Chapter Text
Azriel grinned as he padded out of the bathroom, skin prickling when the cool air wafted over his still-damp form. Gwyn was taking an inventory of her bag, likely for the third time since they got out of bed, mumbling adorably to herself as she checked off each necessity before she left for the arena. Awe and pride swelled in his chest at the thought of his woman embarking on her Olympic journey, playing the sport they both loved. The sport that brought them together.
Desire swelled other parts of him, because Mother those long legs and that perky ass in those yoga pants… there weren’t many things sexier.
Sneaking up behind her, Azriel slid his hands over her stomach and pressed his lips to the crook of her neck.
”Make sure you pack my favorite teeny, tiny shorts,” he murmured against the freckled velvet of her skin. When the redhead snorted, he pulled her into him, letting her feel his lust against the spectacular curve of her rear.
“You’re such a man,” she groaned, even as she reached back to sink her fingers into his hair. Azriel hissed a curse as his cock twitched against her, growing impossibly harder.
”I didn’t hear you complaining about my manhood last night,” he answered, sliding his tongue slowly up the path of her pulse. “Or this morning.” He recalled the way her ocean eyes had twinkled with mischief when she’d shared with him that the Olympic village had been outfitted with “anti-sex” beds made of cardboard. It was a challenge that they had accepted with the utmost enthusiasm.
They’d debunked the myth of the beds’ longevity the first night.
Thoroughly.
But, just in case, they’d tried out a few other surfaces in the apartment.
One could never be too prepared.
”Also,” she grumbled, ignoring his prodding, “I’ll get my uniform in the locker room. So, assuming the managers are on top of things, you don’t have to worry about me not having my teeny tiny shorts.”
He hummed in her ear, the purr rumbling in his chest like a sated little kitten. “Send me a picture?”
”Azriel! Behave!” she squealed as his embrace tightened further.
”What?” he pouted, sliding his hands to her hips so he could turn her around. Just as he’d suspected, her cheeks were a delicious pink and her eyes sparkled with mirth. Unable to stop himself, he leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “If I can’t get you into the sand so I can watch you play volleyball in a bikini, then I think the least you could do for your poor boyfriend is send a picture of you in your sexy little shorts.”
Gwyn mirrored his pout, pushing out her perfect lips, as she patted his cheek. “You poor baby,” she crooned. “You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in those scraps of spandex.”
”But baaabyyyyyy—“
”And you know my ass would be hanging out the entire time. I’d have a permanent wedgie.”
Azriel moved his hands, cupping her generous behind and giving her a playful squeeze. “I do know that. Why do you think I want you to do it?” he teased.
Gwyn scowled, her freckles bunching adorably at the bridge of her nose and the corners of her eyes. Then she made a show of pushing away from him and escaping his hold with a huff, turning back to her gym bag to zip it closed.
”And you also know,” she continued, lifting the strap over her head and onto her shoulder, “that everyone else would also get to see my ass hanging out of my suit and any other probable wardrobe malfunction those suits promise.”
It was Azriel’s turn to make a face as she sauntered smugly past him, her knuckles brushing over his as lightly as butterfly wings. In one graceful move he turned, grabbed her wrist, and spun her long, lithe body back into his arms. His mouth was on hers in the next instant, his tongue piercing her surprised gasp.
”Nevermind,” he breathed between kisses. “I love that you play indoor volleyball with your tiny shorts and your long sleeves.” Gwyn’s answering giggle was like music against his lips and tasted like strawberries and sunlight. With a final lingering pull on her bottom lip, he leaned his forehead against hers and stared into her beautiful eyes.
”Good luck today, little bird.” He’d called her that the first time he heard her singing in his kitchen, brewing coffee after the first night they’d stayed together. It had been one of the most enchanting sounds he’d ever heard, like the birds chirping to herald in a new dawn. “You’re going to be amazing. I can’t wait to hear all about it tonight.”
One of the first things about Gwyn that Azriel had fallen in love with was the way her genuine smile lit up her entire face, how you could see the truth of it in her eyes. And the grin she gave him then was one of the most radiant he’d ever been given.
”You, too, Az. Just be your incredibly talented self and you’ll do just fine.” She kissed the corner of his mouth and then leaned in to whisper into his ear, branding him with the heat of her breath. “And when we get back, you can peel off my teeny tiny shorts and have your wicked way with me.”
Azriel was still trying to breathe when the door clicked shut, his arousal jutting obscenely beneath his towel. With a curse and a prayer of thanks for the spitfire of a woman who had claimed him, he stalked to the bathroom to take care of the situation, thinking of all the delectable things he had to look forward to at the end of the day.