Meaercies - Tumblr Posts

@meaercies : ❛ be naked when i come home. ❜

he's unwavering with the command, all too casual as he picks invisible lint from his sleeve. as if he weren't just teasing the other seconds prior, adding fuel to his building desire — just to crush it with nothing more than a bored disposition, the fire in his gaze dying out, shoulders shrugging. he wouldn't make it easy for azriel, won't relinquish control without at least a challenge beforehand. " ah, that's cute. " he hums, tilting his head as a brow arches, amusement flickering onto his lips. " remind me, az ... since when do you make demands of your high lord? "

@meaercies : " for someone who was just dead, you seem remarkably relaxed. "

freshly risen from death, in the late hours of the night, rhysand finds solace in the sky. stars piercing the veil of black, flickering as if they were talking back to him, providing some sort of comfort he hadn't even known he needed. there's a list to be grateful for: the end of hybern, the hope of peace in prythian. a future, with his mate. truthfully, he never thought he'd make it this far. he knew his fate the moment the battle had begun, long before even then, that he would give every last bit of himself when it came down to it. so, death has been looming over him for quite some time. if he is living on borrowed time now, he plans on making the best of it.

rhysand notices azriel before he makes himself known. he could sense him masked in his shadows, in the destruction of war, and now he knows — even in death. a talent marked by centuries of friendship. " i'm unwinding, i suppose ... while i still can. i'm sure i will have a few hundred meetings in the upcoming days. " another glass of wine appears, as he shrugs, wings splaying out. " care to join me? "

nesta wasn't alright. she wasn't alright at all and she could barely recall the last time she had been. but when azriel began to approach her she felt an unusual shift in her spirit; followed by a surprising shift of her seat. the sudden movement, along with the serious, unyielding, look in his bronze eyes took her breath away - so much so that the lack of oxygen stole all the thoughts from her brain.

before she could find it in herself to just think, instinct kicked in and nesta closed the short distance between them, capturing his plush lips with her own. he really was the prettiest of the brothers, and she often found herself captivated by him - but never to this extent before.

in this moment of weakness she found herself unable to resist him; to resist the possibility of closeness and understanding that she so craved. instinctually, yet carefully, her fingertips travel from his jaw to the nape of his neck. she twines her fingers into his surprisingly silky hair, and becomes acutely aware of his breath as it mingles with her own in the same way his shadows merge with his surroundings.

with a sigh she manages to pull away - only slightly. the tip of her nose rests gently against his cheek and she keeps her eyes closed, nervous to discover his reaction.

"you won't tell anyone i did that -" it should be a statement. despite herself she has always found it easy to trust him; to find solace in the fact that he seems to be even more secretive than she is. but nerves turn it into a question. "will you?"

seconds pass. they feel like minutes. nesta becomes painfully aware of the way her heart pounds in the silence.

THUD, THUD, THUD.

it's the first time her new fae ears have honed in on just one noise. she finds herself opening her eyes to see that azriel's are closed. nesta purses her lips together and tries not to think about how his felt against hers. instead she finds herself fascinated by the shadows his eyelashes cast against his cheek. usually he's so alert - she's not entirely certain she's ever seen him blink - but with his eyes closed he seems younger somehow. softer than she is... despite what she knows about the role he plays in the night court.

guilt creeps in and she sits back in her chair, as far as she can despite being comfortably trapped by his strong frame.

"i'm sorry, i don't know why i -" a sigh. she licks her lower lip. bites it until it throbs with blood. "i shouldn't have been so forward." she nods decidedly, as if she's certain she's figured out what she suddenly feels so self conscious about her actions. as if it will stop her from repeating them.

❤ alright, i’ll bite @moondevoured | send ❤ to just grab my muse and kiss the HELL out of them. just do it.

" are you all right? " he asks, head tilted in curious wonder. she hasn't said more than two words the entire dinner that the house has prepared for them. it was just the two of them, everyone else gone or just tired of coming over to have neither azriel, nesta, nor cassian talking much. it has been a stressful few months but they've gotten through it the best they can.

azriel gets up from his seat on the other side of the large table and comes to pull her chair to face him. he doesn't care if she is angry with him. her entire form is now facing him and he gets on a knee to catch her eyes. azriel's head ducks and he catches her gaze, " hey, it's going to get better, Nesta. " he tells her, his scarred hands still on the arms of the dining room chair. azriel doesn't sense her in that moment and it's peculiar. how? how can he not? her hands are on him before he can think - her lips pressed hard to his full ones. they part in response to, well, her insistent and breathtaking kiss. hazel eyes flutter shut as he gives in, his knuckles white on the chair arms now.

as he moves away from her, nesta's heart continues to THUD with each measure step. she observes azriel's graceful movements as he makes his way back to his seat, as if nothing happened, and a new ache sets in. it crawls it's way up from her chest and settles into her teeth. she sucks her cheeks in, biting down on the flesh to as a momentary distraction.

of course he's right. she knows that she did it in part because she was seeking out something similar to the kind of relief she'd once found in taverns with other males. but this wasn't entirely the same. she was also seeking out safety - connection. she and azriel had created a quiet understanding of one another over the past few months, she thought, and his words seemed to confirm that.

