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“There is no easy way to say this,” Cassian said gruffly, his dark hair clinging to his sweaty skin. He had one arm heavy over Elain’s shoulder and the other over Rhys as all three huddled together. “But we’re losing.”
“How is that hard to say when you have to say it every year?” Rhys grumbled as he leaned closer to them — His black hair pushed back off of his face, and his violet eyes constantly glancing towards Feyre, who was in her own huddle with Azriel and Nesta.
Elain felt slightly dwarfed by Cassian and Rhys, who were bending at the waist to get to her level, and she bit her lip to keep herself from smiling.
It was very obvious why they lost almost every single year.
Cassian, shirtless as usual, was constantly peacocking for Nesta — and Nesta would intentionally distract him and use Cassian’s attraction to her to her advantage, which was very effective. And Rhys, well, Rhys used every excuse to touch Feyre. Ever since they had gotten together Feyre and Rhys were the most affectionate couple that Elain had ever seen. So affectionate that they would both forget that they were in the middle of a game and Elain would look down field and catch them locking lips as Azriel grabbed the ball from Rhys.
Elain wasn’t completely sure if Feyre was getting lost in her boyfriend, or if she was also using his adoration to her advantage. Either way, Elain was happy for Feyre. Her sister had spun into a depression from her last boyfriend, Tamlin, and Rhysand was there to help her through it. For whatever reason, Rhys was the only one who was able to reach her.
And then there was the obvious reason as to why the other team was winning.
Azriel.
Elain wasn’t exactly sure how he did it, but she was certain he was responsible for their success. Yes, Nesta and Feyre were both physically fit and active, but he was the one coming up with all of their trick plays, his eyes were constantly watching their team to discover any weaknesses, and he was the one who stood their quietly while Nesta and Feyre would be gloating at the end of their game — Even though Azriel was always quiet, she could feel the pride radiating off of him after a win, somehow his smirk was louder than both Feyre and Nesta combined.
Cassian played every sport known to man, and every year he grew more frustrated when the other team would win their family's football tournament. Yes, their team could crank out a few wins every year, but it was always Azriel’s team that won the tournament.
“Maybe,” Elain said, drawing the attention from both Cassian and Rhys. “You can throw it to me, since they won’t be expecting it?”
Elain didn’t really care about winning, but it was obvious that Cassian and Rys both did. She enjoyed playing it, and watching the game on tv, but she was mostly here to spend time with her friends and family. She wasn’t super active or coordinated, so Cass and Rhys mostly used her to get in Azriel’s way and slow him down.
They knew she was his weakness. Even though Elain didn’t quite understand it.
Azriel had no qualms about tackling Cassian and Rhys, and all three boys would be beaten up and achy by the end of the game, and even Feyre and Nesta would be sore from Rhys and Cassian’s attention, but Azriel was always gentler with her. He would place his large hands on her shoulders or waist to move her out of the way, and if he had to tackle her it was in a way that almost always had him falling on the ground first and then swiftly rolling her off of him so they could both scurry away like nothing happened.
Feyre smiled when she saw it, and she would playfully nudge Elain in the ribs which caused Elain to roll her eyes. Her sister seemed to think it was because Azriel had a crush on her, and Elain would remind Feyre that Azriel was a gentleman, to which Feyre would say, “That’s not what I heard,” and then they would both blush and drop the conversation all together.
Cassian and Rhys both looked at her, and Elain smiled broadly at them.
“I promise I know how to catch a ball.” Elain said, which caused both them to grin.
Cassian nodded his head with a wide smile and said, “Alright, Lainy,” His big hand squeezed her shoulder as he said her name. “Will go long, right down to the end zone by the tree. And Rhys, you’re going to throw her the ball after pump faking it to me. Lainy, you go right down the center and I’ll go left.”
They all nodded in agreement.
“You losers ready?” Nesta shouted from her side of the field. Elain could see a bit of bike shorts peeking out from the sweatshirt Cassian took off and handed to her the second Nesta said she was cold. Her hair was loose and wild and somehow looked incredibly chic on her.
Feyre was standing next to Nesta, excitedly shifting her weight from side to side without lifting her feet. She was dressed in yoga pants and a cropped hoodie with her brown hair braided down her back.
She wondered how her sisters looks so good in athletic wear — not that Elain looked bad, per say, but the cropped t-shirt she was wearing stretched around her boobs in a way that Elain tried to ignore, and her yoga pants clung to all of her curves in a way that Elain quite liked except for when it came to her hip dips.
She envied her sisters just a bit for their lean limbs and long statures because they made the most casual outfits seem effortlessly cool and put together, whereas on Elain she either looked frumpy or overly sexed up.
Elain wished she looked frumpy today.
“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian said as he grinned wolfishly at Nesta. “Just line up.”
Cassian crouched with one hand one the football, prepared to send it back to Rhys who was standing behind him.
Elain was more than aware of Azriel lining up in front of her, and she took great effort to keep her eyes averted.
Azriel had presence — even when he would just stand quietly with his arms crossed, Elain could feel him.
“Good luck.” Azriel said softly, and Elain’s eyes shot to his.
He was already looking at her, his hazel eyes intense as they both ignored the calls that were being shouted to their right.
Eventually, Elain snapped out of it and ran when she was supposed to. Right down the center and Cassian broke right, and Elain ran with her eyes focused on Rhysand, her hands prepped to catch the ball and cradle it to her chest. Her short legs put a small amount of distance between herself and Azriel…and then they put a greater amount of distance between them…and then she had crossed into the end zone while Azriel reached his fingers out to grab for her.
