Day 2: Caught | Lucien x Reader
word count: 2.9k
author’s note: im imagining this to take place pre-feyre, pre-amar*ntha, pre- all that mess, just some good ol’ tam and luc living together, but now also poof, reader has been dropped in too :)
✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦
You lay sprawled across his bed, your fingers clutching the soft, forest-green sheets, now rumpled from your restless movements. The pale green silk of your nightgown clings to your body, the hem pushed high on your thighs, its delicate straps slipping off your shoulders. You woke to a dull ache in your core, so intense, it was impossible to ignore. All you can do is breathe him in—the scent of fresh rain, wildflowers, and something deeper, warmer, like cinnamon and a glowing fire, still clinging to the pillow your face is pressed against.
Your hair spills across the sheets, sliding against the silk as your body moves against the bed. Each shift sends the scent of him flooding your senses, that intoxicating blend of spring and autumn, of something both wild and steady. The sheets slide beneath you as you arch your back, thighs squeezing together, a quiet moan escaping as your body hums with need. His presence fills the space, even in his absence, the smell of him wrapping around you, igniting that low heat inside you as you grip the pillow tighter, chasing his comfort, the desire only growing stronger.
Your hand slips between your legs, fingers pressing into the slick heat there, but it’s not enough — not like he would be. You close your eyes, trying to imagine his long, slender fingers taking over, or better yet, the stretch of his cock, thick and perfect. How he’d groan into your neck, pull you closer, as his hands roamed your body with the confidence of someone who had memorized every inch of your skin. The heat of his mouth pressing against your throat, his breath hot and uneven as he whispered filthy promises against your ear. How he’d guide your hips with those strong hands, each movement deliberate, making you gasp, making you arch into him. How his tongue would glide over the sensitive skin of your chest, down your stomach, and lower still, until you were trembling beneath him, completely at his mercy. You imagine the sharp pull of his teeth against your skin, the way he’d murmur your name like a prayer, while his body claimed yours.
But no matter how hard you try, it’s not enough. A frustrated whimper escapes your lips as you move against the sheets, the scent of him swirling around you — earth and wildflowers, cinnamon and fire — but it only makes the ache worse. He’s gone to the Dawn Court, handling whatever emissary business it was this time, and even if he were here…
You bite your lip at the thought, your heart racing. You’d sooner die than let him see you like this, splayed across his bed, depraved and desperate, soaking his sheets with your need. Knowing you’re touching yourself in the very space he sleeps, imagining what it would feel like to have him here, only intensifies your arousal. Your fingers aren’t enough, no matter how you move them, no matter how deep you push them in. It’s a cruel tease.
You let out a frustrated sigh, pushing the pillow tighter against your face. The room feels hotter, the scent of him clinging to you even more, as if it’s teasing you with the very thing you can’t have. Suddenly, you hear the distant sound of the door opening, a soft creak that freezes you in place. Your eyes fly open, your breath catching in your throat. Fuck.
You’d thought Lucien wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. But now, the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching grows louder, and your stomach drops. You don’t have time to do anything other than pull a sheet over yourself. The door swings open, and there he stands, broad shoulders filling the frame, his coat hanging loosely off his muscular form. His eyes widen for a split second before narrowing slightly, a flicker of something you can’t quite place crossing his features. His hand lingers on the door handle like he’s unsure whether to move closer or stay where he is. He takes in your disheveled form, the tangled sheets, and the deep flush on your face.
“I said I’d be back today,” he says. His voice is a low rumble, caught between amusement and shock. “Didn’t I?”
Your heart slams in your chest, but you keep your face neutral as you sit up, tugging the sheets higher in a feeble attempt to hide the obvious. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep,” you say, your voice shaky as you fumble for an excuse. “Something about my room felt off, I couldn’t get comfortable… I thought I’d try sleeping in another room. Yours was the closest.”
Lucien arches a brow, lips quirking in a way that sends a new wave of heat rushing through your already flushed body. He steps closer, slow and deliberate, arms folding across his chest as he leans against the doorframe. “In my bed, huh?” His voice is teasing, laced with amusement, but there’s a sharpness to his gaze. “Are you sure that’s all it was? Just a bad night’s sleep?”
You swallow, trying to hold his gaze, but the weight of it makes your skin prickle with embarrassment. “Yes. I—I told you, I couldn’t sleep. That’s all.”
Lucien chuckles, low and quiet, his gaze never leaving yours as he comes closer. “Come on, don’t insult me. Do you think I can’t tell when you’re lying? You’re in my bed, practically naked, and you want me to believe this was about a restless night?”
“I—” you start, scrambling for something, anything, but your mind is blank.
He shakes his head, taking another step forward, close enough now that you can practically feel the warmth radiating off him. His smirk deepens, eyes flicking down to the sheets that are still clutched in your fists. “You sure you want to play dumb?” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because I could smell what you were doing from the bottom of the stairs.”
Your breath catches, the heat rising to your face so intensely you think you might melt into the bed. There’s no point in denying it now. He knows. He’s known from the second he walked in. Your stomach flips, the embarrassment scorching through your body as you grip the sheets even tighter. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out—there’s nothing to say. Lucien’s gaze, sharp and unrelenting, pins you in place, the weight of his words sinking in deeper with every second that passes.
“Lost for words now?” he teases, his voice rich with amusement as he sits on the edge of the bed, dangerously close to you. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to walk in on this—figured that the mouthwatering smell of honey and lavender may have floated over from your room down the hall. Like it usually does. But I’ve got to say, it’s a rather… interesting welcome home.”
You can’t look at him, the humiliation is too much. The heat between your legs still lingers, your skin prickling with the aftershock of what you’d been doing before he walked in. He shifts a bit closer but doesn’t touch you. Instead, he just looks down at you with that same damn smirk.
“You could’ve asked, you know,” he says, his voice almost too casual, like you weren’t just caught in the most vulnerable, humiliating moment of your life. “Instead of sneaking into my bed, imagining… whatever it was you were imagining.” His tone turns playful, eyes sparkling with mischief as he adds, “I think it’s a fair assumption you weren’t thinking about my work?”
Your breath hitches, and his grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Shamefully, that was something you’d gotten off to before; you had wandered into his office one day to ask if he’d seen Alis, but the sight of him leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on the desk, thin rectangular glasses perched on his nose as he scanned a thick stack of papers? That had you spiraling. Something about the way his fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest, so focused, so relaxed — it did things to you.
“Lucien, I—” you try to speak, but your throat is tight, words tangled in a mess of shame and something dangerously close to excitement.
“Come on, don’t be shy now,” he drawls, setting a hand down on your knee, his voice soft but laced with teasing. “You’ve already done the hard part. So, why don’t you tell me what you were really thinking about? Or”—he leans forward, his face inches from yours, voice a low murmur—“do I have to guess?”
Your heart pounds so hard it’s almost deafening, your entire body frozen beneath his touch. His hand is warm on your knee, his grip firm, but not forceful. As your eyes stay trained on his hand, you can feel him watching you, waiting for you to speak, but your mind is a mess of shame and panic. There’s no way you can tell him what you were really thinking, how far your fantasies had gone. You could barely admit it to yourself.
“I—I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to,” you stammer, voice barely above a whisper, trying to deflect, to say anything to distract him from the wet spot beneath you. If you stood up now, he’d see it—see how desperate you’d been, how completely lost in your own need.
Lucien’s lips quirk into a smirk, his fingers brushing lightly along your knee, his eyes never leaving yours. “Didn’t mean to? Then what were you doing in here?” He raises an eyebrow. “Seems like I will have to guess. Maybe there really is something ‘off’ with your room. Or…” he pauses, pretending to consider. His voice is too light, too playful, and you can feel him testing you, backing you into a corner. “Or,” he continues, tone teasing, “maybe you just needed a good book to help you fall asleep. Maybe I could’ve read you some of those reports you love so much.”
Your stomach twists, and you try to swallow down the panic rising in your throat. He’d known? How had he known? “Lucien, please—” you try again, desperate to stop him, but he just keeps going.
“Oh, I know,” he says, leaning even closer, his hand sliding an inch higher on your thigh. “You were thinking about me… cleaning my weapons, weren’t you? Really gets the blood pumping, watching me sharpen a blade.”
You choke on a breath, your face burning with embarrassment, but before you can even attempt another deflection, his voice drops lower — dark, sultry. “Or maybe… you were thinking about me spreading your legs,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, “and fucking you so good, so hard, that you’d be screaming my name, begging for more.”
Your breath catches, and you swear your heart stops. He says it so casually, so effortlessly, but the impact of his words crashes into you like a wave. Every muscle in your body tightens, the arousal flooding back in full force, and all you can do is stare up at him, utterly speechless.
Lucien’s smirk deepens, his hand sliding higher still, his thumb brushing the inside of your thigh. “Ah, is that it?” he whispers, his voice dark and dangerous in a way you’ve never heard before. “Am I getting warmer?”
Your eyes lock onto Lucien’s, heart racing as his hand continues its slow, tantalizing ascent up your thigh. You open your mouth, desperate to say something, anything to escape this torment, but your voice comes out as a ragged whisper. “I’m really sorry, Lucien. Let’s just forget this happened. I’ll leave, and we can pretend this never happened, okay?”
Lucien’s smirk doesn’t waver; if anything, it deepens. He doesn’t pull his hand away. Instead, his gaze grows even more intense, a dark glimmer in his eyes. “Oh, but I’m quite enjoying this game,” he says, his voice low and throaty, practically purring with anticipation. “Why would we want to stop now?”
He leans in so his lips brush your ear, his fingers now lightly grazing the lace at the hem of your nightgown. If he went any further, he’d know you weren’t wearing any underwear. “Let’s see,” he murmurs, the words rolling off his tongue like a caress. “Were you thinking about me tearing this little nightgown off you, baring your skin to me? Or maybe you imagined me bending you over this very bed, taking my time, making sure you felt every inch of me.”
You shiver at his words, your skin tingling with anticipation. His hand moves further up, the pressure growing firmer, more deliberate, as he rests it on your bare hip. “Perhaps you were wondering what it would feel like if I pushed myself deep inside you, what it would be like to clench around my cock, how I’d pleasure you over and over, until you’re gasping for breath, completely lost in it.”
Your breaths come quick and shallow, wondering how long he’s been able to read you so effortlessly. The intensity of his words and the heat of his touch make it impossible to think clearly. Every muscle in your body is tight, the arousal pooling between your legs overwhelming, but you can’t move, can’t escape his commanding presence. Lucien’s hand continues its exploration, his fingers lightly dragging over your abdomen.
“Tell me,” he demands softly, his voice almost a growl, “am I getting warmer?”
Your breath shakes, but you force yourself to look him in the eye, your voice steady despite the nerves curling in your stomach. “Yes... I was thinking about it,” you admit, a hint of defiance in your tone, trying to reclaim some of your dignity. “What would happen if you were here.”
He’s clearly pleased with your answer, his fingers dipping lower, to your inner thigh. “Good girl,” he mutters, his hand pressing into you more firmly. “That’s more like it. See how much easier it is when you’re honest?”
The sensation of his fingers, so close but not nearly enough, it makes it hard to suppress the whimper rising in your throat. You feel his touch growing bolder, testing the boundaries as his thumb lightly caresses your folds. “You’re soaked,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a knowing grin. “Even if you’d run off, if we’d agreed not to speak of this, this —” he pulls the sheets off of you in a fluid movement, exposing the incriminating evidence of your arousal on his bed, “this would have driven me mad.”
Your thighs clench, but he uses his other hand to spread them with ease. His fingers tease and explore as if they have all the time in the world. “I’d walk in and catch the faintest traces of honey and lavender, lingering in the air, teasing me. And later, in the bath, I’d find the scent still clinging to me. I’d wonder why I couldn’t stop thinking of you, why I felt the sudden need to ease the ache in my body.” His voice drops to a whisper as he adds, “It’d be most intense when I retired for the night, would make me wonder why I couldn’t fall asleep, why thoughts of you were so persistent, and why my dreams of you seemed so vivid…
“But you didn’t leave, did you?” The playfulness in his voice faded into something much darker. “No, you stayed right here. In my bed. Wanting me to know you’d been imagining what it’d feel like to have me inside you.”
You bite your lip, his words igniting a fire in you, as his fingers continue to tease. Lucien’s hand presses more insistently as if daring you to deny how much you want this. Your body reacts before your mind can catch up. You grab Lucien’s wrist, pushing his fingers harder against your aching core, the heat of your desperation overriding any sense of restraint. “Please,” you whisper, the word spilling out before you can stop it, your voice raw with need.
Lucien’s eyes flicker with surprise for just a moment, but something darker, more predatory, takes over. His fingers obey your silent demand, sliding his fingers up your center. “So impatient,” he murmurs, his voice thick with amusement. “I didn’t think you’d beg so quickly.”
Your breath shudders, hips instinctively bucking against his hand, chasing the friction you crave. “Shut up,” you gasp, clinging to what little dignity you have left, even as your body betrays you, pushing yourself against his fingers.
Lucien chuckles lowly. “Oh, I think you like it when I talk,” he purrs, his thumb brushing over your clit in a slow, torturous circle. “Admit it — you’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?”
You bite your lip, trying to hold back a moan, but his fingers press deeper, sliding into you with ease, and you’re helpless to stop the sound that escapes your throat. “You’ve imagined it,” he continues, his tone turning softer. “How I’d touch you, how I’d make you come.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, guiding you to lie back on the bed. Your head falls back against the pillow, your fingers curling into the sheets as he pumps into you, his long, clever fingers moving with precision, bringing you closer. But it’s his words that drive you wild, that pull you under.
nsfw (18+). includes aphrodisiacs, dry humping, rubbing cock over panties, possessive!caleb, caleb is gentle at first until you piss him off, this is basically ‘testing caleb's patience: the fic’, unprotected sex, creampie, i have to mention that caleb is possessive twice because caleb says some freaky stuff, sappy confession during sex, happy (horny) ending <3 likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!
Caleb doesn't accept love letters and chocolates whenever Valentine's Day comes along. However, girls directly stuff them into his bag without his knowledge sometimes, and you take it upon yourself to eat the sweets because Caleb would just throw it straight to the trash otherwise.
“It's a waste,” you'd always say. “You might not like them back, but they still made the effort to make chocolate for you.”
And then Caleb would shake his head, frowning, “Though most of them mean well, sometimes they put weird stuff in the food. So if I were you, I'd spit out that cupcake, pipsqueak.”
You usually don't heed his warnings—Caleb's always been kind of an overthinker. Now, though, you regret not listening to him as an unfamiliar heat spreads across your body, your core throbbing as you feel yourself dripping in your panties.
...The panties that's rubbing against Caleb's crotch right now, soaking the fabric of his pants while you grind down on him. Caleb's expression looks like a mix of confusion, worry, and arousal, his hands hovering above your waist as if unsure where to touch you. “Nn— hey, what's gotten into you? Do you even know what you're doing right now?”
You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he nervously swallows, and you start feeling something poking you at your clothed core. Caleb sits up on the sofa where you pushed him down a while ago, grabbing your hands on his shoulders. “C'mon, tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”
You whimper, your body collapsing on top of his. He quickly scoops you up, one hand holding the back of your head, the other resting on your lower back, ensuring you're properly seated on his thighs.
“I... I feel weird,” you pant, clutching the front of his shirt. “I'm dizzy, and my body is hot all over. My...” you swallow down your embarrassment, “my pussy feels empty... Caleb, can't you help me? Please?”
Almost imperceptibly, his grip on you tightens by a fraction. He sighs, angling your head to make you look at him in the eye. Perhaps it's the trick of the light, but Caleb's face is a flustered pink. “I can't do that. You're going to regret it when you turn back to normal and get all weird about it.” He glances at the chocolates you ate on the table, brows furrowed. “Aphrodisiac chocolate... I should've known. Then you wouldn't have become like this...”
Your mind is in a daze. Your body feels unusually heavy, but your head feels like it's floating. Most of what he said is lost on you, and at this moment, the only thing you can focus on is that Caleb is looking at something else. You grab both of his cheeks, forcibly turning his attention to you. “Please help me, Caleb...” Clumsily, you lift up your hips, pressing your cunt against the tent in his pants. It glistens with your wetness, and Caleb can't help but groan when you rub the tip with your thumb. “It hurts... I need this inside me...”
Caleb has always adhered to your whims, but even he has his limits. He pinches your cheek, “I can't put it inside, idiot, I don't have a condom. I just have to make you cum, right?” He gestures for you to pick up the hem of your skirt, sucking in a breath when he sees how soaked you are. “Fuck....”
The entire crotch area is damp, and if he looks carefully, he can even see the faint shape of your clit. Curiously, he draws circles on it, breathing heavily when a fresh glob of slick stains your underwear. “That's hot...”
He pulls down his zipper, releasing his cock from his boxers. You gasp softly at the sight. He's long and thick, arching to a beautiful curve, colored almost red from the strain of holding back. He gives himself a few experimental pumps, moans coming from his mouth as he masturbates at the sight of you, holding up your own skirt to give him a perfect view of your wet panties, an innocent, frilly pair he can't wait to ruin.
He positions his cock to your folds, aiming at the spot your hole should be if not covered by your underwear. You both groan at the first slide, his pre-cum further soaking the fabric of your ruined panties. He wraps himself in his fist, teasing your clit as he pumps into his hand. More pearls of white spurt out of his tip. “Ah, fuck, that's good... so good...”
“Ah, ah, Caleb!”
You move your hips, moaning while he rubs himself against your cunt. The warmth of his cock is driving you crazy, and the added friction of Caleb rubbing your nipple through your clothes makes you even wetter than you already are. He's biting his lip, dazed eyes staring at your body appreciatively. “I'm taking this off, baby.”
He impatiently runs his hand through the buttons of your clothes, some of them popping off to clatter on the floor. “H-hey, I liked this shirt— haa...!”
“I'll buy you a new one,” he grunts, mouthing at one of your tits, sucking as if anything would come out. He unclasps your bra one-handed, throwing it over your shoulder. “These things are fucking annoying...”
Finally, he gets tired of rubbing you over your clothes. He lifts the side of your panties, sliding his cock inside to directly grind against your pussy. “Shit, that's more like it,” he moans loudly, your wetness gliding down his balls. “You feel so good.”
“Caleb, put it inside already,” you whine, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in your fists. “This isn't enough for you either, hnn, right...? Give me your cock, please...”
Caleb grits his teeth, holding your hips to stop you from dropping on his dick. “Didn't I tell you I don't have a condom?”
“I don't care!” you struggle in his hold. “Fuck me, c'mon... it hurts...! If you don't...”
You pant against his ear, knowing exactly what you're getting into, drugged or not, “...I'll ask Zayne to fuck me instead.”
The effect is instantaneous. He pulls out, replacing his cock with two fingers plunging inside you at once, hitting deep all the way inside. You choke, gasping out for breath as his hand doesn't stop, slick jetting out of your cunt with every push of his fingers. His clothes are getting soaked, but Caleb doesn't care about them at all, coldly glaring at your face twisted in pleasure.
“So you're telling me you'd be fine with just anyone?” He's chuckling, but he doesn't sound like he's happy. “Fuck. I should've just done this from the start, then.”
He grabs two of the chocolates, popping one in his mouth. When he finishes swallowing, he places the other one in his mouth again, but then he suddenly grabs your jaw. “Open your mouth, slut.”
He pulls you in for a kiss, mouths locking together. The chocolate melts from the heat, his tongue licking at yours as he's forcing you to swallow. He doesn't let you go until he's sure you've eaten all of it, drool dripping from the corner of your lips.
“We're not stopping until you learn I'm the only one who gets to see you like this,” he grunts, taking out his fingers and slathering your slick on his cock to make it wet. “I'm the only one who gets to call you mine.”
“Haa... haa...”
Clothes are strewn messily on Caleb's bedroom floor, the mattress squeaking with each thrust of his hips. You're on your back, one leg hooked over Caleb's shoulder, staring into space as you're fucked absolutely stupid.
“Fuck, I can't stop my hips....” Caleb's still fucking into you, hasn't stopped for the past hour. The effects of the aphrodisiac have probably passed after the first two rounds, but his cock shows no signs of softening after release. He cums another load into you, overflowing from your pussy to spread into his sheets. “Ah, hng, shit... Hey, I told you not to waste it.”
He pulls out, pressing his fingers inside your loose hole to fuck his cum back in. You make a sound of protest, already feeling full.
“Are you starting to regret what you said now?” He grabs the back of your thighs, pressing your legs next to your ears. “Too late for that, though.”
Caleb groans, sloshing his cum inside your cunt with his dick. You helplessly grab at the sheets, moaning brokenly. His pelvis rubs against your engorged clit on every snap of his hips, driving you to squirt on his abs again, his torso glistening with your mess.
