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feyreasonss · 2 years ago

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Lying In Between The Memories

You could call it paradise but it looks just like hell to me

Summary: Following the blood rite, Gwyneth Berdara can't shake the memories of a life long-gone.

The shadowsinger can't seem to move on after five centuries of loving the same woman.

Together, they'll have to carve a new path forward.

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter

[ongoing TW for Sexual Assault]

There was magic in the air. Gwyn could all but taste it as Azriel laid her out on the bed. The reverence to his touch gave her pause—did he treat all females this way? She didn’t need to ask to know the answer to that question.

No.

This was different, somehow. Different in a way she didn’t dare contemplate lest she change her mind. Gwyn wanted him so badly it was making her hands shake, was clouding her vision. Her thoughts beat in time with her heart, a constant refrain of his name, his eyes, his scent.

This was a different sort of challenge, their familiar dynamic settling between them. Straddling her waist, Azriel looked down at her with dark, heavy lidded eyes that betrayed his own desire. Gwyn felt powerful, right then. He would have done anything she asked. Anything…except…maybe…

Azriel lowered his mouth to kiss her. “Stop,” she breathed, pressing a hand to his chest.

A flurry of movement happened so abruptly, so quickly that Gwyn couldn’t keep up with it. One moment the pleasant weight of Azriel’s form was pressing her to the mattress and the next the overhead chandelier was rattling as he pressed himself against the far wall, eyes wild.

“I—” he tried, voice strangled. The tendons in his neck were stark, betraying the effort in which he was keeping himself away from her. Why, she wondered, was it so difficult? Gwyn propped herself up on her elbows, refusing to feel an ounce of guilt for his discomfort.

“I just needed to know you would,” she told him, holding his gaze. “Please come back.”

“Anything,” he breathed, his wings relaxing around him. “I’ll do anything you say.”

Again, the question why tried to force itself out of her throat. Gwyn didn’t dare ask it. She wouldn’t ask. Swallowing the word, Gwyn reached for his shoulders to the moment his knee hit the mattress, pulling him back atop her for a messy, almost mean kiss. It wasn’t him she was trying to punish, but herself. She knew better—she ought to stop this, stop him and she couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Didn’t she deserve one good thing?

No.

Gwyn pushed that thought aside, too. She wanted him and maybe, if she forced herself to believe she was good enough for him, that she deserved him, it would be true. She could forget everything else easily enough—Azriel’s hand cupped her cheek, callused skin scraping over the softness of her face as his teeth tugged gently at her bottom lip.

Open, she swore she heard him say. And she did, parting so he could taste her with a heady, deep groan that reverberated against her very bones. She wouldn’t survive him and she knew it. Maybe she didn’t want to, either. She could hold on to this forever, she decided. Come whatever may afterward, she’d always have this moment.

Even if they went back to their separate lives in Velaris…though, Gwyn suspected he wouldn’t.

Stop worrying about the future, she screamed at herself. Think about Azriel.

That was easy enough. Azriel certainly was doing an effortless job pulling her focus back to him. Who had taught him to kiss like that, she wondered idly, her fingers carding through thick, soft hair?

She’d half expected him to pull her clothes apart and have her with little preamble or further attention. Afterall, she was offering herself to him—why not just take her? Gwyn could admit her perception was skewed from the past and though she wasn’t thinking of that night, she couldn’t erase the knowledge from her mind, either. She understood the mechanics well enough.

And yet Azriel seemed more than content to kiss her, even when he reached for one of the legs she’d hooked around his waist, pulling it higher so he could grind himself against her.

“I want to know what you like,” he whispered, teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.

“I like you,” she replied without thinking. Careful—she’d nearly told him the full truth of the matter. It wasn’t that she liked him, but that she loved him and that was where the danger lay.

“One day I won’t have to ask,” Azriel growled, hands skimming down her sides. “You’ll push me to the bed—you’ll tie me up.”

“Is this a confession, shadowsinger?’ she teased, sliding her hand up the hard plating of his armor. “Do you want to be tied up?”

“Yes,” he replied, rearing up on his knees to reach for the clasps of his clothing. “I want you to ride my face.”

