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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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I Want To Brainwash You Into Loving Me Forever

I'm so in love that I might stop breathing

Summary: The newly crowned High Lord of Autumn receives a familiar visitor- one he's sworn to punish, should they ever be caught trespassing again.

Note: Happy holidays! This is a gift for the incredibly lovely @iftheshoef1tz. She has written the absolute MASTERPIECE that is Our Bodies, Possessed By Light. I could, in my wildest dreams, only ever put together something even half that gorgeous. If you've never read it, there is no time like now to start.

She is also the person who sent me this prompt for Azris, a pairing I never thought I'd write. The prompt was this piece of dialogue, "Oh, darling, if only I could love you." When I first wrote it, there was no smut, only feelings.

I hope I made you proud

Read on AO3

“Everybody out!”

Eris Vanserra didn’t move as his court turned their backs to him, filing out of the open throne room until only one male remained. Eris, sprawled over his throne, one leg dangling over the arm as he examined the silver rings on his fingers, pretended his heart wasn’t leaping in his throat.

“Close the door,” he added to the sentries, curious as to what their High Lord meant to do with the Shadowsinger from Night Court. Eris himself wished he knew. Azriel was technically banished from his woods, and smart enough to keep himself from being noticed if he wanted.

And there he stood, arms crossed over his powerful chest, wings tucked tight behind him. Hazel eyes bore into Eris’s face with open accusation.

“And see yourself out when you’re done,” Eris called. He would have no witness to whatever was waiting for him. A fight if he had to guess—one he didn’t want his court to hear word for word. Eris watched those golden doors slam shut, listening for the fading steps down the wood halls of the Forest House.

And then they were alone. Eris couldn’t avoid looking at the male at the very end of the room, veiled in shadow from the dying light pouring through the windows–not counting his own, swirling around him like a hazy fog.

“I warned you,” Eris said, forcing a lazy grin on his face. It was for your protection, he wanted to add, though he didn’t dare say it. After all, he’d succeeded, hadn’t he? Beron was dead and he was High Lord. He wore the crown of burnished leaves against his brow, reminding him of everything he’d gained.

And everything he could not have.

Azriel remained silent, his gaze piercing a hole in his still wounded chest. A hundred stolen moments over the course of a decade flooded like a torrent through Eris’s mind. He’d made no promises and when the time came, had been quick to sever all ties between them.

Some things were more difficult to break.

“The punishment for walking the Autumn woods is death, you know.” He wanted to provoke a reaction so badly he would have said anything. Azriel’s silence was a blade to his heart, an ash arrow in his throat. Riling Azriel up had always been the easiest way to force the male to talk to him, even if it was punctuated with Azriels hand around his throat, and Eris’s blood between his teeth.

Azriel yielded one step. “Shall I get on my knees, lord?” he mocked. Hurt and anger flashed through Eris in equal, burning measure. He swung his leg over the arm of the throne, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“What is it that you want, Azriel?”

Eris, of course, has heard rumors of how Azriel has been spending his time. Lucien, irritated and jealous, had made mention of his own mate and the male he believed haunted her steps. The thought of Azriel with anyone else filled Eris with misery more often than he was willing to admit. Of course Azriel would move on—would forget him entirely.

Just as everyone always had. Eris expected Azriel to rub it in his face, to slap a cold grin on his face as he detailed for Eris just how little their time together meant. All of Eris’s worst fears seemed to manifest when Azriel’s wings flared. One scarred hand, illuminated in the blue of his siphon, reached for the blade at his back. Not truth teller, still strapped to his powerful thigh, but his Illyrian sword. Azriel pulled the entire thing smoothly from between his shoulders, not drawing the steel. Eris tensed.

Azriel threw it at his feet, the weapon sliding over the smooth floor to rest at the very bottom of the steps of the dais Eris rested atop of.

“High Lord,” Azriel murmured, sweeping into a bow that saw one of his muscular knees touch the floor. Deference.

Respect.

Love.

