Fae X Human - Tumblr Posts
Bluebird — Part VI — (Azriel x Reader)
Hi! Here’s Part VI! Thank you for reading 💕 hope you enjoy!
Warnings: none for this part.
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It would be an outright lie to say that doubts hadn’t begun to sneak into your mind.
There were so many things wrong about this. So many things you imagined would have your mother turning in her grave.
A fae male — you’d willingly invited a fae male into your home, into your company. Into a situation where it would just be the two of you.
You should have been petrified. Sick to your stomach. Regretful and guilty and ashamed to have even considered any of this.
But the triumphant feeling of the entire following day was simply excitement. A nagging eagerness for night to finally sweep in, and for Azriel to return.
You’d laid awake in bed, trying to conjure up the sound of his voice in your mind. That lilting, graceful quality to it that felt like chills skittering over your skin. You ached to hear it again; to revel in it.
Your day dragged by torturously slow. The only visitors to the inn had been the two village guards who had paid you a visit to ask if you’d seen or heard anything around the time of Polly’s death.
No, you’d told them. I was here at home all night. The lie had come to you so easily. And you were past the point of trying to convince yourself that you’d ever tip the authorities off to Azriel’s presence in the village.
He’d be accused of the deaths in a heartbeat. And you knew — you knew he’d done nothing wrong.
So you passed your day wistfully waiting for the daylight to trick away. When your father announced he was leaving for the festival, you didn’t beg him, this time, to allow you to attend. You merely wished him a good evening, and dead-bolted the door shut behind him.
You knew that Azriel wouldn’t need to come through the door. Not with his…abilities.
The sky’s summer evening hues eventually bled into a dark blanket of stars above the village. It didn’t bother you, tonight, that you were the only one left behind.
Didn’t bother you one bit.
Not as you felt a strange, pleasant prickle of awareness on the back of your neck. You knew what to expect this time.
You turned just as Azriel stepped out of thin air, right in the inn’s main bar area.
The two of you stared at each other in silence, your gaze slowly drinking in the tall, broad sight of him. He was resplendent in his dark, artistic leathers. His hair sat a little tousled and windswept on his head, his tan cheeks bitten by the breeze.
He studied you just as intensely, the caramel specks in his eyes seeming to darken.
But then one half of his full, sensuous mouth kicked up into a smile. “I didn’t frighten you this time.”
“No.” A breathy laugh escaped you. “I knew what to expect.
He cracked a grin far too beautiful for you to stare at for too long, lest it render you a speechless, boneless form incapable of thought. Lips tipped up into a smile, you quickly looked for something — anything — to say.
“Would you like a drink?” Making drinks was where you were comfortable; something you did day in and day out without a second thought. It occupied your hands well enough.
Azriel inclined his head. “That would be wonderful. Thank you.”
You breezed past him, fully aware of the pleasant tension that followed you, an entity entirely of its own. Azriel left a respectful distance as he followed.
There was something amusing about the way he perched on one of the barstools — just like any old punter that frequented the place. Except that your usual punters tended not to have wings or a level of beauty that seemed almost prohibited. An inexplicable, emotionally charged giggle wanted to force its way up your throat, and you quickly tamped down on it.
Clearly the thrill of such a clandestine meeting was having an effect on you.
If Azriel noticed your amused expression, he didn’t comment — though he did watch you closely, intensely, as you stopped behind the bar and reached for two glasses. You didn’t ask him what, exactly, he wanted to drink — another of your quiet talents seemed to be the art of taking one glimpse at a person and just knowing what their poison of choice would be.
You were curious to know if that extended to the non-human variety of person.
Your movements around that small area were entirely fluid; almost graceful. A routine that flowed from one movement to the next. You reached for the finest whiskey that The Bluebird Inn had to offer, its smoky aroma wafting up to you as you poured a measure into each glass. And despite the honeyed gaze that was trained on you, you were entirely at ease, natural—
Until a strange, cold, feather-like touch tickled the underside of your forearm. You yelped, almost dropping the bottle as you stepped back; just as a dark shadow skittered its way back to Azriel.
“I’m sorry. They’re curious about you.” His voice was soothing. “They won’t harm you.”
You studied them — really studied them, for the first time. There was an artistic quality to the way they coiled around Azriel’s figure like a dancing, protective shield. Like a sentient mist that moved entirely of its own volition. They were—
“Beautiful.” You breathed the word aloud.
Azriel’s cheeks seemed to darken slightly. He dipped his chin. “I command them, but…they can also act upon their own thoughts and feelings. Their senses.”