“You're squirting again? How many times have you cum?” Caleb laughs meanly, sucking another possessive mark among the smattering of hickeys he's already left along your collarbones. “Nasty girl...”
He leans back, getting a better view of your body. There are traces of him everywhere, from the hickeys on your neck, his cum on your chest because you couldn't swallow everything he poured in your mouth, and the faint bite marks on your inner thighs when he paid the favor and ate you out.
He presses a kiss on your chest, staring at you with dark eyes. “If you didn't say that, I would've been patient with you. Fingered you loose before putting my cock inside, making sure you're comfortable... I would've helped you ride out the effects of the aphrodisiac and never speak of it again. After all, to you, I'm just family.” He nuzzles against your cheek, his voice taking on a darker tone. “But you just had to call out another guy's name, didn't you... Would've fucked him if it was him here, not me...”
Caleb thrusts back inside you roughly, fucking your cervix. “You can't do that, you know? You've always belonged to me. Every part of you is mine, so no one else can touch you.” He cups your cheek, devouring your cries of pleasure with his mouth. “Just me... it's only me, right? I'm the person most important to you, right? You said so... So why are you bringing up another guy?”
He's asking questions, but he doesn't let you answer any of them, kissing you so much you almost can't breathe.
“Even though I'm in front of you...” Kiss. “Even when I'm the only one who loves you this much...” Kiss, kiss. “You're still thinking of another person...” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “That's hardly fair when you're all I think about everyday.” Another sloppy kiss.
You weakly push his chest, breaking away from the kiss. “Wait, Caleb—”
He pins your wrist to the bed. “I'm not stopping.”
“I'm not telling you to stop, I'm telling you to liste— ahh, haa, hnn!” The cock still ramming up your walls makes it much more difficult to speak, hammering against the sweet spot that makes your toes curl. “Fuck, ah— Caleb, listen to me!”
He hums as he sucks another hickey on your skin. “I am.”
You don't have it in you to argue even when he clearly isn't, trembling at the pleasure. The hand holding your wrist travels upwards to intertwine your fingers together, grounding you back to reality.
“Caleb, I was just— I didn't mean what I said...” you stammer, trying your best to speak without getting distracted. “I, mmh....! W-wouldn't do this with anyone else... haa... I just said that so you'd fuck me— ah, ah!”
He scoffs, slowing his pace when he sees you being overwhelmed. “You're just making excuses to get me to stop.”
“I'm not, you dummy! I...” your brows pinch together, embarrassed to say it but you continue anyway, “Caleb, you're the one I think of when I touch myself... nn... And I know it's wrong, and you only think of me as someone you should take care of, but, I, haah, I like it when you kiss me, or when you hug me, and I— gh! I like it when you fuck me hard, too, just like this...”
You move your hand to cup Caleb's jaw, admiring his awestruck expression. He looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time.
“I'm not telling you to stop,” you repeat yourself firmly. “I just wanted to say I didn't mean that thing I said earlier, and if it's you, you can do whatever you want to me. Because I love you just like how you love me, Caleb.”
His hips come to a complete stop. “Say that again.”
“I love you, Caleb.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“Okay, you're really pushing it, it's embarrassing to sa— aah!”
He grabs your hip, pulling you back to his cock. He fucks you frantically, harsh groans leaving his lips, your name like a prayer. “Fuck... you love me? You love... me?” The words seem unfamiliar on his tongue, heartbreakingly quiet. You squeeze your connected hands.
“I love you, Caleb. I really, really love you, I've loved you a long time ago...” you tilt his chin, making him meet your gaze. “Now say it back.”
“I love you,” he says with certainty, as if it's a fact of the universe. “I love you so much.” He buries his head into your neck, sucking new marks. “I love you... fuck... I love you so badly, it hurts...”
His cock drives deeper, the wet slaps of skin deafening in the room. Cum dribbles out of your hole with his thrusts, and he swipes it up to smear it on your engorged clit. Rub, rub. Rub, rub.
“Shit, Caleb!” You wail, rutting to his finger. “Everything feels so good, ah, ah!”
“You feel so good, too, aw, fuuuck...” he's melting inside you, your warm walls clenching around him so tight, sucking him back in every time he pulls out. “Your pussy keeps sucking me back in...!”
“Ah, hnahh, ngh, yes, like that, ah! I'm cumming, cumming!”
His balls draw tight, his cock about to burst. “Fuck, shit!” he fucks in, in, in, until he's filled every space in your cunt, thumb frantically rubbing at your clit. Clear liquid soaks his cock, wetting his pelvis, and he follows you in your release, shooting ropes of milky cum deep inside your pussy. “Fuck, ah, take my cock, take my fucking cum all the way in, ohh— take it deep in your womb—”
He keeps cumming, and cumming, and cumming. “It won't stop,” he moans against your ear, watching your hole overflowing with his semen. “Your pussy feels too good, it's sucking me dry...”
“Caleb, shit, how are you still— ohh, fuuck...” you whine as the last spurts of semen hit your torso, Caleb having pulled out and pumping his dick to cover you in his cum.
Finally emptied, Caleb collapses on the spot beside you, running a hand through his hair. “I need a shower,” he mutters, feeling the stickiness on his body.
“We need a shower,” you correct him. “I probably won't be able to walk for the next few days, all thanks to you, so you better take responsibility and carry me everywhere.”
Caleb laughs, light and airy, nothing like the dark tone he's been speaking in earlier. He pulls you to his chest, pressing chaste kisses all over your face. “Anything for the girl I love.”
How could he when you come to him crying big crocodile tears, sobbing how no matter what you do you can’t seem to cum, how you think you must be broken, how no one would ever want such a hard-to-please woman in their bed.
As if he hasn’t spent years watching you, waiting for you, knowing damn well that the problem isn’t you.
So of course Caleb, being such a kind and thoughtful gege, has to prove you wrong, right?
He does. Over. And over. And over again. That is, until you’re crying in overstimulation, writhing away from his punishing thrusts, clawing against the sheets as you try to run from the pleasure-turned-pain.
Or, tried to.
“Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Where do you think you’re going?”
You’re running? No, no you can’t run away, not when he’s already spent his entire fucking life chasing you.
Caleb’s voice is teasing, raspy and sweet, but there’s nothing playful about the way his Evol surges to life with a mere crook of his finger, dragging you back along the mattress and pinning you down as he takes his sweet time crawling back to you.
Trapped, your breath hitches as you feel the weight of him settle over you, his intimidating frame caging you in, tracing featherlight kisses along your spine in such a stark contrast to how ruthlessly he was fucking you earlier. His hands roam, slow and deliberate, kneading your ass as he repositions himself behind you.
"If I let you go," he murmurs, "you promise not to run?"
Run? Why did you even want to run? You can’t remember now, not as you viciously nodding your head as much as is allowed under the control of his Evol, already arching your back into his touch as Caleb nips and marks your sticky inner thighs.
“Good girl.” The pressure disappears.
Immediately, Caleb replaces it, his entire body pressing you down before you can so much as take a proper breath. His arm snakes around your throat, flexing just enough to remind you who’s in control, the bulging, thick mass of his bicep choking you deliciously when you attempt to squirm or beg.
He’s got you in a headlock, the rest of his corded body pressing down atop you until your chest is squished to the mattress, ass pressed against Caleb’s pelvis, the combined pressure enough for you to be seeing stars. A drooling, overstimulated mess.
It doesn’t help that he’s practically panting like a dog in your ear, whining as he already begins thrusting himself back into your cunt, delirious moans of your name and filthy praises cooed right into your ear, words barely distinguishable with how hard he’s breathing.
“Aww p-poor thing.” Caleb pants, voice wrecked, whiny with need as he grinds himself against you. His pace is already brutal, his thrusts sharp and unforgiving, every desperate snap of his hips forcing a cry from your throat as his grip tightens, choking you deliciously every time you so much as try to squirm.“Can you be good for me? Be my sweet little girl and cum for daddy.”
It shouldn’t be hot, Caleb, your gege, calling himself daddy, it shouldn’t have you sobbing out an unintelligible plea as another orgasm builds, seizing up your body in tight, aching waves. And yet here you are, loosing your fucking mind at it.
“Please,” you gasp, voice muffled as you sink your teeth into his bicep, embarrassed by the desperate sound of your own voice. “Please, daddy.”
For the first time in thirty minutes, you feel Caleb stop.
He’s frozen entirely, dick hot and throbbing with need within you, each shaky breath hitting your ear as he pressed down closer, flattening, suffocating you into the mattress as you feel the growl come from his throat. You can hear the way his lips curl into a grin.
“You wanna say that again, princess?”
Whining, you try and arch your back further, wiggling your hips up as you try and bait Caleb into continuing, into giving you that release that was only just out of reach. But he wasn’t having any of that bratty attitude tonight.
“Behave.” Caleb’s arm tightens, and your vision swims. ”I asked you a question. You need daddy to—ah shit you tightened, dirty girl— fuck you nice and full, hmm? Fuck you stupid?”
A fresh wave of humiliation burns down your spine, but it doesn't matter. You’ll say whatever he wants if it means he moves, if it means he chokes you more, if it means he finally gives you what you need one more time.
“Yes, m’close, please daddy! Please—ah—let me cum one more time.”
Caleb just snaps.
His grip tightens instinctively. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make you feel it, enough to make your breath stutter, your body jolt like the sweet little thing you are under his grasp. His entire frame tenses above you, muscles coiling so tightly it’s like he’s holding himself together with sheer willpower alone. But it’s already slipping.
"Fucking," His voice breaks, dissolving into a strangled groan as he buries his face against your neck, breathing you in like a man starved. "Fuck that shouldn’t be so hot, it really shouldn’t—"
Like you haven't already wrecked him beyond repair.
Caleb’s Evol comes back full force, pushing you prone against the mattress so you can’t feel anything but him, the arm around your throat dropping so his hand can press against your belly instead, pinning you down as he fucks into you so deep, so hard, you swear you can feel him in your lungs. His other hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back just enough for his lips to smash onto yours, sloppy, desperate, sucking at your bottom lip as the two of you jolt with each thrust.
"You have no fucking idea," Caleb laughs against your lips, the words a feverish, choked-out confession, "how long I've wanted to do this to you."
It’s almost like he’s hammering that truth into you, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, the sound of skin on skin nearly drowned out by your own sobs of pleasure.
"Caleb—"
"Say it again," he demands, not even trying to keep his composure anymore. "Say it for me, princess. Say it like you mean it."
"Daddy—"
"Fuck."
Caleb really didn't need another kink, he really didn't need to imagine you calling him all these filthy things on top of every other sinful thing he's already imagined you doing. It must be divine punishment, because god was he into it.
Practically collapsing on top of you, Caleb's barely pulling out before grinding right back in as deep as he can get, like he can barely think to part from you even for a moment, like he needs to feel every twitch, every squeeze, every shudder of your overstimulated body. His hands roam wildly, equally greedy, kneading and groping every tender curve like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, like he’s claiming you in ways he’s never let himself before. And fuck, you’re close.
Caleb notices, of course he notices, nibbling the shell of your ear as the arm around your throat tightens, the other going right back to abusing your clit as you squirt all over him with a scream.
“Aw that’s it, keep cumming sweet thing.” Caleb’s voice is the only thing grounding you, your entire body, your vision trembling as you begin to lose consciousness. The only thing you can think of is Caleb. Caleb, Caleb, Caleb!
You don’t even realize you’re screaming his name over and over again as you squirt down both of your thighs, making a mess against the already ruined sweat-slicked sheets beneath the two of you. You’re so damn messy. He loves it.
Convulsing, walls fluttering around him like you’re made for him, a sweet temptation Caleb is so laughably weak against as he follows, humping against you like a mad dog as his breath shatters into desperate, shaky moans of your name, spilling inside you with a force that has you sobbing with pleasure.
“Oh, princess,” he rasped, his tongue tracing over the tear-streaked path down your cheek before pressing a soft, almost mocking kiss to your jaw. “Shh, it’s alright, don’t cry. Your gege is here, your daddy will take good care of you, promise.”
Rafayel ♱⋅ ── the desperate
You’re going to have to call in sick for the week.
Every year with the return of the tide, with the return of ebb-and-flow day, Rafayel becomes insatiable. You’ve barely been able to be able to escape Rafayel’s grasp for long enough to go to the bathroom, let alone escape enough from his insatiable fucking to walk well enough to fight.
It’s never been this bad. And it’s all your fault. Being back in your arms after eight hundred years, finally remembering the way your voice sounds when it says his name and the way you fit oh so perfectly in his arms. It’s borderline painful to spend even a minute in your absence. His very body violently rejects the notion of it as spasms of violent heat and need drives him right back into your arms again and again and again.
“Please, please let me fuck you. I can’t come like this, you know that.”
Rafayel’s voice is muffled against your thigh, breath hot as he presses a messy, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. His hands are clenched into the sheets beside him, trembling with the effort of keeping them off you, as you ordered. It’s the only rule you’ve given him tonight, and yet it’s breaking him.
"Rafayel," you warn, fingers buried between your thighs, working yourself open as his desperate, pleading gaze follows your every movement.
He whimpers, nodding frantically, his cock throbbing angrily where it rests against the mattress, one hand coming back to violently fist the swollen head as it leaks all over his palm and sheets. "I know, I know," his voice cracks as he drags his hand around its base, rutting into his own palm like it’s not enough, like it hasn’t been enough for hours now. "But please I—fuck—I can’t."
“You can.” You spread your legs wider, letting him see, letting him watch your fingers disappear into your fluttering cunt with a slick, wet sound that has his jaw going slack, his own hips grind into the bed helplessly. “I told you what would happen if you forgot to use a condom, again.”
Rafayel’s eyes plead up into yours, big fat tears slipping down his cheeks, his head shaking against your leg as he kisses the trembling flesh. "You don't understand," he sobs, nuzzling into the crook of your knee like he can smell the orgasm building inside you, like he can taste it on his tongue already. “I need- I need—”
"You need to learn control, Rafayel."
Your voice is less strict than you’d like it to be, already embarrassingly close considering all the times you’ve come earlier today. And the way Rafayel’s looking up at you, begging, pleading, is really not helping.
Tilting your hips slightly, you circle your clit in a way that makes your eyes roll back, making sure he sees the way your poor cunt flutters all empty, the way your body clenches, desperate for something more, something bigger.
Rafayel groans, his grip on himself tightening. Still, it’s useless, his Lemurian biology physically won’t let him cum unless it’s inside his pretty little mate, his cock swollen and weeping with how much he’s holding back, the pleasure that spikes through him now nothing but a cruel, agonizing echo of the real thing.
"My love," he chokes, head falling back against the mattress, his throat bobbing as he tries to breathe past the desperate hunger clawing at his insides. "My muse, my sweet darling, please. Taste you, touch you, anything, please!”
You hum, considering, rolling your hips against your own fingers as he moans, watching with wild, fevered eyes. "You wanna clean me up?"
"Yes."
The word is instant, sharp, like Rafayel’s been waiting for you to say it since the moment he first laid his hands on you tonight. Before you can even think of teasing or denying him any further, his grip snaps—both arms wrapping around your thighs, dragging you down the mattress in one swift, fluid motion.
"Rafayel—"
Too late.
His mouth is on you before you can protest, his tongue filthy as he sucks at your clit, licking up everything you’ve given yourself, drinking in the mess between your thighs like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. Slapping your own hands away, Rafayel pauses briefly to suck them clean before diving right back into the source, moaning into your cunt, making your body seize with another orgasm before you can even process the first.
"Fuck, fuck," Your hands fly to his hair, gripping hard, but it only makes him groan, rutting against the mattress, his own pleasure reigniting just from the taste of you.
You try to pull away, squirming and kicking at Rafayel’s sides, his shoulders, but he doesn't even budge. His arms lock tight around your hips, keeping you there, keeping you spread for him as he eats you out like a man possessed.
And then he's begging again, voice wrecked, slurred with delirious pleasure, licking at your clit between words as though he really can’t get enough. “Please, please let me fuck you. I promise, mhm, promise I won’t cum inside you again.”
Rafayel is still begging for permission even as he manhandles you beneath him, hesitantly parting with your cunt as he kisses up your stomach, sucking at one of your breasts as you feel the nudge of his cock against your entrance before you can even think. “Promise I’ll be good. I’ll be such a good boy.”
Fuck, you really are weak against him.
Using the last of your strength, you flip the both of you around, grinding down against his cock as you feel it throb, violently jumping between your thighs, the sloppy, wet sound of each movement sending shivers down both your spines. Poor thing is already ruined, body extra sensitive due to his heat, cock swollen and leaking as it begs to be inside you.
"You promise?" Your voice is a whisper, teasing, as you drag your soaked folds along the length of him, feeling him tremble beneath you.
Rafayel nods frantically, breath hitching, hands twitching at his sides like he wants to grab you, wants to force you down onto him, but he knows better. Knows he wouldn’t survive the punishment. His lips are red, glossy with your slick, parted around little choked-off whimpers as he fights against the desperate urge to rut up into you.
"I promise," he gasps, "Please, I’ll be good, I swear, I’ll be so good for you.”
You hum, dragging your fingertips down his chest, nails scraping lightly over sweat-slicked skin, enjoying the way his breath shudders at the contact. The pain. "You say that, but you've already come inside me, what, three times now?"
You rock your hips again, coating his cock in your arousal, watching the way his abs twitch with the effort of keeping still. Gods, he’s so pretty like this, neglected and crying underneath you, muscles strained and glistening with sweat and cum, watercolor eyes bleary as his tears collect on the mattress as dusky pink pearls. The same rosy shade of blush that burns across his cheeks, ears, and throbbing tip of his swollen cock.
“That warrants punishment, don’t you think?”
Rafayel all but whines at that, head tilting back against the pillow, his throat bobbing as he tries to breathe, tries to hold on to the last fragile thread of control he has left. "I—I won't this time, I swear, I’ll be good, I just need you."
"You need me?" You lean down, pressing your lips just below his ear, letting your voice drop to a sinful whisper. "Or do you just need to fuck something, sweetheart?"
"You." Rafayel’s answer is immediate, desperate, his hands finally snapping up to grip your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh. "It’s always you. Only you, my mate."
The admission makes your stomach tighten, heat pooling low as you let yourself sink down, just enough for the swollen head of his cock to catch at your entrance. Rafayel jerks, eyes wide, mouth dropping open around a silent moan, his grip on you tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
"Oh, fuck."
"You need me, you need your mate?" You tease, rolling your hips, letting him feel the wet heat of you without giving him what he really needs.
"Yes, please, please, please—"
And then, because you’re cruel, because you love seeing him like this, you lift yourself off him entirely.
Rafayel practically cries at that, and you let him plead, let him beg, until his whole body is shaking with the need to be inside you, until his voice is raw and wrecked from crying out your name. Then, finally, finally, you sink down, dropping the entirety of your weight onto him as you both moan at the sudden pressure as your ass smacks his pelvis with a lewd slap.
Rafayel’s body aches up off the mattress, a wrecked, strangled moan tearing from his throat as his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. His head tilts back, chest heaving, eyes glassy and unfocused, dilated almost like a cat’s, as if the feeling of being inside you after so long is too much for his mind to comprehend.
"Fucking finally."
You barely have a moment to adjust before Rafayel thrusts.
Whatever fragile restraint he had is gone, obliterated the second your walls squeeze around him. His hips jerk up in a desperate, instinctual rut, shoving himself deeper, harder, until the thick length of him is buried to the hilt inside you, and then pulled all the way out before ramming back in again. You choke on a gasp, nails digging into his chest, but he doesn’t even seem to register the pain.
"More." Some inhumane warble distorts Rafayel’s voice, nails turning clawed and sharp as he thrusts up into you with more strength than any human should possess. “Perfect, perfect mate.”
Your head spins, the force of each snap of his hips making your whole body jolt. His desperation is relentless, dragging you closer to the edge far too fast, too intense, gripping onto his shoulders just to keep you from falling over as your thighs begin trembling once again.
"Rafayel—Raf, slow down!"
"No," he whimpers, shaking his head wildly, hands tightening on your waist as if letting go isn’t an option. "No, please, sorry, need this." Rafayel’s voice breaks into a sort of trill, something like whalesong, eyes fluttering shut as he drives himself up into you, starved for more, cock throbbing desperately inside you. "Don’t leave me again, please.”
Your heart clenches. "I’m here," you whisper, leaning down, pressing your forehead to his as your body moves with his, rolling your hips as you try to stay in time with his brutal pace. "I’m right here, Rafayel."
