deal me in

by pinkbbyy

Summary:

Azriel liked Eris this way, he supposed, when he was too focused on the game at hand to bother masking his expressions with a cold sneer or a haughty word. He looked briefly at the red-headed male over the top of his cards, watching as his amber eyes flicked between the table and his own hand, artfully spread between graceful fingers.

At least he wasn’t terrible to look at.

***

a.k.a. Azriel realises that some people flirt by being mean

Chapter 1

Azriel would have loved to say he was out here, the frigid wind sapping strength from his wings with each beat, out of the goodness of his heart. Love for his people and care for the tenuous peace across Prythian should be at the forefront of his motivations.

Feyre, he mused as he spiralled in a slow descent towards the figure on the mountainside, would be a better match here. She would say those things and truly mean them. She, of course, knew when to talk and when to listen, when it was time for a snarky remark to break the tension, and when a friend needed nothing more but a quiet presence to rely on.

Feyre was also the reason he really was here. Rhys, too. They were exhausting themselves balancing a toddler and a court in their hands, and it had taken little more than a pleading glance for him to relent and agree. And yet as he alighted on the ground, crushed gravel smoothed over by a layer of ice beneath his boots, he cursed them soundly.

The figure came into sharp focus, posture tight and tall. Tension played across their shoulder blades. Azriel stood for a moment, contemplating whether he should make his presence known, when the figure sighed, shoulders dropping and turned in towards the mountain – towards Azriel. A brief moment of shock flashed across his face, before it loosened into a sharp grin as the High Lord of the Autumn Court turned to face him properly.

 

‘Nice of you to finally arrive, Azriel.’

‘Eris.’, Azriel said, conceding little more than a brief dip of his head. It was a strange thing to see him here. The jewel tones of his coat seemed stark against the grey slate and white patina of early winter, and his burnished copper hair flashed in the glare of the afternoon sun. Half a thought sent his shadows scattering, some scaling the side of the mountain, some wending their way curiously towards the prickly, angular male.

‘I’ve been here a while, you know. I can’t say I hoped to spend my afternoon standing about in the cold, shadowsinger, though I wouldn’t be surprised if you left me to freeze to death.’, Eris drawled. ‘Might we enter? Or is it some perverted Illyrian tradition, to leave your guests on the doorstep for a few hours while you flit about in the sky?’

Azriel fought a scowl. A few moments in his presence, and he wanted to strangle the primping bastard. There wasn’t a chance in Hel that Eris had been here for more than than a few minutes – any longer, and he would have winnowed back to the Autumn Court to wait in comfort. Never mind that he was an ally now; never mind that Mor had long since explained away the tangled web of truths and deception which had led to her mangled body let lay in the Autumn Court’s borders; and never mind that Azriel had been working closely with Eris to maintain peace now Beron was dead. The irritable, beautifully cold male was a piece of rutting work.

Azriel deigned not to rise to the rather obvious bait, instead narrowly avoiding shouldering the High Lord as he stalked towards the smooth rock of the mountain stretching impossibly far above his head. Eris snorted behind him. A brief scan and he had located the divot, Siphon flaring as blue light curled into the stone, outlining a rectangle just larger than a regular doorway.

As he worked, Azriel ran his mind over their task ahead. The newly appointed High Lord was to accompany him to find and destroy an incursion of naga terrorising isolated Illyrian towns. Within a few moments, his shadows returned, advising him of the presence of two smoke hounds prowling out of sight around the crumbling mountain path. Good – Eris had stuck to that part of the bargain, at least – he would be using them to help track the monsters settled somewhere within this section of the Illyrian mountains.

 

The Autumn Court was working with the Night Court as a show of good faith following the death of Beron Vanserra and the subsequent crowning of his oldest son. Why the new High Lord felt the need to attend to this matter himself was unclear, though Azriel would bet anything he had just wanted an outlet for some of the stress of his new title. That outlet, unfortunately for him, seemed to be Eris’s favourite hobby of recent times: needling Azriel into an outburst.

The mountain groaned, rock grinding against itself as the newly apparent door swung out towards Azriel. A quick step back and he hit something solid. Eris, it seemed, had gotten closer, and now stood behind Azriel, half-heartedly batting away the sharp talon of his wings. He did not make to move away, instead gazing up at the wall with a slight furrow to his brows, until a pointed glare from Azriel had his hands raising in a placating gesture.

“Sorry, I forgot how touchy you bats get about your wings. By all means, you first.” Eris gestured towards the doorway now open before them.

