Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

PROLOGUE- ten years earlier:

Gwyneth Bedara stepped beneath the overhead lights of the stadium, one hand raised over her eyes. The roar of the crowd was only dimmed by the unintelligible boom of the marching band sitting in the middle of the bleachers. Cheerleaders waved pom poms from the sidelines of the football field, drawing Gwyns attention to the boys in blue and gold uniforms, tensed as they waited for that whistle. 

Beside her, Nesta Archeron’s silvery blue eyes scanned the football players for the person she’d come to see—Cassian Windhaven. Star quarterback with a full ride to some D1 school that Nesta almost certainly wasn’t attending. Not that Gwyn would ever mention that, of course. She understood what it was like to have a crush. 

Her eyes slid over the crowd, looking for him. This game was important—it was homecoming and against a rival school. Senior year saw even the most apathetic of seniors show up for school spirit and events, and in the case of Azriel Valdez, he was hardly an exception. She found him lounging with Rhysand Darcel. They didn’t know her outside of Nesta, who had been dodging Cassian’s advances since the fifth grade.

This year was different, though Gwyn didn’t know how exactly. In the past, Nesta would have rather eaten dirt than come and watch Cassian play and she certainly wouldn’t have picked a seat close enough that both Rhys and Azriel could see. And they did, eyes drifting towards her with a smirk on their faces. 

“Scoot!” a masculine voice interrupted Gwyn’s thoughts. Lucien Vanserra had come to join, pushing between Gwyn and Emerie.

“Did you bring alcohol?” Emerie whispered, looking at the thermos in his hand. Lucien, their schools best soccer player, snorted a laugh.

“I wish. I can’t risk my spot up at Yale. This is water, you lush.”

Nesta wrinkled her nose, eyes sliding back to the field. For a moment, the four of them were quiet, trying to decide if they were going to pretend football was interesting and Nesta was there for the game and not the man currently streaking across the field, ball tucked beneath his arm.

“So,” Lucien said with a shit eating grin. “Cassian, huh?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. Leave it to a Vanserra to just come right out and say it. “How’s Elain?”

He scowled. Nesta wasn’t the only one with a crush. Gwyn couldn’t help but look back at Azriel, sitting to the left and six rows beneath her. He didn’t notice her at all, too busy staring at something on the field. She noticed him, though. She’d been noticing him since middle school when he’d transferred in and immediately made friends with Rhys and Cassian. Azriel was tall, all dark hair pushed off his face and warm brown skin. He’d been lanky back then but not anymore. He looked like a man at just eighteen, muscular and broad, his chiseled jaw always graced with a five o’clock shadow. Dressed in a black t-shirt and well fitted jeans, Gwyn couldn’t help but stare at his bulging bicep, already tattooed even though she’d heard he’d gotten in trouble with the school for it. 

He’d never noticed her and Gwyn didn’t blame him. Azriel was hot, he was popular, he was all the things Gwyn was not. While he played soccer with Lucien, Gwyn played chess and was in all the school musicals. The only reason he acknowledged her at all was Nesta, who was so stunning it was impossible not to, even if his best friend wasn’t stupidly infatuated with her. 

Still, in Gwyn’s fantasies—the ones she’d only ever dared to tell Nesta and Emerie—he saw her and he liked what he saw. Beneath the lanky frame and the freckles, he could see her instead of the outward dork everyone else saw. 

She realized too late he was looking at Elain Archeron. Fuck me, Gwyn thought miserably. Him and everyone else. He could get in line right behind Lucien, who was in a line behind her actual boyfriend, Graysen Nolan. And behind Azriel was the rest of the school, save for Cassian and maybe Rhys, who was too busy fucking anything and everything that moved to notice one solitary girl. 

Gwyn sighed, looking away before it soured her mood. At least he couldn’t have Elain. That made her feel a little better, but just barely. Gwyn threw herself into the conversation, forcing herself not to think of Azriel at all. He didn’t matter—he was just a stupid boy, always thinking with his stupid penis.  

