Holy Mother above. Had the actual words fight or fuck really left her? Gwyn suddenly felt lightheaded. The shadows swirled around her, settling her with bursts of cool air against her cheeks.

Yes. Clear as day, those words had flown out her mouth. Over the hows and the whys. The words breaking through her endless tears. For Thea. For Shelah. Snuck by her contemplation of why she was alive . But, godsdammit, she was. Today. It was time to live again. Enjoy something good. Something all theirs. All hers.

"Which is it, Azriel?" She drew a deep breath as she gazed at the powerful bare-chested and barefooted Illyrian in his splendor, standing before her, all long and lean. Chiseled jaw and full-lipped. And as if a single feather would tap him on his ass.

His throat bobbed. "Gwyn…"

She reached behind, fingers wrapping one at a time around the cool bronze in question. Stay or go? Every emotion flickered across Azriel's handsome, tired face as he stared at her fist as if she held a lethal weapon instead of a doorknob.

With deliberate slowness, he moved for her, pulling the hand away from the door, interlacing their fingers. Breathing became difficult as she took in their united palms. Cauldron, was she really doing this?

Gwyn pushed off the wood, limping backward toward the largest bed she'd ever encountered in her life, tugging him with her. Eyes of burnished gold with specks of jade skimmed over her frame like a caress. Intense, devouring every part of her. So much so that she'd completely forgotten she was actually inside Azriel's room. Swords and daggers acted as artistry. The sole flourishes upon dark navy walls except for one portrait of three teenage Illyrian males playing in snowdrifts in a cozy winter scene complete with a cabin.

The air permeated with something dark and rich. Decadent. His scent, she realized. The instant she turned from the painting and met his passionate stare, she saw he was on board.

"Wait." Azriel steadied her as the backs of her knees hit the edge of the bed. His grip remained on her forearm. He cleared his throat as they straightened. "We need to discuss this, Gwyn."

"Discuss what?" Her pulse hammered as she ran a hand along his muscular bicep, grinning smugly at his shiver. A shiver she caused.

Azriel's eyes drifted shut, his lips parting as her fingertips smoothed over the solid planes of his chest and stomach. "What are we doing?" He opened his eyes and in them was sheer desire. A fierce urge he was valiantly resisting. "We need to talk about this."

"Okay. Then let's talk." Gwyn smirked as her fingernails lightly trailed his tangled black-blue whorls from his neck to his navel. Her eyes dropped below his waistline. To the bulge growing beneath the seam of leather.

"Let's take a minute to set ground rules," he said, his words ending on a grunt as her finger played with the top of his pants.

Her mischievous smile slipped as she reflected on his words. Words mirroring what the priestess she solicited for counsel delivered on navigating future intimacy. " Take three minutes to establish boundaries with a partner. Rules. Wants. Needs." Gods, Gwyn didn't know if she could wait three more minutes. Yet Azriel had dutifully pulled back on the reins, giving her a chance to leap off.

Cauldon, she had asked him to fuck her. Not make love. Not have sex. Fuck, as in… But, was she truly ready for...everything?

Gwyn gulped, her hand moving back up to his chest, coming to rest above his pounding heart. He put his hand over hers, his thumb stroking the side in soothing sweeps.

Three minutes.

She exhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts and courage. And she praised the gods Azriel had paused. "I'm not ready for intercourse."

He nodded. "What are you ready for?"

"I want you to touch me."

"Where?"

"Can we play it by ear?"

He snorted in amusement. "Of course. Clothes?" He arched an eyebrow, glancing to the nightgown that now felt entirely too short, and much too thin over her bare chest. And to Gwyn's utter dismay, said I ? Pegasi on the front with a silhouette of a winged horse. How tempting. She was going to kill the stupid House.

She stretched the hem of the long shirt. "I'd like to keep my underwear on," Gwyn admitted in a cringe, thinking of how silly that sounded. Taking her chin, his fingers lifted her face as he gently kissed the tip of her nose.

"I'll keep mine on too, then."

