Archive of Our Own

Your eyes fluttered open, consciousness slowly making home again in your hazy mind. Blinking the fuzziness away, it was hard for your eyes to adjust to how dim it was in—wherever it was you were. When you tried to move, you found that your wrists and ankles were bound, and you weren't even standing, or sitting down. You were simply suspended about two feet above the ground, with your ankles being held apart by a sort of invisible force, as were your wrists, stretched out on either side of your head so that your elbows were forced straight. There was a dull throbbing in your head as your vision slowly adapted to the darkness of the room. 

The strangest part? You couldn’t recall how you ended up here. Swallowing to soothe your dry, scratchy throat, you called out weakly, "Hello?" 

There was a soft hum of acknowledgement, nothing more than an exhale, coming from some part of the windowless room that you couldn't make out. The sound was unnerving, making you wonder if it was some sort of creature.

With that being your main worry, you tried to work free of the binds around your wrists and ankles. They didn't bite into your skin like how shackles would, instead, they were...soft? They weren't soft, exactly, but they weren't biting into your skin like normal shackles would, which you silently thanked the Mother for. At least your captor was being nice, right? 

But your gratefulness didn't last, now when you found out they were supernatural binds. Which meant that you wouldn't be able to escape from them unless you somehow killed the person who was sourcing the magic, and did that with your limbs bound. Impossible. 

The restraints were cold, but unlike metal and more like the chill of an autumn breeze. The temperature of the windowless room was just slightly higher than the binds, your thin gown doing nothing to shield you from your surroundings. 

The room smelled slightly musky too, but not in an entirely unpleasant way, but in a way that did add to the neglected atmosphere in the room. 

Giving up on trying to escape—there was no possible way you could right now—you decided to try and recollect your scattered memories. Except that there was absolutely nothing to recall. You'd just been sleeping and woke up here. No memory of being taken or transported. Perhaps it was another one of your brothers' silly pranks.

But they didn't have this sort of magic. And they wouldn't leave you bound and alone. So, no, it couldn't be them. 

Huffing, you tried to take inventory of wherever it was you were. Three walls, none with windows, and no bars or doors you could catch a glimpse of. Ahead of you, you couldn’t see where the next wall was. Your arms were getting tired of being above your head to either side of you, and when you relaxed them fully, your phantom binds caught the weight and kept them up. 

Suddenly, there was a low chuckle that made something stir low in your belly. Mocking and belittling, like you were the little insect caught in a spider's web. Which was, quite literally, the case. 

You felt your cheeks flush. You were being used for someone's entertainment, you were sure of it. 

“Show yourself,” you ordered, trying your best to straighten even in your situation. As the princess of Autumn, you know how to carry yourself, after so many court sessions with your father and elder brothers.

“You’re not in any position to be making demands.” The voice was cloyingly rich and smooth, sounding less like a captor and more like a male who would spend his nights murmuring filthy things in your ear. 

"I am the daughter of the High Lord of the Autumn Court," you began slowly, about to continue only to be cut off by the voice replying in a condescending manner. 

"And what can you do with that title here? It won't be getting you very far," it drawled.

"My brothers are, in fact, coming to retreive me now." 

"According to who?"

You gritted your teeth. "I know they are." 

Another hum, in a tone that implied that the person didn't agree with you but decided to humor you anyway. 

When you tried to kindle the fire usually ever-present at your fingertips, it seemed the binds around you had snuffed your ability out, making the attempt pointless. The other person—well, you assumed it was a person—in the room only chuckled once more at your feeble attempt. 

"What did you do?" You cried out, trying again to no avail. 

"Well, we can't have you escaping, now, can we?" 

"Who's 'we'?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Why am I here?" 

"So that things go smoothly." His tone was indifferent. 

Out of nowhere came a sharp ringing noise, making you flinch when something cold brushed the shell of your ear, barely for a splinter of a second. The sound of the object whizzing past you had barely registered in your mind before it hit the wall behind you and clattered to the ground. 

"What was that?" you asked shakily, trying to turn to see where the item had landed. 

