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pranabefall · 4 days ago

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⠀⠀QINGXIN IN THE MOUNTAIN.⠀⠀⸺ ⠀⠀zhongli.

syn. while the divine war rages on, you find yourself entangled in the company of a wounded god and reservations or not, you don't have the heart to let someone die on your watch.

TW. ⸺ beta read, long oneshot like seriously it's over 14k, mentions of war and past death, seclusion and wounds. this work contains 18+ contents so minors, you know the drill, unprotected sex, half-dragon zhongli, reader has no gendered pronouns but has female parts, 4k words worth of smut guys get ready.

LOG. ⸺ this is another repost of this fic after my old account got deleted on accident. taken from my old blog lol, a buffer as i work on my current wip XD. this work has been marked mature for containing smut. readers below the age of 18 / ageless blogs and antis, do not interact.

“i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”

— PABLO NERUDA.

Curiosity , you learned, was a reckless maverick in every right. Your mother told you of its consequences, of the people who wandered too far from the safety of your village and the watchful eye of your deity, and she told you of their death and the disaster they reaped alongside it.

Curiosity was what cost you — and you knew , you knew better than to indulge in its traitorous little tug when you wake, the scent of petrichor in abundance and the chill of a rainstorm’s aftermath prickling your skin.

“Forget about it.” you tell yourself when you rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Forget about it.” you tell the reflection staring up at you, her brows furrowed with a familiar sternness. It scatters when you dip your hands into the basin, the icy water stinging your fingertips.

“Forget about it.” you breathe out as you lean against the doorframe of your small home, staring out at the expanse of green and the fog that had settled a few feet below.

Yet here you were , scaling down a mossy slope, your bare feet damp from the dew it trod over and your hair still messy from your sleep. You could dimly recall something the previous night between the rains, between the crash of thunder and the crackle of lightning. It was a sound too distinct and out of place in a storm, something akin to the beginnings of an earthquake before an unknown force cuts its life short.

Your head swivels to the side. You couldn’t see much past the mist save for what was in front of you and you clamber down with a little more prudence till the ground evens out a bit more and the screen before you dissipates. You could see nothing out of place, save for a few upturned trees and your shoulders slump. It was all for nothing , you realize and a tinier voice dares to whisper a spiteful little ‘dammit’ .

You turn, casting one last glance over the clearing, then make your way back uphill. It was a wasted attempt and as you stew in your own self-berating and disappointment, you almost miss the faint crackle behind you. It was just the wind , you reason. There was little cause for it to be anything else. What could possibly make its way up here ?

When you hear it a second time, you freeze, something cold jolting at your bones.

Well shit .

It doesn’t take too long to find the source, save for trudging through the mud and a few of the murkier parts past the tree line — but you find it by the time the sun shifts the barest fraction to the west..

“ Ah — ” was the most your throat could choke out as shock swallowed you whole, like ice water.

There is a trail of gold on the earth, and it leads up to the slumped form of a man, his robes stained with the same gilted shade and his breath leaving shallow puffs of air where he lay, motionless and seemingly dead.

Well — fucking — shit . You mind shudders, your thoughts screaming and splitting up against your head like some panicked beast. It was chaos at its core, it was the frenzied scrape of control.

You were no fool. The man before you, both massive in frame and presence, was one amongst the hundreds of those touched by divinity — god or not — whose names were uttered and praised amidst this war. There was nothing distinctly human about him; not his clothes, not the horns that curled atop his skull and the brown scales smattered across, not the ichor he bled out — nothing .

For a moment, or maybe more, you stare down at him, long and hard as you try to wrangle your rationality back and think of what move to make. You could not afford the trouble that comes with aiding a foreign being and the land you settled on could house any force hostile to the man at your feet. A shaky breath escapes, then another. You were trembling now, just a little, daring to take a step back, then one more.

Kill him , another voice snaps. It was twisted and its words breathed acrid revulsion. Get it over with, he’s not worth the pain.

You consider it, for the tiniest bit of a second till he lets out a shudder and shifts with tense shoulders, his grunts labored and streaked with muted agony — those darker thoughts quickly flatline to scattered anxiety and the hand that brushes the blade at your hip falls limp. Not now, perhaps . You could just leave him here, let nature run its course.

You could do that , you decide with a semblance of confidence.

Of course you could.

Of course .

Your shuffling comes to a stop and you're backtracking immediately, your pace holding an urgent bounce with every step. There is a feverish jerk to your movements when you settle beside him, and a storm of emotions raging in your chest. It does little to ease you — little does, these days — and you press up on his shoulders in an attempt to roll him over onto his back.

It happens so swiftly, a blur of gold and black that shadowed your periphery before you were slammed down with eyes like uncut cor lapis glaring down at you. You scramble, clawing at your neck, at the digits pressed up against your windpipe and your pulse and it beats faster and faster and faster . One tiny move and you’d be left for dead.

( A part of you is stunned — for even wounded and weakened from some unknown, unspoken battle, the quavering power within him seemed to beat strong. You feel a mix of thrilled awe and terror turn in your stomach. )

His gaze hardly falters, roving at your form before his grasp on you releases and he mutters something akin to an apology, collapsing again. His eyes were still open, watching you beneath a haze of pain and deliriousness, stiffening now and then when you so much as move. The strength he showed, no matter how small it was, is gone and there is the slightest hint of vulnerability beneath the stripped layers of stone.

Your instincts scream at you to run yet you stay rooted in place, coming to sit up and hover by his side. In the end, your own concern and pity won out. “Y-you’re wounded.” you try to reason, only to be met with a grunt. You find yourself wincing as you stutter over your words, your voice hoarse from months of disuse. “Please, l-let me help. My h-home is c-close b-by.”

Feeble , you chide yourself amidst it all, old, old regrets tearing at your mind and clawing at your thoughts. You shut your eyes, letting your muscles relax and you try again.

Tugging at his arm serves to be fruitless. He was too large for you to carry over and your first attempt gives that away well enough. The gold in his veins seems to dim with the passage of time and you fear his life slipping away under your watch. “I n-need you to w-walk…” your plea is almost caught in your throat and you have to wrench it out to let it be heard. He tilts his head your way. “You’re too h-heavy…” you try to reason.

Another grunt sounds out and thankfully , his form rises. You’re quick to move to his side, supporting him against your shoulder, the thrum of elemental energy strong beneath your hold. He practically oozed it and it feels like what the storm felt like — the trembling earth itself.

You don’t say much after that, leading him back to your home, your hand and clothes staining a bright gold.

Perhaps your house would have been a little cleaner had you known you’d have a guest over. When you lead the the being inside, you scan the small space with a sense of perplexity, hoping he wouldn’t scrutinize the sight too much ( your mother always seemed to emphasize the need for a well kept living space — should she see you now, you know she’d be rolling in her grave with indignity ).

He stumbles a little, letting out a guttural snarl and you flinch, almost dropping his weight onto the floor when you feel claws close down on your arm and press against your scarred skin. You hiss softly and he gives a little jolt, his hold on you releasing, leaving little but the crumpled sleeve of your tunic behind.

“How much — ” he cannot finish the sentence, his nose wrinkling up and he almost looks a little feral underneath the light.

“Just a l-little more.” you assure, cracking the barest of smiles as you cross the room and lay him down on your bedroll. He was tall enough as is, and you think his horns would scrape up against the ceiling of this house should he stand upright.

The bedroll itself was pathetically small beneath him, but you couldn’t throw a fuss about it, working away at his clothes in relative silence, steeling yourself up in preparation for the worst.

The clasps and the belts and sashes are undone by nimble fingers and as the layers peel away, you come to a stop. It was not a pretty sight, his wounds, the clawed lacerations criss crossing across his torso like patchwork. You doubt you could salvage much and you almost give up at the spot, pulling away the rest of his clothing. The worst one splits across his chest and you look to the side, battling out the vertigo and the nausea threatening to creep up.

He’d have been dead at this point, had the blood in his veins be that of a mortal’s and not something inhuman. In some convoluted sense, he was lucky.

Stop cowering , you hiss internally. Pull yourself together .

The sound of rustling clothes is all you could hear after, followed by the clinking of metal and the sharp tang of alcohol. Your movements are almost robotic — and you had done this plenty of times before, cleaning the wounds of children and soldiers. But this wasn’t home and you doubt any soothing words would stoke at the feelings of a god.

When you return to his side, his forehead is damp with sweat.

“ Shit — ”

His skin was warm . Could an immortal being fall ill? Was that even a possibility?

“I will be fine.” he rasps out and you jump, snapping his way as you hold the clothes closer to your chest in defense. He turns his head, peering at you and you think you see a stubborn glimmer beneath the usual masked strain and impassivity. “My wounds will heal in time…I…only seek shelter till they do…”

“Absolutely n-not.” you reply, splaying your palm out on his stomach to keep him still as you clean away the dirt and dried blood. The shallower wounds were slowly closing up again. “You’re in no state to argue right now.”

His mouth twitches and there is a momentary flash of teeth. You try not to let it frazzle you as much despite his initial protest, your movements slowing to a more delicate pace as you bathe the worst of his lesions till you were satisfied with the lack of dirt caking his body. “It seems choice no longer holds to be a luxury.” he utters under his breath.

“No.” you agree. “It does not.”

He falls silent, a petulant turn on his lips. “Are you a healer?” he asks. You bow down, unwinding the linen wraps you had stored away.

“My mother was.” you finally admit, your posture straightening. “I learned what I could from her to aid the people in my village. I never studied medicine formally, however…” you trail off. Talking seems to grow a little easier the more you speak. The hoarseness was slowly giving way and your stuttering grew less frequent.

“And I take it you shall try to help me as you do with any other human?” there was a sardonic sort of amusement in his tone that has you bristling. “Your medicines and methods will not work on an Adeptus. Put your tools away, you only waste your time.

“Adeptus…so you hail from the settlement south of Mt. Tianheng?”

“You’re ignoring my words,” he accuses. You bat your lashes at him innocently.

“Small talk.” you shrug. “You can tell me everything you want after I’m done tending to you.” you meet his gaze, tumultuous gold melded with an orange-red. He narrows his eyes, his unfocused vision scanning you, then the house, then at the bandages you held before he leans his head back with a defeated sigh.

By the time you conclude your task, he has fallen unconscious, his breathing deep and his heartbeat unnaturally slow for a human. You look down at your ruined clothing, at the stains at the hem of your tunic and at the sleeves and you hope you can salvage what you can from this, moving on to change out of them and fish out a cleaner pair of clothes.

The smell of petrichor still persists through the day, the sky brewing with the makings of a new storm. Perhaps you had lost track of time and the monsoons were sitting in sooner than expected and you move on to salvage whatever you’d left outside to dry and board your windows up for the incoming onslaught.

The man wakes when night falls, form set aglow against the dim lamp light.

“Let’s change your bandages.” you offer. He doesn’t protest this time, painfully sitting himself up with gritted teeth as you get back to work. His skin still radiates that uncomfortable temperature as you press up against it. You might need to get a wet rag ready lest he overheats

He speaks after the silence persists. “You shouldn’t see me like this.” it comes out as a whisper so soft, you almost miss it. His face however holds a distant look, with a hint of disappointment lurking within and you tug at the linen a little harder. You’ve heard that before, from the lips of men and women who had too much to hold and little weakness to show. You wonder what it would entail for a warrior, or a being whose years spanned farther than yours, to sink as low before a stranger.

It must be hard.

“We all get hurt sometimes.” you smile, hoping to lighten the air with a bit of humor ( it was getting too heavy, the air in the room ). “I’ve lost count of the number of times I've hit my head…and you think I'd be a little more cautious given my studies…”

A poor joke stays a poor joke no matter the delivery ( and yours was weak to begin with ). He does not say or do much, save for a slight twitch in his jaw and an unamused tilt in his head. You shrink back, skittishly throwing his used bandages aside in favor of new ones with a hasty “Nevermind.” on your tongue.

“Do you truely not know who I am?” he asks, his touch skimming the sheets absently. You shake your head, confusion and that damned curiosity slowly lurking and clawing its way to the light. You want to stamp the ugly feeling down and out of sight. You try to. It does not disappear. He continues, “What of the civilization south of Tianheng?”

A shrug was the most you could manage. You guess that was where he hails from. “I know it’s the domain of a geo god, and that beings touched by longevity, ally beside him. “My old home is far, however, and our god hid us away from the world…my knowledge on this is sparse.”

You’re almost ashamed to admit it, to acknowledge the bubble you had grown within, accepting the suffering of the men and women who ventured out and returned with broken bodies you and your mother had to fix. You weren’t sure what sort of terrible dichotomy it was, to live in ignorance amidst blatant horror and blood, and you don’t wish to return to it.

He seems to take this in, his eyes training up at the ceiling, then upon you with a lidded stare. “Who was your god?”

The icy set to your jaw was a hint he picks up on and he does not further the topic.

“...I am from there…from Liyue.” he says instead, in recollection of your previous question. The settlement was a distance from here, a few days worth of journeying by cart and hardly worth the risk of the travel with the demons that lurk and the gods that warred.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

His lips curl again, but it’s less of a grimace and more of a smile, his fangs tucked away to show a visage less feral, less dangerous. You find yourself relaxing a bit more unconsciously, seemingly charmed by this simple action ( and the thought almost scares you ). “What is your name, mortal?”

Ah, he wasn’t going to make this easy. You’re tempted to tug on his bandages a little harder if only to spite him.

You don’t reply till you are done with your chore and you lean back, massaging your stiff fingers. Your name slips out of your lips then, the action feeling natural in defiance of the years spent hardly having a friendly face within your home, save the occasional traveler. The adeptus seems satisfied. “You may call me Zhongli.” he replies, his voice softer, raspier.

“Zhongli.” you repeat. Zhongli .

There is a rustle of fabric and his fingertips brush against yours, the touch nearly having your arm lurch back in muted shock. He seems unphased but you — you watch a soft light shimmer through the dimness of your walls. When it fades, a single visage of gold stares back.

“It’s your reward. For aiding me.” there is a medley of pride and contentment and you liken it to that of a child offering a messily put together gift. Gold is coveted by most, but has little use here, and you have little use for it. But the gift is still cupped within your hands and you hold it as if it is something precious.

( Oh, your heart trembled just a bit and you feel a lump grow in your throat, bigger and bigger till you dip your head down out of his line of sight. )

His eyes bear down on you harder, set aglow and unyielding.

You smile to hide your trembling frame, thoughts revolting within your mind like the beat of war drums with a mix of unease and appreciation. Yet, who were you to question Zhongli’s secrets?

Maybe hypocrisy runs deeper in your blood than you initially assumed.

Mist dances at your fingertips.

