A Court of Death || ACOTAR

70

Azriel could not breathe. Between the bond roaring in his chest and the feeling of Astryn's hands stroking his wings, he could not breathe. He was nearing release, and part of him didn't want it to be like this—still in his pants and without getting to touch her. He would take whatever she was willing to give him, but he had other ways he hoped for this to happen.

"Four hundred years," she murmured above him, "four hundred years and you never let another person touch you."

He nodded, eyes squeezed shut.

Her hands left his wings and a breath finally escaped him, his eyes opening as he felt her move. She unfastened his pants, eyes flicking towards his for a moment before she gave a little tug. He lifted his hips and she pulled his pants down, slow and careful. She looked towards his wings and then back down.

"I always forget just how accurate that wingspan correlation is," she remarked, earning a breathy laugh from him. She peeled her nightgown off and threw it aside before she positioned herself over him and sank down. "Fuck."

"I love when you curse," he mumbled, "filthy words from the prettiest mouth." He groaned when she took him fully. "Can I touch you?" he asked, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. He was near begging, but he didn't want to, for the risk of her feeling any pressure to give permission for something she wasn't quite ready for.

"Yes," she answered after a moment, "please."

"Can I move you? You'll still be on top."

She hesitated for a few seconds, staring at his face like she needed to remind herself of who he was.

"Yes," she finally said.

He pulled her off of his cock and guided her up, "I've been dying to taste you again. Four hundred years without you. Gods, I spent so long craving you."

And then he pulled her onto his face, hands set loosely on her thighs—not with nearly enough pressure to hold her in place but just enough to feel her skin, to be grounded knowing his hands were on his mate. She reached down between them and buried her hands in his hair as he licked her.

"Azriel," she moaned, head thrown back in pleasure. His tongue thrusted into her, devouring every bit he could. "Az. Fuck."

He did not stop until she came on his face twice, and even then he wished he could continue.

"I want you," Astryn said pleadingly, "I want you."

"Then take me," he offered, "I'm yours."

She inched back down his body, and she knew neither of them would last long as she sank down on him once more. His hands were on her, touching every bit of skin he could, his eyes tracking his movements as if he was trying to make certain he still remembered every inch of her.

"You're so perfect," he praised quietly, "so beautiful. Utterly fucking flawless, Astryn. So good and lovely." She moaned and his lips rigged up into a smile. "So perfect. Always so perfect. I adore you." He wished this moment could last forever as he stared up at her, as she moved on him and he touched her. "I'd live like this for every moment of our lives if I could."

"I don't want you to leave tomorrow," she mumbled, "I don't want you to go."

"I'll spend every moment I'm gone thinking about you," he swore, "every single moment."

She stroked his cheek and her turned his head, taking her fingers into his mouth. His teeth dragged lightly over her skin and his tongue circles her fingers before he gently grabbed her wrist and eased her fingers out of his mouth.

"Touch yourself," he rasped, "please. I want to watch you touch yourself while I'm inside of you."

"Filthy male," she muttered playfully, though she did as he asked. He groaned in satisfaction when her fingers found her clit. "I don't ever want anyone but you again, Azriel. No one."

"You're all I want," he said back despite the fact that they both knew that already, "this is all I want."

He felt her clench around him and let out a moan, knowing they were both close to release.

"You first," he urged, his hand taking the place of hers, toying with her clit as his hips thrust up, "you first, Astryn. You first, mate."

She tipped over that edge, a wave of pleasure washing over her. He followed only moments later. She eased off of him after a few moments, collapsing back onto the bed beside him.

"Do you want a bath?" he offered.

"In a minute," she muttered, her voice the slightest bit unsteady.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern clear in his voice as he searched her expression. It used to be easier to read her, but she knew how to hide from him now more than she did four centuries ago.

After a long few seconds, she finally spoke.

"I'm thinking about him. I don't know why. I wasn't while we were...but now I'm thinking about him," she confessed, eyes watery. She did not allow a single tear to fall, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Azriel because she couldn't bear to look at him and see anything that might hint at what he was thinking. "His daemati...they had my mind, but not enough of it for me not to be aware. I heard myself speak, heard myself beg for him, say...whatever he wanted me to say. And the things he said. Horrible things. I don't want to be thinking about him right now, or ever. But I suddenly can't not think about him. He would have kept me chained to his bed for eternity."

"Can I hug you?"

She sniffled, and then she nodded. He gently pulled her up and sat them both up, settling her on his lap, and he rested one head on the back of her head and wrapped his other arm around her middle. She looped her arms up around his neck loosely and let him hold her, and she finally shed a few tears.

"I hate him," she mumbled, "I hate him."

"I know," Azriel said, voice soft and soothing, "I know."

"I hate him. I hate him."

Astryn repeated it again and again, and Azriel held her as she did.