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heyitsthatgirl · 1 year

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Chenford ❤️ Lucy freaks out about being with Tim

Eleven slices of cake sat between the three women. Eleven somewhat identical slices of cake. One had raspberry filling, apparently. Another had lavender buttercream. But all were decorated in white piping and placed on plates adorned with bridal-white doilies. The bakery was a trendy little place with big bright windows that overlooked a courtyard below, a cafe taking up the space with quaint tables and ivy that twisted and crawled up every available surface. Definitely the kind of place that was still a ways off from her patrol salary, but definitely not out of reach for the bride-to-be and her once-contractor-turned-T.O. fiancé.

Bailey was hemming and hawing at the moment between the passionfruit creme and white chocolate chai cakes, neither of which they thought the woman would end up choosing, seeing as how she had been deliberating between the slices for almost forty minutes and had made little to no progress. Apparently, Bailey had asked a few of her co-workers to come along on this very important decision-making expedition, but all had declined. Which meant that Nolan had come begging Angela and Lucy to go with her, since his girlfriend was kind of light on female besties. It took Angela a bribe of a bottle of Herradura to come along, but Lucy had agreed because she genuinely felt sorry for Bailey. She knew that it was hard to open yourself up to other people after a traumatic experience, so she stepped up to the plate. Because, at the end of the day, she was grateful for the people in her life who had been there for her when she needed. So, she would do the same for someone else if she could.

And also: free cake.

“I just can’t decide!” Bailey said, throwing her hands up and letting the fork clang down on the plate, a runaway piece of frosting flinging across the mahogany tabletop. “I like the chai, but it’s not very traditional.”

“So get the chai.” Angela responded, tone even but somewhat threatening. They’d been through this whole song and dance a few times already this afternoon, and the detective was running low on patience.

“Lucy, what do you think?” The other woman asked, hopeful optimism shining in her eyes. Lucy felt her hackles go up as Angela shot her daggers, threatening her to dare and disagree with her and continue this never-ending cake-tasting.

“Oh, I uh,” she stammered, grabbing her own fork and taking another small taste of the cake, “Oh yeah, the chai really is great, Bailey.”

“Really? It’s not too… Out-there for a wedding cake?”

“It’s your second wedding,” Angela deadpanned as she rested her cheek on her fist, “Second weddings can be a little more fun.”

“Right,” Lucy began hesitantly, noticing the way Bailey tensed up, “Why don’t you take your two favorites home with you, and have John cast the winning vote?”

“Yeah, maybe,” she mused, looking back toward the counter where the shop owner was finishing up a sale, “I’ll go and ask if that’s okay.”

“Great.” Angela muttered as Bailey jumped up and made her way across the bakery to the counter. Lucy used this opportunity to smack her gently on the arm. “Ow. What?”

“This is important to her!” She said, keeping her voice low enough that Bailey couldn’t hear her. “At least try to pretend to be interested.”

“I was interested. Ten cakes ago. And why couldn’t her fiance be here anyway, isn’t this like, a couples thing?”

Lucy just gave her an annoyed glare, “Because he wanted her to try to hang out with someone beside him or a bunch of firefighters. I don’t think she has a lot of girlfriends.”

“Just get the yellow cake, it’s what everyone expects anyway,” she sighed, poking a half-eaten slice with her fork, “I didn’t even get to eat my wedding cake.”

The statement wasn’t sad, more matter-of-fact, but made Lucy’s heart clench all the same. Some memories would always be a little more painful when she was forced back to them. “Want me to get you a slice?” She asked through a kind smile, and Angela winced, as if the thought alone was going to make her hurl.

“That’s sweet, Lucy,” she said, swallowing down a gag, “But if I look at another piece of wedding cake I’m going to lose it. In any case, once Wesley and I got settled after Guatemala, we went to Ralphs and got a small birthday cake. We even froze a piece for our one-year and everything.”

“Stop,” Lucy said with a grin, holding back her giggles, “That’s so freaking cute!”

Both women looked over at Bailey who was chatting away with the shop owner and mulling over the variety of cakes again, and Angela just let a huge sigh go, “This woman is hopeless.”

“She’s happy,” Lucy countered, looking back to Angela, who still leaned on her fist, looking bored as ever. “If I were her, I’d be just as excited and meticulous.”

“I bet,” she snickered before softening, “Do you think you’ll be like this, though? All bridezilla?”

“She’s not being a bridezilla,” Lucy argued, but Angela just gave her a look and she rolled her eyes, “Okay, she’s a little bit of a bridezilla. But, anyway, I’m… We’re… We’re definitely not there.”

“I get it,” Angela said with a growing smile, attempting to hide it by taking a sip of her champagne, “But, you’ve thought about it, right? Cause, you know, Tim wants all that traditional stuff. Wife, kids, house with the white picket fence. All that nuclear family American dream crap.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lucy said with a laugh, twisting idly at the stem of her glass, “I mean, he mentioned it a few times when we were on patrol together.”

“But you haven’t talked about it as a couple?” Angela seemed a little more invested in the conversation now, scooting herself a hair closer to her.

“I mean, no not really… But,” she bit her bottom lip and tried to re-focus the conversation, “We’ve only been dating a few months. I don’t think we need to start planning out our kids’ college tuition quite yet.” Lucy suddenly felt her face go red hot, flushing crimson as she heard herself say, out loud, ‘our kids’ Because, sure. Chatting about a nebulous future where you may have kids someday, while riding together on patrol is a little different than openly admitting and verbalizing the actual concept of having children together. And the weight of the thought hit her like a semi truck.

“How many?” Angela pressed, seemingly picking up on Lucy’s epiphany. “Kids. How many do you think you want?”

“I… I don't know.” She suddenly, desperately wished the server would make a reappearance with the bottle of champagne. “I mean, we're not even living together yet.”