Eris clenched his fists to keep himself from rising to his feet. The sight of the male he loved bowing before him—swearing his fealty—was too much. Eris had no road map for this sort of unguarded, if not careful affection. How long had Azriel practiced this moment? Run it over in his head, imagining every possible scenario. Every outcome?

Surely he must have known what was coming.

Azriel pressed his palm to the floor, a lock of his inky black hair falling into near-gold hazel eyes. Eris was certain he’d never seen anything more magnificent in his life and yet he forced himself to pretend he was unaffected.

“Is this a confession?”

His words dripped with condescension. He could feel Azriel’s temper rise, creating static in the air between them. Eris wished he could make things easy, that he could just admit the truth.

I’m afraid.

I love you.

“You know how I feel,” Azriel said, his dark voice rich with promise. Eris could not suppress the shiver that raced up his spine. His body went taut, pulled by that golden thread he had spent so many years denying existed. He rose to his feet, each step down to the floor seemingly endless. He went to Azriel, still on his knees, well aware a better male would have kissed his mate.

Eris crouched, his heart racing as the scent of Azriel rolled over him. It had been so long since he’d scented night chilled mist and cedar, since he’d touched the rough stubble of Azriels jaw. He couldn’t help but hook his finger under Azriel’s chin, listening to their hearts sync.

“Oh darling, if only I could love you.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed, his nostrils flaring. One scarred hand shot out, grasping Eris by his hair. Azriel pulled tightly, drawing him closer, until their noses brushed.

“You’re still a coward,” Azriel accused, his breath fanning over Eris’s face.

“You should love someone else,” Eris replied, unable to keep his own insecurities from his voice. It had always been that way. That mask was glued to his face until Azriel stepped into the room.

As it stood, it lay shattered to pieces between their bodies. Azriel twisted his fist into Eris’s hair until Eris reached for one of the crisscrossing straps over Azriel’s armor and yanked him closer.

It was a bruising kiss. Frantic and hungry and filled with all the things neither of them could make themselves say.

I’m sorry.

I missed you.

Stay with me.

Azriels grip didn’t loosen, as if he knew the minute he let Eris go the spell might shatter and Eris would send him away again. Another five years in purgatory, looking for glimpses of the other when their two courts met while pretending they didn’t care at all. Eris too often woke at night tangled in his bedsheets, hands desperately seeking the silken touch of Azriel’s wings. Wishing for rough, calloused hands sliding down his naked chest.

“I’m not leaving,” Azriel growled, his teeth nipping roughly against Eris’s bottom lip. “I don’t give a fuck about your laws.”

“What about—” Azriel’s tongue silenced him, delving into his mouth with such heat that Eris found he didn’t particularly care what Rhysand thought anymore. Eris felt frantic as Azriel’s words washed over him.

I’m not leaving.

Eris didn’t know what to do, what to say. He could only kiss his mate and hope Azriel understood. That the things that had always kept them together explained away his cruelty. Beron would have ripped Azriel’s wings from his back, and would have pulled the magnificent male apart like an obnoxious moth while Eris had been forced to watch.

And in the aftermath of what he’d done to secure his crown, his throne, he’d felt unworthy of something as rare as a mate. Azriel had seemed content and Eris had almost convinced himself they were better off apart. That being together would only ruin them both.

But there, one arm around Azriel’s neck, his hand dragging through the shtick strands of his hair, Eris felt stupid.

“There you are,” Azriel breathed, pulling away with bruised lips to look at Eris. Eris gripped Azriel’s face, touching foreheads until they shared a breath.

“If you were smart, you’d reject this bond,” Eris made himself say, each word gravel in his mouth.

Azriel didn’t smile. “I am well aware of your opinion regarding my intelligence.”

Eris swallowed hard, gripping Azriel for dear life. His thumbs swept over bronzed cheeks, eyes searching his mates. “Stay with me.”

For a moment, there was only the sound of their combined hearts. Azriel had already said he was staying, and yet Eris needed to hear it again. On his knees, no longer the High Lord but just a male in love, he needed to hear Azriel say it again.

And again.

Every day until he drew his very last breath.