It weaves and spreads and obscures the light and the woods around you and you run through blindly as the skin beneath your feet tears and the chill of the night clings to your skin and leaves behind dew and sweat.

You could see nothing; nothing save the pale glow of the moon above you as it tries to break through the barrier and light your way. It cannot, for Balam’s magic conjures obscurity, and obscurity was worshiped.

But you were human and you were curious and the voice that called your name was so familiar and warm and you wanted to weep and run towards it. The mist will not stop your folly and you will keep running to appease that growing thirst. In the end it will cost you.

The sound of your footsteps cease. The mist thins out and at the end of the veil, you poke your head out for the first time to witness the world outside. A set of teeth, white and sharp greet you. Then another and another, till the darkness itself glows as it does beneath the moonlight.

You hear her voice. It comes from the open maw.

The demons spot you and you run again, feeling their jaws clamp down and tear through muscle and bone and you scream and scream and scream at the white hot agony and the very feeling of your nerves set aflame before they numb.

Your curiosity cost you.

You wake to your fingers clawing at your shoulder with labored gasps and Zhongli panting, his fingers gripping at the sheets of the bedroll and his brow furrowed. You blink away the sleep in your eyes and tug the blanket off of your shoulders, shakily making your way to his side. His skin was hot again and panic lights in your chest, like the incoming winter.

“Fuck — it’s gotten worse.” you mumble a few more expletives as you stumble out to collect some more water and the few mistflower corollas you had stored away within your cabinets, hoping the elemental energy in them hadn’t dissipated completely. Setting the bucket down by his bedside with the corollas nestled within, you hiss at the cold pricking your palms and the frostbite coming to form.

Never mind that! The fucking adeptus is going to melt .

Oh my, thank you for pointing out the obvious!

The cloth bath was set to a near feverish pace as you feel him twitch and convulse through the chills wracking his body. “Hot — ” he groans.

“It’s the fever.” you mutter, tugging his pants down, your eyes unconsciously trailing down the slope of his waist and dip of pelvis, then avert your eyes before you could see any more, face flushed whilst a cloth was thrown onto his hips to spare him some decency. “You need to cool down…please, stay still.”

His hand comes to grip your arm and the dormant strength within it, one etched into his very being, was frightening. The adeptus’ sights were set upon you, the fever-addled state of his blowing his pupils out till only a thin ring of gold remains, shining through the light of the oil lamp, brighter and brighter. You pull away and rest your free hand on his with a soothing squeeze.

“You will be okay.” you assure. “It will come to pass soon enough. Let me take care of you for now.” You coax him to stay still as you continue the cloth bath, wiping away at his clammy skin while fatigue continues to weigh down on your shoulders and tug at your eyes. “I know you’re hiding something…and if you…if you’re one of the gods, then you must live. You’ll have people waiting for you…they need you, at a time like this.”

He lets out a weak exhale, shakily sitting himself up with sudden urgency. “ Liyue… ” he whispers, gait faltering and you steady him as he leans into you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You struggle to push him back down atop the bedroll, his breaths growing pained with the passing seconds.

“Liyue.” you nod and repeat. “You need to go back soon, don’t you? You’ll have to heal first, and for that, you must rest.” The cloth is pressed against his temple now, wiping away sweat all while the smell of petrichor grows stronger. The searing temperature hasn’t subsided and hopelessness stirs inside, an ugly feeling, a familiar feeling ( it was worse than your curiosity — it always was ).

Zhongli leans into your touch, his fingers tangling against yours. “ Stay… ” he whispers. You cease your movement as his body shifts and presses against your lap. “Stay….” he repeats.

“I…I’ll stay.” you slump in defeat, resting his head on your lap. Lightning flashes outside your window and the walls seem to shake as the rain comes pelting down. You continue the bath, listening to a leaky spot in your roof and the incessant downpour rattling against the tiles. Zhongli seems to still, his breaths still weighed down by that terrible heaviness.

The rain continues. His fever grows worse.

Then the pattering slows down, and the flush on his skin comes to cool. By the time the rains stop, his fever breaks and you lean against the wall of your home, shutting your eyes as you nearly weep, your worries allayed.

Morax was the first to wake in the early hours of the morning, the scent of petrichor pervading his senses followed by the faint lull of jasmine. Then comes the warmth and the softness, one his claws unconsciously dig into with a groan shuddering out of his chest.

It was you , slumped against the wall, lost in your own dreams and too tired to notice and the sight makes him swell with a conflicting mess of emotion. Then comes the pain, the aftermath of his fever coming to tear at him, at his limbs and his tendons till he ceases his stubborn movement and lets his body fall slack.

He does not understand your intent, but the faint memory of that familiar care against a muddled haze stills his tongue and his suspicion. Your muffled words, your hand in his, everything, blurred away yet so clear.

Humans were strange, so fragile, so determined…

“Fool…” he murmurs. The last of his strength is used to draw the blanket over your shoulders. “But thank you, nonetheless.” Sleep calls him again, and Morax shuts his eyes.

The jasmine lingers, stronger than most. He lets it swallow him whole.

You come to realize how much you hated it, the loneliness.

Your home was far removed from civilization, settled between regions and away from main travel ways that weren’t blocked or destroyed. The quiet of your house was nothing like the bustle of the town you hailed from and the chaos that accompanies the stalls in the early mornings. The most noise that encloses your small plot of land were the local wildlife, the creaks and groans of wood born against strong winds and the weight of snow and the distant battles fought over the horizon.

During arbitrary moments of your routine, you question why Zhongli landed here of all places, in the midst of nowhere. You wonder if this is some grand scheme or punishment for your past mistakes and when you feel your curiosity dare to skitter forth and poke more holes into your blind acceptance, you drive it away with an angry hiss.

He is not an unwelcome guest, even if he holds a sense of urgency at times and a well kept secret whose nature you suspect . It’s almost comforting, no matter how contrived it seems, listening to him speak of an obscure plant or hearing his heavy footfalls a few days after his arrival.

How desperate are you? The bitter pride in your heart speaks up, and it’s seedy and unhappy as you straighten out the drying sheets over the heated slab. Where is your self preservation? Your brain cells? You’re smarter than this you fool —

“Is something wrong?”

Zhongli’s voice snaps you out of your reverie and you start, nearly dropping your laundry on the grass.

“Nothing!” and it is a weak save on your part as you straighten the worn down basket to move to an empty patch of stone, ducking under to check the state of the flaming flowers underneath. His hands come to rest on the surface and he lets out a soft exhale, his eyes slipping shut in a seeming moment of peace. “You should be resting.” you remind him.

“I believe I'm past the need for excessive bedrest.” he intones with an amused lilt. “Do you need help? It is partly my fault you have far more work to sort through.” He wasn’t lying. What little linen you had was used up to change the sheets on your bedroll before his fever broke. You had little clue how illness amongst higher beings were treated, but simply washing the contaminated cloth was the best option you had on your for now.

Ah, sometimes you regret not moving closer to a town.

Your reply was short, when you notice the silence being drawn out for a little too long. “That does not mean you should strain yourself. The less of a load you place on yourself, the faster you will heal. I’m sure you are needed back at your colony. The war is far from over.”

The comment seems to tug at his emotions, a stern moroseness settling on his face. “That is true…but I trust my fellow adepti to hold the lines in my absence.” you bend over to collect another sheet from the basket, the hair at the back of your neck prickling when he moves behind you. “Even so, I should hasten my return.”

“Then — ” The sheet is snatched from your hands and you watch Zhongli step beside an unused slab to lay it across the surface, a mischievous smile touching his lips. “Oi!” you snap, reaching out to grab it.

“However,” he continues, ignoring your protest with a look of innocent serenity. You want to squawk, to stamp your foot down childishly and you almost do, your movements stilled by you clenching your fist to curb it. “I’ve fought battles with wounds far worse and won. Menial chores are hardly a labor and if it means aiding you then I shall take it.”

You let out a groan in defeat and push the basket between the two of you. Zhongli was preening in his small victory, setting the clothes out to dry with relative ease. “Guests shouldn’t partake in chores like these.” you repeat the line your mother had uttered so many times, one amongst many of her favorite maxims.

He watches you from his spot behind the stone slab, a contemplative haze clouding his hues. “I simply return the favor. It is the nature of a contract, to balance out what is given with due compensation.”

He isn’t going to let up, is he?

“Fine, fine…you can help me collect a few mist flowers later.” you concede.

“What do you need them for?” he asks, collecting your laundry basket as you kneel upon the grass, blowing some air into a patch. One of the flowers is set alight and you sigh, letting them burn awhile as you feel your fingers retain a little more warmth in them.

“Preservation…I use them to make my herbs and food last a little longer…it’s not easy, coming across certain ingredients for a decent meal…” You let out a dry chuckle at that, which melts away into a mildly sheepish one. Even if you bear a slight annoyance to your choice of settlement, and even with the debilitating isolation that came with it — it was still home and it was still safer than most.

Zhongli takes this in, a hand resting against his chin. “I see…cooking is not a part of my skill set…unfortunately. But a friend of mine intends on relaying an old recipe of his should the war end soon. Perhaps I could pass it on to you, if you don’t mind it.”

It was an oddly sweet gesture coming from him and you hum, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you consider it. That also meant opening a tiny window of opportunity; a chance that you may see Zhongli again. The thought stirs a clash of emotion, of fear and of excitement and dare you say it, hope and it feels warm and cold and all sorts of things at once. “I’d like that…granted you don’t accidentally poison me.”

He feigns annoyance as his head tilts to the side, quietly regarding you. “You overestimate my inadequacy. The last time I did partake in the culinary arts, the worst outcome was an offhand crystallize reaction and a burnt stove.” he pauses. “Besides, my skill in brewing tea is decent.”

Oh Gods —

“I’m just being cautious.” you laugh a little louder at that, holding up your hands in defense. “Dear Lords though…I hope that friend of yours is prepared then. You might turn out to be a genius in cuisine or a hopeless case.”

“Then I hope for the former.”

You grin, hanging up the last of your clothes. “If you turn out decent…then I wouldn’t mind sharing some of the recipes passed down to me. I couldn’t indulge myself in them as much, but i hope you may come to like them.”

Something in Zhongli’s eyes softens and he nods. “And I would like that in turn…” he utters slowly, watching you clear away any dry branches and grass close by. His fingers absently brush over his torso, where the bandages stay wrapped around him. You catch the subtle purse of his lips and the twinge in his jaw. “Do not be concerned…” he snaps up to meet your worried face. “I am fine.”

“...Right.” you knew it wasn’t wholly a lie. Zhongli proved to be a quick healer, perhaps a trait passed down by his inhuman lineage. But these displays of vulnerability only played into the damning knowledge you knew before; of the hidden fragility the gods held. “Come on…I think it’s time we get those bandages changed.”

Zhongli smiles but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Another secret , you think sadly, taking his hand as you lead him inside, taking in the momentary warmth he held even if his skin didn’t quite feel like skin or that they glowed a bit too bright between the cracks of your fingers.

You don’t ask him to collect the mist flower corollas again, staying at home with him with some tea set at the table for him to sip on while you inspect his lacerations. There was some idle chatter over dinner and Zhongli spoke a little more about his home.

“You’re going to leave tonight, aren’t you?” you ask suddenly, your voice soft. His words die out and you try to still the sharp edged pain in your chest. It refuses to fade and you accept the growing weight with an unwilling gait.

“Yes.” he whispers, setting his cup down and he looks ashamed.

“Then go.” you mumble. He opens his mouth again but you hold up a hand. “I…I know your name is not really Zhongli…it’s not is it?” His silence was damning and you finally piece it together, the knowledge you learned from your village and from your travels, no matter how meager, painting a slow picture in broad strokes.

The stories depict Morax to be more of a beast and less of a man. You would have glossed over it as well,expecting a dragon instead of the visage of a handsome stranger.

“I take it you’ve come to a conclusion.” he muses, looking a little apologetic, a little ashamed. “I never intended on deceit but the nature of our meeting called for it.”

“You were afraid I was going to kill you?” you guess. Zhongli — Morax laughs and shakes his head.

“Even in my weakened state, you would have been incapable of it.” well damn . “I feared someone of greater power would catch wind of talk of a wounded god…but given your lifestyle, they held no merit. I apologize though…I know you may have suspected a while.”

Morax smiles and you try not to battle the disbelief that a good sat across you, eating your food and drinking your tea. “However, I have a question to ask you.”

A pause

“What became of your deity?”

Your breath seizes and you meet his gaze. His stare seems to hold so much more weight to it and you look down. Your old god was a memory you sought to bury away well out of sight. Recollecting them only brought in a bitter taste and a dull ache and Morax notices it. “That’s a story for another day.” you finally manage out after some deliberation. Your tea has gone cold by the time you take another sip out of it, the air feeling heavier again. You wrinkle your nose at the taste.

He nods. “Then I will return and pay my debt in whole as well.” he decides. “Your kindness is one I shall remember, little one.” You hate how a part of you melts into this buttery, weak mess and when he smiles, you hate how it’s so easy to feel yourself tear at the seams, to beg him to stay a little longer. “Thank you.”

He was gone the next morning, a fresh batch of mist flower corollas left behind in an earthen pot alongside a delicate flower preserved in amber.

“Good riddance.” you tell yourself, the words feeling forced.

You will miss him, you think.

He returns three months later, or maybe it was more. Time was easy to lose track of and the seasons were all you had to know of a passing year. By the time he arrived, the last remnants of winter had receded and you found yourself in the midst of spring, restocking your stores and setting soup to boil in the hearth.

Should I bow? You think when he appears at your doorstep. Extend a greeting? Address him by his title? Your great eminence…no that sounds pretentious… You reminisce about your old customs, of the times you spent watching your mother lay out scented flowers and fruits at the feet of your deity during festivals or during victory feasts. Morax however, steps inside with a smile in greeting, his hand coming to tuck some stray hair out of your face.

Then comes the deja vu.

You question why his arrivals were always timed on days when your home was a mess.

“Wait! We can talk outside.” saving the last few traces of your dignity is all you had in mind as you blockade the entrance. It would hardly do any good, you realize then; he was tall and he was far bigger and when he stops with a puzzled look and scans the room and the traces of stalks and unswept and unused parts of the herbs you were sifting through, a glint of understanding flashes in his eyes and he steps back.

You want to sink into the ground with the traces and remainders of you. Oblivion seemed a tempting option with the way your face burned and your heart hammers at a pace nearly hard to keep up with.

“My apologies.” he utters, letting you lead him outside. He does not seem as bothered or flustered, thankfully; nor does he pry as he erects a few makeshift seats sculpted from geo and sits himself down alongside you with a soft sigh on his lips. “I wish we could have met sooner,” he admits.

