Chapter Summary: Az and Gwyn further explore intimacy with each other. Gwyn meets a realization at the temple that ends in shock.
NSFW ️ Also, I'm so sorry for the delay. This week has been crazy. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
A line from one of her favorite Sellyn Drake novels recited in her head.
"She didn't know it was possible to drown in fire, but she was burning in a sea of passion..."
Gwyn always adored the quote, even though she never quite understood its meaning—until the moment Azriel tugged her into his lap and kissed her. This, Gwyn thought. This was what Gwyn imagined only possible in books. Where the character described being consumed, devoured by their partner. So immersed in each other, nothing existed beyond the now. Beyond the steam and want.
"She didn't know it was possible to drown in fire, but she was burning in a sea of passion…"
And, Mother above, Gwyn would willingly let the passion drown her.
Gwyn hadn't yet faced this version of her shadowsinger in bed. The one he struggled to conceal from her. This was Azriel, not being careful. Wasn't treating Gwyn like frail, breakable glass in his grip.
No. This was a male who needed his female. And was making damn certain she accepted it. And Gwyn was loving every raw and sultry second of it—and she wasn't afraid. Never of Azriel, who still hadn't sung for her but drove away her shadows nonetheless.
Her shadows of dread. Shadows of uncertainty. Shadows of shame.
Gwyn fully reclined into his cradling arm, letting him hold her as his mouth claimed hers feverishly. Her fingers burrowed into his silky hair as he angled her head the way he preferred, deepening the kiss. She opened for him, forcing him close with a hand on the back of his neck. His tongue leisurely flicked over hers, teasing her to play. And she satisfied with her own, tasting him. A startled groan emerged from him when her teeth gently nibbled his lower lip as she pulled back.
Azriel's free hand coasted lower to her waist. She shivered, his mouth capturing her muffled gasp as his thumb swept over her hipbone. Her essentially bare waist, Gwyn realized through the fog of lust.
The same attention must have crossed Azriel's mind. Too soon, he lifted his head, glimpsing at her midriff. To where Gwyn's deep red sweater dress had ridden up past her stomach when he'd towed her into his lap. How her exposed thigh pushed up against the hardness beneath his soft black pants.
"Gwyn," Azriel murmured, throat bobbing, his anxious hazel eyes searching hers. And damn, the fact that he would break to check on her pierced her heart like an arrow.
She grinned. "It's okay." Her answer didn't seem to placate. She tried again. "I'm okay, honestly," Gwyn reassured, her fingers playing with the short ebony strands at his nape.
Shadows floated to his ear, and he nodded. Gwyn rolled her eyes.
"Do you not trust me, or are you getting evidence from your little lie-detecting shadowy minions?"
Az smiled timidly as his amused shadows twirled as he mumbled to them. When they implied a bow and slid under the threshold, it was clear the shadowsinger had dispatched them from the room.
"Sorry. I just need to be positive," the shadowsinger sighed.
Though his next kiss was soft, the hold on her hip was not. Azriel brought his calloused hand up to rest just below her breast. There was no eluding the heat of his palm through the tight-knitted fabric. And yet Gwyn knew Azriel would let go, move away if she requested. But she didn't want him to go anywhere.
"So what happens next in this book scene, Berdara?"
Gwyn's eyebrows shot up. "You want to know what actually happens in the scene?"
He acknowledged with a slight nod. "I'm assuming it all began with a passionate kiss," Azriel said, brushing his lips over hers again, lingering this time. "Checked that box. So what next?"
She closed her eyes, softening into his embrace, as his mouth moved to her cheek. Her jaw. Gwyn inclined to give him better access to her neck, where he expressed more kisses. Nibbling and lightly sucking at her pulse.
"They undressed in front of each other," she exhaled. His thumb passed under the curve of her breast, inducing a moan and him to smile against her throat. She retaliated with a tug on his hair, triumph at his rumbling groan, her heart racing at the noise.
With one more peck, he lifted his head. Those hazel eyes warmed to honeyed tea.
"Are you ready for that, Gwyneth?" He sought, gliding a finger over her lower lip.
Was she ready to be completely naked with him? No one had seen her bare down there since…
She gulped hard and sighed, defeated. "I want to be." Her lower lip quivered as he passed his thumb over it again in a soothing caress. "But I can't. Not yet."
