A Song of Faithless Shadows

78. Yeah?

TW- mentions of SA
Gwyneth

My heart was beating fast as he brought me into the bedroom, thundering in my chest like some afternoon storm. His was beating quite fast too now that I thought about it— then again, I thought that was the hammering in my ears.

He glances at me, my hand cradled in his. "I'm nervous," I admit with a slippery smile, cheeks pink. I didn't want him to know how scared I was. I don't want to be scared, best to reduce it to nerves.

"I'm nervous too," he admits gently, running his thumb over my knuckles. I press my lips together, pleased that the feeling is mutual. It makes me feel like I'm on the same plain as him, like we are equal in it. Maybe we are equals. "Trust me?"

His hand slides down my arm gently, the grace of his scarred knuckles against my skin drawing my breath. "Of course," I whisper, biting my lip. "Just... kiss me?"

He catches my eyes meaningfully before slipping his fingers across my cheek, cradling the back of my neck gently. His lips meet mine, and my heart rate crescendos to an intolerable thud before it regulates and relaxes, and I fall into him with a sigh.

He touches me with reverence, keeping his hands at a respectful spot on my waist as I acclimate to the intensity of it all. I know he'd never think so, but he was remarkably talented at adapting, seeing what I need, when I need it, monitoring my body language. It was like a language only he knew, something ancient and exclusive to him.

Gods, I love him with all of me.

I slip my hand under his shirt, greedy in a way I cannot understand. I breathe him like air, tugging his shirt up, helping him tug it over his wings in a generally clumsy display.

But my dress falling off me was smooth, Azriel helplessly kissing the white markings along my spine, drinking me like water. I feel the chill of my dress puddling on the floor, the heat of his focus as he walks around to my frontside.

His eyes are anything but appraising as he looks me over. He looks rather... mesmerized if I care to be so assured. "Gods damn me," he swears under his breath.

"Watch it," I smirk at how he speaks, so quick to say the name of higher powers in vain, so unconcerned with damnation as he watches me.

"Might you get on the bed for me, Gwyneth?" He asks, eyes flicking to my gaze. So polite. I can tell he's trying very hard to be gentle. I find myself grateful for it in this moment as I feel so naked before him, a little shaky in my stance. "Please."

I blush, lowering myself backward onto the bed, watching his eyes pan over me hungrily. I squirm against the sheets as his shadows slide across me, my light lurching for him. "Come here?"

"Yeah," he says almost instantaneously, voice gruff. I wrap my thighs around his waist as he crawls over me, pressing his mouth into my breast, eyes on mine.

My head tilts back, his name slipping from my lips as his tongue drags across my nipple slowly. My thighs tighten around him, hips bowing off the bed.

"Yeah?" He echoes gently, perhaps with a hint of smugness. I have no mind for it.

"Yeah," I whimper back, surprised by how badly I need him. It's unreal, the pull of him. The nerves drifting off into pure guttural want. It's quick, like diving into the river, immediately soaking from head to toe. But Azriel makes time slow, looking like he'd love nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with my tits in his mouth.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he mutters again and again, thighs braced against the bed, still too covered for my liking.

I drag my nails over his muscled back, careful to avoid his wings. I quiet my curiosity about them for the moment, swearing I'd be back to explore them with my teeth and tongue.