The game ended in a win and as the crowd pushed outward, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie moved down, holding hands until they were standing at the railing. Cassian was jogging forwards, helmet tucked beneath his arm. He was grinning at Nesta, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Long, dark hair was plastered on his ruggedly handsome face and without word or warning, Cassian surged upwards, practically throwing himself over the railing so he could grab Nesta and press a kiss to her mouth. Both Gwyn and Emerie slapped a hand over their own to keep from giggling. Behind Cassian, Rhys and Azriel were frozen, eyes wide with surprise. 

“When did this happen?” Azriel asked, his deep voice making Gwyn shudder.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Emerie replied easily, unmoved by his good looks. Nesta pushed, her face flushed but Cassian was undeterred.

“You came. I knew there was something lucky about this game,” he breathed. Sweat rolled off his forehead, dripping against his uniform. Nesta had her fingertips pressed to her lips and Gwyn knew, in that moment, Cassian had her. Her and Emerie reached for Nesta, curling their hands around Nesta’s arm and pulling her back.

It was at that exact moment that Azriel’s eyes slid to Gwyn, pinning her in place for only a moment. His mouth quirked into a smile, lips forming the words, “Hey,” to which Gwyn immediately responded, “Hey,” back.

Only for Elain Archeron to bounce into view. He wasn’t looking at Gwyn at all. Just Elain, in her tiny blue and gold skirt and her tanned legs. Golden brown hair, pulled off her face with a gold scrunchy swayed almost hypnotically, drawing Azriel’s gaze. Gwyn wanted to melt into the floor.

Elain, utterly unaware of how he watched her, smacked Cassian in the chest. “What is wrong with you?”

“She wanted it,” was Cassian’s absurd response. 

“Gross,” Elain replied, eyes sweeping over the three of them. “All of you are gross.”

Azriel’s smile immediately faded and Gwyn decided, in that moment, she liked the cheerleader, if only for making Azriel feel as badly as she currently felt. 

“It’s fine,” Nesta breathed, ending things before Rhys could jump in with his loud, unnecessary opinion. “Really. I uh…I’ll talk to you later, Cass.”

Rhys and Azriel’s faces lit up and the use of the nickname.

“Cass?” Rhys all but choked. “Should we be writing a wedding speech?”

“Shut up,” Cassian retorted, elbowing his friend hard in the ribs. “I’ll catch you around, Nes.”

“Oh my God,” Emerie whispered. 

They pulled Nesta back, Elain bouncing on their heels. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, though they were smart enough to say nothing as they thundered over the metal bleachers and down the steps to the pavement. Behind them, Rhys and Azriel were giving Cassian a very hard, very loud time. Nesta’s cheeks burned, either from humiliation or embarrassment. 

The very first thing Nesta said, once they reached the parking lot, was, “Don’t tell dad.”
Elain scoffed but Emerie cut her off.

“What’s going on with you and Cassian?”

Nesta mumbled something hiding her face in her long, golden brown hair. 

“What was that?” Gwyn demanded, a grin stealing over her face. She had absolutely heard everything Nesta said.

“I said, he took me on a date the other night,” Nesta managed, her whole face the color of Gwyn’s hair. 

“And you don’t tell us?!” Emerie demanded, tossing her long, chestnut colored braid off her shoulder. 

“It didn’t mean anything,” Nesta, the liar, said.

“It clearly meant something to Cassian,” Elain interrupted with a sly smile. “If he’s calling you good luck.”

Nesta wrenched open the door to her car, letting Emerie take shotgun while Gwyn awkwardly climbed in the back beside Elain. 

“It’s not a big deal–”

“Does Cassian know that?” Gwyn teased. Nesta glanced in the rearview mirror at her, eyes sharp.

“Does Az know?” Nesta retorted.

“Oh hey, come on,” Emerie interjected as Elain sat forward, looking at Gwyn.

“You like Az?” she asked curiously. Gwyn was staring daggers at Nesta. The last thing she needed was Nesta’s busybody sister telling everyone that she liked Azriel.

Emerie smacked Nesta in the arm. “Way to be a bitch.”

“Elain isn’t going to say anything,” Nesta protested while Elain nodded, hand over her heart.