Oh. Gwyn was certain her face was tomato red given the sly smile that spread across Azriel’s handsome face.

“You ah…probably don’t need to be tied up for that,” she managed as the armor thudded loudly to the ground. Stretching out his neck, Azriel’s smile became an almost feral grin.

“Is that so?”

“That’s not…” Azriel rolled his hips against Gwyn, pressing his erection between her thighs and the friction was enough to silence whatever protests she’d intended to offer. Dark hazel eyes watched, framed by a thick fringe of lashes. Gwyn leaned up, nails digging in muscular shoulders to pull him back against her.

“Shut up,” she spoke into his mouth. Gwyn could taste his smile, his pleasure more than just the arousal she knew he felt. How strange to realize that their friendship was making consummating their feelings all the better. Never once had Gwyn considered that genuinely liking him would make sex better.

And yet it was. She relaxed against him, hips rising to meet his own until they were both frantic and desperate, half dressed and yet unable to pull their mouths apart long enough to finish undressing. It was bliss—for once, Gwyn’s mind was utterly silent. All she knew was the male atop her, the taste of his mouth, the scent of his skin, the feel of his hands against her own.

Which made it all the more confusing when her dress was over her head and Azriel was tugging, trying to get her to lift her arms so he could toss it to the floor. When had he undone the buttons? Gwyn tried to remember and found the only thing that registered was when she’d told him to shut up. It was strange to be utterly naked before him, her underthings removed with frantic haste, his fingers all but trembling as they pulled at the laces. Hovering over her, Azriel merely stared as though it was the first time he’d ever truly looked at her.

“Gods,” he breathed, curling his fingers toward his bare chest. “You’re so beautiful. Do you know that?”

Gwyn didn’t know what to say to him, had no idea how to answer that question. Was she? Not any more beautiful than any other female, surely. He was so old, so experienced…it felt almost silly to argue with him. And yet…and yet Gwyn felt a protest rising in her throat, the discomfort of Azriel seeing her so clearly and still finding her beautiful. He could see all the jagged edges she’d pieced back together, knew how they didn’t quite fit the way they once had.

Unaware of her thoughts, Azriel reached for her face as he lowered his own, pressing his forehead against hers so their noses brushed. “Tell me you feel the same way I do.” She knew, right then, what that feeling was. Felt it between them, a cord so taught it robbed her of her ability to speak. Stronger than a ribbon, brighter than shadow.

Oh.

It was lucky her brain was too focused on what was happening between his legs to really put together what was happening everywhere else. She might have bolted, gone straight back to Prythian, back to the library, back to life before she knew Nesta and Emerie and Cassian…and Azriel.

She kissed him, instead. Better to know, she supposed—at least one of them should. And she didn’t need to tell him, right? Azriel didn’t need to know. Not yet, not ever, maybe. She could keep it a secret.

She would keep it a secret. Just until she knew what to do about this newfound knowledge, until she’d studied it and understood what, exactly, was happening. Until she’d found the mother personally, blade in hand, for a fight because how dare she. How dare the mother give Gwyn a mate.

Her kissing was too aggressive, too hungry as she turned this realization over and over in her head. It made sense—too much sense, pieced together the questions she’d had ever since she’d gotten closer to Azriel.

Azriel, at least, seemed blissfully unaware. That was for the best—he would know what a mating bond meant, would understand the gravity of the situation and Gwyn suspected their careful, soft romance would crumble under the weight of needing to accept it. She’d never know if why they had was real, or merely the mating bond pulling them together.

And she wanted more than just a bond.

Mated males were aggressive and territorial according to what she did know. And she was currently in a place where she had no say in whether she accepted the bond or not. Would it override his good sense?

Yes.

His good sense was already gone, his control so taut she was a little excited to see it snap entirely, if only to know that she had been the cause of it.

“Gwyn,” he breathed, her name a symphony on his lips. It was easy to shove everything else aside—those were problems for regular Gwyn to deal with. This was special Gwyn—the female who had his undivided attention and was the focus of his lurid fantasies.

If she’d been braver, she would have done as he’d asked earlier and climbed on his face. She felt shy, nervous even, at the thought of asking him anything or offering up any piece of herself. What if he found he didn’t like it? What if he made comparisons, realized just how inexperienced she was?