"I'd like to undress myself."

"Gwyn, if we do this—if we are doing this—I need you to promise me something." His eyes drew her attention as she replied with a bob of her head. "I need you to talk to me. Tell me if you want to stop. Keep going. If you like something. Don't like something. Can you promise me, Priestess?"

"Yes," she answered at once, keeping those words close to her heart. "I just want to be with you, Azriel."

His breath shuddered out, his enormous wings quivering behind him as he gathered her close and lowered his mouth to hers. Sweet and lazy. A thorough perusal of her lips. Over and over. Until there was nobody else but him and her. Until the tension eased from her and she leaned into him, her arms sliding around his shoulders. Azriel's hand strayed down the fabric of her shirt, his fingertips caressing the exposed skin of her upper thigh.

"As I'm sure you've learned from your books , communication is important," Azriel whispered against her mouth, nudging her head back. His lips coasted to her jawline. "So very important, Berdara. And I'm curious."

Her breath hitched as his fingers tugged the bottom of her shirt in a silent challenge.

"Yeah? What do you want to know, Az," Gwyn got out before she inhaled sharply at the scrape of his teeth on her earlobe, nibbling as he made his move to kiss that spot below her ear. She both cursed and rejoiced the day he discovered it.

"Everything, Gwyn. What turns you on. What you look like when you come unraveled. But, right now…" His tongue traced the shell of her ear and she pressed her lips together to halt the loud moan from escaping. "I'm wondering if I can follow those delightful freckles with my tongue lower than your collar." She could not bite back the moan any longer, tossing her head back as Azriel's kisses traveled down her exposed throat. "I wonder if that rosy blush on your cheeks spreads all the way between those glorious breasts of yours."

She cackled. "Glorious? You haven't even seen them yet."

He grinned against her collar, nipping the crook of her neck. "No, I haven't. But from what I've seen so far when you're wearing those tight-ass training leathers, you've blown away every expectation. Glorious is the starting point."

She smirked, taking a step back. His words, his laud, emboldened her. Gwyn reached for the end of her shirt. She stopped, glancing down at his leather pants and back up, arching a questioning eyebrow.

Azriel's hands accepted the challenge, working at his laces and stays as she lifted the nightshirt over her head, tossing it to the side, crossing an arm across her chest.

It struck her then. She was standing fully exposed in front of a male. Practically naked wearing nothing besides a pair of unattractive white underwear. Azriel only in a pair of tight black shorts, leaving nothing to the imagination. There was no hiding the way she affected him, his erection stretching the fabric. Her mouth went dry. Good Gods. The only word that kept repeating as she gawked? Wingspan. The day Nesta and Emerie had defined the concept after a few glasses of wine was one she regretted.

"My eyes are up here, Berdara," Azriel teased. Her cheeks scorched with the heat of the midday sun, her breathing ragged. To her comfort, he blushed and breathed just as deeply.

When her knees touched the mattress again, Gwyn plopped down and scooted back until she hit the pillows with her head. A sea of silky black sheets swallowed her up, small and vulnerable.

Azriel remained at the foot of his bed, waiting for an invitation.

She patted the space beside her, keeping the arm over her chest as he slowly prowled over the bed until he stretched out on his side.

He bent forward, sweeping his lips on her bare shoulder before kissing the back of the hand covering her chest from view. He considered her body as one might examine a piece of art in a museum. Unadulterated awe and appreciation in his gaze.

He leaned in, his lips on hers, the kisses delicate and luscious. Coaxing and allaying any lingering doubt. Each careful stroke holding a portion of her heart.

"Beautiful," he murmured, gently lifting her hand, kissing each knuckle until her arm fell to her side. "So goddsdamn beautiful." His eyes flashed. "Remember what I said about communication?" She nodded, and he raised a brow. "Words, Gwyneth. I need to hear your words."

She rolled her eyes, and his lips twitched. "Funny coming from you, mister silent and sullen." Azriel nipped at her skin and she tossed her head back in a laugh and kept nipping playfully until she responded. " Yes , I remember."