“I swear. I’m just surprised…he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“What does that mean?” Gwyn replied a touch too defensive.

“He’s—”

“An ass,” Nesta interrupted firmly. “And you’re not.”

“Huge ass,” Elain agreed solemnly. “Multiple girls at once—”

“One night stands only,” Nesta added.

“How do you know this?” Emerie demanded, arms crossed over her chest. Nesta pulled onto the road that would take them back to her house where they would sleep for the night.

“Cassian told me—”

“Oh Cassian?” Gwyn demanded, grateful for the conversation to fall off her. “What else did Cassain say?”

The three gleefully piled on Nesta, letting Gwyn’s humiliation with beautiful Azriel fall by the wayside. As long as he didn’t know, Gwyn didn’t care.

After all. The heart wanted what the heart wanted.

PRESENT DAY- 10 years later

Azriel felt a hand on his shoe, gripping before he was ripped from beneath the car he was working on. He grumbled, staring up into the face of his best friend. Cassian grinned, practically dripping with sweat.

“C’mon,” Cassian complained as Azriel sat up. “You’re gonna miss your fucking flight.”

Azriel wiped an equally sweaty forehead on his grease stained arm. 

“One more quick job,” he said, as if that had ever been true. He owned a string of repair shops around the city and on top of managing his business, he still liked to work on cars. Azriel had never stopped liking that, though he spent more time than he preferred sitting in an office pouring over paperwork. There was something cathartic about fixing a problem.

“Leave it for someone else,” Cassian ordered. He was allowed to be bossy—Cassian was getting married. After ten long years of trying to lock Nesta Archeron down, Cassian had finally managed it. He’d had her their senior year of high school and a semester of college before she broke up with him, citing the long distance. Cassian had never quit, though. While Rhys and Azriel had chased anything that moved on two legs, Cassian had been fixated on his studies and his athletics, determined that when Nesta finished law school, he’d be the kind of man she wanted.

And fuck if it hadn’t paid off. Four years apart had made adults of them both. They dated four years, were engaged for two and now Nesta was getting her two week destination wedding on some beachy little island off Italy courtesy of her younger sister's husband. The whole thing was paid for by Vanserra money so long as they kept it relatively small. It was practically a high school reunion. One Azriel wanted to attend, anyway. He knew Nesta’s old high school friends would be there and obviously Cassian had never grown out of him and Rhys. 

More Vanserra’s, which Azriel could live without, and a few others he ought to have known but didn’t. 

Azriel was also the only person without a plus one, at least in the immediate wedding party. Nesta had all but begged him to bring someone. How did he explain there was no one? Some people were destined for marriage, like Cassian and others were destined for sloppy one nights that ended awkwardly. He fell into the latter camp. 

Azriel slid beneath the car before Cassian could stop him, tightening everything up before he emerged, still filthy on the oil splattered cement floor.

“This place will live two weeks without you,” Cassian informed him, like Cassian had the first inkling of what it took to run his shops. Still, Azriel had agreed and wanted to support Cassian and Nesta, who were practically like a brother and sister to him now. 

“I need to shower,” Azriel told him, offering no more acknowledgement than that. “And get my shit. What time does the flight leave?”

“Six hours, but you know Nes is already freaking out. Shit is already messed up–”

“What happened?” Azriel asked, climbing into the passenger seat of Cassian’s SUV. He coached football for the local community college and was always hauling his gear around. Cassian could have gone pro and Azriel wondered if Nesta knew he’d given that up for her. 

“Gwyn’s boyfriend broke up with her–”

“Who is Gwyn?” Azriel interrupted, trying to keep all Nesta’s friends straight in his head. Cassian glanced over, pulling out onto the street.

“You remember Gwyn. From highschool? She’s got the reddish brown hair, the blue eyes—”

“Oh fuck, the girl in all those musicals. I remember her,” he agreed, though he remembered her just barely. Cute as fuck and so quiet Azriel had never been able to figure out what to say to her. She was overshadowed by Nesta, always half a step behind just watching. Azriel could appreciate that, given how loud Rhys and Cassian had been. 

