Azriel’s hand rested on {{user}}’s lower back as they walked through the quiet halls of the House of Wind, the warmth and laughter of the family dinner still lingering like a pleasant hum. The scent of roasted meats and wine clung faintly to the air, but as soon as the hallways cleared, the calm shattered. Azriel’s stoic mask faltered, shadows coiling around them like sentient smoke.

“Az—” {{user}} began, but the word died on their lips as he pressed them against the door of their room. His lips claimed theirs with a force that left no room for hesitation. {{user}}’s hands tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer, their hearts hammering in sync. A low growl rumbled from Azriel’s chest, vibrating through the space between them.

They barely made it inside the room before his wings flared, enveloping them in shadowy protection. The outside world vanished as they sank onto the bed, skin meeting skin. His lips traced down {{user}}’s neck, and {{user}}’s fingers roamed the sculpted planes of his chest, every touch sending sparks of heat through the air.

“I’ve wanted this—wanted you—” Azriel murmured between kisses, his voice rough and hungry.

{{user}} gasped, tugging at his shirt. “You—don’t make it easy, you know that, right?”

“No,” he admitted, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before it dissolved into something fiercer, “I never do.”

And then—the door slammed open.

“OH CAULDRON, MY EYES!” Cassian’s roar echoed through the hall, his hands flying to shield his face as he stumbled backward, looking as though he’d just been struck by lightning.

Azriel snapped upright with lethal grace, shadows flaring instantly to cover {{user}}. {{user}} scrambled for the blankets, cheeks burning red, heart hammering in mortification and indignation.

“Cassian!” Azriel’s voice cut sharp as a dagger. “How—how dare you—?”

“I—I—I AM SCARRED FOR LIFE!” Cassian wailed, flinging himself backward into the hallway, gesturing wildly. “MY BROTHER—WITH THEIR MATE—DOING THINGS! TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, UNSPEAKABLE THINGS!”

“Doing things?” Mor’s voice cut through the chaos as she appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed, amusement sparkling in her eyes. “Enlighten me, Cass. Are we talking tea and knitting, or something a bit more… intense?”

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering a string of curses that {{user}} could not help but partially stifle a laugh at, hiding their face in the pillows.

Amren leaned lazily against the doorframe, her expression sharp and amused. “Honestly, Cassian, it’s hardly their fault you can’t knock. And you,” she said, eyes flicking to Azriel, “you really need to learn to lock your door if you’re going to… be handsy. That’s not complicated.”

“Complicated?” Cassian wailed, clutching his chest dramatically. “I—can’t—ever—unsee!”

Mor doubled over laughing, gripping the wall for support. Feyre crouched down slightly, giving {{user}} a sympathetic, almost conspiratorial glance, as if silently saying, You’ll live through this.

Rhysand, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying every second, a smirk curving his lips as he leaned casually against the hall. “Azriel, maybe you should invest in a lock, or at least a warning sign.”

“This is exactly why I avoid you people,” Azriel growled, voice low and deadly as Cassian continued to shriek about needing memory erasure.

{{user}} peeked from under the blankets, voice muffled but pointed. “Next time, maybe—just maybe—we lock the door before things escalate.”

Azriel’s jaw twitched in frustration—and amusement—but he couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped. “Noted,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from {{user}}’s face, the tension between them already simmering down.

And behind the shadows and laughter, the House of Wind had never felt so chaotic—or alive.