Azriel shot another icy look at the man, tucking his wings back in tightly before he stepped into the space before him. The room was small, somehow both dusty from disuse and slightly damp. Likely melting snow, Azriel decided, an unfortunate side effect of the magical warmth that greeted him in a welcome reprieve from the biting chill outside.

 

A sharp whistle behind him had him turning, a dagger finding its way into his grip lightning fast. He loosened his stance as the near-silent patter of the hounds drifted closer. Right. He needed to relax. Something about the High Lord, who now raised a single perfect eyebrow at him in disbelief, just got under his skin.

Eris gestured again at the doorway, a second eyebrow raising to join the first. “No, really, I would love to stand and chat, but if you would prefer to talk to an ice statue, -”

“Alright!” Azriel snapped, stomping further inside. God, this asshole. What was it about him that riled him up so much? Eris was unbelievable.

Azriel took a deep breath, lowering the wings which had hitched higher above his head in his defensiveness. Careful not to knock against the other male or his hounds who now sniffed restlessly around the confined area, he unfurled his wings and let them soak up the warmth radiating from the gentle fae lights. There was only one bed in the safe house, barely large enough for one winged fae, but that was a problem for later. He’d make do with floor. The mountain’s chilled stone seemed not to retain the heat of the fae lights, but he’d had worse. Slept through worse. It was better than being too hot.

 

Mercifully, the door closed promptly behind Eris once he stepped over the threshold. He looked rather out of place, flexing his gloved hands as he looked around the space with a furrow of what might have been disapproval between his brows.

“Cosy,” Eris said disdainfully, finally looking towards Azriel again. An odd look came over his face as he took in the full extension of his wings, but it was gone in a heartbeat, a familiar smirk taking up residence in its place. Azriel snapped his wings back, cursing himself for reminding Eris that he was not, in fact, high fae. That would explain the lord’s casual forgetfulness around touching his wings, too. Azriel knew better than to remind some courtiers of their opinions regarding lesser faeries.

 

“Right.” He shook off the oily feeling curling in his abdomen at the thought of Eris being one of those prejudiced fae. “I think we should wait until later this evening. My shadows have been keeping an eye on the villages nearby. The naga have been bolder than regular beasts, from what I’ve gathered, and are barely waiting for people to return to their homes before making their attack.”

“Any clue of their next target?” Eris said.

“Yes,” Azriel fell quiet for a moment, thinking over how much to share. “I believe they’ll go for Feldsharp. The village has… conservative views on the treatment of females, and still partake in wing-clipping. I think it’s likely they’ll attack there, as none of the females have had any training to protect themselves or their children.”

Eris was uncharacteristically solemn. At least in this, he was serious, no cutting remarks regarding the Night Court’s ability to assist its people. Azriel hoped it was due to the vulnerability of the naga’s preferred targets. Azriel found himself wishing again that Feyre had been able to take on this task. She, at least, would have been able to soothe the jagged heartbreak of the villagers, their friends and loved ones snatched away with little fanfare. Azriel knew his presence was far more likely to incite fear than calm, so he stayed away, relegated to watching their heartbreak from the shadows.

Eris was watching him with a careful look, so he said, “I have my cards, too.”

At this, a less calculated grin finally flashed across the High Lord’s face. “Deal me in, shadowsinger.”

Chapter 2

This tradition, if you could call it that, had evolved with the relationship between the Night and Autumn Courts. As Eris solidified his place as a reliable if utterly irritating ally, Azriel had been sent on an increasing number of occasions to ‘strengthen the bond’, as Rhys had called it. This usually entailed Azriel’s attendance at mind-numbing courtly dinners, or Eris’s presence in Velaris for a Solstice ceremony. What followed was the important part – Eris and Azriel would meet privately to discuss any tensions either picked up, rumblings of restlessness in far reaches of each court, or how best to soothe discontent regarding trade routes.

At first, Azriel had flat-out refused to attend. Mor had eventually offered to go in his place, but both Rhys and Azriel had shot that down so thoroughly that the truth had finally come out. It was not Eris that Mor had feared so greatly, but Beron. Beron had forced Eris and Mor’s hands, and they had decided that leaving Mor in the forest was the only way for her to remain free of the court. With Beron dead and a long-winded tale of heartache and forgiveness told, Azriel had begrudgingly agreed to go. Despite the explanation soothing Azriel’s need to strangle him to death, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court was still just as much of a self-righteous prick as he remembered.