Things had changed. She was his mate, even if he didn’t know it, and the thought of him rejecting her was a vice around her throat, choking the words from her. Let him do what he wanted. Let him have her however he wanted.

Azriel always wanted the same thing, anyway. It was a safe bet to give him free reign with her body because all Azriel seemed to think about was putting his face between her legs until she was a writhing, wrung out mess. Part of her had wondered if he still would—hoped he might, and had expected him not to do much more than touch before pulling out his cock and taking her. Azriel acted as though he had all the time in the world. Maybe he did—maybe he’d forgotten Eris Vanserra was a looming presence and would certainly redescend upon them the first chance he got.

Trailing his tongue down her stomach, Azriel kept his eyes pinned to her face, waiting for a protest that was never going to come. Gwyn liked his mouth between her legs, like the way he made her come like this, seemingly with no concern for his own pleasure. Though, it certainly did something for him. She watched as he adjusted himself, hips pressing hard against the mattress as he spread her open.

It was a slow torment, mouth kissing one thigh, trailing higher and higher before he switched with a devilish smile as she squirmed and moved, trying to position herself exactly right but Azriel continued his teasing until she did the one thing she knew he wanted.

Gwyn begged. “Azriel,” she panted, holding his gaze as he waited, his shoulders all but trembling with whatever monumental restraint it took to keep himself from tasting her. “Please—”

That was as far as he let her go, tongue delving into her body with a rumbling, near animalistic groan. Everything melted away, leaving Gwyn once again in a world only she and Azriel occupied. She wanted to live there permanently, to stay forever in this place they’d created and the magic that shielded them.

Reaching for the strands of his hair, Gwyn raked her nails along his scalp, her sighs of pleasure loud enough to encourage him to keep going. She wasn’t going to perform for him—wasn’t going to scream and cry and whimper. If he wanted her, he would have to take her exactly as she was.

She wanted him to know exactly what he was getting into so when she was forced to deliver the news they were mates, he at least knew what the next five centuries of his life might look and feel and sound like. Maybe that was the scholar in her that couldn’t just let things be, who needed to uncover the truth even about their potential relationship before she could make an informed decision.

And she wanted him to do the same.

But more than anything, Gwyn wanted Azriel to want her the way he did right then. Wanted him to forever feel this dizzy, this desperate, this out of control. Not because some divine force compelled him to, but because it was her, and any other choice was simply unfathomable.

Another soft groan pulled Gwyn from her thoughts, her attention refocused on the male between her legs. Azriel’s hips, still clad in his leather pants, ground against the mattress in a rhythm that left her ears ringing softly. She wanted to know what that felt like, to share more than just space, but a body.

Given they already shared a soul, it seemed all that was left. Maybe there was something to be said about impatience, she decided, even as his tongue slid up and down her cunt, tasting every inch of her thoroughly. Didn’t he want to know what it felt like? Where was his sense of urgency?

She could hurry him along, she decided. Gwyn twisted the fingers in his hair, pushing him closer and Azriel groaned again, his tongue moving faster, his fingers teasing her entrance. This was what she needed, she thought, her anxiety melting into nothing more than arousal. Azriel was focused, his free hand wrapping around her waist to lift her into the air, bringing her even closer to his face. It didn’t seem as though he could breathe and perhaps he didn’t care to, no longer required anything but her to sustain himself.

He was certainly licking her as if that were the case. One finger, and then another, pushed into her body, eliciting a hiss of air from Azriel at whatever he found. Was he imagining how it might feel on his cock? Gwyn certainly hoped so because she wanted to know, too.

Gwyn wanted to replace every bad memory with a good one, wanted to know only pleasure. Just this once, she thought, the words a silent prayer and plea to the Mother above. She wouldn’t ask for anything else if she could have just one perfect moment with this male she loved.

The male who was her mate.

Gwyn rose higher and higher, gripping the sheets for purchase on reality while Azriel continued, determined to see this to the end. And when she came she fractured entirely, those pieces she’d carefully put back into place breaking once more only to reforge themselves amidst the golden light she swore shimmered between them.