“Come on,” Angela groaned, inching closer, “Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. What your life is going to look like in two, three, five years time. Not to like, freak you out, but from what I can tell, the both of you are serious about this. So, what's the hold up?”

“Sure, I guess,” Lucy glanced up at Bailey as she now was scrolling through her phone, showing the woman behind the counter her wedding pinterest board and gushing about the ceremony she had planned. “I mean, eventually I’ll probably move in with him.”

“And? Come on, Lucy. Use that imagination of yours.”

“It’s a little scary, okay?” She bit back, but there was no venom in it. And she sighed, “Sorry, it’s just… It took a lot of shit to get us to this point. And, sure we want the same things… Marriage, kids, dog, house. But I think we’re both so worried about screwing this up, or moving too fast… We both know each other so well, what if we are bad at it? You know like, what if we don’t know how to be a good couple?”

“It seems to me like you guys are doing fine,” she said, her brow furrowing just a little, “Unless you’re not. Are you fighting or…?”

“No!” She quickly corrected, maybe a little too loudly, and looked around worriedly at the rest of the bakery where people happily ignored her outburst, and she turned back to Angela, “No. It’s nothing like that. We’re solid. He’s… Honestly, the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. We communicate. Make time for each other. Respect each other’s privacy and boundaries. And, you know, the sex is pretty good.”

“Oh, God, please,” Angela begged, her face screwing up into a disgusted wince, “You can spare me those details, Lucy! Honestly.”

“Sorry,” she laughed, “It’s more like, everything feels like it’s going so great…”

“You feel like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?” She asked, and Lucy nodded her head slowly. “I get it. You are kind of wondering, when are his skeletons going to fall out of the closet? But, Lucy,” Angela laughed, her hand settling on hers and gave it a gentle tap, “Tim Bradford is the most vanilla guy I know. And you’ve ridden with him long enough to know all his secrets. Isabel’s addiction. His issues with his father. At the end of the day, you already know who you’ve got.”

She was right, of course. Tim was an open book these days, far from the walled-off, broken man who had stolen her service belt or made her walk outside the shop. There’d always be a little bit of a hard edge to Tim Bradford, but finally getting to the point where he was open and without barriers, she knew Angela was right about his deep, dark secrets. And maybe that wasn’t even it— maybe she was more afraid of being the one to screw things up. She didn’t exactly have a great track record with men either. But she knew things were different, things were right this time. So, she took another sip of her champagne and let the worries and fears tuck away in her subconscious, safe and sound for now.

“She really should just pick the chai,” Lucy finally said, taking another bite of the mangled slice of cake. “I mean, I would have gone for the lemon poppyseed, but that’s me.”

“You think I should go with lemon?” Bailey asked, stunned, as she approached the table with a to-go box. Angela quickly turned her glare on Lucy, who just winced as she set her fork down and gave both women an apologetic and pained smile.

“Should I order us another round of drinks?”

Thank you so much for the prompt! I enjoyed this a lot, and hope that, while I took a slightly different take with this, it still was what you were looking for. Writing prompts are currently open. If your prompt is not answered, it's nothing personal, we may just have different ideas.

#chenford #chenford fic #chenford fanfiction #chenford fanfic #lucy x tim #the rookie #catherine writes

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

Text

The Enemy

I would make you the enemy if I could

Summary: In order to kill his most hated enemy, Azriel has to kidnap Graysen Nolan's fiance.

Should be easy, right?

Chapter 4/5: Love Made Me Crazy | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Read on AO3

For @elainweekofficial- I am not following the prompts (as no prompts can contain me)

Elain didn’t know what to say once Azriel had her in the car. And for the long drive back to the cabin, the only sound that passed between them was their shared breathing. He’d put one warm, steady hand on her thigh—as if he suspected she was close to falling apart and needed something to ground her.

She’d killed someone. A real person who’d been alive before he’d ever met her. Elain kept waiting for horror to replace the satisfaction she felt. She wasn’t happy she’d done it—but neither did she regret it. Maybe this was shock. Maybe horror would find her in a few hours.

But maybe it wouldn’t. And what did it say about her that it didn’t?

Elain didn’t move when they reached the cabin, nor did she fight Azriel when he jogged to her door and all but lifted her out. He was afraid, and she couldn’t quite grasp why. He would have died, and that seemed so unthinkably foul to her that she wanted to shake him. She’d known, when she’d run out of that car, that she might hurt someone.

Known in theory, at any rate. It had been instinct that made her move from her hiding place, and fear that drove her to slam Azriel’s blade into Hyber’s neck. She wanted to tell him that, but Azriel’s hands were insistent as they tugged her up the drive, gripping her shoulders like he expected her to fall over at any moment.

He didn’t take her to the couch like she expected, or even to bed. He brought her to the bathroom, reached through the glass door of the shower, and turned on the tap.

“Take it off,” he demanded. For one wild, almost silly moment, she thought he meant to—well, it didn’t matter. Because he took a step back when her fingers went to the hem of her shirt, and averted his gaze when the fabric plunked between them on the tile floor. Elain caught sight of herself in the mirror across the room.

Pale and wide-eyed—and splattered with blood. She looked awful, which she supposed explained his gruff, yet distant attempt at care. Was she supposed to laugh? To smile? He hadn’t spoken a word, and it occurred to her too late that perhaps he was horrified by her actions.

She stood before him utterly naked, steam curling around her form. Azriel was staring at the wood wall just to the side, his chest rising and falling as if he’d run a marathon.

“Wash yourself. I’ll—”

“Stay with me,” she demanded, grabbing his wrist. Azriel turned so, so slowly. She expected him to tell her no, which was foolish, in retrospect. He kept his eyes on her face even as he began stripping himself out that bloodied, armored suit. Elain could scarcely breathe as inch after glorious inch of his golden skin was revealed, nor when he was just as unclothed as she was. She took a step backward, reaching for his fingers to bring him with her. He stumbled forward, watching her with parted lips and the same streak of red smeared over his features.