“You first,” Azriel ordered roughly, his breath catching in his throat. Eris knew what he wanted to hear. The very words Eris had refused to ever say out loud, had denied even to himself save in the darkest parts of his mind no one could reach.

“I love you.”

Azriel’s eyes rolled upwards, lashes fluttering ever so slightly. Eris brought his face closer, pressing a kiss to each cheek with all the softness he could muster. It wasn’t much—he’d never be a gentle, soft sort of male.

He didn’t think Azriel wanted that.

“I’m not leaving you. Ever,” Azriel added with a ringing finality. Eris’s mind raced with possibilities. Where Azriel would fit, what role he might occupy. It was terrifying to lay himself bare before so many, to announce to the world this male was his only weakness in the world.

And not having him was infinitely worse.

Eris forced himself to take a breath. He was High Lord. Autumn would bend to his will or they would join the rot in the woods.

“Good.”

He rose to his feet, bringing Azriel with him with a tightly clasped hand. There was no hesitation, no moment of uncertainty. Just them, connected by the golden thread of fate.

And for the first time in Eris’s life, he felt like he could breathe again.

Opening the doors to their tightly held sanctuary was another matter entirely. Eris’s fingers trembled on the cool metal, though he wrenched them open with cool abandon. Beside him, Azriel resituated his blade with clear eyes, his wings tucked tight against his back.

He knew, and it filled Eris with a strange sense of shame. He was supposed to protect his mate—and he couldn’t do that if he was afraid. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Azriel his fears, to lay them at his feet and see what Azriel made of them.

What Azriel truly made of him.

But the doors were opened, and though Eris had ordered everyone out, a surge of courtiers stepped from the shadows, eyes wide when they saw the living Shadowsinger. Eris knew they’d been hoping to see blood, or perhaps wings peeled from Azriel’s back. Some gruesome display to prove the superiority of their High Lord.

Eris’s temper flared. “I don’t recall asking for an audience,” he said, his voice betraying his fury. Beside him, Azriel had gone wholly still, waiting for a command like a well-trained dog.

“Lord,” heads bowed in deference as unease spread through the hall like a disease. Someone was going to die—they hoped it would be the interloper, but if his courtiers wanted to mop up blood, theirs was just as easy to spill. “Our laws—”

“Are you offering me advice?” Eris asked, his voice little more than a whisper. “Or telling me how my late father would have handled such matters?”

Azriel recognized the cruel cut of Eris’s words. Eris felt Azriel’s fingers brush along the back of his hand, unseen by those crowding them. It was a quiet question—let me do this for you.

Eris slid his pinky against Azriel's, silent permission for the silent offer.

“If we do not teach these lesser bastards their place—” Azriel’s sword was in the male's neck before he managed to finish the offense. The spilling blood didn’t stop Eris from stepping forward, staining his books to lean in close. “What was that?” Eris asked, drinking in the dying light from the choking male. Azriel had pinned him by the throat like a moth to a corkboard, his body sagging against the dark, wooden wall.

“Lesser bastards, was it?” Eris repeated, cocking his head as though he expected a response. Only the gurgling rattle of death punctuated the silence. Azriel pulled back his blade, using the fine fabric of a dying man to wipe it before he resheathed.

Eris turned, sweeping his gaze over those who remained. Their fear was intoxicating, mingling with his own. This, he decided, was his declaration. He would need no other pretty, poetic words or otherwise written treatises on Azriel’s presence in his court.

Eris gave the order and Azriel would enforce it with brutal, unfeeling efficiency. Eris felt the spooling tension unknot from his chest and took a step. And then another.

“I believe I told you to leave.”

There were no further protests. Bodies scattered down the hall, vanishing behind closed doors and winding corridors to spread the news. Eris waited until they were alone, left only with one cooling corpse, to resume his attention.

“This way,” he murmured, nodding for Azriel to follow. Never had he ever dared to bring Azriel to his home, let alone to his chambers. They’d met more often in Velaris, hidden in the inky darkness, though there had been days in an overrun Spring Court forest and a weekend half hidden on a Summer Court barge.