Indeed, you watched as one shadow — the very same one that had brushed your arm — snaked out towards the two glasses filled with amber liquid. It was with pure fascination that you observed the way it wrapped around one glass and dragged it closer to Azriel, as careful and firm as a hand’s grip.
“Did you tell it to do that?” You blinked in amazement.
“I didn’t — though I could have. It acted entirely of its own choosing.” Azriel accepted the glass, lifting it to his lips. He paused, glancing at the seat beside him. “Sit with me?”
Right. Because the bar felt like a barrier between you. A nuisance.
You felt too aware of every one of your movements as you took your drink in hand and traipsed round to the other side of the bar. You were too human; not at all graceful and masterfully elegant like Azriel was. The toe of your boot caught on one of the stools’ legs, sending your body hurtling forward and the liquid in your glass sloshing—
But Azriel’s hand shot out without a lick of hesitation, steadying your waist and keeping you upright. You could have sworn that his palm burned through your tunic.
“Sorry.” You cleared your throat.
“No need to apologise.” So gently, like he feared startling you, he prised your glass from your hand and set it down beside his. And then pulled out the stool directly next to him.
His hand continued to steady you as you climbed up. And only when you were seated — not at risk of falling flat on your face — did he retract it. You tried not to think too much about how cold your waist felt in its absence.
The position was…intimate; legs and arms close enough to touch, scorching gazes only centimetres apart. You lifted your eyes to his. Found him already staring at you.
You paused. “What is it?”
“I feel like we spoke so much about me last night.” Up close, Azriel’s voice was even more of a caress. “I want to know about you.”
This was the embarrassing part. You didn’t have five centuries of experience to share — didn’t even really have twenty-one years of experience, given how sheltered your life had been. When you stopped to think about it, you were really quite…boring.
“There’s not much to know.” You admitted, your cheeks flushing. You gestured to the room around you. “This is me. This place is my life. I’ve always been here, and I suppose I always will be.”
Azriel’s head tilted almost imperceptibly. “Through choice?”
“What do you mean?”
“If it were up to you, would you choose to always be here?”
You stared back at him, pursing your lips. You knew the answer without having to ponder it; gods, you’d thought about it often enough.
No, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t always be here. You didn’t mind helping at the inn — sometimes, you even enjoyed it. But if you were given half the opportunity, you’d snatch up a little more vibrancy to lighten up your insular life. Even if it was just…a few friends to meet with regularly, to break up the mundane. A chance to be your own person.
But everything your father had ever said and done was for your own good. He simply didn’t want you ending up like your mother.
You gave a half-hearted shrug, not quite liking the answer as you replied, “It’s irrelevant what I’d choose. This is my life.”
Azriel’s eyes flicked around the room, drinking in the polished wooden tables, their chairs stacked atop them; the wall at the back that housed bottles and bottles of wines and spirits; the scuffs in the floor and the marks on the walls and the dark, dingy stretch of room that never seemed to get much light.
Part of you was curious to know what he was seeing, thinking. Another part of you was scared of the answer.
“It seems like a lonely life.” He eventually surmised. “You…you’re always on your own.”
Your body tensed. He wasn’t wrong, but…to hear it come from somebody else…to hear it spoken aloud and not just clanging around in your melancholy thoughts…you were surprised to find your guard rising a little.
“My father needs me.” Was your response. It sounded as pathetic an explanation as it felt.
Azriel’s gaze landed on your face, searching your expression. A muscle in his jaw ticked. “And what do you need?”
You shrugged. “Who cares what I need?”
“I care.”
You faltered. Stared back at him.
Why, you wanted to ask. Why bother? Why accept my invitation instead of laughing in my face?
You didn’t have the courage to ask, though. You grabbed your glass and knocked back the liquid in one go, fully aware that Azriel still watched you. Tension swirled thickly between you like shadows — his shadows.
But then he, too, reached for his glass and knocked back the liquid. And there was something light, playful, in the way he nudged your arm with his. “Do you want to know what I need?”
You coughed a laugh. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
His eyes glittered, a devastatingly beautiful smile tugging his lips up. “I need,” he said, leaning close enough that his scent shrouded you, “to hear you play your music again.”
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It was different this time.
Azriel didn’t put distance between you; didn’t keep to the corners of the room.
He perched at your side on the piano stool, watching up-close, in pure fascination, as your fingers danced across the keys. Every few seconds, your arm would brush his.