He moans, high and broken, clutching you so tightly against him, feeling every inch of you pressed into his skin. His pace turns frantic, sloppy, body shaking beneath you as pleasure racks through him in violent waves. He’s close, but he won’t let himself fall over the edge alone.
"Come with me," he begs, his lips brushing over yours as he pleads for it. "Please.”
And you do.
The orgasm slams through you like a tidal wave, stealing every breath from your lungs as your entire body clenches around him. Rafayel keens, hips jerking wildly as he follows, his cock pulsing inside you as he fucks his cum deep inside you yet again, stuffing you full until you’re both shaking with overstimulation.
But it still doesn’t stop.
Rafayel can’t stop.
Even as his body trembles beneath you, even as his whimpers turn into sobs, he keeps moving, his hips rolling into you in slow, messy grinds. His cock twitches inside your still-clenching walls, sending violent aftershocks through you both.
"Mhh sorry," he moans, lips dragging down your throat, sucking bruises into your skin as if marking you will somehow keep you tethered to him. "Did it again, can’t help it. Pussy feels so nice, wants me too, always so desperate for me. Made to worship me."
You let out a wrecked, exhausted laugh, trying to lift yourself off of him, but his arms snap tight around your waist, keeping you anchored to him.
"No," he pleads, voice cracking, nuzzling into your neck as he breathes in your scent. "No, please, just—just a little more. You owe it to me for being so mean before."
Your head falls into the crook of his neck as yet another orgasm crashes through you, ripping a moan from your throat. Rafayel shudders, gasping against your skin, completely gone, his hips jerking helplessly, overstimulated beyond the point of caring. His body is moving on instinct now, neither of you fully conscious as he keeps moving on his own, chasing another high even as it breaks him.
"Fuck, Raf...”
"One more," he’s licking into your mouth, sucking your bottom lip, too tired and uncoordinated to properly kiss you. "One more, one more."
You don’t even know how many times you’ve both come. The world is a haze of heat and pleasure, of wet, messy grinds and deep, instinctual thrusts, of Rafayel’s loud, unashamed moans directly in your ear between kisses, of the desperate way he clings to you, unable to bear even a second, an inch of separation.
You ride him through another, and another, until your body finally gives out, completely limp against his chest, your limbs trembling too hard to keep yourself upright any longer. Rafayel follows soon after, his movements slowing, stuttering, until he’s finally, finally still beneath you, panting raggedly, body wracked with aftershocks.
The room is finally silent except for your heavy breathing, the two of you floating between sleep and reality for what seems like an eternity.
"I think I might die," Rafayel croaks, voice hoarse.
You huff a weak, breathless laugh as you grumble into his shoulder. "Good, you stupid horny fish."
Sylus ♱⋅ ── the sweetheart (liar)
You’re going insane.
Sylus promised he would finally fuck you, promised he’d finally give you what you’ve practically been begging him for all week. “Just the tip,” you’d beg, whining into his neck or suckling gently against his fingers in attempts to bait him, “Please, Sy, just the tip and I’ll stop asking.”
Technically speaking, he’s held up his end of the deal. After all, you’ve already cum four times. Not that it’s ever stopped you from wanting more.
“What’s this? Are you even listening to me, sweetie?” Something jerks your head up, and you’re snapped out of your thoughts at the same time as Sylus grinds forward, humming as he pulls you closer on his lap, your thighs spread wide atop of his. “Tch, first all that whining and now you’re not even paying attention to me. I’m hurt, kitten.”
You shake your head as best you can with his thumb and forefinger still squishing your cheeks, tears from the sheer overstimulation blurring your vision as you bury your face into Sylus’s chest, chasing the mere friction.
The fat head of his cock slips right back out of your cunt, tapping once, twice, on your swollen clit before grinding back in with a lewd pop. One inch, two, just enough for you to feel the delicious stretch of the tip of his cock, before Sylus lifts you up higher on his lap, pulling out as the torture begins all over again.
You swear you can take more. It doesn’t matter than everytime Sylus lines up his cock it hits your bellybutton from the outside, it doesn’t matter that your hands can barely wrap around his base, it doesn’t matter that even when you suck him off your jaw throbs and he can barely thrust it in halfway without you gagging.
“Sylus, please, please just—” you whine, rutting your hips down to no avail as his firm hands render you immobile. Watching you squirm with thinly veiled amusement. “Just fuck me already!”
Your breath comes out in short, stuttered gasps, frustration bubbling over into pitiful little sobs against Sylus’s skin. He shushes you, rubbing slow, teasing circles into your hips as if he’s offering you comfort. But you know better. The bastard lives for this, the way your body trembles, how your cunt clenches down hard every time he pulls out, desperate for more than what he’s giving.
“Please.” A broken cry rips from your throat as he nudges forward again, pushing the tip back inside like he hasn’t already driven you half-mad. “I can take it. Ah, I swear, I can take it.”
And yet, he’s still so fucking mean.
“Hmm,” Sylus’s voice drips with amusement, low and tinged with laughter as his lips graze the shell of your ear as though lost in thought. “No.”
You whine, digging your nails into Sylus’s back with more force than necessary as you hiss out curses, “Cruel, stubborn, self-assured asshole. I told you I can take it Syl—ah!”
Sylus pushes himself upward, roughly fucking his swollen tip against you, ramming that delicious spot within you as your curses dissolve into mindless babbles of his name, another orgasm ripping through you as you try and match Sylus’s rhythm by grinding yourself on the rest of his cock.
“That’s it,” He hums, dragging his tongue along your pulse, relishing the way it hammers beneath his mouth. He can feel how fast it beats, erratic and needy, the way your breath catches in your throat. “You’re gonna be good and take what I give you. Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re already fucked stupid. And I’ve barely even given you anything, kitten.”
It’s humiliating how right he is.
Your thighs tremble violently on either side of his, the ache in your muscles a dull, distant thing compared to the unbearable need twisting in your core. Desperate, you try to grind down, to force him deeper, to make him give you what you need. But Sylus just clicks his tongue, unimpressed, fingers digging into your hips as he holds you still, keeping you right where he wants you.
Sylus shifts back on the couch, pulling you down, controlling your movements with an infuriating ease, guiding you along the few inches he’s deemed fit to give you. It’s barely anything, nowhere near enough, but even that—just that slow, teasing roll of his hips—and the unbearable pressure of the thick, insistent tip of his cock is enough to make your back arch violently against him.
“There we go,” he murmurs, cooing as he watches you, helpless and pliant in his lap. “No more complaining.”
A desperate nod. Another broken whine.
You can feel it building again, the pressure coiling deep inside you, sharp and unbearable. Sobbing, you drop your head into Sylus’s shoulder, biting into the curve of his neck to muffle your cries, nails digging into his shoulders, chest, clawing violent red marks as Sylus shudders, eyes rolling back at the pain. Your legs are shaking too hard to do much of anything anymore, giving out as Sylus is the only thing left guiding you, dragging you toward yet another orgasm.
Or rather, he would have.
But you feel Sylus chuckle, the sound deep and sinful as it rumbles down his chest and into yours, and fear prickles along your spine. Then, with excruciating patience, he pulls out, leaving you empty all over again before tapping his throbbing cock against your clit—slow, deliberate, taunting.
“You wanted just the tip, sweetheart.” He grins, voice a low, cruel purr as he kisses your forehead. “So don’t start crying now that it’s all you’re getting.”
Xavier ♱⋅ ── the munch
“Then sit on my face.”
You stare, dumbfounded, as Xavier already begins leaning back against the cushions of your bed, those big, blue eyes begging up at you in ways that make it hard to breathe.
Xavier’s hands tighten around your waist, fingers flexing like he’s barely restraining himself from yanking you down then and there. The heat of his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making your pulse stammer, making every inch of you ache with want.
“Xavier, I didn’t actually mean…”
“You want me to prove it, right? Then I’ll do what I can to serve you well.” He’s dead serious, you realize, still staring down at him in shock as Xavier frowns, sitting up just long enough to wrap his arms around your waist and haul you toward him, seating you on his chest as protests die in your throat. “Sit.”
Biting your lip, you still find yourself hesitating. What if you’re too heavy? Or if he doesn’t actually like it? You still have your underwear on, shouldn’t you take it off, or does he plan on eating you through it? What if—
"You're thinking too much again." His voice is firm, but gentle, cutting straight through your spiraling thoughts. Before you can get another word in, he lifts you up from the backs of your thighs, guiding you forward until your knees are bracketing his head and you're hovering just above his waiting mouth.
Xavier groans, this is already better than his dreams—just having you above him, so close, so warm—is enough to make him lose his damn mind. His hands are keeping you steady, and when he tilts his head back to look at you again, you almost drown in the sheer hunger in his gaze.
"Please," he murmurs, breathless, sucking and kissing into your thighs like he can't believe you're making him wait so long for something he so, so desperately needs. "I really don’t think I can wait much longer."
A shudder racks through you, thighs trembling as the heat between your legs grows unbearable. Xavier’s so serious, so patient, despite the raw hunger in his voice, despite the way his chest rises and falls in uneven pants beneath you. You’d have to be cruel to deny him.
Slowly, you lower yourself the rest of the way, bracing your hands against the headboard as Xavier immediately pulls you the last few inches down, shoving his face up into you like he’s starving.
He might as well be because the first swipe of his tongue is so hot, so eager, that you nearly jerk away from the sudden pleasure. Not that Xavier would let you. His fingers dig into the marked-up plush of your thighs, keeping you right there as he groans into your pussy like you’re the best fucking thing he’s ever tasted.
“Wait—” Your voice is already breaking, a gasp caught in your throat as he licks into you again, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second of it. He doesn’t even bother pulling your underwear aside, just mouths at the fabric, dampening it further, teasing you through the barrier until it sticks to your folds and you’re a whimpering mess, gripping the headboard so tightly your knuckles ache.
Then he shifts, hooking a single finger under the waistband, dragging it aside just enough to give himself proper access.
The first real flick of Xavier’s tongue against your clit is devastating.
A high, broken moan rips from your throat as pleasure jolts up your spine, your thighs snapping shut around his head, suffocating him as Xavier feels like the happiest man in the world. Moaning into your cunt, Xavier pulls you down harder against his mouth like he wouldn’t mind drowning in your pleasure if it meant he got to taste you for just a few seconds longer.
You’re already cumming. Head falling backward, your lips part in a silent scream as Xavier’s tongue continues circling around your clit in that same, devastating rhythm, only letting go once you’ve come all over his face. But he doesn’t stop for long.
His tongue flicks and curls and fucks into you with the kind of dedication that makes your vision blur, that makes your whole body burn as you become more and more sensitive. And when you grind down against his mouth, desperate and trembling, he just groans in approval, encouraging you to ride his face like you need this just as much as he does.
"That's it," Xavier mumbles between licks, inaudible between your wet, sinful noises. "Don't hold back. Use me."
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling hard, but it only makes him grin against you, only makes him suck harder, making you gasp and sob as your thighs start to shake once more around his head. Still, he devours you, no teasing, no hesitation. Just raw, ravenous hunger.
"Xavier—"
He hums in response, the vibrations sending another sharp wave of pleasure through you. Then he finally fucks his tongue deep into your cunt, curling against your walls as you clench around the hot muscle, Xavier’s nose grinding deliciously into your clit as his hands begin guiding you back and forth once your rhythm falls apart.
You come hard, a choked cry ripping from your throat as your body locks up, pleasure searing through every nerve. Xavier doesn’t stop—doesn’t let you escape—licking and sucking you through your orgasm like he needs every drop, like he won’t be satisfied until you’re a writhing, overstimulated mess above him.
“Ah, Xavier, seriously,” you whine, every suck against your clit now tender and overstimulated as you try and squirm away to no avail. “Can’t, Xavier, can’t come again!”
Crying, you finally manage to wrestle his head out from underneath you—body still shaking, pleasure crackling under your skin like a live wire—realizing something that makes your stomach flip.
Xavier is panting, eyes half-lidded and hazy with bliss, hair fisted in your hands as the rest sticks to his forehead and pillow with sweat, letting you inch off of him as he finally breathes, heaving in deep breaths through swollen, wet lips. His whole body shudders beneath you, and when you shift, you feel it—the sticky warmth against his stomach, the evidence of his release.
He came. Just from eating you out.
And the worst part?
He’s still hard.
“One more time, please?”
Zayne ♱⋅ ── the addicted
Uh oh.
This was bad.
Zayne has always considered himself a beacon of self-control, having grown up under the concept of restraint and caution when it came to everything from his Evol to his life’s work as a surgeon.
But even he could get addicted to having you spread out underneath him like this.
It had started innocently. Zayne had forgotten his lunch today, probably due to his consecutive sleepless nights, thanks to being on call for not two or three but four surgeries this week. So when you delivered his lunch to his private office like any sweet girlfriend would do, it was only natural that you’d want to see if you could help him feel more relaxed and maybe help relieve the stress that was so clearly fogging up his mind.
This, however, was not what you had in mind.
"Zayne, someone is going to hear us," you hiss, voice trembling, but make no move to stop him.
Zayne only hums, two fingers rubbing right up against your clit with expert precision even with your jeans still unzipped around your waist. His other hand shucks them just barely down your thigh, pressing his fingers right back in, curling against that spot that has your legs jerking against the polished wood of his desk before dragging his fingers out of you agonizingly slow.
"You should’ve locked the door when you came in, then." He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, leaning down, his breath hot against your ear. His free hand presses against your stomach, keeping you pinned as he fucks you open with his fingers, movements slow, deliberate. "You know I don’t like being interrupted."
Your head tilts back against the desk as your cries are muffles into your palm. "Zayne!"
"You were the one who wanted to help relieve my stress, weren’t you?" His voice is calm, collected, like he isn’t knuckle-deep inside you with his fingers glistening from how wet he’s made you already. "So be a good girl and take it."
Your breath stutters, thighs twitching as you clench around his fingers, already embarrassingly close with how well he knows your body, how pent up you’ve been after not having Zayne in over a week. Meanwhile, Zayne watches you come undone with sharp, almost clinical eyes, the hunger in them barely restrained, a predator biding his time.
"Mhm, close, I can’t—"
"Yes, you can," he cuts you off smoothly, pressing his fingers deeper, rubbing firm, steady circles over your clit. His expression doesn’t change, but his voice dips lower, smiling ever so slightly as he watches you. "Come for me."
You shudder violently, hands gripping the edges of the desk as another orgasm threatens to crash over you, your body far too weak to resist the relentless pleasure.
"Zayne," you cry out, hips jerking.
He clicks his tongue, allowing you to ride out your orgasm, but not before ripping his tie off, deft, scarred hands looping through the expensive silk before balling it up and pushing it into your open mouth.
“What did I say about staying quiet?”
Your response is stifled around his tie, and Zayne feels his traitorous cock throb at the sound of your fucked out, inaudible voice, the very picture of debauchery with the slight drool smearing your lipstick, your eyes hazy with post-orgasm glow, your office button-down skewed across your breasts just enough so be can squeeze your breast right under your lacy bra.
He wants to ruin you even more.
Zayne has barely even zipped down his pants, holding up his own shirt as he bites it to keep his leaking cock from smearing pre-cum all over the cotton, before he’s desperately fucking his own fist with one hand, the other still circling your clit.
When the sound of voices echo from right outside his office door.
Your body jerks under him at the sudden noise, but Zayne doesn’t stop. If anything, he doubles down, pressing his slick fingers harder against your clit, wrenching another broken sob from your throat, muffled by the tie still shoved between your lips.
“Don’t you dare,” he whispers, voice low, dangerous. His free hand tightens around his cock, stroking faster, more desperate, more sloppy than you’ve ever seen him. The sight alone has your walls clenching down around nothing, a fresh wave of arousal making a mess of his desk and the scattered papers on top.
The voices outside the door grow louder, and Zayne’s entire body tenses. Not with fear. Not with hesitation. But something that he thinks might ruin him forever.
“I should stop,” he murmurs, though his fingers never leave you, still rubbing circles into your overstimulated clit, dragging you higher, forcing you to ride that unbearable edge of pleasure. His teeth clench, brows furrowed as his pace on his own cock stutters, his restraint cracking with every second that passes. “I really should stop.”
You whimper, body trembling beneath him, a plea barely audible around the silk in your mouth.
“But you love this, don’t you?” His voice drops, rasping, guttural. “You love making me a mess, love knowing that the only thing keeping us from getting caught is how good you are for me.”
Zayne never talks like this, but god, now you wish he’d never stop. His mere voice is enough to send you over the edge once again. Your moan is strangled, raw, hips lifting weakly into his touch despite the overstimulation.
The door handle rattles.
Zayne snaps, one arm shooting out as ice surrounds the handle, spears of it crawling over the wooden frame of the door, across the tiled floor as he loses control.
He barely spares it a glance. Pulling the tie from your mouth, Zayne immediately replaces it with his lips, swallowing your gasp as he shoves two fingers back inside you, curling them deep, his strokes ruthless, relentless. His other hand leaves his cock only long enough to drag you forward, forcing your legs around his waist, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance as he moans into your mouth.
"Zayne, your Evol—"
"Don’t worry about me," he hums, kissing you one more time before his gaze drops, watching where the two of you meet. “You’ve done more than enough for me. You’ve always been enough for me.” And he pushes in inch by inch, stretching you open around his thick length, your body still pulsing and greedy from your last orgasm.
Zayne exhales sharply, his forehead pressing against yours as he stills, buried inside you. His fingers flex against your waist, grounding himself, keeping himself from completely unraveling.
“That’s it, breathe,” he murmurs, voice back to the soft, low tone you know so well, the urgency melting into something reverent. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then another to your jaw, as if to soothe you through the stretch. “You’re perfect.”
Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently as you grind upward, coaxing him into going faster, into actually fucking you.
Zayne groans, his control fraying as he clutches you tighter, nose brushing against yours. “You're going to be the death of me,” he whispers, lips ghosting yours in a kiss, the intimacy making your heart clench.
You can still hear muffled voices beyond the door, a stark reminder of the risk, of how dangerously close you are to being caught. But it only makes you cling to him tighter, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you whisper, “Then let me take care of you, Doctor.”
I need her to finally give adult mature people a happy love story. Come on.
Also this is the best artwork I've painted this year. I don't think I can make anything better.
If you'd like to support my work, check out my Patre0n for early access, exclusive spicy art, work-in-progress of future paintings, printable files and more! ✨🗡️
Summary: Helion has been attempting to get reader into his bed for years now, what happens when she finally gives in?
Warnings: smut | minors dni | fingering | p in v | creampie | controlled orgasm | dom/sub dynamics | so much banter | so much smut | they break a table | they do it on the floor | probably a lot more
A. Note: I think this is the longest fic I’ve ever posted so apologies for the wild word count, but also most of this is smut so you’re very welcome ;)
9.6k words.
Sitting in a large, worn leather chair positioned in a secluded corner of the library, I was half-hidden by towering shelves of books. The room was steeped in quiet, interrupted only by the occasional creak of the shelves under their heavy load or the soft turning of a page. The smell of old parchment mingled with the lingering scent of rich mahogany and leather—a sanctuary of knowledge and peace. And yet, even here, there was no escaping the High Lord.
"You've been avoiding me." Helion's voice cut through the tranquil silence with a casual grace, as he rounded one of the shelves that had been sheltering me. His amber eyes gleamed mischievously as he approached, a book tucked under his muscular arm. I highly doubted it was for actual reading.
"And you've been following me," I replied dryly, eyes fixed on my book. The words on the page blurred slightly, my pulse quickening from the mere presence of him.
"This is my personal library," he countered smoothly, leaning against the shelf, his broad frame casting a shadow over me. His proximity was a cage, yet the alcove still felt oddly cozy. "I'd say you're the one hoping to run into me." He gestured at the books surrounding us, a small portion of his vast collection, his smile all too knowing. "Besides, I happen to like reading."
The soft, golden light from a nearby lamp warmed the deep brown of his skin, making him look almost otherworldly as if carved from the light itself. I forced myself to stay calm, sinking deeper into the chair as I replied, "What book is that, then?" My chin jerked toward the novel he held so proudly, though I leaned back, attempting to appear indifferent.
With one of his signature smirks, Helion pulled the book from under his arm, holding it out like a grand reveal. "The Art of Seduction," he mused, his voice dripping with confidence.
"Subtle," I muttered, tossing him a glare before trying to lose myself in my own book again. The pages held nothing for me, not while Helion loomed over me with that look in his eyes. That ever-present challenge.
Unsurprisingly, he didn't leave. "Thought I could brush up on my skills, seeing as you seem so indifferent to my irresistible charm," he chimed, far too pleased with himself as he slid into the chair directly in front of mine, uninvited.
I narrowed my eyes, fighting back the heat rising in my cheeks. "Really? Out of every seat in this library, you choose that one?"