After a few unsuccessful meetings in which Eris had more often than not ended up pinned to the floor, a savage smirk gracing his features despite the knife at his throat, Azriel had offered up a game of cards. A ridiculous strategy to distract them both while they continued bettering their courts, but it had worked – and if they butted heads regarding which path to take, the winner of the game got their way. It hadn’t led them astray thus far, and Azriel supposed it was better than outright killing each other.

So this led them to today: sat knee to knee around the tiny table, hounds curled up by their feet, discussing their strategy as they flipped over cards. Azriel liked Eris this way, he supposed, when he was too focused on the game at hand to bother masking his expressions with a cold sneer or a haughty word. He looked briefly at the red-headed male over the top of his cards, watching as his amber eyes flicked between the table and his own hand, artfully spread between graceful fingers.

At least he wasn’t terrible to look at. Azriel took the moment to gaze a little longer at the lithe line of his neck as Eris tilted his head, the furrow between his brows returning as he frowned down at his cards. No, not terrible – if he was being honest, Eris was gorgeous. It was hard to see past the ice cold exterior and caustic words, or at least, it had been. But this Eris, the Eris that had been revealed slowly, as if he was warmed ever so slightly each meeting until the ice melted away? Azriel could admire him from afar. And perhaps it was getting a little easier to understand why the ice had been there to begin with, but – Azriel sighed. He wished he could help the male in front of him melt the ice entirely. He really was too pretty for his own good.

A wicked grin sliced across Eris’ face, cutting away the frown. He triumphantly pulled two cards from his own hand, placing them on the table with a flourish. “I win this round!” He crowed, finally looking up from his hand. Azriel quickly flicked his eyes away, but Eris’ gaze had turned knife sharp. “What? Still can’t deal with losing? Really, bat boy, it happens at least three quarters of the time. One would think you could get a handle on your losing face.”

Azriel felt the scowl rip across his face. “I let you win.” Not true, but still. “And its barely half the time, don’t flatter yourself.”

Eris’ grin grew wider, delighted at having finally managed to rile him up. “Well, I hate to be the one to ruin your good fun, but it’s nearly sundown. We better leave now. And this win-” he brandished his remaining cards “-means we come back here, if we’re injured – not to either of our courts.” Azriel groaned, but Eris continued, “It’s really the smarter idea. We don’t want to hold back on expending power to make sure we can get back to Velaris. Isn’t that the whole point of having a safe place here?” Eris stood, his chair scraping against stone. His loose shirt did little to hide the sharp lines of his muscled form, and Azriel found his eyes tracking the twist of his shoulders without much conscious thought. “Really, bat boy, use your head.” His eyes dipped briefly down Azriel’s body. “Your brain.” He smirked, and turned on his heel, heading to the other side of the room.
Azriel scowled, shadows deepening around his shoulders. Eris was a relentless flirt – one of the many grievances Azriel held against him – but Hel, where his mind had just been he supposed he had that one coming.

***

Wreathed in Azriel’s shadows, the pair stood on the cobbled road leading out of the forest. Further down the path, smoke curled high from the villager’s hearths, disappearing into the night-dark sky. Eris’ hounds had indeed tracked the scent of the naga to this entrance to the woods. Now that Azriel was here, he too could smell the rotten, pondweed scent of the monsters drifting downwind. Beside him, Eris shifted uncomfortably, the shadows swirling thicker around him as if trying to hide his movement.

“Stop it.” Azriel murmured.

“Stop what?”

Azriel held in a scoff. “Stop moving. The shadows move with you, moron.”

“Well stop them doing that, then!” Eris hissed back. “Aren’t you meant to be the one in charge here? Why don’t you sing to them then, shadowsinger?”

“Oh, for Cauldron’s sake, that’s all you’ve got? Good –” A sharp crack had Azriel’s retort dying in his throat. His eyes flicked to Eris, who had thankfully stilled entirely, then back to the road before them. The rustle of leaves and insects had disappeared into silence. The scent of the naga had not changed, but the unnatural quiet… had they missed something?
Soundlessly cursing Eris for distracting him yet again, Azriel grasped the male’s wrist and stepped forward. Something was amiss up ahead, and they had to clear the threat before it even got close to the village. He stepped forward again, halting at the resistance. He turned to find Eris standing behind him, feet planted to the hillside. His amber eyes widened briefly when Azriel met his gaze, then the High Lord was hurrying soundlessly forward – not pulling his arm from Azriel’s grip.

