SUMMARY: After a late evening spar, Gwyn and Azriel have a heart-to-heart.

Mild TW for a mention of her SA.

He came at her with a sudden jab to her right side. She blocked, ducking enough to take out his left leg. He, of course, recognized her move coming from a mile away. Grabbing a hold of her ankle, he tossed her until she flipped over, her back slamming to the mats. She twisted and rolled until she popped up to her feet. His annoyingly handsome face was there when she did.

Azriel was steadfast in teacher guise, hands planted firmly on lean hips that she was now intimately acquainted with. One glimpse at his scowl and forehead lines showed he was not amused with his pupil.

A brutal wind ripped over the training ring, biting her to the bone. Gwyn had never been so glad Rhysand bought out Emerie's entire cache of fur-lined female Illyrian leathers for the trainees. Even so, the cold eked through the layered, thick material, her flesh bumpy under the tight fabric.

Still, the brisk air didn't deter either of them on long nights when nightmares roused them from sleep. When not even a passionate kiss was enough to chase away the darkness, the fear, as well as poised fists and kicks. Sometimes Gwyn would need to be more aggressive, something she wasn't entirely sure of yet in the bedroom. Yet being the most intriguing word.

So, instead of letting Azriel have his way with her in warmth and security, she recently crawled out of bed with him following her. Up the well-acquainted stairs together to face the chilling night air.

She stood, out of breath, her sweat freezing on her exposed skin. The shadowsinger was, of course, the consummate portrait of a warrior. His chest rose and fell even and smooth while hers mimicked hummingbird wings.

"What happened? You're being careless, Berdara." His hazel eyes were fierce and sharp, weighing.

Gwyn met his intensity, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, I won't blame a particular someone who has been a major distraction at practice over the past month."

Azriel's lips twitched as she kenned they would. His gaze dipped to the way her breasts lifted above her arms. As she also predicted.

"So, you're blaming me for slipping in your training? Fuck, Berdara, a novice could have beaten your ass tonight."

"Is that so?"

Azriel stepped forward into her space, his wings twitching in annoyance. Wings she was finding increasingly hard to not touch the closer they became, inviting her curiosity each time they were in bed. When they first pleasured each other with their mouths over a month ago, Gwyn managed a sneaky brief caress of his wing.

The first, but not the last. Since then, if Azriel was at home, they occupied any free time with pleasure as they consumed one another. And Azriel was voracious. A mere thought warmed the air a scant bit.

But since that eventful day, Azriel had a point. Training had become harder. They had both been naked. Exposed. Seen, felt, and tasted the most intimate parts you could share with another. And knowing exactly what Azriel looked like with no clothes on? What his face looked like gloriously screwed in pleasure? The shadowsinger distracted Gwyn.

Everything about him was a fantastic distraction. His muscled form. His strength. The way he moved smoothly as rain over stone. His beauty both inside and out. The intensity of his look that she only suddenly realized had almost always been there. Before, she thought the shadowsinger merely regarded her form. Her precision with her fists and blades, strictly for correction

Now, though, Gwyn realized there had always been an eagerness to his gaze. Sometimes stopping her mid-swing. There was no denying the heat of his stare caressed more than his shadows stretching over her skin. Even when there was a whole rooftop between him and her. His eyes were impossible to miss, even if the rest of Azriel's face reflected poise and indifference.

They were the most beautiful color. A kaleidoscope of browns and dusky grays broken with bursts of viridity.

But when turned on? They became deep green onyx with copper veins. And they inevitably found her at least once every practice, turning her into a cumbersome fool on over one occasion. The last time being with a sword in hand the day prior as Gwyn worked on the eight-pointed star, back-to-back with Nesta.

The errors resulted in Cassian kicking Azriel out of training a few times for causing a disturbance with his "second favorite pupil."

Which resulted in Azriel sending his brother a vulgar gesture and telling him "funny considering you eye-fuck your mate the entire practice."