“Why’d he dump her?”

Cassian shrugged. “She dodged a fucking bullet if you ask me. That dude was pretentious as fuck, thought he was so goddamn smart. Imagine lecturing Lucien goddamn Vanserra on American soccer. Because he did last Christmas. He thought he knew everything.”

Azriel could imagine it, though he wouldn’t have. There had always been a weird rivalry between him and Vanserra in high school over Elain Archeron, as if she’d ever looked at either of them twice. Still, they’d tried, and Vanserra had won in college. Azriel didn’t begrudge him his wife or his nice life but that didn’t mean he liked him, either.

The feeling was mutual. 

“Nesta’s freaking out,” Cassian continued. “She had it all planned on even numbers with her and the girls.”

“Huh,” was all Azriel could think to say. It seemed like Nesta had been freaking out about everything since Cassian asked her to marry him. Azriel wasn’t sure what the big fuss was. How difficult was planning a wedding, in the scheme of things? It seemed like Nesta made it more complicated when, at its more barest essentials, was supposed to be about her and Cassian confirming they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. 

While Cassian unloaded his frustrations about the wedding, Azriel very quickly showered and grabbed his suitcase and passport. Time was ticking and the closer they got to their flights departure, the antsier Cassian became. Four hours. That was the window Nesta wanted them all to be at the airport. To do what, who knew? Azriel wanted to die by the time they got there, rolled out of the uber, and into the modern airport. Cassian had a bag he needed to check but Azriel only had his rolling suitcase and a backpack—more than enough for two weeks. He figured he could iron out his suit when he arrived. He sure as fuck wasn’t risking an airline losing his bag just so it showed up a little nicer. 

By the time they got through security, it was clear he and Cassian were the last ones to arrive. Nesta was pacing, arms crossed over her dark sweatshirt. She relaxed her body, though her eyes stayed tight and to avoid a fight, Azriel held up both hands.

“Blame me,” he told her as she hugged Cassian. “I had to take a shower.”

She exhaled. “No, it’s fine. We’re early.”

Cassian looked over Nesta’s head at Azriel, eyes wide as if to say obviously. 

“Is everyone here?” Cassian asked. Azriel drifted, dropping into an ugly gray chair close to the window. He set his bag just beneath his feet and fished out his phone from his pocket, checking his messages for the first time that day. The girl from last weekend was still texting, so obviously hopeful something was going to come out of it. Azriel didn’t know how much more clear he could be without just hurting her feelings. He’d said he didn’t want a relationship and he’d meant it. She, like too many others, was convinced she could change his mind, if the half naked picture staring him in the face was any indication. 

Azriel’s eyes drifted towards the terminal he was sitting in. Cassian was holding Nesta, her chin on his chest while she rapid fire spoke to him. Not far was Elain Vanserra, head on Lucien Vanserra’s shoulder staring down at her phone while he dozed. How long had they been here, Azriel wondered. 

He recognized Emerie from instagram—he’d been following her since she opened a clothing boutique not far from one of his auto bodies. She had her fingers laced with Rhys’s cousin Mor, knuckles to her lips while she spoke quietly. Feyre Archeron was on the other side of Mor making polite conversation with Rhys, who looked so utterly bored Azriel wondered what Feyre could possibly be saying. 

A few seats away from him, sitting diagonally, was Gwyn. He recognized her, though might not have known her name if Cassian hadn’t told him in the car. Coppery brown hair was pulled off her face in twin plaits. Tight leggings encased slim legs and an equally athletic top gave Azriel the general shape of her. Had she been this hot in high school? He genuinely could not remember. 

Head buds in her ears, Gwyn didn’t notice he was staring but Azriel did. Her teal eyes were glazed over, framed by dark lashes. Her full lips were shiny, her nose covered in the softest dusting of freckles. This was the newly single friend of Nestas? 

She blew out a breath, eyes snagging on his. He raised a hand to say hey, as if they’d ever been that sort of friend, embarrassed she’d caught him. Gwyn pulled her headphones out, surprising lighting over her features.