From the shadowy side of the room, wisps of smoke crawled across the floor, crawling on the floor around you. When they pulled back, they held up the item they retrieved: a dagger. 

You shrieked.

"What was that for?" the male asked with an amused huff. 

Fear still lining the edges of your words, you countered, "What was that for?" 

"For fun. Rhys said I could do anything I wanted with you, as long as you made it out alive. And I've been bored recently..." he trailed off, possibly imagining what he could do with you. 

You, on the other hand, had panic flare bright in your chest. But you quickly suppressed it—now was not the time to let fear or irrationality cloud your mind. 

Rhys? You wondered silently. It must've been the one this person was reporting to, or...

Rhys. Rhysand. The High Lord of Night.

Oh. 

"Am I in the Night Court?" You tried the question, unsure if you would receive a reply. 

"Wouldn't you like to know." 

"I would, actually."

No response.

"You know, you're a coward for hiding," you scoffed, faking confidence. "Maybe it's because if I knew how you looked, it'd be easier to overpower you because of how pathetic you really are." 

"I'm anything but."

"Prove it."

The constrictions around your wrists tightened uncomfortably, squeezing before it loosened again.

"Hardly proves anything," you said through gritted teeth. The pressure was enough to leave twin bruises on your skin.

"No, I suppose it doesn't," the voice mused. "Not the matter. What shall I do with you? We have as much time as it takes for your father to agree to our terms." 

"You mean, as much time as it takes for my brothers to get here.”

“No. They wouldn’t find you.”

Gradually, the shadows waned to reveal a figure. Only once the majority of the shadows had been cleared did the room seem to get slightly brighter, allowing you to make out stone walls, and realize that your binds were shadows. Which meant the smoke that collected the dagger just now wasn't smoke, but shadows as well. 

And the figure was the one controlling the shadows. 

It was the Night Court's infamous Shadowsinger. 

"Oh, shit," you found yourself saying before you could stop yourself. 

It was still too dim to see his face, but you could see a muted blue glow near his hands and on the center of his chest. You didn't stop to wonder what they were, because your mind was focused on one thing and one thing only—you had to get out. 

Because if the stories were true, that meant you weren’t only in danger. You were under his control, at his mercy; your life was in his bloodstained hands. 

The remaining shadows parted to reveal Azriel lounging in the chair you would’ve been tied to if you weren’t being bound in the way that you were, legs spread and elbows resting on the arms of the wooden chair.

A surprised gasp escaped your lips. He was stunning, but not in the usual way a fae male was beautiful. He was more…sinister. An intense sort of beauty, sharpened by the harsh lines of his face and haunted eyes, framed by shadows. 

Oh, gods. The absolute last thing you had to be doing right now was thinking about how attractive your abductor was. 

And now that you could see him fully, you could also see the way he raked his gaze over you in a way that made you shiver. There was a lethal sort of glint in his eye that twinkled when they landed on certain parts of your body. His arousal was nothing hidden, not when he was blatantly palming himself over his trousers at the sight of you in nothing but a lacy black nightgown, body on display as his shadows held you up. 

"Stop that," you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut and angling your head away in disgust. 

His smirk only widened. You'd inadvertently exposed the slender lines of your neck to him, only fueling the explicit images in his mind. 

"You know,” his liquid-gold voice began, “You’re lucky you’re a pretty thing. If you weren’t, I’d have used a blade to cut you open just to feel something. But you’re prettier than the girls at the pleasure hall—probably tighter, too—so I’ll use your holes instead. Besides, don’t you think it’ll be so much more fun to return you back to your father after I’ve tainted you?” 

You squirmed in place, biting out, “You’re sick.”

“I’m aware.” 

The shadows pooled beneath your hovering toes began to slink up your calves, and you suppressed a shiver at the chill. 

Shakily, you said, “Stop it.” 

“Stop what? I’m hardly doing anything.”

At his words, his shadows danced around your upper thighs tauntingly. Feather-light and ticklish, as if they wouldn’t do you any harm. Which you knew they would, at the Shadowsinger’s command. 

You tried to close your legs, to stop his shadows from brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but the shadows wound around your ankles kept your legs slightly open. 

