Olethros

twenty eight - freyja

We stayed like this for a long while; Azriel's head on my lap, my fingers in his hair. It felt nice to be needed. Not like how I was needed to calm tension between courts by marrying the son of a High Lord, but I was simply needed for comfort. I wanted to cry again.

It was such a simple moment. Just Azriel and I, two people lost in this damned world and in need of solace. It was not my brother's closest friend and the daughter of a High Lord. It was just us. I loved it. I craved more of it.

I'd thought Azriel had fallen asleep, but then his hand shifted from the blanket to my clothed thigh, squeezing the flesh as he let out a shaking breath. I bit down on my lip, lifting my eyes to the empty fireplace beyond the bed. It would be cruel of me to ask for pleasure while he was in this state of mind. Nonetheless, I felt that desire climb through me. It was difficult not to feel it around him.

"Freyja," Azriel spoke my name in a husky tone that had bumps rising on my skin. I hummed in response. He didn't say anything more; he just lifted his head and looked at me. I could see now that my thoughts were shared in his mind. His eyes were dark, expanded with desire like I was sure mine were. Excitement had my heart pounding.

"Yes," I said, though he asked no question. It was simply just a statement that he knew the thoughts behind. Mother, I wanted to sob with relief when he shifted on the bed. Azriel was on his knees, hunched over and taking my mouth with his. My nails found their way to the back of his neck, dragging him closer despite the headboard pressing into my back.

"Are you sure?" He asked against my lips. His voice was so low, thundering through my chest. I nodded, but his bare hand took my jaw and pressed my head back. "Words, Freyja."

"Yes," I nearly cried. I should feel embarrassed at how desperate I sounded, but I didn't care. I needed him in a way that would provide pleasure, comfort, and a facade of love. I knew we couldn't love each other the way I wished, but I would take anything he offered.

His lips crashed into mine again, tongue tasting the desperation on my own. His large hand clamped down on my waist, the other still holding my jaw as he devoured my mouth. I'd expected our next touches to be as frantic and lust-crazed as our kisses, but Azriel seemed to savor it. His hand tugged the tunic from the pants, slipping up the hem and onto my bare skin. I shuddered, moaning against his tongue at the small touch.

Azriel slowed his mouth, the kiss growing deeper and slower as his hand left my jaw and helped the other to pull the tunic up. We parted just enough for him to pull the clothing from my torso. I was shaking under his firm touch. He was skilled, rough hands gliding over my stomach and ribs before taking my breasts into his palm. I moaned again, arching my back into his touch as he squeezed and massaged.

I'd never assumed breasts were a point of pleasure. I'd always thought they were meant to feed a babe, but here I was, a writhing moaning mess as Azriel tugged at the peaked tips. He pulled his mouth from mine, shifting back enough to tug me down. I gasped as my head hit the pillow, but then his mouth was on my breast and I couldn't think clearly. His warm tongue flicked over the peak, making my body jolt.

"You drive me fucking wild," he growled against my skin. I couldn't do anything but moan in response. His hand untied the leather at my hips with ease, shoving the pants down my thighs. Azriel shifted on the bed again, pushing the wool pants from my feet and climbing between my thighs. I lifted my head, desperate to see what he was doing. I remembered what it had been like, the last time he did this. Desire drowned me in the memories.

Large hands slipped beneath my thighs and took me by the hips. My lips fell open at the intention in his dark eyes. I nearly fell apart at the mischievous grin that tugged at his lips before dropping his mouth down. My entire body tensed, back arching and head falling back at the first touch of his tongue. Azriel licked and sucked at my most sensitive area, my legs throwing themselves over his shoulder in a desperate attempt to bring him closer.