[BL] I Didn't Sign Up For This-Chapter 82: In Which We Find Temporary Shelter

The room was small and sparse, nothing like the penthouse or even the mountain sanctuary, just basic furniture and walls that had seen better decades.

Henrik had brought us here without explanation, some old warden archive tucked into a forgotten corner of the city, abandoned enough that no one would think to look but maintained enough to be habitable.

Mara and Henrik had disappeared into separate quarters almost immediately, reading the room with the efficiency of people who knew when to make themselves scarce.

Which left us alone.

Finally, completely alone, for the first time since before limbo.

The door closed behind us and Azryth was on me before the lock clicked.

His mouth found mine with the same desperate intensity as in the warehouse, but this time there was no Mara to interrupt, no Henrik to witness, just us and a locked door and hours until dawn.

Last time I’d had to push him, had to climb into his lap and demand he stop holding back.

This time he didn’t wait, didn’t hesitate, just pulled me against him like I was the only thing keeping him grounded.

His hands worked at my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders with barely controlled urgency, then moved to my shirt, yanking it over my head when buttons took too long. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

The moment his hands touched bare skin, the binding flared hot and bright between us, and I gasped at the intensity of feeling his need, his relief, his overwhelming gratitude that I was here and real and his.

"Azryth," I started.

He kissed me again instead of answering, deeper this time, swallowing whatever I’d been about to say.

I pulled at his shirt and he broke away just long enough to strip it off, and then we were skin to skin, his hands mapping my ribs, my chest, my back, like he was trying to memorize every inch by touch.

We stumbled backward together until my legs hit the bed, but when I started to turn he stopped me.

His hand pressed gently between my shoulder blades, bending me forward over the mattress, and I braced myself on my hands, feeling him behind me, his body heat scorching my back.

"Okay?" he asked quietly, his hands already removing my pants.

"Yes." More than okay, I needed this, needed him, needed to feel connected after everything we’d survived.

He pushed my pants and underwear down in one motion and I stepped out of them, naked and bent over the bed while he was still partially clothed behind me.

His hands ran up the backs of my thighs, over my ass, exploring with reverent attention, and I felt his breath ghost over my skin before his mouth followed the path his hands had traced.

He kissed up my spine slowly, his lips pressing against each vertebra, and when he reached my shoulders his teeth scraped gently against the skin there.

I shuddered, my fingers gripping the sheets, and through the binding I felt his satisfaction at my reaction, felt how much he needed this, needed to touch and taste and claim.

His hands came around to my chest, finding my nipples and rolling them between his fingers, and I gasped at the sharp pleasure.

He pinched gently and I arched back against him with a broken sound, already half-gone and he’d barely touched me.

"Riven," he said against my shoulder, just my name.

One hand slid down my stomach to wrap around my cock and I nearly buckled, the sensation amplified through the binding until it felt like being touched everywhere at once.

He stroked slowly while his other hand stayed at my chest, still working my nipple, his mouth never leaving my neck and shoulders, kissing and biting and marking me.

"Azryth," I gasped. "I need..."

His hand left my cock and I made a sound of protest that turned into a moan when I felt him sink to his knees behind me.

His hands gripped my hips, spreading me open, and then his tongue was on me, hot and wet, licking over my entrance in broad strokes that made my vision white out.

"Oh fuck," I choked out, my arms shaking with the effort of holding myself up. "Azryth, what..."

He didn’t answer, just kept licking, his tongue circling and pressing, working me open with patient thoroughness while I trembled and gasped above him.

When his tongue pushed inside I actually shouted, the sensation so intense I nearly collapsed, and his hands tightened on my hips, holding me steady while he fucked me with his tongue, slow and deep and absolutely devastating.

Through the binding I felt his own pleasure at this, at tasting me, at making me fall apart, and it fed back into my own until I couldn’t tell where my sensation ended and his began.

He pulled back finally and I heard him fumbling with something, then his fingers, slick now, circled where his tongue had been.

He pushed one inside and I welcomed it, already opened from his mouth, and he added a second quickly, scissoring them to stretch me wider.

"Please," I gasped. "Azryth, please, I’m ready."

I heard him stand, heard the rustle of him finally stripping off his remaining clothes, and then I felt him line himself up.

He pushed in slowly and I felt every inch, the stretch and burn and perfect fullness, and we both made broken sounds as he bottomed out.

"Riven," my name again, reverent this time, like a prayer.

He started to move, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, and I gripped the sheets hard enough to hurt, the angle hitting something deep inside me that made stars explode behind my eyes.

His rhythm built gradually, each thrust harder than the last, and I could hear the wet sound of our bodies meeting, could feel the bed shifting under us.

One of his hands came around to wrap around my cock again, stroking in time with his thrusts, and I was already close, already teetering on the edge.

"Azryth," I gasped. "I can’t... it’s too much..."

