Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Stay. 

Azriel woke up with a gasp.
There was the sun in his eyes and Eris in his arms. Danger and anticipation clung to him, and he didn’t know what to do.
He was lost, and yet, his soul sang for the first time in a long time as if he was exactly where he should be.
He felt warm and he felt safe, in the enemy territory. Eris was the High Lord. He was safe and he was his mate. 
So much had changed in the span of twenty four hours. So much still to be done. 
So much still to understand.
Memories of the previous night flashed across Azriel’s brain; the way Eris’ body arched in pleasure was exquisite, the way his eyes rolled back in ecstasy was bewitching, and the way he’d let go was truly spectacular.
Azriel shuddered, skin burning with the memory, and hopefully a promise. More.
Did he want more? 
He shouldn’t.
Eris was stunning and he was dangerous. He was devastating and breathtaking. Soft lips and sharp edges.  
Terrifyingly beautiful. 
Azriel revelled in that tender moment between sleep and wakefulness, lost in the rhythm of Eris’ heartbeat, in the constellations of his freckles. Maybe he never wanted it to end. He wanted to fall asleep in the warmth of this embrace and never face the world again.
He wanted to keep Eris, just like that—lovely and delicate. Deadly and fragile, nuzzled against the smoky wisps of the Illyrian tattoos against Azriel’s chest. It felt right, even if it was wrong.
He wanted to breathe in the smell of rain and leaves and forest. He wanted to touch and he wanted to hold. 
He wanted to pull him closer and then he wanted to push him away. 
He just… wanted. He wanted too much. He craved everything. Just when he’d thought he had all that he deserved.
He acted on instinct, wrapping his arms around Eris’ sleeping form and cradling the other male’s broad shoulders. Eris’ head rested against Azriel’s frantic heart.
Content. 
Contempt. 
Beauty and terror. 
He tried to battle the warmth that spread within him. He tried to quench the feelings and needs and wants that raced within him.
Monsters didn’t deserve this—no happiness, no feeling. 
He was used to fabricated emotions and rehearsed actions. He wasn’t ready to feel so full.
He trembled as he held Eris.
Tight. Tighter. 
Desperately. 
Don’t wake up. Not yet.
“Shhh…” a strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, pulling him back together, holding him whole. And he wanted to cry, and he wanted to scream, and he didn’t know what to do. 
He wasn’t used to feeling this way. He wasn’t used to being vulnerable. He wasn’t used to being weak. 

Eris woke up. 
Warm and fuzzy, and soft. And he was held, and he felt small, and he wanted it all. 
He let himself bask in that softness. He let himself float in that delirious pleasure of being so close, so full, so safe.
But he couldn’t stand the frantic heartbeat against his temple. 
He couldn’t force him any longer. 
He’d gotten what he wanted. He’d had his mate. 
Even if just for the night. 
Even if just for a moment. 
It would be enough. It had to. He was ready to pay this price.
The memories would stay as he succumbed to madness. He would laugh himself hoarse, he’d cry, he’d scream—all because of those few moments of bliss his mate had allowed him.
But not yet. 
Not yet.
“It’s alright, Azriel. You can pretend a little longer. Just a little longer, please.” He was desperate. He would beg. Just for a few more heartbeats of that. 
Just a few more minutes of feeling loved—even if it was a lie.
Pathetic. 
“I don’t—I don’t want to pretend…” the Shadowsinger said quietly. As if he didn’t believe his own words. 
“Don’t lie to me. I can’t bear it,” Eris said, burying his face against Azriel’s frantic heart, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to shield himself from the world. “I can’t take it anymore.”
Scarred fingers wound into his sleep-tousled hair, massaging, exploring, unsure. Eris let himself be held. He let out a shaky breath and willed his body to stop trembling. He could be strong, he could survive the rejection.
“I’m here,” Azriel whispered.
“But you don’t want to be…”
“I—
“Tell me. Just say it.” Eris’ breaths quickened, his heart raced, his soul wept. “Reject it. Go.”
“Why me? Why don’t you?”
“I can’t!” Eris cried out. “ It’s all I have …”
But I can’t have you.
Azriel froze and his hold tightened. Tears, hot and unwanted, forced their way out of Eris’ eyes, down his cheeks..
“I—
“Leave.”
“ No. ”