“Oh hey,” she said, her voice soft and pretty. Could voices even be pretty? Hers was. Azriel stretched out his legs, feeling strangely tight. 

“Hey,” he replied, suddenly unsure what he should even say. “You’re coming too?”

“Gangs all here,” she agreed cheerfully, tucking her own legs beneath her body. Gwyn tapped her fingers against her thighs and Azriel noted they weren’t painted. He didn’t know why, but he liked that. Every girl he spent time with made such a fuss over their nails, but Azriel worked in oil. Was covered in it. Maybe he liked the thought of someone who didn’t seem to mind if she wasn’t done up all the time. Someone he could put his grease stained hands on.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He didn’t know this woman.

“Wish we didn’t have to get here so early, though,” Gwyn added conspiratorially. “I’m more of a running through the airport kind of girl myself.”

Azriel snorted. “Nesta is particular.”

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she smiled and Azriel felt stupid in the light of it. “She deserves it, though, so I’ll be on time.”

Azriel nodded. “Cassian doesn’t. He’s still a bastard.”

She smiled again. “Best man?”

“Yup.”

Gwyn grinned. “Maid of honor. I guess we’ll be spending more time together.”

Hell yes.

“Lucky me, Gwyn,” he replied smoothly, privately delighted when she grinned ear to ear. 

“And here I was thinking you didn’t remember my name.”

“I saw Guys and Dolls,” he told her. That was true—Cassian had dragged both him and Rhys because Nesta had some small part and he had just started dating her. “You were Lola.”

Gwyn beamed, an absurd thing given that had been ten years ago.

“What do you do now?”

“Teach,” she replied easily. “College history. What about you?”

“Mechanic,” he replied, wondering if that made him look dumb. “I’ve got a bunch of shops.”

“Oh yeah! Emerie mentioned that, I totally forgot. How cool,” she said without an ounce of smug superiority. Azriel relaxed. Sometimes women liked to act like he was beneath them or they were doing him a favor just because he’d skipped out on college.

“Do you have a good seat?” she asked him. Azriel shook his head.

“I procrastinated. I’m in a middle seat.”

“Sit with me,” she offered. “It’ll make me feel like less of a loser and, as a bonus, you can have an aisle seat.”

Azriel pressed his lips together, eyebrows raised. “Awfully generous of you.”

“You can pay me back later by getting shit face drunk with me when we’re up in the air. We’ll need it given we’re across from Nesta and Cassian. They’re trying to join the mile high club.”

“Jesus Christ,” Azriel swore with a chuckle. “He doesn’t fit in one of those bathrooms.”

Gwyn nodded. “You’d be doing me a huge favor. No one will ask me about Jonathon.”

Jonathan. “Am I allowed to ask?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Maybe a little vodka will change your mind.”

She laughed. “I’ll take that wager.”

Competitive. He liked that. Azriel’s eyes swept over the terminal, catching on Nesta’s for just a moment. She was watching him, some unreadable expression on her face. Did she think he was up to something? Gwyn was nice and he was bored. He could make a friend, surely.

He shot Nesta a look back, one he hoped communicated he wasn’t up to anything nefarious, before turning back to Gwyn.

“If you get shitfaced, don’t ask me to carry your bags for you.”

“It’s gonna be you that’s shitfaced,” she shot back. “This is a nine hour flight. I’ve got nothing but time to drink you stupid.”

“Too late, Gwyn. I’m already stupid.”

She laughed, head thrown back, face filled with amusement. Fuck, but Azriel would have given anything to hear her laugh like that again. It was just a little pre-vacation magic, that was all. 

And Azriel desperately needed a little fun. 

GWYN:

True to her word, Nesta and Cassian were making out before everyone was even on board. Azriel was beside her, shoving his bag overhead since Nesta and Cassian’s things had to join their overhead bin. It was two spacious seats—big enough she could have curled her legs against Jonathon’s if she wanted to. 

She didn’t dare look at Azriel’s, stretched impossibly long into the seat in front of them. He was in basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt. It ought to have looked sloppy at best but with a face like his, he made it look like runway. He ran a broad hand through his thick, dark hair before turning to look at her with exasperation.

