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tadpolesonalgae · 10 months

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Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Part 4[*]

A/N: woah (don’t worry, he’s very mean in the next chapter)

Summary: Juice melting like raspberry pomegranate it’s so scary how my aura got him howling at my moon cycle, baby

Warnings: period sex, periods, blood?

-Part 3- -Part 5-

You wake at the feel of hands gently wrapping around your thighs, smoothly shifting your body into a downward position. You start, hands slamming down as you push yourself upright. Beneath you, the bed sighs, followed by a deep groan. No— no, that’s Azriel. “Go back to sleep,” he urges quietly, hands lifting to your hair, encouraging you to settle back down.

You blink, eyes growing accustomed to the dark, but you can feel well enough. Your thighs are spread over his lap—serving as a gentle reminder that he sleeps naked—hands resting on his fur dusted stomach, a sign he’s still partially transformed. “What…?” you breathe, moving to lift from his hips. There’s only a thin slip of silk between you, and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“I said, go back to sleep,” he growls, fingers fisting in your hair as he brings your head to his chest. You try to shift, uncomfortable with how close you are to the dæmon. He growls again, louder this time. It seems you’re somehow quick to irritate him. “You fail my orders again and you will sleep on the floor, at the foot of the bed. Like those hounds your puerile kings keep.”

It’s enough to convince you to go with him, resting your head on the muscled planes of his chest. You want neither to jab him nor to drool while you sleep, so it takes a while.

“Do you usually put your hands on me when I’m unaware?” You manage, voice small and scared to his ears. “Sometimes,” he answers. When he feels you stiffen, he grins to the darkness. “When you’re about to roll of the edge,” he adds.

“I do not,” you insist quietly, ear pressed to hear the triple beat of pulses. The both of you are riddled with fatigue, desperately in need of sleep. “The next time you’re about to fall, I’ll let you.” Strangely, a smile lifts your lips. He feels the soft huff of air that indicates your amusement, and his hand settles more comfortably over your hair, free hand tucked beneath his head.

“Cruel as ever,” you slur in your half-awake state, his heart thumping regularly. He hums in response and you can feel it in his chest. You find you like the sound. You wonder what it would be like to be this close to him when he purrs. You’ve only really ever heard him do it once, and you try not to think back to how he acted in the bathhouse, lest he sense your thoughts and get the wrong impression.

Still…

You wonder what it would sound like if he laughed, but you quickly dismiss the thought. The dæmon’s probably never smiled genuinely a day in his life.

Instead of making you chuckle, you feel vaguely sad.

What was life without laughter?

————

You wake to thin threads of sunlight spearing through the black out curtains, one beaming directly into your eye. You groan softly, lifting slightly to turn your head but you hiss. You can feel the jarring sting of pain in your lower belly, as if someone has strung out your abdominals and begun plucking at them. Shit.

Fisting your hands, you stiffly roll off the male, getting to the edge of the bed. You need to find something to line your underwear with. Maybe some perfume too. You didn’t want to take any chances, not with the dæmon’s preternatural sense of smell.

Another wave of cramping seizes you and you lean heavily on the chest that contains your clothes. You pant, trying to haul in deep breaths to calm yourself. You swallow. Inside the chest isn’t anything helpful, though you don’t really know what you’re looking for. A scarf that would be easy to fold?

Your breaths are becoming more ragged by the second, and you drop to a crouch, pressing your thighs together. Fuck. Any second, and you’ll start bleeding. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you need to find something, quickly.

“Looking for something?” His displeasure is clear, and you can practically hear the downward twist of his lips. You try to turn, but you can’t. Just focus on breathing. Breathe, and then you can move. You haul in a steady breath, holding it, then releasing it. A soft snarl sounds from just behind you, and you startle, tumbling over from your unstable crouch. Pain stings through your thighs, lancing up your back as you curl into a ball, hands pressing to your lower abdomen.

“Come back to bed or I’ll drag you back.”

When you don’t manage a reply, his canines latch into the nape of your night clothes, moving to pull you backward. You gasp at the feeling, his breath sending shivers spider-walking down your spine. In the back of your mind, you think you manage to move a hand in poor attempts to bat him away, but then you feel the ground sliding out beneath you.

“Azriel!” You hiss through your gritted teeth, muscles going taut in your body with tension. He stops, and you hear him sniff. Your stomach rises to your throat but you shove it back down, managing to scuttle away from him a little when his jaws releases you. Shuffling back—trying not to use the muscles in your lower stomach or thighs—you prop yourself against the chest. Heavy pants blow from your lips and already you feel exhausted.

