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nikethestatue · 1 year

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Princess Tea Party (Part 2)

A Walk in the Park

Elain Archeron Week 'Free Day' @elainarcheronweek

Warning: Explicit

Part 1 Azriel and Darius Night

Elain Archeron, Nesta Archeron, Feyre Archeron

“He said that?” Nesta’s normally cool, composed voice was sounding semi-hysterical.

“Yep,” Elain popped the ‘P’.

“He literally said ‘I am gonna fuck all your holes’?” Nesta demanded. “Just like that?”

“Yep.”

“That’s some next level dirty talk right out of the gate,” Nesta muttered, sighing with what Elain had assumed was admiration. “Do you even understand what that means?”

“What does it mean?” Elain asked weakly, throwing her legs up on the back of the sofa.

Once she was able to process what had transpired–and that was a bit of an exaggeration that she ‘processed’ it, because truthfully, she sure as fuck didn’t process anything that Azriel had said to her–she went to call her sister. She had to share this crazy ass day with someone. She needed to share Azriel with someone!

“And what did you say?” Nesta inquired like they were discussing what to get for lunch.

“Ummm, I certainly didn’t tell me ‘please fuck all my holes, Darius’s dad, whose last name I don’t know!”

“You don’t need a last name to have a guy all up in your business,” Nesta noted.

“Your moral compass is all skewed,” Elain replied, wondering how they were even sisters.

“What does he look like again?” Suddenly Feyre’s voice popped on the line and Elain groaned, having not noticed that Nesta got their younger sister on the three-way call.

“Apparently, he is an Armani-model-biker-gang-leader-mafia-pornstar,” Nesta reported unhelpfully.

“He is not a pornstar!” Elain objected nervously.

“He talks like one,” Feyre argued reasonably.

“He told her he is gonna fuck her ass,” Nesta piped in, and Elain begged, “ohmagod, please stop!”

“Wow, first convo butt sex…the gentleman does not believe in wasting time,” Feyre laughed obnoxiously, adding a low whistle to the mix.

“Oh and he told her he was gonna finger her too,” Nesta added, while Elain was glad that she wasn’t facetiming with them, because her face was burning up.

“Is that before or after the butt stuff?” Feyre inquired.

“That was a whole separate conversation,”

“Ellie, you sure you are still a virgin?” Feyre teased. “After this much dirty talk, you might have naturally de-virginised yourself! Or he,”

“Screw you both!” Elain hissed. “I am not a virgin. I got a kid!”

“Still kind of a virgin,” Nesta said decisively. “And imagine his skills in the bedroom if he can dirty talk you up like that? He can probably hammer your pussy to the point where you don’t know which way is up or down,”

“Are you kidding me now?”

“Not at all. This is one confident man!”

“So,” Feyre interrupted, “do we have a pic of this studly dirty-mouthed baby daddy?”

Elain sighed dramatically and then said prissily,

“Okay. I took a pic. Before the party started.”

“Ahhh you did!”

“I want it. I need it!” Feyre begged like a needy teenager.

“Oh god. I’ll send it, but I don’t want you to make a fuss,” Elain warned, but Nesta immediately shot that down.

“If he is worth making a fuss over, we’ll make a fuss!”

Wincing, Elain sent the photo to her nutty sisters.

It was a really cute photo–seven girls, all dressed up as princesses and holding plaques with their names on them–Isabella, Tay, Karo, Nell, Tee, Caroline, Cassie and then, there was Darius, who held a sign that said ‘Dari’ because when Elain made it, she didn’t know he was a boy. She and Azriel stood in the background.

“Sweet baby Moses,” Feyre gushed breathlessly.

“Let him do the butt stuff with you!” Nesta encouraged immediately.

“I knew this was gonna happen,” Elain moaned.

“And Oh. My. God. His kid!” Feyre’s voice became screechy on the other side.

“He looks like a cartoon character,” Nesta laughed. “This is the cutest darn kid in history. He looks like a little paperboy from ‘Peaky Blinders’,”

“He is wearing suspenders,” Feyre cooed softly. “I wanna pinch him and his fat cheeks!!!”

“But look at this prime piece of male real estate,” Nesta commented. “Oh-la-la. I’d ride him up and down the highway of all this very black, and very expensive clothing,”

“You are sick,” Elain muttered.

“No sweetheart,” Nesta interrupted, “this is a hella hot man.”

“He looks like a Pinterest model,” Feyre agreed. “All broody and tattoo-ty.”

There was a pause, and Nesta added, her tone more serious than before, “As I look at this, I can say that you two honestly look really good together.”

“What?” Elain wasn’t sure if her sister was joking, but it didn’t sound like it.

“Yes, I agree,” Feyre said. “You look like you…belong. Even though it’s obviously ridiculous because he is this tattooed hunk of burnin’ love and you are a fairy tale princess,”

“I am not!”

“You are. And yet, you two look really good together.”

After her sisters were done ogling the photo, Elain asked,

“What do I do with him?”

“You go for it!” Feyre said immediately.

“Surprisingly, I agree with her,” Nesta added. “This is a not-to-be missed experience. Besides, he is hot for you. You don’t need to work for it. I mean, you could be sitting on Tinder, swiping up and down, right and left, but you got this gorgeous man primed and ready for you–pop quiz, what do you do?”

“I take it I should go for it?” Elain asked quietly.

“That’s a resounding ‘yes!’,” Feyre boomed.

“But like…he is so big…”

“That’s your excuse? He is ‘big’?” Nesta challenged.

“But he is! He is like 9 feet tall!”

“Okay, well then, you know he is hung. At least you’ve got that going for you,”

“I don’t want hung,” Elain muttered feebly.

“No, you definitely do want hung. Trust me,” Feyre assured her. “You don’t want a guy like that rocking a decapitated mushroom down there. You pray he is hung.”

Groaning loudly, Elain didn’t answer.

“Pray tell, what does the young gent do for a living?” Nesta asked. “Considering the state of his wardrobe and the fact that he puts his son in Burberry pants, I’d say he is pretty well off.”

“I think he is a photographer,” Elain answered lamely.

“A photographer?!” Feyre was laughing. “I think he is a drug dealer,”

“What does he drive?” Nesta piped in.

“He is not a drug dealer,” Elain snapped. “A Maybach.”

“I am sorry. WHAT? A Maybach??”

“Yeah, I was surprised as well.”

“Where does he live?”

“I don’t know, but they brought cookies from the Cherry Creek Whole Foods and they walk around Wash park, so I guess somewhere around there?”

“Shit,” Feyre whistled again. “The dude is loaded! Forget what I said about the decapitated mushroom for a penis. Even if he has that, that’s okay. At least you can cry about it in your Maybach.”

“You are so gross,” Elain was shaking her head.

“Practical, babe, I am practical. Not gross,” Feyre insisted. “Also, I vote for ‘drug dealer’. Or, or–maybe he is in the mafia?!?! That would be cool!”

“Yeah. So cool.”

“Final question,” Nesta interrupted them.

“Thank the lord,” Elain muttered.

“Does he have a brother?”

“In fact he does. His name is Cass.”

“Feel free to hook me up with this Cass character,” Nesta suggested.

“What happened to Tomas?” Elain asked in confusion, though her older sister wasn’t exactly known for high rates of fidelity. She went from man to man like it was her god-given right.

“Keeping my options open,” Nesta said breezily.

“Well, y’all have fun with your hookups. I am 20,” Feyre announced. “I am going to Barcelona. That’s what I care about.”

“Oh, Ellie,” Nesta cooed. “Make sure to wax everything. Most guys are not into…forestation.”

“I don’t have any forestation!” Elain screamed.

“Good for you, girl. Keep it that way.”

Azriel and Darius Night

When Darius was in the bathtub, it resembled a baby elephant splashing in a kiddie pool. Messy, wet and hilarious.

Azriel was absolutely drenched by now, as he tried to wrestle Darius into the towel and dry him.

“Go potty before bed,” Azriel ordered him, while he went to get Darius’s PJs, which he’d have to lasso onto him the moment his son was off the toilet.

Darius didn’t know how to pee standing up yet, so he sat on the toilet, kicking his legs, pontificating.

“Dada.”

“Yeah,” Azriel returned to the bathroom and pulled off his soaking wet t-shirt, before putting Darius’s pyjama top on him.

“Why you don’t talk to me today, da?”

“What do you mean? Of course I am talking to you,”

“No,” Darius shook his head. “We talk a lot. Today after party, we don’t talk so much.”

Azriel couldn't argue. He was surprised that Darius noticed it, but his boy was correct.

Azriel’s head was filled with something else–namely, Elain Archeron.

That woman took him completely by surprise–it’s not that he even had a type, but he certainly didn’t think that she would be his type. And yet, here he was. He found her blindingly beautiful, but there was more to it than just basic sexual attraction. There was a warmth about her, and something so genuine that she seemed tailor made for him, for his needs and wants. The fact that she seemed to really like his son didn’t hurt either. She was inviting, and had an incredible combination of steely strength and delicate fragility in her, which made the inner Neanderthal in him roar with protective urges, and the man in him wanted to dominate and take her as his. He equally hated and liked that Elain kind of blew him off. That she was innocent was obvious, but she also stood her ground, despite the onslaught of him. Normally, he wasn’t that pushy and mouthy, but fuck if she didn’t make him lose his cool. The need in him for her was rabid. Yet his girl was all ‘nope. You ain’t getting a piece of this any time soon’. And as frustrating as that was, he respected her and her wishes. Though he also very much hoped that she’d change her mind.

“Sorry, Dari,” Azriel helped him into his pyjama pants and then Darius climbed into his bed.

He yawned and admitted, “I tired, dada. This party was fun, but I tired.”

“It was a fun party,” Azriel agreed. “You don’t want me to read you a book?”

Darius shook his head and said, “no, no book today. I wanna sleep.”

He clutched his stuffed bat Brute to his chest–Brute the Bat was Cassian’s present, obviously, because it was totally normal to give babies toy bats–and reached to turn off the light on his nightstand.

Azriel stooped and kissed his son’s forehead.

“Good night then, Dar. Sleep well.”

Just before Azriel exited the bedroom, Darius said quietly,

“Dada, you know I don’t have mama.”

At that, Azriel turned abruptly and stared at the tiny mound under the blanket. Darius had never mentioned not having a mother before. He always just kind of accepted that it was him and his dad. And now, it was he, his dad and his uncle. But he never complained about not having a mother, or even acknowledged the fact.

“You have me,” Azriel said firmly.

“Yes. I know. I love you, da,” Darius nodded calmly. “But if Lain wanna be mama, then I am happy.”

“What?” Azriel murmured, his palms suddenly feeling clammy. This wasn't what he was expecting his son to tell him.

“Yeah, I like Lain,” Darius decided. “She is pretty and nice. And if she wanna be family with me, then this is good and I want it.”

“Okay,” was all Azriel managed. It wasn’t much, but he was literally lost for words.

“If you want to ask her, dada, you do it. I can ask too. And then Isa is gonna be family too.”

“I’ll try, Dari. I promise. But I don’t know…”

Darius yawned again and muttered, “she like me, dada. And she like you too much.”

At that, Azriel gawked at his strange child and asked, feeling both foolish and hopeful, “why do you think so?”

“She wanted to give you hugs and kisses,” Darius told him with utmost confidence.

Azriel chuckled, “nah, big guy, I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, she did,” Darius nodded. “You just don’t know it.”

Sunday.

Monday.

Tuesday.

Wednesday.

On Wednesday, at 5:30pm Azriel perked up, when he saw a woman in shorts and with a ponytail appear near the start of the trail at the pond. She was holding a little girl’s hand too.

But it wasn’t Elain.

And that realisation smacked him in the chest like a ton of bricks.

He wanted it to be Elain.

Thursday.

Friday.

He didn’t have her phone number.

He considered accosting her at the preschool, but he also promised her that he wouldn’t bother her. That the next steps would be up to her. And he wanted to keep his promise. But he was also desperately depressed by now. A whole week passed and Azriel still thought of Elain. Craved Elain. Wanted Elain. Fantasised about Elain. Spoke to Elain in his head. He relieved all the small details of their afternoon together. The jokes. The confessions. The stories. He recalled her sweet blushes and how she got so flustered with his come-ons. He just loved the way that she was–her beautiful golden skin, her freckles which clung stubbornly only to her cute nose, her absolutely lush brown hair and the dark brown eyes the colour of chocolate. Those soft rosy lips that resembled a tulip and her small, scarred hands, with neat square nails, which he dreamt of and wished to feel on his skin. She wore simple leather sandals with her white dress, and she had the prettiest toes, her nails varnished with the same pale pearl colour as is on her hands. He loved everything–he loved her thick lashes, her toes, the birthmark on her neck, the tiny tattoo on her wrist with an ‘I’ and a marigold flower wrapped around the letter, the simple gold chain around her throat, the way her plump breasts created the most tempting cleavage in the cut of her dress.

He imagined what it would be like to wake next to her in the morning–to watch her sleepy and satiated and not on her guard, because she was comfortable with him and trusted him. He imagined her padding barefoot to wake the kids and then he’d make breakfast for everyone and she’d kiss his neck when she finally came to the kitchen, wearing only his t-shirt.

He imagined many things.

Only none would come to pass. Because it was Friday.

And Elain certainly hasn’t been thinking about him.

Until…

This wasn’t his proudest moment, but he’d spent hours searching for Elain’s Instagram page. Who knew that there were like 300 million cooking pages out there? But he was determined to find hers, so he spent hours every evening typing everything from ‘Elain Archeron’ to ‘healthy cooking’ to ‘salad recipe’ to ‘Denver cooking’ and on and on. Nothing. Yes, he’s gotten a 1000 more salad recipes, but no Elain.

That was the frustrating failure on his part, until last night, when something struck him–the marigold flower on her wrist. So he typed ‘Marigold Catering Denver’ and lo and behold, there she was. He found her cooking blog page, and there, a link to her Insta. And then he proceeded to watch videos of her cooking, moving, smiling, dicing, slicing, expertly flipping pancakes and steaks and omelettes and looking luscious and gorgeous in the manner of Nigella Lawson. She had a similar aura–unpretentious, unfussy, attractive, effortlessly trustworthy and watchable. It was a bit of a con, of course–no one was that polished, while looking beguiling, yet adorably inept. It was a front that seduced the audience into thinking that they could also do this–look like a slightly dishevelled model with a messy braid, sumptuous breasts and a tiny waist, preparing healthy, yet delicious looking dishes, while assuring everyone that it was ‘simple and easy’.

