CHAPTER 45
ARIA
He nuzzled into the curve of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. When his lips brushed gently along the sensitive spot just beneath my ear, a shiver rippled through me, the sensation electric and immediate.
“Aria,” he whispered, his voice husky and low, thick with emotion.
“You feel... incredible. So warm. So soft.”
My breath hitched. I leaned back into him, my head resting against his shoulder, heart pounding in rhythm with his. There was a stillness in the space between us, filled only by the sound of water and the thrum of something unspoken.
His hands moved slowly, reverently, exploring the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine—each touch sending sparks fluttering through me. There was no rush, only a growing tension, thick and magnetic.
When he kissed me, it wasn’t hurried or demanding. It was deep—anchored in something tender and aching. His mouth moved over mine with deliberate care, tasting, searching, matching the rhythm of my heartbeat as if he were trying to memorise it.
I melted into the kiss, fingers curling against his skin as the world narrowed to just this moment—his touch, his breath, the quiet hunger blooming between us.
His hands moved slowly down my back, his breath fanning across my neck, soft and reverent as though every inch of me was a prayer he had waited too long to say out loud.
“I don’t want to stop,” he whispered against my skin, his lips brushing my collarbone.
“I… can’t.”
I didn’t want him to stop either.
I didn’t even remember what it was I’d been afraid of before. All I could think about was him. His scent, his heat, the way he touched me like he already knew every curve, every shiver, every sigh I’d give him. And the way his eyes kept searching mine—hungry, yes—but not just with desire. With need.
Something primal. Something sacred.
So I stayed.
I shifted in his lap, straddling him, my dress now bunched uselessly around my waist, the water lapping gently around us. I slid my hands over his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath my palms. Faster now. Wild.
He gasped softly when I leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth—tentative at first, then deeper. His hands gripped my hips, not to push me away but to anchor me, as if he feared I might dissolve.
I moved against him slowly, aligning us, and when he slipped inside me, I exhaled a sound that felt like surrender.
His forehead dropped to my shoulder, his arms tightening. I felt his entire body tremble beneath mine.
“Aria,” he groaned, almost like it hurt.
He moved with a tenderness that shouldn’t have belonged to someone so strong. Every stroke was slow, deep, meant to connect—not conquer. And yet, something beneath the surface was shifting, like the heat between us was waking something ancient inside him.
"Aria," he growls, his voice filled with a raw, primal need.
"You're driving me crazy. I need more."
His hands find their way to my body, exploring, teasing, sending waves of pleasure through me.
He licks my ears, his tongue hot and wet, sending shivers down my spine. He moves lower, his lips capturing one of my nipples, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.
I moan, the sound echoing in the small bathroom, a testament to the intensity of my response.
His hands continue their exploration, moving lower, tracing the line of my hips, the curve of my ass, the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I could feel the tension building inside me, a coil of desire that threatens to snap at any moment.
When his fingers finally reach my most intimate place, I gasp, my body trembling with anticipation. He teases me, his fingers circling my clit, sending shocks of pleasure through my body. I buck against his hand, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of everything.
"Lean," I cry out, my voice filled with a mix of pleasure and desperation.
"Please. I need more."
He responds with a low, satisfied growl, his fingers delving deeper, exploring my wet, ready folds. He finds my entrance, his fingers teasing, probing, preparing me for what's to come.
"Lean," I moan, my body writhing against his touch, seeking more, needing more.
He captures my lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth with a hunger that matches my own.
As our bodies moved together, the world outside the bathroom faded.
There was only the water, the steam, our breath and the soft slosh of motion. His lips found mine over and over again, fevered and searching, and every time we kissed I felt something unravel between us. A tether is stretching.
A thread pulling tight.
His rhythm changed.
His hands gripped my thighs, fingers flexing as he thrust deeper, needier. I could feel him holding back, feel the tremble in his arms and the tension in his chest as he tried to stay gentle.
But something inside him was breaking.
Literally.
I felt it first as a vibration against my palm—his back muscles twitching, spasming just under the skin. Then I heard it.
