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Azriel stood by the door of the drawing room, arms crossed and knees locked. He stared daggers at the marble corner of the mantle, refusing to acknowledge the figure seated across the room. The doorway was as far away as he could get without actually exiting the room. Azriel was still following orders, if only just.
The minutes ticked by. He was good at waiting; it was a skill he'd honed over five centuries as Spymaster. A few minutes was nothing, really.
But Rhys was late.
And Azriel hadn't signed up to babysit a lordling for 15 extra minutes while Rhys did whatever the fuck he was up to in the Illyrian camps this morning.
Said lordling chose that moment to shift audibly in his chair. Azriel knew what was coming, but his spine still stiffened as Eris Vanserra’s posh drawl drifted toward him.
“It seems your High Lord has not changed when it comes to respect for his allies' time.”
Azriel took a controlled breath, quashing the surge of anger that always threatened to erupt when Eris opened his aristocratic mouth. He dragged his eyes toward Eris, willing an icy impassivity into his expression.
“He’ll come when he's ready to see you.”
Eris’s eyes flashed, a trace of embers in his amber stare. His lip curled as he sneered, “Oh, I’m not interested in him that way , but I do seem to recall having an appointment 15 minutes ago.”
Azriel growled, wings flaring, but Eris held up a hand.
“Please,” he intoned, “let’s not get blood on the carpets, your High Lady would be most displeased.”
Azriel uncrossed his arms, knees loosening, his body instinctively ready for combat. His hand drifted toward his hip, where Truth-Teller was sheathed—
A dark talon scraped along his mind. Azriel.
Azriel sighed. He ignored Eris’s smug face, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yes? he silently answered Rhys.
Bit of a dust-up in Windhaven. We’ll be a couple hours late. Keep him entertained until then.
Rhys, you can't be serious—
Just a couple hours. Please. We do need him.
Azriel paused, long enough that he felt the prickle of Rhys preparing to speak again. But he interjected at the last second, Fine. Mother help me.
See you soon.
Azriel glanced out of the corner of his eye toward Eris, who idly crossed an ankle over a knee. “Well?” he asked, drawing out the word.
Azriel rolled his neck, vertebrae popping spectacularly. “Rhys is gonna be a couple hours late.”
Eris scoffed. “I don't suppose you'll tell me why.”
Azriel only stared in response.
Eris adopted a position of utmost leisure in his chair. “It’s just you and me then, shadowsinger.”
~
Thirty minutes passed in tense silence. Or, at least, Azriel was tense. His knees ached and his back muscles burned as he stood rigidly by the door, wings tucked in painfully tight. His nails carved half-moons into his palms.
Eris lounged, languidly perusing through a book of Night Court genealogies he'd plucked from a nearby shelf. The sun slanting through the bay windows glinted off the gold signet ring on the little finger of his right hand as he turned a page. “Did you know,” he drawled, “that your High Lord’s grandfather had fifteen bastard sons?”
Azriel glanced up, but did not respond.
“Indeed, he did. Ah,” Eris paused. “He looks to have had all of them killed.” His lip curled as he looked up at Azriel. “Pity the Night Court has since forgotten the proper way to deal with bastards.”
Tension rippled down Azriel’s spine as he slowly turned toward Eris. “I may be a bastard, lordling, but at least I’m loyal to my court.”
Eris’s eyes flashed, snapping the book shut. “Oh, I’m loyal to my court, shadowsinger. To my people . I simply do not blindly follow the whims of a selfish, reckless High Lord.” His gaze traced the shadows gathering around Azriel’s shoulders, arms, and wrists, before snapping back to lock eyes with Azriel. “Unlike some of us.”
“Careful,” Azriel growled, stalking toward Eris. “As you said, Feyre wouldn't want blood on the carpets.”
“Indeed, she wouldn't.” Eris stood, brushing an invisible fleck of lint off his shoulder. “Be a good dog and do as your High Lady wishes.”
Azriel took another step toward him, flaring his wings slightly. A weaker male would have stepped back, would have curled inward under Azriel’s looming presence. Eris only relaxed his hands to his sides, unperturbed as the shadow of Azriel’s wings fell across his face. Azriel’s stare bore into Eris, a dangerous glint and a hint of wildfire reflected in amber eyes. Eris did not look away.
“I’ll remind you,” Azriel hissed, “that my High Lady and High Lord are the only reason you aren't bleeding out in the dungeons of the Hewn City.”
Eris smirked. “Surely you don't mean that, shadowsinger. We have such fun together.” He glanced down at his hands, toying with his signet ring.
Azriel scoffed, but refused to back down. He surveyed the male in front of him, assessing as his gaze traveled from head to toe and back again.