The last two videos were recent–one from last week, the other, from Tuesday.

He clicked on the one from last week which was called…The Princess Tea Party. There, Elain was giving the blow-by-blow of how to make a ‘healthy’ afternoon tea. All those cakes and pastries that the toddlers were gorging on were apparently sugarless, mostly gluten free and full of healthy ingredients. Could’ve fooled him!

And then finally, he clicked on the most recent video.

It felt voyeuristic. He was observing something private, which was of course ridiculous, but at the same time, this was the only video where they’d already been acquainted. He already knew her and wanted her. She shot it after he’d touched her and for whatever reason, it felt intimate. He held those small delicate fingers in his hand, and the pearly nail polish was the same as at the tea party.

I made a new friend over the weekend, Elain was saying into the camera. She was smiling, her hair artfully tossed over her shoulder, her voluptuous figure cinched into a silk cobalt-blue blouse with fluttering sleeves. And on her wrist, a silver bracelet. Azriel’s heart jolted in his chest when he saw it–she didn’t take it off and it dangled over her wrist like his own personal brand. She continued saying and he made us this incredible salad! I should’ve been paying more attention to what he was doing and what he put into it, but we were having a good time and there was white wine involved…

A cute, but sexy giggle escaped her pink lips, while she began listing out the ingredients.

He was a miracle worker with this salad. So I hope that I can recreate it and do him justice.

So…maybe she was thinking about him after all?

He watched the video four times, back to back.

He studied every smile, every flirtatious movement of her shoulders, the innocent expression of her big brown doe eyes. He watched her chomp on lettuce, pop tomatoes into her mouth, crunch on a cucumber slice. It was perfect.

“You forgot the radishes, baby,” he whispered in the end. Smiling at last.

“Dada, let’s go already!” Darius demanded, loitering by the door, being super dramatic about waiting for five minutes.

“The park is not going to go anywhere,” Azriel told him, looking at his phone.

Darius pouted and muttered, “you be mean, dada.”

“I am not being mean,” Azriel argued. He wasn’t. But he was in a foul mood.

He couldn’t believe that a week later, Elain didn’t show up, and he was still absolutely desperate for her. He was not a desperate guy. He could probably have most if not all women that he wanted. The problem was that he didn’t want any women. Not until he’d met Elain. For the past year, back in NYC, he hardly even got laid, mostly because he didn’t want to leave Darius with a sitter and because it all just seemed like a tedious production. He couldn't take a woman to his house, not with his baby son there, so it either had to be her place or a hotel, and then it all seemed too complicated somehow, and he just lost interest.

Elain was different though. She already saw him with Darius, she knew who he was and what mattered to him. Nothing with her would be a production. It would be natural and organic.

“Alright, let’s go,” Azriel took Darius’s puffy hand in his and they left the penthouse.

“Is Lain and Isa gonna come?” Darius asked hopefully.

It came harsher than he intended to, but Azriel all but barked ‘no’.

Darius gave him an accusing look, pursing his lips.

In the elevator, he pressed the button and then said, “I think maybe they gonna come, da.”

“I doubt it. They have their own lives, Darius. They are busy.”

“Hmmm,” Darius only offered a doubtful hum and didn’t say anything further.

In the vast lobby of the building, the three concierge guys waved to them.

“Hey Darius!” they greeted him.

He was a popular staple around here, and he immediately veered off and went to the reception desk.

“Hi!” he said. “You have good day?”

“We are having a pretty good day. You going on your daily walk, buddy?”

“Yeah, with dada,” he nodded.

“You want a sticker?” one of them offered.

“Your shoes are cool!” said another.

“When I die and come back in another life, I want to be Darius,” muttered the third.

“Can I have two stickers?” Darius requested.

“Dari, you don't need two,” Azriel scolded him lightly, nodding to the guys in greeting.

“Yeah I need it, dada,” Darius insisted. “If Isa come, I have to give her one.”

“She is not coming,” Azriel said abruptly, but Darius ignored him and extended his hand for the stickers.

“Who is Isa, Dari? Your girlfriend?” the concierge asked, as he gave up two stickers.

“Yeah, she is my good friend,” Darius confirmed, taking the stickers and then politely thanking everyone.

“Whatever you did with this kid, man, you did it right,” one of the guys said to Azriel.

And Azriel smiled. Because if nothing else, he had an amazing son.

It was a decent half a mile walk to the park, so Azriel usually carried Darius, so he didn’t get too tired and could still run in the park. Darius was clutching his two stickers in his hand, loudly contemplating which one he wanted more.

Suddenly, he yelled ‘dada, see! Lain and Isa! Lain! And Isa!’

And then he nearly fell out of Azriel’s arms, startling him to a near heart attack.

“Darius!”

But Darius was running at full speed, waving and yelling ‘Isa! Lain! I come!’

That’s when Azriel saw them.

His girls.

Elain glowed like the sun at dawn, her hair lit up with streaks of bronze and gold. She was wearing a maxi skirt, flat sandals and a form fitting white shirt which reminded Azriel of a corset or something. Whatever it was, it did wonders to her breasts.

Darius and Isabella were hugging like they hadn’t seen each other in months, when it’s only been a few hours since they parted in school.

Azriel approached slowly, taking his time and taking in Elain’s beauty.

At last, he reached her and said, keeping his voice oh-so-casual, “Well, took you long enough.”

She huffed a shy laugh, and he watched her blush prettily under his scrutiny.

“Maybe I missed you,” she said at last.

“Maybe you did.”

“Did you miss me?” she asked softly.

“Desperately,” he confessed heatedly, all teasing and joking leaving his tone.

There was a moment when they stood there, looking at each other. And then Azriel asked, his voice quiet, and somehow broken,

“Why did you come, Elain?”

“You told me to come…” she reminded him breathlessly.

He put his heavy hands on her shoulders and then threaded his fingers behind her neck, keeping her in place.

“What if I didn’t tell you? Would you have come otherwise?”

She licked her lips and murmured in response,

“I’ve been dreaming of you every night since we’ve met. And last night, I dreamt that I was happy. With you. You made me so happy. So I figured, why not try it outside of the dreams? I want to try to be happy with you, Azriel.”

“Okay then. You will come to my home and I will feed you and your daughter.”

She smirked.

“That’s a thing with you. Feeding.”

“What can I say,” he shrugged.

“Also, I missed Darius,” she admitted. “A lot. He is someone who leaves an impression.”

“He certainly does.”

Releasing her neck, Azriel took her hand firmly in his, and tugged her alongside him.

The sun was barely beginning to set and the park was full of joggers, people with their dogs and with their babies, families and couples.

“How do we do this?” Elain asked, her voice timid and uncertain.

“Together,” he answered. “We do it together. I make you fall in love with me and then you are mine.”

She barked a laugh.

“Is that the plan then?”

“That’s it.”

Elain Archeron

The building where Azriel lived was one of the best in Denver. Elain had passed by it a few times before, but it was exclusive and tucked back behind a vast courtyard. She never really paid attention to it, seeing as that she was never going to step foot into it. How wrong she was.

The lobby was huge, with plush couches, a grand piano!, armchairs, two reception desks, lots of glass and steel and wood and artwork. There was even a coffee station that made all kinds of drinks, and Darius demanded ‘I want hot chocolate!’ to which Azriel told him that he’d get it after dinner. Unsurprisingly, Isabella also asked for hot chocolate immediately after.

“Is that Captain Sandy from ‘Below Deck Mediterranean’?” Elain whisper-shouted and Azriel smiled at her and nodded.

“Yeah, she lives here. A bunch of football and basketball players too. From the Broncos and the Nuggets.”

“That’s wild! I’ve never even seen a celebrity,” she confessed.

“You are in the right place to spot them.”

They took the elevator to the top floor, while Darius pressed the button with one finger, and grabbed Elain’s hand with his other hand, holding onto her. Azriel noticed it, but didn’t comment.

To get inside Azriel’s apartment, you needed fobs and codes and passes of all kinds and when they entered, Elain understood why.

It was massive. A glass cube, perched on top of the building, with a wrap around terrace and 365 degree views from every side.

She just stood there, gawking, while Darius grabbed Isa’s hand and said, ‘wanna see my room?’

They disappeared at once, talking loudly, laughing and saying stuff only they understood, while Elain just stood there and took it all in. One side of the apartment overlooked downtown Denver, the other, Wash Park, the third looked out at the mountains in the distance, and the fourth had a sprawling view of the city.

“Are you a drug dealer?” she asked quietly.

At that, Azriel burst out laughing, as he shook his head, and moved towards the incredible kitchen which was far beyond anything seen on HGTV or Insta. This was something else–with expensive appliances, stunning cabinetry, designer lighting, chrome and marble–this was an Architectural Digest kind of a kitchen.

“No. Not a drug dealer. I am a photographer,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, it’s like saying that Martha Stewart is a ‘caterer’. What do you photograph, exactly?”

She did notice really impressive black and white photos scattered strategically on the walls. They were artsy and sharp, some completely abstract, others of cityscapes, and even faceless people.

“I used to be a fashion photographer,” he explained, as he tied an apron around his slim waist. It only emphasised the breadth of her massive shoulders and Elain swallowed discreetly, very taken with the very presence of him. She was reminded yet again of how truly devastatingly handsome he was.

“Like models?” Elain inquired, as she made a slow circle around the vast open space that was the apartment. Azriel watched her, while he washed his hands, before nodding.

“Yes. Editorials for various magazines–Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Marie Claire. It was a fluke really. When I was in the Marines, I liked to take photos of just random things.”

“You are a Marine?” she whirled and looked at him in shock.

“I am. So is my brother Cassian. But we are retired. Anyway, I took some nice photos, and my buddies put on a little exhibition. From there, word spread and the next thing I know, I am being invited to photograph barely dressed girls. It was a strange transition, but I spent about 7 years doing shoots all over the world. Not a bad job.”

“Apparently,” Elain frowned at him, and then asked, “and Darius’s mother? Was she one of the models?”

“She was,” he confirmed, as he began pulling things out of the refrigerator. “You probably know her,”

“She is famous?”

“She is. She goes by The Morrigan. I always told her that the ‘the’ is dumb,” he rolled his eyes, but Elain was gawking at him. The Morrigan was one of the biggest models in the world–even those who didn’t know anything about fashion, knew who she was. She was equally famous for her unruly behaviour, as she was for her bombshell beauty. And Azriel was in a relationship with her.

Elain didn’t respond, but only continued her slow perusal of the apartment. The bedrooms were in the back, and she heard the kids’ voices coming from a corridor.

She didn’t want to think about the fucking Morrigan, or was it the fucking The Morrigan? She wasn’t sure, but she didn't want to imagine Azriel with her. Didn’t want to imagine him with any models, frankly.

Suddenly, while her brain was working in overdrive, conjuring wild images of passionate embraces between Azriel and faceless naked models, Azriel’s muscular arm slipped around her shoulders from behind, and he rested his chin on top of her head, whispering ‘come here’. Elain wrapped her hands over his thick forearm and he kissed her temple.

“Don’t think about them, beautiful. I am not a player like that, and truthfully, that part of my life is over. Seven years was enough. I am not a drug dealer or a coke head. I’ve made a name for myself and a shit ton of money and that’s all that matters.”

“And now?”

“And now, I still photograph, but I specialise in celebs now–their private photos, or their editorials. That’s what pays the bills–the money is very good.”

“I can see that,” she noted dryly and he laughed.

“I like action photography–sports, nature, cities. That’s what I do for myself and for sales. That’s where my heart is at. Not celebrities and their weirdly named babies like Lucky Charms, and Huggie Lovie, or Baby Mr. T, and Antarctica.”

Elain was shaking in his arms with laughter.

“Rich coming from a man who named his son Darius!”

Pretending outrage, he cried out, “Excuse me?! What the hell is wrong with Darius?”

“It’s a hella name for a baby.”

“He is fine. He carries it well.”

“I love Darius, actually,” she admitted.

He said nothing, but only nosed into her head, holding her against his massive chest, the steel bands of his arms wrapped tightly around her chest.

“I am scared, Azriel,” Elain breathed.

“Of what, baby?”

“Of not doing this right. Of losing you before I even got you,”

“You got me, beautiful,” he insisted. “Don't worry.”

“But what if I am just not good enough? You dated The Morrigan,”

“You mean the chick who got pregnant, dumped her newborn with a guy who fucked her a couple of times, and then walked away never to even inquire about her son again? Yeah, she is a real prize!”

Elain chewed on her lower lip, thinking.

When he put it like that…

…”Stay with me,” Azriel murmured, his voice pleading, verging on desperate.

“I have to go home,” Elain argued feebly.

It was just the two of them.

They had dinner, and it felt like a family, the four of them seated around the table, not at the counter, like usual, but a proper table. They ate amazing lobster ravioli, which Azriel had admitted he didn’t make, but got freshly made from his favourite Italian place. He did cook an incredible fresh tomato and light cream sauce, which was truly mouthwatering. Elain had helped him, by making a simple salad, dressed with lemon juice and olive oil–he had the good, expensive Italian stuff, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. The kids drank mineral water and Azriel had opened a bottle of Chablis, which went surprisingly well with the ravioli. He had cloth napkins and nice, white dishes. And as she ate, Elain thought that truly, they were a different kind of pair. They were not…usual. Neither she nor Azriel liked to rush. They enjoyed the nicer things in life. She had less money than he did, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t strive for the best for herself and for her daughter. They liked conversation. They liked involving their children in everything, and they treated them with respect and understanding. There were no phones at the table, nothing to disturb the connection. And not for the first time this week, Elain thought that perhaps she could build something with this strange man. They matched. Maybe too much, which was both a little scary, but also extremely exciting.

“No, you don’t,” he insisted.

His big palms cupped her face and he looked down at her.

“You don’t have to go,” he repeated. “It’s Friday night. There is no school or work tomorrow. I am sure both Isa and Darius would love to have a sleepover.”

Elain’s throat bobbed.

He smelled good. He felt even better. His massive hands felt heavenly on her skin. His eyes were warm and his voice urgent.