The only way you were still breathing, still concentrating, was by focusing entirely on the music. Because if you thought too much about the hard press of Azriel’s muscled forearm, or inhaled too deeply that intoxicating scent of his, you weren’t sure you wouldn’t just…cease to exist. Or at least collapse onto the floor.
Your heart galloped wildly in your chest, thudded loudly in your ears. And as you reached the climax of the composition, you knew Azriel’s gaze no longer tracked your fingers. It sat firmly, dedicatedly, on your face.
And even though he undoubtedly made you nervous — a fact you didn’t want to linger on for too long — you knew it didn’t come from a place of discomfort. At his side, you were entirely at ease. Not frightened, like you always thought you would be within such proximity to a fae male.
Your fingers slowed until the music faded out. And then silence blanketed the room.
You waited for Azriel to say something, anything. When he didn’t, you lifted your eyes from the keys to meet his. The intensity there was blazing.
“You…” He shook his head, as though he’d become a little dazed. “You are so brilliant.”
Your cheeks flamed at the praise. “Thank you.”
“I never really had the opportunity to learn.” He nodded to the piano. “But I kind of wish I had. The city I live in has an entertainment district that we call The Rainbow. The best performers of all types of arts put on shows there nightly. I’ve seen some excellent pianists there — just like you. It must be wonderful to be able to lose yourself in the music like that.”
The Rainbow. A place where people just…performed and appreciated art. It sounded like an absolute dream. And that Azriel had likened you to the pianists there—
You weren’t used to such praise. The compliment was almost too much to bear. Without thinking, you blurted, “Give me your hand.”
Azriel stopped short. Stared at you. “What?”
You cleared your throat, holding your own hand out. “I’ll show you how to play.”
There was a pause. A moment’s hesitation. But then his hand slid into yours.
He wore no gloves tonight.
The weight and warmth of his hand was startling — and dangerously pleasant. The scarred skin brushed against your palm in a way that made you wonder what it would feel like all over your body.
The thought almost had you jumping right out of your too-hot skin, out of your roaring thoughts. You may be entirely inexperienced, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t thought about such things, like close proximities and heated touches—
Never like this, though. Never so…raw. So curiously.
You batted the thoughts to the darkest corners of your mind, focusing on the reason you’d even asked for his hand in the first place. Both you and Azriel watched as you slowly pressed his fingers against the keys, producing a sweet, simple tune that you used to absentmindedly play when you were much younger and certainly not as good a pianist as you were these days.
Azriel, too, watched closely. Your arms brushed against each other, and you wondered if he felt it as totally as you did; wondered what he might be thinking.
The tune came to an end. Neither of you moved your hands.
“There you go.” Your voice was a tad rough. You lifted your lips into a soft smile. “You just played piano.”
Azriel laughed quietly, not breaking his stare from your joined hands. “I certainly don’t think the pianists in The Rainbow will be feeling threatened by my skills any time soon.”
You couldn’t help your smile widening into a grin. “Keep at it and they won’t know what’s hit them.”
Another trill of your soft laughter mixed with his, the sound a kind of music of its own. It was beautiful, you thought. His shadows swirled around you contentedly.
Just like you thought his hands were beautiful. Painfully so.
You couldn’t help staring. Not because you meant to gawk at the brutal scarring, but because you feared the story behind it. Whatever it was, you knew, had to be unimaginable.
Azriel watched your hands, too. Still joined together, yours on top of his.
You couldn’t stop yourself.
Which such slow, careful movements, you traced a finger over the marred skin, introducing yourself to every brutal bump and jagged line. Azriel said nothing; you weren’t even sure he was breathing. And that seemed to be confirmed when you brushed your fingers over the back of his palm, and he sucked in a breath.
You paused your movements immediately, eyes darting to his. “Is it painful?”
“No.” His voice was tight, like…like he was trying to hold himself in check, or something. He shook his head. “Not painful, no. It’s actually quite…soothing.”
Soothing. You gently picked your movements back up, tracing his skin, exploring it. He found it soothing.
You couldn’t begin to imagine the kind of pain he must have experienced. After a short stint of silence, you couldn’t hold your words in any longer.
“What happened to you?” You whispered.
For a while, Azriel said nothing. Perhaps it was wrong for you to have asked — perhaps he simply wasn’t comfortable. You opened your mouth to apologise, to reassure him, but he beat you to speaking.