Eris was a few inches shorter than Azriel, and less brawny, but Azriel was not foolish enough to dismiss the male’s strength. There was no mistaking the powerful build outlined by his fitted tunic, nor the warrior’s stance—feet slightly apart, hips square. And yet Eris appeared utterly at ease, almost bored. The gold ring glinted as Eris idly twisted it, his fingers long, the movement betraying a lithe strength.
As Azriel’s gaze returned to Eris’s own, he found the male staring at him, the corner of his mouth quirked. Something in Azriel’s gut heated, matching the warmth he could feel radiating from Eris’s body. The fire behind Eris’s eyes was only a hint of the inferno held within. Azriel exhaled slowly, not quite able to tear his gaze away. Eris’s stare held danger, and heat, and something else.
Azriel’s voice was a low rumble as he leaned further toward Eris. “I don’t think you’d like my idea of fun .”
Eris’s eyes dropped briefly, almost imperceptibly, to Azriel’s mouth. “Try me.”
Azriel huffed a laugh. They were standing so close that his breath gusted over Eris’s face. A single curl at his forelock fluttered. “Be careful what you wish for, lordling.”
Eris’s eyes darkened. He lifted a hand, and Azriel’s shadows twined through Eris’s fingers and around his ring. Azriel suppressed a shiver as Eris tilted his head and whispered in Azriel’s ear, “Only one way to find out.”
Azriel surged forward, grasping the front of Eris’s tunic and pushing him forward until his back collided with the mantle behind him. Eris’s fingers wrapped around Azriel’s wrists, and Azriel felt his skin begin to heat under Eris’s grip. Their faces were millimeters apart. Eris panted, eyes blazing. “Finally ready to play, shadowsinger?”
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“Stop talking,” Azriel growled, and crushed his mouth to Eris’s lips.
The kiss ignited wildfire in Azriel’s chest. He couldn't stop, couldn't think. It was only the sensation of Eris’s mouth as his lips parted, opening, matching Azriel in ferocity, stroke for stroke. Eris bit Azriel’s lower lip, nearly drawing blood, then sucked away the sting. Azriel drew his hand to Eris’s nape, fisting a handful of hair. He slid his other hand to Eris’s jaw, stroking his thumb across the pounding pulse point, swallowing Eris’s groan as he deepened the kiss.
Eris grasped Azriel’s leathers at his hips, dragging him closer until their bodies were pressed together from chest to thigh. Azriel shuddered at the contact, the fire in his chest rushing to his groin as he felt Eris’s hips grind against his hardening cock. All he could think of was how much he wanted to inflict the same erotic torture on Eris.
Every sense was ablaze. He lost himself in the feel of Eris’s mouth on his; teeth nipping, lips sucking, tongues meeting and exploring. Eris’s loamy scent was underlain with an unmistakable musk, and the scent of Eris’s arousal practically wrapped around Azriel’s cock. Azriel was hyper-aware of every inch of contact between their bodies, and through his leathers he could feel Eris’s hardness pressing into his own. The low moans Eris made vibrated through Azriel, from his mouth to his chest to the tips of his wings.
Azriel tore his mouth away, panting as his eyes fixed on Eris’s face. His pupils were blown wide, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. His chest heaved, staccato breaths pressing into Azriel’s own torso. Eris slid his hands further down Azriel’s hips and tightened his grip as he purred, “Is this what you meant by fun , shadowsinger?” He punctuated the last word with a roll of his hips, grinding his erection into Azriel’s.
Azriel stifled a groan, and dragged his teeth along Eris’s jaw. “I said,” he nipped at Eris’s earlobe, “shut up.” He canted his hips into Eris, grinding into him as he sucked and bit his way down Eris’s neck. Eris’s head dropped back, exposing his neck further, and Azriel felt a hand skate up his back.
Without warning, he felt warm metal drag against the underside of the base of his wing. He couldn't suppress his moan, nor the shiver that shot through him. His cock throbbed, impossibly hard from the forbidden pleasure of Eris’s ring stroking against the most sensitive part of his wings.
Eris let out a low chuckle. “So this is why you brutes are so uptight about your wings.”
Azriel tried to formulate a response, but his mind was entirely blank, his body on fire as Eris continued stroking. The feel of the ridges of the ornate ring was the most exquisite torture. Azriel retaliated in the only way he could think of, his hand snaking between them to palm Eris’s cock through his trousers. “Like this,” Azriel ground out, stifling a moan, “but a thousand times better.”