“Is that so? It’s hard to believe you’d bother…” you hum with a shy dip of your head. Morax considers this.

“Did you not ask for it?”

“I did…but I accepted the possibility of you not returning.” you cease for a second, recalling your promise to give him the answer he sought. It felt like a cheap trick, back then and it still does now, of you running away as you always did. “I'm glad you came back though…it was nice having someone around to speak to.”

Moax looks pleased with this. “I simply find your company enjoyable.” you feel a stirring in your stomach when he says that, and it feels like a wonderful sort of sweetness, like honey. “Even if our first few days spent together lacked any delicacy in approach.”

“You were quite stubborn.” you admit.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he agrees. You snicker.

“I wouldn’t blame you though. Even I had a hard time staying still when bedrest was forced upon me…how have you been?” your fingers slot together as you pull your knees closer to your chest, your cheek resting against your thigh as you watch the scenery in the distance. The mist had abated, just a bit and you could see the copse of trees expanding then scattering as the plains began.

Morax exhales. “As I’ve always been.”

“Stubborn?”

“ Busy .” he corrects, flashing you a look of warning. You grin innocently. “The war has come to a temporary standstill. Only smaller battles seem to keep up…with the weaker gods mostly weeded out, planning our next move is of importance. I only have a few hours to spare now before I leave for Liyue.”

“Oh…” you take this in. Perhaps this was a sign of the war slowly coming to a close. Maybe during your time, if you were lucky enough, or in another hundred years or so. “Then…tell me about Liyue.”

Morax raises a brow but he smiles, humoring your question. “What would you like to know?”

“Plant life? What’s it like there?” you supply, leaning forward in quiet anticipation.

He chuckles. “Not of the people? Or its history?” he asks.

“You can tell me that too!”

He hums, his gaze softening. “It’s not uncommon to see mountains in Liyue,” he admits. “To say our weather has a stark contrast in the plains and the peaks would be an understatement. Juehyun Karst, the realm of the adepti is pleasantly cool most of the time, but the plains are hot and humid. That being said, our flora seems to take on this diversity as well…”

He tells you about the yellow sand bearer and the gold ginkgo trees that spot Liyue��s landscape, of the horsetail that covets the marshes and the reclusive glaze lilies that grow within the terraces. He tells you about the silk flowers nestled amidst the red bushes, always found in pairs and the violet grass sprouting forth off of cliffs. And he tells you of the qingxins that turned away from the warmth of the plains and grew in the distant peaks, looking down upon Liyue as a whole.

There was a sort of magic, listening to Morax speak of his nation with a layer of fondness and sadness.

“Maybe when the war ends, I’ll visit. I think I'd like to start a garden some time.” you hum, surveying the empty patches of land in front of you. It would be nice to have a few more flowers around to brighten up the monotony you have grown accustomed to. His expression shifts, a brighter shine lighting up his eyes.

“You could stay there if you wish.” Disbelief rattles through your ribs and it steals your breath and pushes against your lungs. You fall silent, ceasing the anxious play with your clothes. “I could find a place for you amidst my people…would you like that?”

There was disbelief, yes, and a stutter in your words, but there is also the pang of appreciation and the tingle at your fingertips. However cold dread settles down ( for it is an old bedmate ) and Morax seems to catch on. “Have I misspoken in any way?” he questions, his hooded gaze appraising.

You jerk your head. He had it all wrong and the last thing you need is a messy misunderstanding to fall into your pile of terrible mistakes. “No, no…I don’t think I'm ready to return to a land ruled by a god…or even around so many people…not yet…” you couldn’t bring yourself to word it out and it shames you. You are an adult. You needed to speak like one.

There is a faint brush on your cheek, the barest hint of a touch and when you look up, you see the suspicion he holds paired with concern. You want to shrink back, make yourself smaller, unknowable, something you were before he came along and made you care and vie after company and something as simple as touch.

“I assume it has something to do with your old settlement?” he asks.

You nod.

“We were hidden behind our god’s mist and illusions…our people were cut off from the rest of the world save a few soldiers and those who joined our god in battle. My mother would accompany them sometimes…she’d tell me about the world outside and we promised to visit a lake just a short walk from the barrier…” you hold out your hands, trying to grasp the words she had tattered. “She called it starlight on earth…or…something like a mirror clearer than any metal she’d seen. I wanted to go, but we were not allowed to leave.”

“You were not?” Morax asks. He leans in, listening closer.

“We were not.” you affirm softly. “Or god never spoke it…but we knew. They talked about demons lurking out and we were scared. One day…I couldn’t find her amidst the returning line of soldiers she left with…I did later…and I couldn’t even stand to look at the state she was in.” you stare ahead, the weight of his gaze resting even harder now. “I don’t know why…if it was grief or curiosity or a mix of both…but I thought I heard her voice one day…calling out to me. And I knew it was a trap, but I ran towards it, out of the forest, and the mist…”

You swallow hard. You felt cold. Cold all over, like that night, where the silence was unsettling and the sound of your name was a taunting whisper. Your mother, it was your mother, rigid at some times with her own rough edges and flaws, but loving for the most part. Your mother — and it was an old hurt you had locked in a box a long time ago, that time had weathered down till it was the embers scraped to the side of the charcoal pit.

“They were right…my deity warded off those things that attacked me…but they were bleeding everywhere . Balam was strong , but as a god…I doubt they held much in par to some of the others who warred out there…” Like you , you almost add. “They were weakened…unfit to fight in a state like that and we tried what we could. The wounds didn’t heal as we thought they should. I was banished for endangering their life and as I traveled…I heard of Balam’s passing in the hands of an invading god.”

“...and now, I'm here.” you finish, wryness coating every syllable. You wished your apathy was more than a weak front to bury away the stab in your heart; you wish you could be stronger than the coward you are. Morax shuts his eyes, his arms crossing over his chest.

He looks a little more like the god you were told about; sharp, pragmatic, with a presence that looms over most. “If there was a law that stated so, that forbade stepping out of your deity’s territory, then yes, you have committed a wrong. I have heard tell of Balam, whispers of their whereabouts and they did try to protect your people from a harsher way of life…”

Ah, so that was his response. You wilt a little, feeling a mix of fury and defeat, at Morax, at the gods, at this war and at your own childish stupidity and audacity to even dare to feel this way. “I see…” you mumble. Morax holds up a hand, cutting you off. The words die in your throat faster than embers in snow.

“But,” he behind and his expression pulls into something gentler, lacking the initial rigid sternness it held. “Demons are still a force to be reckoned with. Even my adepti struggle with stifling down their noxious presence, whether it be the weight of karma or a disparity in power itself.”

Coherency is now a lost subject.

“I doubt you could have resisted its influence and Balam knew of the battle they would throw themselves into. Your god was willing to make that sacrifice, something of a rare sight amongst a few of the divine. Remember this well.”

A lump grows in your throat. It’s not an unwelcome one, quietly easing the nerves that crackled and frazzled beyond possible repair. You look down at your hands and your eyes slip shut as you take his words in, bit by bit. Balam was a god who, while distant within the front lines of battle, still loved their people.

It’s ironic how the gods can be capable of human sentiment and human error.

“Thank you, Morax.” you mutter. “I needed that.”

“The bitter truth, or the comfort?” he jests softly. “Because while I deal well with the former, my skill with the latter falls abysmally short.”

You laugh softly.

“For both .”

( His eyes light with surprise. Then you spot it, the faint flush on his cheeks and a dangerous thought enters your mind. You shake your head. It was best you didn’t raise your paltry hopes . )

He does not visit for a few weeks, but you spot a few saplings left behind at your doorstep, of plants and flowers you had never seen before.

You pick one up and a single word echoes in your mind — qingxins .

A smile tugs at your lips.

The distant noise of battle has grown reticent.

You tell it to Morax on one of his visits and he dares to flash a knowing smile in response. “The war is coming to its close. Only a few handfuls remain.” he states, tracing your bandaged hands; a new set of souvenirs from a stray whopperflower. You shiver involuntarily, leaning into him a bit more while longing tears your insides raw. “Hopefully you will come to enjoy an era of peace soon.”

“Will it end soon? The war?” you ask, wincing a little when he presses his fingertips down on the afflicted skin, bathing it in honeyed gold. “Ah! Gently!” you hiss, pulling back on reflex. Morax holds you fast, drawing you back to him with a playful tut and a sheepish glance your way.

“Apologies. Is this alright?” The pressure on your wrist still brings forth a sting, but it’s far more bearable. You nod. “Alright. Now hold still …” The glow returns, as does the tingling warmth and the tense nervousness gives way to a content sigh as the pain ebbs to obscurity. You watch your bandages fall away to skin mostly unblemished, save the faint traces of a scar left behind. “Better?” he asks.

You nod. “Much better…I wonder why you didn’t try healing yourself earlier. You’re not too bad at it.” he wasn't. Only a few humans were ever imbibed with the grace of divine power. You always longed to be gifted with the strength to heal, and you feet the slightest hint of envy as you take in the sight.

Morax blinks. “I was in too weak a state to do so. Healing is not my greatest strength either…I simply learned it, should it come to use amidst battle.” he flexes his fingers, the last flickers of gold falling away. His gaze meets yours with its usual intensity before he reaches for your other hand.

“Hm…I suppose this means you’ve paid your part of the debt?” you tease. “You’ve healed me as I've healed you, right?”

“True…” his lips quirk up as he mends the last of the burns, then presses a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “Does this mark the end of our contract?” The gesture only serves to fluster you further, bringing forth the feeling of fluttering warmth and the near lightness in your chest. Morax chuckles, his voice dipped to a teasing whisper as he calls out your name in a low, purring timbre.

“H-hold up!” you choke out, terrified of potentially overheating as you push his face away, stifling away the shy laughter that threatens to burst out. Morax shifts closer, closer still, his close presence having grown familiar through the meetings and the shared conversations and meals ( you missed the gentleness in his touch, you missed so much of him ).

“Hm? Stop what?” he teases, a cheeky glint lighting up in his gaze. “My, your face feels warm.” he adds with a soft simper, tilting your chin his way as he scans your features.

A desperate attempt to shift his attention comes to form. “Look at the qingxins you gifted me! They’re growing nicely, right?” you try to smile, looking at the flowers growing just a small ways from your home. Morax hums.

“They are. Give them a few months and they will come to bloom.” he replies, his wandering touch tracing up your arm, grazing at fragile skin and faint scars and the sensation has you shuddering. The glow in his eyes brightens and he huffs out something unintelligible, then asks you, “Would you like me to stop?”

You fall silent. “No it’s fine…” you sigh, reaching up to grasp his hand gently, ignoring the phantom stings as your finger splays out over Morax’s palm, at the dazzling gold dipped at the edges fading away to a spider web of veins and dark scales. “I like this.” you hum. Morax blinks, his cheeks coloring pink.

The intensity burns brighter in his gaze. It scorches at his touch and in the way he looks upon you now and as acute as it was, you felt blanketed beneath a safe warmth.

Morax speaks up, “I will make sure this war ends soon.” It was a promise, holding the weight of his blood. You feel it in every syllable, every rise and drop in his cadence. He leans in and the spice in his scent pervades your senses.

His lips are softer than you expected, mildly chapped from the heat and the battlefield, and between the buzz slowly beginning to sound off in your head and the feel of his touch brush away at your hair and rest on your cheek, your heart hammers hard in your ribcage. You feel the earth shift and watch the sky sweep away as you fall back on the grass and Morax palms at your hips and kisses you some more.

It feels like a distant dream, something you’d rather not wake from and when he pulls away to look you in the eye, you watch the smirk in his face grow as he dips down and buries his face into your neck, his pace languid, his claws gentle against the softness of your skin. You bite back a stray mewl when his teeth prickle down on sensitive flesh, slowly and deliberately making his way down down down, and his hand pressing flat on your thigh.

A glow flickers within his chest. He stops and tugs away with clear frustration, heaving as he watches you try to recover from the fog clogging up your thoughts, the memory of his touch warming every inch of you. Morax chews at his bottom lip. “I am needed again.”

“...oh…” you croak out, even if you wish to scream at the unfairness, to pull him back down atop of you and finish what he started. You shut your eyes, easing at your frayed nerves at the trembling and the traitorous dampness that was gradually settling in. The god in front of you holds a shadow of amusement and he kisses you again, gentler, with less teeth and tongue and more tenderness.

“I’ll come back,” he whispers. It holds another promise masked beneath the assurance, it’s cheekiness lighting his gaze.

When Morax’s form departs, you let out a shaky sigh, one hand delving into your heat while the other clamps over your mouth. The moment your slick coats your fingers, you moan into the silence, the promise persisting.

Morax thinks about you when the rains fall once more.

He thinks about you on the battlefield, waiting with that patient smile.

He thinks about you when his adepti fall and the last god is slain — when he finds his numbers dwindle, their blood staining his victory. He holds that memory of you close, that cherished warmth. His little flower.

Morax thinks about you. And he longs .

You came to know of patience’s workings through the days and months in between Morax’s visits, and this one is his longest thus far. The war persists still, the sound of the heavens screaming slowly growing quieter as deities were felled and the lands were stitched together by victories and defeats. You wonder where your old home lies now beneath the seven seats, what it would grow into in the near future.

Then one day, you wake to complete and utter silence.

The war is over. The roads had cleared. One day, when the world stills just a little more and the last few scars left behind have healed, you could try to visit the towns and cities beyond your isolated home.

Morax stays absent. You go on with your life. The qingxins he gifted you bloom in your garden. You wait, shedding away the accusatory remarks, the words that dare you to doubt his victory, that take your mind to darker spaces with the image of his still form and cold hands. No, absolutely not, you could not doubt him .

You repeat it over and over, beating down at the cynical whispering. Do not doubt him .

A storm rises again, blustering through the lands with the threat of tearing your home down from its stubborn foundations. You stay inside, the change in weather setting forth a persistent chill that your meager hearth could hardly hold against. Finally, after a few hours of running about, your body hunches over the blocks, feeding the fire with the last of your firewood.

“How much longer…” you mutter, storing away the last of your herbs when the rain refuses to cease and it grows harder to differentiate between night and day. The lightning thunders in response, asserting it’s long stay and you curl up by the warmth you fed, numb fingers gripping at old blankets and watching the rain beat down incessantly on your roof. It would be a long wait, you realize. It’s best if you find a way to pass the time.

There was another clap of thunder, then a crash that felt all too intimate with your memories. Then came the knocking and you scuttle up to let a drenched Morax in, his pupils blown wide and his body hot to the touch as he stumbles in. You’re almost afraid he’s fallen ill once more, but the insistent tug at your wrists has you follow him.