"Do you trust me?"

With everything in her. With her life. "Yes."

"Good. Now, I wonder," he opened, dragging his knuckles up her arm. Across her collarbone, until she quivered. "Do you touch yourself?" Her eyes went wide and his lips twitched. "I'm curious. Do you touch yourself…" He leaned forward, putting his mouth to her ear. "And think of me?"

She swallowed hard, unable to answer.

"Do you touch yourself, Berdara?"

"Is this an interr—" she choked as his palm flattened just above the swells of her chest. "Interrogation?"

Azriel chuckled darkly against her skin. "It's my job to get answers. And I'm dying to know. Because I'm not afraid to tell you that it's only been you on my mind, for months and months. Only your beautiful face when I've come. "

Her eyes shut and her back arched at the mental picture created. Azriel naked in his bed, stroking himself with her name on his lips. She pressed her thighs together as desire pooled in her core.

"Yes," she replied, not recognizing her own voice.

"Yes, what, Berdara?"

"Yes." She opened her eyes, matching his fervent stare through her lashes. "I touch myself... and think of you."

Azriel's groan rumbled against her arm as he kissed her jawline, nuzzling softly. "Show me."

"That's not a question." Her chuckle ended in a pant as his palm on her chest moved lower until it settled right between her breasts. There was no doubt he could feel how hard her heart was trouncing against her ribs. "And I'm not one to give in to demands, Shadowsinger. You know better than that."

"I'm not demanding , Berdara. I'm begging . Will you show me how you touch yourself? Please?"

Well, since he asked so nicely… Gods, could she really do this? Be so vulnerable?

'Safe. Protected. Loved. He will always catch you.'

Gwyn kept her eyes on him as she glided a jittery hand over her breast, down until her fingers smoothed the stitching of her cotton bottoms.

He asked against her lips, "And? What next?"

Her hand slid underneath the fabric and toward the part now throbbing from his words. Aching for him. A moan left Gwyn at the first stroke of her fingers onto the tense bundle of nerves, her back bowing. As her eyes fluttered closed. Azriel took the opportunity to lick up the side of her neck.

Her fingertips dragged up through her wetness and back to her pulsing clit. Her lips parted on a gasp as she rubbed herself in slow, small circles until her hips followed the movement.

"Gods, Gwyn," Azriel moaned.

She peeked to find him following every motion of her hand, the pulling and tugging under the white fabric.

"What about your breasts, Gwyneth? What do you do with them?"

Gwyn slowed her hand, considering. "Not much," she admitted sheepishly. "I just do this I guess." She took her other hand, smacking over her breast, and squeezed.

His lips twitched. "Does that honestly do it for you?"

She snickered. "I don't know. Everything I've learned about sex has been from filthy books. And most of them have the females play with themselves that way but… Maybe I'm just not sensitive there?" Heat burned her cheeks. "Does it look like I know what I'm doing?"

"Actually…" Azriel shifted so his stomach pressed into the bed. Her brows drew together and then shot up. Heady tension warmed her body as he deliberately shifted his hips. Undulating and grinding into the mattress. His groan turned the tips of her ears pink. "From what I'm seeing, you're doing it all quite perfectly."

Her lips parted on a sharp inhale as she rubbed herself harder and faster as she watched Azriel watching her, rolling in time to her hand. She trembled. Her core went molten, soaking through the minimal fabric covering her.

"Show me," Gwyn panted out. "Show me what to do."

Azriel propped up on an elbow and leaned over. "You sure?"

"Yes," she squeaked, her fingers pressing down on the throbbing point between her thighs.

"Can I use my hands?" She nodded vigorously. "My mouth?" She nodded so hard her head almost broke off. He hummed his approval, his soft black hair feathering over her chest as he moved closer. "Keep rubbing yourself."

The shadowsinger swore as he cupped her breast. "These are more than glorious, Gwyneth," he crooned. A finger circled, spiraling until he arrived at the sensitive peak. His thumb flicked over her nipple, hardening under his expertise into an aching point. "And these are as pretty and pink as in my wildest dreams."