He watches you silently, then prowls forward on his silent paws. You tense as he draws closer, squeezing your legs together as you turn slightly, hiding away from him. He sniffs again when he’s beside you, and his brow narrows. One hand lands on your knee, and it’s so warm, so delightfully heated. The tightness in your muscles relax, melting beneath him as he demandingly pushes your legs apart.

Pure mortification flushes your cheeks as he presses his head between your legs—more specifically, onto your abdomen—scenting you. Your fingers thread through his hair, attempting weakly to push him away. You make a few tries at lifting your legs to kick against his shoulders but your body is already so drained. You exhale heavily at the effort it’s already taken to get this far.

“Azriel…” you manage, shakily, still trying to push him away. His head lifts, and you’re staring at charcoal black. Black as pitch. No hazel to be found. “I’m sorry…” you breathe, so viscerally scared that your pain is momentarily forgotten. Your arms clutch tighter, your whole body going taut with fear as he gazes down at you. His shadows build at your back, and you try not to flinch as they flick softly at your skin, whispering over the uncovered areas.

He shifts, prowling around your body, then his arms hook beneath your legs and under your shoulders, lifting you smoothly into the air. You take a sharp intake of breath at the movement, hands clutching your abdomen. The shadows again brush at your skin, flicking at your cheeks and neck. You squirm at the feeling but stop when he crawls onto the bed, setting you down near the middle.

The male pulls away, and you start as strips of linen appear at your side. Thick ones. He stands at the edge of the bed, arms folded as he watches you. You don’t move, too scared and confused. His eyes flick from the linen, to you, commanding. Your skin heats, “you’re not going to look away?”

His lip curls, “put them on.” Another twinge of pain strings through your abdomen as you curl over yourself. “I already know what you look like. Why are you hesitating?” The pads of your fingers press into your skin as you bite back a whine at the prickling feeling beneath your skin. You fail fairly badly, a whimper coming from your lips as you feel the weakness in your body increasing.

The bed dips and you want to crawl away as he prowls closer, in that vaguely humanoid form of his, fur dusting his body while talons protrude from his finger tips. “What are you doing?” You pant softly, trying to lean away from him as he slots himself between your legs, in that entitled way of his. A dull throb of heat eases the pain at the action and you grit your teeth.

“You need the linen to soak up the blood.”

You still entirely, mouth parted, eyelids stuck to your skull as you stare up at him in mortification. “W—…What did you say?” You manage, hardly a whisper. His brow narrows in displeasure, “human hearing isn’t that bad.”

“No…I know…but, repeat it. Please?” You breathe, trying to understand what he’s said because there was no way you’d heard correctly. Irritation shines in the blackness of his eyes, “you’re on your moon’s blood.”

No—you’d heard right.

“That’s not— You can’t—…” you stare up at him, bewildered. You lick your lips that have gone dry, “you can’t talk about it.” This time he scowls, “is this another one of your foolish human customs? You’re going to bleed all over yourself. Move.” Your face feels like it’s been set aflame, leaving you petrified. “Are you somehow incapacitated?” He growls, and despite the obvious taunt, there’s an underlying tone of serious question.

When you remain in stunned silence, his talons snap in, leaving the tips of his finger bare as they hook beneath your underwear. You suck in a breath, struggling with the little leeway you have before pain stings your insides. “What are you doing?” You breathe, attempting to wriggle out of his hold. “Azriel!” You scream at him when he pulls your underwear from your hips gently, placing folded linen inside. You try to snap your legs shut but his shadows keep them just enough apart. Then you try to kick him but again his shadows lock you in place.

You want to smack him.

His brow narrows, and you swear you might reach the grave when his shadows push your legs wider. His thumbs land either side of your heat, softly spreading the skin. Your jaw drops as you watch him peer between your legs with analytical curiosity—if it can be described as such. He looks up from between your thighs, “all this fuss and you aren’t even bleeding yet.” One of you has to die. You can’t live knowing he’s seen you like that. Changed you like a child.

Embarrassment heats your features. “Do dæmon women not experience pain before…bleeding?” You stammer the last word, hardly even breathing it from shame. “Females.” He corrects, staring you down. “Your kind is the only one that rejects the terms. And no, they do not cramp before bleeding.”

“Okay…” you manage, weakly, “some of my kinds women do.” His nostrils flare, eyes flicking to yours. “You’re starting.”

You jolt, raising your hips and hurriedly pulling your underwear up hastily, finally concealing yourself from him. Another wave of cramps over take you, and you still, relaxing your lower body as you grit your teeth. Your hand presses over your abdomen as you wince, eyes squeezing shut.