Azriel must have seen the shame on her face. The annoyance and irritation. "It's alright," he said. "It's—"
"No, it's not," Gwyn exclaimed, thinking out loud. His forehead creased, and she could sense her words cooling the hotness they'd created. But she wasn't ready to turn this off. Not now. She wanted him. "Underwear per normal, okay?"
He nodded.
When she sat up, he followed, running his fingertips down her leg.
"Before this goes any further," Az murmured against her mouth. His hand went lower and lower until… Suddenly her slippers were yanked off her feet, landing with a soft thud somewhere across the room. She wiggled her bare toes and huffed in indignation.
"Hey," Gwyn protested and pouted, sticking out her lower lip. "I love those slippers."
"I'm sorry, but those furry abominations had to go," he replied. "There is no way this is going any further with those awful things watching ." He feigned a shiver.
"Are you making me choose between you and those adorable slippers, Shadowsinger? Because it may not be as easy a choice as you may think."
Azriel chuckled darkly, his hand skimming back up to her thigh. Gwyn sucked in a sharp breath. "That so?" He raised a daring black brow, amusement glinting in his gaze.
She narrowed her eyes and stood up, nearly ripping his arms out of the sockets as Gwyn tugged Az's fine, chuckling ass off the couch.
"Now we get somewhat naked," Gwyn declared.
He snorted. "Is that how it's worded in the book? If so, I think you need to change your favorite author."
Scowling, Gwyn hoisted her dress over her head in one fluid motion until she was standing before him in matching lingerie she'd picked up when she lunched with Feyre and Nesta. They'd briefly shopped around a store, as any girl would do after their meal. Searching for girlie things one would normally be excited about. The set had caught her eye in the boutique window the moment Gwyn had noticed it; aqua lacy swirls with shimmering golden threads woven through like afternoon sunlight reflecting on a tranquil sea.
With a toss, her dress joined her supposedly hideous slippers. For a minute, she thought Azriel stopped breathing all together because he didn't move. Not even his eyes, which did not leave her body for a second.
"Gwyn, you are so fucking beautiful." His darkened eyes valiantly tried focusing on her face, but like her, there was a tug to gape down each other's bodies. To his hands, opening and closing at his side. To the very noticeable bulge under the seam of his pants.
Eyes finally finding hers, Azriel never looked away as he stalked forward. Taking her hands, he embraced her and kissed her gently, his lips floating over hers. They were so close she could feel his erection against her, the thin layers of fabric between them leaving nothing to the imagination. And left her head swimming.
"Can I ask you a question?" His breath warmed her damp lips.
"Anything."
"I want you to take my pants off for me."
Gwyn froze, angling her head. He was about to put distance between them when she chortled and pressed her lips to his. "That's not a question, Shadowsinger."
Azriel heaved a laugh, and his cheeks pinked. "Would you take my pants off? But you don't have to if…"
"Yes." After taking a stride back and a breather, she continued, "You take your shirt off, though. I don't want to hurt your wings."
One side of the shadowsinger's lips quirked. "Okay, I will. But just so you know, you wouldn't hurt them. And I'm not opposed to you just tearing the shirt off me either."
She snorted in a giggle. "You are ridiculous."
"Ridiculous is the last word most would use to describe me. But I will be only for you, Gwyn," Azriel said, carrying his shirt up and over until there was nothing but tan skin and swirled ink before her. The only remaining thing was his sleep pants and what lay beneath. A vision that romance writers composed whole books about, and not unlike the male in the book she was currently reading. Only Azriel was a thousand times better than the hero. Because he was hers.
Gwyn's shaking fingers boldly skimmed the waistband of his pants, flirting with the edge, her knuckles brushing against taut, flexing skin. A shudder rolled through his body, his wings included. She smirked at the fact she caused it.
"Are you sure?" She asked before going any further.
"Yes," he gritted out.
"Just wanted to make sure. This consent thing is a two-way street," Gwyn said, smiling as she slowly undid the knot at the drawstring of his pants until they were loose on his hips. He groaned, his head tipping back as she shoved them down his waist. When she hesitated, as her hand got closer to his erection, Az walked back. His eyes never strayed from hers as he stepped out, left only in the tight black undershorts she'd become accustomed to, the fabric straining with the hidden flesh beneath and now…
Her fingers reached for the waistband of the sleep shorts.
