Chapter 14 - You're My First
Chapter 14 – You're My First
-Gwyn-
Best. Kiss. Ever.
Alright, it was her only kiss ever.
But even with no measure of comparison, this moment felt nothing short of perfect. If she had ever dared to dream of a kiss that captured magic, it would pale in comparison to the one she now shared with Azriel.
After he gently touched his lips to different spots on her face and neck, their mouths met again. He parted her mouth with his tongue, angling his head to take the kiss deeper as he held her face in his hands. She relished feeling the ridges and grooves of the scars on his hands. His palms gently ran from her cheeks down her neck, shoulders, and upper arms, before he brought them back to her waist, gripping her in his strong grasp. His lips and hands were gentle, yet possessive and sure.
He drew back, their lips lingering just a whisper apart, as if the very air between them carried the weight of unspoken desires. Their breaths tangled, uneven and shared, like the ebb and flow of a restless tide. His molten gold of his hazel eyes shimmered with the quiet intensity of a wildfire cloaked in twilight, anchoring her in a gaze that felt like the world had dissolved, leaving only the fragile thread that bound them together.
“Are you alright?” Azriel asked her in that deep gravelly voice.
She nodded. “I’m alright,” she breathed. “Azriel, I—” Before she could continue, he groaned and swallowed her whimper as he crashed his mouth back to hers.
“Gwyn,” he rasped between kisses.
“What…what are we doing?” she panted.
“We’re kissing,” he said with a husky whisper, eliciting a giggle from her before his lips returned to that pulsing spot on her neck. He sucked it ever so lightly, drawing a whimper to escape her throat.
“Yes…I…can…see…that…” Her words were broken up, scattered like petals in the wind, as his lips claimed hers in a series of tender, unrelenting kisses. Her palms pressed firmly against the solid plane of his chest, anchoring her as she rose onto her knees to scoot closer to him, yearning to close the fragile distance and meld her form to his. Once she was flush with his torso, she lowered herself back down to his lap, where she felt…
What in the Gods’ names…?
Azriel’s posture stiffened, and he let out a hiss when her core came to rest on the very hard, very large, bulge in his pants.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
Oh Gods…that’s…
She froze, caught in the suffocating grip of indecision, her breath hitching as if the very air around her had thickened. His face was a study in agony—not of pain, but of unrelenting yearning, carved into his features with an almost excruciating intensity. It was the look of a man tormented by the unattainable, his expression raw and desperate, as though the weight of his desire might crush him if left unfulfilled.
“Oh, Gods, Azriel! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Her words were halted when his scarred fingers pressed against her lips as tenderly as the first rays of dawn, yet unyielding as the horizons.
“Gwyn,” he murmured, his voice raw, trembling at the edges. “It’s alright. You’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, I…” His words faltered as his eyes searched hers, a silent plea for understanding lingering in their depths. His gaze dropped to his fingers resting gently against her lips. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I never want to make you uncomfortable.”
Her tension ebbed away then, her shoulders softening as she lifted a hand to cradle his cheek. He drew his fingers back, hesitant, as though afraid the moment might shatter.
“Azriel,” she whispered, her voice steady yet tender, “I’m not uncomfortable.”
His exhale was deep, almost unsteady, as though her words had lifted a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying.
“But,” she added, her voice turning quieter, her confidence giving way to a soft vulnerability, “I just… I can’t go any farther than this. Not yet.”
His gaze was tender, the green in his hazel eyes glowing like sunlight filtering through emerald leaves. His large, calloused hands cradled her face with a reverence that belied their roughness, grounding her in his touch. He leaned in, pressing his forehead gently against hers, their breaths mingling in the stillness. “That’s perfectly fine, Gwyn,” he murmured, his voice a soft promise. “If I could only kiss you for the rest of my life, I would be content—completely and utterly fulfilled.”
She couldn’t contain the blushing smile that she felt appear on her face. “Really?”
Still cradling her face, he returned her smile. “Abso-fucking-lutely, Berdara.”
-Azriel-
He meant every fucking word. If all she ever offered him were the soft, silken petals of her lips for the next five centuries, he would embrace eternity with a heart full of quiet joy, content to let the world fade as long as her kiss remained his anchor.
He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face toward his as he claimed her lips once more. “Best Godsdamn kiss of my life,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice rough with conviction.
Her laughter, that melodic sound he adored, spilled out as she shook her head, disbelief dancing in her eyes.
“I mean it, Berdara,” he said, his smile brushing against her cheek before his lips followed, pressing a tender kiss there. “If I were to die tomorrow, I’d go to the Gods with no regrets, knowing I’d had the most perfect kiss this world could offer.”
Her eyes softened, a tender warmth flickering in their depths. “You’re my best kiss too, Azriel,” she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of sincerity. Her gaze dropped to her hands, which fisted the front of his shirt, fingers twisting the material as though trying to weave courage from motion. “But,” she added, her tone quieter now, “I feel I should admit…you’re my only kiss.”
He pulled away, his movement abrupt, as though her words had struck him like a lightning bolt, leaving him unsteady and grasping for clarity in the storm of his own disbelief. “What?” he breathed, disbelief etched into that one syllable.
“You… you’re my first kiss, Azriel,” she admitted, her voice trembling under the weight of her embarrassment. Her gaze fell, unable to meet his.
“You can’t be serious,” he said, his tone caught between astonishment and something softer, something almost reverent.
“I am,” she whispered, her words barely audible.