She almost laughed. Could nipples be pretty?

"And more importantly, I was right that I could follow some freckles with my tongue. Though right now…" He squeezed and rolled the tip of her breast between two fingers and her ass lifted clear off the bed. "I think my tongue needs to attend to something else." He lowered his mouth, and she was lost. Each tug of his teeth and lave and flick of his expert tongue shot straight to her core.

"Azriel," she whined, gliding her thumb against her swollen clit. Her eyes slammed shut. "Gods!"

As he drew pleasure from her she'd never experienced before, he drew out her bravery. Gwyn slipped a finger down to her drenched entrance.

Her back arced as she pushed a finger inside herself for the first time. Azriel's moan rumbled through her breast as he teased and sucked. Oh, gods, did he know what she just did? She carefully slid her finger out and then back in. Out and in. Over and over, her hips rolling, hunting the delicious building pressure.

"Are you riding your hand, Gwyneth?"

"Trying to," she laughed. "I've never actually fingered myself before..." Stupid. She sounded so stupidly inexperienced. Why did she even say—

He rose to claim her mouth, and Gwyn opened to him forthwith, her tongue stroking his as his thumb and forefinger continued to lightly pinch and roll.

And with her eyes sealed, there was only passion. The bed creaking as they moved. The playful nips of his teeth. The savor of dark liquor on his tongue. The tantalizing scent of arousal going straight to her head. The ridges of his scarred palms all over her. His smooth hair between her fingers as she held him to her, pleading for more.

Her brain couldn't concentrate on what she was doing. Chasing. Seeking. Close, so close, but every time her hand slid away from…

"Put your palm over your clit and add another finger." Gwyn did as directed. "Now, press your palm down as you thrust."

"Oh." Instantly, it felt extraordinary. Sharper. Fuller. Wetter. And every stroke against her sensitive bundle… "Oh... Gods." She angled her head back against the pillow as she unabashedly writhed against her own hand.

"Good girl," Azriel praised, his voice guttural as he urged her to keep going, moving his face over to her left breast as he worked himself against the bed. He lifted his mouth from her long enough to say, "Now curl your fingers inside, like you 're beckoning someone near."

Odd, but she did as told. He lowered his head again, tenderly biting on the turgid peak at the same time she shifted her palm hard...and then inside she…

Gwyn cried out, perhaps saying his name, noting in the back of her mind how the embarrassing sound was more akin to a yowling alley cat than anything remotely sexy. But she couldn't contain the piercing yelps or whimpers. No concentrating beyond the pleasure emanating from her center, shaking every inch of her body. No feelings beyond the hot rush pulsing around her fingers.

She panted through release, trembling as Azriel shifted beside her faster and rougher until he growled, his body shuddering as he groaned against her chest, the roll of his hips slowing until they too stilled, the only sound their heavy, stuttered breathing and pounding hearts.

Nothing. Nothing could equal seeing Gwyn when she let go. Yet even with her closed eyes, Az hadn't averted his gaze. Not for a damn second. No. He paid attention to how her body surged like the tide. How she chased after what she wanted. The parting of her lips and the elegant blush that flowed over her milky skin as she climaxed. He would take those images happily to his grave.

He peered up, meeting a slice of teal peeking through heavy lashes and a sweet, sated smile gracing her rosy lips. His cheek was using Gwyn's soft breast as a pillow, her heart pounding in his ear. He made to move higher to kiss her but felt the wet spot on the front of his shorts.

Gwyn placed a still shaky palm against his cheek. He turned his face, putting a kiss in the center. Tears swam in her turquoise gaze. He scooted up, kissing her sweetly on the lips. His eyes searched hers, his throat working around a lump.

"Gwyn, I…" A quiet hum reverberated in his chest.

'Say it, Shadowsinger,' his shadows chorused.

Azriel shook his head, his dark shadows taking hold, dousing the light. Smothering the hum. Setting a peck on her glowy cheek, his other hand sweeping back the strands of hair plastered to her forehead.