Azriel watches you through glazed eyes. He can practically scent all the changes in your body. When you bite your lip again, nearly hard enough to draw blood, he grips your thighs, gently spreading them. You hiss as he moves your legs to his pleasure, feeling as he settles between them. You crack your eyes open, wide enough to look at him. “What—…are you doing?” You manage, breathing softly.

Your breath hitches as he places his large hand over your covered heat, warmth spilling over in your lower stomach pleasantly. Your eyes flutter momentarily at the comforting hotness, muscles melting beneath his touch. “You’re hurting.” He states, and you freeze as his mouth meets your inner thigh, eyes snapping open. Your gazes latch onto one another, and you feel as though you can’t breathe as he moves closer to your cunt.

Dæmon saliva possesses healing properties.

You try to quickly push away from him but his shadows are snuggly wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place. “Azriel…” you breathe, beginning to panic when his fingers hook beneath the fabric clinging to your hips. He begins to pull them away, but you press your ass down into the bed, refusing to let him strip you down.

The male shifts, growing in size, features sharpening into a more beastly form, power thrumming beneath his fur covered skin. Those talons tap gently at your waist, over your stomach, waiting impatiently. “What do you think you’re doing?” You pant, the heat of arousal softening the aching cramps.

His lip pulls back from his teeth in a quiet snarl. “Relieving your pain.” His tongue unfurls from his mouth, lapping over your stomach, moving lower until it’s over your abdomen, meeting the offending line of fabric. “Azriel do not,” you snap pleadingly. He stops, eyes narrowing as they flick to you. “You enjoy the pain?” He asks, sincerely, watching as your cheeks heat.

Hesitantly, you shake your head. “No…but I don’t want you to—…do that…” His brow quirks, shifting back in the blink of an eye as he prowls up your body, caging you in. His lifts lift in a taunting grin at the edges, “do what?” You grit your teeth at his antics.

“…What you did in the bathhouse…” you manage, eyes flickering away from his. He smirks, “you liked what I did in the bathhouse. Very much.” Heat encompasses your body, setting you alight with embarrassment. “That was different.” You flush under his gaze.

He stares you down for a while, and you’re about to look away when he speaks. “It goes against my instincts to let you be in pain when I can solve it.” You swallow, warmth spreading across your chest at his admission, “I’m not your responsibility…in that way. I’ve had many before and I will be perfectly fine once the week ends.” His lips curl back from his teeth in a snarl, “a week?” You nod, tensing at the response.

A growl rumbles in his chest, so deep you can feel it from beneath him. His talons slice into the sheets as his fingers tighten in the material. “You’re a pain to take care of,” he practically spits, the talons zipping back into his knuckles. You fight against the instinct to lower your head in shame, but instead your attention is caught as he raises his fingers to his mouth. You still as his tongue laps over his middle and forth finger, absolutely coating them in saliva.

Hot humiliation burns through you at the feelings the image drags from you, the distinct soothe of arousal softening the edge of pain. “Open your legs.” He drawls. You shake your head adamantly. His brow narrows, “I’m being very generous and finding a way to work around your absurd belief in human dignity, now shut up and open your damned legs.” He growls.

Tears spring at the edges of your eyes, squeezing your thighs shut tighter. You don’t need him being so harsh at the moment, it’s too much to deal with. Azriel watches, irritated, as you refuse his help. Do you not understand it will relieve your pain? Foolish woman.

His shadows curl at his back, whispering into his ear, bringing memories from the bathhouse. At first, he tries to bat them away, he doesn’t need to be aroused right now, it will cloud his judgement. But then they bring him images of how your arms had wrapped over his shoulders, thighs hugging his hips tightly. They bring him the gentle press of your lips in his hair, relentless and soft, as if you needed to complete the actions for some reason. He’d chalked it up to being another strange human custom he was neither interested in, nor cared for.

But he looks down at you, tears brimming at the edges of your gaze, about ready to spill. Yes. They whisper. Copy. Reciprocate. Reluctantly, he lowers to be closer to you, hands bracing either side of your head as you move to wipe away the salty water. He clasps your wrist, pulling it away as his lips press against your cheek. His shadows replay the memory: the marks started with a firm press, the gradually lightened, fading to a quiet whisper, an erotic imitation of their previous glory. So he copies.

Your heart stutters as he presses harsh kisses to your cheek, softening when he brushes his mouth over your eyelids, tongue flicking over your damp lashes. His lips press over your brow, your nose, the corner of your own mouth, capturing your lower lip with his teeth as he tugs. He senses progress as you become pliable beneath his hands, your arms again sliding over his shoulders as you pull him closer. You raise to him, kissing him back, desperate for a soft touch from the male.