Seemingly back to himself, Eris used his free hand to motion to his hounds, who stole back towards the village quick as wind itself. Eris had explained earlier it was a long-ago learned command to return to their last residence, and the hounds would meet them back at the safe house later. Azriel turned back to the forest before him, scanning the tree line for any hint, any direction, and – there. A bush just to the right of the pathway rustled again. Slinking out from beneath it came the terrifyingly incorporeal form of a naga. Nearly imperceptible against the dark blues and greens of the forest at night, Azriel began to count. Two, three, six, then there were twelve naga cutting a swift path through swathes of knee-high wild grasses. Eris’ wrist tensed in Azriel’s grip. It was more than they had expected. They had estimated maybe seven, but twelve... twelve was a whole unit. This would be a tougher fight then he thought.

He met Eris’s grim gaze again as the male nodded slightly, as if to confirm Azriel’s thoughts. The second plan, then. They would split up and take on the monsters separately. Eris, a brightly coloured distraction right in their path, and Azriel, a shadowed monster himself, to ambush them from behind once they were caught in combat. Something in his gut twisted uncomfortably as he released Eris’ arm, but they had settled their plan earlier over cards. This would likely be their best shot at preventing escaped survivors.

With a nod in his direction, Eris steeled his gaze. The last thing Azriel glimpsed before he winnowed away was the High Lord’s eyes, turning molten gold, then white, then flickering blue. Deep, cobalt blue.

Chapter 3

The fight was brutally quick, but Azriel was distracted. Distracted by the male who seemed to dance with his fire magic, burning naga one after the other, disorienting them with the light and causing them to clash into each other. Distracted by the way his copper braid whipped across his shoulder as he brutalised the monsters. Distracted by the fact that his fire magic was fucking blue.

Honestly, Azriel knew he was ridiculous for it even as the thought crossed his mind. He efficiently dismembered a naga, slicing for its knees, then throat, then stabbing its heart in practiced movements. Blue didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t as if he owned the colour. And yet, as he watched the flames dance, wiping his blade on his leathers, he couldn’t help the strange, protective feeling curling around his ribcage. That was his colour, his calling card, his male –
It was with that dumbfounding thought that he felt the claws rip down his bicep. Cursing in rage, Azriel whipped his blade around and cleanly lopped off the naga’s head.

Fuck. He was distracted. He was unfocused, and losing precious awareness because of it. And yet, as he turned his head back to the quasi-battlefield before him, he felt a tug of unadulterated rage low in his gut. He wasn’t severely injured and had no reason to be more than mildly inconvenienced – in fact, he couldn’t even see any naga left to fight. Yet, as he scanned the field, meeting Eris’ gaze, he found there unflinching, murderous anger, panic, and then –

Pain blasted through his spine, pulling from him an earth-shaking roar. He grasped blindly at his back, trying to find the source of the white-hot pain that coursed through him. But there was no blood, no wound, and his wings were intact. What the Hel was happening to him?
He made to call out to Eris, meaning to warn him of some kind of strange magic, and found the male gone from his sight. Azriel’s back still throbbed, and he felt his chest growing tight. Where the Hel was Eris? What was happening to him? They needed to end this fight, now.
Azriel scrambled through the grass, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t find a pool of red blood mixed in with the black, dripping ichor. “Eris!” he shouted, feeling his voice grow desperate. “Eris!”

A low groan caught his attention, somewhere around knee height. All this damned grass was making it hard to see, but there – he caught a glimpse of copper hair. Azriel winced in pain as he dropped to his knees, and then winced harder at the pool of blood soaking into the loamy earth. “Fuck, Eris, what the hell happened to you?”

His voice dropped away as he gently brushed loose grass from Eris’ shoulders. The male was face down in the grass, struggling to rise, but Azriel pushed firmly on his shoulders, keeping him pinned. There, slashing across the bottom of his rib cage, was a jagged wound.

Azriel felt the blood drain from his face. It matched exactly to where he still felt pain radiating across his back. This meant. He knew what this meant. Damn it all if it didn’t start to make rutting sense, and yet…

Glancing briefly around, Azriel didn’t spy the last naga in the immediate vicinity. It would have to wait until his mate wasn’t bleeding on the floor, then, but he swore to it a long meeting with Truthteller. He looked back to Eris, gulping down panic as it rose in his throat. Jewel-red blood continued to follow rivulets down Eris’ side. The jagged edges of the wound were beginning to smooth, his Fae healing pulling the skin together, but if it healed before they could properly clean the wound the infection could be devastating.
And damn the stupid male in front of him, but they were going to have to do it at the fucking safe house.