He shrugged, his casual air too relaxed for someone invading my space. "Well, you've stolen my usual one, so I must make do with lesser options." His lips twitched, eyes gleaming with amusement as he cracked open the book he clearly had no intention of reading, propping his feet up on the low table between us.
I stared, incredulous. "They're the same chair."
Helion gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod, his eyes flashing with humor. "True, but that one smells like me."
I froze for a moment, my fingers going still against the soft leather of the armrest. The faint, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and bergamot swirled around me, and I cursed inwardly. It was familiar, inescapable, and frustratingly warm, like the High Lord himself. My gaze flicked up to his, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely absorbed in his book, a small line forming between his brows as if the words were the most fascinating thing in the world.
I had to stifle a laugh at the sight. I wasn't sure he'd ever actually read a single page of his vast collection, yet there he was, looking like a scholar lost in study.
We fell into a comfortable silence—Helion reading, or pretending to read, and me half-heartedly flipping through my book, both of us mirroring each other, our feet propped up on the table in an unspoken truce. The moment felt oddly peaceful, and for a brief second, I allowed myself to enjoy it.
But, of course, it didn't last.
Only a few moments later, Helion shut his book with a soft thud, and I felt his foot nudge mine from across the table. I resisted the urge to respond, cursing his long limbs and moving my legs out of his reach, but he persisted—sending a glare of sunlight directly into my line of sight, making it nearly impossible to read.
"Would you stop that?" I snapped, lowering my book and glaring at him from beneath my brows. He only grinned, looking far too pleased with himself.
"What book is that?" he asked as if the answer mattered.
I sighed. "Some random one I found on the shelves." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the truth, either.
"Sunshine," he drawled, his voice like velvet as he leaned forward slightly, "I've read every book in this library. That one, I'm not familiar with."
I ignored him, focusing back on my book, though I wasn't reading a single word. The heat from his gaze felt palpable, like sunlight warming my skin.
"What is it?" he pressed again, his voice dripping with faux curiosity. His fingers twitched, and I braced myself as yet another glare of sunlight angled right into my eyes.
"I'm not telling," I muttered, holding up my forearm to shield my face from the assault.
Helion chuckled softly. "I'm commanding you to tell me, as High Lord," he said, the playful light still dancing at his fingertips.
"Why do you care so much?" I grumbled, slamming my book shut with an exaggerated huff.
He leaned back, eyes never leaving mine. "I wish to know what could possibly be more interesting than me." His smirk widened as if the very thought was inconceivable.
I said nothing, my silence was the only answer I was willing to give.
"How about a bet?" he suggested, the gleam in his eyes unmistakable. "If I can make you smile in the next five minutes, you have to tell me what you're reading."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "And if you lose?"
Helion's smirk softened into something more sincere. "I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night."
A tempting offer. I considered it for a moment, imagining a night of uninterrupted reading, free from his constant prattling.
"Deal. Five minutes," I said, returning to my book.
For a while, Helion was silent, the ticking clock in my mind counting down the seconds. But knowing him, he probably believed he didn't need the full-time—that one well-timed sentence would be enough.
"You look adorable with your nose stuffed in a book," he murmured, breaking the silence. His voice was softer now, more intimate, like a confession shared in the quiet of a night.
I rolled my eyes. "That's usually what people do in a library."
Helion's smile widened. "And yet, I find myself much more interested in studying you."
"Why don't you leave me alone and go read your book? Maybe you'll learn how to actually charm me," I shot back, trying to ignore the way his words made my pulse race.
"I could recite poetry and still fall short," he sighed dramatically as if I truly had him beat.
Despite myself, a smile tugged at my lips at the absurdity of it all.
"There it is," he marveled, his voice a soft victory.
My fleeting smile turned into a scowl. "That doesn't count. I was smiling at the thought of you leaving me alone."
Helion laughed. "A smile is a smile." He extended his hand, eyes glinting. "So, show me the book."
I look down to the page I was on—to the very erotic scene playing out that I hadn't even realized was happening, too busy pretending to read when he was talking to me to even realize.
"I—no," I murmur, slamming my book shut.
"We had a deal, so unless you want to have permanent bargain tattoos with me, I suggest you hand it over." He quipped and I frowned at the idea of something so permanent on my body being associated with him.
"Fine," I grumble, holding the book out to him with a string of grumbled curses. He takes the book, his fingers brushing over mine—the touch shooting rays of warmth up my arm. I shake it off and settle back into my chair which smelt so strongly of him.
Helion crosses his ankle over his knee, reclining back in his chair with the casual confidence that seems permanently etched into his being. His long, golden fingers lazily flip over my book, turning it to read the back. I watch as his brow arches and the corner of his mouth tugs upward.
"Reading about me, are we?" His voice breaks the silence, low and teasing, pulling my attention from my own thoughts. His gaze flickers up to mine, gleaming with amusement.
My head tilts in confusion, a frown forming. "It's not about you. How self-centered can you possibly get?" I scoff, reaching for the book with a frustrated hand, but he pulls it just out of reach with an effortless motion.
"A king falling for his emissary?" he continues, ignoring my protest. His fingers tap against the page in emphasis. "Sounds familiar, no?"
His eyes, molten gold in the dim library light, lock with mine, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. My pulse quickens, not from the question itself, but from the look on his face—the playful way he studies me like I'm a puzzle to be solved.
"My book, Helion," I demand, extending my arm towards him, though it feels like a futile gesture. He watches me closely, a cat toying with its prey.
"In a moment." He waves off my request with a casual flick of his hand, settling deeper into the oversized chair that barely manages to hold his broad frame. He opens the book, his eyes landing right on the page marked by my ribbon. My heart stutters in my chest. No, no, no. He's going to read that part. I freeze, eyes wide as I watch his expression for any sign of disgust or, worse, judgment.
But there's nothing. His lips curl into a slow smile, amusement dancing in his gaze. "This is far better than I could have ever imagined," he purrs, a wicked light entering his eyes as he lets the book fall closed and tosses it onto the table between us, entirely unbothered.
"I'm doing a book club with the Valkyries. It wasn't my first choice," I mumble quickly, snatching the book back from the table. My fingers are trembling slightly, and I hope he doesn't notice. The truth is, I was mortified.
Helion, of course, doesn't seem fazed by my embarrassment. "No need to defend yourself. Although," he leans back with a leisurely stretch, his muscles rippling beneath his tunic, "I have an entire shelf of erotica in the back that's much better written. And doesn't use words like 'velvet-wrapped steel.'"
Heat floods my cheeks, a fierce blush creeping up my neck. "Shouldn't you be doing High Lord stuff?" I grumble, trying to deflect, my mortification reaching new heights. "Not pestering me?"
"My court is asleep." He shrugs as if the affairs of his court are a mere inconvenience. "Nothing happens in the Day Court after the sun goes down." He huffs like it's a travesty, though there's a gleam in his eye suggesting he prefers it that way. "Well, nothing for the public eye anyway," he adds with a sultry grin, his eyes darkening, his voice dripping with innuendo.
I roll my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "You still have land to rule. People to govern. They don't disappear just because they're asleep." I remind him, though I can't help but let my gaze flicker to the strong line of his jaw, the way his dimples deepen when he smiles.
"Delegation, my dear," he responds, his tone infuriatingly smug. "The key to any successful leader."
"If only you could delegate your need for constant attention," I shoot back, offering a sweet smile that hides my annoyance.
His shoulders slump in an exaggerated show of disappointment, his hand dramatically pressed to his chest. "Well, that just wouldn't work. There's only one person I want attention from."
The weight of his words hangs in the air, the meaning unmistakable. My heart skips a beat, my pulse fluttering in my throat as I force myself to remain calm. I can feel his gaze roaming over me like he's waiting for me to react. My eyes flick over his form, all lean muscle and rich, sun-kissed skin that practically glows in the warm library light. Everything about him radiates confidence—dangerous, seductive confidence.
"And I'm sure she's flattered," I say dryly, snapping my gaze away from his broad chest. "Too bad she's not here to distract you." I shift in my seat, trying to appear unbothered by the way his eyes are lingering on me, though I feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
Helion tilts his head, watching me with that same predatory amusement, as though he's enjoying a game only he knows the rules to. His forearms rest on his spread thighs, and gods, those thighs. I can't help but glance, at his muscles thick and defined. His deep chuckle pulls my attention back to his face.
"Oh, she's here," he muses, his voice dropping lower, rougher. "She just needs to stop pretending I'm not the most interesting thing in this library."
I open my mouth to respond, to shoot back some biting retort, but I'm momentarily speechless, my heart beating a little too fast. Instead, I huff and bury my nose in the book, determined to ignore him. It's unprofessional. He's the High Lord. And I'm his emissary. Even entertaining the idea of his flirting is toeing a dangerous line. Besides, I know Helion's reputation. I'm not interested in being just another conquest, no matter how much he seems to enjoy teasing me.
But gods, he makes it difficult.
"Stop glaring at that book." His voice breaks into my thoughts again, his tone laced with amusement. "Either you're about to throw it into a fire, or you're thinking about something else entirely."
I glance up at him, eyes narrowing. "I'm thinking about how much quieter it would be in here without you."
"This is a library, you know?" I add, flipping a page in a show of indifference.
"Yes, but this library is only open to the public during the daytime. Except for those permitted access." He reclines even further, his fingers interlacing behind his head as he watches me, that maddening grin still plastered on his face.
"And if someone with clearance is in here with you, disrupting their quiet?" I tilt my head at him, matching his smug expression.
He mirrors the movement. "Everyone with clearance is already here. Not even the librarians can come in after hours."
I blink, my mind catching up with his words. And then it hits me. "I'm the only one with permission, aren't I?" My voice comes out soft, the realization settling in.
"Took you long enough," he grins, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight.
"And how many women did this trick work on?" I grumble, my suspicion growing, even as my pulse quickens under his gaze.
"Just you," he says, and for once, the cocky smile falters into something more sincere.
I snort in disbelief. "It hasn't worked yet," I retort, though my voice sounds weaker than I'd like.
"Yet?" He arches a brow, his gaze flickering over me, daring me to challenge him.
My lips press into a thin line, and I bury myself back in my book, hiding behind the pages. "Go away, Helion." My voice comes out more of a plea than an order, and I curse myself for how breathless it sounds.
"I don't want you to miss me." His tone is snarky, yet something told me he genuinely believed what he was saying. I force myself not to look at him, to not fall for whatever game he's playing.
"Nonsense," I murmur, my cheeks burning. "I'd be too busy enjoying the peace."
Helion sighs dramatically, though there's a glimmer of laughter in his voice. "I'm not sure you're capable of quiet when I'm around. You always have something to say."
He's right, of course, and that's what infuriates me the most. No matter how much I want to ignore him, I can't. There's something about him that pulls the words right out of me.
"It's called defending myself from your constant attempts at flirting," I snap, though I don't dare look up, knowing he's probably biting back another smile.
"And here I was thinking we were bonding." His voice drops, laced with a dark, rich amusement. I glance up just in time to see him run a hand down his thigh, slow and deliberate, as though daring me to watch.
"This is what you call bonding?" I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the tension in the air almost unbearable. "I call it you trying—and failing—to charm me."
"Oh please," he laughs softly, his smile widening. "You've been charmed by me since the day we met. Don't think I haven't noticed the looks you've been sneaking all night."
His words land like a punch to the gut, and I flush, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. I can't tell if I'm mortified because he caught me or because I was staring at all.
"You think too highly of yourself," I mutter, sinking deeper into the chair as if it could swallow me whole. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered I am.
Helion only leans closer, his voice softening, turning almost serious. "You're the only one who thinks too lowly of me."
The sudden shift in his tone catches me off guard, and for the first time tonight, I meet his gaze fully. There's no teasing, no playful glint. Just him, watching me with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs.
I truly tried to focus on what I was reading, but his lingering gaze on me was going to drive me wild. Somehow that stare spoke louder than any words he could've said. He was offering me the silence I wanted, while simultaneously pushing me to insanity. Surely I couldn't get mad at him for simply observing? Yet here I was, nearly fuming at the way he tracked each of my movements.
Eventually, I grow sick of his ogling, so I snap my book closed and turn to him with narrowed eyes. Stop looking at me like that," I order, pushing myself up from the chair that had all but swallowed me. It's identical to the one Helion has turned into his makeshift throne, yet somehow, he manages to own his space with ease.
"Like what?" He rises with me, and I have to crane my neck just to maintain eye contact. Even that, the way I have to look up at him, feels like some small concession.
I stare at him, his features softened by the glow of the candlelight. His usual smirk is nowhere to be seen, and his golden eyes hold no trace of the lust or amusement I've come to expect from him. Instead, they're filled with something even more dangerous—reverence. He looks at me like I'm more than just a passing amusement, more than just a fleeting fancy. Like I'm something precious.
"Like I'm more than just a game to you," I shake my head, tearing my gaze away. The weight of his stare is too much. I toss the book in my hands onto the coffee table with more force than necessary and stride past him, desperate to escape the suffocating tension of our little alcove. I don't trust myself to stay there, not with him looking at me like that.
"You think this is a game?" His voice follows me as I make my way through the dim, quiet library. It's empty, save for the two of us, but somehow, his presence alone fills every corner.
"Isn't it?" I shoot back, unwilling to turn and face him. The memory of his gaze burns too fresh in my mind. "Your reputation for women precedes you, Helion." The words slip out harsher than I intended. It's a low blow, bringing up his past like this, but I need him to understand why I can't—why I shouldn't.
I expect him to brush it off, but instead, he's beside me in a flash, walking in step as though he belongs at my side. "You think I would chase after a female for three years just for sex?" His voice is surprisingly calm, but there's a thread of frustration woven into it. "I've been rejected before, and I always respect it."
I stop in my tracks, staring up at him with creased brows. "Then what makes me so different?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. It's a question I've been avoiding for months, maybe longer. Because deep down, I'm afraid of the answer. I'm afraid of what it might mean—for both of us.
Helion doesn't hesitate. "Because you feel it too." He steps closer, his movements slow, deliberate. The air between us crackles with unspoken tension, and yet I don't move. "This thing between us, you delight in it just as much as I do."
He takes another step forward, closing the distance, and my back hits the bookshelf behind me. Trapped, my breath hitches, but I refuse to show any sign of retreat.
"I'm not going to be another girl you charm for a night and forget by morning," I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. It's a quiet confession, more to myself than to him.
Helion's hand comes up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheek with an unbearable tenderness. "I wouldn't forget you," he murmurs, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd.
The proximity is overwhelming now. His warmth radiates off him, pulling me in, and my resolve—what little remains—begins to crumble. My body betrays me, my hands itching to touch him, to feel the strength in the muscles I've tried not to think about for so long.
"Helion,” I murmur, his name a warning, or maybe a plea. I don't even know anymore.
His gaze drops to my lips, his thumb never stopping its gentle, maddening caress. "Tell me, what keeps you from me?" he asks softly, his breath mingling with mine.
My throat tightens, and I remind myself of all the reasons this is a terrible idea. "I would hate myself if I became another one of your conquests." The words come out softer than I intend, laced with the fear I've been trying so hard to suppress.
But Helion doesn't back away. He doesn't laugh or brush it off. Instead, he leans in closer, his voice low and rough. "You're not. And even if you were—with the amount of time I've had to think about you, it'd take months to cross everything I want to do to you off the list." His lips ghost over mine, the barest hint of a touch that sets my skin ablaze.
"Helion," I repeat, the name a broken caution.
"Tell me to stop, I will." He promises, his voice raw with need. He inches closer, only a hairsbreadth away. "Tell me." He whispers, lips ghosting over mine.
I didn't have it in myself to tell him to stop, to even push him away. I wanted this, needed this. I surged upwards and closed the distance between us.
For three years he had been taunting me, teasing me with pretty words and suggestive smiles, and now I was finally giving him what he wanted—and what I have secretly been wanting far longer than he suspects, and it was everything I could've hoped for.
My back pressed harder into the shelf behind me as his chest met mine, while his hands, warm and firm wrapped around my hips, drawing me closer until there was no space between us. My body betrayed my mind, my thoughts warning me to stop, to end this before it was too late, but my hands were running down his muscles chest I've been craving to feel for years, my fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic and pulling him into me, deepening our kiss.
Every touch sent sparks skittering across my skin, and for a moment I allowed myself to drown in him, in the heat of him, his scent, the way he kissed me like he might never get the chance again.
His hands traveled from my hips, beneath my shirt to grip my waist—and the feel of his calloused hands on my bare skin was enough to send me reeling. The kiss grew more frantic, more desperate. His skilled tongue explored every possible inch of my mouth, and I allowed it, reveling in the way he so eagerly tasted me.
When I finally pulled away, breaking our kiss, our breaths coming in ragged gasps I stared up into his dilated pupils, the playful spark I was used to seeing there replaced by something deeper, something that sent both a jolt of fear and excitement through me. He was staring down at me like I was the only thing in the room—hel, like I was the only thing that mattered.
He leans closer, placing an all-too-gentle kiss on the expanse just below my ear. "Helion," I echoed, my fists still clenching his shirt.
"Yeah?" He uttered, his breath hot against my skin as he slowly trailed his lips down my jaw.
"We shouldn't, we can't," I sigh breathlessly, my hand weaving into his hair, tilting my head, allowing him to deepen his kiss.
"Who said?" He murmurs into my skin.
"It isn't professional," I say between breaths, my pulse rapidly fluttering, his tongue flicking over it playfully.
"Do you want to stop?" He asked, pulling away to look me in the eyes and the loss of his contact made something inside me ache.
"I—no, gods no," I profess, my hands wrapping around the back of his neck.
"Then I don't care if it's professional, let me give you what you need," He whispered, his lips brushing mine. "Alright?"
I don't reply, and instead crash his lips onto mine once more, the rest of my defenses crumbling at the action. The kiss was hungrier this time, more demanding. I gave in fully as his tongue found its way into my mouth yet again, my chest arching into his as his hands slipped down to cup the back of my thighs, tapping me twice as a silent command to jump. I did exactly as he wished, wrapping my legs around his torso as he supported me, his touch traveled higher to cradle me by the curve of my ass. He smiled into the kiss, even in the heat of the moment his cocky grin manages to make an appearance.
He pushes off the shelf, blindly guiding us through the shelves and to the center of the empty library, where tables fill the area. He placed me down on the edge of the center table, his hands leaving my backside in favor of exploring new, untouched areas. Heat races through my veins as his hands trailed to the hem of my skirt, slipping beneath it without hesitation, his thumb grazing against the seam of my panties.
"Wait," I pant against his lips and his hand freezes. "Not here," I murmured, pecking his lips softly.
"It's just us in here, remember?" He reassured me when I pulled away, kissing my forehead. "Just us." His lips brush against my skin as he repeats the words and I can feel my resolve slipping. There was no more room for doubt, no more room for fear. All that existed was an overwhelming need to have him, to feel him in every way possible, to lose myself entirely in him until I didn't know where he ended and where I began.
"Just us," I echo, nodding slowly.
"We can stop," He said, despite how clearly he wanted this and was desperate for this.
"No, Helion don't stop," I connect our lips once more, allowing my legs to fall open farther, inviting him.
He forced himself to pull away, to restrain himself from me for just a moment longer. "You're okay with this, then?" He rasped, eyes pure gold.
"Yes," I answered. "Gods, yes." I pulled him into me, his hips meeting mine. His grin turned almost wolfish, primal as he tore through my skirt like it was nothing, discarding the fabric. He pulled me to the very edge of the table, his hands rubbing higher up my thighs, tracing the seam of my panties. I gasped as he pressed two fingers onto my clothed folds, just the right amount of pressure, not enough to get any real gratification from—but gods it still felt good. He smirks against my lips as he feels the damp spot forming on the cloth and I flush in embarrassment.
"I haven't even touched you," He noted aloud, deepening my blush. "Tell me, baby, were you this wet when I was simply talking to you?" He utters between kisses and I fight the urge to sneer at him.
"Do you ever shut up?" I ask, my question genuine. He responds with a searing kiss, which did in fact quiet him.
He couldn't control himself any longer, not with my hands roaming his back, my lips on his. He tore through my undergarments in a similar fashion to my skirt, tossing the wet fabric somewhere unimportant to me. He pulled back from our kiss, and I tugged at his bottom lip to stop him from leaving but he ignored my silent complaint, only to peer down at the apex of my thighs.
He grunted at the sight, his forehead meeting mine as he swiped two fingers through my embarrassingly wet core, his fingers coming back dripping. I throbbed for more, letting out a quiet moan as his thumb came down onto my clit, my head tilted back in ecstasy as he began circling it, his skillful touch setting my skin on fire as his middle finger traced my dripping entrance. I bucked slightly, leaning on my hands behind me as I lifted my hips for more friction.