With one last kiss on her cheek, he made his way to his bathing chamber to take care of himself.

Standing by the sink in new shorts, drying his hands, Gwyn appeared behind him in the mirror, legs crossed, leaning against the doorjamb. Unfortunately, she covered her delectable body in her adorable pegasus shirt. All tousled mane and long legs, his shadows whispering around her like smoke—and he wanted no one else to witness her that undone. Or twirling the dagger he kept under his pillow in her hand, eyebrow raised.

"Seems we have the same idea for overnight protection, Shadowsinger. I do the same thing," she admitted. "Still might be good to move the next time we do things."

He grunted, tossing the towel in the hamper. As he shifted towards her, he noticed her furrow. His stomach sank.

"Gwyn, is something wrong?"

She tucked a few copper strands behind an ear. "Um...well...what we did was...amazing and wonderful but…" Her eyes wandered from her hand to her shuffling feet. "What about you?"

Azriel leaned back against the vanity, watching her fidget with the blade. "Come here," he said, jerking his chin. She silently stepped forward until she stood in front of him. He cupped her face, caressing her cheek. "I will never expect you to do anything to me, Gwyn. But." Hell, he'd be happily blessed to simply worship those breasts for hours on end. Though after being that close to her scent, he was dying to taste her. He kissed her other cheek, pulling back to drown in those pretty eyes of hers. "You did."

Her head titled. "Oh?" She glanced down at his changed shorts, and then over her shoulder to the hamper. "Oh." Her eyes grew wide in realization. "OH!"

"Yes, that about sums it up, Priestess."

"Was it...good for you?"

A peck on her cheek. "I haven't done that since I was a teenager." One to soften the lines of her forehead. "But you're that irresistible." He placed a reverent kiss on her mouth. "And amazing." Another. "And beautiful."

'Perfect. Our Priestess is perfect, Shadowsinger.'

The words rushed out before his darkest shadows could seize them. Words he'd never delivered to any other female before her. "Will you stay the night?" Fuck. He'd never invited a female to spend the night. Ever. Why the hell had he asked that? She angled her head. "We don't have to do anything else," he promised her, powerless to keep the revelation of his fear. "I just...I need to make sure you're safe tonight."

Feel her spirit. Hear her heart thumping. Remember she was still alive.

Gwyn lifted on her toes slightly, brushing her lips to his cheekbone. "Yes, I'll stay."

Shoving off the vanity, she squeaked as he hoisted her up in his arms and brought her over to the bed.

"I can walk, you know," Gwyn giggled as Az crushed her against him. Yes, she could, but he didn't want her to. He wanted her as close as possible.

"Rest. Healer's orders."

The side of his lips curled up in a soft smile at her narrowed eyes and crossed arms. She bounced lightly as she plunked on the bed. With a smirk, she crammed the dagger back under the pillow before moving to the center. Azriel muttered as he lifted the covers before sliding in, "Weapons check before sex. Got it. Now, scoot over, Berdara."

With a huff, she rumbled she shouldn't have to move in such an enormous bed and scooted to the left. When he bound his arms around her, Gwyn squealed. She flipped around to face him, folding her hand in his between them. The tiny charm of her bracelet slid across his wrist.

"Goodnight, Shadowsinger," Gwyn said with a gentle smile.

"Goodnight, Priestess."

He watched Gwyn as her eyes fluttered shut. The grasp on his hand slackened. As her breathing slowed into even puffs of breath, stirring her fallen strands of red. A goddess in tranquil repose. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

I came up with this concept of self-pleasuring together as their first step to intimacy after a few first drafts and careful consideration. While I know that there are plenty of people who might be embarrassed to do this with/in front of a partner, in this story, it's the only good intimacy Gwyn has experienced. And Azriel, being the brilliant strategist, figures this out and uses that to make this experience good as well. And to me? Dialogue, shared laughter, awkwardness, and sexual experiences go hand-in-hand. So, I did my best to make this real. I hope you guys enjoy it.