Eris drew his hand back, only to drag his fingers down Azriel’s swollen lips. Almost on instinct, Azriel’s lips parted, and Eris pushed two fingers into Azriel’s mouth. Eyes locked on Eris, Azriel sucked while he ground his hand against Eris’s cock. Eris’s fingers dropped out of Azriel’s mouth, his signet ring dragging down Azriel’s chin, then his neck, then his torso. His fingers teased at Azriel’s waistband, dipping under the leather, nails dragging against the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. His fingers were so close to where Azriel wanted them, but Eris kept up the infuriating teasing. Like a cat playing with its dinner. Azriel shuddered.
Eris smirked, so Azriel drew his hand up, deftly loosening the laces of Eris’s trousers. Azriel closed his fingers around Eris’s cock, pulling it free. He was momentarily distracted from Eris’s touch by the feel of Eris’s erection in his hand. The skin was impossibly smooth against the roughness of Azriel’s scars, and the throbbing hardness felt like fire made flesh. Azriel looked down, and his breath hitched at the sight of his hand gripping Eris’s cock. As he pumped slowly, the head glistened with precum, foreskin sliding smoothly with Azriel’s hand. Azriel’s mouth watered.
Eris bit back a groan, then drew his hands to Azriel’s shoulders. “Get on your knees.”
Azriel wanted to protest, wanted to stay in control. But there was something intoxicating, something irresistible, about what he knew Eris wanted him to do. What he wanted to do to Eris. Anticipation tingled in his gut, and his cock pulsed. Before he could even register the motion, he was sinking to his knees, Eris’s hands at his shoulders, pushing him down.
Eris’s cock jutted toward him, mere inches from his chest. Azriel looked up toward Eris, not quite knowing if he was seeking permission, or confirmation, or expecting the male to laugh in his face. But Eris only studied him, then smirked.
“I like the view,” Eris drawled, “but there's something that would improve it.” Eris snapped his fingers, and Azriel’s clothing vanished. “That's better.”
Azriel’s eyes narrowed, a low growl escaping his throat. Eris fisted his left hand in Azriel’s hair, nails scraping along his scalp, and the growl became a moan. Eris smirked.
“Touch yourself.”
As if compelled by magic, Azriel fisted his cock, and he shivered as the scars on his palm grazed the impossibly sensitive head. Eris tugged slightly on his hair and stepped forward, the tip of his cock leaving a moist trail along Azriel’s collarbone. As Eris guided Azriel’s head down, his focus narrowed to the sight of Eris’s erection, and his only thought was how badly he wanted it in his mouth.
His own cock grasped in one hand, he wrapped his fingers around Eris’s length. He dipped his head, running his tongue from base to tip in broad strokes, wetting the length of Eris’s cock in preparation for what came next. He glanced up at Eris as he lapped up a bead of precum. Eris stared down at him, face flushed, a ring of fire around his dilated pupils.
In one motion, Azriel took Eris into his mouth as far as he could, sucking as he drew back. Eris’s hand tightened in his hair as Azriel swirled his tongue over the tip before taking Eris fully into his mouth again. He stroked himself, matching the pace of his hand and his mouth. He moaned softly, and Eris thrust forward, his cock bumping the back of Azriel’s throat.
“Fuck,” Eris groaned.
Azriel took that as a challenge, cupping Eris’s balls in his free hand as he took Eris’s cock deeper in his mouth. Eris began to thrust harder, pushing Azriel’s head down as he thrust forward. It was all Azriel could do to keep his hand moving on his own cock as Eris fucked his mouth. He felt a curling in his groin, his release building as his mouth and hands and cock were overwhelmed with sensation. Saliva dripped down his chin and his eyes watered as he took Eris to the hilt, over and over. Eris was muttering, head thrown back against the wall, almost unintelligible as he repeated fuck and so good and just like that with every thrust.
Just when Azriel thought it could not possibly get more intense, he felt the now-familiar scrape of a ring on the underside of his wing. Azriel erupted at the sensation, moaning on Eris’s cock as waves of pleasure coursed through his entire body. Release crashed over Azriel, and he groaned as his cock spurted in his hand.
The vibration of Azriel’s throat around Eris’s cock sent Eris over the edge. Azriel felt the heat and tasted the salt of Eris’s release as he swallowed. When the pulsing ceased, he slowly drew back, sucking the last drop from the reddened tip. Azriel sat back on his heels, lifted his hand—still coated with his own cum—and wiped it on Eris’s trousers.
Eris looked down at him, curling his lip in disgust. “Filthy mongrel.”
Azriel stood to his full height and returned the sneer. “I didn't give you permission to touch my wings.”
“I didn't ask.”
“I've killed for less.”
Eris scoffed and opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when Azriel stiffened and turned toward the door.
“They're back.”
Eris gave a perfunctory nod. He snapped his fingers and his trousers were spotless again. Another snap and Azriel’s leathers appeared, neatly folded on the armchair. “Get dressed, shadowsinger. We have a meeting to attend.”