“I would say that I’d be a gentleman and not try anything,” he continued, “but that would be a lie. Because all I want is to make love to you. Let me. Let me make love to you and be your first.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” she whispered, her heart beating wildly in her chest and she was considering whether he should call 911, because she might be suffering from some kind of cardiac emergency. Was it normal to be so hot? Was 25 too early for hot flashes? Because that’s how it felt–she was engulfed in heat.

He huffed an indignant huff.

“Come on, we both know that that one time was just to make Isa. He was just a sperm donor, nothing else. The only reason for him to have existed in your life is to make your gorgeous daughter, and she eventually brought us together. You and I, beautiful, were written in the stars. There is no denying it. You know this in your gut. Everything led us here, and it’s up to you to take the bull by the horns.

“It’s all pipes,” he concluded.

“All pipes?” she laughed a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, the universe is working really hard to bring the two of us together. All pipes.”

“What happens after?” she managed to ask, doubt still rearing its ugly head inside of her.

“After? After we live,” he pressed his lips to her brow. “We do our best, the way we always have. Only we do it together.”

“You are relentless.”

“You have no idea.”

She nervously fingered the hem of her shirt and then whispered, “will you stop…if I don’t want it?”

“Well, I am not going to rape you, if that’s what you are asking.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she argued instantly, blushing profusely.

He didn’t answer, but instead, called ‘Darius, Isa! Come here!”

They ran into the room a few minutes later and stopped, watching him expectantly.

“Mama and I wanted to see if you guys wanted to have a sleepover?” Azriel asked, his arm casually draped over Elain’s shoulders. When he said ‘mama and I’ it did something to her–something warm and amazing and needy in her belly.

“Yes!” Darius declared immediately. Then asked, “what this be sleepover?”

Elain attempted to hide her smile, and buried her face in Azriel’s shoulder.

Azriel handled it perfectly, simply explaining, “you and Isa are going to sleep in your room.”

“Oh, that’s fun!” Isa exclaimed.

“Yes, I want it so much!” Darius agreed, bouncing on his toes.

And just like that, it was all decided and settled.

Isa was dressed in Darius’s PJs which were in fact big on her. There was a convertible armchair in Darius’s bedroom, which they made into Isa’s bed, and she was thrilled to be sleeping in a new place.

“I love sleepover!” Darius concluded, as soon as he was in bed and tucked in, Brute the Bat next to him. As any good host he offered Brute to Isa, who politely declined, and instead, opted for a stuffed rabbit.

“Good night you two,” Elain told them and then went to kiss them both.

“Night, ma! You gonna have a sleepover too?” Isa asked.

“I think that I will,” Elain admitted.

“You have fun Lain!” Darius recommended and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’ll take care of her,” Azriel wrapped his arm possessively around Elain’s waist and tugged her to him.

“Dada is nice,” Darius informed Elain seriously. “You can have sleepover with him, Lain.”

The moment the door was closed behind them and they took two steps into the hallway, Azriel turned to face Elain. His face was beautiful, but intense. He watched her without blinking, and then stated, ‘you are nervous'.

“I am,” she confirmed, her voice hoarse and weird.

God, she was sweating again. Her back was dripping with nervous sweat and she felt like she was about to faint.

“Don’t be,” he whispered.

Suddenly, his big hand threaded into her bun and he wrapped her hair around his hand, pulling her face back for a moment and looking down at her from his massive height.

“Tell me to kiss you,” he urged her, his voice even rougher than hers.

She loved the gesture of dominance, him holding her like that, but she also loved that he was asking her so politely.

“Kiss me then,” she said at last and without missing a beat, he crushed his lips to hers.

His was a hungry, needy kiss, the kind Elain always wanted to experience, but never had the chance. The kiss no one ever offered her before.

Azriel’s lips were soft, and there was gentleness about them, about how he enveloped her mouth with his, but at the same time, he took what he wanted from her. Her lips parted for his tongue without any prompting and she leaned into him, momentarily forgetting her nervousness. It didn’t matter somehow–it felt too good. The nearness of him, the hold of his warm hands on her body, the way he clasped the back of her head so he could keep her the way he wanted her–it felt incredible.

“So beautiful,” he whispered into her mouth, holding her close, while she wrapped her arms around his torso, unwilling to let him go. Now, if he wanted to stop this, she probably wouldn’t let him.

“Ahhh, now you want it, my beautiful girl,” he teased, his hot, wet tongue swiping over her lips, her teeth, learning of her and her taste. “But if you want me to stop,”

“Okay, don’t stop,” she panted, kissing him endlessly, feverishly. Azriel barked a laugh at her words and returned to kissing her.

Good god it felt good. So good to be wanted, to be genuinely liked. Under her shirt, Elain’s breasts felt achy, swollen, and her nipples were so hard, they’d probably rip right through her bra. However, she and Azriel haven't even made it to the bedroom yet!

As if reading her mind, Azriel’s hand fell down the small of her back and he grabbed a handful of her ass, squeezing it appreciatively.

“God I can’t wait to be inside of you,” he moaned. “You are so incredibly delicious…Every bit of you is just so fine.”

Half-dragging her next to him, they stumbled down the corridor, ambling towards the bedroom. Thankfully, it was at the end of the hallway, quite removed from Darius’s room.

If she were being entirely honest with herself, Elain didn’t care right now. He could probably fuck her right on the floor here, and she wouldn’t bat an eye. They bumped into walls as they pawed at each other, kissing and biting and licking. He kissed her neck hungirly, tasting her skin, his warm lips gliding up and down, from her clavicle to her jaw. Elain whimpered when he dragged his tongue over the pulsating vein of her neck and he chuckled, “My eager girl,” as he returned to her mouth, kissing her savagely and deeply.

Shouldering the bedroom door he opened it swiftly, and then kicked it back to close it behind them.

He dropped Elain on the bed and then stepped back.

“On your knees, sweetheart. Hands on your lap,” he instructed, and Elain followed his command at once. She could barely even understand what he was telling her, and moved to the sound of his voice instinctively, as opposed to actually listening to his commands. But she liked it–innately, she liked it when he told her what to do and she didn’t know why.

“Beautiful,” he approved, as he stroked her cheek and moved surprisingly slowly towards her, watching her with endless fascination. No one’s ever looked at her like that and saw her. She wasn’t just a pretty girl, or someone he wanted to fuck–she was desirable to him. The emotional connection was unsettling, crossing into intimacy, but perhaps that’s what Elain craved deep down. Her hands were shaking on her lap. But she wanted him to continue looking at her like that. It was a combination of possessiveness, need, curiosity, and some strange protectiveness, as if in the end, he wanted to keep her safe and whole.

“Do you trust me, baby?” he asked, his tone soft.

Elain nodded. She did. Again, instinctively. She trusted him to do right by her–whatever that looked like for the two of them.

With one hand, he pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor without ever taking his eyes off Elain. Seeing his body made her jaw go slack. His muscles were lean and perfectly defined, his skin decorated with tattoos, his arms scarred to the elbow, the V leading into his jeans so prominent, it was almost indecent. Elain’s never seen such definition on any actual human (Olympic athletes notwithstanding).

“Lie down, pretty girl,” he told her and she did, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, other than Azriel’s stunning body and his face, and she was only vaguely aware that his bed was huge and that the city was twinkling with lights somewhere outside the enormous windows. “Spread your legs for me, baby,” he requested and Elain slowly did as she was told, her long silk skirt falling down her thighs and pooling on her stomach. She was barefoot already, having taken her sandals off after dinner, when they played with the kids.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, and sat on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on her belly and quickly unbuttoning the two buttons at the waist. He pulled the skirt off her hips then, and flung it on the floor, where it joined his shirt. Elain could feel herself soaking through her cotton panties–she didn’t have the fancy kind, so she went with her usual plain cotton and lace ones. Now, she was getting so hot and bothered that she felt herself leaking for him. And he saw it. He looked right between her thighs and smiled, running her thumb straight down the centre of her. Elain jerked on the bed, a jittery, pathetic moan escaping her parted lips. Azriel leaned over her, and kissed her again, his tongue gently sweeping inside her mouth, sucking her own, making her delirious with his kisses, while he gingerly worked her panties down her legs.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he murmured, once she was laying half naked in front of him. “So gorgeous and all mine,” he added, lightly, but firmly pushing her thighs further apart, spreading her widely.

“Az,” she groaned loudly,

“Yeah, beautiful?”

“I need more.”

“And you will get more,” he kissed her bare knees, “I just want to look at your pretty pink pussy right now…Remember what I told you I wanted to do to you?”

She licked her lips, feeling exposed, but also so, so sexy, lying like that in front of him. No man’s ever seen her like this, certainly not in such explicit detail, but she liked it. So she opened her thighs even wider, eliciting a muffled groan of appreciation from him.

“Finger me,” she recalled, blushing from the words, which made it real somehow. The words were crude, but her position didn’t bother her–she was tense as fuck, but from arousal, and not fear or discomfort.

“What else?” he pressed, and then carefully pinched her folds and pulled them apart, while she moaned and arched her back for him, grabbing the bed covers violently and wrenching them in her hands.

“You wanted to eat my pussy,” she choked out, closing her eyes and feeling like she was losing her mind.

“Is your pussy sweet?” he asked rhetorically, kissing the inside of her thigh.

“I don’t know,”

“Well, let’s find out, shall we?” With that, he dropped to his knees in front of her by the bed and pulled her roughly forward, pressing her feet into his shoulders. He leaned forward, pushing her legs to her chest, his massive shoulders immobilising her, while he picked up her ass in his large palms and brought her closer to his mouth.

Elain stilled. She really hoped that she wouldn’t have a massive coronary right then and there. This was a man she hardly knew, who was not just staring at her bare pussy, but who was…oh lordy lord…yep, he licked it.

Her pained inhale was so loud, it sounded like a moan.

“Azriel…” she wept. He kissed her. Kissed her slit, the way he kissed her mouth. He kissed her opening. He kissed her folds. He kissed her firmly, deeply over her clit, making her buckle and wail, while he held her down and close to his mouth. He was unperturbed by how she strained against him, but only stroked her legs up from her feet all the way to her upper thighs, as he gently, but insistently sucked on her swollen bud.

“Az, Az,” she whimpered desperately, but he only swirled his tongue around the clit, and sucked on it insistently, his mouth so warm, and so wonderful that it was turning her inside out. He licked and he sucked, steadily, with rhythmic slurping around her dripping slit, caressing her body as he went at it with a blissed out expression on his face.

She hardly dared to look down between her legs, for seeing his hazel eyes watching her and her reactions was almost painfully intimate. But the noises of satisfaction, and his grunts of pleasure told her everything that she needed to know–Azriel was enjoying tasting her just as much as she enjoyed being sucked and licked. It was wet and sensual and she loved it when his tongue swirled inside her hole, but she never ever imagined that this could feel as good as he was making it.

Her legs were shaking, but he kept stroking them soothingly, as if knew that she was experiencing things that she’d never felt before, and she needed extra support from him. But he wasn’t gentle. He bit the wet folds of her pussy with little nips, before clamping his teeth over her clit and holding it hostage, while he licked on it fervently with the flat pad of his tongue. Her toes curled on his shoulders and she tried to hold back the scream that was building inside her chest from the delicious, sublime pleasure-pain that he was offering her so willingly.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod,” she chanted brokenly and he gave her a stern look over her heaving belly, though he didn’t interrupt his sucking of her clit, and shook his head.

“Azriel,” she corrected herself, and he smiled into her pussy, nodding his approval.

Pressing his teeth tighter over her swollen, painfully engorged clit, which felt like it was buzzing from the inside, he slowly eased one finger into her, pushing bluntly inside her hole.

“Oh fuuuuck,” she cried pitifully, because he slipped a second finger, and then a third, in quick succession. It hurt. She was sloppily wet, but she was tight and his long, thick fingers stretched her to a painful point. But a cry of ‘more, more, please,’ tore from her, as she pushed her slit into his face. What if she killed him? Suffocated him with her pussy? But considering how hard his hand was working inside of her, fingering her with brutal, stunning determination, she figured that he was far from death. His hand battered into her, merciless and wonderful, and she moaned loudly and endlessly.

It was too much. All of it was too much.

She should’ve taken him on his offer a week ago and let him finger her in the kitchen. Because this…

This was insane. Astounding.

His hot, harsh-skinned hand snaked up her stomach and he pulled her bra cup down without any preliminaries, baring her aching tit to the cool air. He squeezed it roughly, and Elain loved it–how he was able to hold her whole breast in his hand, and how he pinched her nipple in his fingers. This man was like a damn octopus–he had 40 hands and 20 suction cups in his mouth, because he managed to overstimulate every part of her body.

And the fingering…oh god…the fingering was beyond fantastic. It was beyond anything Elain ever dreamed of. The feeling of that massive penetrating hand, how he pushed the walls of her pussy apart, how he stretched and moulded her over his hand was so pornographically erotic that she’d lost all inhibitions. There were no inhibitions for her to even think about. He’d stripped her down to her core and forced her to let go and enjoy every moment of this.

When he removed his hand from her breast, she whined from the loss, but also watched him unbutton the top two buttons of his jeans, exposing the most delicious-looking trail of hair, which she yearned to lick. She could see the huge bulge in his jeans and the size of him made her feverishly excited, and nervous. She understood why he was fingering her so hard–he needed to prepare her for his massive-looking dick.

“More…” she begged desperately, her body arcing so hard off the bed, she was almost sitting up by now. And then he bit her. He bit her clit hard, and rammed his fingers deeper, which made her lose her mind and she screamed a loud, trembling cry, which filled the space between them. Hot and sweaty and shaking uncontrollably, Elain came and came and came. She orgasmed so hard, her ears popped.

Azriel tore his face from her pussy, giving her clit one parting lick and then she watched him, almost in slow motion, release his cock from his jeans.

The moment of clarity made her gasp and hiss ‘Jesus fuck’ at the sight of him.

That’s what happened when you dated a guy who was over 6”5. He had an ‘over 6”5’ dick.

He looked at her and then cupped her flushed cheek in his hand.

“You want me inside, baby?” he asked hoarsely, and Elain reared upwards and licked his wet face, tasting herself on his skin.

“Yes,” she breathed. “More than anything,”

He gave himself a few hearty rugs, which Elain found mesmerising.