He chuckled breathlessly, the sound humiliating, while simultaneously making me crave him so much more.
He didn't make me wait long before his own restraint snapped, letting go of that leash he had been gripping so tightly and pushing two of his fingers inside of me.
I moaned at the stretch, louder this time, relishing in the way his calloused fingers scraped against my walls, fitting me around him so perfectly.
He grunted at the sound of my moans, his pace unrelenting as his fingers thrust into me repeatedly, deep and slow. The pressure building inside me had my legs trembling as I spread them wider for him, silently begging for more.
"That's it," he rasped into my open mouth, his voice hoarse with desire. "Doing so well for me." His words were like kindling to the fire already raging in my core, my entire body aching for release. I could barely find the breath to respond, only able to whimper his name.
I bit my lip as he curled his fingers inside me, hitting that sweet spot that had me seeing stars. My eyes squeezed shut, my chest rising and falling with ragged breaths as I tried to hold on, trying not to fall apart too soon, but he didn't seem to like that idea.
His other hand moved up my body, pulling the fabric of my shirt open to expose my breasts. He skillfully unclasped my bra, disposing of it just as he did with the rest of my clothes, leaving me entirely bare. He wasted no time in leaning down and capturing one of my peaked nipples between his teeth. The added sensation had my whole body jerking forward, my fingers tangling in his hair as I gasped.
"Yeah? You like that?" he muttered against my skin, the vibration of his voice sending shivers down my spine. I nodded frantically, unable to form words, as his fingers pumped into me with precision, his thumb pressing down on my clit, moving in tight circles that had me trembling on the edge of oblivion.
I was so close, so damn close, but I didn't want it to end just yet. I tugged on his hair, trying to pull him away from my breast, but he didn't budge. If anything, he seemed encouraged by the way my body was reacting to him, his fingers moving faster, his tongue flicking over my nipple with maddening strokes.
"Gods," I moaned, my head tilting back towards the vaulted ceiling, towards the sky and everything beyond, praying for relief, for that sweet, euphoric high. "Helion—m'close," I confess through a whimper, feeling my body reach its ascent.
"You going to beg for it?" He purred, pulling away from my breast, peering up at me.
"What?" I utter, too lost in my pleasure to even wrap my head around the thought.
"Beg for it." He repeats. "Beg for me to let you come." He reiterates, his voice low, sultry. My arousal increases, I must've been dripping into his hand.
"I'm not—fuck," I hiss as he curves his fingers into that sensitive spot, but not enough pressure to push me over the edge, he was toying with me. "Not g'na beg," I murmur, my body betraying me by trembling under his touch.
"No? Still not ready to admit how needy you are for me?" He tutted, seeming almost disappointed. The tone was degrading in itself, enough to send me reeling—but then his fingers were pulling out of me and he had no intention of thrusting them back in.
I gasped, my resolve shattering as I bucked my hips up desperately. "No—no please," I give in, my body aching for him to fill me again. "Helion, please—"
I stare through low-lidded eyes as a smile slowly spreads across his sensuous lips. "Please what? Tell me what you want."
"Wanna come, please I've needed this for so long," My breath hitched, it was hard to dig the words I've kept buried so deep back up, to confess them not only to him but to myself as well. "I've needed you, for so long."
He leans closer, pecking my lips softly, in such a tender way it made me forget about everything else, about what the court might think, about my fear of being just another game to him. It was only us, connected in every way possible.
"There she is," He pulled back from my lips. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He teased between kisses.
"Helion, please, can I?" I whine, the sound so pitiful I barely recognize it as my own.
"Go ahead love, come on my hand." He rasped, and just like that, the world shattered around me. My orgasm tore through me like a storm, my body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. I cried out his name, my hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into the corded muscle there as he coaxed me through every second of it, his fingers never stopping, pushing me higher, deeper into bliss.
When I finally came down, my body limp and trembling, he pulled his fingers from me, his eyes dark with lust as he brought them to his lips. He licked them clean, tasting me with a low, satisfied groan that sent another pulse of heat through me.
"You taste better than I imagined," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, making me shiver despite the warmth still radiating from my core.
But before I could catch my breath, he was already pulling off his clothes, his eyes locked on mine with a hunger that made my heart race all over again.
"You didn't think I was done with you, did you?" he asked, his grin returning as he tugged his pants down, his hardened cock springing free. My eyes widened at the sight, and for a second I debated if he'd even fit.
"Now," he whispered, guiding me off the table so I could plant my feet solidly on the ground. His voice sent a thrill down my spine as he said, "Be a good girl and bend over the table f'me, yeah?"
I slowly turned my back to him, my legs shaky from the intense pleasure still coursing through me, his hands never left my body. They trailed down my sides, strong and possessive, igniting embers of anticipation in their wake. His touch alone had me quivering, but the look in his eyes—dark, feral—made my pulse quicken.
I bent over the table as instructed, the cool wood pressing against my flushed skin. The vulnerable position made my blood heat, but excitement flared deep inside me, mixing with the lingering ache of desire. His breath was hot against my ear as he leaned over me, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck.
"That's it, baby," he purred, his fingers trailing teasingly down my spine before settling on my hips, pinning them in place. "So eager to please."
I could hear the sound of his breath hitching, and feel the tension in the air as he lined himself up behind me, his tip nudging at my entrance. I bit my lip, expectancy tightening my body.
He pushed forward slowly, torturously so, letting me feel every inch as he stretched me. A low, guttural groan escaped his lips, and my own whimper joined it, the sensation overwhelming, leaving no room for thought, only the feeling of him filling me completely.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, hands gripping my hips tighter. "So, so tight." His voice sent a wave of need through me, the table was too long for me to find any leverage, I was left stranded between the polished wood and his broad chest, unable to steady myself.
With an impatient, sharp snap of his hips, he pushed into me deeper, granting a gasp from my lips. The suddenness of it sent a shudder through me, pleasure curling through my body in response. He leaned over me again, his mouth grazing my ear. "You feel so good," he rasped, his voice a mixture of lust and satisfaction as he began to move, each thrust deep and slow, drawing out every bit of sensation until I was trembling beneath him.
I couldn't help the moans that slipped past my lips as he built a rhythm, each movement of his hips driving me higher, closer to the edge once again. My back bowed, pressing into his chest and deepening the angle of him, the sensation eliciting a noiseless scream from me.
His hands tightened on my hips, fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me back to meet each of his thrusts. Every movement was deliberate, slow but devastatingly deep, as though he wanted me to feel every inch of him, to memorize the way he stretched me, and filled me so completely. The pressure was maddening, making my body tremble beneath him, a delicious torment that left me teetering on the edge but not quite enough to tip over.
His pace quickened, the drag of him inside me was almost too much to bear, and yet not enough all at once. His hands were gripping me so tightly I was sure there would be bruises by morning, but the thought only made me hotter, the idea of his marks on me driving me wild.
The sound of skin meeting skin filled the air, each slap punctuated by our ragged breaths. My nails dug into the table's edge, desperate for something to anchor myself to, but every time I thought I could catch my breath, he would change the angle just slightly, hitting that spot deep inside me that sent white-hot pleasure shooting through my veins.
"You sound so perfect moaning my name," He murmured beside my ear. "So fucking perfect for me." His words sent a shiver down my spine, a molten heat spreading through my core. My body was caught in the rhythm he set, each thrust rocking me against the wood of the table, it creaked beneath us, but it was his ragged breaths and the low, guttural sounds he made that had my heart racing, my need climbing higher and higher.
He shifted his grip, one hand moving from my hip to slide up my spine, tracing a line of fire until it fisted into my hair, pulling my head back just enough for his lips to make contact with the most sensitive spot on my neck, sucking on the area hard. "I want to hear you," he demanded, voice low and rough against my throat. "I want to hear you fall apart for me."
I moaned loudly in response, the sound raw, desperate, as his hand tugged harder, pulling my back into a deeper arch. My entire body was taut, every nerve lit up under his command. His other hand slid around to my front, fingers finding the aching bundle of nerves between my legs, circling it with relentless precision.
The duel stimulation nearly broke me. My body jerked beneath him, every muscle tightening as I fought to hold back, but it was a losing battle. The pressure was building again, faster this time, harder, threatening to unravel me completely.
"That's it," he murmured, his fingers speeding up in sync with his thrusts. "I can feel you, baby. You're close, aren't you? So close to coming all over my cock."
I was. I was so desperate, I could hardly think, my mind a haze of nothing but him—his voice, his hands, his cock twitching inside me. My breaths came out in shallow gasps, each one forced from me by the sensation of his fingers working me toward the brink.
"Come for me," he commanded, his voice like gravel, rough and impatient. "Let go."
I shattered around him. My body tensed as the orgasm ripped through me, pleasure crashing down in waves so intense it left me trembling and breathless. I cried out, the sound broken and uninhibited, my walls clenching tightly around him as I came harder than I thought possible.
He groaned in response, feeling my pulse around him, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. His thrusts grew erratic, rougher, until finally, with a deep, guttural moan, he followed me over the edge, spilling into me with a few last powerful thrusts that left us both gasping for breath.
For a moment, we stayed like that, bodies entwined, both of us panting and spent. His hands, once gripping me with unrelenting force, now softened, running soothingly over my hips and sides. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and I shivered, still coming down from the high, my legs weak and trembling.
Ever so slowly he pulled out of me, his warm hands guiding me upright. I trembled, my arms shaking as I used them to hold myself up. I leaned against the table as I turned around to face him, my cheeks flushed with exertion, my entire body heated with stimulation.
"Feeling alright?" He asks, his voice so gentle in contrast to his earlier roughness. I nod slowly, gripping the edge of the table behind me for support.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, nearly lovingly, then cups my cheek. I allow myself to lean into the touch, turning my head to place a soft kiss on his palm.
Something in his eyes changed then, something deeper than lust or need, and before I could stop myself I was wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck and slotting my mouth over his yet again.
My legs trembled as he kissed me, savored me so thoroughly like he'd never get sick of the taste. He noticed my unsteady stance and hoisted me back up onto the table, guiding me to lay down, sprawled for him.
The table creaked when he leaned on it and I grabbed his wrist, halting him. "The table won't hold both of us," I say breathlessly, especially not if he was going to push into me as rough as he was earlier.
"Then we'll move to the floor when it snaps." He smirks, crawling over me despite my warning, and I can't help but allow a feeling of excitement and arousal to flicker through me at the promise of his words.
He hovers over me, his hands beside my head as he hardens again, at just the sight of me, the thought of me bare beneath him, legs spread for his entrance. His sultry smirk widens as his tip brushes against my core. "Helion," I whimper, his name on my lips a prayer on its own. "Need you," I beg, my words no longer my own as eagerness for pleasure consumed me.
His gaze darkened, the hunger in his eyes sending a shiver down my spine. He lowered his mouth to my neck, his lips grazing my skin in a teasingly slow path. "Say it again," he murmured, voice hoarse with need, the warmth of his breath making my pulse race beneath him.
I swallowed, my hands gripping his biceps as my chest rose and fell in shallow, desperate breaths. "Please," I whispered, tilting my head to give him better access, my body trembling with anticipation. "Please, Helion. I need you."
A groan escaped his throat, primal and possessive. He didn't make me wait any longer. With one swift, powerful thrust, he pushed into me, the sound of my gasp mingling with his low growl as he filled me completely. The table creaked louder beneath us, and I could feel its instability, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
Helion moved with a steady, deep rhythm at first, his hips rolling as he gripped my waist with one hand, the other bracing himself beside my head. "You're perfect like this," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Desperate and moaning my name."
I could only whine in response, the delicious friction building inside me, pushing me closer to the edge with every thrust. He quickened his pace, the intensity rising, and I arched into him, wrapping my legs around his hips, desperate for more of him, all of him. The tension coiled tighter within me, the sound of our bodies colliding and the ragged breaths filling the room.
"Helion," My voice was barely a whisper, swallowed by the pleasure that rippled through me. His name left my lips again in a breathy plea, barely heard below the splintering of the table, and with another powerful thrust, one leg of the table snapped. He gathered me in his arms before we could go crashing, High Lord strength holding me upright, all while still nestled inside of me.
I was too focused on how good he was making me feel to think about the change of positions, too focused on how he was lifting me up and down on his cock, the quick pace making me release a string of needs.
He dropped to his knees, kneeling down and placing me on the carpeted floor, just as he promised.
He didn't relent in his thrusting despite the altering of position, he fucked me right through it, overwhelmed me with intense pleasure so I barely noticed it as well.
"So perfect, like you were made for me," he breathed, his voice thick with lust as he thrust deeper, each stroke igniting another wave of pleasure that threatened to drown me. I could feel every muscle in my body tensing, arching to meet him, lost in the rhythm he set.
I whimpered, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as if I could merge our bodies even more completely. "Helion, please," I begged, the words spilling from my lips unbidden. "Don't stop. I'm so close."
His response was a low growl, and he quickened his pace, driving deeper, harder, as he captured my mouth in a heated kiss. His tongue tangled with mine, his lips moving against mine as if he were trying to devour me whole. I could feel the way he was losing himself too, the need in his movements matching the frantic beating of my heart.
The carpet shifted beneath us— and I realized we no longer lay against the floor, but a soft mattress. Somewhere during our heated kiss he had winnowed us into what I assume was his bedroom, the sounds of our bodies slapping together echoing off the walls. Helion's hands gripped my hips, guiding me as he thrust up into me, his movements unrelenting. Each thrust built until I was teetering on the edge of release.
"Just a little more," he encouraged, his breath hot against my ear. "I can feel you tightening around me. Let go, love." The endearment sent a thrill through me, urging me closer to the precipice.
"Helion!" I gasped, feeling the coil within me tighten to its breaking point. I surrendered completely, my body instinctively arching and clenching around him as I felt the wave crash over me. My orgasm hit with blinding force, washing over me in intense ripples of pleasure as I cried out, my body trembling in response.
He followed me over the edge, his own release spilling forth as he growled my name, the sound mingling with the rush of my own pleasure. Helion thrust a few more times, riding out both our climaxes, our bodies perfectly attuned to one another.
He finally pulled out of me, flipping down onto the mattress beside me. I rested my head against his shoulder, his hand slipped into mine, our fingers intertwining, feeling blissfully content, the world around us fading into the background as I savored the afterglow.
After a few moments, I giggled softly, breaking the comfortable silence. "I can't believe we broke a table."
He chucked breathlessly, the warm sound making a feeling bloom in my chest. "It never stood a chance," He replied.
"Literally," I added, eliciting another quiet laugh from him.
I turned onto my side, wrapping an arm around his bare torso, furrowing into his warmth.
I lay still, the warmth of his body fading as he pulled away, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. My heart raced with a mix of confusion and irritation as I watched him slip into his pants. "I thought I wasn't another conquest?" I muttered, my voice laced with hurt as I searched his eyes for the truth.
Helion paused, his expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. "You're not," he said, the sincerity in his tone softening the edges of my anger. But then I narrowed my eyes, my glare unwavering.
"Then where are you going?" I pressed, the question heavy on my heart.
A playful smile tugged at his lips, clearly amused by my reaction. "Would you have a little faith in me? I'm getting a cloth to clean you up," he reassured, turning toward the basin beside the window. I watched him wet a cloth, wringing it out with careful precision before making his way back to the bed.
My glare faltered, replaced by a rush of embarrassment as he returned to my side, settling beside me, I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and my breath hitched slightly at the intimacy of the moment. Helion gently dragged the damp cloth between my legs, his movements deliberate and tender, and I couldn't help but squirm under his touch.
"Helion," I murmured, feeling a rush of warmth flood my cheeks as he meticulously cleaned me. The sensation was both intimate and oddly soothing, and I found it hard to maintain my earlier annoyance. His focus was unwavering, his eyes intent on his task, and I couldn't help but appreciate how he handled me with such care.
"Relax," he said softly, glancing up at me as he continued his work. "I promise I'm not going anywhere." His gaze held mine, and I could see the genuine warmth and affection there, a stark contrast to the teasing persona he often wore.
I took a deep breath, the tension in my body slowly dissipating as I let his calm wash over me. "Okay," I finally replied, my voice barely above a whisper. I settled back against the pillows, allowing myself to enjoy this unexpected moment of intimacy. Helion finished cleaning me, his touch lingering just a bit longer than necessary, sending shivers of pleasure through me.
"There," he said, a satisfied smile gracing his lips as he tossed the cloth aside. "All clean."
I watch him discard the cloth in the laundry bin with casual grace as if he didn't just alter my entire perception of him. He moved into bed beside me, the mattress dipping with his weight. "You okay, love?" He murmured, tucking me into his carved chest. Again, with that nickname that sent a flutter through me, an endearing sensation I couldn't quite put into words.
I swallowed thickly, nodding as I sunk into his warmth, the kind comparable to the rays of the sun. "Mhm, just tired," I uttered.
"Rest, I'll be here in the morning," He murmured, his hand running down the length of my arm, tracing delicate patterns on my skin. I felt every gentle stroke like a whisper, a promise that anchored me to this newfound connection.
As I settled deeper into his embrace, the world outside faded away, and the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat became the lullaby that lulled me into sleep, a well-earned and deep one, his warmth cradling me into a blissful slumber.
I awoke at first light, my eyes fluttering open to the uncovered windows—the day court being worshippers of the sun, curtains were unheard of here, which made for a rough morning. But something about this morning, with the sun kissing my skin the way Helion had last night, it wasn't so bad.
I flip over, my back to the sun and my front to, perhaps something warmer.
He was awake, already staring at me with a slight smile on his lips. "Good morning," He whispered, his voice deepened by sleep.
"I suppose this is when I take my leave?" I murmur, but don't make any movement to leave. I didn't want to, I wanted to bathe in his sunlight for a little while longer.
He reaches over, his large hand spanning my waist and pulling me closer, encasing me into his broad shoulders and carved chest. "No, my dear, you're not going anywhere." He reassures, looking down at me with a darkened gaze, our foreheads pressed together and his nose brushing mine.
"What have I gotten myself into?" I feign annoyance, rolling my eyes.
He lets out a breathless laugh, leaning down into my neck and pressing his lips into the collection of marks he had left only last night. "You've no idea." He mumbled and I groaned playfully, grumbling a curse.
"Still pretending like you haven't completely fallen for me?" He prodded, the tip of his nose running up my neck.
"I didn't say that," I murmur, running a hand through his hair.
"So you have, fallen for me?" He teased, pulling away from my throat to peer up at me.
"Helion," I whine, my bottom lip protruding as I meet his gaze. "I can't stay here all day, now can I?"
"Who says you can't? The Day Court has no rules against me lounging in bed with beautiful women," He purred. "I've made sure of it." He added with a wink and I rolled my eyes.
"That doesn't sound like a very productive court," I remark, a smile pulling at my lips as I feel our usual banter slide back into place.
He hummed in thought, adjusting out position so his hips were between my legs, his arms wrapped around my waist, and his head on my chest. "Depends on what you consider productive." He mumbled into the cleavage of my breasts.
I scoffed, pulling at his hair and guiding him away from my chest. "You're insatiable," I grumble.
"You love it." He says with an all too confident wink.
"Maybe." I sigh, gripping his shoulder and flipping us over. "But what would your court say if they found out you were bedding your emissary?" I frown at the thought alone.
"I'm their High Lord, they can't say anything unless they wanted their tongues taken—" He suggests, while helping me into a more comfortable position, my head beside his on the pillow, our legs intertwined, my chest pressed against his. "Though I doubt any of them would say a word about you." He reassures, his hand coming to my jaw. "That is unless you wanted them to talk? If so I'd be happy to tell them the events of last night." He smirks and my cheeks glow red, heated beneath his touch.
"Modesty is one of your many virtues I see," I murmur, attempting to ignore my fluttering heartbeat.
"Of course." He gives me a look as if it was a well-known fact. "I'm the very picture of restraint and humility." He quips and I giggle, the sound making his breathing stall for a moment.
His gaze flickers down to mine, his brows slightly creased in conflict. "Stay." He whispered, leaning closer and pecking a kiss on my forehead. "Just a little longer." He added, his lips brushing about my skin.
I sighed, any lingering resolve melting away under his touch. "Just a little longer," I agreed, closing the distance between us as his lips met mine, slow and unhurried, as if the rest of the world could wait.
Warnings: Smut, fingering, vaginal sex, virgin reader, hint of oral sex, dirty talk
Word Count: ~2,8k
Rating: 18+ MDNI
Notes: Rhysand is pretty young in this, I'm not exactly sure how fae aging works but I was thinking he had left the Illyrian training camps a couple years before this and was just starting to work more in court with his dad, so he would be like 21/22 in human years. Reader is about his age, maybe a bit younger. Hope you enjoy!
