Chapter 73 The World Could Wait
Serafina
The water in the pool had cooled slightly, but my skin still burned everywhere Azerath had touched me. I stood at the shallow end, naked and strangely unafraid. Only hours ago I would have tried to cover myself, cheeks flaming, eyes averted. Now I felt no shame. Not with him.
Azerath watched me with that quiet intensity that made my pulse quicken. His scales had faded, leaving smooth, golden-brown skin stretched over powerful muscle, but the ember in his chest still glowed faintly beneath the surface, like banked coals waiting for a breath of air. He had just finished bathing me—his hands gentle yet sure as he washed away the blood and sweat from our battle with Elyndra, as well as the last traces of Dust and our journey here. Now it was my turn.
I stepped closer, the water lapping at my ankles. My hands trembled only a little as I reached for the soap. I was surprised by how steady I felt. No shyness. No urge to hide. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to explore every inch of the man—no, the dragon—who had claimed me so completely moments ago in this very pool.
I rubbed the soap between my palms until it foamed, then pressed my hands to his broad shoulders. The muscles there were firm and warm. I worked the lather down his arms, tracing the lines of sinew and vein. His chest rose and fell under my touch as I spread soap across the hard planes of his pectorals, then moved around to his upper back. My fingers glided over ridges of muscle, memorizing the feel of him.
Lower still. My hands traveled across his flat stomach, the defined lines of his abdomen tightening beneath my palms. I washed his lower back, then the sharp cut of his hips. The air between us grew thick with anticipation.
I knelt in the shallow water, the stone cool against my knees. I lathered his powerful thighs, working the soap down to his calves and feet with slow, deliberate strokes. When I looked up to focus on his groin, Azerath’s erection—thick, heavy, and fully aroused—brushed against my cheek.
“I apologize,” he sighed, voice rough with restraint. “I can’t—”
He never finished the sentence.
A low groan tore from his throat as I wrapped my fingers around his shaft. The skin was velvet-soft. I stroked him slowly at first, learning the weight and heat of him. My thumb circled the swollen head, spreading the bead of moisture that had gathered there.
“I warn you,” Azerath said through gritted teeth, eyes half-closed. “Don’t start what you cannot finish.”
I tightened my grip, moving my hand up and down with more confidence, feigning offense. “Don’t you like what I’m doing to you?”
His jaw clenched. A muscle ticked in his cheek. “I do,” he admitted, the words almost pained.
“Then enjoy it,” I whispered.
I poured fresh water over his shaft and legs, rinsing away the soap until he was clean and glistening. Then, without hesitation, I leaned forward and took him into my mouth.
"Serafina!" he gasped, as he looked down at me, eyes wide.
I explored him with my tongue, licking the sensitive head before sliding my lips further down his length. He was too thick for me to take all of him at once, so I used my hand on the base, stroking in rhythm as I bobbed my head. My other hand cupped his balls, gently rolling and massaging them. I could feel the tension building in his body—the way his thighs tightened, the way his cock throbbed against my tongue.
Azerath shuddered violently. “Your mouth feels heavenly,” he groaned, the sound deep and broken.
I took him deeper, relaxing my throat until the head nudged the back of it. Azerath’s hand came to rest lightly on my wet hair, not pushing, just holding. His groans grew louder, more desperate. I moved faster, sucking harder, lost in the power of giving him pleasure.
Just when I thought he would spill down my throat, Azerath suddenly pulled me off him with a sharp curse.
“No,” he rasped.
He hauled me to my feet and spun me around so my back pressed against his chest. His cock, slick from my mouth, nestled hot and heavy against the curve of my ass. I gasped as we faced the large mirror mounted on the bath hut wall.
The reflection showed everything.
My naked body—breasts full and flushed, nipples tight, the dark triangle of curls between my thighs. Azerath’s large hands gripped my hips possessively.
He lifted my left leg, placing my foot on the wide stone ledge so I was open to him. His fingers trailed down my stomach and found my folds. In the mirror I watched, wide-eyed, as he spread me open with two fingers, exposing the glistening pink flesh beneath.
“Already wet,” he murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. His gaze followed mine. His eyes burned with hunger as they met mine in the glass. “Ah, you’re watching. Do you like what you see?”
His other hand rose to cup my breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers until I whimpered. At the same time, he slid one thick finger inside me.
“Yeees,” I moaned, the sound drawn out and helpless.
“You’ll like this better,” he promised.
He replaced his finger with the blunt head of his cock. I felt the pressure, the stretch, as he pushed upward, slow but relentless. Inch by inch my body opened for him. I pushed down to meet him, my pussy swallowing his thick length until he was buried to the hilt and there was nothing left to see in the mirror but our joined bodies.
“Gods, you were made for me,” Azerath growled against my ear.
He drew out slowly until only the head remained inside me, his shaft shining with my arousal. Then he thrust back in, deeper, harder. He repeated the motion—long, deliberate slides that dragged against every sensitive spot inside me. His fingers found my swollen nub and began rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.