Opening his own doors was far more intimate. A welcoming of sorts, to the place Azriel might choose to live at least most of the time. Eris had no illusion that Azriel would abandon his friends and the people he called brothers.

He did believe Azriel when he’d gotten on his knees and sworn his fealty, that he meant to promise his loyalty to Eris above all else. He could share, he told himself rationally. He could let Azriel move through the world on his own terms, so long as it was Eris he came home to.

“Come here,” Azriel breathed, gripping Eris by the neck. Eris had only just locked the door when he was pushed against it. Azriel ground himself against Eris, letting Eris feel the heady proof of Azriel’s need. “You know I—”

Eris knew exactly what Azriel was going to say. That he loved when Eris was brutal, when he was cold. When only Azriel was allowed to see the warmth that lay beneath the ice. They were the exact same in that regard, impenetrable until they were around each other.

Eris opened himself, the kiss between them rough and inelegant. Azriel always had preferred passion to function which, at first, had frustrated Eris to no end. He’d grown to appreciate Azriel’s disregard for performance, how he gave himself over to base need without an ounce of insecurity. No barriers, no pretense.

Only them.

Eris pushed Azriel back, still open-mouthed kissing. He needed to get his mate to the bed and away from the walls. He was warded well enough, and knew anyone with their ears to the door would hear the frantic sounds of pulling buckles and laces. They’d hear the soft moan of pleasure from Azriel when Eris’s hand slipped between his legs, cupping the hard, thick length of him.

It was one thing to know Azriel served him.

It was another to know just how well.

Eris managed to get the too-tight Illryian leather from Azriel first, well aware his mate had never been one for all the buttons on Eris’s jacket. The moment Eris’s flame-warmed hands slid down the carved muscle of Azriel’s skin there was the distinct sound of fine fabric ripping.

“You’re a brute,” Eris groaned, nipping his teeth along Azriel’s stubbled neck.

“Shut up,” Azriel replied, clearly delighted with the sight of Eris’s shredded, silken clothes fluttering to the floor. Chest to bare chest, Eris finally managed to shove Azriel back on a large bed draped in gold and orange. Azriel fell backward with a soft breath, reaching for Eris before Eris could reach for his laces and free him entirely. It had been too long and Eris found himself all but writhing as he came astride his mate, the pair scrambling up the bed desperately for hungry, frantic kisses.

Azriel’s fingers tangled in Eris’s hair, pulling hard enough that Eris moaned in Azriel’s mouth. Azriel merely swallowed the sound, tongue sliding against Eris’s for taste after taste. It was as if he, too, had been emptied hollow without Eris, that the suffering Eris felt without Azriel was not one-sided.

Azriel’s fingers found Eris’s pants, having so thoroughly distracted him. “I need to taste you,” Azriel groaned, lips gliding down Eris’s arched neck. Eris found himself on his back, legs spread as Azriel trailed his tongue over his collarbone, his chest, his navel. Eris lifted his hips, eyes flashing a warning when his lower half was quickly divested of every stitch of clothing. All Eris had was his ringed fingers and his fear.

“You,” Eris ordered, his voice too breathless to be considered truly authoritative. Still, Azriel nodded only once, a lock of dark hair flopping into his burning eyes. He stood, hands reaching slowly for his waist, and then he, too, was bared for Eris’s hungry gaze.

Eris wanted to crawl. Wanted to lick Azriel’s carved chest, to leave sucking bruises against the deep vee on either side of his hips. Eris wanted to swallow the salted musk of Azriel’s cock until Azriel whimpered, begging for relief.

Azriel was back over him before Eris could make good on his thoughts. There was no space between them, their skin pressed so tight not even the spooling darkness that trailed Azriel could have slipped between.

“Eris,” Azriel breathed, rubbing himself like a cat in heat against Eris’s over warm body. Now it was Eris’s turn to grip Azriel by the neck, to silence him with his lips and tongue and teeth. With his free hand, he reached for their touching, grinding cocks and applied pressure with his fingers.