Kinktober 2024 Masterlist
“Rhysand,” you whimper, your brain struggling to keep up while the Night Court heir leaves open mouthed kisses all over your neck. “I need to tell you something.”
The only sign he even heard you was the delayed hum he lets out as he's switching to the other side of your throat, marking up your soft skin, pushing one of his knees between your legs, hands grabbing at your hips, both of your scents deepening and mixing deliciously.
This isn't good. You had gotten too lost in the moment, too lost in his taste and the way his strong hands felt your body. As soon as the heir started flirting with you by the bar, you told yourself that you wouldn't miss this opportunity because of your nerves once again, but you wanted to do this right.
You call out his name again, and this time he pulls away from your neck, a bit of worry visible in his enchanting violet eyes, fighting past the haziness as he stares into yours, your hands come up to cup his cheeks, almost pulling him into you once again, hoping to get at least one more taste in case he stops like so many others have before.
“I need to tell you something,” you repeat, tongue peaking out to wet your lips.
“Do you want to stop?”
“No, that's not it,” you rush out, taking a deep breath, unable to meet his eyes as the next words tumble out of your mouth, “I'm a virgin.”
Still staring at the wall on the other side of the room, suddenly entranced by the golden pattern painted on the dark wall, you try your best to keep your heart from racing, breathing in and out slowly. You weren't sure what his exact reaction had been, apart from the way he tenses against you before relaxing once more, but old memories flooded your mind.
This wasn't the first time you had to tell someone these same words, and seeing as you were still a virgin, it was safe to say this conversation usually took a turn for the worst, whether it came as weird sympathy or cruel remarks. You didn't think Rhysand was the type to push you away simply because you were inexperienced, which was one of the reasons why you had let him take you home, still you had thought the same of every other male who came this far and they had proved you wrong rather quickly.
It had never been your intention to wait for this long, but since you had been so busy with working and studying in your younger years, the time for dating had been next to none, and by the time you realized you might have waited too long, all your peers were already in relations or at least sexually active.
“Are you sure?” His question pulls you out of your thoughts, meeting his eyes instinctively. You don't find any anger or disinterest there much to your relief, only a hint of confusion and a seriousness that hadn't been there before.
“Yes, I'm sure. I never-”
He laughs, cutting you off before you can finish. A strange feeling rises within you, humiliation starting to spread and fear making itself known once again. He leans in and pecks your lips when he notices you tensing up against him, soothing you immediately.
“I'm asking if you're sure you want me to fuck you,” he clarifies with a smirk on his face, and you relax further into him, face heating up at the mistake, “Maybe you should wait for a serious relationship or someone special.”
He meant well, you know that, but you can't help but get a bit annoyed all the same. It was because you had waited for so long that you were in this situation. Life was unpredictable and so were people, especially males, waiting around for someone special to come around could very well mean waiting for the rest of your life. Right now the fact that he wanted you as much as you wanted him and he was treating you with respect was special enough for you.
“Did you wait for someone special?”
“No,” he admits, shaking his head. “Doesn't mean you shouldn't.”
“I don't want to wait, I want you,” you say, pulling him in for a kiss, a shiver running down your spine when he simply angles his head and lets you take control, thumb rubbing slow circles over your thigh as you taste him, one hand holding the back of his neck as the other wandered down. You thought you would have to convince him, but it seems he believed you on your first try.
Rhysand pulls away right when you were about to start unbuttoning his shirt, wrapping an arm around your waist and taking a step back, winnowing you to a different room in doing so. He takes off his own shirt as you look around, unable to hide the amazement on your face at the intricate paintings and ostentatious furniture. You were so caught up in your nerves that you had almost forgotten who he was.
“We're not in my father's house if that's what you're wondering.”
You turn to look at him wide eyed, the absolute horror of getting caught by the High Lord rushing over you even though it was all in your imagination. While you were sure the rumors spreading around your home court were exaggerated, his father didn't have a particularly kind reputation even in his own court either.
“I hadn't even thought of that,” you murmur, taking his hand when he reaches for you, letting him pull you in closer with a chuckle, dropping a chaste kiss to your lips, clearly ready to end the conversation about his father. He starts walking you backwards towards the bed, watching with endearment as your eyes travel over the marks over his chest and down his shoulders, humming when you muster up the courage to reach out and trace the inked skin.
When you get to the bed, he grabs the hem of your dress, lifting it up and over your head with your help, hands falling on your waist as you kick off your shoes as well, tucking your thumbs into the band of your underwear, only hesitating for a second before pushing them down your legs and letting them fall on the floor as well, baring yourself to him completely.
Hungry eyes roam over your body, feasting on the beautiful sight in front of him, taking his time before meeting your gaze once again, your heart beating loudly in your chest at all the attention and desire you find written in the violet, goosebumps spreading over your skin as if he was actually touching you.
“I suppose I should apologize in advance,” he purred, taking a step closer to you, making you angle your neck further back to keep eye contact.
“Why?”
“Because I'm about to ruin every other male for you.”
If this was anyone else you would have probably cringed at the arrogance, but you knew the future High Lord meant every word. It was plain to see in the unbelievable amount of power rumbling under his skin, in the way he held onto you, attentive but intentional, in the raw hunger written in his eyes.
His lips were on yours before you could react, pushing you down onto the mattress gently and falling over your body, positioning himself between your legs. Strong hands caressed your breasts as he trailed kisses down your neck, going back to nibbling on the skin just as he had been doing before you interrupted him downstairs.
Fingers tangle themselves in his hair, breathy moans escaping your mouth unattended as he expertly played with your body until you were melting over the soft duvet. His hand starts traveling lower when he feels the last bit of tension leaving your body, strangely attuned to your needs even though you had just met. You spread your thighs further apart when he reaches your cunt, staring into his eyes when he pulls away from your neck in favor of watching you.
“Need to get you ready,” he whispers, coating his fingers in your wetness before circling your entrance, smirking at the way your body trembles under him.
“Please,” you whimper, hips bucking up into his fingers, desire running through your veins like you had never felt before.
Rhysand chuckles down at you, coaxing one of his fingers inside you carefully. “You don't have to beg, darling. I'll give you anything you want today,” he whispers against your lips, biting the plump flesh as needy moans escape you.
You've used your fingers to pleasure yourself before, but his were much bigger and he knew exactly how to work them in to make you see stars. Hands falling on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he adds another finger, scissoring them inside you slowly, stretching you out patiently, circling your clit with his thumb softly all the while.
It was no surprise that you were already getting close, walls fluttering around his fingers as he did his best to swallow your soft whimpers and sweet pleas, not giving you a chance to breathe as you fell apart beneath him, a shudder running through you as his name escaped your lips.
Rhysand whispers praises in your ear, dropping kisses all over your face and chest, only stopping when it didn't sound like your heart was trying to fight its way out through your chest and your eyes flutter open.
“Still with me?”
You nod up at him, hand cupping his cheek and bringing his lips down to meet yours once again, you don't think you'd ever tire of kissing him even if you did a million times. Rhysand hums into your mouth, sucking on your tongue playfully as he pulls away, getting up to take the rest of his clothes off.
Sitting up so you could watch him properly, your eyes follow his movements as if in a trance. You couldn't help but linger on his cock, taking in the tremble that runs through him as he strokes it once in front of you. Your own hands grip onto the duvet, wondering what he would feel like.
“You can touch me,” he purrs, half lidded eyes almost begging you to, groaning when your hand reaches for him, mimicking the movement.
Surprisingly, there were no signs of nerves as you stroked his cock, only desire and curiosity running through your veins. He seemed more than content with letting you play with him, even praising you when you did something he liked. It makes you feel bolder, having all this control over him of all people. Leaning forward, you take the head of his cock into your mouth, wanting to know what he felt like on your tongue, what he tasted like.
Rhysand lets out a particularly loud moan, not expecting you to do such a thing, looking down at you proudly, his characteristic smirk growing.
“We'll have to leave that for next time,” he starts, pushing your head away carefully, “I need to fuck you now, alright?”
“Next time?”
He hums, pushing you back against the bed, laying down over you, taking your bottom lip between his. “There's still a lot I can show you.”
“Oh.” You didn't know what to say. Never in a million years did you think you'd be in Rhysand's bed, let alone that he'd want you back. Wrapping your arms around him, you pull him as close as physically possible, shivering at the feeling of his hard muscles against your soft flesh, your breasts pressed against his chest, his cock weighing on your stomach.
He positions himself at your entrance, never breaking the kiss, relaxing your body with every stroke of his tongue against yours, every soft caress down your body. You do your best to breathe through it all, accommodating him between your thighs, trembling at the feeling of his hard cock grinding over your cunt, coating himself in your juices.
“Tell me if it hurts or if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, pecking your lips before continuing, “I promise I'll take care of you.”
It might sound silly but in that moment you could have followed him anywhere. The sincerity and care reflected in his eyes almost took your breath away, finding yourself staring into them like an anchor as he started pushing inside you, mouth opening in a silent moan at the foreign feeling.
You had been prepared to feel almost unbearable pain, remembering the stories your friends told you of their own first times and advice they've given you, but aside from an uncomfortable pinch and strange sensation, you could only feel the promise of pleasure.
“Good?” His voice was deeper, clearly affected as he held himself back from thrusting into your warm, tight cunt. You nod and kiss him, hoping it's answer enough, wrapping your legs around him, needing to feel him deeper. Rhysand keeps pushing his cock into you carefully, slowing down anytime your body tenses even a bit, until he finally settles inside you, his hips flush with the back of your thighs.
His hands travel all over your body, mouth still moving against yours, distracting you from any pain or discomfort that you might feel. Your own hands kept caressing up and down his back, feeling the hard muscles ripple under your touch, tracing the small scars you found along the way.
Holding each other so close it was almost impossible to see where one ended and the other began, you felt a fire lighting on the pit of your stomach, a needy pleasure spreading over your veins to every inch of your body, legs tightening around him.
“Rhysand-”
“Can I move?” He asks against your lips, forearm braced right next to your head as he grinds into you once experimentally, humming when you whimper into his mouth. “Want me to fuck you? Want to feel my cock stretching out your tight little cunt?”
“Please,” you breathe out, a long drawn out moan escaping you when he complies, pulling his cock out and pushing it back in, eyes never straying from yours.
He sets up a slow pace, going in impossibly deep, hitting all the spots that make you see stars, trailing wet kisses down your jaw and neck until he reaches your chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth as your head falls back against the duvet, eyes falling shut in bliss.
You almost want to curse yourself for waiting this long, for being too focused on your work to experience this, but you're also eternally grateful that you waited for him, there was no doubt in your mind that he was the perfect person for this. You feel him smirking against your chest, hips never stopping as he lets go of your nipple with a pop.
He lets you pull him into another short kiss, violet eyes staring into yours, hovering over your face, only a breath away as he keeps going, speeding up a bit, going harder as you struggled to keep eye contact, damn near purring at the way you trembled and your walls fluttered around his cock.
Time seemed to stop as you got lost in his eyes, in the pleasure he was bringing you, only noticing how close to the edge you already were when you were about to fall. A rushed warning tumbles past your lips as you descend into madness, his hips grinding into you as shivers run through your body and moans of his name echo around the room, every nerve on your body alive with pleasure.
He fucks you through your orgasm, grinding into your cunt and cooing at your fucked out expression until his hips start faltering, going in deeper as his own high reaches him, barely pulling out of you in time, stroking his cock maddeningly as rope after rope of cum falls on your stomach and chest, his own needy moans filling the room this time.
Chests rising and falling, both of you do your best to catch your breaths and fall back down to earth. Swallowing down the dryness in your throat, you open your eyes to find him mesmerized by the way his cum paints your torso, one hand pushing his sticky hair out of his forehead as a drop trickles down your breast.
A devious thought crosses your mind. Reaching down your body, you gather a bit of his cum with your finger, bringing it up to your lips as his eyes follow the movement, moaning at his taste and the hunger in his eyes, smirking at the curse that he lets out. You reach down again, wanting to repeat the action when he catches your hand, stopping you so he can do it himself, feeding you his cum on his own fingers, cursing as you clean them up happily.
“I think I'm going to keep you, darling,” he declares, eyes fixed on your mouth as you lick your lips.
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” he breathes out, leaning down to kiss you. “You're all fucking mine now.”
Summary: The Inner Circles dinner turned out far different than anyone could have anticipated.
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: Angst
─────────────────────────
The Tavern is in chaos. All of your coworkers, spring from one side of the building to the next. Cleaning things that you didn’t even think needed cleaning. Moving chairs and tables this way and that.
Yet you don’t have a clue what it’s all for. Well, it’s because ‘someone important’ is coming in, as Benny had said two days ago. You just didn’t know who, you were being kept out of the loop, as per usual. Shoulders slump at that realisation. Sliding into one of the stools at the bar, chin resting on your hand, silently watching them fuss and argue about minuscule things.
Odessa’s black hair swished as she barked orders at Oberon and Tarian. The two of them grumble but follow her lead nonetheless. The absolute worst part was the fact that Dominic’s hulking form was nowhere to be seen. He never misses a shift and does not show up late. Made even worse because it’s already dark out. Shifting your gaze to the clock, and see it’s already 8:00. His and Benny’s absence was starting to stress you out.
A damp cloth gets thrown onto the counter in front of you, startling you from your thoughts. Swiping a hand down your face to remove any droplets that splashed onto you. You scowl up at the culprit, finding Adem grimacing. “Sorry.” Quiet and breathy as if he was trying to hold in a laugh. “No, you’re not.” Turning your head back to the scene behind you, a snort escapes him at your words. Choosing to ignore that, “Do you know what’s going on?”
Gaze meets his once again, finding him avoiding eye contact. “…No.” Too long a pause for you not to notice. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Yes you do.” an accusatory finger points in his face, which he slaps away. Face scrunching at the accusation, “Firstly get that out of my face. Secondly, fine, I do. But I can’t tell you.” he replies with an exasperated huff.
Brows furrow once again, “Why not?” Adem goes to reply but gets interrupted by two large hands clapping down on his shoulders, a wince leaving him. Dominic's scowling face appears over his shoulder, meeting your eyes. “Why aren’t you two working?” a brow raising at you. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning the glassware?”
You release a frustrated groan but move behind the bar. Grabbing a couple glasses to shine, “What’s going on?” voice taking an irritated tone. Sick of your questions being ignored.
Their eyes track something behind you, turning and following their gaze, you find Benny leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over her chest. You raise a brow questioningly, and she reciprocates it. Before you can repeat your question again. “Break time, y/n.”
You slam the glass you were shining on the bar harder than intended, causing all eyes to shift to you. “You’ll find out after your break.” Benny’s tone holds no argument.
“Fine.” You say through gritted teeth, and aggressively pull your waist apron off and shove it into her arms before you walk into the kitchen.
Once you’re out of hearing distance, Dominic gives Benny an incredulous look, “She’s going to be upset once she finds out.” A heavy sigh exits her, “I know. Let’s just finish cleaning up. They should be here in about 20 minutes.”
Dominic and Adem nod and turn to help the others, and Benny runs a hand down her face defeatedly.
─
The Inner Circle make their way towards Benny’s Bar, The boys leading the way. Elain and Lucien had kindly offered to look after Nyx for the night, giving his parents the night to relax. Amren also couldn’t make it, since she is away in the Summer Court. The family all dressed comfortably since the bar isn’t exactly the fanciest place.
Azriel’s hands wringing together as he walks behind them. A bad feeling sat heavy in his stomach. He shoves his hands in his pockets and pushes away that feeling as much as he can. He typically prides himself on being a relatively calm and confident male, but that calm is slipping into nervousness with every step closer to the tavern. Mor’s and Cassian’s excited voices only seem to make it worse.
The bell above the door rings loudly in his ears, as they all step into the Bar. His assessing eyes track each patron, and It surprises Az that no one even bats an eye, completely ignoring the big group that had just arrived.
Benny bounds over, a beaming smile on her face, that the lot of them reciprocate easily. Nesta and Feyre, having never met the blue female, eye her curiously, but grin regardless.
“Welcome! I’m Benny.” Introducing herself to the two females, who introduce themselves in return. “Let’s get you all seated.” Her smile never left her face.
Benny leads them to a more secluded corner of the room to give them as much privacy as the Inner Circle can get. And just like Benny had said a couple of days ago, two large tables were shoved together. Once everyone is seated Benny hands all of them some old menus that had hardly been used in decades, “I’ll leave you all to take a look, then I’ll come back and take your orders.” The group thanks her as she stalks away.
“She’s lovely.” Feyre voices to her mate next to her, while opening her menu.
“You should have met her when she first opened this place.” Mor snickers. “She wasn’t our biggest fan at first, but we managed to get her to warm up to us,” Cassian says with a proud grin, which Rhys snorts at.
Azriel peers over his shoulder, hardly paying attention to the conversation in front of him. His nerves spike once again when his shadows start darting around, whispering to him about who is nearby.
As he tries to shoo them away so he can see for himself, a deep booming voice comes from behind the bar. “Archeron! Get your ass behind the bar!”
The whole group's head snapped in the direction to find the source of those foul words. Nesta and Feyres' faces are set in a look of outrage, and the boys look about ready to kill. But as soon as they go to do something about it, a familiar head pops out from the kitchen door. You. Everyone’s mouths immediately snap shut.
Your own face is set in irritation. “What?” You growl back at the deep voice. Azriel’s dark brows raise a fraction, his gaze turning back towards his family, mouths dropped to the floor, watching you make your way over to him, while quickly trying to tie an apron around your waist. Az’s shadows now trailing across the wood flooring towards you, and he struggles to reign them back in.
Nesta's attention whirls on Cassian. “Is this why we’re having dinner here?” She snaps at him. Cassian shuts his mouth as he meets her eyes, “No, I had no idea.” His brows pull together as he turns back to look in your direction, at the same time Benny stops by Dominic and you. His frown deepens, “She did though.”
A slender figure obscures their view of you all of a sudden “I’ll be your server for the night.” The person's voice. Morrigan’s face lights up, “Odessa?” She questions, leaning back in her seat to get a better look at her. “Hi, Mor,” Odessa replies with a chuckle. Her head turns back behind her, towards you having a stare off with the male in front of you. You don’t know that they’re here, she realises as she scratches down their order.
─
Glaring at Dominic, who tilts his head towards the liquor, then throws a rag at your face. His silent way of telling you to hurry up. “I still had ten minutes left of my break.” you hiss, ripping the cloth off your face.
He shrugs, turning his attention back to the glass in front of him, “It’s busy.” You’re about to whip him with the towel in your hands before Benny’s blue form leans against the bar top in front of you. Raising a brow at the scowl on your face. “We have customers waiting.”
A rumbling laugh comes from your right, and a bottle of alcohol is shoved into your hands so hard you have to take a step back. You take a deep breath at the smug look on his face, he then hands you a note with a drink order scribbled on it in Odessa’s handwriting.
Without another word, you read the order, and step up to the shelf, take six shot glasses, and place them down on a tray, lined up. You pluck the lid off the liquor bottle and bump-pour the shots. Practically slamming the bottle down once done.
A low whistle is heard from the kitchen doorway, spinning on your heel, your eyes narrow at the blonde. Oberon has the gall to smirk at you. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Smirk widening as your face twisted further in frustration. Benny steps in before you can blow up, hand sliding onto your shoulder to try to get your attention. However, a flash of mousy brown hair slides in behind the male in front of you.
Tarian’s smile is almost smug as he peers over your shoulder, his focus catching on something, and he elbows the male next to him in the ribs, Oberon snorts at the observation. With a huff, you turn your head to see what is so interesting and find a dark shadow swirling by your shoulder.
All frustration leaves your body, knowing who it belongs to. Eyes widening, and panic setting in. Why is it here? Is he here? Are they all here? Your gaze lands back on Benny next to you. Who’s expression softens considerably upon noticing the flash of hurt that crosses your features.
Now you finally know who they were getting the place ready for.
Hesitantly looking around the room, and immediately lock eyes with hazel. Then the rest of your family, whose attention quickly turns to anything else, trying to make it look like they weren’t just gawking at you. You release a shaky exhale and push Benny's hand off your shoulder. “A bit of warning would have been nice.” You grit out. A guilty smile tugged at her lips. “I thought you would freak out and run.”
You can’t help but gape at her words. “Name one time I’ve done that.” She gives you a look, and you're reminded once again of how you started working in the bar in the first place. “Oh piss off,” you grumble before going back over to Dominic.
Choosing to ignore the fact that you have six pairs of eyes currently tracking your every move, you push a tray of shots to the edge of the counter. “Dessa.” Calling her attention away from a female sitting on one of the bar stools.