“Why?” he demanded when the hot, unrelenting spray of water hit them both. “Why didn’t you run? Why aren’t you afraid?”

Elain reached for his jaw, brushing her fingers over the rough, dark stubble. “What is there to be afraid of?” she replied, her words half drowned. “You’ve never been cruel to me.”

Something she might have mistook for pain crossed his features. “I have. Unforgivably cruel.”

He was coming closer, crowding her between his body and the wall behind her. Elain pressed her palm to his bare stomach, hissing softly at the flexing muscle beneath. She didn’t dare look lower though she desperately wanted to.

“Don’t I get to decide what you’ve done that I forgive?”

He brought his face closer, those bright eyes of his burning. More brown than green, and flecked with shimmering gold. “Is that what tonight was? Forgiveness?”

She sucked in a breath. “You know what that was.”

He groaned, snaking a strong arm around her slick body so there was no space between them. She could feel his cock then, thick and long and all but bruising when he wedged it against her hip bone. He gave her no opportunity to look, to admire him the way she wanted to because he’d kissed her.

It was, as far as first kisses went, absurd. Soaked and still bloodied, standing in a shower as captive and captor, Elain had to swallow a hysterical laugh. She doubted very much this was how he’d expected things to go when he’d snatched her from her room. Elain found she didn’t care. Not when her arms wound around his neck or his fingers came to her hair, angling her head so he could deepen the kiss between them.

It was like magic. A man as brutal as Azriel should have kissed just the same. It should have felt like a claiming and yet it felt like a question. Soft, sweet—almost tentative at first. So at odds with how she was used to being kissed. He tasted warm and bright and Elain was drowning in it.

“You were supposed to leave,” he growled against her mouth, teeth nipping at her bottom lip. Lust bolted through her, filling Elain with heady excitement.

“I know,” she agreed, dragging her nails down his back. Azriel kissed her again, his tongue meeting hers somewhere in between. They both moaned, pressing closer until his powerful thigh was between her legs. He had her pressed against the wall, one side of her body blasted with water, for all she noticed. All Elain could think of was his skin beneath his palms and his hands sliding up and down her slippery body.

“Tell me why you stayed.”

Elain moaned, arching her neck as he peppered kisses along her collarbone. Raking her fingers through dark hair, she replied, “You know why, Azriel.”

He groaned, sinking to his knees before her. Azriel’s large body took up most of the space in the shower, his scarred hands pushing apart her legs. She didn’t understand what he meant to do until he kissed just beneath her aching sex. Elain squirmed, unable to keep Graysen’s voice from her head—just for a moment. Eyes locked on Azriel’s, she could hear Graysen telling her how emasculating it was to get on his knees, how it made him flaccid and unaroused to put his mouth there.

“What do you taste like, princess?” he whispered, his breath curling against her overheated skin. Elain raked her fingers through his thick hair, pushing Graysen out. She swallowed hard, drinking in the image of his broad shoulders covered in dark ink. She wanted to know what he tasted like too. What he sounded like when he came apart, how it felt to share a body with him.

He didn’t wait for her response to take that first languid taste with the flat of his tongue. Azriel’s reverberating groan told Elain whatever he’d found between her legs, he liked. She did, too. His mouth was soft, teasing and Elain hadn’t realize how wound up she was until he’d begun to spread her apart. Azriel didn’t stop his slow exploration, acting as though he had all the time in the world. He reached for her ass, holding her up as he slung her other leg over his shoulder. She ought to have toppled to the ground. His strength kept her exactly where he wanted her, exactly as he wanted her.

All but riding his face, if his excited mouth was anything to go by. Elain hadn’t meant to grind herself against him. Pleasure was making a mockery of her, turning her into a creature of need. He was moving so slowly, his tongue making slow circles over her clit. She needed more. More of him, more of this. Of them. Azriel might have had time, but Elain did not. If she didn’t have him now, she thought she might combust.

After all, she’d had to watch the beating Hybern had given him. And she’d have been the one to watch him die in that filthy corner. They were alive and they were together. What had he said to her?

Let’s get you home.

So she ground herself against him, gripping his hair so tight she thought it must hurt him. Azriel only groaned, tugging her closer to all but ride his face. “That’s it, princess,” he said, his voice ragged with unspent need. “Take what you want.”

“I want you,” she replied, her back arching off the wet tile behind her. “Az, I want—”

His tongue slid into her body, pulling a soft shriek from her lips. It was a mimicry of the fucking she’d beg him for later—assuming she had to beg at all. “Can’t think when you say my name like that,” he managed, his own hips thrusting forward. She could just see the tip of him jutting from between his legs, hidden from view by virtue of how they were positioned. Elain wished they were anywhere else, somewhere she could touch him fully, where she could sink to her knees and—

“Say it again.

“Az,” she breathed, turning another thrust of his tongue and a moan from his lips. He licked faster, his tongue sliding the length of her over and over until Elain was being driven mad, until she was drunk with pleasure, all but burning with it. Elain couldn’t remember the last time she’d come from something other than her own hands or a battery operated toy. But right then, her skin scalding beneath the spraying shower, Elain broke apart around his face, gripping his hair to keep him moving, to ride her through the bright spark of pleasure burning a wildfire through her.

He probably would have kept going had she not tugged him off her. Had she not, with nails digging sharply against his shoulder, pulled him upward. Azriel hauled her upward, letting her wrap her legs around his waist as he held her with ease.

And when he kissed her, Elain tasted herself on his tongue, the sweet, muskiness of it only adding to the arousal she still felt.

“Az,” she breathed against his mouth.

“Yes?” he responded, one wet hand sliding up her spine.

“I want more.”

Their eyes met, and powerful, terrifying, violent Azriel shuddered.

“You can have whatever you want.”

