A Court of Innocents

24: Eternal

Warmth. That was all I knew. Pressed tightly against a man who was nothing but ice-cold shadows, I became nothing but golden, glowing warmth.

His mouth moved against mine with gentle grace. When his tongue slid across my lips, it was light strokes. Azriel was the picture of controlled precision as he kissed me softly. It was aggravating.

I pulled away half an inch, just enough to breathe into his mouth, "Stop holding back."

He growled, and I swallowed the sound with another kiss. My tongue danced against his own. I matched each of his slow, meticulous strokes with eagerness, wondering why the hell he wasn't as desperate as I was. I needed him closer, needed that controlled mouth to kiss down my naked body and make me—

"If I do that," he murmured, pulling away just enough to make me whine, "if I let myself be selfish, you won't ever go back to Spring. I'll never let you leave again."

I didn't let myself speak. Didn't even begin to open my mouth. I knew that if I did, it wouldn't be to deny him.

I curled my fingers around the edge of his black shirt and tugged his mouth back to mine instead. I kissed him urgently, fervently, trying to show him everything I couldn't bear to say out loud. It pulled a groan from the back of his throat, and I swallowed it happily. Strong fingers dug into my hips and hinted at the restraint he was quickly losing his grip on.

My own movements were precise and sharp as I threw a leg over his lap. Our mouths never parted, our eyes never opened, as if that was enough to hold reality at bay. As if we could hide away in this blissful world that only consisted of the two of us, and no one would ever come looking to remind us of our responsibilities. Those hands only pulled me tighter against him. My top was thin, and his body heat was overwhelming, and when our chests brushed together, my nipples instantly pebbled at the sensation. I ground against him and—

"Fuck," he hissed, and I moaned.

He was hard and long and throbbing, and every soft part of me lined up perfectly to meet his rough edges.

I'd never wanted a friend like this, so close and intimate and wild. But Azriel had always been separated from the others in my mind. Always seeing the parts I hid away from the world, always hearing what I didn't say as well as the parts I did. Maybe I'd gotten it wrong. Maybe Lucien wasn't my best friend after all. Maybe it was this man of shadows and ice and blood—a soul that turned even the darkness into something of comfort.

My best friend. A fitting title. And yet... and yet it still didn't feel right. He deserved more, more, more.

And that was exactly what my body demanded of him as we moved against each other. His hips jerked up to meet every sway of mine, and we swallowed each other's moans, losing ourselves to selfish, demanding urgency.

I would have given him anything and everything he asked for. Would have happily tainted this piano bench with our deep, friendly desire. And if he hadn't asked that of me, I would have taken it instead. Like him, I was tired of pretending. Tired of ignoring the elephant in the room. There was nothing wrong with showing a little love to your best friend, and yet...

And yet he pulled away. Sighed through his teeth. And, with what seemed like a great effort, moved me off him.

"Don't stop now," I said, trying to laugh even as a flame burned steady inside of me. A heat I couldn't ignore and longed to satisfy.

"Rhysand is requesting our company at the townhouse."

I mumbled something that may have been "whiny Illyrian babies" under my breath, but I'd never confess to it.