“Funny how this happened,” he chuckled.

“What?”

“Well, I wanted to taste you, finger you and watch you come–and just like that, I’ve accomplished it all!”

Before she could respond, he grunted,

“Take that dick then, beautiful,” hefting her back up on the bed and then propping himself on his hands and knees above her. Elain knew that she looked a mess, with her shirt still on, falling off one shoulder and hastily unbuttoned, her breast bare, her bra askew, but he also looked dishevelled, still wearing his jeans, his thick, perfect cock bobbing at his navel. Yes, his cock was perfect–straight, thick, long, smooth. He propped her legs on his forearms and then slowly, but steadily eased the thick head of his dick inside of her.

The push of his shaft was unwaveringly firm, solid and the thickness of him made Elain’s eyes roll back in her head. She didn’t even know if it was pleasure or pain–some unholy combination of both–but she convulsed wildly around him and the heft of his burning hot dick.

“Laney, my baby, you feel like melted butter,” he smiled at her, while the progression of his shaft continued inside of her. “How does it feel?”

“Please never stop,” she begged, as tears slipped from her eyes. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Because it felt incredibly good? Because he cared about her? Because she was falling in love? She didn’t know, but she was being honest–she never wanted it to stop.

And then he was thrusting into her, deep and hard, his hips steady and powerful, as he filled and emptied her again and again. Elain couldn’t keep her eyes open, and she panted heavily, unconcerned about the crazed sounds that she emitted. She was just feeling him. She felt overstuffed, wet, hot, exhausted, pumped up, desperately horny, and massively overstimulated. Her clit rubbed into that fabulous patch of hair and against his stomach, and with every pump of his hips, Elain rose higher and higher, crying like a madwoman, shaking and thrashing beneath him. His rough hands roamed about her body, feeling her, stroking her, squeezing her, while he pounded into her savagely, building her up with every shove of his dick.

“Azriel, it’s…how…what is…what is this?” she babbled mindlessly.

“That’s your dick, beautiful. Use it and come all over it.” he ordered her, and increased the speed of his thrusts.

“It feels too good,” she whispered weakly. “I can’t…”

“It feels just right,” he insisted, kissing her voraciously, and licking her tongue with impatient swipes of his tongue.

She ran her hands over his tattooed skin, burning with warmth and misted with sweat beneath her palms. And then she was orgasming again, over and over, all around his relentless cock. He watched her from his position, smiling at her and whispering words of encouragement and praise, while she screamed his name into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips. In some feat of astonishing athleticism, he held her up, as she hung onto him like a needy koala, his cock still firmly buried in her, moving rapidly inside.

Elain was so beyond understanding what was going on, she didn’t even comprehend their ridiculous position. But Azriel held her up, as she clenched around him, her ankles wrapped tightly around his back, her mouth starved for his tongue.

“Come for me,” he murmured, “let me have this perfect pussy…”

“It’s yours,” she wept breathlessly.

She was floating somewhere in her head, her body still rocked by the aftershocks of the earth shattering orgasms that he offered her so easily and freely. Her core was stretch to the limit, and yet he still rode her, his arms tense, his powerful body coiled from strain of fucking her and holding her up.

“Let me come in you, my beautiful girl,” he muttered, kissing her head, her face, her lips.

“I want it, Az. It’s yours,” she panted, her pussy pulsing and milking him, “it’s for you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he kissed her and gently laid her back on the mattress, holding her knees apart, as he pumped hard and fast into her.

He came deeply and voluptuously, the hot seed painting her womb, a guttural moan of pure pleasure tearing from his throat.

It felt…magical. Everything about him was raw and hard and passionate, and Elain took all of it. Everything that he gave her.

He tweaked her nipple in his fingers, and then stroked her face with his knuckles, looking down at her with complete adoration.

“You are perfect,” he whispered. “And mine.”

“I think that I am,” she nodded, chasing his fingertips with her lips. He let her kiss them and pushed hard into her, keeping his cock and his cum deep inside of her.

“Do you want to taste me, baby?”

Elain licked her lips, looking him up and down, his stunning torso and his pleasure-tinted expression.

Before she could answer, he pulled her up and said, “open up” as he withdrew his cock from her and then thrust it firmly in her mouth, easing between her lips.

“Good girl,” he approved and patted her head, while she looked at him, trying to acquaint herself with the girth and heaviness of him in her mouth. He was covered in her wetness and his cum, but for some reason, it didn’t bother her.

“Have you ever sucked dick before?” he asked, massaging the back of her neck slowly, wiping her sweaty brow with his knuckles.

She was barely able to move her head, but she shook it ‘no’.

He smiled and ordered, “you’ll suck me off, pretty girl.”

Elain was nervous because she’s never done this before, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t want to. He placed his hand on her head, keeping her in place and his cock nudged forward, sliding in carefully, but firmly. The head of him bumped into the back of her throat and she gasped, but seeing the tremble that her involuntary suck caused, she held onto him, opening wider. His eyes closed and he began slowly, pushing in and out of her wet mouth, allowing her to acclimate to the feel of him. But he was firm as always, holding her head motionless and thrusting slightly deeper with each push.

“That’s my good girl,” he approved. “Take me deeper, sweetheart.”

He gained speed and set a brisk pace, using her for his pleasure, just like she used him before.

She cleaned him completely with her tongue and now just used it to swirl over the head and the underside of his shaft, sucking noisily, breathing through her nose. He gagged her a few times, but she didn’t mind it and he didn’t change his rhythm.

“I want to come in your mouth,” he grunted, his breathing heavier, and his movements becoming jerkier. “Shake your head if you don’t want me to.”

Elain looked up at him with her tear-stained eyes, and didn’t move her head.

“Oh thank god,” he panted, holding her head between his palms and pushing his cock harder into her mouth. “Choke on it,” he muttered, when she did. “You are so beautiful.”

Elain dug her fingers into his iron-hard ass, slipping them beneath his jeans, while he fucked her mouth hard. Maybe she was beautiful to him? By the look of his deeply pleased expression, it seemed like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Swallow everything, baby,” he trembled with exertion and exploded in her throat. Elain swallowed greedily, wanting every drop of him. He was hot and salty and heady, and maybe it was strange, but she found him absolutely delicious.

He came long and hard, and she swallowed everything, stroking his thighs, his hands, watching him. His breathing was shallow, and when he finally took his cock out of her mouth, he dipped down and kissed her.

“You are everything I’ve ever wanted, Ellie,” he admitted, finally pulling his jeans off and sliding next to her on the bed. Elain rolled on her side and watched him, while he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Maybe he was everything that she wanted as well.

…It was later in the night, when she was sleeping in his arms, both of them naked and comfortable, that she wondered if history was about to repeat itself.

Epilogue

9 months later

Azriel opened the door and entered the lounge. It was like the Sleeping Kingdom from Sleeping Beauty.

Darius and Isabella were asleep next to each other on the love seat, a pink blanket draped over them. In an armchair opposite of them, Feyre was curled into a ball, dead to the world, snoring lightly. Finally, on the larger couch, Cassian sat with his head thrown back, his posture relaxed, his legs spread comfortably. Nesta’s head rested on his thigh, which she was using as a pillow. It didn’t escape Azriel that even in their sleep, their hands were clasped and fingers threaded together.

Gone was his brother the Mountain Man. Cassian Night cleaned up his act for his woman.

On the floor, there was an array of toys–dragons, princesses, finger puppets, books and whatever else Cassian chose to entertain his niece and nephew with. He always went overboard and the kids loved it.

Cassian’s eyes fluttered and then opened, as he straightened immediately and peered at Azriel.

“You were supposed to be babysitting,” Azriel chuckled, shaking his head.

“We technically are!”

“Yeah, three adults in the room and everyone is asleep.”

‘I am not asleep. I am just resting my eyes.”

Then, Cassian paused and finally asked, a smile on his face.

“So, what do I owe you, brother? A bottle of Glenfiddich or a bottle of Cristal?”

“Glenfiddich,” Azriel whispered, smiling broadly, his eyes moist with tears. And then he clapped his hands and announced, “we have a boy! My gorgeous stunner of a wife just gave us a son. Our baby Lance was born at 3:14 am. He is 10 lb 4 oz. and 23 inches.”

“A boy?” they heard Nesta’s awed whisper, as she raised her head from Cassian’s lap.

“Congrats to us, Nessie. We are an aunt and an uncle. AGAIN. Which means we are next, Nes!” Cassian announced jovially.

She gave him ‘the look’ and muttered, “Excuse me?”

“Yep. We should have a little girl. We’ll name her Sutton,”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Yeah, Sutton Night.”

“I am not having Sutton!” Nesta protested.

Cassian cupped the back of her head in his enormous hand and planted a hearty kiss on her lips.

“Yeah, you are,” he insisted. “They,” he jerked his shoulder at Azriel, “have three! We have none. It’s time, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but we are not naming her Sutton,”

He kissed her again and said,

“Whatever my lady prefers is fine by me.”

“Let’s go look at that baby,” Nesta decided.

Lance Night was born exactly nine months and a week after the Princess Tea Party where his parents met, and started a new family.

#elriel #elainarcheronweek2023 #elainarcheronweek #princess tea party #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #elain #pro elriel #elain x azriel #Elriel fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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nikethestatue · 1 year

Text

Princess Tea Party

Summary: Single father Azriel Night and his son are invited to a Princess Tea Party where they meet single mother Elain Archeron and her daughter. Will sparks ignite between the two singletons or will their histories catch up with them and stop them in their tracks?

Elain Archeron Week 2023 'Dreamer' @elainarcheronweek

For Dragzilla and Orio, who were my light in the darkness

Chapter One

Azriel Night

“Dada…dad…dada…wake up! Wake up, dada! We have to go! Wake up!”

Azriel Night was already kind of awake, though he lay in bed with his eyes closed and pretended to be deep asleep. His son’s solid, but soft body bumped along his, and he listened to the laboured grunting that his son emitted, as he tried to climb onto the bed. Azriel did not assist him, because his baby boy wouldn’t want him to, but he opened his eye just a little, to watch the struggle. And the struggle was real. The short little legs couldn’t reach the edge of the bed, so the short little arms were grabbing at everything in sight, as his baby was attempting to pull himself up. Azriel moved his arm just a little, and his son grabbed on immediately, not recognising that dad threw him a lifeline.

“You need help, big guy?” Azriel asked at last, to which he immediately received an unequivocal,

“No dad! I do it.”

“Okay…Your tongue is hanging out,” Azriel noted, trying to stifle his laughter.

The baby’s brow furrowed and he asked, “what?”

“Nothing, nothing. Come on, a little more,” he encouraged and somehow, as it always happened, the kid was able to finally climb on the bed. He was panting dramatically with exertion, though that didn’t stop him from immediately demanding, “dada, let’s go!”

“Where are we going to go, Dari?” Azriel asked, stroking the small round head, running his fingers through the silken curls. “It’s seven in the morning.”

“To party!” Darius nodded confidently. “We go today.”

“We will,” Azriel assured him, “but it’s a little early. The party is at 3 o’clock.”

Darius frowned and inquired, “when this be?”

“In a few hours. Meanwhile, do you want to have breakfast?”

“Yeah, I wanna eat,” the baby nodded. “All stuffs.”

Azriel smiled—all stuffs indeed. His barely 3-year-old son looked like he was pushing six. He was big, robust and yet, still full of baby rolls. His fatty arms looked like those of a Michelin Man, and the soft, pinkish cheeks puffed out in a way that absolutely required that they be pinched.

“Dada what we do at party?” Darius asked, his gaze curious. As it stood right now, this would be his first party.

“Have some treats,” Azriel explained. “Fun. Maybe music.”

“Baboons?”

“Don’t know about balloons, but maybe.”

Azriel would’ve wanted for his boy to have had other party experiences, but up until about 4 months ago, life’s been hectic.

He clicked a button on his phone and the shades on his floor-to-ceiling windows slowly rose, revealing a beautiful view of Denver’s Washington Park. Another cloudless day. That was one thing that Azriel loved about his new residence—300 days of sunshine. Blue skies. Cloudless mornings such as this just about every morning.

He’d plunked down about half a million on this penthouse, snatching it right after the pandemic for a steal. Now the place appraised for 1.3 million. He couldn’t complain. It’s the least he could expect, considering that he had to move to Denver. From NYC. Denver. Provincial and unexciting Denver, full of bearded men, flannel, and entirely too many Subarus. But his only living and close relative made Denver his home, so he packed Darius and just…moved. Without looking back. Ripped off the band aid and started a new life. And he couldn’t complain, if he was being honest. Denver’s proven to be kind of nice. It was chill and green, and though unlike his brother Cassian, he wasn’t insanely enamoured with the mountains and the bicycling and skiing and snowboarding, he came to enjoy the slower lifestyle.

They walked around Wash Park every evening, and Darius fed the ducks and chased birds like a savage. Ladies in running gear with calves of steel and 3% body fat gave Azriel and Darius curious and often very needy glances. But Azriel knew that he only looked good ‘on paper’. He might’ve been pretty good looking, tall and athletic, with sleeves of tattoos and the cutest, chonkiest kid in the world, but he was also a single father to just-barely a 3-year-old. No one really wanted a guy with a kid. Because Darius was always going to be his priority, and no woman could ever take precedence in his life over his son. And women needed and wanted attention. Which was fine. He was doing well without them. He was busy creating fun routines and experiences for his son. Their fancy building had three pools, a game room, a bocce court, a ton of grilling spaces, chefs who came to give cooking lessons, and a playground for the kids located on the 30th floor. Darius fucking ate it all up—he loved the pool, he loved all the games, he liked to watch the chefs, because they usually called him to the counter and asked him to ‘help’, which he did eagerly. The kid wasn’t exactly shy. And he adored attention and all the oohing and aahing that came from the audience.

There was a coffee shop where the two of them went on weekends, and a couple of times a month, they had brunch with Cassian. They had their little Italian place where the pasta was handmade and the atmosphere was nice, and they dined there a few times a week.

Azriel knew that Cass was happy with having him and Darius around now. It felt like they were a family again, and that was nice. And even though Azriel was unsure at first whether he’d made the right decision about moving here, he was beginning to realise that perhaps, it was actually for the best.