“Are you okay?” you ask, seating him down by the fire, moving to dry his hair after draping a sheet on his shoulder. “Morax, what’s wrong.” Despite the sudden appearance, you feel relief crash down and tug out a lump in your throat. You hold back the tears for his sake. You did not want to startle him in this state.

“A visit.” he shrugs.

“In this weather?” you question every ounce of wisdom he holds. He looks unbothered, pulling you closer to him while you squeeze the water out of his tresses, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. Warm breath pools out and hits your neck and a shiver racks at your body. “Morax — ”

“I missed you…” The hoarseness of his voice steals the words in your mouth. You latch onto him tightly, fisting at his robes, uncaring of the silk wrinkling beneath your rough hands. Morax does not stay silent or stay still, his hands sliding down your sides, pulling you closer up against him. “I missed you…” he repeats feverishly. The hunger in his stare is an answer enough.

The fire crackles and lets out a sputter.

Morax lays you on your back with a gentle thump and hooks a hand beneath your knee, pushing it up against your chest as he steals a kiss from you, heated and impatient after weeks of mulling over his affection and lust. “Stay still.” he orders as you squirm a little, wanting more, needing more, trying to bury yourself into him as much as humanly possible.

Your open mouthed breaths did not help in the slightest as he steals another kiss, then another, the wetness of his tongue delving deep down your throat as he muffles out any sounds of shock from you —

— was it forked ?

You could not ponder over it for long, choking against the invading muscle while his lips caress yours with growing need and intensity. It made sense, for one like Morax — who adored talking about the origins of an obscure tea leaf to the festivities that littered the streets of his city — to fancy the act of kissing you. And he still keeps kissing you, over and over till your head spins and his body is pressed up flush against yours.

He noses at your neck with a noticeable huff, fingers dragging up the side of your hips, slowly, deliberately, till they tug at the hem of your clothes. Molten gold catches the anxious excitement bubbling within you and your eyes and you catch the smirk on Morax’s face.

“I’d like to continue.” he sounds breathless.

“ Go on then .” that threadbare line that held you together had snapped now. You do not think you could wait any longer than you have for him. Morax chuckles, bending down with a narrowed gaze till his nose brushes against yours.

“I haven’t finished my statement.” he chides and you don’t know what is worse, him dragging this out to a near painful pace, or the hand that caresses the inside of your thigh teasingly, drawing out a stray moan from your lips. “If you feel overwhelmed, or you wish to stop, we must establish a safe word.”

He waits expectantly and you scour your mind for the first word that pops into your head. “Squid.” you decide, shifting your hips closer to him. Morax lets out something between a wince and an amused chuckle, his hand leaving your thigh. You wine in protest, grabbing at his wrists to pull him closer.

“So needy.” he lilts. “Are you sure you want this?”

How cruel , you think unhappily, unsure of how to take his consideration; a loosely veiled attempt to drive you further into wanting or a call of sincere concern. You think you know Morax. You think it’s both.

“ Yes !” you cannot wait any more and neither could Morax, his claws curling round to clutch and tangle at the back of your head while he captures you in a devouring kiss. Your own experience hardly held a candle to his own practiced ease, but you do what you can, groaning into the clacking of teeth and the teasing little nips he leaves on your lower lip.

His thumb traces down the side of your neck and hooks at your clothes, tugging away at the fabric to stroke your now bare shoulder. Morax leaves no trace of skin untouched by his lips and he brushes down the line of your collar bone, his teeth flashing in the candle light till you feel him bite down at the spot with a muffled growl.

The rush of pain and pleasure has you pressing your face down into the mattress with reeling shock, any moan held back in the midst of the hazy shock lighting up inside you. The action was mostly unintentional, but you were glad it could have saved you any further embarrassment in Morax’s eyes.

“Not a sound?” he asks, licking his lips with a predatory tilt to his head, regarding every inch of you with voracity. You stubbornly refuse to respond, lips sealed tight with a set of eyelashes batting up at him. Morax likes a chase and you give it to him, no matter how small it may be. “No matter. We’ll see how silent you are by the end of the night.”

The words hang in the air like an impending omen. You do not doubt him.

His voice dips to a sultry whisper as he undoes your top and lets it slide past your shoulders and down your waist till it was bunched to the side and lay there forgotten. The storm rumbles outside your window, and the wind prickles at your skin. Between Morax eyeing you down, mapping out every detail with his fingertips and the chill in the air, your arms instinctively move to hug yourself.

“No.” His word was stern, absolute as he tugs at whatever covers your entirety from his gaze. “I’ve never seen you this shy before… adorable .” he purrs, stroking your cheek.

“ Tease .” you test out.

Morax’s expression lapses to a playful smile in the midst of your indignation, leaning back to watch you with clear intent. He guides your legs around his waist and shifts you partly atop his lap, gently moving your hips to a slow grind against his torso. The sudden stimulation draws out a squeak, your cheeks set aflush.

“ Beautiful… ” his claws linger over your chest before it trails down to stroke your stomach. “You’re so soft , little love…” they stop at your shoulder, raking around the scar settled there, gnarled marks and torn flesh left behind by talons and teeth. You feel the flare of doubt and self consciousness flare back up, but it fizzles out when he bends to leave a kiss atop it.

It was hard to find a spot that he did not touch. Morax was precise, diligent, learning what spots made your squirm and whimper and shake beneath him with white hot pleasure. The rain’s roar was a distant muffle between the pleasant buzz in your head and Morax’s ragged breaths sounding in the otherwise quiet room. He hunches over you, nosing at your neck with near obsessive need, nipping, kissing — anything to cast on some semblance of his scent and essence.

Your chin nestles atop his shoulder, your sight trained upwards, oblivious to where Morax may choose to touch you next. The clinking of metal does draw in a few questions, most quickly answered when you feel his clothes give way and settle on your stomach. Then comes his teeth, sharp fangs sinking into you. You hardly register the moan you let out, or the heat that you sink into, desperate for more, for more skinship, for more of Morax.

“ Beautiful .” he repeats, a growl bleeding into every syllable, down to the rumble in his chest. He still donned his pants, but most of his clothes now lay scattered across the mattress, pushed aside a moment later with an impatient huff.

You have seen Morax bare chested plenty of times before, when he first arrived wounded on the slope of your little mountain home. There was no denying he was a beautiful man, sharply lined with the faintest of silvered scars scattered beneath stark gold tattoos. “ Morax .” you mutter, lacing your fingers into his, tugging at him instantly. “Keep going.”

He smiles.

“Patience.” he croons. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold back the swear resting on your tongue. “I have waited for so long…” his teeth don’t hold the old hesitance it did, now wholly marking you with delicious bruises and love bites. “...and I intend on savoring… ” his lips linger on the line of your jaw, tickling your ear. “... each… ” they brush down, down, down. “... bite… ” and true to his words, he sinks his teeth down again.

Your hands tangle at his hair, his hair tie snapping to your insistent tugging till burnt brown strands pool around him. He looked a little wilder, with how his eyes glow beneath the shadow cast on his face. You comb through them with a soft “So pretty.” earning a flattered hum whilst he cups your breasts, chanting your name lovingly.

You gasp at the feel of a soft pinch on your nipples. Morax lights up, a dangerous splay of his fangs flashing in your field of vision before he engulfs one breast within his mouth, suckling, biting, devouring greedily and the other grows sensitive to his slow strokes. “M-Mor–AX!” Your mewls peak and your hands grab at his shoulders, his back, at the sheets — somewhere , trying to ground you to the sensation.

( He could hear your racing heart beneath his grasp and the sound of it makes Morax purr with an emotion so old and primal and possessive. )

He pulls away with a wet pop. “How do you feel?” he asks.

“H-hot.” you barely manage to blurt out. “Hot everywhere.”

That smile was back again, the one with the barest flash of primality. “Hot?” he repeats. You nod. It was hot, in your cheeks, your chest and your stomach and core — and you could hardly bring yourself to wait. With Morax’s resolve to take his slower pace. You curse his patience. You wish he was just as desperate.

“I am.” he muses nonchalantly, ducking down to take your other breast in his mouth. “I crave every inch of you. I want to hear you sing, wǒ qīn'ài de .” his hand drags down, teasing the inside of your thighs with circular strokes. You buck your hips into him with a pathetic whimper, and Morax pounces at the lapse, tugging your underwear down with a single fluid motion then pushing his fingers into your drenched heat.

“Oh how obscene.” he lilts, a delighted shine in his eyes, momentarily bringing his slickened digits for you to see. “You’re drenched.”

“ Shut .” you snap, a depraved cry cutting you off as he teases at your entrance with one finger, thumbing up your core till he settles on your clit with a peased grunt. Your hips snap and shudder, tears slowly pricking at your eyes. It was an odd sensation, a buildup of pressure far greater than what you could coax out that tightens in your gut.

Morax slides a finger in, slowly, gently. “ Ah — ” you bury your face into your mattress, spreading your legs further for him. He continues his slow thrusts, in and out and you revel in the sweet sensation. “Feels — f-feels good — ”

His scrutiny comes with its merits, stroking your walls with an out of place gentleness as he watches every shift, keen and whine with a deep found appreciation and yearning. “You’re quite tight , little one.” he rumbles. You warble in response, bucking your hips into him as the pressure steadily builds and builds and builds.

“I’ll be adding another.” he decides and he does, a second finger slipping in. the stretch stung and you fist at the sheets with a groan.

“N-no…t-too much — ah!” The broken whimper does elicit a sympathetic look from him and he kisses away the tears, thankfully easing his movements.

“I know, little love. I know.” you sink into his warmth, melting at the delicacy in how he holds you close. “But we’ll need to prepare you, don’t we? And you’re taking me so well too…” you think you are when the pain slowly subsides and the pleasure returns, your very being trembling when he scissors you. “Ah, witnessing the state you're in…it makes me wonder how well you’ll take something else of mine, hm?”

“M-morax!” you squeak, cheeks flushed. The embarrassing squelch from your core shuts you up immediately. You decide you’re better off muffling out your moans out of petty spite at this point and you seek your refuge in the covers, burying your face into your mattress.

Ha! You think, naively, foolishly, daring to assume that Morax would fold at the face of a challenge. A third finger slips through and the moan is smothered. You think you hear him chuckle and you think you see the excited flash in his eyes as he shifts and twists your body, laying you down on your stomach.

“So stubborn.” The delight is apparent in his cadence. His hand presses down at the small of your back, then his torso presses up against you, continuing his slow and agonizing thrusts with practiced pace. “The vitriol in your silence hardly diminishes how soaked you are. Your body is far more honest, it seems.”

“ MMPH !”

You gasp, feeling his fingertips stroke your g-spot, pulling you apart at the seams and chipping away at your mind. Everything feels distant and muddled and the pleasure was almost too much to bear. “Does it feel good when I touch you here?” you shut your eyes and curl up, bucking up into him uselessly. His weight restricted your movements and you doubt you could wiggle away for a temporary respite ( even if some masochistic part of you liked the deluge of sensations pile up steadily ). “I need words.”

Another thrust. You wail into your hands, whatever dogged decision to stay silent, now shattered. “Yes. Yes — P- please!” you haven’t the foggiest clue what you’re begging for at this point, but the fullness you feel from his fingers alone is enough. “L-like that. Morax please keep going.”

He adds a fourth finger.

“You keep tightening up…” he whispers, as if trapped in a trance of his own, your head lifting to press against his bicep while his movements momentarily slow to ease you in before his pace picks up and that slow, brutal torture begins again.

You squirm, squeal, bite into his arm with vigor. Morax laughs, kissing your temple with comforting croons. “Good.” he coos, dipping his nose into your hair with a victorious purr. Your thighs squeeze around him and your hips jolt forth. The pressure steadily building up in your stomach seems to crest while you chime out his name. Your orgasm seeps closer and closer and closer —

He pulls his fingers out and you bite back a cry, a protest, tears pooling out as dismay settles fast. Was it something you said? Was it something you’ve done? Why did he stop?

“Why…” you manage out, stroking his hair. Morax raises a brow then slides down, his lips latching onto your inner thigh with a groan. You fist at the sheets again, a vague idea coming to form between the haze and the jumbled confusion and disappointment and it sets a spark of excitement.

A pause.

Morax meets your gaze.

He smirks.

You stifle back a scream when he bows his head down and laves at your heat, catching the receding traces of your buildup and letting it reel in steadily. His tongue was greedy, warm, devouring you whole as he slicks it through your drenched folds, and — oh gods —

Whatever praise that you cry out turns into a feverish mantra being babbled out over and over, the sharp mountainous air taking on a headier scent. Your validation was enough to spur him on, it seems, every bit of Morax, from the practiced gentleness to his eagerness to undo you coming to shine with the fervor of a starved animal.

“ Good .” he growls out, claws digging down a little harder into the softness of your thigh, his teeth and tongue grazing and toying at your clit. You clap your hands over your mouth once more, a squeak cut short, only to have them pinned down by him. He flashes you a warning glare before gold light illuminates your wrists and you feel the weight of geo press them down to your chest.

The cuffs were heavy, and they did their job well as you could only grab at air while his licks grow more languid. Your thighs were pushed back with a single fluid movement and a flustered cry escaped with your sudden exposure.

“Ah — ”

You tug at his hair, drawing out another delicious moan from his throat. Liquid gold appraises you, taking every detail in, between your fucked out expression and your twitching body. Morax presses against your sweet spots, and you could have sworn some strange magic were at play, with every careful thrust and every slow vibration. You could hard;y word out the state you were in, your mind all cotton wool with little thought.

Overwhelming…indescribable…that was a way to put it.

Morax does not complain about your growing insistence, your moans growing louder, your thighs squeezing round his shoulders, your attempts to free yourself from the stone shackles he placed on you.he must be just as far gone with your arousal in his mouth ( and that was true ). You hope he won’t turn to cruelty like the last time and deny you of your orgasm. It was a delirious pitch in the back of your mind, a soft cry.

“I-I think i’m close — ” you gasp, feeling that knot grow tight as the tell tale spill of an incoming release shudders up your spine and fingertips. Morax looks at you, the gold of his eyes wide and his pupils blown out with suppressed mischief. A well-timed thrust from his fingers served your undoing.

“Go on then.” he relents.

You sob into the sheets gratefully, pleasure rippling through as the coil snaps and you crumple and sink into a state of unawareness. You could only just register Morax sitting up, thumb swiping at his lips, licking away at the mess you made, smeared between his thighs and on him. “S-sorry!”

He shuts his eyes, quiet bliss washing over him. “I could devour you here and now…” he mutters in indulgence. He rubs your sore wrists down, pressing kisses against the expanse of skin with an apologetic smile. “You look tired. Shall we stop here?”