Azriel swore under his breath. “Eris, I’m going to pick you up, okay?”
The Autumn Lord tensed, and they cried out as one as a jolt of pain ran through them both at the movement.
“Rutting hell, Eris, stop fucking moving!” Azriel gritted out between clenched teeth. “Shit, okay, I’m just going to do it.”
He slipped his hands under the male’s graceful form, cursing his pain-addled mind for how it plotted out the flex of Eris’ arms and the toned muscle of his thigh. Crouched over, Azriel breathed steadily through his nose, taking a moment to brace himself for the stand. In one quick movement, he lifted the male up and winnowed them away.

***

Azriel’s boots were fixed firmly to the floor, arms crossed tightly across his chest in what he knew was an imposing position. Before him, a clean white bandage wrapping around his freckled torso, Eris lay propped up on the meagre pile of pillows the safehouse offered. The smokehounds curled beside the bed, unwilling to move far from their master when he was vulnerable in this manner. A dull ache in his back told him the wound was properly closed now it was clean, but it had yet to heal entirely. Azriel tried not to think about what else that ache meant.

He watched as Eris seemed to try for a wry grin and failed miserably. “Alright, so will you say it, or will I?”
“Shut it.” Azriel snarled. “What the hell was that?”
“Well, alright, I got my ass handed to me, but we definitely drove them off-”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Pink spread across Eris’s face, gaze dropping from Azriel’s. Azriel felt guilt stir deep in his gut. He couldn’t tell which of them the guilt belonged to, and that confused him and terrified him so much he felt the hot flare of anger begin to build again. This had been stupid of both of them. Clearly they were too distracted for the fight. They should have had back up, or settled for drawing the naga away from the village instead, but they hadn’t. They’d both suffered the painful consequences of that particular decision.

“Azriel,” Eris began.

That pulled him up sharp. Had Eris ever referred to him as anything other than ‘shadowsinger’? He didn’t think so, and the confused feeling began to simmer and rise again. Now Eris was looking right at him, his copper eyes more open and apologetic in a way Azriel didn’t think he’d ever really noticed before, and it made his face look so soft in a way that triggered a bone-deep protective drive. Azriel nearly couldn’t stand it. He definitely couldn’t stand the insistent ache in his chest at the sight of the male before him, at the scent of his blood that still lingered in the air.

Azriel stormed towards the bed, wings flaring and shadows swirling, and Eris didn’t look the least bit scared.

“You fucking asshole,” he growled, hand moving to hold Eris by the back of his neck.
And then without him even meaning to move, Eris was cupping the sides of his face and Azriel was crouching over him, and the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood and something darker and indescribably male was filling his nose, driving any sort of rational thought far away. Azriel felt hot breath ghost along his jaw, felt the whisper of flame in Eris’s fingers as they stroked along his cheekbones, and then he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You could’ve died too, you know,” Eris whispered, as if he was imparting some deeply held secret in the ever-decreasing space between their lips.

Azriel kissed him.

Chapter 4

Notes:

CW: gets a littleee bit explicit at the end

Azriel pulled back, panting. Eris’ pupils were blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. It had been barely a brush of lips, more delicate than Azriel had meant it to be, but they were both heaving breath in as if they’d run a mile.

“What are you doing?” Eris murmured. His gaze was dark and heavy.

Shame trickled down his spine. Azriel made to pull back further, an apology building in his throat, but Eris’ hand shot out, gripping him firmly around the wrist.

“I didn’t say you could move, sweetheart.”

The heat in his gaze had Azriel’s own cheeks reddening. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he murmured, mere inches from the male’s face. “I just realised you’re really pretty, and –”

“Just realised!” Eris squawked in mock outrage, the desire in his eyes flickering away into surprise.

Azriel felt a deep blush crawling down his neck. He cursed himself internally as he stumbled to get the words out. “No, I mean I’ve known you were attractive for years.” He watched as Eris’s eyes took on a smug gleam. “But then you looked at me with that face, and I just- I couldn’t stop it.” Azriel winced at the blunt words, weighing how far he should continue. “I mean, you’re a bit of an arrogant prick sometimes, but I like spending time with you, and –” he paused again. If he revealed too much, he risked being wrong in his assumption about the mating bond. He realised he didn’t want to lose the tentative friendship they had built. No one got under his skin quite like Eris.

