide from him.

“Look at me,” he said for the third time, desperately. She inclined her head, her nose brushing against his jaw. Their eyes locked, and Azriel thrusted harder, faster.

“Oh, Gods,” she sobbed, all supple, shaking body.

“Call me by my name, Elain,” he pleaded, his voice a growly mess. “Please,” he moaned.

“Azriel,” and it was the siren’s call, leading him to the edge.

“Again,” he rasped, hitting his forehead against the bookshelves, his hips increasing the rhythm on their own accord. He was purely instinct now, barely rational.

“A-Azriel, oh, Azriel,” and she stretched the first syllable of his name in the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

Craving more of that lovely sound, Azriel slid his arm under the one knee that was around his hips, his hand circling her wrist, and pulled her closer. Another plea with his name left her mouth, vibrating her entire body, her head falling behind her. Delighted with the silent offer, his mouth descended to her exposed neck, biting the salty skin. It was too much; the hill they were climbing together was too high, and he knew deep inside his immortal soul that once they reached the peak, he would be forever at her mercy.

Her walls tightened against him, and his groans were feral. Needing more, he hooked her other leg around his arm, holding both her wrists at her back. His free hand went to her perfect bottom, and he used her to slide up and down his length in a fierce motion. The wet, filthy noises of skin-to-skin ricocheted from the walls back to their ears, and when Azriel thought he couldn't take it anymore, Elain screamed against his neck. “Yes, sweetheart, fuck, fuck, Elain!” His hips lost rhythm, the pace uneven and uncoordinated when he felt the contractions of her climax, pushing him to the edge. He spilled inside her, long and hard, her name a plea in his tongue.

His breathing ragged, his legs faltered, and Azriel fell to his knees a second time that night. Carefully cradling her to him, he unhooked his arms from underneath her, and Elain embraced his waist with her legs, her arms circling his neck. He looked at her from below, his arms embracing her waist. Luminous. She was light itself. Azriel knew now that she was his new religion, his only Goddess, and that he would forever worship at her altar. Their mouths brushed in a devoting caress, sharing the same air, her breath hot on his damp lips.

“I love you,” she murmured above him, running her fingers through the hair at his nape. “I love you, Azriel,” she repeated.

Azriel had read the words in his books while studying the mortal’s culture and traditions. He knew the expression weighted heavily for humans, but he couldn’t fully understand the importance of the foreign words. So, he answered the only way he knew how.

“I am yours,” he placed her hand on his chest, on top of his heart. “And you are mine,” his hand was on her chest, then his thumb lightly brushed the damped skin. “Forever,” he vowed.

“Forever,” she prophesied, her eyes turning a murky white a brief second, but she blinked and then, it was gone.

Azriel felt it then, the heat underneath his palm pulsing at the same time the skin in his chest burned. He removed his hand to see the newly fresh ink marking Elain’s sternum. A rose covered with tendons of shadows. He didn’t need to look at his chest to know an equal pair was now displayed there. Elain’s fingertip brushed away a tear running down his cheek.

“Forever.”

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