“I was the bastard son of a lord.” His voice was rough, raw. “I lived at my father’s keep, but I certainly wasn’t welcome there; my stepmother and two stepbrothers didn’t take kindly to my presence. The living conditions were…not good. And worst of all, I wasn’t allowed to see my mother very often. Just an hour every week. I think perhaps they were trying to break me. And when I was eight, my stepbrothers poured oil over my hands and set them alight. My father’s guards heard me screaming and found me, but…not soon enough to limit the damage it left me with.”
Every inch of your body had gone ice-cold.
It was suddenly as though there wasn’t enough air left in the room; like Azriel’s words had winded you. Bile rose in your throat that you swallowed down with the hard lump of emotion that had grown there.
To think that somebody could be so callous, so cruel…you couldn’t bear it. Hot tears burned your eyes.
Azriel was suddenly leaning closer, and he frowned. Studied you. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m just so sorry that happened to you.” Your voice wavered. “It’s so evil—”
His hand slid out from beneath yours — only to move up to your face and cup your cheek. The pad of his thumb caught the first tear that fell.
“Your compassion is beautiful.” He swallowed. “But that was a very, very long time ago. I bettered myself. I decided not to let them win.”
You stared up at him, hoping it showed on your face how…in awe you were, of such bravery. Such strength. You sniffed, blinking away further threatening tears. “I’m glad that you did.”
Azriel didn’t reply. But you caught the way his eyes shifted down to your lips, and his throat bobbed.
You didn’t need a wealth of experience to know what the look on his face meant. Both panic and hope warred inside you.
You wanted what that look meant. What it would bring. And when Azriel said nothing, simply stared, you found yourself spurring him on.
“What is it?” You whispered — as if speaking too loudly would rip him from the moment.
Momentarily, his gaze clashed with yours again. “I would…” he cleared his throat. “I would really like to kiss you.”
A heated thrill shot through you that you’d never experienced. Of course, you’d laid awake some nights and imagined kissing and touching and what it would be like to be…to be wanted like that. You were just as susceptible to desire as any twenty-one-year-old woman.
But you imagined most twenty-one-year-old women had probably had their first kiss by your age. Unlike you.
That was what had you hesitating. Not reluctance to give in to such desires, but to do it wrongly.
Azriel entirely misread your hesitation, though. He began to slowly move back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”
“No—” you grabbed onto his hand so fast, you knew the redness of your cheeks deepened. “I want to. Really. I just…I’ve never…” you inhaled a slow breath as realisation dawned on Azriel’s face. “I don’t think I’d be very good.”
He stared at you, a strange, warm intensity in his eyes. And then his thumb swept over the back of your hand. A soft smile pulled at his lips. “I can show you. If you truly want me to.”
You knew your face must be flushing as scarlet as the blood that human and fae alike had shed over centuries. You were blushing like mad, as you nodded. And Azriel’s gaze seemed to soften even more.
You waited. Watched. Figured the best way to avoid doing anything wrong or unwanted was by just…keeping still. After a moment of silently studying you, Azriel slid his hands out from under yours. He brought them to your face, their warmth and roughness pleasant against your skin as he clasped your cheeks and slowly tilted your jaw up.
You knew you must be trembling beneath his touch. And as he lowered his own face until it was a mere hair’s-breadth from yours, you thought maybe you jolted. He exhaled, his breath fanning your lips.
“If at any time you want to stop,” he murmured deeply, “we stop. Okay?”
You nodded. “Okay.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
Azriel adjusted his hands, moving them up just slightly until they each cradled one of your cheeks. And then his thumb was brushing your skin there. You couldn’t look away as he closed the gap between you.
You felt it — the exact second his lips made contact with yours — through every part of your body.
They were surprisingly soft, despite his harsh, rugged appearance. His mouth carefully slanted over yours, and you felt the beating of your heart in your chest and your head and your ears and your throat. Azriel probably felt it, too.
His thumb gently brushed across your cheekbone, and his lips applied just a little bit of pressure. You followed his lead, doing the same, meeting every touch and press with your own.
It was a sweet, closed-mouth kiss. The kind you expected of a very first one. But you knew it could go deeper, further.
You wanted it to.
Azriel paused, and for a split second, a bizarre worry jolted through you that you’d somehow communicated that thought to him without speaking it. His lips hovered at yours, barely touching, now, and you wondered if he was dissatisfied. If he didn’t want it to go further. You wouldn’t blame him.
But then he whispered to you, deeply, roughly, “You doing okay?”
“Yes.” You matched the volume of his voice. You nodded. “Are you?”
“I’m more than okay.”