“Told you,” she said, pleased to be right. 

“Trade me,” he replied, as if Gwyn would ever give up a window seat. If the plane was going to crash, Gwyn needed to be able to watch the entire time. She could be a control freak that way.

Shaking her head, Gwyn pushed closer to her open window, looking down at the people in neon yellow vests loading up the luggage. She caught sight of her buttery yellow bag moments before it vanished. Good. This was a non-stop flight and she didn’t want to lose her bag. 

She relaxed into her seat. 

“Nope.”

“Tell me about Jonathon.”

She almost choked. As if she was going to tell Azriel, a literal Greek God come to life, anything about Jonathon. Everyone was dying to know and Gwyn had told a little white lie to keep her friends off her back. He dumped me meant everyone offered sympathy and generally didn’t bring him up.

I dumped him because he wanted to get married sounded a lot worse. It made her sound like a bitch even to her own ears. It was just…Jonathon was so pretentious, thought he was better than everyone because he had a PhD in literature, of all fucking things. He couldn’t write to save his life, despite talking about being a writer all the time. And Gwyn was tired of listening to self-aggrandizing lectures, his endless philosophizing, his moralizing. 

Case and point—Jonathon would never have agreed to get drunk on a plane with her. And if he’d caught Cassian and Nesta making out? He would have complained endlessly about how common people were. He couldn’t just have fun.

Scratch that. He wouldn’t have fun. And as the wedding drew closer, Gwyn panicked. She wanted a laid back vacation and when the words marriage came out of Jonathon’s lips, she’d asked to break up. She’d have to face the music and tell Nesta and Emerie eventually. Just not now.

Not when Emerie was showing off her new relationship with Mor and Nesta was focused on her impending nuptials. Gwyn could spend two weeks with her bare ass in the sand getting drunk in the sun and no one could stop her.

“Don’t ask me about Jonathon,” Gwyn replied easily. Azriel smiled—smirked, really—and she wished he wouldn’t. She’d forgotten all about her high school crush on him until she’d seen him in the airport. Azriel was aging like fine wine. He was absurdly attractive, more masculine than he’d ever been at eighteen. He was all broad muscle and smooth, brown skin set against the most incredible bone structure. And when his hazel eyes fell on her, Gwyn wanted to melt into her chair. 

“C’mon,” he cajoled. “If you can’t tell a total stranger something this personal, who can you tell?”

She started to respond, but the captain’s announcements and the stewardess silenced them both. Even Cassian and Nesta pulled apart long enough to watch the safety procedures. Azriel didn’t say another word to her until they were up in the air and that same stewardess was offering drinks. “Vodka sprite,” Azriel said easily, nodding towards Gwyn. “And jack and coke.”

“Are you ordering for me?” she demanded, wondering what it said about her that he’d guessed right.

“We can swap if you want,” was his easy reply. Gwyn had to look beyond him at Cassian and Nesta, back to kissing again. She didn’t know which was worse. 

Gwyn took her soda and her little mini bottles, shooting one back just as quickly as she could get the plastic red cap off. Azriel watched, mouth agape.

“Am I that bad of company?” he asked her, his tone laced with amusement. 

“Jonathon was an asshole,” she said, dumping the other little bottle into her plastic cup. “He wanted to get married.”

“Oh God. Not married,” Azriel teased. “I can see why that would be horrifying.”

“He was arrogant,” she tried to explain, unsure why it mattered if Azriel knew at all. “He thought he was better than everyone else and he never would have dated me if he thought I was smarter and that bothered me.”

“You need to be smarter than your boyfriend?” Azriel questioned, pushing open his soda with long fingers. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“No,” she said a shade too breathlessly. “But I don’t want someone dating me because they think I’m not as smart.”

“Ah, gotcha. So you dumped him?”

“It’s our secret, Az,” she informed him in her bossiest tone. “If Nesta finds out, she’ll try and set me up with one of her friends when we get back and they’re all lawyers.”

“Another unforgivable crime,” Azriel said with mock graveness. She watched, teeth biting her bottom lip, as he took a drink. She could have been eighteen again, if eighteen year old her had been able to string together six words to say to him. 