"You look so frightened," murmured Azriel. His shadows rubbed up against your soft thighs, as if feeling you on his behalf. “Pretty.”

You didn't reply, your throat too tight. 

Eventually, his shadows inched just a tad higher up, hovering beneath the lacy hem of your nightgown, waiting for his command. You could nearly feel the way his shadows pulsed with life, with magic. 

Slowly, he rose, his approach feeling predatory. The remaining shadows trailed behind him, following his footsteps like loyal pets. Your body instinctively shrank back, but you could barely move. 

The temperature of your surroundings seemed to drop the nearer he got. Perhaps it was your fear heightening, or the icy shadows growing thicker around you. 

Even though you were suspended above the ground, he was nearly eye-level with you—only reminding you how much bigger he was than you, and eliminating all ideas of being able to run away. 

At his hip, you could see the way the jewel in his dagger sparkled in the dim lighting. The blue stone set in the hilt matched the color of the siphons on his wrists. He noticed the way your gaze caught on the weapon, and a corner of his mouth nicked up. 

“Stop,” you said before he could get any ideas, but you knew you were too late. 

“Why should I?” 

With that, his shadows raced up your skirt eagerly. He paid no mind as you sobbed out, jerking against the restraints as cold darkness brushed against you. His shadows were thorough in their actions, cocooning you to feel your skin. It would’ve been comforting if it wasn’t so invasive. It was like they were greedy, wanting to touch as much of you as they could, slithering across your torso and upper thighs. The more daring ones slid across the curves of your breasts and in between your legs. 

"Stop," you cried out again, your teeth sinking into your chapped lower lip. 

"But we're having so much fun," he argued, watching with malice in his amber eyes. 

With a flick of his wrist, shadows gathered in the space between your thighs, and sharp, ghostly fingers broke the thin straps of your nightgown. They wasted no time in pushing your dress down, revealing the swell of your chest and nipples peaked from the chill of the cell. 

“No-” you protested as you tried to curl into yourself. “Stop, please!”

You felt your cheeks get wet, as did the cotton of your panties as the shadows rubbed against it. No matter how hard you squirmed, the shadows didn’t loosen their hold on you. Tendrils of darkness alternated between tugging at the buds of your breasts and swirling around them. Silent tears spilt down your cheeks at the violation, leaving trails that shined on your cheeks. 

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned, His shadows traveled to other parts of your body when he reached out to palm your breast, enjoying the way you fit in his hand and giving the flesh a harsh squeeze. “So pretty like this.”

Your back arched in an attempt to get away from him, but the action only made Azriel chuckle when you pushed your chest out further. A whimper left your parted lips when he tugged on your taut nipple to leave it stinging, and tears trickled from the corners of your eyes when you squeezed them shut. 

“I can smell your arousal, gorgeous. Does this make you wet?” He slapped your tits, eyes glued to the way it bounced. “Hm? Answer me.” 

You shook your head. “No, you’re sick-” 

His scarred fingers swiped the bottom of your chin where tears collected, and he brought them to his mouth. Sucked it off his fingers like a delicacy. “I wonder what we could do to make you cry harder?”

The sweet, heady scent of your arousal permeated the damp smell of the room. A curl of shadow swirled over your clothed clit slowly, making you slightly dizzy and left reeling. You didn’t want this, but he was manipulating your body into wanting it when your mind didn’t. 

Azriel took pleasure in grabbing your nightgown, bunched at your ribs, and easily ripping it down the center despite your protests. Goosebumps raised on your skin as he discarded the fabric. 

A shadow pulled at the bow on your panties, snapping it against your abdomen lightly. Azriel’s gaze was appraising as he raked it over you, making you squirm uncomfortably. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can,” came his simple response. Then his eyes darkened. “I have a fun idea.” 

“No, no, please-” 

“You haven’t even heard it yet, darling.” 

You scrunched your eyes shut so as to not see his dangerously beautiful face, causing more tears to leak from the well behind your lids. “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t recall giving you a choice.” 