so she didn't apologise again. but a question formed in her mind. did he enjoy their kiss (too short) as much as she had?

although she's tempted to stay just where she is, to give him the opportunity to return to that spot at her feet, she lifts her seat and returns it to it's original place. her keen gaze darts from his and she watches his hands as he picks up his fork and mirrors his actions, lifting her glass to her lips (where she can taste him still) just as carefully. she wonders if he was trained as she was - to always be on his best behaviour.

nesta is hardly meek - the thought makes her smile ever so slightly. but she supposes her response to what she's just done; the line she's just crossed, could be interpreted that way. what she is, is confused. for a brief moment she'd expected for him to be annoyed with her. she was so good at getting a rise out of everyone around her, with her reckless actions and crafted words. but not him.

"and what do you want, azriel?" it's a loaded question, and she's certain he must understand what she means. she has seen the care he has taken with her sisters. with all of them, but especially with elain. it's part of what has sparked her attraction to him - his unfaltering kindness to the person she loves the most.

it occurs to her just how twisted that may be, but she watches his features intently for an answer he may not give. "there must be plenty you want."

nesta wasn't alright. she wasn't alright at all and she could barely recall the last time she had been. but when azriel began to approach her she felt an unusual shift in her spirit; followed by a surprising shift of her seat. the sudden movement, along with the serious, unyielding, look in his bronze eyes took her breath away - so much so that the lack of oxygen stole all the thoughts from her brain.

before she could find it in herself to just think, instinct kicked in and nesta closed the short distance between them, capturing his plush lips with her own. he really was the prettiest of the brothers, and she often found herself captivated by him - but never to this extent before.

in this moment of weakness she found herself unable to resist him; to resist the possibility of closeness and understanding that she so craved. instinctually, yet carefully, her fingertips travel from his jaw to the nape of his neck. she twines her fingers into his surprisingly silky hair, and becomes acutely aware of his breath as it mingles with her own in the same way his shadows merge with his surroundings.

with a sigh she manages to pull away - only slightly. the tip of her nose rests gently against his cheek and she keeps her eyes closed, nervous to discover his reaction.

"you won't tell anyone i did that -" it should be a statement. despite herself she has always found it easy to trust him; to find solace in the fact that he seems to be even more secretive than she is. but nerves turn it into a question. "will you?"

seconds pass. they feel like minutes. nesta becomes painfully aware of the way her heart pounds in the silence.

THUD, THUD, THUD.

it's the first time her new fae ears have honed in on just one noise. she finds herself opening her eyes to see that azriel's are closed. nesta purses her lips together and tries not to think about how his felt against hers. instead she finds herself fascinated by the shadows his eyelashes cast against his cheek. usually he's so alert - she's not entirely certain she's ever seen him blink - but with his eyes closed he seems younger somehow. softer than she is... despite what she knows about the role he plays in the night court.

guilt creeps in and she sits back in her chair, as far as she can despite being comfortably trapped by his strong frame.

"i'm sorry, i don't know why i -" a sigh. she licks her lower lip. bites it until it throbs with blood. "i shouldn't have been so forward." she nods decidedly, as if she's certain she's figured out what she suddenly feels so self conscious about her actions. as if it will stop her from repeating them.

azriel takes his time to respond. from another it would infuriate her to wait on an answer about anything at all, yet she respects the careful way he crafts his words, making each one count. on this occassion his thoughtfulness certainly has an impact on her. it's evident in the slight shift in her posture, allowing her to lean in closer so that she can hang off of his every word; utterly enraptured by the minute shifts in his soulful gaze.

"the shadow singer likes to be surprised?" she murmurs as if to herself and tilts her head as she regards him. the curiosity in her movement is feline in nature. nesta had never particularly liked to be surprised, herself. often the surprises she faced were laced with very little happiness, and even when they were intended to be joyful she could find a way to discover discomfort. but this interaction of theirs was a rare revelation.

the eldest archeron had always harboured a natural curiosity where azriel was concerned (anybody would) but she had managed to keep it at bay - until now. until the AUDACITY she'd had when she'd pressed her lips to his for just a few brief moments had broken a barrier between them. she's aware that they're venturing into dangerous territory for a lot of reasons, but finding her way back to mere civility isn't anywhere near as alluring as he is when he tells her that she's given him what he wants.

nesta attempts to keep her expression neutral, but the way she sucks in a breath and the shift in her scent would be more than enough to betray her response to even the most mundane of males. it's too little too late when she forces herself to sit back in her seat and cross her legs the way a lady should, but it's her only defence from the urge to climb across the table and do something even more reckless.

the allure of those words, she already knew, would echo in her head for days to come and visit her in her dreams. she can't help but think that she could give him a lot more of his desires - if only he'd ask.

in the very depths of her mind she wonders if he's working some unknown magic on her. if he is, she welcomes it.

"what is it about surprises, azriel? do they give you a thrill?" the question could be innocent, if not for the way her tongue lingers on the final word. her mood from before is far from cured, but each moment of their flirtation is a blissful distraction from the misery they've been sharing.