AZRIEL:

The walk to the bed was agony. Elain was in his arms, kissing the side of his neck as she rubbed her slick body against him and all Azriel wanted to do was throw her against the edge of the sink and fuck her sensless. Fuck her until she’d forgotten who he was and who she was. Until she wasn’t the princess and he wasn’t the monster—until she was his and only his.

But she was a princess, and to that end, he wanted to have her in a bed the first time. He’d have her everywhere else for the duration of her captivity and then…and then he didn’t know. He’d have to let her go and Elain might very well leave him.

Maybe she’d stay.

Her words were still ringing in his ears, loud enough she could have been shouting them.

Don’t you dare touch him.

And in his entire, brutal life, Azriel could scarcely think of a time someone had come to his defense like that. His brothers, perhaps, but they were always armed, always certain of their own strength, their own success. Elain was untrained, untested. And still she’d run into gunfire, into danger.

For him.

It was that thought that bolstered him, that offered him just enough hope. He laid her out against the ugly blue and black plaid bedspread, bought cheaply years ago so there’d be something useful to sleep beneath without anyone caring if it was ruined. It seemed sacrilegious to put her on it. The only other option was the couch and while he desperately wanted to fuck her there, it had to be the bed the first time.

He had to prove he could be gentle—that he could be kind.

“Elain,” he breathed, joining her on the soft mattress. She looked at him with wide, lust fogged eyes as she reached for him. He settled between her parted legs, committing her naked body to memory. Azriel had been with his fair share of women. None of it had ever come close to how he felt now. Coming out of his skin, nearly bursting with flame.

The taste of her pussy was still in his mouth, drowning out his ability to be rational. He scooted forward, taking his cock in his hand while Elain leaned up on her elbows to look. Azriel crept forward until he could rub his aching skin against her own, moaning softly at how wet and warm she was.

The long, thick length of him jutted past her hips, resting between her legs when he stilled his movements so could really look at him. He knew he must be nothing like the men she was used to. Not clean cut, not sweet, not soft. Azriel heard her swallow before reaching for him, curling one of her small hands around his shaft tight enough to rob him of his reason. Her fingers just barely met, the sight of which filled him with something primal.

Something instinctual.

She stroked him, looking from his cock to his face.

“Can you take it?” he asked her, adjusting his plans for the possibility she might tell him no.

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” Elain replied, unaware of how her words all but shattered him.

“I’m not a nice man,” he warned her, pulling himself from her grip.

“I never thought you were,” she replied, smart mouthed as ever. Maybe she wasn’t nice, either. Maybe that sweetness, those doe-eyes, were just a mask like the one he so often wore. And maybe, he thought as he lined himself up with her own body, Elain was no different than he was. Azriel punctuated his point by thrusting himself into her in one fluid, near brutal motion. Elain gasped, her back arching off the bed involuntarily.

He could have come from the sight of her alone. The feel of her body, though. Azriel was wrecked. She was wrapped around him like a silken fist, tight and warm. A second skin rubbing against his own, reminding him he ought to have taken more care.

He dragged himself out to the tip, groaning as he went.

He wasn’t giving her back. Fuck Rhys, and fuck Graysen, too. Elain was his, and when her father paid the fucking ransom, Azriel was going to keep her anyway.

He thrust back in. Elain screamed softly—not from pain, but the same drowning pleasure he felt, too. Clenched around him, Azriel knew there was no atrocity he wouldn’t have committed to keep her. This was madness, it was insanity.

"Look at how well you take my cock," he whispered, losing himself when she scratched sharply down his back.

Heaven and hell all at once. She was a goddess, an ethereal creature come to torture him and he was her worshipful acolyte, her willing slave. Again and again, Azriel thrust himself brutally into her body and again and again Elain rose to meet him. Collapsing against her, Azriel reached for her, kissing her if only to have a little taste of the woman who was so thoroughly unmaking him. He couldn’t tell her the truth of things, the words too much for him. Words he’d never said to another person, words until that night he didn’t think he was capable of feeling at all.

He reached between them, rubbing at her clit so he could feel her break apart around him. He needed to feel her come.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his other hand curling around her neck. Elain gripped his wrist, fingers spread around his scars. She wasn’t afraid and she wasn’t repulsed. Her lips found his, kissing frantically until there was nothing but their panting breaths and the slap of flesh meeting flesh.

Azriel squeezed her throat until Elain gasped, her eyes flying open to look at him. He merely held her gaze, thrusting viciously in her body until Elain’s back arched and she screamed, a rasping sound given the pressure he was putting on her neck. He could feel the rippling orgasm around his own cock, the force with which she’d come apart, squeezing around him like a vice so tight his hips jerked out of rhythm and he was all but rutting into her.

He’d meant to fuck her into oblivion a second time before he ever came the first, but her pussy was gushingly wet and Azriel had lost all pretense of control. He came with a near whimpering cry, spilling into her with reckless, careless abandon. It didn’t matter, he thought wildly. She belonged to him and he belonged to her. There ought to be nothing between them.

His heart pounded wildly as Azriel tried—and failed—to come to his senses. He kept stroking long after he’d come, sliding against her arousal and his come without a care. She was still kissing him, slow and long and deep, her arms tangled around his neck.

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered, marveling at the spike of arousal pulsating through him. It was usually right here that all Azriel’s regrets and good sense came crashing through. Just after finishing that found him wondering why he’d pinned that woman to the bed, why he’d fucked her at all.

But with Elain—fuck with Elain—he found himself asking why he’d stopped. Why he wasn’t still wringing pleasure from her? He wanted her satiated and exhausted, too tired to consider what they’d just done—and perhaps, her own regrets.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked him through bright, swollen lips. Azriel brushed little tendrils of damp hair from her face. He could still see the blood streaked over her skin, though the shower had washed it away. Could still see his knife clutched in her hands, could hear her voice whispered in the violent, inky dark.

Don’t you dare touch him.