"Gwyn," he grunted her name, and desire coiled low at the sound, like a curse and a prayer to the gods all at once. And Gwyn wanted to be Azriel's answer to both. But then Az removed her hands with what appeared to be a considerable effort. "Let's give that a minute, okay?"
Taking her hand, he kissed her knuckles and led her back to the settee. She realized what he was doing as he stepped backward, facing her. He was offering her an out; a space to bring this to an end.
Instead, when Azriel sat, she settled over him as before, cradled in his lap. And there was no hesitation on either part as they both went in for a kiss, meeting in the middle.
With one arm around her shoulders, Gwyn moved his grasp from her waist up to her breast. He cupped her, engulfing her. Her nipples tightened, rubbing delightfully against the mesh, nudging into his large palm.
This part wasn't new. And Gwyn wasn't nervous to touch herself in front of him anymore. Although they'd never been this close before. Never cradled so tight she could feel him throbbing against her.
"You can take my top off," she stammered, seeing Azriel's eyes blaze. A deep sound reverberated from the back of his throat as his fingers lazily slipped the straps off her shoulders. Lower and lower, until he could free her from the gauzy cups. Until it was first his kneading hand and then his hot mouth against supple flesh.
Her own hand began its way lower, under the sole remaining fabric covering her, finding her core soaking. Together, they built her pleasure as she caressed and massaged below and he swirled and nipped above. He bit down as she plunged a finger inside herself, then another, writhing, moaning as his hips ground against her free arm pinned between them.
She was getting close, but the scene from the book came to mind—and this wasn't all it entailed.
"Azriel," she moaned out, her hand holding the fire building. He removed his head from her breast, flicking the pink tip one more time as he met her stare. "Azriel, touch me, please. And before you even ask, I am so sure."
His eyes shuttered, and the shadowsinger's large body tensed and trembled beneath her.
"Show me what you want me to do, Gwyn."
Removing her hand from her panties, she reached for his on her breast. Only Azriel grasped her wrist first. Their gazes locked, Azriel growled and sucked the two fingers that had been inside her sex into his mouth. His tongue slid between them, not leaving a single drop behind. Cauldron take her. It was so fucking sensual—and had definitely not been in the chapter; she noted. Her core went positively molten.
As he dragged back, he licked his lips clean—and yet; he blushed. "Shit. Sorry," he whispered, kissing her knuckles in an apology. "I'm sorry, I should have asked first. I—."
Frantically shaking her head back and forth, Gwyn said, "No. No. I liked it." Her cheeks heated at the admission. But, communication and all. "I loved it, in fact. You did that because you wanted to, and you would do that with a normal girl, right?"
Azriel froze. His eyes thinned and then softened. "You are normal, Gwyn. Perfectly normal. And you're right, I would have done that. But the difference is, I didn't give a shit about those girls and I fucking care about you... and I don't want to screw this up."
Her heart banged in her rib cage. Gwyn knew Az cared about her and she speculated about the depth of his affections and yet... she didn't ask. Not yet. Eyes lined with silver, Gwyn interlaced their fingers and trailed their joined hands down her body, both of them trembling as she slipped them under the band of her underwear.
They moaned in unison as her hand moved with his, as their fingers circled her pulsing clit and spread lower. Harder and faster. Azriel's eyes darted between her face and the lush spectacle of their hands under the useless scrap of lace. As their fingers inched into her entrance, she slid her own away.
"Azriel," she begged, and his focus returned to her, and she nodded. "Please."
His breathing snagged, and Azriel looked as if he were about to say something when he slid a finger inside. Their eyes held as he slowly and tortuously plunged his finger in and out as she caressed her bundle of nerves. Azriel swore under his breath, shuddering as she gyrated against him.
"Are you okay?" he asked, despite her breathy pants of bliss.
"Yes," she gasped. "Oh, yes."
He smirked. "You feel amazing, Gwyneth. Just amazing. Your pus… You're so warm and tight. Perfect."
Her skin warmed at his wicked detail and she whined and rubbed harder, her other hand coming up to massage her breast, tweak her nipple.
"Fu…" Azriel said, before biting down on his lip to stop himself.
"You don't have to hide your swears from me, Az. Please let them out. It's fucking hot." Her sentence ended in a whimper as he thrust harder. And gently, when she was more than ready, he eased in another finger.
With that, she was utterly lost.