HE HAS TO PRETEND, DOESN'T HE? she does not want a piece of him nor what he has to offer. at least that's the lie he's going to tell himself at the table, unable to look at any part of her but her hands. she has grown so much under the watchful care of the inner circle - oh, no, wait - perhaps just azriel and cassian themselves. the rest deems her too untouchable. if they only knew the demons that screeched at night for the shadowsinger, they may never touch him again either.

it must be what brings them together and keeps them held close. the darkness there, the lost. and the sheer loneliness of being a weapon. they were weapons, meant for destruction. azriel wanted to believe flowers would grow in his wake but it just .. wasn't. it would never be - beauty did not come from his ashes.

their underground tether was loose, unsure, and she just pulled it all the tighter.

azriel says nothing in those moments, listening but not reacting. does he ever? the silence pulses around him, shadows surrounding. hazel eyes flick up with her voice, scarred fingers playing with the fork in his hands. and what do you want, azriel?

what did he want? sometimes he felt so empty that anything would suffice. no one had asked him in years what he wanted. they all just assumed what would be best for him or that he didn't want at all. everyone assumed because he was so powerful that he couldn't be challenged or women had to fawn instead of fight him. azriel thrives on the challenge. " i want to be surprised. " azriel's low voice echoes out then, his eyes meeting her gray-blue ones. he is rarely ever surprised. almost never. the only person that has ever been able to has been rhysand. and now nesta.

he does not and will not ever shy away from her gaze - rough or not. her words never wound him.

" looks like i got what i wanted. "

@meaercies — ❛ keep reading , i want to see how long you last . ❜

“and how am i supposed to concentrate when you keep making my eyes roll to the back of my head?” a soft laugh laces its way through her words, and she’s too breathless to mention that the pleasure he’s inflicting upon her is making her body shiver and shake in response - so much so that she can barely keep a grip on the hardback.

but the timbre in his voice inspires her to be compliant to his will, and nesta grips the book harder, until the edge is digging into her collar bone and her knuckles are bleached white from the effort. her free hand travels down her torso, and she curls her fingers into azriel’s locks tenderly; a useless attempt to ground herself. her silvered eyes flit down to his. she looks away just as quickly, certain that the sight of him will be her undoing.

“when you’re quite finished TORTURING me, it’s my turn..." if the attention he was paying to the sweet spot beneath her thighs wasn’t enough, the thought of returning the favour caused nesta’s hips to lift impossibly closer to his perfect face. "and when you’re pressed against the back of my throat i expect you to tell me how you learned to do this so well. in detail.”

nesta had always believed that she liked the neutral way in which azriel regarded her. his hazel eyes were forever searching, but she'd quickly noticed that it was simply the way he watched everyone around him. if she'd liked the way he looked at her before, then she loved the way he beheld her now. azriel's eyes had almost DARKENED ENTIRELY, his shadowy stare leaving only a hint of honey. it's easily one of the most delicious things she had ever set her sights upon.

"you cannot hide what you feel from me..."

the way that he describes it is so simple, yet it makes her feel as though she too is now aching to be surprised. and for a moment she is. she finds herself surprised by just how tempting that sounds. she has spent so much of her life running from her emotions that now fury is the only one she feels comfortable embracing. the promise of another recognising the whirlpool within her, without her needing to vocalise it, is oddly enticing.

once again she lifts her drink to her lips, refusing to break his stare for even a second as she sets the glass down and lifts herself from her seat. graceful fingertips reach for her shoulders and she's thankful that she chose to slip into a dress after bathing. it is so much easier to slip out of than illyrian leathers. within seconds the silky material gathers at her ankles, and she stands tall, expression remaining aloof - at least, it would if her eyes weren't shining bright with mischief.

"i suppose you knew that i was going to do that?" while she hopes that baring herself did catch him off guard, her main interest is in getting a rise out of him in one way or another. "tell me, azriel. what do you think i'll do next?"

EVERY WORD HE SPEAKS IS INDEED: THOUGHT ABOUT AND DELICATELY CRAFTED. everything he says is said with intent and purpose - a drop of a rock in a pool of water. impactful. deep. he knows she feels the weight and hears it in his tone. the way she's leaning closer proves it. azriel can see the shift in her.

" in a world of eternity where nothing can surprise me.. yes. i enjoy being surprised. " he tells her, the prongs of his fork tapping the side of his plate. once. twice. the cling echoes in his ears and in the space of the dining room. his head cocks to the side, studying her like predator to prey. there is a simple curiosity there, too.

he knows he is always shrouded in mystery. most run from it, being afraid of what is unseen in the darkness. the mind makes up terrible truths when the eyes cannot compute what is in the unknown. lies. wicked lies. it's what makes azriel and rhysand terrifying - the unknown. it is the fear inside the wicked hollowness that accompanies the dark.

the shift in her body language and scent blows his pupils, the golden ring of his irises now thin. if his gaze wasn't predatory before, it is now. the illyrian is far from the brutes in the camps but he is also just that: an instinctual male. she is not his but she has already sparked something from the press of her lips to his. he has been fighting it since he rounded the table and attempted to eat. yet has he taken a bite? has he even entertained the meal?