“I just want two weeks of uninterrupted fun,” Gwyn said, taking her own drink if only to calm her nerves. The rushing air of the plane was soothing, settling some of her nerves while the alcohol made her warm. 

“No strings attached fun? My specialty,” Azriel replied with an easy smile. God, she bet it was. “I’m single too, you know.”

“So is Feyre,” Gwyn was stupid to reply. Azriel scoffed.

“She’s been fucking Rhys for years.”

Gwyn gaped. “Does Nesta know?”

He shrugged. “I don’t partake in the gossip, I only know what Rhys tells me–”

“That’s the literal definition of gossiping,” she informed him. He shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“It’s engaging in a fact based discussion. I know more about naked Archerons than I ever wanted to.”

She didn’t bother asking if he’d ever gotten with Elain. She was very married, curled against Lucien’s shoulder just two rows back. It didn’t matter. 

“Well, if it helps, Nesta once sent us all a picture of Cassian’s penis so we could see it.”

“God, okay, that’s worse,” Azriel agreed with a strangled laugh. “Never do that to me.”

“How would I—”

He turned in his seat, holding his nearly empty cup. “You want no strings fun, right? And to keep your friends off your back? Hello, my name is Azriel. I’m your man these next two weeks.”
God, she was going to puke. There was no way he was being serious. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she said before throwing back the rest of her drink. 

He shrugged those broad shoulders. “It doesn’t have to be like that. I’m not immune to Nesta’s antics, you know. Her lawyer friends are…”

“Stuck up?” Gwyn guessed. 

Azriel laughed. “Something like that. It could be pretend but if we’re being honest, I’d like it if it wasn’t.”

Oh God, oh God. She licked her lips. She was hallucinating. The plane was spiraling towards the earth and she’d blacked out due to lack of oxygen. He was—

“We could beat Nesta and Cassian to that bathroom,” he added, watching her carefully. Gauging, she realized. 

Gwyn swallowed. She couldn’t believe she was entertaining this. If he’d been anyone else she would have laughed in his face. “There should be rules.”

“Hit me with them,” he said agreeably, his focus wholly on her. 

“Just two weeks. Nothing else,” she breathed, wondering if the sex would live up to her now active imagination. Surely something had to give. He was compensating somewhere, she bet. Small dick, a quick fuck. She’d do this and he’d disappoint her and she’d be able to relax.

“Works for me.”

“We tell no one that this means nothing,” she added. 

“Who would I tell? My friends aren’t exactly lining up to talk to me.”

“If we get caught I’ll blame this on you.”

“Harsh but I’ll take it. C’mon. Come to the bathroom with me.”

“You know all the right things to say,” she replied dryly. 

But she was going to do it, damn her. 

AZRIEL:

Maybe Nesta was right to be suspicious of him. She was still sucking face with Cassian three hours into the flight. The lights were off, shades closed and the stewardesses had retreated. He and Gwyn had been talking and watching a movie, waiting for the right moment. He’d never done this before and his heart was pounding. If they got caught he was sure they’d be banned and how the fuck would he get home, then? By boat? 

He was willing to risk it. Stretching his legs, Azriel slid into the aisle and walked past rows of sleeping people for the bathroom. It wasn’t as small as he’d thought it would be but was hardly big enough to do anything but hold her up against the sink and fuck her stupid. Maybe, he’d be able to get on his knees and eat her out, but that seemed like it was pushing it. 

He kept the door unlocked and when it pulled open, Gwyn slid right in like she was utterly alone.

“Did anyone see you?” he asked breathlessly.

“Nope,” she replied, so deliciously close he could smell the soft, sweet smell of whatever shampoo she wore wafting off her.

“Good,” he whispered, reaching for her face. He knew they had to be somewhat quick and yet he needed to kiss her, to grope just a little. Otherwise she wouldn’t be wet and it wouldn’t be fun for her. Two weeks of easy pussy was the best deal Azriel ever made. 

Gwyn kissed him back, hands at her sids at that first touch. 