A week ago Darius started preschool. He only went 3 times a week for 3 hours a day, but even that had Azriel spiralling. He’d never been apart from his boy, so he spent half an hour in the car, after he dropped his baby off, and actually fucking cried. He cried. It wasn’t his proudest moment, but Darius was Azriel’s entire life. His love. So watching his boy walk away just about broke him in half. Thankfully, a little girl skipped towards his son and started saying something animatedly, before taking him by the hand and tugging him along. And Azriel was grateful to the little girl, somehow trusting her to take care of his boy. So, Darius went off with a new friend, and Azriel went back to the car and cried. The second day was a tad easier, because his boy gave him the tightest, warmest hug before he ran inside and whispered ‘love too, dada’. Azriel only cried for 15 minutes afterwards.

…They brushed their teeth and washed their faces together, side by side, and then Azriel brushed Darius’s thick, black curls until they shone.

“We have to shave, dada,” Darius reminded him seriously, standing on his stool, somehow already wet up to his shoulders.

“Yeah, we gotta look good for the party,” Azriel agreed, as he covered his face with shaving cream and then dabbed some on Darius’s chubby cheeks. His son fancied himself to be very old and mature, so he had a wooden ice cream stick, which Azriel told him was his ‘blade’, so he could ‘shave’ with it, which resulted in Darius smearing the shaving cream all over his face with the stick.

“I shave good?”

Azriel dragged his own razor over his cheek, wondering why he was even bothering, since it was the weekend, but whatever.

“You are an ace shaver, bud,” he said. “You’ve got the smoothest cheeks!”

“Uncle Cass have a beard,” Darius announced. Uncle Cass also had long hair and rocked the mountain man look so well, and he got laid multiple times a week. Azriel didn’t have a beard, nor as much game as his brother. His lack of any kind of love life was an endless source of pestering on behalf of Cassian, who constantly volunteered to babysit, so Azriel could get out and hit the clubs. Or bars. Or the gym. Or anything. The idea of it all made Azriel slightly nauseous. He was completely unmotivated to pull anything or anyone, and though he feared that his dick might actually wither and fall off from lack of use, it was not enough motivation to go and get laid by some random girl. He wasn’t boring. He just didn’t want to do it. He was a solitary man by nature, and while his 20s were pretty wild by all accounts, he had no desire to relive any of it.

“Maybe you’ll have a beard one day too.”

Darius nodded and added, ‘like Cass! I want it.’

Azriel dried his soaking wet baby, and then they walked down the corridor to the kitchen.

“What do you want to eat, bud?”

Darius climbed onto his highchair and proposed ‘cookies’, definitely testing the waters.

Azriel chuckled and told him ‘nice try’.

Darius frowned, and then propped his cheek on his hand and demanded, “what then, dada?”

“How about eggs? Or oatmeal?”

“Okay, I eated eggs,” he decided, while Azriel poured him some juice. Settled in, Darius—who, unlike his father, was rather talkative—asked, “so what we do at party, dada? It’s fun? Is Cass gonna come?”

Since Cassian was literally the only other person that Darius knew with any degree of familiarity, Cassian featured quite often in all his questions.

“We’ll see. I am not sure,” Azriel admitted honestly, as he cracked the eggs into a bowl, at which point, Darius demanded, “I do it, dada! Give it.”

Azriel handed him a whisk and the bowl, saying, “Do it carefully, without splattering. And no, Cass isn’t coming.”

“Why no?”

“Because he wasn’t invited. Only you were invited,”

“Oh yeah,” Darius smiled happily. “Only me.”

“And I don’t think that Cass would do good at a Princess Tea Party,” Azriel said thoughtfully.

A Princess Tea Party is in fact where they were invited.

Yesterday, when Azriel came to pick Darius from preschool, Darius ran to him all excited, his shirt askew, his hair messy, waving a piece of paper in his hand. He ran into Azriel’s arms, and gave him a long tight hug, almost suffocating him. Which was totally fine by Azriel.

“I miss you, dada!”

“I missed you too, my boy. Was the school good?”

“Yeah, I love. Here dada, you read it,” Darius handed the paper to him.

Azriel took a surprisingly nice quality paper and unfolded it. It was an invitation.

You Are Cordially Invited

Isabella Archeron’s Princess Tea Party

Dress in your prettiest attire and prepare to enjoy delicious pastries and yummy tea

“Who gave this to you?” Azriel asked, confused by the invitation. Why was Darius invited to a Princess Tea Party?

“Girl!”

“What girl?”

“She is friend,” Darius said confidently. “Isa. She nice. I love it.”

“You like her?” Azriel straightened his son’s shirt, and then took his hand.

“Yeah, she is so good. What this paper, dada?”

“She invited you to a party tomorrow.”

“Ohhhh!” Darius looked at him with a giant happy grin and yelled “we go, dada?!?! We go to party?! I want it so!”

“You’ve never been to a party,” Azriel reminded him reasonably. Darius skipped by his side nodding in agreement, while saying, “but I wanna go.”

“To a Princess Tea party?” Azriel confirmed.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Alright. I suppose we can go. It will be mostly girls, you know,” he warned him.

Darius shrugged and said, “okay. I like girls.”

Darius was too young to have friends, and up until they moved to Denver, there wasn’t even much family to speak of. Now, at last, he had an uncle that he adored, and he was going to school where he was meeting other children and forming some kind of relationships with them. But he also had no prejudices and Azriel would’ve liked to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Elain Archeron

The doorbell rang once, almost immediately followed by a firm knock.

Elain Archeron hurried to the door, with her daughter Isabella skipping excitedly behind her. The rest of the girls were already in the den, giggling and putting on plastic tiaras and costume jewellery.

“Ma, who is it? It’s Dari?” Isa asked, rocking on her feet, her already huge eyes lighting up with happiness.

“I don’t know, let’s see,” Elain smiled and opened the door.

She gasped and immediately stepped back. A veritable giant stood on her porch—a man so tall, he blocked out the sun. He was dressed in all black—black jeans, expensive by the look of them, stylish black boots, a thin black hoodie with the sleeves rolled up and showcasing powerful forearms covered in tattoos and extensive scars. Besides this whole ‘sexy/dangerous/brooding/hot’ package that he was presenting from the very get-go, the man was…breathtakingly beautiful.

Elain stared dumbly at him.

Who was this? And why was he here? And she had six girls in the house. And ohmagod what was she even wearing? And why was she worrying about that? And how was her hair? And was there a smear of icing or powdered sugar on her face? Who was he? Why was he so handsome? He looked like a cross between an Armani model and someone from the set of Sons of Anarchy. Tattoos? She didn’t even like tattoos! Why was she looking at a tattooed man?! Why did his tattoos extend to his neck and why did she want to see them when he was without his black t-shirt? And how can a t-shirt stretch like this over a man’s shoulders anyway? And for the love of god, why was there a Maybach parked in her driveway?!!?

Yes, that was a thing too now. A Maybach in front of her modest craftsman. It looked about as inconspicuous as a peacock in a chicken coop.

“Azriel,” the man said, his voice sexual and quiet.

“Yes.”

Yep, that’s what she went with. Yes. And then, she blurted out,

“I am not Azriel.”

“I would’ve guessed,” he smiled an amused smile that was breathtaking in its beauty.

Elain was literally hyperventilating.

The man’s gorgeous amber eyes regarded her slowly and thoroughly. Very, very thoroughly. He studied every inch of her, taking everything in, calculating and chronicling something in his mind as he looked her over.

What was she wearing?!?! She absolutely could not recall and couldn’t look down to check, because that would just be weird.

“I am Azriel,” he clarified.

“Okay.”

“Are you,” he paused for a second, “Isabella’s mother?”

Elain finally managed to snap out of her stupor and nodded, “I am. Can I help you?”

“We are here for the Princess Tea Party,” he explained, and it sounded as absurd as it looked. Elain attempted to translate what he was saying inside her head.

“Dari!” he called out. “Come here…Oh my god, why did you rip that poor flower?”

The next moment, a most comical looking kid bounded over. He was…big. He was probably half a head taller than Isa, though he looked like a big baby. He was portly in a baby sort of way and had puffy, soft cheeks and a gently rounded body. He was also…beautiful. Lovely colouring, huge dark eyes with thick, long lashes, and perfectly arranged features. Basically, he looked like Azriel. Unlike Azriel, he also looked like an escapee from the set of Peaky Blinders. He was sporting a white shirt, wore a bow tie (no less!), Burberry pants with suspenders, and a chequered flat cap. He was a tiny little English stud muffin from the 1920s. In one hand, he held a flower, which he clearly ripped out of Elain’s flower bed. In another, he held a paper bag from Whole Foods.

The moment was interrupted by Isabella, who yelled ‘Dari! You came to my party!’

It finally dawned on Elain and she gasped, “oh my god. I am so sorry. You are Dari?” she squatted in front of the boy and stroked his shoulder.

“Yeah, I Daris,” he announced and then handed Isabella the flower, while she rushed to give him a hug.

“Dari thank you!” she chirped, taking the flower, which still had the roots attached and was sprinkling soil on the floor.

“This for you, lady,” he then handed the Whole Foods bag to Elain and Isa dragged him by the hand to the den.

Which left Elain in an enviable and highly nerve-racking position of facing the ridiculously handsome Azriel.

“His name is Darius, by the way,” Azriel chuckled. “We are still working on it…him remembering what his name is.”

Elain snorted a laugh, and then choked back a mortified huff. Azriel smiled. He still hadn’t crossed the threshold and she scrambled to invite him in.

“Please. Forgive my manners.”

“We weren’t sure what the proper attire was for a Princess Tea Party, so,” Azriel explained, as he finally stepped inside the house.

“He is the most stylish baby I’ve ever seen,” Elain laughed. “I mean, he is wearing suspenders and a bow tie!”

“Please, if you hold your sanity dear, don’t call him a baby!” Azriel warned with mock horror. “He tells me multiple times a day that he is ‘very big’,” he made air quotes with his fingers.

“May I then say that he is seriously adorable and maybe the handsomest very big boy I’ve ever seen. Suppose he takes after his father,” at that, she laughed nervously, silently berating herself for her stupid big mouth. It’s been five minutes and she is already calling this man ‘handsome’. What was wrong with her? Why was she acting like a complete freak in his company?

Azriel politely ignored her words and dutifully followed her inside the house, taking in her nicely updated craftsman. The kitchen was open to the living room, and from there, they could see the den, where six girls and one boy were currently squealing, laughing and giggling.

She sat the bag that Darius gave her on the counter, and turned only to see Azriel propping himself against the refrigerator, arms crossed on his wide chest, a smile on his full, beautiful lips.

God his lips looked delicious.

And what the hell was wrong with her?

She couldn’t stop herself, before her eyes slid to his hands. Covered in scars, and absolutely massive, she couldn’t help but wonder what his touch would feel like, what the texture of his skin was like. Oh yeah, and no ring.

“I don’t mind calling you ‘Isa’s mom’ if you’d like me to,” he said with a smirk, “but I would like a name to go with the beautiful face.”

Elain stopped abruptly, actually freezing in place at his words. He thought that she was beautiful? He just…said it? He just told her that she was beautiful?

“Elain,” she whispered at last. “Without an E.”

He frowned and clarified, “so Lain?”

“No. Elain, no E at the end.”

“Ahhh, sorry. Nice to meet you, Elain without an E.”

She laughed nervously.

He ate up so much space, her whole house seemed smaller. He was like a demonic presence, only the handsomest and the tallest demonic presence ever. She simply could not stop looking at him. It was physically impossible to avert her eyes. So she forced herself to at least open the bag,

“We weren’t sure what to bring,” he told her, “so we settled on bakery cookies.”

“Oh god, I love bakery cookies,” she moaned. How did he know?! Bakery cookies were her favourite treat. The one thing she always craved and went back for. One of a few things that reminded her of her childhood. The happier days of her childhood.

“Oh, well, then you and Darius can bond over your love for bakery cookies. I didn’t mean to buy so much, but then he had some strong opinions on the subject, so here we are…” he opened his hands apologetically.

Elain laughed.

“Darius has great taste, I’ll give him that. But you shouldn’t have…”

“No, we really should’ve,” Azriel insisted. “Your house is very nice. Homey.” He looked around, and Elain blushed softly. She took great pride in her home, in how she decorated it, in its elegance and it pleased her that he saw it too, even if he probably was just trying to be nice. “We don’t have many friends,” he continued, “we recently moved here, so this is…well, this is the first Denver outing we’ve come to,”

Swallowing hard, Elain decided that minute that she needed to rip off the band aid.

“You and…your wife?” he asked, not looking at him and trying to act nonchalant, as she began arranging the cookies on the platter.

Meanwhile, in the den, the party was in full swing, with all toddlers apparently dancing to ‘Dancing in the Dark’.

Azriel chuckled and commented, “this is quite the eclectic playlist,”

Elain smiled, noticing that he’d avoided the question.

“Springsteen…and ABBA before that. And was it Prince that was playing when we came in?”

“Isa made the playlist. She is an old soul.”

“A beautiful soul,” Azriel said. “She was the one who took Darius under her wing on his first day at school. It…meant a lot to me,” his voice dropped and when Elain glanced at him, she saw vulnerability in his expression. A softness that she didn’t see before.

Smiling, Elain began arranging tiny pasties on a tri-level platter. “Can I confess something?”

“Sure,” he approached the counter and said, “and while you are laying it all out for me, why don’t I help you? All the other moms bailed I am guessing?”

“Oh yeah,” Elain seemingly just realised that the kids were dropped off with her, and the moms indeed all bailed. “I guess they did…You can help by arranging the sandwiches.”

She placed a tray of perfectly neat finger sandwiches in front of him. Azriel washed his hands and then set to work.

“I thought Dari was a girl,” Elain giggled. “I am sorry.”

He chuckled. “It’s alright. I figured. Not often boys get invited to a Princess Tea Party.”

“Isa didn’t tell me,” she glanced at the children, and added, “but it seems like they are getting on very well.”

Darius and Isa were holding hands and dancing together. The other girls were dancing around them, all decked out in fake jewels and tiaras.

“Yeah, he is not allergic to attention or anything,” Azriel agreed with a shake of his head, as he smirked to himself.

“Oh, I should’ve asked if there is something Darius doesn’t like,” Elain worried. “Is he allergic to anything?”