Which then culminated in Mor stepping in with a firm hand, admonishing them both they were brothers and to act their age. Both crossed their arms over their hulking chests. Az rolled those exquisite eyes. Cassian mimicked and mocked her from behind her back.

Azriel stepped forward, lowering his forehead to Gwyn's, jarring her from her thoughts. "I'm sorry. Does it truly make you feel uncomfortable?"

His hands glided down her leathered arms and around to her back, lugging her into his embrace. His wings wrapped around them in a cocoon against the December gales. Gwyn relished the heat of him. His palms rubbed her arms back and forth, willing heat to return to her frozen body.

"Uncomfortable? No. Still a distraction, Shadowsinger."

"So, is my presence truly disruptive?"

"I can't help but gawk at you when you're shirtless and sweaty, Az. Or when you bend over."

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. She took every laugh he gave her as a win and tried to draw one from him whenever possible. Every precious one earned was like touching the stone at the summit of Ramiel again.

"Noted, Berdara. Though I must admit, I'm pleased you find my ass distracting. I will compel myself to cease from bending in your direction. At least when blades are involved."

Gwyn sighed wistfully, propping her cheek on the scalloped leather covering his hard upper chest.

"Fine," she droned, and he grunted at her concession. "Same goes for me to you."

"So no more ogling your ass in public?"

She lifted her head, rubbing the cold tip of her nose against his. "You're the shadowsinger and spymaster. I believe you could ogle without being detected. At least I would hope so."

"True, but I like when you notice." His hand slid to her lower back, gliding until his fingers spread across the swell of her ass, groaning when he gave a squeeze. "I've seen a lot of asses, Gwyn." She pulled back to glower at his concession, and he flicked her nose playfully. "But yours is, by fucking far, the best I've seen in five hundred years."

Gwyn huffed a laugh. "An admirable, charming but bald-faced lie." He squinted down at her as she shook her head, sending her red braid slithering between her covered shoulder blades. "No way, Shadowsinger. Have you seen Morrigan's ass? My gods, Mor's ass is beyond perfect. I merely wish I filled out the rear of those dresses as well as she."

His fingers gouged into her backside almost to a painful level, and his entire body stiffened. Wings unfurled just sufficient that coldness whipped in, striking her cheek. The shadows surged around them, trying to obstruct the gusts.

Wait…

Her fingernails dug, leaving tiny crescent in the facade of his leathers. What were the chances? Had Azriel seen Morrigan's ass? Without clothes? They'd known each other a while. Sometimes, we saw other people in a different light.

All Gwyn could picture now was the gorgeous blonde leaning into the shadowsinger at Rita's. Albeit a fuzzy picture through the haze of alcohol and jealousy, one that ended on a possessive growl from deep inside her chest, echoing as loud as thunder.

As if coming out of a trance, Azriel blinked and released the tight grip on her rear. Stepping back and creating a modicum of distance between their bodies, he used his wing to block her from the wintry onslaught, which now included a light powder of falling snow. Quietly, he ushered her to the door, and down the long hall between their rooms, stopping in the middle.

The choice was always hers. To sleep alone or together. Pick the room where it would occur. Gwyn knew if she wanted to, she could kick the dreaded spymaster of the Night Court out of his room and have the bed as wide as Prythian to herself.

Except for when he was out doing his court-appointed duties, Gwyn had been sleeping next to Azriel comfortably nearly every night since Merrill's death. Most nights, they slept in his room together. She abhorred the image of him in her bed, the thought of his wings draping the floor almost sacrilege.

Some nights, though? Gwyn still needed space. Her mind was much like the weather outside tonight. A blinding flurry of questions. She wondered if she had the right to speculate. Or ask about.

'Your hearts sing the same song,' the breeze whispered, his shadows curling around her ankle like contented house cats.

As Azriel waited for her answer, he loosed a resigned sigh, lifting her hand to place a tender kiss on her swollen knuckles.

Ultimately, as they both turned to go to their respective rooms, his low voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Gwyn, can we talk?"