the way her tongue lingers on the end of thrill has him wondering what she can do with said body part. perhaps those books she reads have taught her a worthwhile skill. he pointedly says nothing for a few moments, his gaze locking with hers. his voice is low, cool. it is silk and threat. " what i am leaves no room for surprises. i cannot be snuck up upon. you cannot hide what you feel from me. so when someone surprises me by their actions without me picking up on it first, i welcome it. " azriel pauses, " you kissing me was a want but a last minute decision. your emotions conveyed something far different than what you did. it, in turn, surprised me. it is not often, if ever, that i am surprised in such a way, nesta archeron. "

@meaercies — ‘you know i love you, right?’

they’ve been sitting in silence for so long that the skies have shifted from a hazy swirl of pinks and purples to an INKY BLACK NIGHT; the two of them as silent as the moon above. as she read her book beneath the faelights, her only reminder that azriel was right beside her had been the warmth from his body, and the occasional touch as they shifted to find more comfort. at some point in the evening she had found their fingers tangled together, and when her book had finally sunk it's teeth into her, she began to swirl gentle patterns against scarred knuckles - the speed of the motions a silent symphony that matched the pace of the plot. nesta had been doing just that when his voice broke the reverie, and his words stilled her hand; stilled her entire being.

“what do you mean, azriel?” she asks him in a measured voice, daring to glance at him. but she knows exactly what it means; feels it too. she also feels nauseas all of a sudden, as her mind travels through all of the moments that have bought them to this one.

the first time nesta scented a male’s arousal it had overwhelmed her senses; she had never known anything like it - the change in the air had been so strong that she thought she might just choke. she had never known anything like it since, but even so it was unmistakable. the change in azriel’s scent is almost subtle. it flows from him in waves of sweet musk and salt. despite herself she inhales, and a shiver dances down her spine; paints a pattern of goosebumps up her arms. 

she presses her thighs together, instinctually searching for friction, but she’s watching the way he observes her body attentively enough to know that he will notice the movement. knows he would have noticed even if her eyes weren’t locked on his features in fascination. her pulse is pounding in her ears so loudly that she’s certain she wouldn’t have been able to comprehend his words if she were still human, but she makes no attempt to steady her breath. azriel may not know what she’ll do next (neither does she) but he already knows how she feels, and she isn’t interested in hiding it. perhaps she should be.

“i do have limits,” she assures him, surprised to find her voice so calm, her gait so steady as she moves around the table. her fingertips trace the wood as she turns the corner in an effort to keep herself steady if she does lose her nerve. she’s far from prudish and hasn’t been for a long time. she’s certain he’s heard tales about it, but she wants him to know that what she’s doing is different to what she’s done in the past; even if she can’t put her finger on why that is. “but i have less of them when i feel SAFE.”

her words act as an admission to herself, and she realises that’s what keeps her stalking towards him. usually she’d be mortified to admit something like that, but like she said: she feels safe. her rational mind knows that she should stop, that she’s taken it too far already, but she can’t. 

finally, she pauses before him, and for a moment she considers mirroring his actions from earlier and turning his chair towards her. but she doesn’t. she’s fairly certain that it wouldn’t be as smooth as it was when he did it; as attractive. the strength she has now often surprises her, but she knows it isn’t enough to take that much control... that she’d only embarrass herself in the process. so she embraces gentleness. her fingertips find his jaw once again, and she leans in closer to press her lips to the corner of his mouth.

“you told me that you like to be surprised, and i think you deserve to enjoy a lot more of the things you like...” her eyes meet his and there’s a rare hint of honesty in them. without breaking her gaze she presses another kiss to the opposite corner of his mouth… another to his jaw… and finally to his throat, where she lingers. “so tell me what else you like.”

there she goes again, surprising him. the feeling, the emotion, rolling off of the new-fae is intriguing. it's as if she's screaming one thing but yet .. is not exactly giving in? the shadows around him whisper of her intentions, her wants. what her body says it desires. he keeps himself as neutral as she usually sees him. azriel is on a tight leash and keeps himself that way for good, real measure.

when she rises from her seat in a graceful, fluid movement... azriel does wonder what she's going to do next. what he can feel from her is boldness, determination.. it's all that is shining through. her eyes - those silver, dangerous things, - shine brighter than any moon. she is the sun. a mischievous sun. how burnt will he get? his answer comes as she uses quick fingers to slide her dress to the floor. the soft whoosh of the fabric causes such a reaction inside of himself. he does not react outwardly.

dark eyes flick to her beautiful, cold features now glowing with attraction. if she's learned anything about scent and phremones, she'd surely pick him up in a heartbeat. he's letting himself be caught. if this is a game - he's a master player.