“Does he look like he doesn’t like something?” Azriel raised a brow at her and she snorted a laugh. “He eats everything. But only normal, grown-up food. None of that chicken nugget shit or fries. I like for him not to develop any bad habits,”

“I am the same with Isa! We’ve never been to a fast-food restaurant!” Elain exclaimed, surprised that they seemed to share the same philosophy about their children.

“Does this look okay?” Azriel asked, pointing at the neat row of sandwiches.

It was surprisingly easy being with him. Despite his intimidating gorgeousness, Elain didn’t feel any tension, other than her own instant and debilitating attraction to him. But she figured that he was used to attention—99.9% of world’s female population were probably attracted to him. Yet he was capable, fast, and absolutely adept at being in the kitchen. Efficient. Also, he smelled so enticingly, she needed to hold herself back and not try to sniff him and appear like she’d completely lost her mind. But she did. She’d never been attracted to anyone like this. It was instant and so powerful that it actually concerned her. It surely wasn’t healthy that she fought the urge to run her hands over his strong forearms, or that she wanted to press her lips to his beautiful neck. Or rub her cheek against his. Or do other things which she didn’t dare think about now.

He was the type of aggressively masculine handsome male, with an aura of danger and rebellion about him that most women dreamt of. When they were married to their quiet, slightly paunchy, slightly balding account manager or operations supervisor husbands, they dreamt that a man like Azriel would suddenly appear, fall madly in love with them and sweep them off their feet. So it was surreal to watch him arrange finger sandwiches in her kitchen.

“Perfect! There is iced tea in the fridge, if you can get it,” she requested. “And fill the teapot.”

“This really is a perfect little tea party,” he complimented her, as he followed her orders.

Everything was finally ready, and Elain set all the platters and the teapot, a bowl with cubed sugar, another with jam and clotted cream for the scones, on a large tray and Azriel stepped forward and said, ‘allow me’. For that, she was grateful, because the tray was heavy and laden with food, and she whispered ‘thank you’ as Azriel picked the whole thing up easily.

“The tea is served!” she announced, “take your seats!”

The seven hyper toddlers gathered around the low coffee table and squeaked with excitement when Azriel arrived with the treats. He and Elain placed everything on the table, and then poured everyone their tea.

Darius was bouncing in his seat, clapping his chubby hands together, his tongue hanging out like usual when he was excited.

“Hey big guy,” Azriel bent and kissed his son’s head. “Are you having a good time?”

“Dada! I love it so much,” Darius roared with sheer ecstatic delight. “This party is so good!”

“You treating the girls nicely? You are being a gentleman?”

Nodding his consent aggressively, Darius said, “I be nice and good. I like dance and it’s fun.”

Meanwhile, Elain was instructing in the correct way of partaking in the tea, and everyone listened with rapt attention.

“Sandwiches first. Scones next,” she said. “There is jam and cream, if you’d like. Finally, pastries and cookies. Everyone behave like proper ladies and a gentleman, alright?”

Darius immediately reached for the scone, but Azriel stooped next to him and wrapped his arm around his son’s body and whispered quietly into his ear, ‘Dari, remember how Elain said to start with the sandwiches? You should do that,”

“Dada, I don’t want sandwich!” Darius pouted. “I want cake.” He mistook the scone for cake, and already held a spoon heaping with clotted cream. He was clearly liking being independent and making his own decisions.

“I think you should start with the yummy sandwiches,” Azriel proposed. “There is delicious chicken salad in this one, and egg salad in this…and I think it would make Elain very happy if you tried them first,”

Darius looked up at Elain, who was watching his dad closely, and nodded, “oh, okay. Lain, you want me to eat sandwich?”

She smiled and nodded, “I would love for you to try my sandwiches, Dari.”

“Okay, I eat it then.”

Azriel took one of the linen napkins and tied it around Darius’s neck.

“Dada, I don’t want bip! Why I have to have it?!” his son protested and Elain couldn’t help but smile at his indignation.

Azriel immediately said, “oh, it’s not a bib, Dar. It’s a napkin—it’s a must for High Tea!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Elain helped out and stated, “Absolutely. You ought to wear a napkin for tea.”

That seemed to placate him, and he left the napkin in place.

Azriel mouthed ‘thank you’ to her and she gave him a nod of understanding.

The way Azriel was with his baby boy was incredible. It’s not just Elain watching an attractive man with a baby that was making her ovaries explode. It’s how Azriel made Darius feel—heard. Azriel didn’t order. He wasn’t impatient or annoyed. He was kind and loving and Elain was awed by their relationship. In just about one sentence, Azriel could convince Darius of what he wanted him to do without any pressure or anger, and Darius was pretty happy to do it.

What Elain didn’t expect was what happened next. Azriel kissed the top of Darius’s head, leaving the kids to their own devices, straightened, and suddenly, extended his hand to Elain. She just stood there, not sure of what she was supposed to do, but then he stepped towards her and took her by the hand, tugging her gently alongside him. Elain followed.

His hand was massive. It was rough with scars, the palm easily covering the entirety of her hand, the fingers long and strong.

“I know the other parents dumped the kids on you,” he said, his voice low, as they returned to the kitchen. “And fucked right out of here,”

At that Elain laughed. Azriel cursing was kind of…funny.

“But,” he moistened his lips, as if he was nervous for some reason. “Do you mind if I stay here? For the duration?”

He looked almost unsure of himself, which was in great contrast to how he generally came off.

Elain didn’t even know how to answer. She wanted to shout ‘yes, OF COURSE YOU CAN STAY!!!’ but she settled for a more reasonable, “of course.”

He pursed his lips for a moment and then sat down on the bar stool by the counter, and awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.

“I…” he sighed. “I feel like I should explain,”

“No, you don’t have to.”

But he proceeded to tell her, “I’ve never been apart from Darius.”

Elain blinked and exhaled a soft ‘oh’.

He continued, “To answer your earlier question, no, I don’t have a wife and he doesn’t have a mother. It’s just me and him. Always been. Therefore, I am the definition of what you would call a ‘helicopter father’. I’ve never been without him since he was born, and I can’t…” he swallowed. Hard. His voice was dry. “Darius is my life. I had a nervous breakdown earlier this week, when I sent him to school. I sat in the car for the three hours that he was there, because I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I don’t know why I am telling you this. You probably think that I am mental,”

“No,” Elain said firmly, reaching for him and placing her hand on his. “No. I don’t think that at all. And I am not just saying that either to placate you.”

He glanced at her, his gorgeous hazel-amber eyes shining with an untold emotion. But it was his hand beneath her that made her own breath quicken. He lightly drew his thumb back and forth over hers, touching her lightly.

Now it was her turn to swallow.

But she managed to say, “Love is complicated. People don’t seem to understand how complicated parental love is sometimes. Especially when you don’t have anyone else to share it with and it’s all on you. To be the sole provider of all the love and support and kindness to your child,”

“I guess there is no Mr. Elain Without an E at the End then,” Azriel huffed under his breath.

The comment made her blush, but she nodded curtly.

“There isn’t.”

He exhaled what could be described as a relieved sigh.

“You are pleased?” She challenged him.

He hummed to himself and said at last, “it’s not that I am pleased, per se. But I don’t hate the idea of you being single.”

Now breathless, Elain whispered, “why?”

There was a long pause.

The silence was interrupted by the exclamations, giggles and conversations taking place in the den. Sinatra was singing ‘Fly Me to the Moon’. The house smelled of pasty and lemons.

“Because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he said at last, his eyes boring into hers. There was no pretence in his expression. No falseness.

“We’ve just met,” she mumbled, her heart beating so hard, she was sure that he could probably see it. “You can’t say such things to me.”

“Why not?” his gargantuan hand migrated from underneath hers on top of her palm, and he lightly stroked her pulse, and then her wrist with his fingers. “You are. Exceptionally beautiful. You aren’t what I expected to meet when I came here for the Princess Tea Party. Your lovely, kind daughter isn’t what I expected either. You are both kind and welcoming and funny.

“I’ve wasted a lot of fucking time, Elain. So much time spent on the wrong relationships, on women who didn’t deserve my attention, on people and things that brought me nothing in return, but took up a lot of space in my head and sucked out a lot of my energy.

“And then I got Darius and I realised that life’s too short for half-truths and waiting. So I am direct. You might not like that and I get it. But I am what I am. And if I think that you are beautiful, then you are.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say. She was considered beautiful, it wasn’t exactly news, but she hasn’t been called that before. Not to her face, not by a man such as Azriel. Older people waxed poetic about her ‘pre-Raphaelite’ features. Her golden hair. Her expressive eyes. Her strawberry-and-cream complexion. However, modern men didn’t appreciate the delicacy of her features. They wanted the overly-done, spackled Instagram ‘influencers’. And Elain wasn’t that. Though she was an Instagram influencer.

“And you being single,” he continued, “opens up a world of possibilities for me.”

“What sort of possibilities?” she murmured, her heart pounding in her chest. Was he for real? Did he really find her…attractive? Desirable? It wasn't impossible, but it was so bizarre that she couldn’t really wrap her mind around the fact. Simply because Elain was never desired by anyone before.

He drummed his fingers on the counter and searched for some truth in her face, for something that only he was privy to. Naturally he avoided her question, like he did the marriage question before and she had a feeling that he’d answer it in due time.

“Do you want to eat?” he asked suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“Eat. Do you want to eat something? While our kids are gorging themselves on pastries, do you want to eat something more grownup? I can make us something,” he offered.

This was the most confusing man Elain’s ever met. He got up and went to the refrigerator, acting like he’s been here a million times before.

“What do you feel like?” he asked without looking at her. Then he turned around and said, “let me guess…” he seized her up, while she crossed her arms on her chest and stared down at him.

“I think…” he tsked, still considering something in his head, “I think you look like a girl who’d like a nice big salad with everything.”

Elain’s mouth popped open into a surprised ‘O’.

“How,” she began saying, but he cut in,

“How did I know that you’d like a nice salad? I have a gift, lovely Elain. I see things. Things that others miss,”

“What do you do?” she demanded, now worried that he was some unsavoury character who was trying to fleece her for information, though it was preposterous. He was driving a Maybach! What did she have that he could possibly want or need?

Meanwhile, Azriel began pulling out lettuces, herbs, a red pepper, jalapenos, scallions and olives from the fridge.

“I mean, are you going to tell me that I am wrong?” he teased, as he piled the greens on the counter, “you have four varieties of lettuce, you have a daikon radish, you have two…no, three bags of various kale, what the hell is that? Spirulina?! Who has spirulina powder?!”

“I have spirulina!” she almost shouted, but he was laughing.

“Oh, chill, beautiful, I love the variety!” He then grabbed tomatoes, a jar of hearts of palm, and a bag of shelled edamame from the freezer, as well as a bunch of radishes. “I mean daikon? Seriously?!”

“I love daikon!” she exclaimed.

“Clearly…”

Still pouting at his humorous critique, she nevertheless got up and went to the walk-in pantry, before returning a minute later with a large platter.

And all the while, she’s been thinking about how he called her ‘beautiful’. Like it was the most natural thing for him to say. Like he actually thought that and meant it.

“Do you always come to strangers’ homes and start cooking for them?” she inquired tartly, though she definitely didn’t mind watching him take his hoodie off and expose his monstrously gorgeous physique to her in his form-fitting black t-shirt.

“No,” he said simply, as he lined a cucumber on the cutting board and diced it like a professional chef–fast, with precise, perfect movements, which produced perfectly uniform cubes of cucumber. “But then you aren’t a stranger. And I don’t want to be a stranger to you.” He looked up from the cutting board and his luminous eyes bored into hers. “And I think it’s quite normal for a man to want to feed his woman,”

His woman?!?!

Internally screaming, Elain was now panting like a golden retriever. She had no words. Just emotions.

His woman.

His. Woman.

What?

How did she become his woman?

Oh, and the bastard knew that he was completely throwing her, judging by his indecently sexy smirk, as he began on the radishes, but he played it so cool…just so cool, and continued as if he didn’t just say something totally outrageous.

“You know, we’ve been killing mammoths back in the day,”

“Of course, and you remember, huh?” she finally managed to ask.

“I remember that it’s my pleasure and honour to provide you with a little sustenance. Why the veg though?” Now he was curious.

Elain, discombobulated emotionally and psychologically, needed a moment to gather herself and her thoughts. He was giving her the biggest whiplash of her life.

He went from stroking her hand, to calling her ‘beautiful’ as an endearment, to telling her she was his woman, to now raiding her fridge and making them a salad all in a span of less than 20 minutes.

This was more excitement than she’d experienced in the past 3 years!

She looked down, her hands cupped on her lap. She finally recalled what she was wearing–a pretty white boho dress with some white embroidery and a generously revealing neckline. Okay, she didn’t know that he would storm into her life and turn it upside down when she was dressing for the tea party. But it also didn’t escape her entirely that he admired her dress and perhaps some other things more than once.

“I was an overweight child–which in my mother’s eyes was the greatest sin imaginable–while my two sisters were willow thin. Up until I was about fifteen, my relationship with food was messy, mostly because of the fat shaming that my mother subjected me to,”

Azriel did not pause his slicing and dicing, but his brow was deeply furrowed with a grim expression. He didn’t comment though. And Elain didn't know why she was telling him these personal, painful things.

“Anyway,” she shrugged it off, and concluded, “I decided that I wanted to change my attitude towards food. I no longer wanted to punish or reward myself with it. I simply wanted to eat and be healthy. And I discovered that I loved vegetables. Changing how I ate, how I thought, how I viewed myself gave me a new outlook on life–vegetables, fruits, sunshine, walks, gardening–it gave me energy, strength, and a better attitude.

“And when I had my daughter, I swore that I’d instil her with confidence and a much brighter and healthier relationship with food.”

Azriel dumped the first batch of sliced and chopped veggies into the bowl, and began on the rest of the ingredients. The salad was already looking mouthwatering.

“The veggies paid off,” he said at last, looking at her. “You are stunning.”

At that, Elain gasped and he smiled at her.

“Please don’t bother protesting,” he ordered.

She slapped her hands on the counter, and then announced sternly, “Okay, I can’t take anymore compliments!”

Azriel barked a loud and amused laugh.

“You’ve reached your compliments quota, beautiful?”