“Yes,” he rasped. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Though, he wasn’t staying in this ugly bed, either. Pulling himself out of her was hell made slightly better when he got to watch his own come slide out of her. He couldn’t help himself when he slid his thumb over the lips of her pussy, pushing the fluid back into her body.

Nor could he stop himself when he leaned back over her and smeared both their arousal against her swollen lips.

Elain huffed out a breath even as her tongue darted between her teeth to taste them both. “You’re disgusting.” “You have no idea how disgusting I am,” he replied, raking his eyes down her perfect body.

Challenge streaked through those brown eyes. “Oh yeah? Show me.”

He couldn’t help himself or the laugh that ripped out of him. “I’m starting to think you’re not a princess at all.”

“I tried to tell you,” she replied, smiling right back. Azriel licked his lips before hoisting her up, surprised by how shaky his legs were as he brought them both off that ugly fucking bed. “Are you going to chain me to the radiator now?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he warned, walking her out to the living room. “I think I’d like you on your knees, hands tied behind your back.”

“And what would I be doing?” she asked breathlessly, licking the column of his throat. Goosebumps erupted over Azriels skin. “Choking on my cock, sweetheart.”

Elain’s teeth sank against his shoulder roughly, biting him hard enough to bruise. Azriel’s cock bobbed viciously between his legs, eddying all other thoughts from his mind. Had he ever been so turned on in his life?

There was a pause of silence as Azriel set her on the back of the couch. One where she studied his face curiously before accusing, “You liked that.”

Azriel made a show of cocking his head, of sweeping his eyes down her body before coming back to her face. “And?”

“Maybe I should bite you harder,” she replied breathlessly, sliding to her feet. He crowded her space again if only to feel her breasts rub against his chest. Sinking to her knees with an elegant sort of grace, she continued, “Maybe I should tie you to the radiator.”

Azriel’s response choked into a desperate moan when she gripped him and licked the long length of him.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” he told her, hardly sounding confident. He sounded like a breathless mess. Elain looked up through those dark lashes and he wondered if he wasn’t making a mistake, letting her have him like this. If he shouldn’t wrap her up in a blanket and let her cry.

Elain sucked him into her throat before he could even try, and—well, Azriel was still a man, after all. And Elain had killed his most hated enemy for him. To save his life. If this was what she wanted in the aftermath, who was he to stop her?

To tell her no?

Even if he’d wanted to—and he didn’t—Azriel had already plunged his fingers in her hair and was panting yes, and fuck me don’t stop like some kind of wild animal. There were noises escaping his throat he’d never heard himself make before, that sounded distinctly like whimpering pleas.

He’d once prided himself on his control. He could go forever, could hold back his need to come until he was ready. Not anymore. Not when her mouth was the softest thing he’d ever felt in his life, moving in time with her pretty hand as she hummed and gagged her own pleasure. He felt brand new, like he’d never once had sex before.

Maybe he hadn’t. Not like this.

Hands knotted in those buttery brown curls, Azriel came so hard his vision went spotty and his legs shook violently. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from her or the mix of saliva and come dripping down her chin and onto her perky, perfect breasts.

She pulled back with a shit eating grin. “That was quick- Az put me down!” she squealed, legs flying when he pulled her up and tossed her to the couch.

“Not a fucking chance, princess.”

ELAIN:

She’d never slept so good in her life. Elain woke up close to ten thirty plastered to Azriel’s naked chest. He held her tight, his breathing even. She didn’t think she’d seen him ever sleep so deep, and certainly not as long. Elain was careful to untangle herself from him so he could continue to rest while she showered quickly.

An actual shower, and not the half assed rinse they’d done before he gotten on his knees and gone down on her. She couldn’t think about that—or the other times he’d done it, either—or she’d go wake him up and beg him to lick her again.

And again.

Instead, Elain thought of Hybern and the knife she’d plunged in his neck. Azriel had killed him, though she had no illusions Hybern would have died eventually from the wound she’d given him. Azriel had done such a good job distracting her last night that there was no need to think about what she’d done.

Pulling on one of his shirts so she could wear it like a dress, Elain did think about it. Replaying the moment she’d stabbed him in her head like a movie, without rearranging things to make her seem better.

Because the truth was, Elain could have stayed where she was and Hybern would never have known. He’d have killed Azriel and left her there, unaware of her presence. More damning still, was the reminder she could have stolen his car and gone home. Elain had gone looking for him, knife in hand, and when she’d killed Hybern, it had been because she wanted to kill him.

And if Elain was even more honest, she didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about it.

She’d do it again, if she had to make the same choice.

It was strange how that thought gave Elain peace. She padded back to the living room where Azriel was still asleep, one heavy leg hanging off the couch. He was half covered by a blanket and so very beautiful in the warm morning light. Elain shook off the surge of affection she felt, or the hammering emotions vying for dominance in her chest. She needed to officially end things with Graysen before she dumped all that in Azriel’s lap.

It lingered, though. Killing Hybern was fine, apparently, but her unfinished business with Graysen was intolerable. Elain focused herself on cooking breakfast, and when he crept up on her, wrapping strong arms around her middle while burying his face in the crook of her neck, she nearly doused them both in bacon grease.

“Where did you go?” he murmured, kissing just beneath her jaw.

“I was hungry,” she told him, leaning against the solid, steady warmth of his body. “I figured you must be, too.”

“Hungry for—”

“Don’t you dare,” she hissed, twisting in his grip. Azriel took that opportunity to steal a kiss, holding her cheek in one of his scarred hands.

“I was thinking we could do something today,” he began once Elain pulled back, carefully scooping her bacon onto a folded paper towel.

“Like what?”

Elain expected him to ask to play more games or, perhaps, to climb back in his lap. He’d thrown on a pair of athletic shorts, slung just low enough over his muscular hips that she could see the carved vee pointing straight at his cock.