azriel allows his eyes to take in the planes and curves of her body, his eyes lingering at her breasts - pointedly. a pink tongue comes to wet his full lips, then click off his teeth. his gaze finds hers once more after he's had a purposely long look. " i didn't know you were going to do that. " he says finally, his low voice smooth like velvet night. the darkness pulses around him and he sits back into his chair, contemplating her next sentence. " you're determined to surprise me - and you have, surprisingly, twice now. i'm beginning to wonder if you have no limits... or at least not the limits i perceived you having. " he tells her, scarred fingers lacing together over his lap, his elbows on the arm rests. " i cannot read your mind, unfortunately. my particular set of gifts do not extend that far. so why don't you show me? "

BEFORE SUNRISE (1995) dir. Richard Linklater

nesta is rarely quick to compliment others — instead, she holds onto her kindest thoughts and buries them deep. nurtures affection and stifles it all at once by refusing to let it see the light of day. but her system is yet to acclimate to fae wine. it makes her light-headed, soft-hearted, and completely diminishes her defences. she should stop drinking, she thinks, until she notices the glow across the shadowsingers cheeks and her thoughts go quiet. the eldest archeron rises to his compliment, like a cat arching their back to a caring hand, but it is what she'd expect. he has never been anything short of polite in her presence.

" don't look so surprised, azriel. people - fae - must tell you how handsome you are all the time. " she's so certain of it, and yet she realises he lacks the ARROGANCE of rhysand ( or even cassian ) in a way that makes her wonder. " — and if they don't, i will... even the oldest of the gods would have envied your face. "

hazel hues slide to find the eldest archeron staring up at him in pure wonder. her own stormy gaze is clouded; he knows it's the wine. azriel has been standing near the door for at least ten minutes, enjoying the party from afar. he can hear mor laugh, the gasp of feyre when rhys says something scandalous, and the clink of amren stealing another golden candlestick holder.

❛  god ,  you’re  beautiful -  ❜ / | @moondevoured

the comment has his brows raising, he's not expecting her to say something about his appearance. he's so used to being invisible that when someone lingers too long in wonder, he wonders why. heat licks up the back of his neck and kisses his cheeks. he's a bit flustered now. " thank you. " his voice is velvety smooth, low, but a hint of gravel accompanies it. his piercing gaze finds her once more, " but you are the absolute vision of beauty tonight, lady. "

nesta’s touch pauses on an emerald dress, and she finds herself passing her fingers through the chiffon absentmindedly; now focused entirely on azriel's words, and the way her lips curl into a smile in response as if his own are lingering on her skin. there’s no place she’d rather be than in bed with azriel - her desire plays a large role in her procrastination to get ready. against her better judgement she glances over her shoulder, craving a glimpse of what she’d be getting herself into if she submits to his request. it’s enough to draw a moan from her lips; the sight of him. muscled marble and the promise of sin ( although it only ever feels like a blessing ) draws her in like the call of a dark angel. 

“ are we certain you don’t have any incubus ancestry? it’s beginning to feel that way. ” she turns on her heel but finds herself determined to remain strong. refuses to let herself move another inch despite the urge to close the distance, to caress his wings and taste his skin. nesta rolls her eyes at the thought; she’s only teasing herself. “ let me rephrase... is there anything you'd like to help me remove later? ” 

azriel's head pops up from the pillow he had been resting on just moments before. curling, dark hair falls into his golden eyes as he watches her at her large, overflowing wardrobe. gowns are tucked neatly but it's apparent she needs more space - if not now, then soon. either she hasn't asked for it or doesn't see a need for it. the shadowsinger sits up then, wings splaying to stretch along with corded muscles. a sheet still covers his middle and he's sitting on the mattress like some sort of nightmarish angel.

❛  wanna  help  me  choose  something  to  wear ?  ❜ | @moondevoured

" not particularly, no. " he says smoothly, his words caressing her like a lover's touch. there is play in the words he speaks to her - he will always help her pick out something to wear, if that is what she wishes. " i would prefer it if you came back to bed. " there's a small tug on the side of his lips.

Quiet time in the library

nesta looks him up and down as he approaches, just once, as if her interest in his form is only casual. it is compared to the way she's swept up by the sound of his laughter; it calls to her like a song from her childhood — one that she'll never tire of hearing. less torture. she wonders about that for a moment... what it would look like, if it's something he'd ever want, if he let himself. but curiosity evaporates once he's in her orbit again. instinctively she takes another step closer, turning just a fraction to glance at the dress he's picked. of course with his attention to detail he has an eye for fashion. although she's never worn the dress, she can already envision how it will look; the way it will embellish every curve and contour, the deep plunge of the neckline. 

"i don't recall saying anything about ripping. in fact i was thinking of something more methodical… RITUALISTIC, even.” the words are laced with a smirk, one meant to hide the thrill she finds in being given a list of what he likes about her... that her sharp tongue ranks among them. it would be enough to bring her to tears on a bad day - but it’s decidedly good. the sound of azriel's laughter still echoes in her ears, laced with his compliments. they reverberate through her like an orchestra. she wants to say to hell with whatever it is they’re supposed to be doing in the hewn city in just a few short hours (wanted to say to hell with it regardless) but she resists. runs her fingers along midnight silk thoughtfully.

