#amber leaf price

[lwyikas]

Falling Leaves & K ft Akaashi Keiji

n:thank you to anon who requested,he's loml😭💗

Autumn was here, silently covering the around with a burming, calm breeze, dropping one leaf to the ground at a time. You wrapped your scarf tighter. You watch the last light of the day sink under the hills, cast long shadows on the amber striped sky, then you turn your gazes to hot mug in your hands and back to the environment you are.

Campus cafeteria is not too crowded, and the smell of coffee is thick in the air. You and Akaashi are sitting at a small table by the window. Outside, the leaves are turning in the cold breeze. As you sip your latte, Akaashi grimaces at a stack of work papers.

“honestly, I think these papers is starting to multiply. Every time I miss a glance, it doubles.”he groans, taking his head in his hands.

“That’s what you get for procrastinating,mr. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’. ” you hint, rummaging through your bag and pulling out a lipstick, refreshing your lips, that burgundy lipstick he adores. “Besides, I've heard that adding a little color helps with motivation” you gesture at to your lips.

“Do you think a kiss would give me some motivation?”

‘Depends. Will you at least stop complaining for five minutes?’

‘yeah for exactly four minutes and fifty-nine seconds’ he adds and sips his coffee.

‘Deal’ you lean over and kiss his cheek before he can react, a crimson lip print on his cheek, which he realizes but doesn't bother to wipe off, just a small smile.You glance at the books he takes out of his bag.

“Romeo and Juliet,Hamlet ,they're too well known, aren’t they? I thought you would add lesser-known books to this”

He picks up the papers in front of him and sends you an exasperated expression ‘I'm mess enough as it is and I prefer the cult works of the Shakespeare,they’re more easy to research’

"you're boring"

"I just don't want to spend too much time on an essay."”

"boring and indolent,noted"

"I'm starting to get offended,just letting you know"He rolls his eyes but can't help the slight smirk that appears on his lips. He puts down the pen in his hand and starts massaging his numb hand.

"Don't afraid, I still love you."

"thanks for your charity, how did I end up with someone that kindhearted?"he pins as he hands you a brownie from the plate in front of him.

‘My light probably blinded you. It's quite contagious’ you lean down and wipe the red kiss off his cheek “Just like this lipstick” he grabs your hand before you can pull it back and puts little kisses on your knuckles.

“So you called me here to help because you saw me as your personal Juliet?”

“No, you are quite talkative so i thought I won't get bored, but yeah you can be Juliet as well".”

“I don't think you'll ever be a Romeo, maybe a role in the evil Montaigne or Capulet families is more appropriate”You avert your eyes as you take another sip of your drink, you use the coffee mug to hide your smile, he's not the only one in this relationship who likes to mess with other in this relationship.

“You're right I'm definitely not Romeo, when I found love of my life I took action instead of watching her in the background like an idiot, I didn't wait for life to bring her to me,you can’t have some things without any try, it’s necessary to make an effort for valuable things” he takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a moment, then his smile suddenly turns serious.

“but if you ever consider me worthy of these weird bad roles again, I'm out.”

"I thought ‘weird’ was your middle name?"

“No, it's sarcasm”he grins, winks at you, and twirls your hair around his finger.

“Close enough”you grin and lean in for a kiss. “Then you'll have to pay a price to never worthy for these roles again”you whisper, he yawns and pulls back with a grin.

‘I have to finish my coffee first.’

While you roll your eyes in annoyance, he grabs the back of your head, pulls you to him,and your burgundy lipstick gets all over his warm lips ,where you can taste the coffee.