Cauldron, damn him. He didn't want to discuss it. His physical energy had already run out. But his shadows wouldn't shut the fuck up.

'Something's wrong. The lovely Valkyrie's confidence is shaken.

'About what?'

'The Morrigan.'

Fuck.

Fuck.

'But you are over the Morrigan, correct?'

Of course, he fucking was. He and Mor had their heart-to-heart. They both moved on. Each of them was happy for the other. Didn't mean Azriel wanted to dredge up their complicated history with his now…

His what?

Girlfriend sounded almost too informal, considering what she meant to him now.

Lover sounded cheap, undeserving of Gwyneth's endearing beauty.

What would one call a best friend that you cherished above all else? A respected partner you'd lay your life down to protect?

'A wife,' his shadows laughed, roiling and eddying in their amusement.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

But in all seriousness, whatever the hell title they were for them, Az didn't want to lose it. Like watching the last sliver of light behind his closing cell door, Az was near desperate to hold on to this as long as possible.

As his sinister, twisted thoughts reminded him every damn day with memories of his beloved mother, who suffered so much all because she bore him. His mother, now trapped in the worst kind of hell because he was born, kept her connected to his abusive father.

Of Isra, Rhys's beloved sister. Azriel's first love, who had died so young.

Of Rhysand's mother, who had taken in an abused boy and adored him as her own son.

Of Mor, who had enraptured him for centuries with her looks and resilience.

Of Elain, whose kindness began to patch up pieces torn apart by rejection.

Love was a fleeting beast.

Love would invariably end.

But until then? Gwyn was his only focus until then. If that meant baring his past and making himself vulnerable? Azriel would.

Years seemingly passed as he watched her tense shoulders sag and her head nod. He took her hand without hesitation when she offered.

Entering her chamber, Azriel picked a spot at the end of her bed and patted his knee. She perched on his thigh.

He tilted her face to meet his. "Talk to me, Gwyn."

When she tried to look down, he strengthened the grip on her chin. His shadows ran over her fidgeting hands. With his free hand, Azriel undid her plaited braid, running his fingers through the silken red waves in a soothing touch.

"Have you seen Mor naked?" she asked, her tone soft in her question.

"No."

She blinked rapidly. "I believe you."

"Well, that's a good thing."

"Have you wanted to?"

A deep breath in. A heavy breath out. "Yes." Her body fixed, and he had to stop her chin from dipping. His eyes stayed locked on the teal orbs, and he refused to let them fall. "I liked Mor for many, many years."

"For how long?" Gwyn asked, her eyes seeking his in a voice that was too small for his fiery nymph.

He swallowed thickly, running his thumb over her jawline. "Until a few years ago. Though, I think I gave up genuine hope long before that. I'm not positive. I was in a rut.

"So she was the five-centuries-pining girl?"

Azriel balked at the nickname, reflecting on a conversation on the rooftop months and months ago. The wonderful night Gwyn first kissed him. The night she reminded him he deserved love. That he shouldn't let his thoughts beat him down.

He didn't know how else to answer except with an unsteady, "Yes."

Gwyn nodded in his grasp, her hands falling loosely in her lap. "I can't blame you. She's gorgeous. And amazing."

"I thought I loved her for a long time," he admitted, the first true words he'd spoken to anyone about his misguided affections for Morrigan. "But, now, I realized… I wasn't in love with her." Not actually. Not in the same way he loved the redhead perched in his lap.

Gwyn angled her head, the fall of crimson spilling like wine over the obsidian leather. "But you were attracted to her?"

He nodded. "I was."

"You wished to have sex with her?

He nodded again. "And I was jealous as fuck Cassian was the one she turned to when she sought to lose her virginity. A complicated history for another night. But we have since spoken on the subject and Mor was afraid to with me." As Gwyn's eyes widened, he quickly added, "Because she was afraid sex would seal my affections for her in my eyes and she wasn't feeling the same way—"

"Because she preferred females or because of you?"