“i don’t care if we ruin every last one of them.” there was a time when she would have. it wasn’t so long ago that would daydream about the jewels she’d one day adorn herself with. the things she cares about now are infinitely more important, and occupy her thoughts in far more interesting ways. “— but if you like this one so much perhaps we should be more careful. hike it up instead of tearing it off... or keep the remnants for other uses.” 

he watches her fingers still on the dress, its emerald color sparkling in the light of day from the window. he can feel her mood even with her back turned to him. the fact he delighted her brings a smirk to his beautiful face. when she glances back, he catches her gaze and holds it. his head tilts in a predatory manner. the whole look is thrown to the wind when she speaks. laughter, true laughter, erupts from him as he throws his head back. " no, i don't believe so. i think i would have to resort to less torture if that were an option. " less torture, less blood. azriel slides from the bed, unashamed in his nudity before her. he casually walks to her, reaching past her to move a few of the dresses. " if i'm to rip you from the dress, choose one that you don't care to ruin. " he speaks to her standing below him, and pulls out a dress of midnight blue, low cut. azriel admires the fabric and craftsmanship. such a pity if he tears the seams. " i do not wish to objectify you, because it is your mind, wit, and sharp tongue that fuels my desire for you, nesta, but this one... "

so he has noticed. her eyes flit across his face, from his strong brow, to cheekbones so sharp they just may draw blood if she dared to touch, down to his full lips and back (very quickly back) to his. it’s her turn now to blush, but she sinks her teeth into the inside of her cheek for a few moments – encouraging the blood to rush anywhere but the surface of her skin. it’s nearly impossible when the low thrum of his voice seems to nestle against her flesh, warming her from within. 

“yes,” she tells him, with a slight tilt of her head. “you’re one of the few things here that i don’t loathe to look at, so when you’re in my line of sight i simply enjoy the moment.” it’s an understatement of his beauty; of velaris’ beauty too. she turns her eyes up towards the silver lit skies and across the sidra to the glow of warm homes in the distance. in truth it’s a place full of beauty and peace, but she isn’t. witnessing it whilst sober reminds her of how little she belongs, so she tries not to look. instead she takes another sip of her wine, her expression bordering on smug. she relishes in feeling like she can reveal her thoughts to azriel without them travelling. at least, she doesn’t think he’ll repeat them. he’s a spy, not a busy body.

“and what are you doing over here, all alone? surely not waiting for me to argue with you about who out of the two of us is the prettiest.” 

there is heat in his gaze when she speaks but it is quickly masked and snuffed out. how is she able to sneak past his walls like this? perhaps she is not sneaking at all, but merely knocking and he allows her entry without thought. dangerous. such a dangerous thing.

" i don't go searching for it, nesta. " he speaks low, the goblet in his own hand barely drank out of. azriel then takes a long pull of it - he knows he's going to need it. " and just because i know i'm the most beautiful of my brothers doesn't mean when a beautiful women tells me i am, i still do not react. " a small ghost of a smirk takes his full lips, though it's over as soon as it began. " is this why you look upon me so often? "

the feel of azriel’s shadows on her back draws a soft gasp from nesta’s lips. although she has always been curious about them, she has never looked at them for long. only in passing when his back had been turned to her. it was one of the few things she thought may offend him – she never imagined she’d one day feel them on her skin. she didn’t know they could reach out and touch. the sensuous lick of now tangible air against her skin makes her body shiver and sing, but she doesn’t hesitate to follow their lead as they guide her into his lap. with just the slightest roll of her hips against his she settles there, vaguely aware that if he’d been able to sense her before, he must be able to feel her now; the arousal molten between her thighs. 

finally his hands are on her, his lips caressing her jaw help her to loose a sigh of relief. all at once she wants him in a way that borders on desperation, but also knows that she’d be content to stay like this for hours, azriel’s lips trailing dizzying kisses along her skin. it feels innocent somehow but she knows it’s anything but; that at some point this evening he’ll be inside her. she rocks her hips once again in a more deliberate attempt to feel him and rests her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, but it doesn’t take long for one to travel down his forearm. her fingers curl around his wrist and she lifts his digits to her mouth, kissing his fingertip before sucking it between her lips with a soft hum. it turns to a short burst of laughter when he calls her little witch, the name from his lips taking her by surprise.

“does that mean you want me to work my magic on you, azriel?” she murmurs playfully, eyes transfixed on his dark head of hair as she moves to swirl her tongue around a second digit. her own fingertips trail from his shoulder and travel the contours of his torso, and she pushes at the hem of his shirt to finally make contact with his flesh, her nails graze the skin with equal measure of confidence and care. “— you’ll have to ask me nicely if you do.” it’s nesta’s way of giving him an out - if he wants one - although she can’t help herself from nipping at his thumb as she watches him carefully from beneath lust hooded eyes; focused now more than ever on keeping her hips still. she's all too aware that they've already passed the point of no return (at least, for her they have) but she trusts azriel's judgement more than her own; wants him to have the final say.

he's more than apt at hiding his scent but chooses not to in this moment. he wants her to know, wants her to feel satisfaction at what she can do to even the strongest of warriors. giving back power to some that feel powerless - not that she is. she never has been, with those sharp looks and vicious tongue. and now she is something amplified - something much more powerful than ever before.