But Eris continued to watch him, his gaze softened and nearing what Azriel suspected to be the beginnings of adoration, despite Azriel’s bumbling attempts at expressing himself. He realised that their time together had taught him to truly understand the male before him. Eris watched him like he could really see him. Like he saw Azriel, scars and all, and understood.

No one really saw him.

Just Eris.

He wondered, his gaze trailing the high cheekbones and sharp jaw of the male before him, if the revelation was being projected right out of him. He found himself hoping that it was. Hoping that Eris knew it, too. True understanding of what he wanted, what he needed, trailed like fire across his skin.

So Azriel said, voice quieter than a whisper, “Did you not feel the bond too?”

The overwhelming relief in Eris’ eyes nearly bowled him right over.

“Thank the Mother,” Eris breathed, and pulled him into a kiss.

 

Eris kissed him like he was suffocating and Azriel’s lips were a breath of fresh air. He kissed like Azriel was a hot knife and he was butter, melting and touching everywhere he could, all at once.
Azriel began to carefully remove the pillows one by one from behind Eris’ back, laying him flat on the bed. Eris held tight to the front of Azriel’s leathers, grip unflinching as he kept their slick lips moving fervently together. He was forced to release him briefly as Azriel shucked his jacket, Eris’ whine of protest transforming to a groan of desire as he pulled away his undershirt with it.
The High Lord’s long fingers moved hungrily across his chest. Azriel met his gaze, finding a curious mix of longing, desire and profound hunger in his partner’s molten eyes. Azriel inhaled sharply as those hands brushed gently over his pebbled nipple. Surprise and delight flashed in quick succession across Eris’ face as he hauled Azriel down to swallow his groan in a kiss.

Azriel felt dazed, heart beating frantically in time with the hot pulse of what he now knew to be his mating bond. Their mating bond. He was frantic, hands roaming over porcelain skin as far he could reach; he was barely aware enough to soothe carefully around the wound in his mate’s side as his hands continued their feverish path.

His skin was too hot, too tight. Eris looked just as overwhelmed when they finally pulled apart for air, his lips bruised jewel red and his perfect hair thoroughly dishevelled. Something primal and hungry prowled in a smug circle in his chest. Eris pressed a hand to his lips, eyes round and wild, in a gesture so vulnerable that Azriel finally found the courage to blurt out “You – Eris, you’re my –”

“Your mate, I know. I feel it too, I –”

“Gods above, I – you –”

“I know, Az,” Eris said on an exhale. “I know.”

They stared at each other for a minute longer.

“You’re my mate,” Azriel said softly.

Eris gaped at him. A moment longer, and the shock wore into something deeper and delicious, his expression sending a lick of flame curling deep in Azriel’s chest. He was suddenly very aware of their position on the bed, the hard line of his mate’s erection pressing into his thigh. The reminder sent a jolt through him, and he became unfalteringly aware of the way he himself was aching with need. One look down the long lines of Eris’ body had Azriel knocking him down flat again, pulling a gasp from him as he pressed his thigh between Eris’ legs.
The aborted moan that ripped from Eris sent Azriel near manic. He wanted nothing more than to rip off the male’s clothes and take him right there, but he held himself back, wanting, needing to know that Eris needed him too.

“Eris,” Azriel panted into his neck, trying to calm his breathing. Eris writhed beneath him, pressing against him wherever he could, desperate sounds tumbling from his lips. “Eris, listen to me, I need to hear you say it. Look at me.”

His mate stilled, barely, and lifted his hand to Azriel’s face. Azriel felt his head gently tilting up at the touch. He met amber eyes swimming with need, and immediately looked away again. Gods, he had no self control. This infuriating male simply looked at him and he wanted to rip his clothes off. He gritted his teeth. He supposed there was a certain dark humour in knowing that Eris’ ability to rile him was ever present. It certainly wasn’t disappearing now.

“Eris,” he tried again, steeling himself before meeting his mate’s gaze. The desire there had sharpened into curiosity, barely containing the lord’s need. “Just one word, please. I need to know that you want this.”

Eris inhaled sharply. His mouth flattened into a tight line, sealing any words in.

“Please – I can’t – I need you to tell me.” Azriel was going to die. These torturous seconds of delay would finish him, and he would expire a deeply dissatisfied and incredibly aroused male. “For gods sake, Eris –”

“Yes,” Eris finally gasped out. He sounded as if he’d just emerged from underwater, a bottomless pool of lust and longing.

