Page 45 of Azrael

My breath caught as his mouth descended again, this time to the newly exposed skin of my collarbone, my chest, the curve of my breast.His stubble scraped deliciously against my sensitive skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.I arched up, seeking more contact, more friction, more of him.

Azrael’s hand slid beneath me, large and warm against the small of my back, supporting me as his mouth closed around my nipple.The wet heat of it tore a moan from my throat, loud in the otherwise quiet room.The only other sounds were our breathing, increasingly ragged, and the occasional distant rumble of traffic.

“Samir,” I gasped as his teeth grazed sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure-pain radiating through me.“Please.”

He raised his head, his dark eyes finding mine, pupils dilated with desire.“Please what?”

“More,” I managed, my hands moving to the buttons of his jeans.“Everything.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips before he bent to capture my mouth again, this kiss deeper, hungrier than before.His tongue swept against mine in a rhythm that promised other, more intimate invasions to come.I fumbled with his button fly, my usually deft fingers clumsy with want.

He pulled back, just enough to help me, pushing his jeans down his hips and kicking them off with an efficiency that spoke of practice.When he returned to me, there was only the thin barrier of his boxer briefs between us, doing little to hide his arousal.

My hands skimmed down his sides, feeling the subtle shift of muscle beneath taut skin, the occasional ridge of scar tissue, the sharp jut of his hipbones.When I reached the waistband of his underwear, he sucked in a breath, his control slipping just enough for me to notice.

“Keep that up,” he warned, voice like gravel, “and this’ll be over too quickly.”

“We have all night,” I reminded him, hooking my fingers beneath the elastic and tugging down.“And I want you.Now.”

Need flashed in his eyes -- hunger, possession, and something darker I couldn’t name -- and then he was moving, helping me remove that last barrier, then reaching for the drawer in his nightstand.I stopped his hand.

“I’m on the pill,” I said.“And I’m clean.You?”

“Clean,” he confirmed.“Get tested regularly.”

A necessary precaution in his world, though I didn’t ask and he didn’t elaborate.There was enough trust between us now that I believed him without question.And enough desire that I didn’t want anything between us, not tonight.

He settled back between my thighs, the weight of him both comforting and thrilling.I felt the hard length of him against me, hot and insistent.His eyes held mine as he positioned himself, one hand braced beside my head, the other guiding him to my entrance.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“I want this,” I said, my hands sliding up his arms to his shoulders, feeling the tension coiled there.“I want you, Azrael.”

He pushed forward slowly, filling me inch by deliberate inch, his eyes never leaving mine.I watched his face, fascinated by the play of emotion across features usually so controlled -- pleasure, concentration, and something that might have been awe.

When he was fully seated within me, he paused, both of us adjusting to the sensation.I felt stretched, completed, connected to him in the most primal way possible.My legs came up to wrap around his waist, changing the angle and drawing him even deeper.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the curse sounding like a prayer on his lips.

“Yes,” I agreed, rocking my hips against his in invitation.“Please.”

He chuckled softly, then began to move.Long, measured strokes that spoke of his iron control even in the midst of passion.His eyes remained locked on mine, watching each reaction, learning what I liked, what made me gasp and clutch at his shoulders.

I’d been with men before, but never like this.Never with this level of intensity, of focus.Azrael made love the way he did everything else -- with complete commitment and deadly precision.Each thrust was calculated for maximum effect, each touch designed to elicit the strongest response.

Our bodies moved together in the muted light, finding a rhythm that felt both new and familiar.I ran my hands down his back, feeling the shift of muscle as he moved above me, the light sheen of sweat that made his skin glow in the darkness.

“You feel so good,” I whispered, needing him to know, needing to break the silence that had fallen between us, punctuated only by the sounds of our breathing and the subtle creak of the mattress.

His response was to angle his hips differently, hitting a spot inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids.I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.He did it again, and again, relentless in his pursuit of my pleasure.

“Look at me,” he commanded as I felt the tension building, my body tightening around his.“I want to see you.”

I forced my eyes open, meeting his gaze as the wave crashed over me.The orgasm rippled through me with an intensity that bordered on pain, my body arching beneath his, my inner muscles clenching around him.Through it all, he watched me, his eyes burning with something that went beyond desire.

Only when the last tremor had passed did he allow himself to chase his own release, his rhythm becoming more urgent, less controlled.I held him tightly, my lips at his ear, whispering encouragement, wanting to give him even a fraction of what he’d given me.

When he came, it was with a groan that seemed torn from deep within him, his body tensing above mine, his face momentarily unguarded in a way I rarely saw.For those few seconds, he wasn’t Azrael, the Angel of Death.He was just a man, vulnerable and human.

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