Before you could muster a response, he was closing that tiny gap once more. His lips moulded to yours, and a surge of confidence had you leaning into it and matching his pace. His thumb swept over your cheek, his palm clasping your jaw a little firmer.
And then you felt him run his tongue over your lips.
The sensation was…nice. More than nice. And your body reacted without much willing from you. You gasped, lips parting, and Azriel’s tongue tentatively slid in.
At once, his taste was storming your senses. He tasted…cold, in the most dizzying, lovely way you could imagine. Like those frosty winter nights you loved so much, when chilled mist hung in a thick layer over the village and froze the grass and had your breath clouding in front of your face. It was like bathing in winter, catching snowflakes in your mouth and your hair, feeling the chill bite your cheeks and turn them pink. And beneath the cold lay a warm, smoky undercurrent, the lingering taste of whiskey.
Azriel’s tongue swept around yours and tasted you just as thoroughly as you tasted him. And you…you felt yourself growing in confidence even more — figured he would have pulled away by now, if he wasn’t enjoying it. With a boldness you didn’t think too much about, you shifted on the piano stool so that you were sat astride it, and Azriel did the same, followed your movements, not once breaking from your kiss. You scooted closer to him, moving a hand up to thread your fingers within his hair. You applied pressure, kissed him harder—
Until he abruptly pulled away. He stared at you, panting slightly, his own cheeks flushed. His swollen lips were parted.
You studied him, wondering if you’d pushed it too far, done something wrong. You could only watch as his eyes shuttered.
“It appears I don’t need to show you how.” He breathed, opening those honeyed eyes again to meet yours. “Gods.”
You swallowed. “Was I…was it okay?”
“Okay doesn’t come close to what it was.”
You thought that was a compliment…maybe. Hopefully. But you didn’t care to think too hard about it. Or talk too much about it. You wanted that feeling and taste back. The pressure of his lips and the starlit frost of his mouth. Azriel watched you closely, reading every thought on your face as he brushed your cheek.
You glanced up at him. “Will you kiss me again?”
He swallowed. “Yes.” His voice was rough. “Gods, yes.”
It wasn’t as slow, this time, as he lowered his mouth to yours. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you waited for that intoxicating sensation, for him to kiss you hard and fast—
A huge thud, thud stopped you both in your tracks. The bangs were loud enough to rattle the windows. Had you damn near jumping out of your skin. Azriel looked up, immediately on alert.
“Someone’s at the door.” You breathed, and another thud coursed through. You pushed clumsily to your feet. “I should answer it. You should…stay hidden.”
Right before your very eyes, he was moving fast as lightning, becoming nothing but mere shadow. The sight was so magnificent that for a second, all you could do was gape, but a fourth bang had you jumping into action.
You hurried through, unbolting the door and pulling it open. You fell still at the sight of Devin — the young, handsome Guard in training — on your doorstep.
He smiled at you as though he hadn’t been close to breaking your door in.
“Devin.” You breathed, suddenly aware of every place in which your lips and skin tingled. “What are you…why aren’t you at the festival?”
“I was.” He placed a hand on the hilt of his short sword. “I came to check on you. To make sure you’re alright.”
You swallowed. “I’m fine.”
“It must be disconcerting, being the only one in the village while everyone is at the festival. Especially with recent events.”
Right. Someone had died last night. Somehow, you’d managed to forget that startling fact.
“It is…disconcerting.” You’d been anything but disconcerted, in Azriel’s company. You straightened yourself up. “But I’m okay. The property is secure, and I have my dagger.”
Devin studied you, his pale blue eyes almost too assessing. He pursed his lips. “Still — perhaps I should give the inn a once-over and check that nothing is untoward.”
“There’s really no need. You should go back and rejoin the fun—”
As if you hadn’t spoken, he was ushering you out of the way and slipping past you. Your heart lurched as he strode into your home, his gaze seeming to be everywhere at once.
“You haven’t seen or heard anything unusual?” He reached out, checking the lock on a window.
“Nothing.” Your eyes darted cautiously to the door that Azriel was behind. “Really, it’s just been quiet. There’s no need—”
He rounded on you, a frown pulling at his handsome features. “You’re sure you’re alright? You seem a little…skittish.”
Gods. You were going to give yourself up from your behaviour alone.
“I’m fine.” You insisted. “Like I said…it’s just disconcerting. What happened to Polly.”
Devin nodded. “That it is.”
Before you could speak another word, he was striding through to the main bar area. “It’s barbarous, what those fae scum are capable of.” His eyes danced over the area. “Young women can’t even enjoy a village festival, anymore, without being attacked.”