Alarm lines your features. “What about you?” you blurt out, bug eyed and still fatigued from your orgasm. Morax doesn’t respond, laying down next to you. You feel a bitterness line your mouth and you find yourself pushing your body up and crawling atop him. Morax opens one eye, amusement quirking at his lips.

“Oh?” he doesnt bother feigning surprise as his clawed grip settles on your hips. You try to hide yourself, embarrassment from your bold move hardly aiding in your focus as you slide his pants down and stare, he bore two of them, standing erect against your stomach. You helplessly glance at him.

“You’re…you’re big..” you tell him dumbly. “I-I don’t…I don’t think I can take both of them…” Morax chuckles.

“We’ll take it slow then. You only need one.” he decides, helping you up. You steady yourself on his shoulders, carefully laving your entrance with him before you lower yourself onto him, feeling the first telltale sting that has you stop with a whine. “Careful.” he speaks up, rubbing at your sides and you try to be, taking him bit by bit. Morax stretched you out in a way his fingers couldn’t and his second shaft rubs at your sore clit, leaving you jolting with sparks of pleasure.

He was roving every inch of you, biting down at his bottom lip when you clench around him. Every bit of him screamed of his self control hovering a step away from a more viscous beast. You don’t think you’re ready for what Morax tucks away in the corners of his mind, but you hope, hope that you could indulge him some day.

You were soaked enough for him to slip in with ease, a collective of your and his arousal trailing down with an audible squelch every time he dared to grind up a little more against you. “Fuck….” he whispers out, a rare lapse in demeanor. “D-does it hurt?”

“No.” you shake your head, a half lie. It stings, yes, but the slow haze of euphoria was pressing up and you knew he would stop if you showed the slightest sign of discomfort — and you did not want him to stop. Not with this lovely warmth, and with him holding you like you were the most delicate of flowers.

The sound he makes is animalistic and he thrusts, just a little, into you. He could hardly help himself, seemingly just as lost as you were ( and he was, with his parted lips and fluttering lashes ). You curl into him, pressing your face into his neck. “That’s it.” he whispers mindlessly. “Wonderful, y-you’re taking me so well…don’t rush now…”

You take the rest of him, seated snugly on his lap with a shaky mewl, tears pricking at your eyes. Morax bares his teeth, groaning freely as the air itself seems to crackle against you. You open your mouth, trying to say something, anything, but he pins you down with a single look. “Little minx .” he rasps.

A laugh bubbles up. You wonder if it’s from amusement, or from the overwhelming rush of dopamine or both.

He kisses the corner of your lips, gathering his bearings. “You’ve had your moment of fun, little love. Now move .”

“Yes sir…” you sigh, and do just that, lifting your hips just a bit before you rock back down onto him. “S-shit…s-so good…”

Morax hums, pursing his lips. His face was flushed and the tattoos on his arms were cast in gold and light. He takes matters into his own hands, pounding up into him with sudden force and your teeth chatter and your eyes roll back with a pathetic whimper.

A few marks of your own were delivered, from your nibbling as Morax continues to thrust up into your drenched cunt, and from your nails scratching at his back. His approval was punctuated by a particularly hard one, that made your head spin and had you see stars. You vaguely register the scent of petrichor through everything else.

“ Morax — ”

The state you were in only behind to sink in. That he was inside you, that he was taking every chance to draw out these obscene sounds from your lips. Even gods could not escape the perversion of mortal desires. Was this even considered blasphemy at this point, when he seemed to be stuck on the same boat as you were, sinking so fast into his lust?

“ — so good for me .” he guides your legs around his abdomen, whispering your name with a weak whine. He bites at your neck, at the marks he inflicted, then soothes them with kisses. He rubs your back and strokes your hair, his tender touch contrasting against his rough movements, grinding into your sweet spots and paired with his second cock rubbing at your clit, you could only lose yourself a second time.

That knot tightens and you feel the onset of your release. It was close, fast coming and you tug at his hair to warn him. Morax growls, his tail winding round your ankle. You try to keep up, try to ride him, but his pace far outmatches yours, stretching you out, pulling you flush against him. You let him use you, your monks reaching a feverish peak, grasping a taste of heaven on your tongue.

“Morax — ah!”

He curls into you, around you with an engulfing embrace with whispered words being uttered into your ear, “Do you want to cum?” You jolt your head. “Then cum… ”

And the bliss washes over you as you finally find it, slumping up into Morax;s patient arms with a near boneless stance. Your eyes met his, the hunger that still rages as he watches with awed fascination at how you come apart and piece back together again with teary eyes and a debauched smile.

“Beautiful.” he mumbles, then presses you face first into the sheets, still sheathed deep inside you. You only just realize he still has reached his own peak yet when he moves, absently reaching out for a pillow for you to grasp.

“God…M- morax — ” you were tired but with overstimulation settling fast and your own desires to see his pleasures being met, you bite into the pillow with a helpless whine. There was a rush in the pain you felt, from feeling all that pleasure wrap into a tight knot while he slicks back and forth into you, hitting your g-spot again with insistent grunts. His pupils were blown wide, like he was trying to take in as much of you as he could.

“M-more!” you blurt out then wince, feeling a hint of shame prick at you for being so greedy. It was about him now; sure you could put your own needs aside.

Morax however, smiles. “ More ?” he coos. “You want more?”

A gasp. You feel his hand settle on your clit, his untouched cock brush against your thigh. “Now who am I to deny you?” He continues his rough thrusts, godly stamina barely denting at his reserves and his pace. Perhaps that came with being an adeptus, this unending virility and endurance. Morax kisses at the back of your neck, laying down more marks to serve as a reminder for the next few days ( that you were, undoubtedly and irrevocably his now ).

Wanton moans pour out easily. Morax delights in them, carefully stimulating spots that were sure to bring the most out of you. The initial phase of searching and mapping out and learning was long gone — he was always quick to pick up on things, and things that make you fall apart into a quivering mess so easily were no exception.

It feels so good. So good —

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks. You feel sore in the best of ways and you nod. You don’t want him to stop. You don't ever want him to stop, drunk on the overstimulation, the euphoria, his cock, him —

Morax lets out a shaky exhale and slams even harder into you. “You’ll be my undoing...” he whispers and you turn your head, catching a glimpse of him. His straight faced composure was long gone, what careful parts of him he keeps hidden from sight having fallen over. Claws prickle at your ass, his eyes are trained on you, you you and when he meets your gaze, he captures your lips in a heated kiss.

“What kind of spell have you ensnared me with, little love?”

You could say the same thing. You try to, cut off by a rough grind on your clit. A lump builds up in your throat, vaguely recalling his small gestures of affection, his admissions, through your heat hazed mind and you arch your back into him to catch another kiss. Morax never needed to say the words and you were fine with it.

“I love you.” you tell him instead, taking everything you had to get your tongue to move. Morax freezes up. He shuts his eyes and strokes your cheeks and buries his face into your neck.

“My Qingxin.” he whispers, tenderly, lovingly. The faltering in his pace, the sloppier jerks of his hips, then undertones of strained control beneath his moans signal his release. You grasp at his free shaft, and the gasp that echoes out was a rewarding one as you stroke him along into his release. “In or out?” he grits out, stuttering for a second. You feel the drag of his cock against your walls. “In.” you blubber.

You blank out after, feeling the rush, the fullness, him spilling out of you, between your legs, onto the mattress, over your stomach. Morax lets out a shudder, his marks glowing a faint gold before he pulls out. His hand does not leave your clit. Coaxing your third peak out with gentle kisses and insistent mumbles. The pain was sharp but you drink it in, pride lining every crevice of you till you jolt, that pressure finally releasing.

“Thank you.” you mumble. Intimacy was always so foreign, and a kind touch was a far away thought. Morax settles down, pulling you to him as he kisses away the drying tears and the sated touch starvation. He kisses you on the lips. Then the tip of your nose. Then at the bites he inflicted.

“Rest.” he whispers.

The cadence of his voice made it hard to disagree with and you feel unconsciousness wash over you fast. You could vaguely make out the sheets being changed and a damp cloth washing you down.

Morax’s weight next to you was the last thing you register.

“Are you well?”

Morax could count the number of times you sought refuge beneath his arm, eyes roving the stalls in the harbor with caution and nervousness. Your jumpiness was an expected clause, and a slightly endearing one as he walks you along the streets as a mortal man and his lover. There were no gods in Liyue Harbor today, at least none the people were aware of.

“Zhongli.”

He turns his head. “Yes, love?”

You fall into earnest silence. “I think I'm going to freak out.” you say. As taught as a bowstring against him. You grip at his hanfu tighter. “They’re staring. Why are they staring?”

“I suppose a new face does bring raised brows. That…” he dips his head down, nose brushing against your cheek with a loving chuckle. “...and you look exceptionally beautiful today, love.” You tug at his sleeve. “Ah, would some food ease my flower’s nerves then?” another tug. He takes that as a yes.

Even so, Morax knew you. Qingxins were flowers that know the intimate dangers of the mountain side and the bustle of the harbor below. You will grow, as you do and you will adapt as you do, maybe slowly, maybe quickly. He knows not to rush it along and he contents himself with your company and your curious question and the bliss on your face when you try a skewer.

“Liyue is beautiful.” you admit after a while. “Crowded, but beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not used to this.” you tell him for the umpteenth time, quick, apologetic and Morax has none of that ( why would he ever see it fit to fault you? ). He takes your hand, pressing a fluttering kiss on your palm.

You shoot him a flustered glare. He smiles. “We’ll take our time. This old man has much to spare.” and he does.

He’ll wait millennia if it is for you.

📼 — AUTHORS NOTES

reposting done XD.

TAGLIST ノ join the taglist. — @silentmoths @meimeimeirin @sleepynoons @meirvelle @endursent.

@jessamine-rose @ofoceansandtombsanew @chiyoso @4acoffee @loveliluc.

#📼 — entries.#zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli smut #morax x reader #genshin morax #morax x you #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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lalacliffthorne · 1 year ago

Text

🪽 if you go down 🪽

Azriel x Reader

part I part II

summary: when a mission goes awry in the cold mountains, things take a turn, and suddenly, there's a lot more at stake than planned.

notes: look who's back!! yours truly got knocked out by a flu sent straight from hell, which meant being buried in bed and no writing for what felt likes ages. and of course when I did write again, I did not focus on other WIPs - noooo, I started this! whoops *winces*. to be fair tho, parts of this had been sitting in my ideas-folder for quite some time and when I had a sudden epiphany on how to use them, I couldn't just ignore that. especially since that epiphany was so... steamy. *grins* I'm back on my bullshit, and it's a spicy one! strap yourselves in, babes. we've got incoming drama and smut. also, even after splitting the whole thing, this is still long.

______________________________________________________________

The whole thing had been a shit show even before Azriel was shot out of the sky.

Rhys had sent the Spymaster and me into the mountains, to track down a group of soldiers gone rogue that had somehow swerved into the icy wilderness of the Night Court, raiding the small villages and leaving a trail of chaos and bodies.

It was a simple track and eliminate situation; find the group, assess the situation, move in if possible and track and wait if not.

Of course that meant nothing about it was simple.

“Damn it,”, I hissed, feeling my body tremble as a gush of ice cold wind grasped me.

I squinted, trying to make out anything in the chaos of swirling thick snowflakes that stuck to my lashes and hair. My cheeks were stinging under my heavy hood, my fingers freezing even in my thickly lined gloves, my skin icy under my winter leathers that weren't enough even with a second layer beneath.

The snowed-in wilderness of the Night Court was an icy climate to begin with, hard to navigate even in good weather.

Nearly impossible in a snowstorm.

We'd lost track of the soldiers about two or three hours ago, the quick falling fresh snow covering every track within minutes, the wind destroying every trace of footsteps and scent. Even Azriel's shadows seemed to be confused, coming up empty in the snowed-in woods, like the soldiers had buried themselves to avoid detection.

I huffed, my breath a white cloud.

Wouldn't have surprised me. They were trained to stay undetected.

This was bullshit.

Raising my head, my squinted eyes darted over the grey sky, clouds of thick whirling snow over the dark pines almost conceiling the dark figure high in the sky.

Even though it was risky, Azriel had decided that trudging through the forest without quite knowing which way to go wouldn't do. He had also ignored my protest that he'd be visible like a fucking beacon up there, no cover anywhere.

I had seen the hard glare he'd sent me before launching into the air - he knew perfectly well that it was a dangerous move. But just like me, he was irritated.

Pairing us together probably hadn't been the best idea.

The shadowsinger and I always clashed. Where Azriel was cool and quiet, I was fiery and quick to charge. Where he scowled, I grinned in challenge, where his eyes pierced, mine twinkled. He was rational and controlled to no avail, and I was empathetic and following my heart. His quiet watchfulness annoyed the crap out of me, and my smirks and cheeky taunts made his eyes flare.

I egged him on, challenged him where I could, and he usually rose to the occasion, shooting right back with sharp, well placed jabs.

It didn't help that he was breathtakingly beautiful. That his low, deep voice sent tingling shivers down my spine. It was infuriating, really; how it could make the hairs at the back of my neck rise, how him towering over me made something dip over in my chest.

It was a constant back and forth between us, which had made pairing us together for a mission a risky move even before the storm had hit. Now, we'd lost the soliders, I was freezing, Azriel's shadows were frenzied and uncoordinated, like they were responding to their master's agitation –

All in all, it was a mess.

Shivering, I slowly started to trudge through the snow again. I needed to move, or I would turn into a fucking icycle.

Screw Azriel and his stern “Stay here.”; if I did, he could take me home as an ice statue.

The snow swallowed every noise, the howling wind making listening for treacherous footsteps even harder. I moved slowly and carefully, my brown leathers blending in with the tree trunks, but still far too visible in the white forest as I squinted against the onslaught of falling snow that covered my tracks within minutes.

Gods, in this weather, those bastards could be miles away by now and we wouldn't kno-

Something shivered down my spine.

My eyes darted up, and I felt something dip over in my stomach when a wave of dread washed over me - premonition, instinct; precise and never amiss.

The strange tingle of sudden knowledge that something was about to go terribly, awfully wrong.

My instincts were something that even Azriel couldn´t scoff away.

In over 300 years, they had never once been wrong.

I swung around, drawing my swords as my gaze darted over the snowed in forest in search for anything; a trembling branch, a moving figure –

My gaze rose, and my eyes found the dark silhouette high in the sky.

Everything seemed to slow, my breath coming out in heaving clouds as something swelled under my ribs.

Then an arrow whizzed through the sky and hit the dark shape square in the chest.

My heart stopped. Simply ceased beating as I felt my eyes widen and my lips part.

In complete silence, the winged figure wavered. Then more black shapes whizzed through the air like lightning, catching and ripping through his wings, and like slow motion, Azriel tipped to the side and began to drop through the sky, freefalling towards the earth.