A shadow pressed down on your core, making your hips buck involuntary and pulling a whine from your lips. The shadows at your hips turned sharp again, slicing through the soft material of your panties and letting them fall unceremoniously to the stone beneath you, but not before a single shadow curled around the material and swiftly moved to tuck it into Azriel’s pocket. A sob broke free, your body shaking as Azriel took his time to appreciate the view.

Autumn’s daughter, bare and bound at his mercy, cheeks and cunt wet. Could there be anything more sightly?

Azriel arched a brow. “Should I tell you what I’m about to do? Or-”

“N- no.”

“I haven't finished speaking, but if you’ve made your decision, so be it.” 

You sobbed as his hand slid along your drenched folds, rubbing idly until you were soaking his hand. “You’re so fucking wet, it’s embarrassing. This turns you on, huh?” You jolted when he slapped his fingers down on your clit. “Fucking filthy, aren’t you?”

Your body mourned the loss of his touch when he pulled his hand back, but your attention was quickly drawn to the dagger sheathed at his hip when his gleaming, sticky fingers wrapped around the hilt and pulled it out. He noticed your panicked expression, his grin only widening. The blade caught the faelights uncovered by shadows and lining the walls, and you released a shaky breath. 

Shadows were quick to wrap around the blade of the knife when Azriel held it out, until the reflective part was wrapped in swirling shadows and the hilt was facing upwards. You flinched when it was pointed at you, shaking your head quickly. 

Azriel reminded you, “Like I said. You have no say here.” 

You shuddered when the cold pommel was dragged from your navel to your clit. At your whine, he pushed two fingers past your lips, and you bit down defiantly. He hissed but didn’t withdraw. You could taste your own slickness off him, silently cursing your body for reacting in such a way. Forced to suck on his fingers, you could feel spit dripping from your lower lip. 

His shadows began to use the end of his dagger to circle your clit, and your noise of protest was muffled by his fingers. "Why'd you stop crying? We can't have that happening now, can we?" 

You were going to wring your neck with how often, how harshly you were shaking it, legs trembling as they were kept held open. The hilt of the dagger was brought further down until it reached the wetness that clung to you, rubbing up against your entrance slowly. 

Clearly, Azriel had achieved what he wanted when another wet path snaked its way down your flushed cheeks. You tried to clench your thighs to conceal yourself, but the shadows around your ankles didn’t shift. The ones holding the blade of the dagger did, however, pressing the pommel into you and making you mewl. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, wiping your spit on your breasts. 

“Stop,” you gasped, feeling the cold metal press up against your soft inner walls. The grip of the dagger wasn’t thick—it was relatively slim, but the feeling was intrusive no less. Your walls clenched as it slid in further, down to the guard of the knife. Azriel watched as his dagger slid into you easily, his own arousal growing. 

“No-” you said again, but your voice came out breathy in a way that you disliked. 

“Do you know,” Azriel paused, “how many lives have been taken by that blade? You could be the Truth Teller’s next victim.”

Truth Teller. The name registered in your mind, and you knew how the weapon was something near-sacred. A worshiped, prized weapon of the Spymaster’s. It withdrew slowly, revealing the hilt gleaming with your slick, which Azriel’s darkened eyes drank in greedily before it pushed into you again, drawing another soft sob.

“Do you think I could make you come with it? What a feat that would be. I’d be sure to tell your family of it.” 

The shadows increased the pace of the hilt driving into you, angling to make the feeling more pleasant, much to your chagrin. You whimpered, wrists straining against the shadowy cuffs that held your arms up. Your hips jerked when the shadows pressed against your clit, stimulation to the bud of nerves from both the inside and outside. 

Arrogance and amusement shined in Azriel’s gaze as he did nothing but watch. Your hips were beginning to grind down on the hilt of the weapon and the shadows, but as much as you didn’t want it to happen, pleasing pressure began to build up in your lower stomach and between your legs. Quiet huffs left your parted lips as your head fell forward, something bitter tugging at your consciousness at the sight of the Shadowsinger’s magic and item bringing you to climax. But at the same time it was a curious turn on, because of how explicit, how forbidden it was. 