“Tell me about Darius,” she demanded, ignoring the ‘beautiful’ quip.

“Darius? What do you want to know? He is not exactly very complicated,” Azriel chuckled.

Elain insisted though. “No. I want to know about you and Darius. What happened to his mother? Where is she? Tell me.”

Azriel hummed and Elain wondered if she’d pushed him too far. She really had no right to ask him personal questions. He’d asked her about vegetables and she then suddenly developed verbal and emotional diarrhoea. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. But she didn’t have to ask him about his kid.

“Where she is,” he suddenly answered, “I have no idea.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, remembering something and then said,

“Honestly, when I said that Darius is my son, I meant it. He is mine. He is my baby, my friend, my son. It’s me and him. There is no mother,”

“Oh, was he born via a surrogate?” it dawned on Elain that that might have been the case, but Azriel shook his head and huffed a bitter sort of snort.

“No. Not at all. His mother is a famous model–now more known with her erratic behaviour and alcohol binges than her career–but when I knew her, she was in her prime. We had a very, and I mean, very fleeting relationship,”

He began salting the salad, squeezing lemon all over, swishing a healthy helping of olive oil on top and then began tossing it with two spoons.

“I don’t know…I hardly even remember hooking up with her,” he admitted and that made Elain squirm in her seat a bit. Azriel talking so openly about his sex life was unsettling. It also made something pinch inside her chest. Something unpleasant and sharp.

Jealousy.

She had no right to be jealous, and it was an irrational feeling towards a man she just met, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I dunno,” he leaned on his elbows and propped his cheek, thinking. “Like I said, there isn’t much to say. One day–it was Wednesday, I remember that very well–my doorbell rang. I went to open it, and there she stood, with a tiny bundle in her arms. It was late April, but fucking cold outside, and all I saw was this tiny bare foot that poked out of the blanket. And then a bare arm. And I was horrified that this kid wasn’t dressed for the weather.”

There was a touch of anger in his voice, but he pushed it down and then said,

“She literally handed me this bundle with a child in it and said that it was mine and he was three days old. She apparently came straight from the hospital? I am not sure why he wasn’t dressed better, but whatever. She told me that she couldn’t take care of ‘it’--she kept calling him ‘it’--and then she simply turned around and walked away. Oh, and she handed me his birth certificate. He was nameless too.

“That was a weird Wednesday,” he chuckled dryly.

Elain stared at him, horrified. This was the most insane story, considering that he and this mysterious model weren’t even in a relationship.

“And? Then what?” she whispered, her hand covering her mouth.

“And then what?” Azriel’s massive shoulders moved in another shrug, and then he straightened and expelled a heavy sight. “What do you think? Got a bit of a mental walloping. That’s some mindfuck, when someone suddenly hands you a baby! And says good luck. I didn’t even know the sex! I had no diapers, no formula, no clothes, no place for him to sleep–ah, I finally discovered that he was a he–no wipes, and oh, no freakin’ name! And I didn’t actually know that he was in fact mine. Plates?”

“What?”

“Where are the plates? It’s time to eat,”

She pointed to a cupboard, but also snapped, “you can’t just leave me hanging here! Tell me the rest of the story! Come on,”

He seemed entertained by her demands, and said, “well, if I tell you my story, you tell me yours too.”

“Fine! Not much to tell,” she muttered.

He looked at her, brow raised in a dare, and said, “you are absolutely telling me the story. And why someone like you isn’t taken. You legit have the perfect little house, with white trim and shutters, this perfect kitchen, perfect floors, and a white picket fence. Where is Mr. Perfect then? Not to mention that you have the most perfect beauty of a daughter!”

Elain smiled shyly and looked out to the den. From this angle, she could see Isa–her sweet, actually perfect little girl. Isa, with her pretty ringlets and her gorgeous soulful eyes, was someone who had the biggest heart and truly was one of the best people she knew. It wasn’t because Isa was her daughter–some kids were assholes and their age didn’t prevent them from being that. But Isa was curious and smart, giving and friendly. Even without asking, Elain knew that Isa took it upon herself to befriend little Darius, and made him feel welcome in their school. Darius seemed like someone who could stand up for himself–his size alone would probably intimidate any bratty kid–but he was also young and innocent, and truly was still more of a baby than a child. He didn’t even know how to speak properly yet. And Elain figured that Isa wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.

“How did you get on with raising him?” she inquired at last.

Azriel meanwhile piled a good amount of salad onto a plate, and then speared his fork through it. Elain was a little surprised, and yes, miffed, that he didn’t give her any, but then she shouldn’t have expected him to serve her. He already cooked! That was enough.

Azriel stepped closer to her, but didn’t sit down, and towered over her, as he thrust the fork towards her mouth and whispered, “open up”.

Bewildered by the request, Elain just stared at him, completely confused.

“Come on,” he prompted her, pushing the salad against her slightly parted lips. She opened up and he pushed the salad inside, and smiled, watching her chew.

“What are you doing?” she asked at last, once she swallowed. This salad was freakin’ amazing! It was delicious. Perfectly dressed, with a delectable combination of textures and flavours.

“Feeding you,” he said simply and then took a bite of the salad himself, from the same plate, not changing forks or anything.

“Why?” she asked, feeling hot and bothered, and…sexual. Why was she so bothered by him? He was not the first man she’d ever come in contact with, but even despite his blatantly indescribable attractiveness this felt different somehow. It felt like a possibility. And Elain wasn't sure what to make of it. What exactly was she hoping for here? “I can feed myself, you know,” she added tersely.

“I am aware,” his tone was the same–calm and reasonable–”but I like the idea of feeding my woman.”

With that, he fed her another mouthful of salad, and she barely avoided choking on it.

“Your woman?” she repeated, her cheeks heating, her hands trembling on her lap. “Since when exactly did I become your woman?”

“You haven’t yet,” he answered patiently. “But I am hoping that that’s where this is leading. For now, though, you will be my good girl and let me feed you. Now, open up,”

The words ‘good girl’ scrambled Elain’s insides into an absolute frenzy–there was fluttering, squeezing, palpitations, achy feels between her legs, and all sorts of engorgements…in various parts of her body. And the bastard knew and saw it all, judging by the satisfied, salacious smirk on his disgustingly perfect lips.

This was either the worst or the best Princess Tea Party in history. Elain wasn’t sure which one it was. She also didn’t know what to do with this man. Was he everything that she’d ever dreamed of and hoped for? Probably. But now, faced with an actual man of her dreams, she was stumped. She wished that her sister Nesta was here to help out and try to figure this out, and what her next steps should be, but she was all alone facing this sublime beast of a male.

But, no…

Azriel leaned back on his forearms on the counter, eating lazily, and feeding her, though he still towered over her, even in this position. There was something dominating about his stance, but Elain didn’t find it in herself to care. He also didn’t seem to expect an answer from her–he simply fed them both, and then went back to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of Pinot Grigio and poured them both a glass.

“Dada! Dada!” they heard the familiar call, and the next moment, Darius sprinted into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and jam, his black curls kind of wild atop of his round head.

He stopped and then extended his chunky hands, a small cake in each palm.

“Dada, I bringed cakes for you,” he explained. “And Lain too. You eat it,” he nudged them, and then dropped the cakes into their outstretched hands.

“Aww thanks big guy,” Azriel said softly, “you are the best boy.”

“Yeah,” Darius accepted the praise easily and didn’t argue. He was the best boy.

He stood on his toes and tried to see what the adults were eating.

“What you eat, dada?” he demanded.

“Salad,” Azriel said, and then offered, “you want some?”

Darius made a face and shook his head no.

“No, dada, no salad,” he frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“I figured,” Azriel chuckled and then fed some more to Elain. Darius observed them both, his head cocked to the side, watching.

“Lain, you love salad?”

“I do. Your dada made a very very delicious salad for us,” Elain said, while Azriel stepped closer to her and she was just about overwhelmed by the scent of masculine pheromones in the air. He smelled of cedar, sharp and crisp, and there was something so attractive about the scent of his skin that she fought the urge to moan out loud. It absolutely didn’t help that Azriel’s finger lightly skimmed over the side of her neck. Leisurely and with strange familiarity, as if he’d done this a million times before with her.

“Yeah, dada always make good stuffs,” Darius agreed, and Elain held herself together by a thin thread, trying not to alarm a toddler while she was mentally lusting over his father.

“How’s it going with you guys there?” Azriel asked.

“Is good!” Darius reported enthusiastically. “We eated all cakes and stuffs, I want milk and we gonna watch a movie.”

“Ahhh…got it. Can you ask Elain nicely for milk? And may I wash your face?”

“Oh, sorry Lain. Can I have milk please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she got up and poured him a glass of milk, while Azriel grabbed him under his arm and dangled him over the sink.

“I flied!” Darius yelled, spreading his arms, while Azriel tried to stifle a laugh at his antics, and Elain filled her palm with water and began washing Darius’s sticky face.

“Thank you,” Azriel whispered, while Darius attempted to thrust his arms under the faucet.

“Why are you so jacked up? No more sugar for you,” he warned his son. “Quiet time with the movie.”

“Yeah, I want movie,” Darius agreed. “Do plane, dada!”

Azriel sighed, while Elain laughed at the two of them and chased Darius’s face with a paper towel to wipe him clean and dry. Then Azriel lifted Darius with one arm all the way above his head, and Darius screeched loudly with excitement, as he flapped his arms.

All this commotion called the rest of the children to the kitchen, and Isa watched ‘the plane’ enviously, before saying, “I want this too!”

Azriel put Darius down and said, “Alright. I’ll give everyone a plane ride, while we get the movie going.”

“They can watch ‘Cinderella’ or ‘Snow White’,” Elain told him, while he lifted Isa high above his head and she yelled and hooted with delight screaming ‘mama, look at me!’ Everyone headed back to the den, and Elain watched Azriel with her daughter and it did something to her. Despite his size and his somewhat menacing appearance, Azriel was such a gentle man. He was incredibly thoughtful and good with children, and they seemed to trust him instantly. But there was something wild and untamed about him as well. Like he’d never been in the company of a female who domesticated him a bit.

“Lain,” Darius tugged on her skirt, and she looked down, and stroked her fingers through his hair. “Do you want hug?” he offered. “I give good hug. Dada say and Cass too.”

She grinned and nodded, “Yes, Dari, I’d love a good hug from you.”

“Oh good!” he opened his arms and she squatted, and he immediately threw his fatty arms around her neck. She wrapped him in her embrace and sat down, with him straddling her.

“Who is Cass?” she asked, gently rubbing his back, as he tucked into her body and pressed his face between her breasts.

“Cass is uncle,” he said, and then exhaled deeply, settling in for a hug.

Elain rocked him slowly on her lap, enjoying his (substantial) weight and his solid sturdiness. He was so much denser than Isa, yet she loved that he was still a baby. Elain loved babies and once in her life imagined that she’d have a large family–four, maybe five, children–a husband who’d love her and whom she’d adore. But none of it happened. Nothing’s happened the way she planned.

She pressed her cheek to Darius’s head and hugged him a little tighter. For some reason, her own failures made her sad. She was a lifegiver by nature–she loved children, baking, gardening, she loved watching things grow: flowers, plants, herbs and even bread. She loved to experience the mystery of creation, loved watching things blossom and grow and come to life. Even despite all the challenges, she loved her pregnancy, loved giving birth to Isabella and nurturing her every day of her life.

“Dari, what does your dad do?” Elain asked.

Darius thought for a moment and then said, “Dada make pictures.”

‘He makes pictures?” she repeated, a little uncertain about what he meant. “Like an artist?”

“I dunno,” Darius admitted with a sigh.

“No,” they heard Azriel’s voice. “I am a photographer.”

Elain looked up, lifting her cheek from Darius’s head and saw Azriel standing in the doorway, his arms folded on his chest. But it was his gaze that jolted her. His eyes were hungry. Ravenous. Like he was looking at his next meal. Elain froze under that gaze: the way his hazel eyes devoured her. Devoured her with his son in her lap.

“Well, I stepped away for ten minutes and he certainly found a way to make himself very comfortable.”

Darius didn’t even turn his head, firmly attached to every curve of Elain’s body.

“He wanted to give me a hug,” Elain explained.

“I bet he did,” Azriel chuckled. “I’d like to give you a hug too…”

He winked at her and Elain blushed as usual, because she did that a lot with him. Seemed to her that the kind of hugs Azriel wanted from her involved a lot less clothing and a lot more…hugging. Though she couldn’t say that she hadn't imagined how those huge scarred hands would feel on her naked skin–about a dozen times now.

“You wanna give Lain hug, dada?”

“I would. Run and watch the movie with the girls, big guy. It just started.”

“But I wanna be with Lain,” Darius protested, pouting. Then he finally tore his head away from her chest and looked up at her, “Lain, you wanna be with me?”

She stroked his soft fluffy cheek and kissed his little hand,

“I do, Dari. I like you very much, sweet boy.”

“Yeah? I like too, Lain. You and Isa. I like a lot.”

Then he finally climbed off her lap and rushed back to the den.

Azriel watched him, and then his eyes transferred back to Elain. He rubbed his chin and drew his thumb over his lower lip.

“Forgive him. He has no experience with women at all.”

“I understand. And it’s no problem. I already adore him,” she admitted. “And I want to give him hugs and kisses. He is too cute.”

“He is cute,” Azriel agreed. “My heart. Life of my life.”

Azriel moved smoothly, walking to the electric kettle and turning it on. Then he took out a couple of tea cups and set them on the counter.

“I have a few questions,” he said, busying himself with tea. His voice was firm, with a touch of demand in it. “And I’d like for you to answer them truthfully.”

“O-kay,” Elain allowed, squeezing her laced fingers together.

Azriel poured hot water over the loose tea leaves in a pretty English teapot and brought it to the counter. He sat down and stretched his long, muscular legs before him, relaxing into the back of the chair.

“Relax,” he told her.

“I haven’t been relaxed since you stepped into my house,” she blurted out.

“Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?” He looked serious, and a bit tense now.

She shook her head, “no. Not uncomfortable.”

“What then?”

“Confused.”

He didn’t respond and then poured them both tea, once it steeped long enough.

“You know how to make tea,” she commented, sort of puzzled by that. How would a man like this know how to make a proper cup of tea?

