Olethros

seventeen - freyja

I hadn't slept that well in too long. I couldn't open my eyes, even when my mind demanded to wake. I was warm, comfortable. My nose was pressed into something that smelled like leather, wind, and whiskey. There was a metallic scent, too, but I didn't mind. I hummed, using my grip on soft curls of fur to drag myself in closer.

Sleep almost took me into her arms again, but I felt a shift on the bed and the curls my fingers were holding onto moved. I stilled, peeling my eyes open. Oh, Gods. My face was buried in a neck, there was a jaw resting on my temple. My fingers were clinging to his hair. I started to shift, releasing his hair and moving myself back, but his arm was around my waist and he tugged me closer against him.

"Azriel," I whispered, my voice raw from sleep. He groaned, shifting his thigh further in between mine. I bit down on my lip, suppressing the gasp. My hand slid down from his hair and over his jaw, feeling the stubble of unshaven hair. I was shameless in my exploring. I rested my palm on his chin, brushing my thumb over his lips. They were parted with soft snores.

I slid my hand from his face and brought it between us, running it over his chest to where our stomachs met. How badly I wished this was not a misunderstanding. I wanted to pretend that this was just two people in a relationship, one waking to enjoy the peace of the other asleep and entirely vulnerable. It wasn't, though, and he would shove me away the moment he woke.

The young girl in me that adored this male since the first time I saw him came to life. I felt comfortable, nearly happy. There's been so many times I dreamt of us in bed together, whether it was naughty or as simple as this was. I squeezed my eyes shut, nuzzling in closer until my lips pressed to his neck. I didn't kiss him, I just held myself there as his pulse thrummed against my lips.

His hips shifted, rolling forward. I gasped, remembering what he had felt like in my drunken haze. He was entirely intoxicated and surely didn't mean anything he did or said, but he felt so right against me. I'd never felt a hard length pressed into me like that, not one I'd wanted so badly. That same hardness was pressed against my stomach.

Liquid heat ran through me, leaving an uncomfortable desire between my thighs. Never had I been in a situation where a male was present, where he could ease this tension. My breath felt hot against his skin, warming my face as I shifted against his thigh. Azriel seemed to press it higher, giving me what I needed. I pressed my face into his neck to muffle any sounds. Gods, I should be embarrassed. I should push away and wait until he woke and left.

His thigh pressed harder and I fought back the urge to bite his skin. Pleasure wracked through me at the pressure, making my hips buck again. It shouldn't feel this good. I'd done far more to myself to feel a fraction of this. As I sucked in a breath, feeling the friction of my breasts against his chest, I realized it must only feel so good because the pleasure came from something other than my own hand. It came from the touch of a male I'd desired so long.

It was wrong, though. He was asleep and I was using his body to feel something I shouldn't feel. Despite the need tearing through my veins, I flattened my hand against his chest and began to push away. His arm shifted. Rather than wrapped around my waist, his hand gripped my hip before I could realize it. His thigh pressed harder, making my entire body shake.

"You can use me," Azriel spoke. I nearly moaned at the sound of his voice. So raspy and deep from sleep, he sounded like the worst of sins.

"Isn't this wrong?" I asked. My voice was nothing like his. It was breathy and full of desire. A rumble came from his chest so deep it made pleasure spark.

"How? I'm not touching you anywhere but your waist. You're chasing your own pleasure," he answered. I rolled my hips, letting the moan fall from my lips.