Her eyes sealed shut, both her hands landing on her breasts, worshipping them as Azriel would. His laugh was pure seduction, his mouth lowering to hers as his fingers thrust, his thumb circling her swollen clit.
"Holy gods, Az!"
They moved in tandem as Azriel pleased her, his movements hindered by the delicate fabric. Until it was all too much and not nearly enough.
"Fuck, Gwyneth," he grated out against her lips. "I can feel you. Let go."
With those words, the knowledge that he was inside her, loving her, she did.
Gwyn cried out his name, and he whispered hers back. They rode out her pleasure as his fingers slowed and yet remained buried. And when she opened her eyes anew, her shadowsinger was beaming down at her with quiet admiration and joy and yearning.
After several serene moments, Az withdrew his fingers, dragging wetness over her skin as he went. She immediately lamented the loss of him. And wasn't that just shockingly wonderful?
But as her mind pieced back together, Gwyn clearly remembered the scene. Her eyes traveled to the erection threatening to rip the shadowsinger's pants apart. Oh, they were not done.
"Az," she purred, running teasing fingers over his abdomen. He jerked, and she grinned. Gwyn sat up swiftly, straddling him. Leaning in, she kissed him. Stretching back, she whispered, "Your turn, Shadowsinger."
Azriel didn't know what good things he had done in his life to be granted the privilege of satisfying Gwyneth Berdara, but he wished to thank the Mother and whoever else. Because holy motherfucking Cauldron.
The girl was a fire in his hands that smoldered under his touch. A dancing flame he could capture that burned only for him. The thought alone made him harder than he could ever possibly imagined. But the current image of her straddling him topless, cheeks still flushed from the passion he'd inflicted, had a bead of liquid leaking from his tip.
"So, what is the next part?" he grunted in delightful pain from the tug on his earlobe.
"You touching yourself for me, Az." Her eyes darted to his groin, and he groaned. His head smacked the back of the low couch. "So?"
A growl rumbled through his chest as his hand flew to the band of his pants and under. Wrapping his fist around his length, Azriel pumped up and down once.
"I want to see," Gwyn mumbled, her eyes went wide as if she caught herself in a thought made real.
He panted, suspending his movements. "Are you sure, Gwyn? Positive?"
She nodded, gnawing her lip. "I want to see you, Az."
The priestess's big blue-green eyes didn't blink as he yanked down the waistband and freed his erection from its constraints. Az was a little worried at first about Gwyn's lack of a reaction besides just... blatantly staring.
After she blinked out of her trance, and when her gaze found him; she barked a laugh. Now he blinked.
"I'm sorry, Azriel," she leaned forward to lavish a tender kiss. "I was just doing mental gymnastics, trying to figure out how you would fit inside me because I'm not sure it would."
Oh, he was absolutely sure it would. And the prospect of someday making himself at home inside that soft warmth he'd just experienced for the first time almost made him come right then and there.
With one hand on the base of her neck, his thumb soothing her spine, Azriel insisted, "Watch me, Gwyneth."
And she indeed watched as he stroked himself. Staring as her eyes darkened to depthless sea green with every shift of his hand. Every twist of his wrist. Every time his thumb smoothed over the tip, that made his hips buck up and bite his lip.
"You like watching, don't you?"
"Yes," she responded instantly, her hips rolling above his lap.
His grip tightened, and he rubbed faster, the pleasure building at the base of his spine. He would not last much—
"May I touch you, Az?"
"Fuck," he howled out, stopping almost before he came. Because godsdammit, if his Gwyn wanted to touch him, he was going to build a fucking dam to hold back the orgasm. Between panting breath, he pleaded, "Fuck yes, Gwyn. Please, gods, touch me. I want you to fucking touch me."
Gwyn's answering sexy chuckle had his eyes turning into slits. Did she somehow know how close he was and made him stop?
"Then please touch me, Berdara," he ground out.
Gwyn moved her hand closer until a lonely finger dragged over the underside of his dick from root to tip. He swore, his head slumping forward to her bare shoulder. The way her fingers wrapped around his erection one by one was pure, perfect torture. And when she finally gripped him and squeezed, he was in paradise.
She softly sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted as she kissed his neck. "Watching you was a brilliant demonstration, but..." Her melodic laughter made his chest hum. "Help?"