She could hear Cassian and Rhys hollering and celebrating from downfield, but she let the football slip from her fingers as she turned to face Azriel.
Hints of dimples appeared on his face as he congratulated her.
“You did that on purpose.” Elain said as she glared at Azriel, her arms crossed over her chest, and she ignored the way it made her breasts strained against her shirt. Azriel, ever the gentleman, ignored it as well.
“I don’t know what you mean.” He said, placing his hands on his trim hips.
A blush scorched her cheeks — He was really going to make her say it outloud. Cassian and Rhys were too far down field to hear their conversation, and they were too busy celebrating to care. Feyre and Nesta stood next to them rolling their eyes.
“You could have tackled me, and you didn’t,” She said in a low, furious voice. “You let me have that touchdown,” Azriel’s face remained impassive, but something shifted between them. “And you never,” Elain bit her lip. “You always go easy on me…am I that bad?”
“Of course not,” Azriel said quickly, and Elain raised her eyebrow and he unintentionally confirmed what she had said. He sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair, the dark curls falling against his forehead as he looked at her. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.”
“And you know what I’m thinking?” Elain asked, her voice raising just a bit. She continued before Azriel had the chance to respond. “Your brothers don’t go easy on my sisters, so I don’t understand why you treat me with kid gloves… I know I’m not the best, but you don’t have to go easy on me.”
Her gaze was locked on the ground, onto the large pile of leaves that Cassian had raked up for them earlier in the week.
“Fine,” Azriel said in a low voice, and he leaned forward just a bit, forcing Elain to meet his eyes. “I won’t hold back anymore, Elain.” The way he said her name caused her to hear thunder.
Azriel walked away before she could respond, and Elain was left feeling breathless and slightly threatened as she bent to pick up the football.
It turned out Azriel had been holding back more than she had thought, or maybe he was just doing it to torment her, but now Azriel was always on her. His hands gripping her waist as he moved her out of the way, as if she was a ragdoll he had to move out of his way…and his grip, it was different. Before his hands dropped away before Elain could register his light touch, but now — now Azriel was using his hands to get her attention.
His hands were heavy and rough on her form, as if he was no longer afraid to touch her.
His hands lingered and gripped in a way that caused her blood to sing as it rushed through her, and Eain wondered if he even knew about her body’s reaction to his touch. She was sure the soft gasps that escaped her whenever he touched her gave her away, but his face betrayed nothing.
And now he tackled.
Not the way he tackled her before, when he ensured that his body cushioned hers as they fell, and when he would untangle them as soon as they landed. Now, Elain landed on her back with Azriel’s body on top of hers, pressing her body into the cold ground.
And even though the ground was solid and cold beneath her and the air chilly around them, Elain felt unbearably hot every time they fell together.
And he didn’t jump away as soon as they landed, no, he made sure that Elain felt him. Felt the hard planes of his muscles, felt his breath on her sweat dampened skin, and felt the weight of his knowing eyes. And once he finally pushed away from her to stand again, Azriel would extend an outstretched hand to her as an offering, and Elain felt how perfectly her small hand felt in his rough palms.
He was on her. Constantly. So much so that everyone else started to notice.
Her sisters start shooting her knowing smirks, and Rhysand gave Azriel a warning look — one that had more meaning than Elain could decipher — and Cassian’s mood turned a little sour, and Elain didn’t know exactly why…it could be because Azriel’s newfound attention made it even harder for them to score, but every time Azriel had Elain on her back beneath him Cassian grew a little more bitter and a little more impatient.
“Do you guys have any ideas?” Cassian grumbled the next time they formed a huddle. This one was more tense than the others, Cassian’s heavy arm wasn’t over her shoulder, and Rhysand wasn’t even nothing to hide the love struck look he was shooting Feyre.
Elain chewed on her lip thoughtfully before raising her eyes to Cassian’s sullen face.
“I have any idea…”
Elain faced Azriel, her eyes trained on his face as Nesta prepared to hike the ball to Feyre.
As soon as the snap happened Elain launched herself at Azriel. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms went to his neck, and it was really a leap of faith because she had no guarantee that he would catch her, but Elain decided something were worth the risk.
Azriel didn’t even hesitate to catch her. Elain wasn’t even certain he thought about it, but he reacted. His hands landed underneath her bum, and while he took a step back to catch himself, he didn’t let them fall. And he didn’t drop her. Despite the movement coming from their brothers and sisters, their attention didn’t move from one another.
Their breaths merged into a tiny cloud between them, and their eyes were a bridge of connection between them.
“I like this new strategy.” Azriel whispered, pressing them closer together which caused Elain to gasp.
“I thought it would surprise you,” Elain said, leaning forward to press her forehead against his… she had never really thought of Azriel in this way…as someone she would be touching, as someone she would let touch her. “Did it work?”
Elain could hear his breath catching in his throat.
She has always thought that Azriel was exceptionally handsome, the kind of handsome that was almost painful because it didn’t seem real, the kind of handsome she would see in movies and magazines — and Elain had always quietly admired him like she would a piece of art.
“In the best way.” Azriel said, his golden eyes dropping to her lips.
Elain was vaguely aware of cheeks coming from down the yard, and she thought that her sisters had scored the winning touchdown, but the only thing she knew was how perfect she felt in Azriel’s arms.