Azriel’s moan was music. Eris stroked the pair of them again, evenly matched in his broad hand. The combined moisture beading on their cocks only drove Eris upwards, desperate to hear another pleasured sound rip from Azriel’s throat. He needed more of the heady pleasure spooling through the pair of them more than he needed Azriel’s mouth on his cock.

Eris pushed, rolling them over so he straddled Azriel’s waist. Azriel responded with a soft growl, teeth sinking against Eris’s lip until they tasted warm blood.

“Is this what you want?” Eris whispered, holding the pair of them in his hand. Azriel watched with dark eyes, his spine arching off the bed when Eris stroked. Lips parted, exhaling softly as Eris ran his thumb over Azriel’s slit, teasing the sensitive flesh.

“I want to taste you,” Azriel repeated, his voice guttural with its need. He rose up on powerful elbows to punctuate his point and Eris was so tempted to crawl up his body and press his aching cock against Azriel’s wet mouth. Eris stroked again, trying to convince his worthless mind to make a decision.

“You want to supplicate yourself before me?” he taunted,

Azriel’s fingers dug into Eris’s hips, bruising as he yanked Eris closer. “Your games aren’t half as amusing as you imagine.”

“I like you like this,” Eris admitted, cupping Azriel’s jaw. For a moment he could pretend this was a mere act of intimacy and he wasn’t going to beg Azriel to fuck him when this was all over. Just them, holding eyes—taking the time once denied them by force.

And then Azriel was tugging again, urging Eris to use him as he so often had. Eris took himself in his hand, rubbing the messy tip of his cock against the soft skin of Azriel’s lips. It was impossible to tell if it was his come or Azriel’s smeared over his skin, and doubted very much that Azriel cared one way or the other.

Azriel’s mouth opened, tongue sliding forward and Eris pushed himself against the slick, wet slide. He groaned, tugging Azriel’s hair to pull his head forward. Azriel never took his eyes off Eris, content to let Eris take what he needed.

Eris paused when he was halfway down Azriel’s throat, the blunt head of his cock pressed against muscle. Azriel could take more, and yet Eris was taken aback by the sheer loveliness of the male beneath him. Wings played darkly, mouth open, hands ghosting Eris’s hips. Eris stroked Azriel’s cheek again, forcing himself to say the words he’d longed denied.

“I love you.”

Azriel fully wrapped his lips around the aching hardness of Eris’s cock, taking more of him with ease. A puff of air pushed itself from Eris’s chest, forced by the sheer, incandescent pleasure of being swallowed by his mate. Eris clung to Azriel’s hair, setting a slow pace in an effort to prolong his pleasure.

“Fuck,” Eris breathed, unable to call up more sophisticated language. He could see the bright spark of amusement in Azriel’s eyes—he always had enjoyed bringing Eris low. Sometimes thought Eris was no better than the accusations he’d leveled at Azriel. If his mate was a brute, well, perhaps he was, too.

Eris certainly wanted no part of a hierarchy in which he was considered above Azriel. They were the same, only made of different rock that, when polished, had a wholly different shine. The edges were still sharp, could still be wielded like a blade.

Eris pushed deeper, moaning when he heard Azriel gag around him. The vibrations made his erection pulsate, drawing Eris’s release closer.

“Up,” Eris said, pulling himself with an immense effort from Azriel’s mouth. “I need…”

Azriel’s look was pure exasperation. But he knew what Eris needed. Knew, better than anyone what it was that Eris wanted. He’d known when he walked into the throne room and he knew right then as he pushed Eris from his body, letting the male fall to his side so he could rise upwards.

“On the floor, or will the bed suffice?” Azriel asked dryly. Eris, with a twitch, leaking cock, gestured at the floor. It required the two of them to stand, brutally naked males with heaving chests, eyeing the other mere inches apart. Eris slid his hand down Azriel’s toned midsection, dragging fingers through the bead of precum for a taste.

“We could be fucking right now,” Azriel growled, grabbing Eris by the hair for a messy, passionate kiss. Eris gripped Azriel’s jaw, tasting his own salt against the sweetness in Azriel’s mouth. “You’re so dramatic.”