He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes searching hers as though trying to piece together a puzzle that defied logic. “Alright, so…I have to ask—how the fuck is that even possible?”
She rolled her eyes, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “I’m only twenty-eight, Azriel. I grew up in a temple surrounded by priestesses and then upgraded to—wait for it—a library full of priestesses. Let’s just say, the kissing opportunities weren’t exactly knocking down my door.”
He smiled at that sass she sometimes threw around. He’d almost forgotten how young she was compared to him.
“So, I’m sorry if that makes you uneasy, but—”
His hands framed her face with a fervent intensity, pulling her into a kiss that was both fierce and unyielding. A low groan escaped him, raw and unrestrained, as her tongue met his, igniting a fire that seemed to consume the very air between them. Gods, he was going to need to stroke his cock at least three times before he’d be able to sleep tonight.
“Gwyn,” he whispered, his voice low and trembling with emotion as he broke the kiss, the sound carrying the weight of unspoken promises. His gaze locked onto hers, searching her eyes with a fierce intensity, as though trying to imprint every shade and flicker of her into his memory.
“Uneasy?” His voice was hoarse, trembling with quiet desperation. “No,” he murmured, his tone laden with yearning. “To be your first and only kiss… it fills me with a joy so deep it aches. Gwyn, I would endure a hundred lifetimes of longing just to hold this moment, just to know I’m the one that was the first to taste those soft lips.”
Her breath caught, and those striking teal eyes sparkled with the weight of unshed tears, like sunlight glinting off the edges of a storm. But then she tilted her head, a wry smile curving her lips. “Tell me, how is it that you’re waxing poetic like some romantic out of one of my novels, yet when you first saw me today, the best you could manage was telling me I looked ‘nice,’ Shadowsinger?”
This was the Gwyn he adored—a tender, luminous soul whose gentle kindness was perfectly balanced by a vivacious, irrepressible spark and a razor-sharp wit.
He couldn’t contain his smile. “Like I said, my shadows got a little too thrilled when I saw you—they ended up scrambling my thoughts entirely.”
She returned his smile, hers bashful, and that beautiful pink bloomed over her cheekbones. “So…what is this? Are we…” She swallowed audibly. “Does this mean we are not friends anymore?”
“I don’t want to just be friends, Gwyn. Like I said, you mean so much more to me.” He kept his emotions in check, holding back the full weight of what he felt. It was too soon—too fragile, this thing they were stepping into. “I mean, we’re still friends, of course, but… it’s more than that now. It’s been more than that for a while, hasn’t it?”
She held his gaze, a soft understanding blooming in her expression. “I think it has.” Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed the mix of vulnerability and hope she felt. Slowly, her gaze dipped to his lips, and he exhaled, the tension melting from his shoulders as she leaned in. When her lips met his, the world quieted, and in that single moment, her unspoken confession told him everything he needed to know—she felt about him the same way he felt about her.
He was suddenly aware that his cock was still pressed against that sweet spot between between her thighs. As much as he wanted her to grind himself against her clit until she came until he knew that would not be happening tonight.
“Uh, Gwyn?”
“Yes, Azriel?” Those teal pools stared back at him.
“I, uh, really like how we are sitting right now, but…”
Understanding dawned once she realized where her core was positioned, her beautiful eyes going wide with embarrassment. “Oh, my Gods!” she cried before she climbed off his lap and scrambled to sit next to him. He instantly missed her body on his. “Are you alright, Azriel?”
“I will be,” he grunted, angling away from her in an attempt to discretely adjust himself. “Just need a few minutes.”
“Want to do some mindstilling with me?” she asked, a tease in her voice.
He chuckled. “No, that’s alright. I’ll leave that to you, Valkyrie.” He tucked a strand of her soft hair behind the delicate arch of her ear. She rested one freckled hand on his chest as he tangled his fingers in her messy bun. He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and brought her lips to his again.
When she pulled back, her oceanic eyes appraised him carefully. “Is this…is this going to be weird? At training?”
He pondered that for a minute before he ran the pad of his thumb along her kiss-swollen bottom lip. “Honestly, Gwyn, I don’t know.” He smiled when another thought occurred to him. “I would be more concerned about how weird it might be around our friends.”
Her eyes went comically wide. “Oh, Gods!” she cried, causing a laugh to slip from his mouth. “Ugh, they’re going to be unbearable.”
“Listen,” he said, bringing his hand up to cup her cheek once more. “We don’t have to tell anyone anything that we don’t want to.”
She exhaled softly, a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet between them. His scarred thumb brushed over her bottom lip once more, reverent and unhurried, as if committing its softness to memory. She leaned into him, and he responded instinctively, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her close. Her cheek found its place in the hollow between his shoulder and chest, a space that seemed made just for her. Her arm slipped around his waist, and he felt the tension melt from her as she settled into his embrace. His other hand moved to her hair, fingers threading gently through the strands that had fallen loose from her bun in a soothing rhythm.
“How are you feeling after today?” he murmured, his voice low and tender.
He felt her smile against him, a quiet warmth spreading through him at the gesture. “Much better,” she replied, her words soft but certain, carrying the weight of her trust in him.
“Good,” he murmured before he pressed his lips against the crown of her forehead.
She curled her legs beneath her, settling into the warmth of his body with a quiet sigh of contentment. Minutes passed, and he noticed her breathing shift—each inhale and exhale growing softer, slower, until sleep gently claimed her. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he realized she had chosen him, unwittingly or not, as her pillow for the night.
Which was perfectly fine with him.