[mistydeyes]

perfumes i think the 141 boys enjoy

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summary: Scent is one of the most powerful senses, so what kind of fragrance do the 141 boys + Alejandro like on their significant other?

pairing: 141 x Reader

warnings: none

a/n - i also work for a perfume company so I've had a couple of ideas about what scents the boys like :)

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price - loves expensive, smokey scents on anyone. imagine the scents of a fresh cigar-that's what price wants in a fragrance. notes like pepper, leather, tobacco, cedar wood, and iris will make him crumble.

masculine

oud wood - tom ford notes: oud wood, sandalwood, chinese pepper

osmanthe kodoshan - maison crivelli notes: leather, tobacco, sichuan pepper, apricot, peach

functional fragrance - the nue co. notes: cardamom, iris, palo santo, cilantro

unisex

hinoki fantôme - boy smells notes: tobacco leaves, oak moss, and smoked leather

jazz club - maison marigela notes: pink pepper, rum, tobacco

lumière d’iris - veronique gabai notes: rose, iris, cedarwood, amber

feminine

baccarat rouge 540 - maison francis kurkdjia notes: jasmine, ambergris, saffron, cedar wood

cuir béluga - guerlain notes: leather, powder, vanilla

platinum 22 - floris london notes: rose, violet leaf, blackcurrant, oat, black tea

soap - woodsy, floral scents are soap's surprising pick. it brings back memories of the scottish countryside, adventuring in the woods and smelling the fresh flowers his mam had. notice notes of herbs (sage, rosemary, mint), lavender, and violet.

masculine

sauvage - dior notes: pepper, amberwood, bergamot, powder

h24 - hermès notes: clary sage, narcissus, rosewood

new york wall street - bond no.9 notes: sea kale, cucumber, lavender, ambergris, vetiver

unisex

voodoo chile - dries van noten notes: rosemary, patchouli, hemp

libre - yves saint laurent notes: lavender, musk

dirty grass - heretic notes: black pepper, lemon, hemp, violet

feminine

melancholy thistle - jo malone london notes: thistle, english ivy, cool wood

portrait of a lady - frédéric malle notes: frankincense, black currant, raspberry, patchouli

la tulipe - byredo notes: tulips, cyclamen, fressia, rhubarb

gaz - FLORAL CITRUS will make this man fall in love with you. it reminds him of a warm summer day sitting in the grass and smelling flowers. look for summery fragrances with notes of citrus, lemon, sage, and fresh herbs.

masculine

bleu de chanel - chanel notes: citrus, labdanum, sandalwood, cedar

polo black - ralph lauren notes: iced mango, lemon, tangerine, sandalwood, sage, patchouli

l'homme - yves saint laurent notes: bergamot, ginger, cedar wood, vetiver

unisex

cactus garden - louis vuitton notes: maté, bergamot, lemongrass

velvet cypress - dolce & gabbana notes: pine, lemon zest, bergamot, clary sage

eau de campagne - sisley notes: grass, citrus, herbs, jasmine, lily of the valley

feminine

brazilian crush cheirosa 62 - sol de janeiro notes: pistachio, almond, sandalwood, heliotrope, jasmine

her blossom - burberry notes: mandarin, plum blossom, sandalwood

flora gorgeous jasmine - gucci notes: mandarin, jasmine, magnolia, sandalwood

ghost - likes a light, musky scent! he loves when a scent adds to a person's natural smell (he hates sugary, gourmand scents). ingredients like musk, ambrox, pepper, sandalwood catch his eye as he pictures fresh sheets and a rainfall in a forest.

masculine

geranium pour monsieur - frédéric malle notes: mint, aniseed, sandalwood, geranium, frankincense

atlantis - blu atlas notes: orris, oak moss, violet, musk, ambrette seed

gentleman - givenchy notes: pear, lavender, patchouli

unisex

glossier you - glossier notes: pink pepper, iris, ambrette seeds, ambrox

not a perfume - juliette has a gun notes: ambergris

santal 33 - le labo notes: violet cardamom, cedar wood, iris, ambrox

feminine

missing person - phlur notes: musk, bergamot, jasmine, neroli, sandalwood

golden nectar - nest notes: florals, orchid, amber, musk

apollonia - xerjoff notes: white floral, orris butter, white musk

extra! alejandro - if ghost likes it simple and light, then alejandro is the exact opposite. he loves when he can smell someone's fragrance across the room. focus on bold fragrances with spicy notes of nutmeg, myrrh, and rum that is mixed with the gourmand of vanilla, almond, and tonka bean.