“Lived in London for almost four years,” he explained. “Learned there.”

Well, that explained it.

“Why are you confused?” he pushed.

“You are confounding,” Elain sipped her tea, trying to find something to do with her hands and being grateful for the cup.

“In what way?”

“Your manner…the way you seem to dominate the space around you. The way you are with me.”

“How am I with you?” he pressed, drumming his fingers slowly on the white quartz, his eyes never leaving her face.

“I am not sure. But unlike any man before. You are forward and challenging. But also thrilling. And I don’t know how to deal with you. I…I am not,” she sipped again, now burning her mouth, but terrified of admitting her truths to him.

“You’ve been dealing with me very well up to now,” he argued.

“Yet inside, I am dazed and confused.”

Suddenly, he reached towards her and his enormous, warm, rough palm cupped her cheek. She stiffened in place, almost clutching at the edge of the counter, but she didn’t want to look too dramatic.

“You don’t need to be confused. But I like that you are dazed,” he murmured, lightly brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. “God you are so fucking beautiful…” he gasped, as if disbeliving that fact. “I’d love to kiss you.”

She was feeling faint. Truly, if she was going to collapse now and faint like some 19th century damsel, she wouldn’t be surprised.

Who said things like these?!?!

“I…what? No. No, you can’t.”

“Why?” he inquired, his brow furrowed.

“I,” she felt like she was hyperventilating.

“Is there a man in the picture?” he asked then, his tone dry.

“No. No man.”

He smiled a quick, pleased smile.

“Then that’s good.”

Elain didn’t bother asking him about a woman in his life. It didn't seem like he had one. And his comment about Darius not being used to women only confirmed that. But, that wasn’t enough.

“What I am trying to say,” she whispered, while he still held her face in his palm, and his touch was gentle and warm, as he listened attentively, and in the background Gus the Mouse was singing a song, “is that I’m not experienced. Not at all,” she hurried, wishing to get this out. “I am…I don’t have experience with men. I am not experienced with sex. I don’t know how to do this,” she waved her hand between their bodies. “This fancy banter. This…You! I don’t know how to do you,”

“You can do me very easily,” he chuckled a husky, sexy chuckle. “I’d love for you to do me.”

“No, no!” she slapped his other hand in frustration. “You think I am kidding, but I am not! I am not kinky,”

“I didn’t say I was kinky,” he reminded her with that impossible smirk of his. “Why did you assume I was kinky? And what’s kinky, exactly?”

“That’s the thing!” she exclaimed in frustration. “I don’t know! I have Isa and my business, and that’s it. I don’t know the modern lingo. I don’t know what people are into. I am not into spanking and choking,”

“Seems like you do know what people are into,” he teased.

“I only know a little because I read books,”

“Naughty books, it seems like,”

But at last, he dropped his hand from her face, and she thought that he was annoyed with her, but he only covered her hands with his and squeezed lightly.

“Calm down and breathe.”

Elain realised that she was panting loudly, and she felt extremely hot. She was sweating beneath her dress, and her hands were shaking.

“Elain, please,” he said kindly. “Please…I am sorry if I’ve upset you. It’s not my intention at all. But you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,”

“I’ve only had sex once,” she shot out in one breath.

He had no visible reaction for a few seconds. Then, confusion. Then, he asked,

“You mean…wait…what do you mean? You,”

“Basically a virgin,” she admitted bitterly, hanging her head.

They were both silent for a few moments, before she continued,

“I was a senior in university–twenty-one years old. Almost twenty-two. Never had a real boyfriend. Never even been kissed other than by Bobby Sands when we were nine. And don’t tell me that I am ‘pretty and how could that be’,” she warned him.

“But you are pretty and how could that be?” he said immediately and she smiled weakly at him. He was smiling back.

“Anyway, I went to a party and met this guy Graysen Nolan–I mean, I knew who he was–he was a football superstar. He was the quarterback for the Buffaloes and he was at the party and he was paying me attention. Like, a lot of attention. And he was laughing with me and joking, and telling stories and slipping me Margaritas,”

“Did he rape you?” Azriel’s tone was deadly, and Elain saw that moment in his expression that he was capable of some dark deeds.

“No,” she shook her head no. “I was willing. I mean, I don’t know–he wasn’t violent. He wasn’t mean. But I was drunk. I mean, I guess I consented. I am not sure…”

“So he took advantage of you at the very least.”

“Yes. And he also took my virginity. Which I don’t even remember happening, or feeling it. I don’t even know if he took it entirely, to be honest. And he didn’t use a condom. And because I was a hopeless virgin, I wasn’t on any kind of birth control. And I guess I was too stupid to go to Walgreens the next day and get Plan B. Then three weeks later, I realised that my period was late. And late. And I was terrified, because things like these don’t happen, right? They don’t happen to good girls who are virgins. It couldn’t happen to me. I went and I got a pregnancy test and it was positive.”

“And you kept her,” Azriel said simply.

“I considered it. I really did. I considered getting an abortion and just chucking it off to a bad, drunk decision in college. But then I also always wanted to be a mother and as I thought about it, I was more and more petrified that somehow, I was given this option and if I didn’t take it, I might ever have it again. Looking back, it seems very juvenile…almost religious. And I am not religious at all.

“I think deep down, I just wanted to have her. I don’t think I could ever actually go through with an abortion.

“And as difficult as it’s been at times, I never regretted my decision. Never. I never thought what my life would have been without her…it just wasn’t an option any longer. And in some ways, some doors closed for me, but others opened. I became a caterer, and now I have a side business that does flowers as well, and I am doing…pretty good. Financially, I am more successful than I thought I would be.

“I started with making cakes and cupcakes and children’s parties and birthdays and anniversaries and then I began expanding further, and I have a hugely successful Instagram account, with recipes and videos. And that led to paid sponsorships and advertisements. So I don’t know how, but somewhere along the way, I became successful.

“But when I say that I am inexperienced, I mean it. I’ve only had sex once. And I got pregnant. And I’ve never been with a man since.”

He was back leaning in his chair, watching her, lightly licking his lower lip.

“So,” he said at last, “I have a question for you.”

Elain wiped her brow with her hand, feeling raw and exposed.

This was definitely the worst Princess Tea Party in history. Definitely.

“Yeah?” she breathed.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The question was not what she was expecting. Shocker. The least shocking thing about this was that he shocked her.

“I…what? Why are you asking me this?” she demanded.

“It’s a simple question,” he said calmly. “Am I attractive to you?”

YES. 10000% yes.

“Everyone would find you attractive,” she said instead.

“That wasn’t the question,” he reminded her.

He poured himself more wine from the open bottle and sipped it slowly.

“Because I find you very attractive. Beautiful, in fact. And I’d like to kiss you, at the very least,”

“No,” she gasped. “You can’t kiss me!”

He bobbed his head side to side, and then decided,

“Okay. Well, if you won’t let me kiss you, then can you climb on my lap so I can finger you until you come. Because I really, really want to watch you come.

“I think you’d come beautifully for me. And maybe then I can kiss you.”

The thundering shock that roiled the entirety of Elain’s body was unlike anything she'd experienced before. Because that could not be what she just heard. He could not have said these words.

She murmured, absolutely floored, “you did not just say this to me.”

“Oh no, I definitely did,” he insisted, without taking his crazy eyes off of her.

That’s what it was. He must have been insane. There was no other explanation.

“I did say it,” he repeated with that maddening calmness of his. “Because from the moment I saw you, I wanted to watch you come for me. Usually I am not this forward,”

“I find that hard to believe!” she hissed hysterically, but he ignored her,

“But I feel like you are a little sad, probably tired, and doing your best. And you haven’t been loved, or admired for a long time. And you deserve it. So, climb on my lap, while they watch the cartoon, and I will make you come.

“I am good at it,” he assured her needlessly.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she was trying to form a thought and failing miserably. “I am sure you are!”

“I am,” he confirmed. “If you prefer, I will gladly eat your pussy, which I am sure is as sweet as a strawberry…though for that, maybe we should go to the bathroom?”

Elain was shaking her head mutely.

She was lost. And her ability to speak was gone. As was her ability to think.

Who dared say such things to someone they just met?

“Well, Mr…I am sorry, I don’t know your last name,” she said, her voice trembling with tension and embarrassment.

“Night,” he offered sweetly.

“Of course. Mr. Night. This has been a very entertaining day. I’ve enjoyed meeting you, I think. But no, I will not sit on your lap and allow you to do…all that,” she waved her hand, refusing to actually repeat his words.

“I apologise if I embarrassed you,” he said seriously. “It was not my intention.”

She pursed her lips and didn't say anything.

“Truly, Elain, I guess I am sorry.”

She huffed, “You guess?”

“I mean, I am not sorry at all, but I suppose it’s the right thing to say under the circumstances. I am supposed to be contrite,”

Elain threw her hands up in the air helplessly.

“Why are you so weird?!” she cried out. “Do you just say the first thing that comes into your head and you have zero self-control?”

“I have plenty of self-control,” he argued. “I am not presently bending you over the counter and filling you with my dick. No matter how much I want to. No matter how much you want to.”

“I don’t want that!” she argued, but her voice came out kind of breathy.

“Okay. But you are lying. And maybe scared. But you definitely have given it some serious thought. I don't know much, but I do know when a woman wants me.”

He got up from the chair and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Here it is–I want you. Like, a lot. The way I haven’t wanted anyone probably ever. And if I am reading you right, and I think that I am, you want me too. But, now that I understand a little more about your background, I imagine that you’d prefer a relationship, as opposed to just a sweaty, hot, passionate fuck.”

Elain just blinked at him, while he continued,

“But I am not going to pressure you or go all crazy stalker on you.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t thank me yet. Darius and I go for a walk in Wash Park, around the pond, every night at around 5:15pm. I get him nice and tired out for dinner and then hopefully, it will be quiet time for the night.

“Anyway, like I said, I am not going to pressure you into anything. But if you want to see me again–see us–then hopefully you and Isa will come and join us for a walk. And then we’ll go back to my place and I’ll cook dinner. And then, you can stay over. Or not.

“Like I said, I am not one to waste time.”

The movie was almost over, and Elain got up, straightening her dress.

Azriel stayed behind in the kitchen, watching her from his spot.

“Hey guys!” Elain greeted them. “Did you have so much fun?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Well, I have a little parting gift for all of you,” she took something out from a little bag and announced, “friendship bracelets! You seven are all friends now, so choose a bracelet that you want to give your new friend.”

Little Darius got really confused by the instructions, taking a bracelet for himself, which he did not want to give up, and then someone else wanted it, so there was a decent amount of fighting that descended into tears.

Elain caught Azriel’s amused grin, as he watched the commotion, while cleaning up in the kitchen. He wasn’t helping her calm the masses, but he was washing the dishes, which was just as good.

At last, Isa gave Darius his bracelet and he was placated. Elain took his delightfully fat arm and wrapped the bracelet over the fold around his wrist. He was watching intently as she lined the clasps and closed the bracelet on his hand.

“Dada!” came the familiar call, and Darius took off, waving his arm around. “Dada! Look at! You love it? Isa give it to me.”

“This is a great friendship bracelet.” Azriel approved. “Who did you give yours to?”

“Tay!”

“Did she like it?”

“Yeah,” Darius nodded, twisting his hand and admiring his bracelet. “Now I have many friends.”

Moms started coming over right about then, to pick up their daughters. They all, without fail, gave Azriel curious, somewhat frightened, but very intrigued looks.

Meanwhile, Darius began cleaning up after the party, gathering all the spoons and forks, and bringing them to the kitchen without being prompted. Isabella followed suit, getting the cups, two at a time, while Darius returned to the den, and stacked the saucers and the plates in neat piles, tongue hanging out from concentration, while he stopped once in a while to admire his bracelet.

“Your son is unreal,” Elain whispered as she passed Azriel.

He chuckled.

“What is he even? A damn miracle kid,” she continued, though she avoided any other topics of conversation, especially those of a more intimate nature, and only stuck to admiring the adorable toddler.

Azriel was washing the dishes methodically, his inked forearms wet and glistening, and somehow, extra attractive right now.

“He does chores,” he said, while Darius ambled with three plates in his hands. “Somewhat badly, but he does them.”

“I think he does them perfectly!” Elain announced firmly.

Once the dishes were washed, dried and put away, Azriel wiped his hands and called, “Dar, time to go, buddy.”

“We can’t stay, da?” Darius asked sadly.

“I think we need to let Elain rest. She’s been working really hard and made this gorgeous party for you guys.”

“Yes! Thank you, Lain!” Darius yelled.

“You are welcome, sweet boy,” Elain stroked his head. “Go get your cap.”

“No friendship bracelet for me?” Azriel’s low, sexual voice was suddenly right behind her, and Elain jumped, realising that he was standing behind her. His face dipped lower and his nose made a long, gentle swipe along her cheek.

Heart pounding, she felt her nipples harden and Azriel’s proximity made her pant-y. She was stifling the urgent need to moan.

“I have one for you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear softly. Then he reached and took her wrist in his huge hand, before slipping a plain silver band from his wrist, and closing it over hers. He wore a bunch of bracelets–mostly silver, some leather, some linked and knotted, others just bands, and this one was from his collection.

“Very nice,” he admired his bracelet on her hand and then stepped around, facing her.

They looked at each other for a long moment, his eyes hooded and warm.

He slowly lifted his hands and cupped her face between them.

“I was honest when I said that I would not push you,” he murmured huskily. “But until you tell me ‘no’ and until I hear it from your own lips that you are not interested, I will remain as into you as I am right now. Infatuated. Flabbergasted. You brought me to my knees without even trying. And until you tell me otherwise, I would want to fuck you and make you mine. I promise you that your tight little pussy will be mine. And this fucking glorious ass. And your pink mouth, which looks like a half-open tulip. I want every hole. Every crevice. Every damn fucking bit of you, down to your soul. And I will have it. Because we’ve been written in the stars, baby.”

He looked down at her, and just when Elain thought that he was going to kiss her, he softly pressed his lips to her forehead and then let go of her.

Darius arrived with his flat cap on his head and then he took Azriel’s hand.

“Bye Lain! Bye Isa. You be good.”

Elain, who could barely breathe since Azriel’s wildly inappropriate and heated words, only managed to nod, as she watched the father and son open the door and walk out.

To be continued

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