My limbs unfroze. A jolt went through my body as a wave of all-consuming dread crashed over me, and breathing a panicked “No.”, I rushed forward. Plunging my swords back into their sheets, I dodged a low hanging branch, then I started running.

My feet flew over the snow-covered ground, clouds of white whirling up behind me as I dashed through the trees. My heart was pounding against my ribs as something seized my chest, something like a clawed fist, squeezing tighter and tighter as I ran. Stumbling over roots and slipping on the icy ground, I dodged branches, freezing deadly cold washing through my veines as I stormed through the woods.

No.

I stumbled out from between the trees onto a stony beach, almost tripping as I skidded to a halt.

In front of me, a huge lake stretched, dark and deep and silent.

Right in it's middle, the water was sloshing, silently throwing small waves, like something big had crashed into it.

For a moment, I felt frozen, a name filling my throat, threatening to spill out, but I couldn't, couldn't scream without drawing attention, couldn't yell out the panicked cry building in my chest –

Azriel.

Panic crushed my ribs, and without a thought, without a second of consideration or planning, I darted towards the shore.

The water soaked my boots within seconds as I splashed into the lake. Icy cold water hit my feet, spattering up my legs and almost causing my muscles to lock in place. But I fought forward, holding onto the pulsing fear in my chest as I pushed my legs to move. Then I dove into the waves.

For a moment, the water seemed to freeze the blood in my veines. My lungs closed up, cold gripping my body. Then my head broke through the surface, the air hot in comparison to the icy water as I started to swim.

Something gripped my chest like an iron fist as I fought my way through the cold water. It was so deep, so dark, I couldn't see the ground, could only focus on that spot in the middle of the lake where the water was slowly beginning to calm.

Azriel had still not come up for air.

Something rose in my chest, gripped my throat, and I pushed, my skin burning with cold as I tried to swim faster, my arms and legs cleaving through the icy waves in powerful strokes. Then I sucked in a deep breath and dove under.

The water was so dark, I could barely see a few feet. Pushing myself deeper, feeling my wet clothes pull at me, my eyes darted through the depths until I spotted a huge shape floating below me. Shadows were slowly swirling around it, almost serenly, reaching out towards me like soft, gentle hands.

Something tightened violently in my chest, and I pushed myself up.

My head broke through the surface, and I gasped for air as the ice cold wind stung my wet cheeks. Breathing in deeply, I filled my lungs. Then I dove again.

The icy water enveloped me like hands pulling at me, like ghostly fingers numbing my skin as I started to swim into the deep. My body was burning as I fought my way through the stinging cold towards the far away bottom of the lake where Azriel was being gently swayed by the water, his wings stretched out and body limp, eyes closed.

My heart pulsed painfully.

Shit.

My lungs were beginning to protest as I reached out, feeling the pressure on my body pushing me as I grasped at nothingness. Then my fingers closed around Azriel's shoulders, and something dipped in my chest. I slipped an arm around his collarbones, feeling coolness sweep around me as his shadows pushed me upwards towards the light.

My chest was constricting as I fought myself upwards, black spots beginning to dance at the edge of my vision, and I tried to fight the panic, push forward -

My face broke through the surface, and I gasped for air, my fingers digging deeper into Azriel's shoulders as I hauled him up and into my chest, his face coming out of the water. The ice cold air stung my lungs and skin, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Azriel's tall, solid body completely motionless.

“Shit.” Gripping him tighter, I turned, frantically trying to catch sight of the beach. For a second, I couldn't find it, feeling panic slosh through me. Then I caught a glimpse of black stone strip in the distance.

“No, no, come on.” Shaking, I began to fight my way through the sloshing waves. Azriel's wings dragged through the water, making him even heavier and pulling him down. Water sloshed over his face, and I tried to tug him up, my eyes beginning to burn and a desperate sound breaking from my throat as my muscles protested.

Come on.

It felt like hours until I reached the shore. I was shivering uncontrollably as I pushed myself to my feet, my knees shaking as I dragged Azriel out of the water, his wings scraping over the stony ground. His shadows whispered as I dropped him, falling to my knees next to him.

“Az?!” My voice was hoarse and panicked as I pressed my fingers against his neck and felt my heart skip once before stilling.

He wasn't breathing.

“No, no, no, come on!” An ache spread through my chest, and with widening eyes, I slid forward, beginning to press my hands down on his chest in a quick, steady rhythm, my whole body shaking as my heart pounded in my throat.

“Come on,”, I whispered frantically, “come on –“

Water sloshed out of Azriel's mouth, his body rearing up as he coughed out lake water.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I hastily pushed against his body, turning him onto his side and patting firmly onto his back.

Azriel inhaled harshly, his breath rattling. His body was shaking under my fingers, and something tightened violently in my chest when I felt him slump against me.

With shaking hands, I turned him onto his back again, leaning forward to slap his cheek. “Azriel. Azriel, fucking look at me!”

Whispering curses under my breath, I stared at the ash arrow in his chest, feeling my heart pound.

I couldn't take it out, not here, not without anything to stop the bloodflow, not without risking him loosing too much blood. His wings needed healing as well, the rips in the thin membrane too big, too broad.

“Shit, shit, shit,”, I whispered hoarsely, throwing my head up to look around wildly. I couldn't stay here, or we'd freeze, and with our luck, the soldiers were heading this way, just to check on whether they had actually hit their target.

We needed shelter.

“Alright, come on.” Scrambling to get to my feet, I grabbed Azriel's wrist, his body dead weight as I slid his arm over my shoulder and dragged him to his feet. His wings slumped towards the ground, and I clenched my teeth, wrapping my arm tightly around his waist and firmly nudging my shoulder into his side.

“You're not giving up, you hear me?” My body was trembling from cold and adrenaline as I started to stumble towards the treeline, half carrying, half dragging Azriel with me. “You're going to hold on until I find a safe place; you're not going to leave me!” My voice quivered.

“I need you to glare at me and call me stupid for putting myself in danger, and I need you to be a stuck up idiot so I can kick your stupid beautiful ass for it!” My voice broke, and I cursed myself, raising my head and blinking against the stubborn burning sensation in my eyes as I breathed shakily. “You're not going to die on me; you're not going to die!”

The snow made getting forward difficult. Soon, my knees were shaking under Azriel's weight, and I could feel his rattling breath against my soaking wet hair, becoming flatter. His body shivered like mine, like it was fighting against the icy winds ripping at us, howling as the snowfall became heavier. At least it would cover our tracks and mask our scents.

I nearly stumbled over a root hidden in the snow, and something in my chest clenched.

If we didn't find shelter soon, Azriel would be dead by morning.

Something hot and flaming rose in my chest, and I clenched my teeth, adrenaline surging through my body.

No fucking way.

“Come – on,”, I pressed, gripping him tighter and fighting against the cold stinging my whole body, numbing my skin as I dragged the shadowsinger with me. “You're not getting away that easily, you hear me?”

For once, I wish I would get back a cutting, precise remark. But Azriel just rasped a flat breath, his body sinking heavier on mine. Panic washed over me, tightening its grip around my chest.

Shit.

The wind howled around us. Every crack of a branch when the weight of the snow got too heavy made my head whip around, my eyes darting frantically through the trees. But I couldn't see a soul, could only hear the sound of crunching snow under our feet, our heavy breathing and my heart pounding in my ears. My mind was racing while I dragged Azriel through the snow.

The arrows had come from the opposite side of the lake, probably from quite a bit inside the forest. If they wanted to check if they had hit their target, they would have reached the lake by now, but the quick falling snow had masked all our tracks.

Hopefully.

They would hardly check the lake for a body, so if they didn't find one washed onto the shore, maybe we had a chance. Maybe if we found a spot to hide, wait out the storm and I got Azriel at least half back on his feet, he'd be able to transport us back to Velaris, and we could send reinforcements to find the soldiers.

For some reason, the thought wasn't nearly as satisfying as the heat twisting and raging in my chest, urging me to hunt them down myself. And sink my knives into the bastard who had dared firing those arrows.

The image kept me going, fed my numbing, chattering body with a grim, burning fire that wasn't warming but gave me something to cling to, hold onto as I staggered through the snow.

That and the male I half carries, half dragged with me, his body becoming heavier with the second. It caused a desperate tremble in my limbs.

There was no way I was going to lose him, no way I wasn't going to push until my legs gave out, and even then, I would curl over him if I had to, protect his far too tall body with mine, give him the last bit of warmth that was burning in my chest.

It was either the both of us leaving this stupid forest, or neither of us, because there was no way I was going to leave him. Even if his beautiful, dumb, rational ass would tell me to –

My eyes got caught on a dark structure ahead, flashing between the dark trees, almost obscured by clouds of whirling snow.

My heart tumbled, and I exhaled shakily, feeling my eyes widen as I tightened my grip around Azriel's waist and started lugging him forward.

The thrum in my chest began to quicken when I caught a glimpse at what looked like a simple wooden cabin. It was probably nothing more than one big room inside, with small windows and closed shutters, the porch covered in a thick layer of snow that the wind had blown past the protruding roof – but it made my heart rise in a wild flutter and my limbs melt from their frozen state.

The cabin looked empty, no light peaking out from the shutters, the snow high and unmarked around it. I dragged Azriel around to the front and felt my heart dip.

The door had been opened by force. It looked like someone had kicked it in, and when I leaned forward, breathing heavily, I caught a glimpse at an empty, slightly trashed inside. Judging by the thick layer of snow that had covered the entrance, the raid had happened more than a few hours ago, maybe even already last night.

My heart fluttered and jumped into my throat.

That meant the soldiers had already been this way, had probably reached the lake from this side before moving to the other to disappear deeper into the mountains.

If we were lucky, that meant they wouldn't come past here again, clearly already done searching for valuables in this place.

Unless they had a reason to, they wouldn't just backtrack and risk running into the people hunting them.

I nearly stumbled, lugging Azriel up the steps to the porch. We almost got stuck in the door, and I had to slide my arms around him to pull him through sideways to not hurt his wings. Then I looked over my shoulder, breathing heavily as I quickly scanned over the inside of the cabin.

It was one big room, with a fireplace and a bed covered in furs on the left, a big table and shelves on the right. The air smelled ice cold but stale, like no one had been here for quite some time. The cabinets had been thrown open, but nothing but cups and bowls were scattered over the floors, the bottles and jars in the shelves untouched. The sight made my heart skip high.

Maybe I had a chance of mixing something for Azriel's wounds together from that.

“Alright, come on.” Dragging Azriel towards the table, I heaved him onto the top, my limbs shaking from his weight. Minding his wings, I turned him onto his back, hastily checking his pulse before turning around and darting towards the door. Kicking most of the snow out onto the porch, I threw it shut, bolting it and using one of the chairs to block the handle just to be sure.

Now, the cabin lay in almost complete darkness. Outside, it seemed to already get darker, the thick clouds and the snow storm that only seemed to get heavier darkening the woods even quicker.

My teeth were chattering as I darted towards the shelves, my trembling fingers skimming over the bottles and tinctures, dried herbs and berries in jars. I found some candles in a drawer and matches in another, and setting them up in holders around the cabin, I lit them, my breath shaking as warm, golden light filled the room. Now that I wasn't moving, I felt the cold clinging to me even more, numbing my limbs.

We needed to warm up, quick.

But first, I had to take care of that arrow.

I had never been more thankful for Madja.

My fingers flew over the pestle and mortar I had found in the shelves, grinding up berries, mixing them with herbs, honey and fresh snow. I heard the old healer's voice in my head as I worked, explaining how to best treat wounds caused by ash arrows, how to make the paste that would help the naturally quicker healing of an Illyrian.

Provided the arrow had not injured any vital organs.

The thought made something dip over in my chest, and I threw a quick look over my shoulder to where Azriel was laying still on the big wooden table, his breathing far to flat, the white of his eyes visible under his fluttering eyes. His tanned skin was pale.

Snatching some bandages I had found in the back of a cabinet, I turned around, dropping the mortar on an empty chair next to the bandages and some clean fabrics I had found in the chest next to the bed. My fingers were trembling as I undid the buckles of Azriel'ss chest armor, the heavy leathers pierced by the arrow. His clothes were soaked and clammy like mine, and his skin was icy to the touch, so much so that I flinched.

Shit.

Breathing out, I closed my hand around the arrow, my breath shaking as I pressed my free arm down onto Azriel's chest.

“I'm so sorry,”, I whispered.

Azriel gave a gargled sound when I pulled the arrow from his chest, twisting in the spot. I tried to hold him down, squeezing my eyes shut as the arrow clattered to the floor and I hastily pressed some of the cloth onto the wound that gushed blood, though it looked a lot less than it maybe should be.

Godsdamned cold.

Hastily, I dragged Azriel's leathers off his torso, dropping the soaking material to the ground as I caught the blood with the cloth, pressing it down. My body was trembling as I waited, then I peaked at the wound - the bleeding was already slowing down.

I prayed it was Azriel's healing that caused it, not the cold shutting down his bloodflow.

Spreading the thick paste over the wound, I picked up the needle and thread I had found in a drawer and held the sharp tip into the flame of a candle before pulling the thread through it. My fingers trembled, and I needed three tries until it was looped through the needle.

Azriel twitched when I started stitching the wound together, my needlework a lot less clean than Madja's, but I was shaking too hard. My eyes darted towards Azriel's face constantly, my heart dropping deeper every time I caught a glimpse at the white of his eyes peaking out from under his lids. It felt like he was wandering somewhere between concious and unconcious, twitching and groaning softly at the pain, but too far away to open his eyes or gather anything about his surroundings.

Tying off the string, I grabbed the bandages. It took all my strength to pull Azriel up, his wings dragging him down as I wrapped the white gauze around his ribs tightly, my arms shaking.

I was sweating when I finally carefully put him down again, my cold, wet clothes sticking to my skin and making my teeth chatter.

I needed to get out of these leathers or I would catch something worse than death.

But Azriel's wings were first.

The thin membranes had been shredded by the sharp tips of the arrows, blood crusting the gaping cuts. I cleaned them, whispering trembling apologies whenever Azriel shifted and gave slurred, pained sounds that sunk their own sharp claws into my chest. Carefully stitching them together in the way Madja had showed me once, I spread more paste on the wounds, thick enough to cover them from both sides.

Hopefully, it would speed up the healing process.

Pressing my hand onto Azriel's cheek, I cursed under my breath. He was icy cold, his skin clammy.

I had to get him warmed up. Now.

My eyes darted over to the fireplace, then to the windows, and a knot formed in my throat.

Even though it was getting darker by the minute, the smoke of a fire could still give away our location, even with the storm.

I turned back towards the shadowsinger, who's hair was curling with dampness and melted snow, his torso bare, his wet pants clinging to his legs.