masculine

the last day of summer - gucci notes: cedarwood, cypress, nutmeg, patchouli, vetiver

bibliothèque - byredo notes: peach, peony, violet, leather, patchouli, vanilla

london myrrh & tonka - jo malone notes: almond, vanilla, myrrh, lavender, honey

unisex

tobacco vanille - tom ford notes: tonka bean, vanilla. cacao

dark rum - malin + goetz notes: anise, plum, leather, rum, patchouli, amber

tao dao - diptyque notes: sandalwood, cedar, cypress, myrte

feminine

lost cherry - tom ford notes: black cherry, tonka bean, almond

brazil aroma - costa notes: white jungle flora, orange oil, pink pepper, bourbon, vetiver, patchouli

babylon - penhaligon's notes: saffron, nutmeg, coriander, cedar wood, vanilla, cypriol

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[arcadiabaytornado]

Rachel Amber doesn't feel enough remorse for what she burns. She looks at the husk of a tree in the middle of a barren park and ignores the lingering smell of smoke. How can she pity a town that took her life from her? Her Father. Her Mother. All of it went up in flames. 

Maybe the only thing she's truly sorry about is that she doesn't know if she started the fire or if her fire consumed her. While she didn't mean for the whole stupid park to go "woosh" when the flames ate at the bark, she did nothing to extinguish the embers. Instead, she stood watching with a dark sense of justice that many would say wasn't justified.

Max Caulfield doesn't feel enough remorse for the storm she started. She looks at the remains of the lighthouse scattered on the isolated cliff and ignores the chill of rain stinging her skin. How can she pity a town that took so much? Her love of photography, her innocence, Kate, Rachel, Chloe. All of it blown away like it was only a leaf in the wind.

Maybe the only thing she's truly sorry about is that she doesn't know if she started the storm or if the slowly growing storm in her chest burst out and consumed everything in her path. While she never meant for the entire stupid town to get leveled when she twisted time between her fingers, she did nothing to unravel the fate she tangled. Instead, she stood watching with a dark sense of justice that many would say wasn't justified.

What many would say is that there's not much in common between the vibrant Rachel Amber and the meek Max Caulfield. Yet, if you asked Chloe Price who the expression on Max's face reminded her of as they watched the town burn...well...her answer would come a little too quickly.

[momo-no-tane]

Primaniacs has started accepting pre-orders for fragrances inspired by Shugo Chara!. They are scheduled to be shipped after August 1st, 2024.

The prices and fragrance notes are as follows (tax included):

Hinamori Amu Capacity: 30 ml Price: 6,600 yen

Top Notes: Cassis, Cassis Leaf

Middle Notes: Rose, Peony, Muguet

Last Notes: Musk, Raspberry

Tsukiyomi Ikuto Capacity: 30 ml Price: 6,600 yen

Top Notes: Grapefruit, Eucalyptus, Lime

Middle Notes: Geranium, Lavender, Jasmine, Cardamom

Last Notes: Vetiver, Musk, Sandalwood

Hoshina Utau Capacity: 30 ml Price: 6,600 yen

Top Notes: Lemon, Leaf Green

Middle Notes: Muguet, Jasmine, Lily, Lavender

Last Notes: Sandalwood, White Musk, Amber

Source: Primaniacs, X

[the-lonelybarricade]

The Asking Price - Azris Oneshot

“What’s the asking price,” I repeated. “The same thing I told Azriel when I found him snooping through my father’s woods yesterday.” - Acowar, Chapter 26 (Thank you @ofduskanddreams for pointing me to it!)