safe. safe was a word he grasped onto. she felt safe with him, which was not unusual but yet so. he very much doubted anyone felt safe around him on the receiving end of his fury but reserved for those he loved? he was fiercely loyal and protective. and she felt safe with him, which meant she also felt seen, heard, and protected. oddly, that warm feeling also flooded through to his desire to show her truly how safe she was under his watch.

every movement is noticed and noted by him; from how she looks and admires all of his features to how she shifts on her chair, wanting more of what they've started. when he fingertips trace the wood of the table when she moves, he can hear it.

azriel can feel her anticipation, the want for his reactions. he rarely has them but he also wants to please her as badly as she wants to surprise him. he allows his head to turn, her fingers on his jawline. her lips on the corner of his mouth has them perking, a funny little look upon his dark features. her kisses are soft but make a strong point. the one to his throat has his pulse quickening. should he tell her that was something he liked? perhaps she already knows. his shadows, like little wisps of smoke, dance slowly around her nude form and sensually move about her. he can feel her body without actually feeling her, though he wants to put his hands on her. was this permission? he turns his chair. azriel's scarred fingers find her chin and hazel eyes lock. his thumb rolls her bottom lip once and his own full lips part, " i like that you feel safe with me. " he tells her, his shadows pushing upon her back to guide her up, and then into his lap. his hands do touch her now, around her waist. his face turns, his lips caressing her jawline. " i think i'll like anything you give me, little witch."

nesta hums thoughtfully and leans back into his touch; as aware of his presence behind her as he must be of his shadows. before she can settle into him completely she hooks the dress onto the wardrobe door haphazardly. her eyes remain trained on it, yet it’s all but forgotten. she’s focused instead on his touch, the warmth of his hands on her stomach, and the thoughtful quiet between his words as she rests her arms atop his, her fingertips caressing his forearms. the gentleness of the moment makes her wish they were positioned in front of a mirror. nesta wants to see the way he looks draped over her – in more ways than one.

“hmm no, i don’t recall saying that… not at first, anyway.” a smile dances on her features and she turns to press her lips to his temple, before staring ahead again. his next words have her breathing out a soft laugh, but the sound stops abruptly when he presses his lips to her ear, the tickling sensation makes her unusually serious.

“is that all you’re thinking about? how you’ll have your way with me next?” she knows it isn’t, and so she keeps her tone light. for the most part she’s figured out when there’s words left unsaid. as far as she’s concerned, azriel is entitled to his secrets, but on this occasion she’s curious to know more about what he’s thinking. if he’s willing to share. “— don’t worry, i wasn’t planning on wearing anything underneath.” she adds, flirtation lacing her tone as a reminder that she won’t push if he doesn’t want to discuss it – that she’s content to continue with this dance if it’s what he’d prefer. 

AZRIEL'S FINGERS STILL GRAZE THE GLITTERING FABRIC. the silver stitching on the midnight fabric is absolutely beautiful. he wonders if he could find a jacket with the same stitching - or would that possibly be too forward? matching. he shakes it from his mind as his scarred hand drops from the fabrics of all colors and styles. yet it does not leave. they definitely should not stand out at all in a place as depraved as hewn city but it would send a message. was he getting territorial again?

" you all but said i would ruin it. " he tells her, his arms snaking around her middle. azriel leans down to place his chin upon her shoulder, his hulking form almost surrounding her. he watches her hand run over the fabric, wishing it was his own skin again. azriel knows she loves her items - dresses, baubles, books, jewels - and he will always try first not to ruin what is hers.. but he cannot always have control. she encourages and teases until he's shaking with losing the control and cool he has almost all of the time. nesta unleashes something in him that he has clamped down for so many years. " i will try not to ruin them all.. you'll just have to beat me to the room to undress when we get back. " there's a playful hint in his low, monotonous voice. " if we're not back.." his head turns slightly, his full lips touching her pointed ear, " don't wear anything underneath it and i won't have to ruin anything. "

amusement lights her eyes at his unexpected comment, the beginnings of a laugh catching in her throat in a way that makes her scoff, and surprise is evident on her features when turns to face him once more. in her first few meetings with the shadowsinger nesta had been under the impression that he was simply reserved; or perhaps unusually shy for somebody with centuries beneath their belt. she realises now that he’s brooding. it isn't necessarily unattractive, but if she was trying to entice him in any way before, that instinct has been forgotten. “it’s probably good sense to be disgusted by the scent of excited males. we should all be so lucky.” 

she takes another sip of the syrupy wine and closes her eyes to steady herself from the haze that keeps setting in while it warms her. normally she’s on high alert in these situations, focused entirely on avoiding conversation with any male who may take an interest in her as if she’s nothing more than a shiny trinket. but with azriel and his borderline scowling face by her side, she’s confident none will approach. in the momentary darkness she realises that an emotion is rolling from him that she can’t quite place, but it does feel familiar; it reminds her an awful lot of how she felt before arriving at the party this evening. how she had only made an appearance to get feyre and elain off her back for a few more weeks. hours have passed, surely that’s enough of her time to satisfy them until the next time they deem her presence necessary. 

silver eyes re-open, and she attempts to focus them once more. they follow azriel’s gaze across the room, and although his eyes don’t linger on her, it’s easy to notice that he looks at mor for a few seconds longer than anybody else. at the male ( plain, by fae standards ) who draws a rich laugh from the beautiful blonde. there’s a history there that she’s only scratched the surface of - but it’s none of her business. all that she knows has been pieced together from what she’s been told over the last few months. for a brief moment she wonders if he does still have feelings for her, then promptly realises that it’s an awfully long time to be in love with somebody. whatever the emotion is in his eyes, longing or otherwise, nesta thinks it would be nice for somebody to look at her like that. she remembers then that somebody does. just as quickly she pushes the thought away. 