He calms more at the familiarity. He knows how to kiss your mouth. His canines nip, tongue shoving into your mouth as he tastes you, remembering how you keened for more the last time he did this. Yet you whimper, fingers tugging at the thick strands of his hair. Slower. His shadows whisper. He nearly growls, but manages to swallow it down, forcing himself to gentle. Wait. They instruct. For what? He wants to snarl, but he pulls out of your mouth anyway, resorting to slanting his lips over your own.

Your hold lessens, hand sliding to the nape of his neck, one arm wrapping over his shoulder while the other cups his jaw. He could groan with relief when your tongue flicks out, so small and gentle compared to his slash of teeth. Reciprocate. The shadows chant, and he presses against you. He makes the mistake of scenting you, and nearly bites down on you when he catches the strength of your arousal. He loses control momentarily, canines catching on your tongue, making you whimper.

But instead of pulling away, your thighs part, curling around his hips; he nearly loses his mind when you put the blunt edge of your teeth over his lip, copying the way he tugged at yours to the best of your ability. His eyes nearly roll.

Azriel takes a chance—something he’s unaccustomed to—and rolls his hips gently between your thighs. You moan into his mouth, thighs tightening. He pulls away, before he loses control on your body, and his. A strand of saliva connects your mouths, your cheeks warm from the intimacy. His gaze latches on your half-lidded one, your pupils blown out in a way that emphasises your harmlessness. His muscles lock in place however, as you lean upward, tongue flicking over his lower lip to catch the silvery thread of saliva.

Try again. His shadows urge. Try again.

He shifts, one hand cupping your jaw like you had, thumb brushing beneath the coarse flutter of your lashes. He watches, enthralled, as you lean into his warmth, pressing your cheek into the inward curve of his palm, slotting perfectly against one another as you preen. “You’re my female,” he breathes, and he’s surprised by how rough his voice sounds against the softness of your pants. “My human Woman,” he corrects gently. “So let me take care of you.”

You swallow, and he marks the roll of your throat absently, thoughts trailing away to less wholesome things. Your lips part, and he can feel your uncertainty. “Okay…” you breathe quietly. He stills. He hadn’t really expected you to comply. Huh. That’s all it takes? Just a few presses of his mouth and you’ll do as he asks? Good to know. He’ll be exploiting that later.

“Just…” you add, when he begins to move down your body. He looks up at you, and you feel the full weight of his attention. And maybe you bask in it for a moment or two, delight in the press of his eyes against your skin. “Please be gentle,” you murmur, heat warming your cheeks as you touch the pads of your fingers to your lips, replaying the warm kiss of his lips. He nods, moving lower, hands settling against the insides of your thighs.

“And…please don’t use your tongue.” His brow narrows. That’s how his saliva works. He needs to use his tongue. You sense his resistance, biting your lip. “…directly. Please…don’t use it directly. On me, I mean,” you mumble, fingers twining together over your abdomen. Compromise. His shadows whisper. Compromise. He thinks your requests over. ‘Directly…don’t use it directly.’ Okay, he can work around that. “Fine.”

He rewets his fingers, coating them in his healing saliva, before pulling your underwear to the side. He rubs his middle and forth finger slowly around your entrance, pushing in one set of knuckles at a time. Your back arches slightly, too scared to move as your body asks for fear of that pain. You’re tense with fear that it’ll hurt, that he’ll start getting rougher, that he won’t remember he has to be delicate with your human body. If his talons come out, you’re dead.

You shove the thought away.

Azriel can feel the resistance, how you’re uncontrollably tight around his fingers, hesitance lining your body even as you pant out slow, hot breaths from behind your hand. “Relax,” he orders, making you shoot him a look, but you try to relax your lower body. He growls inwardly, it’s not enough. He knows you can sense his displeasure, and it’s making you hesitant to open up for him.

His dark eyes latch onto yours, “not directly, right?” He feels you tighten around him—from pleasure. You nod, heat warming your face, trying to maintain a normal conversation while he has his fingers knuckle deep inside your increasingly slick cunt. You observe warily as he settles lower, his head right between your legs.

His tongue lolls out, and you swear your muscles seize as he presses the flat, wet, heat of the silver-tipped muscle over your clit. Even through your underwear, you can feel that firm stimulation, the hotness melting your lower body, drinking the strength from your muscles. He sees this, and moves your legs over his back, your thighs pressing against the broad width of his shoulders.