“Stop, I…” your head tipped back, and shadows raced up to twirl around the expanse of exposed skin at your throat. The wonderful friction of the carvings and stones set into the grip of Truth Teller rubbed against your slippery walls, and the pommel met the spot inside of you that made your head spin. 

“Are you sure you want me to stop?” Azriel’s voice was hardly enough to draw you out of the headspace he’d created. 

“No, no-” You weren’t sure what you were saying no to anymore, but you did know that you needed the release dangling right in front of you. 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he grumbles, slapping your tits again before pinching down on your nipples. Instead of inflicting the pain he wished to, the contact brought you over the edge instead, your gasps and moans echoing around the cell as pleasure blinded you for a handful of counts. Suddenly, you were thankful for the binds that held you up, or your knees would’ve given out and landed you on the cold floor. 

He didn’t wait for your high to fade before his shadows were pulling away, and before you could even register what was going on, the now-warm metal of his dagger slipping past your lips. 

“Clean it,” he ordered. It was thrilling, having the knife so close to you. Your tongue dragged from the cobalt jewel inset in the hilt, until the pommel when it was pulled past your lips and returned to the sheath at Azriel’s hip. You could still feel your release slowly sliding down your soft inner thighs. 

All of a sudden, your restraints dissipated, dropping you onto your knees with a yelp. You winced as your knees scraped against the floor, but at least it gave you a moment to let your achy muscles relax. The floor didn’t seem dirty, surprisingly. 

Surprisingly, escape wasn’t your priority. Not like you could’ve, not when Azriel’s large hand threaded itself in your hair and you found yourself eye-level with the tent in his leather trousers. Your eyes widened as you peered up at him, only to be met with a cynical smirk.

“I’m going to fuck your throat now, and you’re going to take it,” he said coolly as his other hand undid the laces of his pants. He readjusting his grip on your hair, wrapping the fiery strands around his fist and tugging to make sure it was tight. 

Once again, the shadows had solidified around you, ensuring that you couldn’t move away. Kneeling, you were rooted to the ground. 

You were given no time at all to even register Azriel’s size before he was slapping you across the face, sliding himself past your lips when you gasped. Not only lengthy, he was wide, too, making it nearly impossible to fit the entirety of him in your mouth. But he made sure you took him anyway, tugging your head down until you were sputtering around his girth and your nose was pressed against his pelvis. He tasted musky and slightly salty, the weight heavy and unfamiliar on your wet tongue. 

Azriel could feel the way your throat convulsed around his length, which further added to his sick enjoyment. Holding you roughly by the hair, he continued to jerk your head back and forth, hitting the back of your throat each time and making sure that you had no time to breathe between drags. Your eyes were rimming red, tears pooling with each choke. And yet, more wetness gathered at your heat, dripping onto the floor beneath you. 

You placed your hands on his thighs where his trousers were pooled, trying to pull away—but his shadows caught you by the wrists immediately and brought your hands behind your back, cuffing them. And when you tried to use your body to pull away again, Azriel held your head down at his base until you were sobbing around him. 

“Stupid little bitch,” he muttered with another slap to your cheek. You could feel tears wetting your cheeks again as you drooled around his cock. Eventually, Azriel quit pulling your hair, instead slapping his cock on your cheek while you gasped for air. Just when you thought he was finally about to stop, he plunged himself back into your mouth and started fucking your face. Hard. 

“Fuck, you’ve got a perfect little mouth,” he groaned. Tears and drool dripped from your cheeks and chin onto your breasts, making you into the ideal wanton view. As if reading your mind, Azriel said, “Imagine what your father would say if he saw you like this. With my cock down your perfect little throat, fucking your mouth like a toy. And you’re letting me do it, you’re fucking pathetic.” 

He was right, though—you were powerful enough to have not let this happen, yet it was happening anyway. And what more, it was turning you on. Pathetic was certainly the right word. 

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth. Maybe I should keep you. You like choking on my cock, slut?”