“Like my place in the city,” he said casually, walking around the kitchen island. Elain was so busy watching the muscles of his back bunch and shift that she only barely heard him.

“What?” she asked breathlessly.

Azriel leveled a dark stare. “Where do you plan to live when this is all over?”

“I…”

His expression was so guarded, fingers drumming against the faux marble countertop. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she finally admitted. “Did my father pay the ransom?”

“No,” Azriel replied. “But he will. Unless…”

Elain held her breath while Azriel seemed to force himself to continue. “Unless you’re going back to Graysen?”

She burst out laughing, “No. Of course not,” she added, crossing her arms over her chest. “Surely you have to know that I…” that I think I might love you, insane as it sounds. Elain cleared her throat. “I would haven’t done what we did last night if I planned to go back. Before you so rudely kidnapped me—”

“I think you mean romantically kidnapped you,” Azriel deadpanned. Elain smothered a smile.

“I was going to end things with him anyway. You’ve merely dragged this out an extra two weeks.”

He didn’t react. “Oh.”

“But I have my own place in the city, as you so well know,” Elain said, narrowing her eyes. “And I would much prefer, if you’ve decided we’re going to live together, that you moved in with me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “My apartment is better guarded.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, turning for plates. “And tell me about the color scheme, Az. All black? Minimalism?”

There was a long stretch of silence.

“You could repaint—”

“Or you could box up your six pairs of t-shirts and come live with me,” she returned blithely, scooping eggs on a plate. Azriel scowled.

“That isn’t my sort of place.”

“Then maybe I’m not your sort of girl.”

His mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

“I think you owe me,” she said, holding his stare. “And that neighborhood is my sort of place.” Elain hated how her bottom lip trembled, how she was already so close to losing him before she’d ever really had him. All Graysen had ever done was make demands while she made concessions. Elain compromised and men got everything they wanted.

Azriel cocked his head.

“Your neighbors won’t like having me next door,” he said, watching her with that predators stare.

“Well, I was planning on introducing you as Azriel the mobster, but I suppose I could just say nothing and they’d have to mind their own business.”

He looked down at his fingers, blinking once, and then again. “I ah…I suppose if that’s what you want—”

“It is,” she said, carefully to keep her voice soft. His eyes raised to her face.

“And you want me?” he clarified.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Will you compromise with me? My place, just until the break up is settled—and I know he isn’t going to try and drag you back. I swear,” he added, as if he could hear the brewing argument. “You can help me pack. I’m not in love with that place.”

His words hung in the air, though Elain didn’t dare press.

It was smart, in truth. Graysen was likely to try and track her down, and the last thing she needed was a violent altercation on her front steps, especially when Azriel was volatile and unconcerned about getting his knuckles bloody.

“The minute he takes the hint, you’re in my bed.” Azriel placed his hand over his heart. “Pink sheets and all.”

She slid a plate toward him. “Eat, then. I want to see the squalor you live in.”

A smile slid over his face. “I think you want an excuse to fuck me in my own bed.”

“I don’t think I need an excuse,” she replied, forking fluffy eggs into her mouth. “In fact, I think I could have you simply by snapping my fingers.”

His fork clattered to the plate. “Want to test that theory, princess?”

Elain took another bite, holding that lethal stare. She raised her hand so, so slowly, well aware he was watching her every move.

Elain snapped and Azriel lunged with a growl. She didn’t make it far, rounding the corner when Azriel feinted, only to twist and catch her around the middle.

“One of these days, when it’s warm,” he breathed against her neck, dragging her back to the couch, “I’m going to unleash you in the woods and fuck you in the dirt.”

“You're depraved,” she breathed when he pulled them to the cushions.

“You like it,” was his eloquent reply, adding, “Now baby. Please. Ride my face.”

And who was she to tell him no?

It took them three hours to convince the other to get dressed and in the car—not counting how Azriel had immediately flung his seat back and pulled her into her lap as he declared he needed to fuck her everywhere. Their situation felt tenuous, as if one wrong movement would see him pulling over to fuck her again.

She was sore, could still feel him buried inside her even though she was separated from him by clothes and the center dash. Though, he had placed a hand on her thigh, squeezing every so often as though to assure himself she was still there.

Elain ran her fingers over his knuckles. “What happened?” she asked, turning the music down.

He glanced over, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “My father wanted to teach me a lesson.”

Elain blinked. “Your—what?”

“I was always reaching for my mother and he wanted me to be a man,” Azriel told her roughly, his eyes glazing over. “So he dipped my hands in oil and—”

“Stop it,” she whispered, squeezing tightly. “Don’t—I—” she blinked away angry tears. “Is he still alive?”

A haunted smile told her no, even as he asked, “Why? Do you plan to defend my honor again?”

“Yes.” She was surprised by the vehemence in her voice. “I would.”

“You’re so blood thirsty, princess.”

Sweeping her thumb over his scarred hand, Elain murmured, “I’m sorry someone did that to you.”

He took a deep breath. “I believe you are.”

The urge to tell him how she felt about him rose into her throat again, swallowed quickly when he pulled into a parking garage.

Not yet, something soft whispered. She didn’t want the memory of those words tainted by the threat of Graysen and intended to ask Azriel if he’d let her call him once they got back home. Surely there was no more pretense he was actually holding her hostage. Not when she was perfectly content to be there with him, and would have spent another two weeks holed up playing video games and cooking and watching Spanish soap operas.

No one stopped them when they reached the lobby, though a doorman did greet him as Mr. Moreno, which sent Elain spiraling into giggles. Azriel scowled, fingertips pressed against the small of her back while herding her into an elevator.

There was another round of giggling when he led her inside, revealing a spartanly decorated space in clean lines of black and silver. Azriel stalked in, ignoring her breathless laughter though the twitching corners of her lips told her he wasn’t that annoyed. Merely amused by her reaction and, perhaps, secretly pleased to be the subject of her joy.