“Yes, Az, please”.

That was all Azriel needed.

Notes:

Next chapter is pure smut. Consider this your final warning.

Chapter 5

Notes:

CW: explicit !!

They kissed desperately, Eris’ fingers pulling feverishly at the laces of Azriel’s pants. Right as he tugged the string loose, Eris pulled back and bit down on Azriel’s neck, hard enough to bruise. He felt his cock jerk at the lightning bolt of pleasure that sizzled down his spine.
Their tongues slid together even as Azriel stripped out of his pants. He used the temporary distance to tug down Eris’ sleepwear, comfortably and conveniently loose around his hips, and then the male was bare before him. He felt Eris’ breath hitch as his hands continued to explore south, brushing over the High Lord’s hipbones.

Azriel suddenly couldn’t stand not looking at Eris any longer. He drew back from the kiss, and his heart jumped into his throat at the sight before him.

Eris’ figure was ridiculously toned. He felt his eyes roaming, ravenous, drinking in the long, muscled limbs and – Gods, Azriel had helped him wrap his wounds. He knew the male was fit, but that ass, his thighs, were going to send Azriel to an early grave.

He felt the colour rise again in his cheeks as his gaze travelled further south. His mouth watered at the sight of that luscious cock jutting up from a patch of neatly trimmed burnished-copper hair.
He looked up under his eyelashes to meet Eris’ stare. He watched the lord’s mouth drop slightly open as Azriel lowered his head slowly towards his cock, wrapping his lips around the rosy head and swallowing him down.
He slid his lips down the length of Eris’ cock, only stopping to swallow when he reached the hilt. He refused to relinquish eye contact, even as tears pooled in the corner of his eyes.
Azriel bobbed his head up and down relentlessly, holding pressure and licking and sucking. Spit trailed obscenely from his mouth and he relished in the feeling of Eris writhing beneath him. The lord stuttered and gasped, begging incoherently.

This, Azriel thought, was where he belonged; between the knees of the High Lord of the Autumn Court, showing him how he held his pleasure in the palm of his hand.

“Az, baby,” Eris finally choked out. “I don’t want to come yet. Come up here, sweetheart”.

Azriel only flicked his tongue over the head of his cock in response, savouring Eris’ long groan in return.

“Azriel, gods – ”

Eris finally managed to control himself long enough to wrap his arms around Azriel’s shoulders, pulling him up to suck marks down the column of his throat. Their bodies rolled against each other, and Azriel heaved out a breath. It was agonizing, waiting. He wanted nothing more desperately than to be full.
“Eris,” he panted out, mildly embarrassed at how wrecked he sounded already. “Can you please fuck me now?”

Eris froze with his teeth against Azriel’s chest, having made his way south markedly quickly. His head slowly rose, and Azriel took a moment to think about his words. He hadn’t considered Eris’ preferences. Azriel only knew how badly he wanted to be fucked and he would be damned if he didn’t beg for it.

“You really want that?” Eris asked, hesitant, but when Azriel made himself look the male in the eye, he found the amber nearly stripped away by the fathomless hunger there.

“Yes,” Azriel breathed.

Eris held out a hand, maintaining his stare as a wicked grin crept across his face. A glass bottle of sweet smelling oil dropped into his waiting palm.

Azriel snorted.

“Show-off.” He laughed, and Eris’ own eyes brightened in surprise and delight at the sound.

“Simply well prepared,” Eris retorted, and before Azriel could blink he found himself face down on the bed.

Eris massaged his ass cheeks, and Azriel remembered his own aching cock pressed forgotten into the rough linen bedspread. With each push of his hands, Eris slowly opened up Azriel’s cheeks, thumbs grazing lightly over his tight hole.

Azriel rocked into each push of his hands, wanting, needing more friction. He felt more than heard Eris hum behind him, and looked over his shoulder to see Eris oiling up his fingers with dark desire spread across his flushed face.

Azriel kept watching as Eris dipped his fingers down to brush again at his hole, gasping at the flicker of pleasure that raced across him. Eris took his time opening him up, slipping his fingers in and out and relishing each deep groan drawn from Azriel’s lips.

Azriel was wordless, breathless, panting and rocking into the linen.

“C’mon, please, fill me up.” He groaned in a jumbled mess of words.