You paused in the doorway. “You know for sure, then? That it was a fae attack.”
He whirled on you, his brow pinching. “Of course, it was, Y/N. What else would…”
At first, you didn’t know what had caused his words to trail off.
That was, until you followed his line of sight. To where yours and Azriel’s empty glasses from earlier still sat on the bar. Devin turned back to you as you stiffened.
“Have you had company?” He asked.
“Of course not.” You answered too quickly. “One of the glasses was my father’s. He had a drink before he left for the festival.”
The Guard studied you. And you knew…you knew from the set of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes, that he didn’t believe what you’d said.
You lifted your chin. “I just hadn’t got round to clearing them away. I got engrossed in playing the piano.”
There was a moment’s silence. You waited for Devin to question you, to dispute your story. But then he smiled. “You and that piano.” He strode closer, and you stepped back, drawing him out of the bar area and back into the entryway.
“I’m done playing for the night.” You told him. “I’m tired. I think I’ll just go to bed.”
In other words — leave.
He stared at you, again, in that too-assessing way. And then he was stepping closer to you. “I understand.” He said. “I’m sorry if you feel like I barged my way in here. I just wanted to make sure that you’re safe. Because I care. You know that, don’t you?”
You pressed your back against the wall. “I know that.”
“Good.” A smile lifted half of his mouth. “Then I’ll not keep you any longer. Get some sleep.”
You didn’t think you breathed properly as he traipsed back over to the door and pulled it open. He turned at the threshold, glancing at you. “Don’t forget to bolt the door. You never know who could be lurking around.”
Surprisingly, you found yourself having to clamp down on your lips to stop a dangerous, hysterical giggle from crawling its way up your throat. You knew exactly who was lurking around. You forced your expression to stay neutral as you inclined your head.
“Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight.”
As soon as both his feet were out of the door, you couldn’t close it fast enough. You made a point of bolting it as loudly as possible, and pressed your back against its surface, waiting a beat, two.
After a few seconds, gravel crunched under Devin’s retreating feet. You blew out a deep breath.
Sudden awareness tickled the nape of your neck, and as quickly as Azriel had made himself disappear, he was materialising in front of you.
“Friend of yours?” He raised a dark eyebrow.
“Kind of…maybe. More of a customer, really.” Your eyes snagged on his lips. “He’s training to be a Village Guard. He came to check on me.”
Azriel’s gaze shot to the door, as though he could see right through it to Devin’s retreating figure. You weren’t sure you understood the expression that shaded his face.
“I got rid of him.” You said.
Hazel eyes dipped down to yours again, and a soft smile tugged at Azriel’s lips. “Still…perhaps we shouldn’t tempt the fates too much in one night. I should probably go…in case he comes back.”
Disappointment stormed you — even if you knew he was right. You’d enjoyed yourself so much tonight that you simply didn’t want it to end.
“I’ll be back.” Azriel promised, seeming to read your thoughts on your face. “I swear it. We’ll do this again.”
And you believed him. It was enough to satisfy you. You nodded eagerly. “I’d like that.”
“As would I.”
His fingers reached out, brushing some hair from your face. He studied you as he tucked the strands behind your ear. “Rest well.”
You knew they were parting words. And you were filled with one last injection of boldness, of confidence. You didn’t want him to disappear before you acted on it. His shadows were already coiling around him, seeming set to carry him away.
“Azriel,” you breathed his name, and he and the shadows halted.
He tilted his head inquisitively. And before you could talk yourself out of it, you pushed up onto the tips of your toes, capturing him in a kiss.
It wasn’t the hot, needy kiss he’d given you earlier — you weren’t quite confident enough to orchestrate such a thing. But its sweet, soft nature didn’t seem to bother him as he leaned into it, sliding a hand to the small of your back.
He kissed you gently, tenderly. And after only a couple of moments, he pulled away. A soft groan sounded in his chest, surprising you. “Do that, and I won’t have the willpower to do anything but stand here and kiss you all night.”
Your cheeks scorched, and you dipped your head, a soft laugh slipping past your lips. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. Not for that.” He leaned closer, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”
Soon. You really hoped so. You stepped back, giving him the space to leave before you did something stupid. Like kiss him again.
His mouth tipped up one last time into that beautiful smile, and then he was gone.
His taste wasn’t, though. It lingered in your mouth, on your skin.
You pressed your fingers to your swollen lips and smiled.
You slept well that night.
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
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