[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, so 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 imdiately, 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 ti since before limbo.

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

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

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

This ti he didn’t wait, didn’t hesitate, just pulled 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.

The mont 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 again instead of answering, deeper this ti, 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 morize every inch by touch.

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

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

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 ca 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 .

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

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 .

"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 .

His hands gripped my hips, spreading open, and then his tongue was on , 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 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 steady while he fucked with his tongue, slow and deep and absolutely devastating.

Through the binding I felt his own pleasure at this, at tasting , at making 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 sothing, then his fingers, slick now, circled where his tongue had been.

He pushed one inside and I welcod it, already opened from his mouth, and he added a second quickly, scissoring them to stretch 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 bottod out.

"Riven," my na again, reverent this ti, 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 sothing deep inside 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 eting, could feel the bed shifting under us.

One of his hands ca around to wrap around my cock again, stroking in ti 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 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 and I ca hard, spilling over his hand and onto the sheets, the binding flaring so bright I went blind with it.

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

We stayed locked together, both gasping, and slowly he turned , his cock slipping out as he guided 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 deep and slow while his hand guided himself back inside, and this ti 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 ti 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 ssily, open-mouthed and desperate, while he moved inside with steady purpose.

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

I understood what he ant, 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 in ti with his thrusts.

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

"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 na 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 ca again, less intense than before but sohow deeper, and I felt him follow, felt him shudder and pulse inside as the binding flared bright between us.

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

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

He didn’t say anything, just looked at 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 without speaking.

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

"Our eting 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 agreent, felt how much those words ant 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 sothing to clean us up with minimal efficiency before pulling back against him.

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

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

"I rember." 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 .

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 up for...?"

"Absolutely."

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

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

By the ti 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.