Hands On

Gwyn can't keep her hands off Azriel. She had thought the intensity of her desire for his hands might wane, but if anything, it has grown stronger. The phrase 'joined at the hip' seems insufficient to describe their interactions. 'Fused at the fingers' is far more accurate. Azriel's hands find her the second training is complete. Gwyn feels certain he would hold her hand during training if Cassian would allow it. They travel the halls of the House together, taking turns to lead and follow. Sometimes Gwyn thinks they wander without any destination, simple content to walk hand and hand.

Joined hands are also very useful for pulling the other into empty rooms and darkened alcoves. Their hands tangle in hair, slip under clothing, and generally pull the other closer. Gwyn learns that Azriel is a thorough and attentive lover. He is singularly focused on her during every encounter, ensuring that she is satisfied and sated. But it leaves Gwyn wondering if there is more she can do for him. He treats her carefully, gently, but the filthy things he whispers in her ear hint at darker, rougher desires.

She tentatively broaches the subject one afternoon as they lie tangled in the sheets. "Is there something that you might like for us to try next time?" She is sure that she is blushing clear up to the roots of her hair. Gwyn keeps her focus on their hands, where his thumb is rubbing across his knuckles.

"Why? Is there something you've read in those books you would enjoy?" His tone is light and irreverent. Gwyn knows that she could easily fall into the trap of bantering with him, but she resolves to remain focused on her objective.

"I want to know what you would like," she emphasizes the word 'you.' In for a penny, in for a pound; she might as well come right out and say it. "We could be rough if you'd like. You can spank me or you could fuck my mouth or-"

"I want you to tie me up." Azriel suddenly cuts her off. Gwyn feels relief at first, that Azriel has stopped her from continuing to list every depraved fantasy she's envisioned they might live out. But then his request finally registers. Not something he wants to do to her, but something he wants her to do to him.

"I-I can do that." She stutters slightly; distracted as her blood heats at the thought of Azriel restrained and at her mercy.

Azriel pulls her in for a kiss. Gwyn slides over him and her hands pull his wrists above his head. His body instantly responds to the position; she can feel him rising again between her legs.

"N-Now?" Gwyn is distracted again as he growls against her ear.

Azriel nods in reply. His eyes are dark with desire. "You'll find a length of ribbon in the bedside drawer. Bind my wrists to the headboard." Gwyn is shocked that he was prepared for this.

Gwyn retrieves the ribbon and sets to work looping it through the headboard and then securing it around his wrists. When she is done, she rocks back onto her heels to survey the male now at her mercy. Gwyn knows that he's not really trapped; that he could break the bonds she placed on him as easily as breathing. But she notes the change in his bearing all the same. Azriel's entire body is on alert; eager, straining for what is to come. His cock fully erect again, already a bead of pre-come leaking from the tip. The sight makes her mouth go dry.

"And now what?" Her own voice is husky. Clearly, she is as affected by this as he is.

"What every you want, gorgeous. Use me however you want."

Gwyn shivers at his words. Scooting up, she raises a leg over his head. Placing her sex above his face, she hesitates for beat. Looking down at Azriel, she searches for confirmation of his consent. He gives a slight nod and then she is lowering herself to him. Gwyn moans at the first contact and then she is gone, overwhelmed by the way Azriel feasts on her. She had thought that he had shown her the true talents of his tongue before, but this experience seems to transcend anything she has known before. She feels herself spiraling higher, Azriel doing all that he can to help her chase her release, but she can't quite seem to find her peak.

Why can't she get there? She has never failed to find release with Azriel before. Gwyn sobs, desperate for an orgasm that lingers just out of reach. She grips the headboard, her knuckles white, as she grinds against his face. Nothing she tries and nothing he does is able to tip her over the edge. What is different? What is keeping her orgasm at bay? Through the fog of desperation, one thing registers in her mind in response to her body's pleas. Hands. Azriel's hands. Just before every orgasm she has distinctly felt his hands on her. But now they are restrained, bound, kept from her. Willing to test out her wild theory, Gwyn drops a hand from the headboard and laces her fingers with Azriel's. She feels his scared fingers against hers and then her orgasm barrels through her.

"Holy shit," Gwyn slumps over, boneless. Her gaze is fixed at first on his hands, his beautifully scarred hands, before dipping to Azriel's face. "Azriel-"

"I need you. Need to be inside you." His breath is coming in pants as his arms flex against the ribbon.

Gwyn nods. She'll tell him later. She sinks down onto him, their moans mingling as she easily takes him in to the hilt. Her body has never been more ready for him. Bracing her hands on his chest, Gwyn begins to ride him. She can tell he is close; he was already close before they started. He snaps his hips up into her, throwing her off the rhythm she set.

"Come with me," he grits out, holding off on his release so she can join him in ecstasy. Gwyn needs to tell him now, but she's too far gone to get the words out. Instead, she leans over, searching under his pillow for his dagger. The blade sings as she removes it from its sheathe. Azriel looks up in surprise as she lowers it toward his wrists. "Gwyn, what are you-"

Gwyn deftly slices the ribbon, freeing his wrists, and tosses the dagger to the floor. "Hands. I need your hands." Azriel is shock still. "Gods-damnit, Azriel. Put your hands on me!" Azriel surges forward and wraps his hands around Gwyn. She cries out as she feels them travel up her back. Her hands grip tightly to his hair as she holds his head to her breast. Grinding against him, she holds him impossibly close. Gwyn comes first, Azriel following her into oblivion shortly after.

"Fuck, Gwyn." Azriel seems to be in shock.

"I'm sorry. I know you wanted me to tie you up. But I couldn't see it through. I needed...Well, I think you know what I needed."

"Don't you dare apologize for anything, Gwyn. That was- Fuck. Do you really need my hands on you to come?" She nods. "Fuck, the things I can do with that knowledge. I could tie you up and edge you until you were sobbing for release. I could-"

Gwyn cuts him off with a kiss. Blushing furiously, she says, "One thing at a time, Azriel. Let's neither of us get overwhelmed."

"Too late. You've already overwhelmed me. You know there's no way I'm ever letting you go, right?"

"Who says you're the one holding on to me? What if it is me who is holding on to you?"

"You're right, Valkyrie. Of the two of us, you are definitely the one holding on to me."

"These hands are mine now." Gwyn lifts his hand to her mouth and places a kiss on the center of his palm. "Don't you forget it."