Summary: Azriel gets caught snooping through the Autumn Court woods

CW: Extremely Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, Restraints, Degredation, Wing play, rough oral sex

Read on AO3

-

In the last five centuries, Azriel had been to the Autumn Woods many times.

He knew the bends of the branches and each of the twisted roots well enough to glean familiarity out of the large tree beside him, seemingly identical to the ones that spread every direction for miles. Azriel had visited the Autumn Court for a variety of occasions, typically to keep an eye on the Vanserras and their ever shifting favors.

Yet it was never the memories of those trips that returned to him whenever he stepped foot on Autumn soil. Somehow, he always returned the same fledgling he was all those centuries ago, searching for the female he loved who had been left bleeding in the dirt. The taste of the crisp wind would always be laced with her pain, the changing leaves always colored with his rage. But it was the fear, most of all, that left him feeling unsteady. Even knowing what he knew now, that Mor was safe and had grown into a fearless warrior that was undefined by her past, Azriel could never seem to shake the panic thundering through his chest whenever he returned to Autumn.

“Shadowsinger.”

And there he was, lounging across a broad branch overhead, one arm tucked carelessly beneath his copped hair while the other drifted aimlessly towards the earth, stroking the breeze like it were his personal pet.

Azriel clenched his jaw. He didn’t know how Eris had discovered he was here—Rhysand wouldn’t have alerted him, not without telling Azriel first.

“Did you know,” Eris drawled, amber eyes tracking a leaf as it fluttered down from the canopy above, tumbling into his waiting palm, “that my hounds can sniff out any prey as far as the borders of these woods? After our last meeting—” the one where Cassian had put a sword through his gut— “I had them trained to detect Illyrian dogs. I had a feeling you’d be coming.”

Remember why you’re here, he told himself, fighting the snarl that threatened to curl over his lips.

“You want to know if I’ve told my father that your High Lady has taken a kernel of his magic.” Eris turned his head, studying Azriel in a way that drew out the rest of the snarl, regardless of Azriel’s best restraint. He hated how Eris could look at someone as if he were stripping them bare. When the Autumn Lord’s eyes dropped to Truth-Teller strapped at Azriel’s hip, he grinned. “And I suppose you brought that, in case I hadn’t. Intended to torture the memory out me?”

“You love to hear yourself speak,” Azriel said, reaching for the hilt of Truth-Teller instinctively.

A coil of flame curled around his wrist to stop him. Azriel’s siphon blared, prepared to cut through that flame, to meet the Autumn’s heir’s magic with equal might and power. Eris was not stronger than him, even here—

The shadows stirred, coiling around Azriel’s shoulder with urgency, but they were not fast enough. Azriel roared at the sharp pain that spiked through his thigh. The magic in his siphons fizzled to dust—poison. Faebane, perhaps, like Hybern favored in their weapons. Or something worse, a deadly concoction of Autumn’s own making. Azriel turned to track the archer that must have winnowed in, to have evaded his shadow’s notice, but flame pressed into his jaw. Not hot enough to burn, but enough to turn Azriel’s face back to Eris.

“None of that,” he crooned. “You and I have much to discuss.”

Fire spread over Azriel’s body, restraining his arms and legs so he could do nothing but watch as the Autumn lord sat up from the branch, jumping gracefully to his feet. A jungle cat advancing on its prey.

Then that flame against his jaw was replaced with Eris’s hand, the cool cut of his rings pressing uncomfortably into Azriel’s skin. He bared his teeth beneath the Lord’s unimpressed assessment.

“In private,” Eris added.

Azriel felt the fingers around his face tighten as they were enveloped in smoke. The air shifted first, replacing the chill damp of the forest with a pleasant, dry heat. Then he was deposited to his knees, none-too-gently, atop the wooden floorboards of what looked to be a sitting room.