Hurry up, motherfucker, his cock screamed at him. Grumbling to himself, Azriel used that moment to reach beneath her cute ass and haul her up against the sink. Her legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing just enough to make his eyes roll in his head. He was semi-hard just at the thought of fucking on the plane but now he was nearly fully erect.

His tongue swept into her mouth as she slid her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the muscle just beneath. Women liked that which was good, because Azriel liked pleasing women. He swallowed the urge to be noisy in favor of palming her breast through her shirt and bra. 

No time, hurry up.

Gwyn seemed to be thinking the same, yanking his shorts off his hips. She broke the kiss to look, those big teal eyes widening at the sight of his thick, large cock. He couldn’t suppress a grin even as he said, “Hips up, baby.”

She did, letting him shimmy her out of her leggings and striped pink underwear. She was nearly bare save for a neatly trimmed strip of copper hair he immediately wanted to put his face in. There was no way he’d fit, not even if he knelt sideways.

“I’m gonna eat that pussy when we land,” he told her, kissing against her jaw while using his thumb to rub against her clit. She’d taken the base of his cock, stroking it in her soft, small hand.

He just barely fit and the sight was doing it for him. 

“All men say that,” she replied, challenge sparking in her eyes. 

“Trust me,” he whispered, digging out the condom he had in his wallet to roll it over his cock. She was slick enough and he hardly had the time to see her drenched. Six hours and they’d be at the resort Vanserra set up. He’d find her room and put that pretty body on his face for hours. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, pushing himself into her. She gasped, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt. “You’re fucking tight.”

She took a breath, licking the side of his neck. Gwyn began nipping little bites before soothing over his skin, the sensation driving him wild. He wanted to fuck this woman with the proper space. There was no time for regret, not when he was seated in her. One palm braced on the sink, Azriel thrust into her tight, wet pussy while his other hand when back to rubbing at her clit. He’d feel her come or he’d get banned from flying ever again.

“That’s it,” he praised when her skin began to flush the prettiest shade of pink. “You fuck my cock so well, baby.”

She curled a hand at the nape of his neck, threading her fingers through his hair to tug. Her breath and the wet slap of their skin was the only sound Azriel could hear as he prayed no one walked by. There would be no denying what was happening in here.

She was panting. “So needy,” he praised, his release pooling in the base of his shaft. “Are you going to come all over my cock, baby? Make a mess of me.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered, arching against him. She tightened and Azriel sped up, thrusting into her roughly, chasing the building pleasure until he was nearly delirious with it. Azriel pressed his mouth against hers, privately impressed he was keeping his rhythm despite all the things he was trying to do with his body. 

Gwyn bit his bottom lip hard, causing him to clench his ass to keep from coming. He was so fucking close, needed to push her over that ledge, too. Gwyn panted, kissing him frantically. He felt her come apart—her clit shuddered against his thumb while her pussy convulsed against him with wave after wave after wave, milking his own release from his aching cock. He jerked into her, pushing further until there was nowhere to go. 

If that's what she felt with a condom on, how would she feel without one? He didn’t think he wanted to know. Still, he kissed her again and again, until his pulsating heart stopped throbbing in his balls and he could pull out of her without wanting to die.

“Good?” he asked her, cupping her face.

“Good,” she agreed. She was quick to pull up her pants and adjust her shirt, look herself over in the mirror before walking right out as if he wasn’t standing right there with a half hard dick wrapped in a filled condom. He admired her confidence. 

Closing the door quickly, Azriel found a little trash can. He wrapped the condom up in a layer of toilet paper, yanked up his own pants, and washed his hands before emerging a respectable amount of time later. Anyone watching them carefully might realize what had happened.

And lucky for them, no one was. When he returned, wobbling against the rocking plane, Gwyn was curled back up, eyes on a new movie starting on the screen in front of her. Azriel grabbed one of the earbuds and jammed it into his own, plopping into his seat with a groan. He’d be asleep in ten minutes if he was lucky.

“Don’t forget,” he murmured, leaning his head close to hers. 

Gwyn smiled.

“I won’t.”