A sound like stone cracking under pressure.
“Lean?” I pulled back to look at him.
His eyes were glowing.
Not subtly.
Not faintly.
They were glowing with a fierce molten gold, flickering like fire behind the irises.
He groaned again, louder this time.
His hands flew to his back instinctively, but it was too late. With a gasp, he arched beneath me, his head thrown back—and I saw them.
Cracks. Jagged and glowing. Splitting open across his shoulder blades like fissures in the earth.
“Don’t be afraid,” he gasped, panting, eyes wild but pleading.
“It’s just—my wings—Aria—I can’t stop it—”
With a sharp, wet sound, his wings erupted through his back, majestic and massive, dark like midnight but laced with veins of gold, as if they’d been forged from fire and shadow.
The tub was too small—he knocked over a shampoo bottle and soaked half the bathroom as they stretched wide, dripping and trembling behind him.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t run.
I just stared.
Stunned.
Breathless.
Beautiful didn’t even begin to cover it.
He looked like something from an old myth, a forgotten god sculpted in flesh and flame, and yet—he was still Lean. His hands were still on my waist. His eyes still burned for me.
He positions himself at my entrance, the head of his cock pressing against me, teasing, probing, promising.
"Aria," he murmurs, his voice filled with emotion. "
And with a single, powerful thrust, he enters me, filling me completely, stretching me, completing me in a way that I never knew was possible.
We move together, our bodies in perfect sync, our breaths mingling, our hearts beating as one. The water sloshes around us, the sound of our lovemaking echoing in the small bathroom, a symphony of desire and passion.
Lean's hands grip my hips, guiding my movements, helping me ride him, helping me find the perfect rhythm, the perfect angle, the perfect pressure. I can feel the tension building inside me, a coil of desire that threatens to snap at any moment.
"Lean," I cry out, my body convulsing as the orgasm hits me, a tidal wave of sensation crashing over me, leaving me breathless and spent.
"Oh my god, Lean!"
Then he groaned again, this time almost desperate.
“Aria—I’m close—”
So was I.
The sensation spiralled low and hot in my belly, curling tighter with every thrust. I clung to his shoulders, burying my face in the crook of his neck as the rhythm of our bodies turned frantic, frantic and right. The heat between us built and built, a rising tide that neither of us could stop.
When it finally broke, it did so like lightning.
He cried out, hoarse and raw, his hips slamming up into mine as his entire body shook beneath me. I came with him, clinging to him like I might shatter otherwise, the climax tearing through me like a tidal wave of fire and light.
For a moment, everything disappeared.
Time. Thought. Breath.
All of it vanished into the storm that passed between our bodies.
And then silence.
Only our heartbeats remained, wild and tangled, thundering in the stillness.
I collapsed against him, boneless and dazed, my chest heaving.
He held me, wings curled protectively around us like a blanket, like a barrier between us and the rest of the world.
I didn’t move for a long time.
Eventually, I whispered,
“That… that wasn’t normal, was it?”
He laughed softly, chest rumbling beneath my cheek.
“No,” he admitted, breath still shaky.
“That was… more.”
More.
That was one way to put it.
But a question lingered in the back of my mind, stubborn and unanswered.
“How long does your mating period last?” I asked quietly, still nestled against him.
He was quiet for a beat too long.
Then: “It… depends.”
“Depends?” I repeated, pulling back to look at him.
He looked sheepish. Guilty, even.
“Sometimes a few days. Sometimes weeks. Sometimes… longer.”
I blinked. “Weeks?”
“It’s not just physical,” he said quickly.
“It’s about bonding. The soul. It’s complicated.”
Complicated. Right.
And somehow, I had the feeling we were only at the beginning.
His fingers threaded through mine, and when I looked up at him, his expression softened.
“Does that scare you?”
I considered it. The wings. The heat. The way my body still trembled from him.
“No,” I said honestly. “But it should.”
His smile widened, and he pulled me back into his arms.
“Then I’ll make it worth your while.”