I needed to get him out of those; he didn't have a chance of warming up when he was still wearing the damp, clammy clothes.

Which meant stripping him.

Even though I was chattering with cold, I felt heat bleed into my cheeks.

“Gods, get yourself together,”, I mumbled to myself, moving forward and beginning to unbuckle the sheaths wrapped around Azriel's thighs. I tried to avoid looking at him; his chiselled torso, the smooth curve and width of his shoulders, the ink swirling over the planes of his chest, tried to not think about the rising feeling in my chest that came to life whenever his amber eyes settled on me for too long.

Letting the daggers slip to the floor, I unlaced Azriel's boots, cursing softly at how stiff my fingers were. I could barely feel them as I tugged the black leather off before turning around, blaming the cold for my trembling limbs and for my inability to unbuckle his belt on the first try. Then, stubbornly not staring at his bare skin, I tugged his pants down his legs. They were soaked like the rest of his clothes, making it difficult to tug the thick winter leathers off his skin.

Dropping the pants, I felt the heat in my cheeks deepen and quickly averted my eyes, sliding my arm around Azriel's waist and grunting softly when I maneuvered him off the table.

“Alright, come on.” Staggering slightly, I tried to ignore the weight of his muscled body as it leaned heavily onto mine, the feeling of his harsh breath, his lips brushing over my temple and his skin smooth and cool against my fingers.

It proved impossible.

Somehow, I managed to get Azriel under the covers. Turning him onto his side so his wings weren't in the way, I tucked him under the blanket and threw the furs over him, shivering as I turned around and spread out his dripping wet, icy cold clothes over the chairs. My own were beginning to feel like they'd been frozen by the snow and wind, and when I caught a look at myself in one of the windows, I felt my heart drop at the sight of my slightly blue lips.

Crap.

Quickly throwing a quick look over to where Azriel was laying on the bed, buried under the furs, still breathing too harsh, too uneven, I turned around again, feeling something thump harshly against my ribs. Then I swallowed and quickly started peeling off my own clothes.

My leathers stuck to my skin, wet and clammy, and I hissed in frustration as I kicked off my thick pants. Suddenly, I realised how cold the air in the cabin really was, making my limbs shake even more as I rubbed my stiff fingers over my thighs before quickly spreading my clothes over the rest of the furniture. Then I hesitated, looking down at the bra and top I was wearing over my underwear, both sticking to my skin, making goosebumps rise on my body.

I needed to get them off, but if I did – I was practically completely bare.

For a second, I was still, just breathing quickly and feeling myself shiver. Then I cursed softly and quickly shed both the undershirt and the bra, throwing them over the backrest of a chair. Crossing my arms quickly over my chest to cover myself, I turned around, my eyes getting caught on Azriel's frame. He had started to shiver violently.

I felt the overwhelming urge to grab one or two of the furs and curl up on the armchair by the unlit fireplace. But I could feel the icy cold seep through me, now settled in my bones, could feel myself grow number.

Staring at Azriel's trembling form for another second, I whispered a curse under my breath, then I darted towards the bed and slid under the blankets.

Immediately, my body started shivering more. It felt like now that I wasn't moving anymore, the cold invaded every inch of me, causing my teeth to chatter loudly as I curled up on my side under the heavy furs, my damp hair sticking to my bare skin as I stared at Azriel's face in the warm flicker of the candles. He looked too pale, his breath too labored.

Swallowing, I scooted closer under the blankets until I could feel his body, just shy of touching my curled up form. Then I forced myself to relax, to stop the shivering, focusing on Azriel´s face, the crunch of his brows, like even unconcious, he was fighting, angry.

The thought made my lips twitch softly.

Curling up tighter, I buried myself in the sheets and breathed out. Suddenly, the exhaustion crashed over my like a wave, my limbs burning not only from the cold but from dragging Azriel through the water and the snow. My eyes drooped, and I had to fight to keep them open, clenching my jaw.

I couldn't fall asleep, I had to stay awake enough to listen for anything. To, for once, keep watch over Azriel, in case anything, anyone found us after all.

But the woods outside were quiet except for the howling wind.

I dozed off a few times. I didn't fall into a deep sleep, my body too cold, my heart beating too quickly, my ears too sensitive to any sound coming from beyond the windows, where the world became darker and darker. But the exhaustion soon overwhelmed me, and my body took what minutes of shut-eye it could pry from the grip of my will. The rest of the time, I stared at Azriel's face in the light of the candles, something thrumming heavily against my ribs.

Please be okay.

I was slowly slipping away into a deeper sleep when the mattress jerked. My eyes flew open, and my heart skipped into my throat when I found another pair staring right at me.

Azriel's eyes were blown as his gaze slowly tracked over the sliver of my bare shoulders and collarbones visible from where the furs had slipped from his abrupt waking. Then his throat worked, and I could see the moment he seemed to tear himself out of it, could see the confused but soft, slightly feverish expression bleed from his eyes as his iris narrowed in and darkness settled over his face.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, and Azriel tore his gaze up, eyes flaring as they pierced into mine.

He didn't need to open his mouth for me to know exactly what was going on in his head.

Explain. Now.

I breathed out and dropped my head onto the pillow, mumbling: “Calm down.” Curling tighter into the furs wrapped around me and trying to keep my teeth from chattering, I grumbled: “This was not how I imagined this going either.” Trying to ignore the heat bleeding into my cheeks, I watched him, my voice becoming softer when I mumbled: “You fell into a lake when they shot you down.”

Azriel blinked, and his eyes found my hair that was still damp and cold, sticking to my neck. His pupils constricted, and something flared in his eyes.

“You pulled me out.”

His voice sent a tingle down my spine, low and deep, so deep, hoarse with exhaustion but cutting, his eyes blazing with something I didn't recognize.

I shrugged softly, pulling the blankets tighter around me as I sent him a smile that wasn't half as mischievous as usual.

“Yes, well, I thought about how much you would hate me doing that and just couldn't resist. You know how I like to push your buttons.”

Azriel's jaw twitched, and something burning grew in his eyes as they pierced mine.

I felt my lips twitch in a weak attempt at a cheeky smirk. “That would be the moment to thank me for saving your life.”

Azriel's eyes narrowed, and I could see the muscles in his cheeks shift. “You exposed yourself, left yourself defenseless. That was reckless and stupid.”

His voice was cutting, icy, but I just stared at him, feeling something hot bloom in my chest as my heart skipped high against my ribs.

I blinked and felt my lips curve softly.

“You're welcome.” I turned to slide of the mattress, shivering as my bare feet hit the cold floors. Wrapping the furs around me, I dropped onto my knees next to the fireplace, reaching out to close my fingers around my pants. The leather was icy cold and wet.

“Damn it,”, I whispered under my breath.

I looked over my shoulder and found Azriel's eyes on my face, something raging in his iris, something I didn't recognize.

“What?” My gaze flickered over his face, something skipping softly against my ribs. Then I blinked and looked him over, feeling my lips curve into a cheeky smirk. “Don't worry. I didn't look anywhere important.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's eyes dip towards his bare chest, and if I hadn't known any better, I thought I saw a faint blush spread over his cheekbones. Then he tore his eyes away and clenched his jaw.

“You left yourself completely defenseless.”

I turned back around, staring at the fireplace as I felt the smile bleed off my face.

“Yes, well, I wasn't exactly thinking,”, I mumbled, something tightening harshly in my chest.

Even from the corner of my eye, I saw Azriel's gaze flare incredulously, his deep voice slicing through me.

“Not thinking gets you killed.”

I swallowed. My heart thrummed against my ribs as the moment I had watched Azriel fall flashed before my eyes.

“What if the soldiers had been at the lake, what if they'd gotten there by the time you came out of the water?” Azriel's jaw clenched, his voice tight, unrelenting. “You didn't think, and it could have cost you your life –“

“Why do you care; if I hadn't made it, you wouldn't have either, but we did; so what is your problem?!” I turned to stare at him, my breath hitching as an ache spread through my chest, and shadows whipped up the walls as Azriel growled.

“How can you be so reckless when it comes to your own fucking life –“

Something under my ribs shattered.

“I thought I'd lost you!!”

My desperate scream caused Azriel to fall silent like I had slapped him across the face.

I stared at him, breathing heavily, my body trembling as I barely fought the burning feeling of tears behind my eyes.

“You asshole!” My voice was shaking even though I was willing it not to, a bright aching feeling burning in my chest, flaring like that flicker in Azriel's eyes.

“I saw you fall, and then the lake and I thought –“ My voice broke as I stared at him, an all-consuming pain growing under my ribs.

“You were drowning.” My hands trembled, my throat closing up tight as I blinked against the tears threatening to spill over my cheeks. “I wasn't thinking about anything but that, and that there was no fucking way I was going to let it happen! And you are a fucking bastard for berating me for it, just because what I did doesn't fit with your strategic expectations, or because you think it was reckless, when I thought I had lost you!” My next breath shuddered as I stared at him, my limbs trembling.

Azriel's throat worked as his eyes pierced mine, but for once, he was completely silent.

“You think that it was stupid? That it was reckless and emotional?” I felt heat grow in my chest; familiar, angry heat, and I scrambled to push myself to my feet, glaring at him as I trembled.

“Well, I don't give a shit about what you think! I would have dragged you through that gods damned snowstorm until my legs gave out, even if it meant freezing in the end!” I balled my hands into fists. “There's no fucking way I would have ever left you!” Blinking against the tears gathering in my eyes, I swallowed, staring at him.

“Because that's the next thing you would have said, right?” I breathed a bitter smile, something tightening harshly in my chest. “That the rational thing would have been for me to leave you behind? That there was no way I could have carried you until I found a village, let alone all the way back to Velaris? That pulling you out of that lake and taking you with me meant leaving myself defenseless, to those bastards and that fucking cold out there, and that I should have never done that?” I fought the way my breath hitched and tears pricked my eyes as I glared at him. “I don't give a shit about all of that. Because I don't give up. I don't give people up, and I sure as hell never leave anyone behind, especially –“ I cut myself off, biting the inside of my cheek.

Especially not you.

I swallowed and curled my fingers into the fur wrapped around me as I returned Azriel's blazing stare, even as something closed around my throat, causing my voice to sound hoarse as I mumbled: “I would have rather frozen to death with you than leave you behind.”

Azriel blinked again. His jaw worked as his eyes flickered over my face, and something flashed through them. But I turned away before I could find out what it was, my chest tightening as I angrily wiped away the tear that rolled over my cheek, treacherous and letting on that maybe, I gave quite a shit after all.

“Our clothes are still too wet.” My voice was thick and a little shaky, but I refused to look at Azriel as I stared at my pants before turning my eyes towards the windows, behind which, the woods were completely dark.

“Without warmth, it's going to take too long for them to dry. And your body's too focused on keeping you from freezing to properly heal you, so you need to warm up.” I started pulling logs from the stack of firewood next to the fireplace, mumbling hoarsely: “Let's hope it's dark and windy enough that no one can trace the smoke.”

I could feel Azriel's eyes on me as I built and stoked the fire, my fingers trembling not from the cold. Something was constricting in my chest, rage towards this stubborn male swirling under my ribs, mixed with something aching and fluttering that made my heart quiver.

I stoked the fire until I could feel the warmth of the flames on my face. Shivering, I wrapped the furs tighter around me.

Just the thought of being close to Azriel caused something to tighten harshly in my chest. But I could feel cold crawl up from the floorboards, and the desire not to freeze was stronger than the one that told me stay away from the male on the bed.

Pushing myself back onto my feet, I turned around and, without looking at Azriel, slid back under the covers. Turning my back towards the shadowsinger, I curled up, my limbs trembling with cold and something else that had closed tightly around my chest.

I could feel Azriel shift behind me, slowly moving back under the blankets. I tucked myself in tighter, my teeth chattering softly.

The flames in the fireplace started to crackle slowly. I stared at their light dancing over the floorboards, tried to ignore the presence right behind me. But I couldn't ignore his scent, night chilled cedar mixed with the metallic scent of blood, and how it made something twinge in my chest. My mind kept looping back towards the fact that if I shifted back just a few inches, my body would press into hi-

“You're shaking.”

The low vibration of Azriel's voice trickled over my spine. It was deep and clipped, and I pressed my lips together.

“Yes, well, I'm cold.” I tried to scowl, but my voice sounded weak, not at all angry or sharp like I had hoped it would be.

Swallowing, I stared at the light of the fire dancing over the walls. I could feel Azriel's stare piercing the back of my head, could sense the tension in his jaw and body –

The mattress shifted, then I felt something brush against my back.

I froze.

Scarred, calloused skin gently grazed over my side, and my breath hitched, getting caught in my throat.

Azriel's fingers curled against my skin, like he was hesitating, thinking about pulling back, or not quite in control of his own body – then his hand splayed over my skin, slowly sliding down onto my stomach, and carefully, Azriel pulled me backwards into his chest.

My heart dipped. Then it stilled.

I could feel Azriel shift behind me, could feel the tension rippling through every part of his muscles. His hand slid over my stomach, skin cold against mine as he slowly wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed me into his chest.

Suddenly, something twinged between my legs and in my heart.

I could feel every ridge of his torso in my back. Every curve of muscle, every inch of smooth, icy cold skin pressing against mine. His legs came up to thread through mine, and his tall, solid body slowly curled around me until there was no place we weren't touching.

Swallowing harshly, I stared at the light of the fire dancing over the walls, my breath fluttering in my throat and my heart pounding against my ribs. I could feel every shift of muscle in Azriel's body, could feel the tension in his chest as he tightened his grip around me. Then he carefully dropped his forehead against the back of my head and gently tapped his fingers against my ribs six times.

My breath hitched, and my heart stilled.

The tapping was something between Mor and I, to communicate when were in the same room but not able to talk to each other. I hadn´t even realised Azriel knew about it, but - of course he did.

He always knew.

One tap meant I'm here, two taps danger, three taps you okay?, four taps need a distraction, five taps for they're lying, and six taps -

Something rose in my chest in a wild flutter.

I´m sorry.

I swallowed and stared at the wall.

Azriel's hand was still for a second, and I could feel the tension ripple through him. Then his fingers gently tapped against my skin again.

One, two, three. Four, five, six, seven.

Behind you.

My heart swelled in a weak, trapped giggle.

For a moment, I hesitated. Then I slowly twisted around under the blankets, and my breath hitched in my throat when my eyes found Azriel's only a few inches away.

My head settled on the pillow. The fire crackled as I swallowed softly and stared, and Azriel's iris shifted as he stared back. His eyes looked less stormy, glinting like molten caramel in the warm flickering lights as they pierced mine.

Slowly, his fingers brushed over my bare spine.