Maybe she was projecting that hope, though.

He reached for her, fingers gliding over the floral fabric of her blue and yellow patterned sundress, while his other hand tucked a curl behind her ear. “How’s this for a couple weeks?” Elain looked over his broad shoulder, rising up on her tiptoes to survey the spacious living room.

“Another couch, I see,” she teased, thinking the nice leather didn’t seem like the sort of place she ought to put her bare ass.

“My bed is much nicer,” he told her, pulling her with him through a half open door. “And has the better television.”

He wasn’t lying about that. Azriel’s bed looked big enough for four men his size, framed by a wall of glass windows overlooking the city. Across was a massive television framed in more silver.

A shelf just beneath held sleek gaming systems, she assumed to play more than racing games.

“Want to see the closet?” he asked, pulling her further across the room, where she found a darkened bathroom and, just across, a walk in closet he was not making good use of. “For all your shoes.”

She pulled from his grasp. “What do you know about my shoes?”

His smile was lascivious. “Almost as much as I know about your underwear.”

She swatted at his stomach. “Snoop.”

“Do you like it, though?”

“Temporarily,” she agreed. That seemed to satisfy him, though. Enough for him to pull her back against him for a slow, deep kiss. It seemed like a dream—that this was happening, that she could have him, could stay in her home.

“I’ll take whatever you’re offering,” Azriel told her. She believed it, though she needed to hear him say more.

“And if I wanted to leave you?” she breathed, lips ghosting over his own.

“I hope you kill me before you go,” he replied, threading his fingers through her hair to pull her back for a bruising kiss. “I don’t think I could stand living like I was before.”

With his tongue in her mouth, there was no way for her to respond to that. Maybe that was for the best, because Elain might have told him everything. She might have confided how miserable she was leading up to the days before he’d shown up, how she’d gone home that day expecting to find nothing but misery.

How in his own weird, roundabout way, he’d saved her. And even though she knew he thought of himself as a monster, Elain didn’t think that was true. Not to her, anyway. No, to Elain, Azriel had rescued her. He had saved her.

They spent the night there, doing nothing but touching—so much endless, desperate touching. And when the first light of dawn poked through the glass, settling like golden shadow against his face, Elain forced herself to say the things she didn’t want to.

Rolled on her bare stomach, still dripping from the mess he’d made between her thighs, Elain brushed thick locks of his dark hair off his face.

“I want to call Graysen today.”

Azriel stiffened. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I want to end things—”

“Your father hasn’t paid the ransom,” he reminded her, as if Elain cared.

“I’ll pay it,” she said. Azriel narrowed his eyes.

“Then what lesson does your father learn?”

She blinked. “Who cares?”

He raised himself up on his elbows. “This is about more than just me and you.”

Cold disappointment tingled down her spine, causing her heart to race. “So what is it, then? I continue to date him until when, exactly? It no longer benefits you?”

Azriel winced. “Of course not.”

“What happens when he never pays, Az? Am I to be your captor forever? Or what—your boss says you better kill me—”

“Stop it,” he whispered, his voice vicious. Elain scrambled back, nearly falling off the bed when he lunged. It did her no good given how much faster Azriel was, how much stronger. He yanked her beneath him and when Elain slapped at his chest, he responded by kissing her roughly. Elain went to hit him across the face but Azriel was always one step ahead of her. He pinned her wrists over her head while leveraging his much larger body to keep her pinned to the bed.

“Let me go,” she whispered, hating the way tears burned in her throat.

“No,” he replied, cocking his head. Guessing correctly that the last thing she wanted was for him to take his hands off her. “Not now, not ever.”

“I hate him,” she whispered, turning her face so Azriel wouldn’t see her cry. “I hate him so much.”

“I know you do,” he replied with a sigh. “Trust me, Elain. Trust me.”

Elain drew breath. “This is going to end in heartache, Az.”

“It won’t,” he disagreed, using his free hand to tilt her chin so she had to look back at him. “Trust me, princess.”

Elain closed her eyes, willing herself not to admit that she did. He knew it, though. He knew when he kissed her and certainly when he released his hold on her wrists. If he hadn’t, though, he would have when she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he told her, fingers stroking her cheek. “No one is going to hurt you. Never again, Elain.”

She could have drowned in that dark, hazel stare.

“I want to be free of him.”

“You already are,” Azriel insisted, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. “I swear it.”

Elain breathed in the heady, masculine scent of his skin as she forced herself to calm down. Azriel held her, face buried in her hair as he whispered, “It was over before I met you. You owe him nothing.”

“What if it had been you?” she asked him, letting him raise himself up on his elbows. “If I had been taken from you?”

Anger flashed hotly over his features. “If he tried to take you from me?” Azriel asked her, those eyes darker than she’d ever seen them.

“Yes. You…you wouldn’t give him money—”

“I would,” he interrupted, his voice icy. “I would have paid him for you, and then I would have killed him for daring to touch you as soon as I had you back. Don’t doubt for a second the depths I’d go to keep you. There is no low I wouldn’t stoop, Elain.”

She shivered, despite the warmth radiating from him.

“You’re mine,” he said, mouth against her neck. “You must know it, now.”

She was his the moment she’d plunged that knife in Hyberns neck. She started to just tell him, but the shrill ring of his phone took him away. Scowling and swearing under his breath, but away all the same.

Elain quietly dressed as Azriel barked one word responses into the phone. By the time he turned, she knew exactly what he was going to say. His eyes raked over the dress, lips forming the most pathetic frown.

“Come on,” he said, sighing heavily. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Back to the cabin?” she guessed. Azriel nodded.

“Just a few more days. A week, max. Princess, come on. Don’t look at me with those eyes. I can’t stand it.”

He was quick to throw something on before coming back to her, too clothed for her liking. Elain skittered back, determined to still be upset with him. Azriel wasn’t having it.