“you’re the prettiest, i win. my prize is that we’re leaving... has my sister mentioned that i need a chaperone? we can argue about something else while we walk.” 

the way her eyes dart across his face, he can clearly see she's mapping him. perhaps she's tucking it all into memory for a later session of viewing. maybe she doesn't want to forget. or maybe she's just never gotten close enough to truly see him for what he is. shadow or illyrian? male or monster? his eyes watch her now, noticing the color of her stormy eyes and the slight furrow of her brow when she focuses. parted, pillowed lips that appear soft enough to kiss or lay upon. it's his nature to observe but it is not his nature to fantasize. that's all want to.

" good to know. " azriel comments, glancing off into the distance where people are dancing, eating, and drinking. it appears he has no interest in the fae in front of him but his shadows sneak teasing twirls toward her that say otherwise. he's not going to speak of her secrets - it's also in his nature to keep them until death calls him home. he's trusting in the fact that whatever he says is also trapped with her until death. the amount of high fae and beings in this one space has had him edging toward the door all night. dancing was something he actually partakes in but tonight he's not drunk enough. he's simply not in the mood. it doesn't help that a male has been all over mor all night and she hasn't pushed him away once - on purpose. azriel doesn't hold a candle for her anymore but the fact everyone thinks he does makes him irritable.

" i'm over here alone because the smell of arousal makes me nauseous. " stars reflect upon golden eyes as he flicks his gaze to hers once more, his statement blunt and to the point, " at least, the smell of male. " he turns to her and a brow lifts, " but i'm in enough of a mood to argue, if you'd like to. " azriel pauses, " unless we're not going to argue at all because we both know you'll win. "

the way he turns her feels like the crescendo of a dance, and her heart soars just the same as when she’s spinning when he kisses her. she could spend the entire day kissing him; the week too, until her lips and chapped and bloody from being entwined with his. even then she isn’t certain she’d tire of it. luckily for the two of them, azriel has the good sense to know when to pull away, but the combination of the look in his eyes and the sincerity in his words hitches her breath as she tries to catch it. nesta drinks in his features once again, her fingers splaying against each side of his neck and her thumbs smoothing across his strong jaw.

how does she look at him? she wonders. like she's hungry, she's fairly certain of it.

“that’s fortunate,” she murmurs, eyes travelling his features as if she’s trying to commit each one to memory, before settling on his honeyed gaze. “because i love looking at you… and not only because you’re as beautiful as you are.” she loves that when she looks at him it settles the feeling of unrest that often knots itself in her stomach, she loves that there’s never any judgement in his eyes; only understanding - sometimes the desire to. and if she’s truly honest with herself she loves that she can see the devotion he speaks of in his eyes from time to time. she feels seen by him in a way that she never has before, and it soothes and stimulates her all at once.

“— i love the way you look at me, too.” she tells him simply, lips pursing with the effort not to say more as her palms travel to his chest - as if to fix a tie that isn't there.

the silence between them, the unspoken words, hang there. there is nothing but them, their breathing, and his hands on her stomach - holding her. they remain this way for a few moments. azriel wishes he could bottle the feeling of pure content he feels with nesta so close to him in his arms. the serenity that permeates.

her soft voice breaks through and he can't help but smile when she kisses his temple. " it's not - but how can my thoughts not travel there frequently? " azriel asks, his soft puffs of breath tickling her ear again. " especially when i simply want to show my devotion to you... and it just so happens to be physical some of the time. " he turns her then in his arms so he can hold her face in his hands and kiss her. it is soft, not rushed, and he lets it linger for as long as its supposed to. their eyes meet and something soft holds azriel's features. " i love the way you look at me. "

@meaercies — “I’ve got you”

nesta has been utterly silent since they returned to velaris. even during their flight she didn't make a sound — and she usually has an endless list of complaints to share while they're airborne. despite her silence he's been reminding her of the fact all the way: "i've got you."

more than anything, more than the dull ache of her freshly bruised ribs, or the pressure of blood rushing to her torn skin, it's the shame that pains her the most. so much so that she can't bring herself to meet azriel's eyes. instead she watches intently as he soaks a wash cloth and presses it to her neck so gently that she barely winces. follows his scarred hands as he soaks it again, staining the water a pretty shade of pink. before he can continue, nesta curls her fingers around his wrist, her smoke kissed eyes still trained on the bloody water.

"you don't need to do this, az... i should have known better."