I barely suppressed a shudder, my lips parting, and Azriel's eyes dropped. His pupils expanded, and something flared in his eyes.

A muscle in his jaw shifted, then he mumbled, his voice quiet and rough: “After pulling me out of the lake, did you call me a stuck up idiot?”

My breath hitched in my throat, and my eyes darted up to meet his as they widened a little. But Azriel just stared at me, and behind that strange blazing fire in his eyes, it almost looked like they were twinkling a little.

“No,”, I whispered and blinked, and just for a second, the corner of Azriel's lips twitched. His gaze pierced mine.

“You also called me beautiful.”

I stared at him, something fluttering wildly against my ribs when I mumbled back hoarsely: “No, I called you stupid.”

Azriel's eyes flared, the gold in his iris melting together as his gaze dragged over my face.

Swallowing, I tore my eyes away before the fluttering thing in my chest could break free. Dropping my head a little, I reached out before I could stop myself and carefully brushed my fingers over the bandage wrapped around Azriel's ribs.

A deep sound broke from his throat, and my breath got caught in my throat as my eyes darted up again, just in time to see a muscle in Azriel's jaw twitch, his pupils blown as he stared at me.

“You're freezing.” Something dipped over in my chest at the rasp in his tight voice, and I swallowed and stared up at him.

“I could think of some ways to warm up.”

It was supposed to be a cheeky taunt. But it came out breathless when I felt Azriel's scarred hand brush slowly over my bare skin.

Azriel's fingers stilled. There was something in his eyes as he stared at me, that strange blazing flicker I had seen before, something raging and all-consuming that seeped through his carefully crafted walls.

A muscle in Azriel's jaw shifted as his gaze dragged over my face. Then his hand brushed up over my ribs, rising from under the blanket.

His rough skin against my neck made me shiver, a tremble running down my spine that suddenly had nothing to do with being cold when his fingers slipped into my hair. They threaded through the strands, and I felt my next breath shudder when his thumb slowly traced over the side of my throat.

Azriel's eyes moved slowly over mine, and that look in his eyes flashed, grew stronger. Then he lightly tugged me forward, and when I followed, my breathing growing shorter, he dipped his head.

His nose brushed against mine, and I reached up like reflex, my fingers trembling a little when I wrapped them around Azriel's wrist as his hot breath hit my lips.

Azriel stilled, fingers still threaded through my hair, lips nothing but a breath away from mine. I thought I could feel his lashes on my cheeks, the heat of his pulse under my fingers. Something was thrumming under my ribs, growing stronger with every second.

I sucked in a soft, trembling breath when I realised he was waiting.

The thrum in my chest grew unbearable, and I moved, dipping my head and pressing my lips slowly against Azriel's jaw.

His fingers curled into my hair, muscles shifting under my hand wrapped around his wrist, and I thought I felt something rumble in his chest.

I slid lower. My lips traced over the shape of his throat, feeling it work under the featherlight press of a kiss against the side of it. My teeth grazed over his skin, and Azriel's fingers scraped lightly over my scalp when a grunt escaped his chest that sounded a little strangled.

Dipping my head, I carefully pressed my lips onto the curve where his neck met his shoulder, and my heart rose, flaring.

I hadn't known the taste of someone's skin could do this – make you feel drunk off of it, cause a rush to fill your body, make your skin tingle and heart race.

Tracing the shape of Azriel's collarbone with my lips, I left a slow, careful kiss on his cool, inked skin before following the shape of his chest. My hand slid lower, and I felt the thrum of his heart under my palm, quick and erratic. It made my own swerve sharply, and Azriel's breath shuddered when I dragged my lips over his smooth skin.

Looking up at him through my lashes, I felt something jolt right down into my lower stomach, my own breath hitching and something hot rushing through my chest when my eyes met Azriel's, fixed onto my face, the amber flickering in the light of the fire, pupils blown. His jaw worked, and my spine tingled.

Slowly sliding down his body, I traced my lips over his chest. Leaving slow, careful kisses on the swirls of his tattoo, the silver lines of faded scars, I felt his muscles shift and flex under my featherlight touches. My fingers brushed over the bandage wrapped around his ribs, and a sound left Azriel that caused my heart to tilt over when I carefully pressed a kiss onto the spot where the arrow had pierced him.

Somewhere buried deep in my head, the thought stirred that this didn't feel like it was just about warming each other up.

Not with the way Azriel was staring down at me, something flaring in his darkened eyes, his breath out of rhythm, his body reacting to the smallest brush of my fingers with a shudder like it was the answer to a long lost prayer.

My lips traced over the hard ridges of Azriel's stomach. Following the lines, I felt his muscles shift and clench beneath his smooth skin when I pressed my lips slowly against his side, my tongue tracing lightly over his skin, and Azriel's hand fell out of my hair to grab onto the sheets. His knuckles turned white as I slid down, and something curled and tightened in my lower stomach when I traced my lips over the sharp line disappearing into his underwear.

Azriel's hips bucked upward, and a low, pressed grunt left him that caused tingling warmth to wash over me, my stomach twisting.

I gently nudged my nose against his skin, then I raised my head, and something rose in my chest in a wild flutter when my eyes met Azriel's, his jaw locked as his gaze burned into mine until something closed around my throat and I barely kept myself from swallowing.

Slowly, I shifted. Then I slung my leg over his waist.

Azriel's pupils seemed to grow darker, and without looking away, feeling that steady thrum in my throat, I slid down his body.

The sheets and furs went with me, but Azriel didn't seem to notice. His eyes were transfixed on my face. Then my hand slid under his waistband, and his expression slipped, jaw going lax and eyes fluttering when I wrapped my fingers around his cock.

Slowly pulling him out of his pants, I felt something dip and plunge in my lower stomach at how hard he already was. Swallowing, I carefully ran my thumb over his tip, coaxing a low curse from him. Then I looked up through my lashes and sent Azriel a small, cheeky smile.

“Tell me if I'm doing something you don't like.”

The shadowsinger's eyes flashed as a choked sound left him, and I dipped my head and wrapped my lips around him.

“Fuck.”

A breathy grunt broke from Azriel's chest, his head fell back as his hands fisted the sheets, and I gently ran my tongue over the underside of his cock before sucking him into my mouth.

Incoherent sounds spilled from Azriel's lips, deep grunts and rough muttered curses that made my stomach twinge as I started to stroke him slowly. His blazing eyes were dragging over my face, the muscles in his stomach twitching as my hand worked what my lips couldn't reach, my tongue running over the underside of his cock as I took him deep, beginning to suck.

“That's it.” Azriel's hands fisting the sheets trembled as he grunted breathlessly, his throat working and eyes squeezing shut for a second like he was trying to reign himself in, but the words stumbled past his lips, deep and gravelly.

“Fuck, just like that.”

My heart swerved sharply as I drank him in, his cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled and body heaving the longer I worked him. I twisted my hand a little, and he grunted, head falling back and hips bucking. I could feel him pulse, could tell he was getting closer, closer to that edge, his breath shuddering.

Azriel groaned. His fingers slid into my hair, threading through the strands and beginning to guide me, like he just couldn't help himself anymore, had to touch me, his grip tight as his flashing eyes followed my movements. My teeth grazed the underside of his head, and Azriel grunted, his voice strangled.

“If you don't stop I'll -“

I looked up at him through my lashes and sent him a crooked, cheeky smile that made him break off with a grunt. Then I swirled my tongue around his tip and sucked him into my mouth, and Azriel unravelled with a sound so deep, it vibrated through my very bones.

His head fell back, his back arched and his hips bucked, and Azriel came with a shudder. His load hit the back of my throat, and I swallowed it all, the salty taste causing my eyes to flutter.

Sucking gently for a few more seconds, I slowly let him go, gently brushing my thumb over his base, and my eyes met Azriel's, flickering amber in the firelight, his skin glowing with a thin layer of sweat as his burning eyes dragged over my face. His grip tightened in my hair, and he tugged, pulling me up his body.

My breath hitched when our noses brushed. Azriel's eyes looked like molten gold in the light, the flecks all swimming together in his hazel iris as it flickered over my face, and I felt my heart rise, trembling –

“Get on your back.”

I needed a second to realize the meaning behind the words mumbled against my skin, so deep and low and like a tremble running down my spine.

A wave of heat washed through me, my stomach twisted tight, and I blinked and pulled back my head, feeling my brows crunch incredulously.

“You're still hurt. No way; you're staying like this.”

Azriel's eyes darkened.

“Now.”

“No.” I glared back, which really, was ridiculous, because just the thought of him between my legs caused the pulsing feeling in my stomach to intensify tenfold, and I knew he could sense it, saw it in the way his nostrils flared and eyes flashed, but –

Azriel's hands closed around my sides, sliding my underwear down my legs; he groaned deep in his chest, then rough scarred fingers dug into my skin, right where my thighs and hips met, and my heart dipped and fell when Azriel dragged me up, up his torso, up over his shoulders.

“Wha-“ My breath got caught in my throat, and I hastily grabbed onto the headboard to not loose my balance, my eyes widening when I realised what he was doing.

My gaze whipped down; I tried to lift my hips, and Azriel wrapped his arms over my thighs and dragged me down, his piercing eyes meeting mine.

“No; I'm too –“

Azriel's tongue sliced through my folds, and I jolted and whimpered a string of trembling curses, my hips bucking down onto his face as my stomach twisted and my spine melted into burning, glowing matter.

Azriel groaned, the vibration travelling through me, and I dug my fingers into the headboard, feeling my heart tip over and insides clench.

“Shit – I –“ I tried to twist away in a weak attempt of trying to keep my weight off of him, but Azriel dragged me down further, not seeming to give a fuck about suffocating as he licked a broad stripe through my folds. His eyes flutterered, and he gave another grunt.

“Perfect.”

The low mumble rose up my spine, so deep and gravelly, my insides tightened around nothing. My breath shuddered, my brows crunched as my lips parted, and Azriel buried his face between my legs.

Whimpered curses spilled from my throat, senseless, blending into each other as my limbs trembled and Azriel's tongue traced the shape of me, mapping it like he was trying to commit to memory. Then he lazily circled my clit, and my lips parted, brows crunching as my hips bucked down in reflex and a whimper built in my throat.

My eyes flew down, and I could feel myself clench when my eyes met Azriel's, burning and flaring as he dipped his chin.

My breath hitched in a whine, and my hips spasmed when Azriel licked over my clit and sucked. His grip tightened, and the shadowsinger hummed, his nose nudging against my skin as his hazy, hooded eyes tracked over my face, molten like gold. My left hand flew down to bury in his dark hair as he ground my hips down onto his face, and I whimpered.

My body shook, the reason now far from freezing as my spine shuddered and hips bucked and waves of heat washed over me as I felt the world tip. Then Azriel's tongue slid into me, and my insides shuddered.

A breathless sound left me, I clenched, and Azriel groaned, tugging me down, and my head fell back as his tongue started to lazily dip in and out of me, circling, lapping until my body melted into a puddle. My fingers dug into his hair, nails scraping over his scalp as my hips rolled down without me being able to control it, but Azriel just gave a deep sound that travelled through me, his heavily hooded eyes fixed hungrily onto my face.

A knot formed in my lower stomach. Slowly, it build, twisting and churning as Azriel carried me towards something that would probably make me lose every last bit of control over my body, sucking on my clit, his eyes trained onto my face, coaxing every little reaction out of me, from my trembling fingers to my eyes rolling and head falling back, my thighs shaking next to his head –

Azriel's hand shifted, sliding down over my stomach. His tongue slid into me, and his thumb found my clit, circling tightly.

The world exploded, shattering as heat washed over me and the knot inside me bursted into a thousand stars. My hips spasmed, my back arching as my body tightened and loud, trembling noises left me that caused my fingers to curl and chest to tighten, my spine bleeding into nothingness, waves of blinding pleasure racking through me and causing my body to shudder and tremble. My hips jerked, and something bloomed in my stomach when Azriel groaned against me.

It took what felt like a lifetime until the sensations slowly dispersed and my spine stopped shuddering, and yet, Azriel was still lapping lazily at me, causing my hips twitch and a soft sound to break from my throat.

Slowly sliding my fingers out of his hair, my joints weak from clutching onto the silky strands, I weakly held onto the headboard and lifted my hips. My thighs trembled lightly, and Azriel's hands slid up to close around my hips, steading me, his head tipping back to stare up at me as I slowly started crawling down his body.

When I was hovering above his chest, I dropped my gaze. My heart rose into my throat, something dipped under my ribs, and I stilled.

Azriel's face was only an inch away. His iris was nothing but a ring of golden flecks around his blown pupils, his skin no longer pale but slightly flushed, the crease between his brows almost gone even as his jaw flexed, his gaze dragging over my face, and his lips -

My chest tightened as my breath hitched and I stared at his swollen, glistening lips. My hips bucked back as my spine shuddered, and Azriel's lids fluttered heavily, eyes blazing as his hand slipped onto my back, pushing me down, down until –

My nose grazed his, and something turned over in my chest when my own scent hit my lungs.

A deep sound rumbled through the shadowsinger's chest, his hand slid up to cup the side of my neck, and he dragged me down.

His breath ghosted over my lips, and my own hitched.

Azriel's nose softly nudged against mine, his thumb slowly tracing the curve of my throat. I could feel him, the warmth radiating from his skin, could feel his scent invading my senses and causing my heart to shudder, could feel something building in my chest as my fingers trembled.

Azriel's lips brushed over mine. His grip tightened, a strangled sound built in his chest, and he tugged me forward and crashed his lips onto mine.

My heart faltered. Then the whole world stilled.

Azriel kissed me like he'd been starving.

A breathless whimper tore from my throat, my fingers dug into the pillows, and Azriel groaned softly. His fingers slid further into my hair, then his lips parted mine and his tongue slid into my mouth.

My breath faltered as the ground seemed to sway. I clutched onto the sheets, a desperate sound building in my chest, and Azriel's hand curled into my hair as he kissed me harder, more feverish. He was kissing me like he'd been wondering what it would be like for centuries and now that he'd had a taste - nothing else would ever be enough.

The thought made something pang painfully in my chest, and I whimpered, my body curving into his as I settled on his hips, my hands sliding to the sides of his neck, tipping his head, and Azriel's breath shuddered in a deep moan as his thumb brushed over the side of my throat. His tongue swirled lazily around mine, then his teeth caught my bottom lip, and a soft whimper broke from my throat as something clenched in my stomach.

Azriel's grip tightened, dragging me down towards him, his nose brushing past mine. I could feel something travel through his hands that felt like a tremble. Then he pulled me in with a hoarse noise and kissed me again, deep and hard and feverish as his fingers curled into my hair, and something in my chest rose in a wild flutter.

part II

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