“Welcome to my home, Shadowsinger,” Eris said. He offered a cruel smile. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Immediately, Azriel’s shadows swarmed and fled, taking this rare opportunity to explore the personal home of Eris Vanserra. The Autumn heir snorted, shaking his head so that a small strand of red hair flopped over his forehead. Azriel knew the shadows would find nothing of value—Eris had intended to take Azriel here, and there’s nothing he would have left for the Shadowsinger to discover that he didn’t want known.

“What do you want, Eris?”

Azriel kept his voice flat, refusing to betray a single emotion that might satisfy Eris. He hadn’t brought Azriel to the High Lord, which meant there was some angle he was working. Something ultimately self-serving, as all things were involving Eris.

“To talk,” Eris said, reaching for the hilt of Truth-Teller.

Azriel was still restrained by the male’s magic, could do nothing but growl, “Put that down.”

“Or you’ll what?” He asked, utterly unfazed by the warning in Azriel’s voice. The fire twisting around Azriel’s arms and legs constricted, holding him taut as Eris leaned closer, dancing the blade of the dagger across Azriel’s cheek. “Will you tell on me to Rhysand? Have him punish me for hurting his poor little Shadowsinger.”

He thrashed against his restraints, but stopped the minute he noticed the amused glint in Eris’s eyes. He wanted to see Azriel struggle, to witness the famed spymaster rage beneath his control. Azriel clenched his teeth, willing his body to still.

“Is that what you want to talk about, then?” Azriel asked coldly. “Rhysand?”

Eris stared down at Azriel knelt before him. His hand was still poised staunchly against Azriel’s chin, and his thumb swept over his cheek just the slightest bit, as though in consideration of the question.

“I want you to convince your High Lord to bargain with me,” Eris said finally.

“Ask him yourself.”

He spat the words, and Eris yanked him forward in response.

“Oh,” Eris whispered, his voice as sharp as the blade he trailed down Azriel’s throat. “I was intending to. But now that you’re here, it will be so much more entertaining to do it this way.”

Azriel’s pulse jumped. Not at Truth-Teller pressing into his skin, but at the gleam in Eris’s eyes.

“I heard a rumor once, about Illyrian males.” The blade traveled adjacent across his throat, threatening to break the delicate skin that he would not be able to heal. The arrow wound in his thigh pulsed, a dull ache that clashed with the strange exhilaration of danger, of anticipation. Of not knowing what torture Eris would be inflicting, despite torture being the language Azriel spoke more fluently than his mother’s native tongue.

The blade dragged backwards, over Azriel’s shoulder and the ridges of his spine.

“I heard that your wings are particularly sensitive.” Eris cocked his head, fire burning in his gaze as Truth-Teller’s razored edge danced along the base of Azriel’s wing. Teasing, taunting. Every muscle was begging Azriel to writhe against the flames containing him, to do everything he could to break free. He swallowed, unwilling to betray his anxiety at having his wings be touched—tortured.

“Shall we see if the rumors hold true?” Eris purred. Coaxing, but too chilled to belong to a lover.

Azriel shut his eyes. He had spoken to too many others with that same voice.

Cold metal dug harder into his cheeks where Eris’s hand still gripped him. Azriel resisted the urge to flinch as Eris said, “Look at me.”

A coward would keep his eyes shut. Azriel’s pride was the only thing he could still control, so he opened his eyes and met Eris’s cold stare. If he was looking for fear, for pain, they would be eclipsed by the rage and loathing simmering in Azriel’s gut.

Maybe Eris enjoyed the loathing just as much, because he smiled. “Good dog.”

The dagger teasing the base of his wing pressed forward, following the upward curve to trace his wing’s edge. Azriel’s hands turned to fists in the fiery restraints. Eris wasn’t pressing hard enough to cause any pain and instead… The shadowsinger huffed, struggling to control his breathing as the strangest, most reluctant sense of pleasure cascaded down his spine. Eris likely had no idea that a male’s wing was sensitive in this way. He thought he was teasing him with the threat of pain, but—

Azriel bit down on his lip to smother a groan. His cock was already twitching with interest, simply reacting to the way he was being unknowingly stimulated. It was natural, he told himself, trying to ignore the rising shame as he called his shadows back to disguise the scent of his arousal. Eris didn’t need to know what he was doing. No one ever needed to know.