Azriel curled his hand around Gwyn's much smaller one, reassuring her she could hold much harder without hurting him. In fact, he preferred it that way. So Gwyn did, and he helped guide her fist up and down his shaft, over and over. Until she had a rhythm in her firm grasp as Gwyn jerked him off all by herself.
"Gods, Gwyn, you are unbelievable. A fucking goddess," he groaned as his hips punched up into her fist as the pleasure hit him hard. Though Azriel always prided himself on having remarkable endurance, there was no way in hell he was going to last much longer.
Not when her velvety lips drifted over his collar.
Not when his Gwyn was gripping him, working over his throbbing cock to make him come.
Not after Gwyn had let him in.
"I'm close," he growled in warning, not sure what Gwyn wanted to do. Though he was confident she knew what to expect from her smutty books. " Gwyn. "
"I know," she crooned, lifting her head. He found her teal eyes as she stroked him into sweet release. His breath whooshed in and out of him in a rush as he spilled. She clutched him, her fingers remaining curled around his pulsing length.
For a solid, terrifying minute, Azriel weighed what they'd just finished and if Gwyn was going to panic. Fuck, what had he just done? Had he pushed too hard? He'd never forgive himself if... And fuck, he came all over her hand...
But Gwyn merely grinned, leaning in to kiss him. "Thank you for bringing one of my favorite chapters to life."
Azriel snorted, snatching his discarded shirt to wipe her palm covered in him. But he couldn't help but kiss her again and again. "If you have any more scenes you want to explore, please let me know."
She playfully tweaked his nose. "Oh, I have many bookmarked, Shadowsinger."
Cauldron, after tonight? He fucking hoped so.
Gwyn woke up the next morning alone in her new bed in the House.
After she and Azriel had done things and cuddled in his room the night before, he lent her one of his cotton shirts and carried her to her room down the hall. She also did not successfully locate her slippers.
"I swear if you touch them, Az," she'd suggested.
He merely chuckled. "Your threats are doing the opposite of what you believe. You know how I enjoy sparring with you."
"Did your shadows stow them away?"
No answer. Insufferably desirable male.
"I have to leave early tomorrow morning and don't want to wake you," Azriel said, brushing his lips to her forehead as he gently laid her between the fresh teal and white cool sheets. But Gwyn had asked him to stay, if only until she fell asleep. She needed him near after they'd been so close. And he did, with little coaxing. She'd fallen asleep with her head on his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.
As scheduled, he had left by the time Gwyn sat up in bed, stretching her body. Finding herself a trifle sore between her legs, she smirked, remembering the way Azriel had relished in touching her. In bringing her satisfaction.
And godsdammit, Gwyn was proud of herself. Of them. And the wide beaming smile gracing her face during a particularly hard morning training showed it.
"What are you so happy about?" Nesta wheezed, holding her side on the ground from a sneaky strike that would have made the shadowsinger proud. Gwyn helped her friend to her feet, shrugging.
"Just happy."
Nesta smirked. "You slept in your new room last night?"
"Yes, I did. Cozy and warm."
"I'm sure. And I also noticed shadows lingered outside of the door when I went to get a glass of water late at night."
Gwyn's teal eyes thinned with caution, meeting Nesta's keen stare. "You could just ask the House for water. Why venture all the way to the kitchen?"
The eldest Archeron's lips curled into a knowing grin when she walked away, apparently not needing any more information, as Cassian closed out another training session.
Gwyn clapped her hands together and practically skipped down the stairs to the library. She'd decided. She was going to pack the rest of her things and move into the House today.
Going into the library, she bowed in greeting to Clotho, waving to a few fellow Valkyrie sisters getting ready to work as she went. Making her way to her dorm, she spun, suddenly deciding to go give praise to the Mother in the temple after the wonderful night she had. After the revelation.
With a full heart and a pulsing in the center of her chest, Gwyn entered the reticent, solemn space. She anointed her head from the blessed fount, making her way up the aisle to the altar with love and praise.
For the strength to overcome.
For the focus she needed during her worst.
For the courage to try new things.
For the hope that they did not damage her heart beyond repair.
Despite how shitty the organized religion had become, the Mother had never truly left or let Gwyn down.
"Thank you," Gwyn said, eyes misty.
"You should have left when you had the chance, Gwyneth Berdara."
Hairs rose on the back of her neck as her entire body stiffened. She would recognize that condescending voice anywhere— Merrill.
Yep, Merrill has made a sneaky return...