“Tell me what you’ll do when we’re free of this,” he demanded, hoisting her up in his arms with ease. “Besides me. The very first thing—besides swallow my cock—did you just bite me?”

He didn’t release her, and how he managed to get them out the door was a mystery. “You’re very biteable.”

“You’re a brat,” he replied, affection lacing the words. “Tell me what you want to do first?”

Elain pressed her cheek against his chest. “Anything I want?”

“I already said you can’t ask for my cock—don’t you dare bite me again.”

She was laughing, their earlier argument forgotten as he brought her into the deserted elevator. “I want my own bakery.”

“Like…to own a bakery?”

“Yes,” she replied, looking up at him. There was an almost dreamy quality to his expression, softening the sharpness of his beautiful face.

“I know just the place,” he said. Elain’s stomach flipped in her stomach. One day she swore she’d tell him everything. How these small, inconsequential moments meant everything to her—how his hopes about her future, one that he wanted to share with her, had convinced her she loved him.

Instead, Elain slid happily back into the car and convinced him with relative ease to let her pick the music. And though he complained, he didn’t stop her from turning it up loud or singing along, nor did he take his hand off her knee. In fact, she’d never seen him so relaxed when they reached the snowy drive of the cabin. He was grinning when he jogged over to her door, offering her a broad hand so she didn’t slip on ice.

“I was thinking,” he began, one arm slung over her shoulder. “That tonight we could cook dinner again—”

Elain didn’t register what happened with any immediacy. He’d been smiling when he pulled open the front door, and then he wasn’t. His body was over hers—and she was on the ground. Ears ringing in her skull while something wet dripped over her chest.

Azriel’s voice came back to her first. “Get up—baby get up—”

She couldn’t move. Elain blinked, reaching for him. There was blood on his shirt. Azriel twisted, looking at something in the hall she couldn’t see.

“You’re hurt,” she whispered, willing herself to stand up. Azriel was positioned defensively, eyes darting between her and the couch she could just barely see. “Az—”

“Baby,” he interrupted with those frantic eyes. “Princess. You’re okay. Just—just take a breath.”

“You’re hurt,” she repeated, the words metallic on her tongue. She could taste blood in her mouth.

Azriel winced, his hand pressed against his side. “There’s a gun,” he told her, nodding toward the couch. “Go—”

Elain did move then, leaving him in front of the open door to rip the cushions off the couch. She found the gun he’d once told her was unloaded—the liar—and made her way back to him mere moments before Graysen stepped around the corner. He was flanked by two burly looking men she’d never seen, both with guns trained on Azriel.

She was going to be sick. “Gray,” she said, one hand thrown over Azriel’s form. “What have you done?”

“I’ve rescued you,” he said coldly. “Where is your gratitude, Elain?”

A nightmare was unfurling before her eyes. Elain could see how this would play out and wondered if there was a way it could end without Azriel’s death.

“You’ve shot a man,” she said, tugging Azriel’s bicep. They hadn’t seemed to realize she’d tucked a gun under Azriel’s body, perhaps assuming she wouldn’t dare try and help him. “I’m not hurt. See?”

Graysen’s eyes raked over her darkly. She could read every terrible thought on his face.

“I suppose he didn’t have the time, given he was fucking you like an animal.”

“Gray—”

“Get up,” he ordered. “Get the fuck up right now.”

Elain stood slowly. “Swear you won’t hurt him.”

Two guns shifted, pointed directly at her. “I’ll kill you!” Azriel swore from the ground, for all the good it did. Elain swallowed her fear, heart pounding wildly in her chest.

“Gray,” she whispered. “It’s over. I’m not hurt–you’re not like him. You’re not…you’re not a killer. Please,” she added, praying he thought her tears were for him and not the bleeding man at her feet. “Please just—let's just go home. Please?”

Graysen looked at Azriel, his hatred plain. “If I leave him unharmed, you’ll come home with me?”

“Yes,” she agreed, not daring to look at Azriel. Would he understand this bargain was for his life? That Elain would have done anything to keep him from dying in front of her.

Graysen nodded at the men beside him, who dropped their guns. Elain exhaled before forcing a smile on her face. “You found me.”

Graysen stepped over Azriel’s body like it was worth nothing and Elain didn’t dare look down. “Of course I found you,” he said, pressing the worst kiss she’d ever tasted to her salt soaked mouth. “Did you doubt I would?”

“No,” she lied, watching the men with guns follow just behind. Elain stepped into the cold, not daring to look back at Azriel.

A hand curled around her arm, pulling her toward a car she hadn’t seen when she’d pulled up. Someone was driving—had they been followed? Graysen wasn’t touching her as he strode toward the passenger door. It was one of the men with guns dragging her now.

The other was still standing by the cabin. She couldn't see Azriel any more.

“Get in, Elain,” Graysen said.

“Gray,” Elain tried, her desperation betraying her. Had she truly believed just this once Graysen would be honorable? That just this once he wasn’t a liar?

“Kill him.”

Elain screamed, twisting against the bruising grip on her arm. She was shoved viciously into the same car Graysen was in, the door slammed in her face before she could catch her breath. The second man began prowling forward while Elain ripped at the door handle, but it was no use.

“Look what you made me do, Elain,” Graysen said as the car backed out of the drive. “Did you have fun fucking the monster?”

The sound of gunfire punctuated the question. Graysen, of course, didn’t really want an answer, nor did he expect one.

Elain swallowed the urge to cry. She hadn’t gotten to tell Azriel she loved him, and he’d died not knowing. It was all she could think about. He hadn’t known. He’d died planning to help her open a bakery—had died planning dinner.

She hadn’t told him she loved him.

Graysen had no idea what a monster was.

Elain was going to show him.

#elriel #elain x azriel #dont look at me like that #im not azriel im not moved by your eyes #you should know if you see a separatist apologist mafia fic that this is the direction we're going #and if youre new here welcome to hell

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