“Would you like it harder?” Eris asked, no hint in his voice that he was aware of what he was truly inflicting on the Shadowsinger.

“Fuck you,” Azriel panted.

“Would you like to? You are already on your knees, afterall.”

No, Azriel swore, even as his cock continued hardening. Eris moved the blade downwards, over a particularly sensitive spot that made his wing twitch. A strangled noise rose in the back of Azriel’s throat as he thrashed blindly forward, desperate to escape the glorious edge of that knife. To free himself of the building need in his gut. This was so much worse than torture.

Eris noticed, of course. “Sensitive here, hmm?” He pressed the tip harder, causing Azriel to bark out a groan as his pleasure mixed with pain. “Look at you, the famed Shadowsinger, squirming on my floor and I haven’t even drawn blood.”

He continued ribboning the blade across that same spot, over and over, thinking he was causing pain each time Azriel gnashed his teeth and jerked his hips into cruel, empty air.

“Do you want me to stop?” The knife scraped closer to a spot that Azriel knew well. One that past lovers had discovered, where a few kitten licks were enough to push him to completion. He nearly felt like screaming to imagine how the hard metal would feel against it, cold and merciless.

“I’ll kill you,” Azriel swore, tasting blood as he choked on his own desire. It crawled along his chest, up his throat, and to his cheeks. Would Eris be able to see it, would he know that Azriel wasn’t flushing in anger?

“Says the male on his knees,” Eris hummed.

The serrated edges continued dragging against the gossamer of his wing, and Azriel hissed, spitting a string of curses in his mind as Eris arrived at that infernal spot and pushed, very nearly breaking this skin.

Fire enveloped him, shooting beneath Azriel’s skin in a molten tremor that seized his entire body, tightening every muscle. Eris must have seen the way he tensed, the way his wings tucked in as he came, cock shuddering as it erupted in his trousers. Azriel was panting, holding himself so still as he stared at Eris and Eris stared back. Gaping.

Then his eyes flickered downwards, to the wet leathers now sticking to Azriel’s crotch. The knife was still pressed to his wing, and Azriel was still achingly hard as the aftershocks continued throbbing through his cock.

Then, slowly, Eris’s shock was replaced with sinister delight. “How generous of me.” Truth-Teller began moving again, more deliberate now that Eris was aware of its effect. “Have you been enjoying yourself, Shadowsinger? Rutting against my floor like an animal?”

“Eris,” Azriel gasped, alarmed that the male would continue now that he knew he was pleasuring his captive. The air knocked from his lungs as Eris dropped the knife and began using his fingers instead. So much softer—so much warmer.

A moan warbled in the back of Azriel’s throat. There was nothing to contain it besides his own teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and even that wasn’t sufficient in barricading the noise.

“Cauldron, are you going to come again? Like a pathetic bitch in heat?”

Azriel struggled in the restraints. There was no use disguising his urgency to escape, now that Eris was aware of what he was doing. Now that he wanted to continue, was forcing more of that devastating pleasure to build with his delicious, clever fingers.

“Let me go.”

It did not sound as threatening as Azriel had hoped. Eris laughed, scraping his nails and those Cauldron-forsaken rings against the most delicate part of Azriel’s body. He keened, shifting his knees like he might try to crawl away, well aware there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

“Will you convince your High Lord to bargain with me?” Eris pressed.

“Get fucked.”

Another laugh. “That’s you, Azriel.”

Azriel’s chest was heaving, hips bucking just as pathetically as Eris had accused. The male continued his assault on Azriel’s wings, intent on forcing another moan. There was nothing Azriel could do to stop the onslaught of bright, blistering pleasure. He cried out as that burning shot to his aching cock, spilling more warm, sticky spend into his trousers. It was humiliating, especially as Eris watched it all with a smile.