Azriel cursed, pulling his fingers from her still convulsing body while she watched through heavy lids. He brought them to his lips, tasting her once again before he reached for his pants. Hesitating, Azriel asked, “Are you sure?”

If she told him no, would he fling himself across the room again? Words eluded her just this once, leaving Gwyn to nod, to reach for him even as he began unlacing his trousers. It was both seconds and an eternity before he was finally unclothed, still kneeling over her as if he expected her to change his mind.

But Gwyn wouldn’t—she couldn’t.

And she was ready.

AZRIEL:

Breathe.

That was the only thought that came to him as he lowered himself against his mate, her teals gleaming with trust he wasn’t sure was entirely deserved. After all, he was half lying to her. Hoping that by having sex with her, he could force her to feel the mating bond and keep them together in the most permanent way possible.

Truthfully, he’d hoped it would have snapped already, but he’d take what he could get. Leaning his chest against her own, Azriel kissed her to distract from what was about to happen. He’d vowed to make it as painless as possible no matter how badly the mating urge in his chest snarled to just take her. There would be time for it—one day when she was used to him, when she trusted him.

When he’d let her tie him up and have utter control, she’d let him have a little, too. Let him be messy, rough—even mean, he hoped. Today, though, was building on the trust he hoped he’d been laying since they’d first met.

Do you trust me not to hurt you? Do you trust that I love you? That I would ruin this world if you asked me to?

Because he would have done far more terrible things than simply line the head of his cock up with her cunt. Azriel would have destroyed all Rhys’s careful alliances with the continents, with the seasonal courts and even the solar courts too, if Gwyn felt even momentarily insulted. He’d turn his back on his friends, his home, his life before her.

He’d pull out his sword and carve bloody vengeance through her enemies simply to see her smile and gods the mere thought of doing so made him smile. Gwyn didn’t notice, was unaware of the vicious fantasies weaving their way through his mind as she dug her nails into his shoulders. That was, perhaps, for the best.

She was too kind—she’d never ask him for any of the things he wanted to do. And maybe, he considered, she didn’t have to. Or shouldn’t, at least. The years she’d spent suffering surely warranted a little violence on her behalf? Azriel knew she wouldn’t be angry with him if he did, if nothing else. Exasperated, perhaps…but maybe not even that.

She’d get her own weapon bloody too. He shuddered at the thought, the image of the pair of them standing shoulder to shoulder, hands curled around unforgivably sharp blades, skin splattered in cooling blood.

Mine, you’re mine, you’re mine—

“I’ve been waiting centuries for you,” he whispered against her neck instead. Gwyn merely whimpered, lips parted for a kiss he was all too glad to give her. That was true, at least—he had been waiting, wondering, wishing. She was here, now, and Azriel wasn’t giving her up. Wasn’t sending her back into the world without him just behind, one hand resting on his sword in warning. The world had thought to be cruel to her—a mistake it would not make again.

Azriel pushed himself ever so slightly into her body, his fragile control fracturing without entirely breaking. He’d prepared himself, he reminded himself through gritted teeth. When his fingers had been in her body, he’d known exactly what he was going to encounter. And he’d sworn it would be fine—that he could handle the slowness she would require.

His mistake was thinking his fingers and his cock shared anything in common. However good it had felt to feel her come against his hand, this was infinitely better. Exquisite, even. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, arms trembling with the effort it took to hold himself over her, muscles pulled taut as he forced himself not to drive himself fully into her.

He felt her squeeze around the head of his cock, pulling a puff of air from his lungs. This was torture like he’d never imagined, heaven and hell, pain and pleasure all at once. “Gwyn,” he groaned, both prayer and plea.

“More,” she replied, her forehead resting against his chest. “I can take it.”

He didn’t think he could. Still, Azriel inched himself in further and further still, watching her for any signs of discomfort—anything that would convince him to stop, to try again another day. Even when his body screamed at him to keep going, that he would tear off his own skin if he had to leave her, Azriel held himself tight, wings tucked against his back.