It wasn’t as if you could reply, not with the way he was thrusting into your mouth so roughly. It was suffocating, the way he filled your mouth completely. Tears blurred your vision until you could barely see, and the only thing you could feel was his tip hitting the back of your throat and the throbbing of your clit. The sound of your gags and cries bounced off the walls mockingly. 

“Look at me. Wanna see you cry.”

You raised your lashes, looking up at him with teary eyes that had him repeating a string of profanities. 

“Fucking hell,” Azriel grumbled, spilling his release into your mouth in thick ropes. “Swallow.” Then he pulled out, and a string of spit and cum connected your swollen lips to his tip, then broke as it dropped onto your lap. Azriel worked his fist around his shaft until he spurted white onto your collarbones. “Show me.”

Mortified by your own actions, you opened your mouth, tongue prodding at your lower lip as you showed him you’d swallowed. He tasted nice—not that you’d admit that to him, or even yourself. 

His shadows around you eased right before he yanked you up by the hair and dragged you to the chair he was previously sitting in. Your thighs were wet as he sat and tugged you onto him, until you were straddling his lap, wetness smearing against his trousers. You wiped the back of your hands along your cheeks, clearing off the tear marks on your face. From there, you could see the way the fabric of your panties stuck out from his pocket like a prize he was proud of winning. 

“You’re going to fuck your pretty pussy onto me now, yeah? And then you’re going to thank me when you come on my cock,” he taunted, his hands rubbing his release from your clavicle into the soft flesh of your chest. 

His tip rested on your lower abdomen, rigid and red and wet and throbbing. He was so huge that you doubted you could take all of him. Reality seemed to hit you like a punch to the gut. He’d violated you without your permission. You should’ve been out of here by now, not letting him use you like this. 

You flinched when he rubbed his fingers through your folds, the slick sound meeting his ears. “Stop,” you snapped, trying to shift away, but his hand and shadows clamped around your hips.

“But you’re enjoying yourself.” He tapped the head of his cock against your slick entrance, and your traitorous inner walls fluttered. “Aren’t you?”

“No-” 

“You don’t want to sit on my cock? That’s really too bad, because soon I’m going to have you riding me like a cheap whore. Not cheap pussy, though.” He slid the head of his girth into your entrance, and your nails dug into the material of his shirt at his shoulders. It’d been so long since you’d slept with someone, and had never had someone close to his size inside of you. 

“You can’t- make me…” His shadows held you in place when you attempted to shift your hips to stop him. 

Just then, he pulled the Truth Teller from the sheath at his hip and held it to the damp skin of your neck. Your pulse spiked, eyes widening in fear as tears began to well in your eyes again. 

“Ride my cock,” he slapped your behind, “or I’ll take my time to slit your pretty throat.” 

Your thighs shook as you sank down onto him slowly, squeezing your eyes shut and gasping out in pain at the stretch. When you paused, the blade pressed into your skin, not hard enough to draw blood but to remind you of the threat he held over your head. You sank further until your bare ass was seated on the material of his shoved-down pants, teeth clamping down on your lower lip to stop yourself from crying out. 

Azriel’s shadows secured you as he pressed his left hand down on your lower belly, making you whimper. “You feel that?” 

You nodded, dragging your hips back up when the knife pressed harder again. “F- fuck you.” 

“You’re doing that right now,” he drawled, leaning back in the seat and easing the pressure on your neck. You could feel the way he was buried so deep inside you when you moved back down again, the biting sting of his width stretching your walls. 

“Shit, you’re so tight. Squeezing me so fucking good. So wet, too. This gets you off, huh?” his fingers pressed into your hips, guiding your movements to pick the pace up. Your movements were careful, though, making sure not to cut yourself on the razor-sharp dagger held to your throat as your breath caught. 

“I hate you.” The words turned from an offense in your mind into a needy whine when it fell past your lips. 

“I know, darling. Yet you’re strangling my cock with that sweet little cunt of yours, godsdamn.” He let his hand travel from your hip to your breast, groping roughly. 

Eventually the pain faded, your movements becoming smoother. Azriel’s gaze dropped to where you two were connected, watching with rapt attention as his shaft gleamed with your slick when you moved up, and as your pussy swallowed his cock and you pressed flush against him when you moved down. Your heavy breaths timed with the rise and fall of your chest, muscles aching as you continued to swirl your hips over him. 