Azriel stayed. Even though he wanted to go—should go. He stayed, because the thought of leaving was more terrifying than any monster he’d ever faced. 
His soul, his heart, his mind, all torn to pieces at the thought of letting go. 
His arms had never felt so full. His body had never felt so warm. His whole being had never felt so at peace. 
It was all so sick and twisted, but he stayed. With every minute that passed as he listened to Eris’ breathing, it felt less like a compulsion, and more like a decision. Less like a desperate confusion, and more like a conscious choice, despite the bond. He could walk away, he was sure of it, but he wasn’t so sure anymore that he wanted to.
How did Eris endure it for all those centuries? How had he quenched that thirst, that need, that want?
“Tell me what to do, tell me how to do it.” 
“Why?”
“Because I want you to.”
“Do you want me too?”
Yes. No. Maybe. 
It was all or nothing. 
Something and everything. 
Beauty and terror. Love and hate. Flames and shadows.
“I don’t know. I don’t know you, not really.”
“Do you…
“I think, maybe, I’d like to,” Azriel said, and even though the words were unexpected and unplanned, even though it felt like it wasn’t really him saying it, he believed it. 
He wanted to. 
Maybe… just maybe, he wanted Eris.
He wanted to want him. 
He needed to need him. 
He hated to hate him. 
“What now?” Azriel asked, unsure. 
“Nothing. Just hold me. Sleep in. Eat breakfast with me. Make love to me. Just be. And when we both just are , we’ll figure it out,” Eris said, his voice hoarse and wrecked and small. “Just…just don’t pity me.”
And so Azriel did all of it, and he didn’t pity Eris. 
And then he did some of those things again and again, until they were both breathless and couldn’t take anymore. Until they both just were , spent and sated and exhausted. And until Eris remembered he had a job to do and the court to fix and until Azriel had to go back to the Night Court. 
And so they promised to do it again. 
They promised they would try.

Days passed.
Azriel was restless.
“You have to go back,” Rhys said
“I don’t want to.” He craved it.
“You need him.”
“I don’t.” He did.
“Go back. We’ll figure it out.”
He was tired of hearing that.

Days passed.
Eris was tired.
He was tired of feeling like his heart was being ripped apart.
He was burning, and suffering, and it was all too much, and it was unbearable, and he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve a bond, he was not worthy of a mate. All he deserved was the pain and suffering, and that, he had in abundance. 
He had tricked himself for centuries, thinking he could do it. 
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not alone. Not anymore. Not without him.
Not when he’d had a taste.
Not when he knew what he could never have.
He couldn’t take it anymore. 

Eris found Azriel later that night, perched on his window. He gasped and started, mouth agape, eyes wide. He didn’t expect him.
Azriel tried to look confident, but he felt out of place. He wanted to stay away, but when he’d asked his shadows to take him home, that’s where they had brought him. 
Autumn Court. Eris. Home. 
Despite his better judgement, he was here. And he wasn’t mad. He was ready.
“Why are you here?” Eris asked, surprise lacing his heavenly voice.
“I—I had to.” You’re home.
“But you didn’t want to?”
“I promised I would try. You promised.” I wanted to, I wanted to, I wanted… I wanted.
Eris stifled a gasp as if he didn’t believe it. 
“Do you still hate me?”
“I don’t know.” He didn’t. 

It wasn’t a lie.
He was here. Here.
Azriel.
Eris wanted to laugh and he wanted to cry. Again and again. He wanted to drop to his knees and sob. Instead, he breathed in deeply, poising himself—ready for the blow. 
What now?
“Come here,” Azriel said, reaching out his scarred hand. 
And Eris took it without thinking, and it was electric.
“I want this, please,” Eris breathed, basking in the warmth of the bond that spread within his chest. It was divine and he wanted it to consume him, warm him, fix him, keep him together.
“You can have it,” Azriel said. 
“What about you ?” 
You, all of you.
Azriel paused. “Yes,” he said simply and pulled Eris against his chest. 
They collided, and they kissed and all was well. Even if just for a moment.
Eris let himself get lost in the need, the feeling, the desperate want. He took it all; the teeth, the tongue, the nails against his skin. 
And he wanted more. 
“I can’t get enough,” Azriel growled. “I-I’m so… so—
“I know,” Eris said, kissing him harder, pulling at the leathers of the Illyrian armour as if his life depended on it. And, maybe, it did. He understood what Azriel felt—the constant hunger, the desperate craving, the gaping hole in his chest where his heart lay bared, for his mate to do with as he pleased.
“I’m so empty without you,” Azriel managed into the kiss. The air was hot, the clothes too tight, the need too overwhelming. 
Eris chuckled. Then laughed, really laughed, the first time in days, months, maybe years. “I can fill you up, Shadowsinger, just say the word.” He laughed, and they kissed, and they couldn’t stop, and it felt so right. Like they should have been doing it for centuries.
But Azriel didn’t laugh. “Please,” he said instead, and Eris let the flames of his desire consume him. 
“Anything, Azriel. Ask and it’s yours. I’m yours.” 
Take me. Break me. Do with me as you wish.
Azriel was upon him in seconds, like a predator. And Eris didn’t mind being the prey. He welcomed the scarred hand that closed around his throat. He pushed into the fingers, needed more, needed to feel it. Feel something. Feel all of it. Anything.
He let his flames free, and watched, with delirious fascination as the Illyrian leathers burned into nothingness right off Shadowsinger’s body. 
Beautiful. 
Terrifying. 