"Both I guess? I'm not sure." He scrubbed a hand through his sweat-damped hair, now glazed in melting snowflakes. "To be honest, I can't dwell on it anymore. But there is nothing between me and Morrigan besides a tangled past and friendship. Nothing more."

"Fair enough." Gwyn offered him a modest smile, kissing his cheek. "Thank you for being honest with me, Azriel. I see this was a lot. And I apologize once again. My jealousy and insecurities pop up at the most untimely hours."

"Insecurities about what?"

"You've said you had many lovers. I've had you. Singular." Tossing her head back, she cursed to the Mother before saying, "How do I know I'm not terrible? You'd tell no one they were, not even blowing-blowjob-girl. You're too kind."

A snort punctuated his hearty laugh. When her eyes narrowed, Azriel sensed the mood lightening, and his shadows expand a relieved exhalation.

"One, Gwyn. I'm not always nice in the bedroom" He winked and her thighs rubbed together. "Second, you're not bad at all. Sex isn't right or wrong. Except perhaps sucking instead of blowing."

"Perhaps the slang term should be renamed to reflect the actual act," she quipped.

"Perhaps." Az grinned crookedly, resting his forehead on hers. "Though, indeed, sometimes blowing on certain places has moments. You should clean up and change into your bedclothes. It's late."

"I will." Gwyn paused as she stood. "Will you stay to chat for a few more minutes? I'm keyed up and I have things on my mind now."

He snickered. "Oh gods, I can only imagine what I'm in for."

"Go clean up and come back to find out," Gwyn said as she clutched a long t-shirt, one she stole from his stash and skipped into her bathroom.

Mother, save him with this one.

Mother, let him keep this one.

"I realized something, Shadowsinger. Your infatuation with my number forty-nine makes sense now. You are obsessed with my ass. Captivated. Almost as much as you are preoccupied with Truth-Teller."

Gwyn giggled as he schooled his face as if this were not true. He reached across the distance of the bed and tickled her ribs. The instant she rolled onto her stomach, he swatted her ass, fondly rubbing out the slight hurt. His lips curved up wickedly in one corner.

"I won't deny such a wonderful obsession, Berdara. Probably my healthiest to be honest." His hand lingered.

"Next question, Shadowsinger. You admitted to sex with more than one person in the room."

He exhaled loudly through his nose, his head shifting restlessly on the pillow. "Yes. I have, as I've mentioned before."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I've fucked a few females at one occasion but the experience was ever… arduous." She snorted and his brows drew down. "Don't take my statement to mean I lack stamina, Berdara. I can go all fucking night." Cauldron above, Gwyn definitely suspected such. "I've fucked females in the same room with other men. I've shared a female with other men. My first encounter with a male was when I was young and at war, curious, and unsure. It was the first and the final."

"Bottom or top?"

The shadowsinger stared at her with a blank expression. "What do you think, Gwyn? And have you read male-male smut?"

"You've tried everything, and I have read nearly everything. And I would presume top. You seem to prefer the control."

His slight smile turned positively rakish. "Oh, you know me so well, Gwyneth. " The way he crooned her name filled her with dark promises she hoped he kept. "We definitely had things in common on your list. And, for the record, I don't always like power. On the rarest of occasions, only with those I've trusted most, I've freely given up control."

Azriel's coarse fingertips elicited a shiver brushing along her forearm. Despite this wealth of detail, Gwyn was far more captivated than bothered by the revelations. The imagery alone caused her blood heat and muscles to coil low in her stomach. Admittedly, she liked Azriel being open about his past with her. Glimpsing his past made her feel a part of his life. His future, even.

"Thoughts?" He asked with a raised onyx eyebrow.

Her arm slid across teal sheets with her answering shrug. "You're more seasoned than me, though I won't hold anything against you. In fact, I realize the fact may be to my benefit now. Though I'm not interested in inviting anyone into our bed, Azriel."

By tightly squeezing his hand, she reassured him.

He emitted a long, shuddering breath. "Your turn. So, out of your list, what position intrigues you the most, Berdara?"