You slowed, tired, and he made good on his threat. You felt the bite of cold metal into the skin of your neck, making you gasp and tense. 

“Did I say you could slow down?”

Shaking your head, you returned to your earlier movements, but shakier. It satisfied him, though. The way he rubbed against your walls, you could feel the entirety of him inside you, and it was making you near dizzy with arousal. When you glanced down to look, the flat of the knife pressed against the bottom of your chin to raise your head. 

“Look at me.” 

Your eyes were still slightly wet when you locked eyes with Azriel. He pinched your nipples, and in retaliation, you dug your nails further into his shoulders. He was still clothed, but you could feel the tense muscle under your hands. 

The change was unexpected when your own arousal drove you giddy, and you suddenly flipped from riding him under his command to riding him for your own pleasure. It was addictive, the way he pressed so deep inside of you, the way you were stretched out around him. 

Against your better mind, you came, moaning when your body locked tight and your high washed over you. Azriel hissed when you gripped him tightly, jaw twitching. The dagger was returned to his side by his shadows. 

He frowned, “Cumming again? You’re fucking pathetic. Are you enjoying this? Because you shouldn’t be, you’re here to get me off, not the other way around.”

Azriel effortlessly picked you up, your walls clenching around nothing as he pulled out, spun you around, and grabbed you by the hips before sheathing himself back into you. Still coming down from your previous climax, you gasped, body leaning forward as he tugged your hips back to meet his. 

Your forearms found the rough wall, leaning against it as he pounded into you from behind. Your legs kicked up in overstimulation when he kept going, pushing you past your orgasm, and forcing himself into you when you clenched your walls. 

“Stop- no, I can’t- oh-” You reached behind to grab his hip to slow him down, but he didn’t. If anything, he went harder, and you cried out. “Too much!” 

“Not my problem.” His hand was brought down on your ass with a sharp sound before it returned to the noise of skin slapping resounding in the cell. 

You came again, far too quickly, but Azriel didn’t stop, continuing to push himself into you. Little did you know your desperate pleas were what he wanted to hear; he indulged your struggle. 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, trying to squirm out of his grip. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, stop-” 

He continued to use you to get off, dragging your cunt back and forth on his shaft. Broken whines fell from your lips, head hung forward as he shoved into you with each thrust. Heat built in your lower region again, and you found yourself pushing back onto him to reach that sensation again. 

“Going dumb on my cock like the pretty little slut you are. Does it feel good?” 

It was a blatant lie, the way you shook your head. But you didn’t want to admit it to him. For that, you received a smack to your clit that had you flinching. 

Azriel leaned down to speak into your ear without slowing his pace. “You’re a little fucking liar. You’ve come on my cock twice, pretty. When you cum on my cock again, you’re going to thank me this time, understood?” 

He took your little whimper as an answer, standing back again to snap his hips into yours. His thrusts got more frenzied, and from behind, he could hit that perfect spongy spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Heat flared in your core. 

It was filthily wet, you could feel it with each thrust of Azriel’s hips, the way he was sliding so smoothly in and out of you, the way wetness snaked down your inner thighs, how wet it sounded. You were a mess. 

You went completely silent as you came for the fourth time, stilling as your orgasm hit you and your vision went dark. Azriel also stilled inside of you with how tight you were around him, and you could feel the way his cock twitched while his cum painted your insides. You were far too blissed out to argue, but surely you would later. Now, you could only appreciate the warmth of his release, and the buzz lingering in your veins. 

When Azriel pulled out of you, he stuffed his fingers into your cunt and pushed all his cum back in until he was satisfied, then wiped his fingers on your hip. With how weak your legs were, his shadows had to hold you upright. 

He pulled his trousers back up, glaring at you once again as he made his way to the door of the cell. “Rhys is returning soon. I’ll find you some clothes. Try not to look so fucked out.”

The shadows wrapped around you once more as the sound of the bars swinging shut echoed.