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Eris has barely any time to react before Azriel Shadowsinger is pulling him into a dark closet and pushing him up against the wall.
He faintly recalls having a dream that started similarly. Somehow he thinks this isn’t going to end the same way.
Azriel pulls him forward slightly and slams him into the wall again. “Did you do it.” It comes out as a command rather than a question, and anyone else might have gone weak at the dark steel laced under his words, an almost growl. Eris nearly does anyway.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Eris really doesn’t. He’d make a snide remark but he doesn’t quite feel like getting choked right now. Well, Eris thinks with a snort, in his dream…
“Stop playing games,” Azriel snarls. “Cassian. The note. You sent it.”
“I didn’t.” Eris vaguely remembers walking by and seeing Cassian pick up a piece of paper that had fallen out of his locker, remembers his face falling for just a moment before he’d crumpled it up into a ball, laughing. He briefly wonders what was written on it, but finds that he doesn’t particularly care that much. His attention is much more focused on the current predicament he’s found himself in.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I didn’t.”
Azriel searches his face. Eris pinpoints the exact moment he realizes that Eris isn’t lying. But he keeps Eris there, one arm braced against the wall, the other across Eris’ throat.
His eyes are still full of murderous intent, but all Eris can think about is their gorgeous hazel color, the way they shine as Azriel’s quiet rage simmers behind them.
This is a bad idea. This is a horrible idea, but it’s too late, Eris is already leaning forward and up, Azriel’s forearm digging into his jugular.
Eris starts it sweetly. It’s gentle - Beron would, Beron would beat him to a bloody pulp for the tenderness Eris betrays alone.
Then again, Eris’ softness would be the least of Beron’s problems with the picture they’re painting.
And what a picture it is.
Azriel returns it with the ferocity Eris saw in the tightness of his face as he had stalked towards Eris earlier, cornering him and slamming him into the wall. It’s teeth and tongue and years of pent up frustration, hate, and anger.
Eris’ head knocks back against the wall, Azriel pushing him. Azriel is wearing that- that sweater, the black one with the faint pattern of wings across the back. Eris grasps at it, pulling, holding on. At some point Azriel removes his arm from Eris’ throat to tangle his fingers in his hair. He tugs sharply, tilting Eris’ head even further upwards. Eris strains his neck to keep up, but then Azriel is leaning more down, deepening the kiss. Eris gasps into his mouth in surprise.
Eris should be thinking about this. He should think about Lucien and his girlfriend. What Beron had- what he’d started to do to Lucien before Eris had stepped in, the final nail in the coffin that finally drove his mother to divorcing him and taking Lucien with her. Eris doubts that Beron would be able to ruin the brother - adopted, but brother nonetheless - of Rhysand fucking Rajnish the way he’d ruined Jesminda, but Eris has always been fair game to Beron.
He should be thinking about how stupid this is, but he’s only thinking about the way Azriel presses into him, filling his space and mind and lungs. He’s half on the edge of choking, and can’t tell if Azriel is doing it on purpose.
Azriel’s mouth moves against his, and when he breaks the kiss - only for a second, only to draw a quick breath - Eris bites his lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, and Azriel devours him in retaliation.
The kiss continues, rough and messy and Eris drinks it in greedily, inhaling Azriel’s scent and savoring the taste of him on his tongue.
Azriel is the first to pull away, jerking back abruptly while pushing Eris into the wall. Eris follows with his head, chasing his lips, and hates himself for it.
They watch each other like that for a moment, breathing heavily, pupils blown wide open. Eris’ pale skin is flushed, it’s harder to see it reflected on Azriel’s brown skin but Eris can feel the telltale warmth radiating off of him. He knows Azriel feels his heart beating rapidly.
Azriel pushes off of him, mouth set into a grim line of determination. Without another word, in typical Azriel fashion, he turns on his heel and walks away. Eris is left there, chest heaving.
Eris sinks to the ground, puts his head in his hands, and breathes.