Pleasure coiled low in my belly, hot and bright. I rocked back against him, meeting every stroke. His pace quickened. His one hand left my breast to grip my hip, fingers digging in hard enough that I knew I would bruise tomorrow. I didn’t care. I wanted the marks. I wanted to feel him for days.
His thrusts turned rougher, faster. The wet sound of our bodies meeting filled the bath hut. My muscles tightened around his cock as the ember in my chest flared suddenly, glowing golden and warm.
Azerath’s fingers moved faster on my clit, his hips slamming into me. The pleasure sharpened, crested, then it exploded.
I screamed as I climaxed, his name tearing from my lips. “Azerath!”
My body clenched around him in powerful waves. Golden light burst from my chest, bathing us both. A heartbeat later, Azerath followed with a guttural groan. He buried himself deep and spilled inside me, pulse after pulse of hot seed flooding my womb. His cock throbbed as my walls milked every drop from him.
We stayed locked together, trembling through the aftershocks. His arms wrapped around me, one hand splayed possessively over my lower belly where I could still feel him pulsing faintly inside. Our breathing slowly evened out. In the mirror, I watched us—flushed, glowing, intimately joined—and felt a fierce, possessive joy.
Eventually, Azerath pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “As much as I'd like us to stay this way, you need to eat,” he said, voice still breathless. “Let’s dry up and have some breakfast.”
Food sounded heavenly. My stomach gave an eager rumble that made him chuckle softly.
We stepped out of the pool and dried each other with soft towels. I wrapped one around my body, tucking it above my breasts, while Azerath secured his low around his hips. The sight of him like that—damp hair, bare chest, towel barely containing the powerful lines of his body—sent another spark of desire through me. Later, I promised myself.
When we emerged from the bath hut, still wrapped in towels, Blink was waiting at the door. The big black wolf stood with her hackles raised, a low growl rumbling in her chest.
“Maybe there’s another one of your girlfriends waiting outside,” I teased, nudging Azerath with my elbow.
“Haha, very funny,” he replied dryly, though his lips twitched with amusement. He crouched slightly and called to the wolf. “Blink, what’s wrong?”
Blink padded toward us and huffed, nudging Azerath’s hand with her nose. She seemed agitated but not frantic.
“I’ll check later,” he said, glancing toward the sealed doorway of our sanctuary. “But first we eat.”
Azerath flicked his fingers and a generous spread of food appeared on the table—fresh bread, cheese, sliced fruits, roasted meats, a pitcher of cool spring water and some tea. The scent made my mouth water.
He pulled out a chair for me with exaggerated gallantry. I sat, adjusting the towel around my body, and began preparing a plate for Blink. Azerath took his place at the head of the table, his knee brushing lightly against mine beneath it.
I set Blink’s plate on the floor, piled with a generous portion of roasted pork. She ate quickly, then settled at our feet with a low, satisfied sigh. Still, her ears stayed alert, angled toward the door.
As I ate, I stole glances at him. The man who had just taken me so thoroughly against the mirror, who had filled me with his seed and called me his mate. The dragon who had burned for me. My husband.
Azerath caught me staring and smiled, slow and warm. He reached across the table and took my hand, brushing his thumb over my knuckles.
"What are you thinking, my light?" he asked softly.
I squeezed his fingers. "That I like eating with nothing but a towel wrapped around me," I said, a small grin slipping through.
He laughed. "Like I’ve told you before, you could walk around with nothing at all," he said, watching me. "I wouldn’t mind. I’d prefer it."
I shook my head. "I can’t make that a habit." My smile faded, something heavier settling in. "And soon… my brother will be with us." I hesitated, then pushed on. "With the Dust Warden and Magnus hunting us, where do we even go? The forest is vast, but living like that—always looking over your shoulder…" My voice tightened. "I’ve lived a life where I was always hungry. I know what that becomes. That’s not living."
Azerath nodded once, slow, like he had already walked that thought a hundred times. "I have thought about it," he said. "My offer still stands. I will burn Aetheria to the ground and make you Empress."
I looked at him, eyes narrowing. "Azerath…"
A faint smile touched his lips. "Fine. You don’t want to be Empress."
"It’s not the crown," I said. "It’s the burning."
He let out a quiet breath, close to a laugh. "Then we could go to Dragonia. Or Ember."
I searched his face. "Do you even know if those places still exist?"
He paused. For once, there was uncertainty.
"No," he admitted. Then, after a moment—" How about The Veiled Sanctum?"
The mountain.
I nodded. "That… could work," I said.
I leaned forward, towel slipping slightly, and kissed him over the remnants of our breakfast. It was softer than the ones we had shared earlier, but no less full of promise.
"Hmmmm," Azerath murmured against my lips. "You know... we still have the rest of the day before we begin our rescue mission."
I smiled, still close enough to feel his breath.
Outside our magical hut, the world could wait a little longer.
For now, there was only this—food, warmth, and the man who looked at me like I was the sun itself.