Well, certainly a valid question. "Cauldron, I don't think I could pick just one. This is how the list came into existence."

"Noted."

"Okay, my next question, Azriel. Favorite position?"

"From behind," he said without a moment's hesitation, an answer she found unexpected. Gwyn thought it would be more complex for someone with such a past in between sheets.

"Why?"

"Depth. Leverage. Angle. View."

"Well, Shadowsinger, such a highly clinical appraisal."

"Plus, helps with my ass fixation." He winked.

Gwyn howled with laughter and he offered her such a full smile as if seeing her meant everything to him. The center of her chest throbbed, and she swore she heard music.

Until she realized something awful. As her smile slipped off her face, his hand gently cradle her jaw.

"Gwyn, what's wrong?"

"I—" Her mind was panicking. Her eyes met his, darting from one to the other frantically. "I can't imagine I would ever be able to. Not after..."

All the happiness and warmth slipped from his face and she knew— she knew he understood what she was saying without uttering the words. Having been there, he saw. Azriel had run in on the aftermath of her violation.

And damn her to hell, this hurt. Gwyn's nightmares tainted something she craved to share with him, something he much enjoyed. It made her sick. Yet another thing always skulking in bed with them.

"Gwyn," he said, his thumb stroking. Azriel scooted closer, adjusting his wings as he rose to sit. She moved to his side, nestling her head into the crook of his neck. His lips ghosted over her temple as he secured an arm around her, holding her for dear life. "It's fine."

"No, it's not." She shook her head, her nose brushing against the soft fabric of his white shirt. "You just told me from behind was your favorite, and I don't think I can give that to you."

"You don't have to worry, sweetheart."

"Like hell, I don't, Az. This matters to me. I want to give you—"

His lips swept over her forehead. "Think of the reasons I gave you, Gwyn. As you pointed out, everything was clinical. The position feels great to me but also good to whomever I was with. It's not if your partner isn't responding the same." His shuddering sigh stirred the hair at her temples. "Do you want to know the main reason I prefer from behind?" Her forehead grazed against his stubble on her nod. "My hands were hidden."

Gwyn sat up to hold his gaze as he continued. Azriel's focus was only on the scarred hand over hers. "No matter who I was with, if I was behind, I didn't even have to touch their skin. I gripped onto their hair only if my hands were an issue. So, although it's physically great in the position, my other reason for the preference leaned on purposeful."

Something inside Gwyn cracked at his admission. She twined her fingers through his, her eyes swelling with tears. "Azriel."

"I want to do everything with you, Gwyn. Make you feel good in every which way possible. But the last thing I want to do is hurt you. Scare you. So, if doing that would drag your mind to a place of discomfort, I won't. And I'll be content with everything we can share. Because it'll be with you."

"And if I wanted to try someday?"

His throat bobbed. "I… I would never deny you anything. I can't." Az halted, his dark eyebrows slammed down in straight lines, forehead creasing in obvious thought. "We can do things to give you the same experience. If you straddle me, ride me facing my feet, the position would be the same physically for you and would put you in control of the movement."

"Then we shall try that." Gwyn brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back. Holding the injured flesh to her lips, she said, "And for the record, Az, I love your hands on me. I love they saved me. I love the pleasure they bring me. And I don't trust anyone else's hands to catch me if I fall."

Unwrapping his arm, she rose to her knees, swinging one over his lap. His hands settled, steadied her hips. Azriel was always steadying her. Gwyn overwhelmed heart and mind swirled into a perfect storm. By his kindness. His consideration. His passion and desire. All from Azriel, who received little if none of the aforementioned in his long life.

Cradling Azriel's handsome face in her hands, Gwyn's words slipped out as naturally as breathing. "I love you."

So, this chapter actually changed and developed as I wrote into something more poignant. I needed to show a little time had passed since the last steamy chapter. I wanted Azriel to be more open about his past relationships. I wanted Gwyn to accept and be open to change and her limitations. This laid out the framework for things in the next two chapters. I hope you enjoyed it!