Dramatic or not, Azriel still bent to Eris’s desire. Falling slowly to his knees like every fantasy Eris had ever had, he gripped Eris’s straining cock in his hand.

“My High Lord,” Azriel murmured, his breath fanning over Eris’s skin. He nearly came from the sight, from the aroused reverence in Azriel’s voice. “My Eris.”

“Gods, Azriel, please—”

Azriel put Eris out of his misery, swallowing him smoothly before Eris could ruin the moment any further with his begging. Eris threaded his fingers through Azriels thick, dark hair, pushing himself further into the ringed muscles of Azriel’s wet throat—until he felt Azriel’s nose brush the copper hair of his navel.

Azriel gagged and Eris released, well aware he was not going to last. Threads of saliva came back with Azriel’s mouth, dragging like an iridescent rainbow over Azriel’s lips. Eris’s thighs trembled, his sac tightening at the sight.

“Az, I—”

Azriel didn’t relent, his tongue swirling the head of Eris’s needy cock before he took Eris again, tears blurring his hazel eyes. Release coiled through Eris hotter than he could ever recall, and when he felt Azriel’s hand reach behind him and merely stroke the puckered hole of his ass, Eris jerked, spending himself roughly into Azriel’s throat.

Azriel, as he always did, took all of it without complaint, freeing Eris with a wet pop. Eris had to catch his breath while Azriel wiped his hands and eyes with a scarred hand, amusement blazing over his features.

“Am I allowed to fuck my mate, now?” Azriel asked, rising slowly to his feet. The sight was enough to make Eris a religious male. “Or does he want to fuck me?”

Eris wanted both. He would have both, but right then what he needed was the feel of Azriel’s salt-soaked skin against his own. They collided all over again, with Eris yielding so Azriel could turn him and push his knees against the bed frame. Eris went willingly, arching his back into Azriel’s chest while twisting for another hungry kiss.

“Don’t be gentle,” Eris ordered, controlling until the last. As if Azriel would ever be such a thing. It was worth saying, given how the two had little moments of sentimentality that too often slipped into their lovemaking. There was no need—not anymore. Eris would give up Azriel over his own rotting corpse, and not a moment before.

They had time. As Eris relaxed himself, gripping the bedsheets while his mate lubricated his cock, Eris felt almost giddy at the prospect. A near eternity was penance for the decades apart. The suffering Eris meant to repay in spades, starting with the brutal scars on his mate's hands. He’d work his way forward from there, punishing each mark, every bruise, and the lingering wounds still etched not just in Azriel’s golden skin, but his very soul, if he had to.

There could be nothing else.

His thoughts were chased off by Azriel’s slippery fingers, sinking into him slowly. One, and then two, and then a third all worked themselves inside him, oiling his body while the other hand slid up and down his spine. Eris shuddered, craning his neck for another kiss.

“Was there anyone else?” Azriel asked, eyes finding Eris’s. “Between now and…”

“No,” Eris replied, unashamed. “There was never anyone else. Only you.”

Pumping fingers vanished, replaced by the press of the heavy crown of Azriel’s cock. Eris felt the breath punch from his lungs, his whole body tight at the prospect. It had been so long since he’d let Azriel have this—since he’d wholly yielded himself, and allowed himself to trust.

Trust that Azriel wouldn’t harm him. That he could be beneath another person, that he didn’t always need to cling so tight to his control. It was a hard-fought battle, won by Azriel’s near boundless patience. They’d stop if it was too much, and Azriel would flip over, his eyes silently saying, I can do it, too. You don’t scare me.

But Azriel had always scared Eris, and the depth of feeling between them even more so. Even then, with that inching push, Eris felt the urge to end it all. To lay Azriel out and order him to do exactly as he said. Too much, it’s too much—

And not enough. “Relax,” Azriel whispered, kissing the side of Eris’s jaw. “You’re so good like this. Relax for me.”

