Trial of the Valkyrie

It's Golden

** NSFW

Chapter Twenty-Three - It's Golden

Daylight - Taylor Swift

"I know exactly what you are... and I think it's magnificent."

― K.J. Sutton in Fortuna Sworn

G     W     Y     N

After Azriel had set Gwyn down on the foot of the bed, he'd muttered a polite 'excuse me' and had promptly removed several daggers and throwing knives from beneath his pillows, tossing them on the navy velvet armchair against the wall. Gwyn made a mental note to give him shit for     that later.

  Right now though, she was at a loss for any jokes or teasing jibes. She was all hunger, want, and weak knees.

  Azriel yanked his shirt off his head, sliding it over his wings and flinging it to the corner of the room in one fluid motion. He ran his hand through his hair in a deeply distracting gesture that made Gwyn's stomach clench, then motioned to her. "I won't make a move until you take off those leathers, Berdara." A command but a question.

  Her eyes raked over his bare torso, drinking in the cut of his abdomen. His graceful, muscled arms. The strong column of his throat. The ravenous glint in his gaze. Her mouth was dry, and before she knew it she was unbuckling the straps of her top, then shimmying out of her trousers. All the while, Azriel leaned lazily against the wall, watching. His teeth bit into his lower lip, the edges curving up and making Gwyn's breathing speed.

  He liked what he saw. That much was clear. Every dip, every curve, every freckle was to his liking.

  When she was sitting bare before him on the bed, she nodded at her pants that lay at his feet. "Check the pocket."

  The shadowsinger laughed softly, and stooped to grab the leathers from the carpet. With long, skilled fingers, he reached within the pocket – then froze.

  His eyes flitted to hers and she smiled wickedly, "I liked what your shadows did with my hands last time. But I was hoping you could use this maybe instead."

  Azriel's grin was rakish and he withdrew the length of rumpled white ribbon from the pocket of her discarded leathers. He began to wind and unwind it around his fingers, making Gwyn wonder what else he could do with those hands.

  "Bondage then," he said, coming to stand right before her. "Say please."

  Gwyn would not. She would not because she knew Azriel wanted it just as much as she did. She would not relent and be the one to beg first. "Why should I?"

  The shadowsinger chuckled darkly. "If you don't, then I'll choose how you're bound." The ribbon wound around his right hand, he placed his palms on her knees and slowly began to spread her legs. "I'll make certain the only part of you that touches me is the wettest one."

  "And you think I would mind that?" asked the priestess, angling her head.

  He lifted a single brow. "Do you think I'm blind, wife?"

  Gwyn trembled as he spread her legs wider.

  "Do you think I can't see how you want to drag your hands over my chest?" He lowered his head so his lips brushed the shell of her ear. "You think I don't know you want to stroke my cock before I fit it inside you?" A chuckle that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "You want to please me just as much as I wish to please you. You can't pretend otherwise."