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.
"But I am not pleasuring you," I panted. A female's body was built for a male's pleasure- that is what I had been taught. Azriel's grip tightened, shifting me down to move against him. I gasped, nails clawing at the chest of his leathers.
"Hearing your moans is pleasure enough," he grunted, shoving his thigh harder against me. I pressed my mouth against his throat, muffling my cries as I began to move. I couldn't hold back anymore, no matter how wrong it felt. My hands shook as I slid them up to graze my fingers against the skin above his leathers. Azriel's grasp on my hip guided my body against his, showing me where the best touch was.
"Azriel," I gasped, arching my back at the overwhelming heat that grew in my lower belly. He groaned, lifting his chin. I pressed my lips to his pulse, offering a small gift compared to the one he offered me. My thighs shook around his, my nails digging into the warm skin at the base of his throat. His grip was so tight, I knew I'd be bruised.
"Oh, Gods," I cried, writhing against his thigh in a way that should embarrass me- it would, I was sure.
"That's not my name," he ground out. The pressure was building so fast, spinning my mind like I'd never felt before. The pleasure I gave myself had never amounted to something like this. Knowing he wouldn't touch me in a way I wanted, one of my hands slipped down to squeeze my breast over the tunic I wore. My shaky moans were consistent with the roll of my hips, and when Azriel jammed his thigh higher, I shouted his name. Trying to muffle my sounds like I'd trained myself so long ago, I sank my teeth into the flesh of his neck as the pleasure swallowed me whole.
"Fuck," Azriel spat, sounding furious though I knew he wasn't. My body shook as the heat started to lower. I still rocked my hips, riding myself through the waves that made me bite down harder. Azriel moaned, the sounds vibrating against my lips as his thumb began to draw circles over my hip bone. As the blind pleasure fell and my mind cleared, embarrassment overtook me. I pulled my mouth from his skin and tried to slide back. This time, Azriel released me.
"I'm sorry," I muttered, shuffling myself to the other side of the bed. I hid my face in the pillow, tucking my hands between my bent knees as I waited for my shaking to stop.
"Why? Arousal is natural, Freyja. There's nothing to be ashamed of."
His words sounded like the truth, but it didn't ease my mind. I'd used his body to feel pleasure when he was meant to use mine. My mother told me during my maturity that our bodies are not meant for pleasure. That we may feel it when a male uses us, but not always. She had prepared me for sex to hurt, which I had noticed when that one male had pushed his fingers into me, but there was no agony in this. Azriel had offered me nothing but pleasure without even moving his hands.
I peeked at him, lifting my face from the pillow. His eyes were closed, lips pressed tight as he breathed slowly. I wondered if it hurt him. I had bitten him.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you," I whispered. His eyes snapped open, training on my face.
"I'm not hurt. I'm trying to stop myself from fucking you into this bed," he spat. I sucked in a breath, turning my eyes away. He spoke in ways I'd never heard. I felt the heat in my face as I thought over his words. He wanted that. I looked at him again.
"Why do you have to stop yourself?"
Azriel groaned, his eyes shutting again. For a moment, I was worried that I'd made him angry, but I glanced down to see he was still hard against his leather pants.
"Because that would be wrong," Azriel muttered. I frowned, rolling onto my back. How silly of me to forget that Azriel knew of the consequences. He'd been told them long ago, and witnessed what happened to Morrigan. Sure, what had just happened wasn't a crime, because I was still pure. It could be a secret yet still be true. He hadn't fully touched me at all.
After a long moment of silence, the bed shifted. I turned my head to see Azriel rising to his feet. I sat up, realizing he only grabbed his boots but didn't put them on. He left the room and my heart sank. I wanted to convince him that it wouldn't ruin me if he touched me. The Freyja who lived under the High Lord's rule was gone. I was as free as I could be, which meant he could touch me as much as he desired.
I slipped from the bed, cringing at the wetness gathered on the pants I wore. I decided to ignore it as I left the bedroom. I heard the splash of water from behind the closed door of the bathing chamber. I sighed, leaning against the wall. He was probably cleansing himself of my scent. I wanted to be brave and march in there. I wanted to be like any other female and let him use me for relief. I wasn't forbidden anymore, because this escape would end in my death or his. There was nothing to lose.
I pushed off the wall and knocked on the door. The splashing stopped, and then Azriel's muffled voice sounded. "Come in."
I did as he said, though the sight shook me to my core. He no longer wore the leathers that fit his body beautifully. He was nude and more breathtaking than I could've imagined. I'd seen him shirtless before, when he trained with my brother and Cassian, but I'd never seen him like this. Not after the war. His back was to me, his wings covering more than I could see, but I still saw the deep lines of his muscles and the dark tattoo inked across his shoulders.
"I... I wanted to know why you find it wrong for us to be together," I finally spoke up. There was no courage that fueled it, only desire. My hands shook.
Azriel was wiping his skin down with a wet cloth lathered in soap. I wanted to do it for him. He glanced over his shoulder at me and my breath caught at the seriousness in his gaze.
"You know why, Freyja. You are not to be touched, you are not to be dirtied."
My brows pressed together. "Dirtied? Is that what you'd think of me? If it wasn't you, if I found another male to touch me, you'd find me dirtied? Worthless?"
His hand slowed as it scrubbed at his extended arm. I almost leaned in, desperate to hear what he thought. Maybe it was my decades long desire for him, but my heart pounded as I waited. He took so long so answer, I thought he may turn around and take me right there. He didn't. He threw the rag back in the basin and snatched his clothes from the ground. As he tugged the pants up, his shoulders fell with his head.
"Yes."
My heart dropped. I opened my mouth, wanting to beg for him to take it back. He'd just pleasured me, whether it was with his fingers or not, he had done it. He'd wanted me. I snapped my teeth shut and turned, slamming the door behind me. The betrayal of his words burned like flame on my skin. Not like his touch had done, because that had raised a desire I had never known before. This, however, hurt like I'd never known before.