You point at the tray and she reluctantly leaves the female’s side to get the drinks. Giving you a wink as she heads in the direction of the large group. You send her a crude gesture as she turns, pulling a snort from the bulky male next to you. “Be nice.”
You throw the rag that you had been holding, at him. “You're lucky I didn’t whip you with that.” Turning towards a customer waiting to order. Shuffling comes from behind you, and in your peripheral you see Tarian ushering Oberon back into the kitchen.
Benny lingered by the doorway as well before following the two males. An unexpected breath of relief escapes you now that her eyes aren’t on you. Disregarding that realisation you keep yourself busy with pouring drinks, keeping to yourself for the rest of the night.
─
Azriel hasn’t taken his gaze off of you since you entered the room. Though that isn’t unusual for him. He had caught himself doing so since your first interaction in the human realm. An invisible force guiding his attention to you constantly, however, he always brushed it off as your charming personality. As far as he knows, you never seem to notice.
Scarred fingers twitch as he watches you move, strung so tight it almost looks painful. Trying with every fibre of your being to ignore the group of people who let you down. He let you down. He should’ve said something to them. He thought they would remember on their own. He was wrong.
He should’ve told you that he remembered. That could’ve helped at least a little, you would know that you’re not an afterthought, that he sees you. But he was a coward. Didn’t want you to think of him in that way, because it's easier for him. Did you end up even opening the present he got you? He wouldn’t blame you if you threw it out.
He gets pulled out of his thoughts by plates being cleared from the table. A red-haired male doing so as quickly and quietly as he could. How long had his self-deprecating thoughts distracted him? That question is answered by the Inner Circle standing from their seats and grabbing their jackets. Hardly conversing.
As Azriel starts walking out of the building behind his family, he looks over his shoulder, he sees you taking off your waist apron, muttering something to Benny while heading through the kitchen. A jacket hanging from your arm. He loses sight of you very briefly as the Tavern's door closes behind him, but then sees you exit out of the bar’s back door.
The rest of the group doesn’t seem to notice, already ambling in the direction of the River House, so he slips away over to where you’re standing.
He’s silent as he does so. He can tell that you know he’s there if the way you tense up is anything to go by. Stopping a good distance away from you to help make you feel like you’re not being cornered.
The silence that passes between you feels loud. “You didn’t seem surprised when you all realised I work here.” Pulling your jacket tighter around yourself, keeping your gaze forward. “Everyone else looked like they’d seen a ghost.”
Azriel studied your side profile, moonlight highlighting each feature, trying to decipher what you are truly feeling from your quiet, monotonous voice. He remembers you being far more expressive when talking. However, he knows three months can truly change someone. Especially with the way you were treated.
At his extended silence, you finally turn your head towards him, and the uncomfortable yet questioning look you give him prompts him to finally speak. “I saw you with Benny at the Cafe two days ago.” A heavy sigh leaves you at that. “Why didn’t you tell them?” He frowns at your question.
”Why would I tell them?” Now it's your turn to frown. “Because they’re your family. Plus work for Feyre and Rhysand. Doesn’t that mean you need to tell them everything?” Azriel shuffles on his feet, wings twitching at his back, shadows crawling across the pavements towards you, as if wanting to comfort you. Trying and failing to reign them in, He turns his attention to the Inner Circles disappearing forms, hardly in view anymore.
You follow his gaze “Not everything.” Brows pulling together, many questions on the tip of your tongue, but he continues before you can voice them. “Most things yes, but after what happened,” turning back to look at you, “You’re happy here. You should be able to keep a safe space. You found that with them.” He tilts his head to the Bar back door behind you, a curl falling over his forehead as he does so. Another sigh leaves you. “They all came anyway. So that doesn’t matter anymore.”
Thick brows pull together at the defeated tone of your voice. Opening his mouth to say something, but decides against it. You notice it though, deciding to ignore it when he stays silent.
A roaring laugh from the kitchen pulls both of your attention. A long exhale escapes past your lips. “I should get back to work.” Grabbing the door handle, almost hesitantly. “They miss you.” Azriel all but blurts out. Needing you to know. He cringed internally at the volume he spoke, not intending it to come out as a near yell.
You scoff. “If they missed me they would have tried to find and talk to me.” His shadows move sporadically, giving away his inner turmoil. “They wanted to give you time.” He tries to reason.
A sound of disbelief comes from you as soon as the words leave his mouth. “For three months? They wanted to give me time for three months?” Looking up at the stars to calm yourself. “For all I know they just forgot about me. It's not like it’d be the first time.” Azriel doesn't like the tone you’re using but understands where your anger and irritation are coming from.
Letting out a long exhale when he doesn’t respond. “I really should get back in there. I hope you enjoyed your night Azriel.” The sincerity of your tone makes Azriel’s shoulders slump, but he nods as you slip back inside. Leaving him alone with an uncomfortable silence. His shadows circled around him in frustration, whispering about the disappointed look on your features as you made your way back through the kitchen. They want him to go back in and keep talking to you, to try to get you to smile.
He’ll try again another day. Give you some time to collect your thoughts and feelings and accept the fact that they all now know where you are. No guarantee that they won't just show up when you need time to breathe. To turn your safe space into a place they visit often.
Maybe he can convince the Inner Circle to have a civil, grown-up conversation with you. Maybe you could get them to understand that how they treated you has affected you more than they could ever understand. That they hurt you. That you deserve better. You’re not a child anymore, you've been through stuff too.
He wants you to be happy.
With that thought, he jumps into the sky and flies home. But he’s finally realising that home feels different without you.
─────────────────────────
a/n: There might be spelling mistakes. I’m sorry this took so long, I couldn’t get this right for a long time, and I’m still not the happiest with it, but I can always fix it in the future. The family confrontation will be in the next part. I’m sorry that the story is taking a while. I promise that the actual love story with reader and Az will show up really, really soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this regardless. <3
Summary: Months after a horrible birthday, you’re happy with new friends, but soon you’ll find out that you have to face your family once again.
Word count: 1.9k
Warnings: Angst, Fluff
─────────────────────────
It’s been three months and they haven’t come to see you. Not a single one of them. So either they don’t care and haven’t looked for you, or they just can’t find you. However, that’s a stupid thought because they could send Azriel, he is the spymaster after all.
You have to keep telling yourself you don’t care because it's easier that way. Thinking about it for too long would cause you to spiral. One that you’re not sure you could get out of.
On the bright side of all of this, you’ve made friends with your coworkers, and know a few regulars by name.
Benny has been the most helpful through it all. Was there even when you were being stubborn and trying to pull away completely. Trying to isolate yourself so nothing and no one can hurt you again.
The first week after you had moved into the apartment above the bar—which isn’t nearly as bad as it sounds—she taught you how to pour drinks, what bottle is what on the shelf, how to clean glasses efficiently, but best of all, how to deal with all kinds of fae who decide to wander in. The worst of which were creepy males who couldn’t take no for an answer.
Benny kept your mind busy, doing anything and everything she could, giving you advice despite not asking for it. One of the most freeing feelings was no guilt when you went shopping for the first time since being on your own, now you don’t feel like you owe anyone when you spend a single dollar.
Your coworkers were the next best thing for getting your mind away from your family. Odessa—the black-haired female—is probably your favourite person other than Benny. She looked quite intimidating at first but once you got to know her she was a sweetheart—kind and funny. Quick to make you feel at home. She is also a busybody, not that you complain.
Speaking of Odessa, she’s standing in front of you, her hip leaning on the edge of the bar, animatedly moving her hands as she ranted about her latest experience with ‘irritating males’ as she so kindly put it.
“Gods, then he tried to buy me a drink even though I told him I wasn’t interested again.” Exasperated, she finishes her story with a scoff and an eye-roll. You purse your lips and lift your guilty gaze to meet hers, the female tilts her head at your expression, and her mouth drops open, “Were you not listening to me?” she exclaims.
You place the glass that you were drying down on the bar top. A heavy breath leaving you and an apologetic look on your face, “I was Dessa, I promise. I just got in my head.” Mumbling the last part. A playful glare graces her features, and then a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, “You're lucky you’re good at your job. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be so nice.” A snort escapes you at that.
Just as you were about to retort, a hand harshly claps your shoulder, “She is good at her job, but she won’t be if she keeps getting distracted by you. Now go on.” The deep voice shoos her away. Frowning in return, she grabs a tray of drinks and stalks off with a crude gesture thrown over her shoulder at him.
You turn to see scruffy brown hair and tanned skin—Dominic. who is the biggest and most intimidating male you’ve ever seen, also an older male, with faint lines on his scowling face. He still won't tell you how old he is. You'd have to guess he's older than the males in the inner circle.
He raises his eyebrows at you. Flushing slightly upon realising that he must have asked you a question, while you were lost in thought. Again.
A sharp exhale passes through his lips, waving a hand in exasperation, “Can you please go check on the boys in the back? They're taking far too long to just bring out a couple of crates of booze.” With a curt nod, you turn and head into the kitchen.
Scanning the room, you find the two males you were sent to find. Oberon and Tarian, chatting away while seated in the corner. You arch a brow at the sight, arms crossing over your chest. The huff you let out pulls their attention to you, a friendly smile from Tarian and a feline smirk from Oberon sent your way.
“Dominic wants to know what’s taking you so long to get the new crates of liquor.” Grimaces shift their expressions. They share a look before turning back to you. Oberon's cropped blonde hair falls across his forehead at the movement, blue eyes meeting your own. Lips pulled into his previous smirk. “Wasn't Adem supposed to help?”
An incredulous look twists your features. “Just do it.” You grumble before turning to leave. “y/n.” Tarian’s raspy voice grabs your attention. Pale skin glimmering in the soft lights, “Cover for us?” mousy-coloured curls bouncing slightly with a tilt of his head. Grey eyes glittered with mischief.
You scoff before you exit the kitchen. “No. I got in trouble last time.” snickers are heard from behind you at that, though you do hear bottles clink together, indicating they had finally decided to do their job.
Blue hair flashes across your vision, Benny stepping into your path. “Break time.” voice with a singsong tone. Just as you're about to argue that you had your last one not too long ago, she cuts in. “Your last break was about five hours ago.” her arms folded over her chest.
Eyes widening before giving her a small defeated nod, you follow her to the bar's entrance, passing Adem on the way. The red-haired male gives you a smile, which you return as you pass through the door.
─
The inner circle has been miserable, sulking over every word you had yelled at them. Truly realising their own mistakes soon after the door had slammed closed behind them. Not going to look for you, with the excuse of wanting to give you space. Three months of space isn’t enough it seems.
Azriel immediately sent a few shadows after you to make sure you’d be okay. Well as okay as one could be after a horrific birthday. Those same shadows hadn’t left your side since. You haven’t noticed them yet, but it was only a matter of time before you did. Swirling dark tendrils aren’t exactly the most discrete thing when one is walking in broad daylight.
He had felt horrible that he hadn’t said anything when you looked at him that night. He just couldn’t bring himself to say that he was the only one who didn’t forget your day. Or the fact he had gotten you a present and hadn’t given it to you. The day after you left, he had given the present to Benny to give to you, which she did, but fulfilled his wish to not say it was from him. Already Feeling bad enough for not giving you it himself.
Walking down the cobbled streets of Valaris was something he and his brothers had done for years, though since Rhys had been crowned high lord, it was rare for them to get that time. The three of them looking for a place to maybe have lunch, or just sit and have a nice chat. Any excuse to spend just a couple more hours together. Their mates had sent them off so they could have a ‘girls’ day’ at home, which is most likely a cover to plan how to make it up to you.
A pointy elbow jabs Azriel in the ribs, pulling him out of his thoughts with a pained grunt. Glaring up at his brother, Cassian only replies with a snort. “What was that for?” Azriel grits out, hand rubbing his side.
“You’re brooding. No brooding on boys’ day.” At his words, a chuckle escapes from Rhysand who’s on Cassian’s otherside.
“I am not brooding.” Azriel grumbles. “Fine then, moping.” Cassian’s words have that same teasing tone as when they’re sparring, trying to rile him up as much as possible
Opening his mouth to growl out a retort, shining blue hair flashes from across the street at a Cafe, catching Cass’ attention. “Benny!” His booming voice yells towards her.
Head snapping in the direction that her name came from. a beaming smile stretching across her features seeing the three boys.
Before Rhys or Az can pull him back, Cassians already bounding over to her, pulling her into a hug before she could take a seat at her table. A laugh bubbles from her chest, hugging him back.
Joining them, Rhys grins at her, And Azriel gives her a nod of acknowledgement. “Long time no see. How’ve you boys been?” her smile still clear in her voice.
“We’ve been great, how about you? Are you having a late lunch all by yourself?” Rhysand’s voice has his usual charming lilt to it.
“I’ve been good too. Not alone, my friend is in the bathroom.” Azriel’s attention is pulled towards the bathroom door as if he could tell who her friend was from where he is standing. “Haven't seen you all in nearly a century. Busy with mates now I assume.” more a question than a statement.
“Yup,” Cassian enthusiastically pops the ‘p’ “you need to meet them, you’ll love them.” A loud, over exaggerated gasp gets pulled from him. “We should all go to your bar for dinner and drinks.” Beaming, likes it’s his best idea he’s ever had.
Benny’s own smile grows in response. “I'd love that. I’ll even reserve your old favourite table. Though I might have to pull two together considering how much your family’s grown.
a bark of excited laughter is pulled from Cassian. Rhys pulls him away before he can distract her from her lunch any more than he already has. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s leave you to it, and we’ll see you in a couple days?”
“I’ll save a couple tables for you.” She embraces each of them, before pulling away and waving them off, to finally sit down.
They depart with smiles and waves, then head off to find a place for them to have their lunch. Azriel can’t help but look over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of who she’s with. Before they round a corner and are out of sight, he sees exactly who it is. You.
─
You exit the toilet and make your way over to the table Benny had chosen outside. The food and coffee you had picked now waiting for you.
As you pull your chair out, she turns her gaze back to you, a grin gracing her cerulean features. Deciding to ignore the mischievous undertones of that look, you pick up the pastry sitting in front of you and take a bite.
“We're going to be busy in a couple of days. A couple tables have been booked.” She speaks as if it’s an afterthought.
Your brows pull together at her words. “Since when did we reserve tables?” you inquire, never having heard that was a possibility for the bar. “We don't. They’re just special guests.” her voice light as she picks up her coffee, signalling that she won’t be answering any more questions.
Glancing in the direction that held her attention previously, you find nothing. whoever it was must’ve been important for Benny to change her usual routine with the bar. choosing not to dwell on it for too long, you turn back to the female in front of you, to enjoy your lunch.
─────────────────────────
a/n: There might be some spelling mistakes. I’m sorry for taking so long to post this, and i know this isn’t exactly the part two you guys wanted, but the story needs to be built up just a little bit. I promise the next part won’t take as long, and there will absolutely be more interactions with the inner circle. Thank you for your patience, I have had low energy because I’ve been quite sick, and haven’t been able to get this to a place where I want to post it. I hope you liked it anyway. <3
Summary: Your birthday felt ruined until you met someone new.
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: Angst
─────────────────────────
They forgot. They forgot that it’s your birthday.
You really couldn’t blame them considering they all have their own lives and issues to deal with, but it didn’t make it any easier.
The main problem you have isn’t really that they had forgotten your birthday, it’s actually that they had celebrated every other holiday and birthday no matter what was going on. They dropped everything for everyone. Except for you.
So to say it hurts is an understatement. The forgotten sister, as per usual. Always left behind and pushed to the side. You suppose it makes sense considering you’re the youngest of your sisters. Always pushed to the side, whether it was intended or not.
For the last three years, things had gone from bad to worse, to just about perfect for your family. But not for you, you felt like a burden. Birthdays are supposed to be special, to celebrate whose day it was. It certainly didn’t feel like it right now.
Wandering through the River House, not a single soul in sight. Everything felt too quiet. No breakfast being made, no presents—not that you expected to get any—and none of your sisters to greet even. They were who you wanted to see right now.
Instead, you make your way to the kitchen and grab an apple instead. As you were about to leave to go for a walk, you hear loud laughing coming from the front door. In walks your sisters, their mates following close behind.
As they make their way to split off from each other, you only get a few smiles and greetings. Nothing else. That’s how you know they have forgotten. So you give them a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Once they’re all out of the doorway, and not giving you a second thought, you take that as your sign to finally go for your walk. The walls now feel incredibly claustrophobic.
What you don’t notice is a certain pair of hazel eyes studying you as you tug on your coat, and pull the door open. The spymaster’s calculated gaze, noticing everything no matter how discrete you think you’re being. His shadows agitatedly circled him as you passed the threshold.
─
Dress brushing the cobblestone streets of Valaris as you stroll down and take in your surroundings, relishing in the fresh air and sunlight warming that previous coldness you felt from the negative start to the day.
Walking past shops, bakeries, and cafes. Passing an oh-so-familiar bookstore before doubling back to head into. You think that maybe browsing for an hour or so could help brighten your already tiring day. Without realising you’re already ambling your way over to the shelves.
Picking up many books, reading their synopsis, and then putting them back in their previous places, you finally find a book that interests you. Feyre’s money isn’t mine. A sour taste fills your mouth at that thought, so you decide against getting it.
Exiting the lovely bookstore with a wave to the cashier you think it might be time to make your way back to the house. Maybe you’ll be able to fix up some food once you’re back. Mindlessly dawdling you through the crowded streets, then deciding to take the long way. There’s no need to be home any earlier than needed.
Moving by stores you’d never seen or heard of before, peering in through the windows, but not daring to go in. A sign catches your eye, ‘Benny’s Bar’ read above the doorway. From the outside, it looks similar to one that you remember in the human lands, just not nearly as beat up. A drink or two couldn’t hurt, hopefully, they’re not too expensive.
You enter, not giving yourself enough time to argue, and the strong scent of alcohol quickly invades your senses. Ignoring it you meander over to the bar.
The interior is much nicer than what you see from the street, with dark wood floors, and the walls a deep shade of green. The same wood as the flooring extends up the wall behind the bar, lined with long shelves, and all kinds of liquor. The tables scattered around the room were well worn, in a charming and homey way, with mismatched chairs pushed under them. Old paintings that seem to have been passed down for generations are pinned up around the room. The lights dim but not dingy, giving the place a warm glow without being too bright.
Passing by the fae, face down on the tables, and loud groups either brainlessly arguing with one another or laughing their asses off, either way, their conversations were unintelligibly slurred. Glancing at the clock hung above the door frame, you wonder just how long they had to have been since it’s only two o’clock. A loud breath escapes you, registering that you’re joining them. Disregard that thought and slide onto a stool regardless of the depressing realisation.
You finally grant yourself a minute to have a proper look at the people working. A large, muscular, older-looking male is behind the bar pouring out drinks, while also barking orders at a couple of younger males out the back, in the kitchen. A tall, black-haired female, her face lips set in a firm line, as she saunters around the room, handing out the drinks the larger male poured. Another stocky male makes his way around the room to wipe down tables and booths, while also pushing in chairs and picking up dirty plates and empty glasses
But the fae who sticks out to you is a female with deep blue skin, and hair a darker navy shade as she walks by some large cabinets with a heavy-looking crate in her arms. Once she notices your presence, a charming smile stretches across her lips and makes her way over to you. Your lips quirk up in response.
“Hi, Love, what can I get you?” her voice has a lovely rasp to it. However, your face heats for an entirely different reason, not having any experience with taverns in general, but also not much with alcohol either.
Contemplating your answer, your hands wringing together in your lap, “What do you recommend?” your words come out softer than intended. Her smile softens slightly, and it makes you tense up, now feeling out of place. “Don’t drink much?”
Her words cause a soft huff to pass your lips. “Not really.” your shoulders slump forward, but her smile brightens once again as she heads over to the alcohol-filled shelves that line the wall behind her. Grabbing a bottle of clear liquid, and a tall glass. She takes the lid off with a pop, and pours out a small amount, slowly sliding the glass across to you. She watches you, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
You pick up the drink, lift it to your nose, and instantly recoil. The smell felt like it singed your nose hairs. A soft chuckle escapes the female's lips. “I wouldn’t recommend sniffing it,” she leans over the counter as if to tell you a secret, “It’s easier if you down it in one go.”
With a slight nod, you lift the glass to your lips, follow her advice a down it in one go. It burns your throat as it slides down, and your nose scrunches slightly in response. “Didn’t taste easier.” a snort escapes her. “Unfortunately this bar doesn’t have any of the fancy sweet drinks that others do.” Your lips curve up. “I’m Benny by the way.” The Owner. Your grin grows a little and you give her your name.
─
Hours later you’re in the same spot, conversation is flowing easily with Benny—who hasn’t left her spot behind the bar since you entered. Refill your drinks when needed. The alcohol is easier with every drink you have. The bad morning your day started with is like a distant memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see It’s now dark out.