And Eris did, sinking into the touch, into the feel of Azriel’s gentle slide into his body even when he’d demanded the male be rough. Pushing against the bed with his palms, Eris claimed a slow, unhurried kiss. Arousal began to stir through him again, shuddering against his already spent cock for a second time. Eris wondered if it was the beginnings of the frenzy or merely his own lust. He was well aware he had the best-looking male for a mate in all of Prythian, after all. Azriel’s face alone was enough to keep anyone hard.

“Az,” Eris breathed, falling into the rarely used nickname. He knew Azriel liked it, like when he was formal—casual. Behind him, he felt Azriel press his forehead against Eris’s shoulder blades, breathing roughly.

“Yes,” Azriel panted, seating himself wholly in Eris’s body. Eris had forgotten the stretch of accommodating Azriel, of how full he felt. Eris squeezed himself around Azriel, kissing up and down Azriel’s arm.

“What did I say about being gentle?” Eris asked. There was no bite to his words.

“Shut the fuck up,” Azriel replied with a huff of laughter. “Shut your fucking mouth, Eris.”

Eris squeezed again, delighted to hear the laugh slip into a soft moan of appreciation. “Why don’t you fucking make me.”

Azriel responded just as Eris hoped, drawing himself out only to push roughly back in. They moaned in time as combined pleasure spooled between them. Azriel’s fingers wound through Eris’s hair, pulling roughly.

“Tell me you missed me,” Azriel demanded, each word punctuated by another vicious thrust of his thick, aching cock. Eris’s eyes rolled upwards into his skull, his own cock erect and pressed against the mattress of the bed. “Tell me you missed me as much as I missed you.”

“More,” Eris panted, certain it must be true.

Azriel’s teeth grazed just beneath his earlobe. “I doubt it.” Eris couldn’t help the whimper of need that escaped him, nor could he stop his own hand from gripping his cock, stroking his skin as Azriel continued to pump in and out of his body. He was mindless, a creature wholly devoted to the male behind him and their combined pleasure. For a moment there was no sound but their combined, synced hearts and the constant meeting of their slick flesh.

A moan slipped from Azriel, unleashed and desperate. He was close and Eris wished he could watch. He twisted, his own hand speeding, to catch the lust-hazed hazel eyes staring back at him. Eris couldn’t help himself. “You’re beautiful,” he said, lips slotting between Azriels. Taste him, his senses called, demanding satisfaction. Eris was going to come all over the side of the bed, all over his hand, his body. He could feel it building just as surely as Azriels’s own release, if Azriel’s trembling legs and rapidly speeding hips were any indication.

“Az,” Eris breathed, the rest of his plea swallowed by Azriel’s greedy lips. Their tongues collided, tasting and teasing and Eris found it was all too much. He groaned, fingers practically bruising his cock beneath their grip as he came—the very moment Azriel pushed his slick cock in deeper, spending himself with a grunt into Eris’s body.

It was a mad scramble for the bed without wholly leaving the other. Eris knew they were making a mess of the sheets and didn’t care, pulling Azriel against his body, head tucked just beneath his chin. Eris hooked a leg around Azriel’s hip, murmuring, “Leave it,” when his mate tried to go to the bathroom for a rag.

It could all wait. Azriel pressed a kiss to his pectoral, fingers sliding up and down Eris’s stomach. For a moment, Eris felt a sliver of panic. They’d never been allowed so much in the space of so little. Eris was used to fear, his eyes tracking for the door where at any minute, Beron Vanserra might burst in and ruin the fragile peace simmering between them.

Another kiss calmed him. “Nothing has to be decided today,” Azriel whispered, steady as always.

Eris forced himself to take a breath. “I love you,” he said instead. That was unchanged. Would never change. He felt a smile spread over Azriel’s lips, pressed now into his shoulder.

“I know you do,” Azriel said, his words soothing Eris’s inflamed soul. “As I love you.”

Eris pressed a kiss into Azriel’s sweat-damp hair. “Mate,” he breathed, drinking in the scent.

Azriel’s fingers tightened around his ribs. “Mate.”

#azris #azriel #eris vanserra #turning my little drabble into a 5k oneshot??#more likely thank you think

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