“Shall we do it again, Shadowsinger?”

Eris’s fingers were already moving. Azriel, who had never before broken under torture, whimpered. The male above him groaned, and Azriel realized belatedly that he was not the only one with a hardened cock.

Fingers fisted roughly in his hair. Eris must have noticed the Shadowsinger’s attention drift to the erection in front of his face, because he drew Azriel closer. Until his lips nearly brushed the stretched fabric. “Or would you prefer to suck?”

Azriel didn’t think his pride could survive orgasming beneath Eris’s touch a third time. At least if he sucked cock, he would be the one with some measure of control. Inflicting pleasure, instead of taking it.

Rather than speak, which would only add to his disgrace, Azriel simply opened his mouth. Eris needed no further prompting. He released Azriel’s wing to unlace his trousers, at which the Illyrian slumped forward in abject relief.

Until Eris stepped out of his trousers and revealed the large, flushed cock presented before him. The tip was already beaded with arousal, glinting beneath the afternoon sun that filtered in through the windows.

Eris fisted himself, taking a few slow pumps as Azriel watched, feeling his heartbeat in his throat. There was something undeniably fascinating about it. Seeing Eris naked, almost vulnerable. Though no one would think it by the darkness stirring in his eyes.

“Now open that filthy mouth,” Eris said, stepping closer. His hands slid into Azriel’s hair again. “Show me how a good Illyrian dog obeys its master.”

Loathing churned deep and low inside Azriel, utterly in contrast to the arousal clashing against it. Impossibly, Azriel opened his mouth, allowing Eris to push the head of his cock against Azriel’s tongue. His taste was salty, masculine, but otherwise not unpleasant.

Eris allowed him only that moment to savor the taste, before his fingers wound into Azriel’s hair, tugging his head forward at the same time Eris thrust his hips. Azriel choked at the unexpected intrusion, not anticipating that he would be taking so much of the male so fast.

“What’s that?” Eris asked at Azriel’s garbled protests. “Don’t sputter like that, Azriel. I expected Rhysand to have you better trained.”

It wasn’t as though it was the first time he’d sucked cock, but it had been a while since Azriel had gotten on his knees before another male. There was no shred of the control Azriel had been hoping to seize, and yet… there was almost something relieving about that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to surrender so fully to another being.

“Good boy,” Eris grunted when Azriel forced his throat to relax. The backs of his eyes burned, but Azriel opened them wide, refusing to let Eris see him so undone. The Autumn male’s pace was punishing, fucking into Azriel’s mouth until he stopped struggling. “Such a good fucktoy,” Eris crooned as his reward. “I can see why they keep you around.”

Eris pulled harder on Azriel’s hair, until the Shadowsinger felt his nose brush the coarse red hair at the base of Eris’s pelvis. Eris groaned, holding Azriel there for several punishing seconds as the male’s cock twitched. Azriel heard a soft, almost surrendered sigh in the shape of his name, which was quickly overwhelmed by the bitter taste of arousal flooding Azriel’s mouth. Warm liquid trickled down his throat, and Azriel found himself swallowing when he knew he should be spitting it back at Eris’s face.

He was kept there, in Eris’s tight grip with his lips pressed to the base of his cock, even as Eris began to soften.

Meeting his eyes, Eris raised his freehand, tapping it to his own temple. “Now I have two memories and two High Lords you would prefer to remain ignorant. Convince Rhysand to help me take the throne, or I’ll let him see how enthusiastically his Spymaster sucks Autumn cock.”

Finally, he released Azriel, allowing the shadowsinger to pull his mouth free.

Azriel coughed, re-adjusting to the sensation of breathing unobstructed. His voice was raspy as he spat, “Go to Hell, Eris.”

The male merely shrugged, gesturing to the Autumn wood just outside the window. “I’m already there.”