Eris, thankfully, took the less-than-subtle cue to pull back and slick up his cock. Azriel got up onto his hands and knees, rocking his ass with embarrassing need back towards Eris until he felt his hips caught in a strong grip. He felt Eris line himself up at his entrance, straining his neck to see, until he felt strong fingers on his chin.

“Look at me.” Eris ordered, amber eyes glinting with desire. “Look at me as I fill you up, sweetheart.”

Azriel felt him breach the first ring of muscle, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sharp sting. The fingers gripped his chin tighter. “I said look. At. Me. Azriel.”

Azriel blinked his eyes open wide as Eris continued to push slowly in, onwards and onwards for what felt like an age, until his hips came to rest against Azriel’s thighs. Eris watched Azriel, and Azriel watched in awe as the blue in the male's eyes flickered brighter. Azriel whimpered. He was so full it ached, but he watched Eris as he had commanded, saw the barely-there restraint and undisguised adoration. Saw the deep, beautiful blue. His cock jolted with desire.

He breathed deeply, waiting as the initial sting faded into a delicious stretch. He blinked a few times, then nodded to Eris. “You can move.”
Eris’ gaze turned predatory, but he kept himself controlled, pulling painfully slowly back out until just the head remained inside. He pushed back in just as slowly in one long, smooth stroke.
Azriel was bursting with white-hot pleasure. He wanted more.

“Please Eris. Please. I want you to fuck me.” He found himself babbling, his own self-control gone along with any sense of self-preservation. “Please, sweetheart-”

The pet name seemed to shatter whatever tightly held scraps of self-control Eris had remaining, and he snapped his hips forward so fast it seemed to shock him. Azriel’s gasp transformed into a strung-out moan as the male fucked him with long strokes he felt deep in his abdomen.

“Say it again.” Eris growled, setting a punishing pace that had Azriel rocking back into him. The long thrusts had Eris brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside him with every stroke, and Azriel fought to maintain control long enough to make eye contact with his mate over his shoulder.

“Fuck me, sweetheart,” he moaned. If it weren’t for the unyielding grip on his hips, the look Eris gave him would have knocked him backwards.

 

Too soon, the pleasure overrode any possibility of prolonging the act. Eris’ long groans only heightened Azriel’s arousal, and he found himself reaching finally for his own cock.

Eris’ hand beat him there. The slickness of the remaining oil and the precome dripping down Azriel’s length had his cock slipping easily through Eris’ too-warm palm. He stroked him in time with each thrust, and Azriel felt his balls draw up as the fire in his gut grew to an overwhelming roar.

Then Eris let his other hand glide over the membrane of his wing and Azriel saw stars.

Azriel came, shouting, thick ropes pulsing across the linen beneath him. His hole clenched uncontrollably, and Eris’ surprised groan was all that warned him before his own release found him. Thick warmth spread in Azriel’s abdomen, leaking down his thighs in obscene dribbles.

Eris slumped over him, gulping down huge mouthfuls of air. Azriel felt untethered, drifting in an ocean of ebbing pleasure. What struck him most was the unfiltered joy in his chest. It felt as if the bond was singing, and it grounded him back in reality.

Eris pulled slowly out and slipped quietly to the kitchenette. Azriel winced at the loss. He slumped to his elbows, then let himself tip sideways so his wings lay off the side of the bed.

Eris returned with a damp cloth and began soothing it over Azriel’s body. With it, all the thoughts he had been trying not to think came roaring back. What was this? They were mates, but what did that mean? The Mother worked in obscure ways - just because she had linked them for eternity didn’t mean they were right for each other, and what about the small manner of this having been the best fuck of his life…

“You’re thinking too hard, Azriel.” Eris murmured from where he now joined him on the bed. “We aren’t in a rush. We can take our time.”
His words were a soothing balm to Azriel’s ragged thoughts. He looked up into Eris’ face and found it open, lined with longing and a glimmer of hope, and thought perhaps this might have been just what he needed. He thought he might even know why Eris chose to use a cloth to clean him rather than vanishing it with a wave of his hand.

For once, Azriel decided to let fate take control. He opened his arms to the male before him, a small smile spreading across his face as he watched relief chase a path down Eris’ brows. Eris returned his smile and lay down with him.

Eris fit right into his arms.

Perhaps, Azriel thought, as his mind began to cloud with sleep and blissful calm; once they awoke, they should play a game of cards.

Notes:

That's all, folks! First fic wrapped up. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing it <3