It occurred to him once he was fully seated in her body, that Gwyn would never tell him if he was hurting her. He hadn’t thought of it before, had forgotten how stubborn and single-minded she could be. She’d made a decision and she’d see it through if only to satisfy her own academic curiosity.

“Tell me how you feel,” he ordered, pulling on the magic of their shared mating bond to compel her to answer. Gwyn didn’t open her eyes, though she did slide her hands up and down his bare chest.

“Good,” she whispered, squeezing herself somehow tighter. Azriel’s hips jerked of their own accord, drawing two mirrored moans of pleasure from them both. She couldn’t fake that, he decided—she wouldn’t. If she was miserable, he’d know. He’d feel it.

Azriel hesitated for only a second, hoping to see her eyes fly open with recognition, to have the satisfaction of her realization that he was her mate. There was no disappointment when she didn’t.

It was impossible to feel disappointment when he was buried inside her body, after all. Azriel thrust again as nicely as he could—which wasn’t very nice at all—deeply satisfied when she moaned again. Of course she’d like what he liked. They were matched, after all. Not that he intended to fully unleash himself on her. He had all the time in the world for that and still Azriel’s pleasure was heightened by the knowledge she was enjoying him. That she wanted him for something beyond his status and his appearance.

That she’d seen into his ugly soul and found something beautiful. Something worth loving. Azriel told himself that was enough—no one had ever cared for him like that. He could tell her the truth about himself, could let her see the things he hid from everyone else and Gwyn didn’t flinch, didn’t turn and run or wish for something better. She saw it and she liked it.

“Fuck,” he whispered, lacking the eloquence the moment demanded. Gwyn’s eyes opened, a shade of blue so dark they looked like icy pools of water—a midnight sky dotted with stars. Whatever control he had left was lost to him, slipping away on a whispering wind as though it were another of his shadows.

His next thrust was rougher, more punishing than before. Not so hard to bruise. Just enough to see that sharpness return to her gaze, her cheeks flushed with heat. She’d come once, he rationalized, and male pride demanded she come again. That he feel her pleasure wrapped around his cock.

Azriel pressed himself fully against her, bracing his body weight against his elbows so he could kiss her. Madness overtook him the moment she kissed him back, tongue tangling with his own to taste her own arousal still lingering in his throat. The feel of her lips against his own only heightened his pleasure, drawing him too high too fast. He needed her to come, too—needed to fuck her again, and again, and again.

He understood right then the danger of what he’d done. This wasn’t how he normally felt. Azriel wasn’t himself, couldn’t stop the growl that slipped when he licked down her throat nor the possessive hand on her hip. Gwyn panted, head thrown back as she drew higher, her cunt tightening around him rhythmically. She was going to come and he was going to die. Azriel knew it and couldn’t stop himself, his own thrusts erratic and desperate,

He was chanting her name like she was a goddess, he her most fervent acolyte. Perhaps he was. Gwyn came, her back arching off the bed with such force she slammed her forehead against his collarbone. The sight of her was holy—and Azriel’s awe was overshadowed only by his own pulsating desire. He came a mere second later, exhaling loudly while Gwyn’s teeth bit roughly into his shoulder to swallow whatever scream might have escaped.

It wasn’t enough. He felt sated and needy all at once. Even as he felt his own come slide between them, making a mess of the sheets, Azriel couldn’t stop his thrusting. Gwyn didn’t ask him to, nails carving a bloody path down his back before she remembered his wings.

He came that second time before her, unable to help himself when her fingers slid along the edge of his wing exactly as he’d always fantasized. He was too loud, his growl rattling the window panes.

He needed the other males to know, secrecy be damned.

If you touch her, I’ll kill you.

Brutally slow, with the efficiency of a torturer who knew what he was doing.

His only saving grace was the female beneath him—she came again, half laughing, half panting and oh. She was everything. More than just his mate, he realized, but perhaps his best friend, too. And that smile on her face, her pretty, breathless laughter, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

It was enough to slow him down, to remind him she wasn’t going anywhere. Azriel pulled her into his arms, face buried in her neck as he bit back all the things he wanted to say. And Gwyn let him, holding him just as fiercely, just as tightly.

“I’m not done with you, shadowsinger,” she whispered into his hair before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Neither was he.

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