Azriel gasped as the cobalt blaze erupted around him, inside him. He watched them—fear grazing the tips of his consciousness—as they danced across his naked body. 
“Eris?” He couldn’t help the alarmed tinge of his voice, but his mate—his mate, his mate, his mate —only smiled and the same fire enveloped his body too. Burning, scorching, leaving them both bare. 
It was warm, it didn’t burn, it didn’t hurt. No cruel laugh rang in his ears. He didn’t cry out in pain and shame and humiliation. He was burning, but he was free. It was new, it was incredible, it was terrifying. And he wanted to burn forever. His fingers trembled with the memory of his childhood torment, he couldn’t help it, but he let himself be consumed. 
“Don’t be afraid, Azriel,” Eris said, as if he could feel it. As if he knew.
“I’m not. I’m here. I want to burn…”
“With me?”
“With you. For you. Inside of you.” 
“Then let’s burn,” Eris said and flames erupted around them anew. His scorching hands wrapped around them and they whirled in the smoke and shadows until they were on the bed as soft as a cloud. The same bed where Azriel woke up all those days ago, the same bed where he wanted to spend eternity listening to Eris’ even breathing as he slept, curled against Azriel’s chest. 
Eris’ lips were as hot as his hands when they closed around Azriel’s twitching length. Shadows danced in the auburn hair and Azriel was lost. He wrapped the fiery strands around his fingers and pulled. 
Eris’ copper eyes were glazed, his lips shining with spit and precome. He was beautiful. He wanted to break him. He wanted to hold him. He wanted everything. Azriel watched, transfixed, as his shadows wrapped around his mate’s neck, just tight enough to make him gasp, just tight enough to make his narrow hips buck into the soft sheets he was sprawled on, just tight enough to make him let out a strangled moan. 
He was at Azriel’s mercy. He submitted. He was perfect. Waiting. 
Azriel trembled with untamed need. He wanted so much. 
“Let me take care of you, Shadowsinger. Let me still that mind of yours.” Again, as if he knew. And, maybe, he did.
Azriel didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if he could just let go of that power. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to submit.
“Trust me.” Azriel did. He let go of Eris’ hair, but his shadows remained, tight and soft around his mate’s neck. A claim.
He was gorgeous like that. Naked, but wreathed in shadows. His.
Azriel let his hands fall onto the bed by his head, his wings flared beneath him, spreading across the bed. 
This is me. All of me.
Broken and scarred. 
Eris rose to his knees between Azriel’s spread legs and watched him in silence. Azriel tried not to squirm and turn away as the copper eyes mapped every inch of his flushed body, his shallow breathing, every scar and every tattoo. He hummed to himself, long fingers drawing lazy circles along Azriel’s thigh, as his attention shifted to the wings, splayed on the bed. Azriel was suddenly conscious of every mark and tear, every scar that countless wars and battles left on them. 
“Beautiful,” Eris said at last, and the shadows danced around his neck, as if in approval, slipping down to caress his scarred chest. 
Azriel wanted to tell him that he was beautiful too, that he should wear the shadows around his neck as he ruled his court, that he was perfection. But his voice was lost. 
All that was left was a needy whimper, and he wasn’t ashamed. 
“It seems that it is indeed true what they say about Illyrians and their wingspans,” Eris whispered, lowering his scorching, pink lips to graze Azriel’s painfully hard cock. 
He could burst right there, right then, but he needed more. He needed all of it. Everything that Eris would give him. 
Eris’s lips were magnetic, his finger’s were sin, his tongue was magic.
Every inch of Azriel’s body was aflame, every brush of Eris’ fingers left a scorching trail and Azriel writhed, and he wanted to beg and he wanted to scream, and he moaned, and he whimpered. 
Eris’ fingers pushed into him and pumped relentlessly, and Azriel was gone. He let his eyes roll back in ecstasy, and he let go. He was ready to give everything, to submit, to trust. 
“More,” he managed and Eris' lips slid off his cock with a devastating slurp and he laughed. Not the maniacal laughter Azriel knew. No, this was joy, this was mirth, this was Eris. And Azriel knew, as his mate’s fingers wrapped around his hips, turning him around, effortlessly, that he would never have enough.