You relax, allowing him to move his fingers in slow, languid strokes, simply in and out, no curling or prodding that would normally stimulate you. He knows you’re too sensitive for that at the moment. His mouth continues to work through the offending fabric that clings to your hips. You wince when he pushes all the way in, a small sting of pain echoing along your abdomen.

It’s second nature as he pulls his fingers out, moving to rewet them with saliva, not at all bothered at the substance coating them. Your breath catches, “Azriel…!” You gasp softly. His fingers still a little way from his mouth. You shake your head meekly, “please, don’t…” He sighs roughly, but lowers his fingers. He supposes you aren’t a dæmon, so in a strange way it makes sense how uncomfortable the idea makes you. One day, he’ll change your mind. If it goes well.

Instead, he settles for spreading your entrance a little wider, spitting between your legs as his thumb soothes over your clit. Your back fully arches, hips shifting as you tighten around nothing. The sequence of actions is followed by your hand hastily covering your mouth, embarrassed over your reaction. He gives you a smug look that lets you know he’ll be pressing you on that later.

For now, he simple return his fingers to your entrance, scooping up the saliva as he pushes in. You already feel looser; more relaxed. Once again, he lower his mouth between your thighs, latching onto your clit seamlessly, effortlessly locating your pleasure centre.

Within moments, you feel your high approaching. All you can focus on is the gentle press of the lads of his fingers, and that wet heat of his tongue as it laps over your clit through the soaked material. “Az…” you pant, not able to finish his name through your melting mind. You swallow, pushing up ever so slightly in order to latch your gaze onto his, “Azzie…” You try to tell him how close you are, even if you want nothing more than to sink into the bed, indulge in the pleasure of his mouth and fingers.

He does something wicked with his tongue, seeing how high you’re soaring. His shadows sneak beneath the silky robe of your night gown, flicking over your nipples as they play with them. Your mouth drops open as you flutter around him helplessly, taking every wave of euphoria as it washes over you, rinsing your bones of their ache. A high pitched moan spills from your mouth, making the male growl possessively. You nearly cry at the vibrations that sing down his tongue onto your sensitive clit. “Azriel…!” Your eyes screw shut as you arch, winding your hips subconsciously against him.

Azriel pulls away when the aftershocks fade, fingers sliding out gently—cleaned with half a thought—as he looks down at you, basking in your bliss. Bliss that he’s brought you to on only his fingers and mouth. Satisfaction warms his chest as he sees you satiated, hands no longer clutching your abdomen in pain.

Your tongue wets your lips as you shuffle into a vague sitting position on the bed, reaching for a large pillow. Shadows wrap beneath the cushion, dragging it to you as they push you back down, forcing you to relax. He shifts, making to move off the bed, but is stopped by your hesitant voice. “Are you going somewhere?” He turns to look at you, body still radiating heat, this straps of your night gown spilling over your shoulders, allowing him to take in your perky nipples. He licks his lips at the sight, before his gaze raises to your flushed one, knowing where he looked. “Do you want another one?”

You’re slightly startled at the phrasing. Want not need. As if he cares about what you might desire that isn’t an absolute necessity. You manage a shake of your head. He nods, mouth set in that bland line again, “then I’ll be leaving.”

“Wait.” You say, suddenly. With some effort, you move onto your hands and knees, crawling across the large expanse of the bed. His eyes light with vague amusement at the action, watching you though with slight wariness.

You push up onto your knees, hands settling on his shoulder before you can second guess yourself. Maybe if you show him how much you like it when he’s gentle, he’ll do it more often. You press a kiss to his brow, lingering before pulling away to peer into his black eyes. “Thank you…” you mumble, the words brushing over his mouth. You press a kiss to the top of his nose, and he blinks, the only reaction he gives.

Reciprocate.

He looks at your lips, plump from attention.

Reciprocate. They urge.

He leans forward, interested in your human affection. It’s fascinating. From a learning perspective. It’s good to know what weapons will work to manipulate you, where your deficiencies are, even if you’re a walking weak spot.

His mouth laps over your own, a smooth give and take. Compromising.

Your hand trails down over his chest, splaying across where a human heart would lie. You pull away, and he notices you’ve shifted closer to him, skin pressing into the strong lines of him. “That’s twice I’m indebted to you.” His eyes flick to yours as his hands brush up your thighs. There’s something different about the tone of your voice.

It’s almost…sultry.

He swallows.

“Whenever you’re ready to call them in, Azriel…” you breathe softly, a hot glint in your eye as you stare down at him. Your fingers trace delicate patterns over his skin, and his attention narrows on you. Perfectly compatible indeed.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020

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