He didn’t slow down, just pulled me up by my shoulder so my back was against his chest, changing the angle again, going even deeper.

His mouth found my neck, biting down on the junction of neck and shoulder while his hand worked my cock, and through the binding I felt how close he was, felt the pleasure coiling tight in both of us.

His other hand slid up to my chest, finding my nipple again and pinching hard, and that was it, that was all I could take.

"Azryth..! I’m... oh god... I’m..."

Orgasm crashed through me and I came hard, spilling over his hand and onto the sheets, the binding flaring so bright I went blind with it.

He followed immediately, his rhythm breaking as he buried himself deep and I felt him pulse inside me, filling me with heat that I felt both physically and through the binding.

We stayed locked together, both gasping, and slowly he turned me, his cock slipping out as he guided me onto my back on the bed.

I thought we were done, thought we’d collapse now and hold each other, but he was already moving, settling between my legs, and I realized he was still hard.

"Again?" I asked breathlessly.

He didn’t answer, just kissed me deep and slow while his hand guided himself back inside, and this time the angle was different, face to face, and I could see his expression as he pushed in.

His eyes were molten, completely undone, and through the binding I felt what he couldn’t say, gratitude that I’d chosen him, that I’d walked away from that good life, that I’d proven our love was real despite the manipulation, despite everything.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he made a sound low in his throat before starting to move again.

This time was slower, more deliberate, his hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that built pleasure gradually instead of all at once.

His mouth found mine and we kissed messily, open-mouthed and desperate, while he moved inside me with steady purpose.

"Riven," he said against my lips, then again, "Riven," like my name was the only word he remembered.

I understood what he meant, felt it all through the binding, love and gratitude and absolute certainty, and I pulled him closer, needing to feel every inch of contact.

His hand slid between us to wrap around my cock again and I gasped into his mouth, already sensitive from coming once, the pleasure almost too much.

"Azryth... wait... it’s too..." I couldn’t finish the sentence, could only make broken sounds as he stroked me in time with his thrusts.

He shifted the angle slightly and I cried out, the new position hitting that spot inside me with every movement.

"Oh god... yes... right there... don’t stop..."

His rhythm increased, harder now, faster, and I could feel him getting close again, could feel the pleasure building in both of us through the binding.

"Riven," my name again, chanted like a mantra, and his hand tightened on my cock.

"I’m... Azryth, I’m going to..."

"Yes," he managed. "Together."

Three more thrusts, perfect and devastating, and I came again, less intense than before but somehow deeper, and I felt him follow, felt him shudder and pulse inside me as the binding flared bright between us.

He collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, and we both gasped for air while the binding slowly settled from blazing to a warm glow.

After a moment he shifted, rolling us to the side so we were facing each other, still joined, and his hand came up to cup my face gently.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with those amber eyes that saw everything, and through the binding I felt it all, everything he couldn’t put into words, gratitude and love and wonder that this was real, that I was real, that despite the manipulation and the trials and everything, we’d chosen each other.

"I love you too," I said quietly, answering what he’d shown me without speaking.

Something in his expression cracked open, vulnerable in a way I rarely saw, and he pulled me closer, his forehead resting against mine.

"Our meeting was manufactured," I said. "But this isn’t, what we feel, what we have, that’s real."

"I know." His voice was rough. "The trials proved it."

"We proved it." I kissed him softly. "We chose this, chose each other, that makes it ours."

I felt his agreement, felt how much those words meant to him, and we lay there holding each other while our breathing gradually evened out.

Eventually he pulled out carefully and we both winced, but he didn’t go far, just reached for something to clean us up with minimal efficiency before pulling me back against him.

I settled into his arms, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat while the binding hummed contentedly between us.

"You know," I said after a while. "When we first met, I thought the binding was forcing us to feel things."

"I remember." His hand moved through my hair slowly. "We both did."

"I can’t even imagine thinking that anymore." I pressed closer. "If this isn’t real, then nothing can be."

His arms tightened around me.

We lay in comfortable silence, and I felt myself starting to drift, exhaustion finally catching up after limbo and the trials and this.

"Sleep, for now," he said quietly. "We have hours before dawn."

"Are you planning to wake me up for...?"

"Absolutely."

I smiled against his chest. "Looking forward to it."

He did wake me, twice more before exhaustion finally claimed us completely, and each time was different, sometimes slow and tender, sometimes urgent and desperate, always connected through the binding that made everything more.

By the time dawn lightened the sky we were tangled together so completely I couldn’t tell whose limbs were whose, marked and sore and completely satisfied.

The binding pulsed warm between us.

Tomorrow we’d face rifts and enemies and whatever else tried to kill us.

But tonight had been ours, proof that what we felt was real, that we’d chosen each other freely despite everything, that love could exist even when the beginning had been manipulated.

And that was enough.