“Sing for me,” Eris said, lifting Azriel’s hips off the bed, and spreading his legs as far as he could, admiring the view before him for a second before his tongue plunged to where his fingers had just been.
And the Shadowsinger sang the purest tune of broken moans and pleas. 
He begged for Eris to keep going, just like that. 
He screamed for more.
And Eris was ready to give and give, and give. Everything, for eternity. Anything for those sweet moans and whimpers, anything to feel Azriel push into his touch, fuck himself on his tongue. Wings flared above him, and he couldn’t stop it, he reached out and brushed a featherlight touch along the membrane. 
Azriel went still, head buried in the pillow, his breathing laboured, back arched beautifully. 
“N—no…” he whimpered, and Eris watched his mate’s hand travel beneath him, to grab at his heavy cock, wrapping tightly, pinching the tip. 
Oh. Oh. 
“Let me,” Eris breathed. “ Please. ”
Azriel’s back arched further, baring his clenching centre to Eris’ starved eyes. His wings rustled and trembled, and the flush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and his shoulders. 
He was breathtaking.  
“Fuck,” Azriel swore and let go of his cock, folding his hands above his head. Shadows slithered from Eris’ neck, wrapping tight around Azriel’s wrists. 
Eris was entranced as he leaned back down, allowing himself the last luxurious lick, the last decadent plunge of his tongue into the clenching heat of Azriel’s hole. 
He scraped his blunt nails along Azrie’s spine, between his wings, and watched as the muscles of his tattooed back flexed.
He was spectacular.
He wrapped his hand around his own, neglected, cock and pumped once, twice, three times, watching Azriel beneath him, tied up, wholly at his mercy, his body begging for more, before he plunged in. He pushed the head past the clenching ring of muscles, to the music of Azriel’s breathy moans.
Perfection. 
“Relax,” he whispered, brushing his fingers along Azriel’s lower back, and watched as he arched even further. 
“Please,” the Shadowsinger whimpered. 
“You’re beautiful,” Eris whispered, lowering himself, pushing in, and in and in, to Azriel’s heavenly voice. 
No wonder he commanded shadows when he sang like that. 
Eris shuddered as he bottomed out. 
He licked at the membrane of Azriel’s left wing and lost himself in the scream of pleasure, the clenching of muscles around his cock. So he did it again, and again, as he moved his hips back and forth. 
“Touch me, touch me, touchmetouch—
“I don’t think I have to,” Eris whispered and picked up his pace, kissing down Azriel’s wing. He let his hand wander down the length of the other wing and Azriel was done for. He writhed and screamed and begged and pleaded. 
But Eris was relentless.
“ No—
“Let go.”
“Not like this. I can’t,” Azriel begged, and Eris wanted to laugh at how the tables had turned. 
“Let. Go.”
And Azriel did. 
With a cry and a scream and the flare of his wings, he was coming, and writhing, and he was incredible. And Eris followed him, because he couldn’t wait any longer. He trembled, and he shook and his vision turned white, and then he was no more. The golden threat between their souls was alive, and thrumming, and tickling at his heart and his consciousness.
He collapsed on top of Azriel. 
Spent and sated, and he was happy, and he was whole. 
Azriel whimpered, and Eris rolled off of him, off his wings, and dropped heavily by his mate’s side, pulling him close, holding him tight. He welcomed the shadows that wrapped themselves back around his neck and the wing that covered him from the chill of the room. 
A claim. 
And he was happy to submit. 
“Is it always like that?” Azriel asked, voice small, face hidden in the crook of Eris’ neck, his breath hot on his flushed skin. 
“I hope so. Let’s find out.”
He felt, rather than heard Azriel’s quiet chuckle. 
“I—I think, I’m a little hungry,” Azriel whispered.