Sloppily turning to the clock to see the time—11:30—then back to face the female in front of you, now aware of the fact that you had spent your entire birthday in a tavern, you let out a long sigh. Benny tilts her head to the side from the sound, but as she opens her mouth to speak you beat her to it.
“It’s my birthday.” you blurt out, words coming out slurred, but you brush it off and continue. “My entire family forgot. Didn’t even wish me a happy birthday before I left the house.” a small sniffle followed your words.
Benny frowns. “I know who your family is, honey,” you stiffen and she resumes. “You never know, they could have a surprise birthday waiting for you.” trying to lighten your mood at least a little bit, and it makes you straighten briefly before your shoulders curl inward once again. Not believing her words. And by the way, Benny shifts on her feet, you know she doesn’t even believe it.
“Unlikely,” you mumble. Finger swirling around the edge of your empty glass. Benny lets out a huff, tapping her fingers on the wooden bar before she turns around and grabs a different bottle from the shelf, a rich brown one. She also grabs another glass before turning back to you.
She pours a generous amount into both glasses, and rather than bringing it straight to her mouth she holds it in the air, seemingly waiting for you to do the same. So you mirror her movement. She clinks her glass with yours, “To you! Happy Birthday, Love.” Both of you finish your drinks in one go.
“Thank you, Benny.” Looking over your shoulder another sigh exits you. “I should head back now.” Turning back to her. She nods.
As you slide off your seat, swaying as you straighten your dress, readying to leave. “If you need a place to stay, I have an apartment upstairs that needs an owner.” she offers just as you are about to turn away. “I know I don't know your current situation, but a new place to stay might do you some good.” A smile tugs at your lips.
“I don’t have money to pay for it,” You reply. Yes, your sister and her mate have more money than one ever could imagine, you still couldn’t help but feel like you’d owe them if you used any more of it than just drinks you had today.
Benny dismisses your words with a wave of her hand. “Don't worry about that, I have an opening to work here.” she gestures to the bar. “If you don't, I could always help you find a different one.”
Your smile softened slightly. “Thank you, Benny,” repeating your words from earlier. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
And with that, you wave her goodbye and exit the tavern. Swaying and stumbling drunkenly over the uneven cobblestone streets, as your mind churns with the thoughts that your family are most likely gathered in the living room, after sharing a lovely family dinner. They’ll probably judge you for the fact that you had a couple of drinks too many, that thought makes you feel a little queasy.
─
After a long time of manoeuvring your way through the nearly empty streets, you finally find yourself staring at the front door of the River House. Dread fills you thinking about what kind of conversation you’re about to have.
With a heavy sigh, you push the door open, stepping inside. The first thing you hear is their loud laughter. The door closes behind you louder than expected, and you grimace. The voices quiet down as you stumble your way towards the sitting room. From the doorway you see all heads turn to you. Everyone’s here. Even Lucien and Varian are seated next to their partners.
“Y/N!” Feyres's cheery voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Your back.” You step closer, her nose flares subtly, and her smile falters. But Nesta’s the one who says something. “You smell like a Tavern.” Her tone is sharp enough to make you flinch.
“I had a couple of drinks.” your reply words slurred, shrugging your shoulders drunkenly, and an uncomfortable silence follows.
“More like the whole bottle.” Mor seemingly trying to lighten the mood, her joke makes a couple of people snicker.
“We didn’t even notice you were gone.” Amren deadpans. Heads whipped in her direction at her statement, ready to scold her. “It’s true. Don’t even try to deny it.” Her voice is harsh.
Your brows pull together at the fact that no one tried to argue, and your nonchalance falters, giving way to frustration and anger at the entirety of the situation and your ruined day.
“It’s my Birthday.” your voice a near growl. Everyone’s eyes widen both at your admission and at your unusual tone of voice. Usually so soft-spoken, and gentle. The complete opposite of right now. Another disappointment.
“I was willing to chalk it up as stress from your own lives.” Your breathing ragged. “But you've been sitting here for hours and like Amren said, you didn’t even realise I was gone for something as small as a family dinner!”
Your eyes flit around the room as you continue, “Oh, and not to mention the fact that you have all taken the time to celebrate every other holiday and birthday! I guess my day isn't important enough to remember compared to the festivities that hardly even get recognized by the general public!” You practically spat your words.
Now you take a moment to look around at them. Feyre’s face is contorted in guilt, Elain looks as if she might cry, Nesta’s staring at her lap, and everyone else is either wide-eyed or unable to meet your gaze.
The lack of response further fuels your rage. The only person who looks as if they might say something is Azriel. His usually stoic features falter, but he hesitates. A look crossing his face that you couldn’t quite make out. Not wanting to linger on that any longer, you turn your gaze back to the rest of them.
You scoff. “Nothing?” Looking up at the ceiling, too many emotions are warring in you and are far too much for you to handle in your drunken state.
At the extended silence, you turn on your heel and make your way back to the entrance. No one even calls after you. That's enough for you to grasp the fact that you can't stay here. Not anymore.
The door slamming behind you, rings throughout the house. It didn’t matter as the cool nighttime air slammed into you, the lingering effects of the alcohol wearing off entirely.
Your arms wrap around yourself to keep the cold out as you amble down the streets of the City of Starlight, the stars shining above you now not bringing the same comfort as they once did. Once again you find yourself outside a familiar building. Making your way inside, Instantly finding who you unconsciously were looking for.
Benny turns towards the entrance as the door shuts, her face falls as she takes in your expression. She quickly makes her way to her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and leading you to a more private corner of the tavern.
“Is your offer still on the table?” Your voice is hoarse and watery. Benny gives a nod, ushering you passed the kitchen and up a set of stairs.
A new place. Already feeling more at home than with those who are supposed to care for you.
─────────────────────────
a/n: I know there isn’t any interactions between Az and Reader yet but there will be! This didn’t come out exactly how I wanted, so I might came back to this at some point, and there might also be some spelling mistakes. The editing took longer than expected so sorry for the delay. I’ll try and get a part two out as soon as I can, hope you enjoyed. <3
Summary: Ever since Feyre arrived at Velaris, they have only ever known Azriel a stoic and mostly serious. But once his wife comes home, she sees a different side to him.
A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist
•••
Feyre watched as Azriel stood by the window. His shadows moved over his shoulders and around his ear as if whispering something to him. The expression on Azriel’s face was his same neutral one that only ever seemed to change the smallest amount. And only ever in the presence of the Inner Circle and even then there would only be a small hint of a smile.
It was late at night and everyone was enjoying a relaxing night with a few bottles of Rhys’s expensive alcohol. So far, Azriel hadn’t moved from his place at the window, his back was rigid as if he was expecting something, though that was the only indicator that he was. His face was his usual stoicism, giving nothing away.
“Az, are you ever going to get away from that window anytime soon?” Cassian complained.
Azriel turned his attention to Cassian and scowled. “I’m busy.”
“Not busy enough to spend time with the people you love,” Cassian teased.
“Az, sit down, you won’t miss anything,” Rhys chimed in.
With a final look through the window, Azriel walked over to the rest of the Inner Circle and sat in the armchair. His back was tense and he was not fully relaxed. Ever since Feyre had known him he had always been somewhat alert to everything.
While everyone continues with the card game, Feyre couldn’t help but pay more attention to Azriel than to the game. Like Feyre, Azriel didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the game either. Instead he stared at the table in front of him completely lost in thought.
Elain, who was sitting on the floor beside Mor, looked up to Azriel. “It’s your turn,” she said.
“Oh,” Azriel said before picking a card out of his hand and placing it on top of the pile.
“That isn’t a card you can even put on top,” Cassian complained.
Azriel rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? You change the rules when you’re losing anyway.”
“I do not!” Cassian exclaimed. “I take this game seriously.”
“Until you are losing,” Nesta mumbled under her breath.
Cassian began to argue back, clearly becoming outnumbered in his argument. Feyre only watched on with amusement.
However everything was quickly interrupted by a new voice, one Feyre had never heated before, cut through the argument.
“I leave you all alone for a few years and everything goes to shit?”
Everything goes silent as everyone stares at the beautiful female who had just entered the room. Before Feyre could even process everything, Azriel threw his cards back down on the table and rushed up to the female.
The female giggled in delight as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her and swung her around. Feyre looked at her two sisters, each of them held the same expression she did. Confusion.
What shocked Feyre the most about the situation was the bright and wide smile stretching across Azriel’s face. She had only noticed now that he had dimples.
“I missed you so much,” Azriel mumbled.
“It has only been a few months for you,” the female replied.
“That is too long for me. I always wish for you to be next to me,” Azriel replied and pressed his lips against the females. His arms circled her waist, making sure there wasn’t a single gap between their bodies. The female threaded her fingers through his hair, causing Azriel to sigh in delight. Feyre couldn’t help but feel surprised by this display of affection from Azriel.
Feyre leaned back against Rhys. “Who is that?”
“Azriel’s mate and wife,” Rhys answered.
“What?” Feyre exclaimed. “None of you have ever mentioned her before.”
“That was Azriel’s decision,” Rhys replied, filling up his glass. “You see, Y/N works as a researcher all over the continent for me so she is rarely ever here so none of us can protect her. Azriel has made a lot of enemies over the years and if he were tied to her, she could be put in even more danger.”
“When was the last time they saw each other?” Elain interjected.
“For Azriel a few months ago,” Rhys answered. “Those two weeks just before Solstice when Azriel wasn’t here, he was on the continent with her.”
Feyre watched as Azriel buried his head into Y/N’s neck, holding her against him tightly. Feyre smiled at the sight.
“It has been at least two years since the rest of us have last seen Y/N,” Cassian chimed in. “It would be nice of her to greet the rest of us.”
Y/N pulled away from Azriel to smile at everyone else. “Give me a break, Cass. If you were to go without a hug from your mate in a few months, you wouldn't be jumping to greet everyone else first.”
“She knows about us?” Nesta asked.
Cassian nodded. “Whenever Azriel meets up with her, she always asks about you all. Apparently she has been excited to meet you all.”
Feyre watched as Azriel and Y/N walked over to join the group. Azriel’s gaze never left Y/N for a single second. Feyre’s gaze shifted down to their joined hands. She hid her smile behind her glass.
Y/N quickly greeted Rhys, Cassian and Mor with a hug and she gave a small nod to Amren.
Azriel sat down on the armchair first and as Y/N was about to sit in the arm of it, Azriel pulled her down so she sat in his lap instead. His arms locked around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. Feyre was sure she had never seen him look so happy before, so at ease. The smile on his face was one Feyre had never seen.
“It is great to finally meet you three,” Y/N said, her gaze flicking between Feyre, Nesta and Elain. “This one here,” she said, reaching to cup Azriel’s cheek, “has told me a lot about you.”
“It is great to meet you,” Feyre said with a smile.
“So now that introductions have finished,” Cassian begins, “can we get back to the game now? I was about to win.”
“Is that because you changed the rules halfway through the game?” Y/N teased.
Cassian rolled his eyes. “You know what, Y/N. I don’t think I missed you at all.”
Y/N chuckled. “We both know that’s a lie.”
Azriel laughed along with Y/N and placed a soft kiss to her shoulder. He looked completely different to the stoic and serious shadowsinger Feyre was used to. With Y/N, Azriel seemed like a completely different person. The tension had vanished from his body and his shadows, which were once sliding over his shoulders, were now caressing Y/N legs and arms. One of his hands caressed her thigh while the other threaded with hers. Feyre could see the goosebumps appear on Y/N’s skin wherever he caressed.
Azriel whispered something into Y/N’s ear which caused her to turn to him, smiling wide, her lips hovering just above his. The glimmer in Azriel’s eyes was prominent as he looked at her. It was as if she hung the stars. There was so much love and tenderness in his eyes that it could only be described as something out of a romance novel. She had never seen him look so at ease before. It was if everything else had melted away and the only thing left was Y/N.
Feyre couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight.
“How long have they been mates for?” Feyre asked Rhys.
“Nearly three hundred years,” Rhys replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre. “They have been married for longer, the bond snapped nearly fifty years after they were married.”
“They seem happy,” Feyre said, her eyes not shifting from where Azriel and Y/N sat.
Rhys smiled at his two friends, friends he considered family. “They are. Azriel is always his happiest when Y/N is around. He always has been ever since they met.”
“Why does she go away for long periods of time?” Feyre questioned. “It feels like torture when I’m away from you for too long. I cannot imagine being mates to someone for three hundred years and only being able to see them every few months.”
“That is the way it has been through their whole relationship,” Rhys explains. “They both knew what each other did for a job and neither of them wanted the other to give it up.”
“How long is she back for this time?” Feyre asked.
“I hadn’t asked,” Rhys said. “But I have a small feeling she will be here for a while this time.”
Feyre frowned. “How so?”
“Because if I know anything about Y/N, it is that she would never decline a glass of my finest wine and so far she has declined every glass Mor has offered her,” Rhys observed.
Feyre looked at Rhys excitedly. “Does that mean—?”
Rhys smiled. “They haven’t said anything so I assume that they wish to keep the news between them for a little while longer.”
Feyre smiled over at Y/N and Azriel. She caught Y/N’s eye. The beautiful female only sent a wink Feyre’s way, a clear indication that she had overheard her and Rhys’s conversation.
“Az, it’s your turn,” Nesta said.
Azriel throws all of his cards onto the table. “I think I am done for the night.”
Cassian groaned . “Really?”
“Really,” Azriel said. “I want to spend time with my gorgeous mate and wife.”
Cassian chuckled. “That is only an excuse because you are losing,” the general teased.
Azriel rolled his eyes and swooped Y/N up in his arms. Her arms locked around his neck. “If you need us— actually don’t even try to contact us at all.”
Y/N threw her head back and laughed as Azriel carried her out of the room. Feyre could hear them laughing loudly even when the door was firmly closed behind them. Feyre leaned into Rhys and linked her fingers with his.
“I am happy for them,” Feyre said, her eyes staring at the door where Azriel and Y/N had left.
summary: azriel’s curiosity and penchant for spying reveals exactly why you’ve been more…enthusiastic in bed lately
word count: 5.8k :0
warnings: smut (not super detailed)!! 18+ mdni pls, az being nosy
a/n: this is one of my faves so far :’) i have this persistent silly headcanon that az is the biggest busybody of them all and that’s why he’s so good at his job
masterlist
banners by @/cafekitsune <3
Sex between you and Azriel was far from boring. It was a well known secret that Azriel had a predilection towards kink and experimentation, so your adventures with him between the sheets never left either of you dissatisfied. Far from it, actually.
Being with him was always pleasurable, wonderful, and unrivaled by any you’d had before him. During girls night, you had always attested to his prowess, said that his skills of observation extended past the battlefield and very much into the bedroom. And his wingspan…you would neither confirm nor deny whether the theory around Illyrian males and their wingspan was true, much to their chagrin, but the mischievous smirk that curled your lips was all they needed to confirm their suspicions.
Azriel was a skilled lover; he knew your ins and outs, understood almost innately how to coax pleasure from you with a simple, well placed brush of his fingers. More often than not, Azriel had you in a puddle on the floor before he could even take his pants off. Which, ordinarily, was a more than welcome skill — you loved how well he knew you, adored how he loved you so much that his brain was like a file cabinet of information about things you liked.
But you’d grown frustrated lately, more and more desiring to reduce Azriel to the same pleasure filled putty that he so often did with you. His composure was infuriatingly ironclad; you knew he felt the same primal, overwhelming desire that you did — such was the nature of the mating bond — but he was much better at masking it.
In short, you wanted to know what made him tick, what made him beg and whimper and plead with you to touch him. You’d been mated for a year now, and while his desire for you never waned, you had yet to find the one thing that made him sink to his knees and beg the way he so easily coaxed you to do for him.
It was no secret that your mate had a bold competitive streak. But your own stubbornness rivaled his own, leading to long, long card game nights and sparring matches — much to everyone else’s entertainment.
Though you knew you had no reason to feel such competitiveness when matters of the bedroom were concerned, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance that Azriel had so easily figured out how to make you squirm in a multitude of ways — with all your cards on the table — while you were still somewhat in the dark about his most favored bedroom inclinations. Azriel kept the secrets of his hand close to his chest.
So you vowed to yourself that you’d figure it out, test his composure to see how exactly to make that beautiful, calm countenance crack. It was like a game, but one you were more than willing to play and even more determined to win.
Ever the observer however, Azriel caught on to the changes in your excitement beneath the sheets, amusement and adoration coursing through his veins as he reveled in your sudden vigor, never shying away from a challenge.
You had been more experimental in your bedroom endeavors as of late, asking him to bend you this way and that, introducing things that he never thought you’d be interested in — not that he was complaining in the slightest. Though your differences were strikingly obvious, Azriel would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about where your sudden interest in various sexual niches had sprung from.
Initially, it was all fun and games; if you wanted to explore then so be it — he’d match you stroke for stroke every time. But eventually, his nosiness had wedged its way deep into each crevice of his mind until he was all-consumed, curiosity devolving into a burgeoning anxiety.
Was something wrong?
Azriel was positive that if you were bored you would tell him. Had you heard something from one of the others that spurred you to want to explore more? Had you felt as though you had to introduce novelty every time to please him?
You had to have known that was far from the truth; no matter your state, Azriel had always made it clear to you that you were the most exquisite creature he’d ever had the privilege of knowing, let alone laying with. He didn’t think there was anything wrong…at least not for him. Maybe you felt like something was missing.
“Penny for your thoughts, brother?”
Rhys’s voice snapped him out of his anxious musings. Azriel hadn’t realized that he was pacing so furiously he could have worn a hole through the floor. Both Rhysand and Cassian had been watching with amusement glinting in their eyes. After all, it was a rare sight to see their ordinarily calm and stoic shadowsinger so worked up.
The same poker face Azriel had worn to win countless games of cards against his brothers masked his features now, but the twitch in his brow and the near missable ruffling of his wings were tells that Cassian and Rhysand were well acquainted with.
The shadowsinger had never perfected his stone faced indifference when he was thinking of you.
Cassian ventured a guess, “Have you upset Y/N?”
Cassian had meant to tease, but the way Azriel stayed silent had his eyebrow arching in question. Azriel ignored the curious glance from his brother as his mind ran in circles once more.
Had he upset you? Was your sudden experimentation in bed some roundabout way of telling him that he had done something to hurt you? No, no…that didn’t make sense, he was being illogical.
Or…Had he somehow missed picking up on something that you liked?
Your sudden interest in sexual exploration was far from a problem, but he got the niggling sense that you were up to something, playing a game that he wasn’t privy to. And he wanted in.
Azriel was private by nature, never revealing more of his relationship with you than absolutely necessary to his brothers, not wanting to overshare in fear that he’d fall victim to their incessant teasing. But this…maybe it would be useful to get their opinions about your sudden change in interests? Cassian and Rhys were both mated males afterall, and maybe there was something Azriel was missing. He would never admit it to anyone but himself, but he fell victim to his crippling neuroticism more times than he’d like to. Curiosity and anxiety were two sides of the same coin.
So he indulged and told his brothers of your sudden vigor in bed, enthusiasm to try something new every single time. You’d been insatiable as of late and he didn’t know why; nothing had changed that he knew of and it was concerning him, he couldn’t stand not knowing.
“So,” Rhys started tentatively, narrowing his eyes in confusion, not quite grasping the issue that Azriel was so hesitant to endorse. “Y/N is trying new things in bed.”
And elsewhere, Azriel thought with a ghost of a smile on his lips. He’d leave that part out, though; Rhys probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing the details about the going-ons in the dining room of the townhouse. And the gardens. And the hallways.
“And you’re complaining?” Cassian asked, incredulous, similarly at a loss for his brother’s concern.
“I’m not complaining, Cass,” Azriel groaned and slumped unceremoniously into a chair (much like an irritated school child who’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to), immediately regretting his poorly thought out decision to confide in his brothers. “I’m just confused. I don’t know what she wants.”
“Have you considered asking her?” Rhys inquired, infuriatingly teasing smile curving his lips.
Azriel deadpanned and clicked his tongue, not believing that Rhys would assume he was so inept at communicating with his lover, “Of course I’ve asked. She just says nothing’s changed. I believe her, but it’s still bothering me and I don’t know why.”
Both Cassian and Rhys resisted the urge to laugh, mentally conversing about how Azriel’s affections for you often reduced him to an adolescent-like lovesickness, begging and willing to please. Az had been this way since they were children; fiercely competitive and subsequently pouty if he didn’t have the upper hand, always wanting to know and learn everything he could.
This side of the shadowsinger was one that did not make an appearance often, reserving itself until he was around the few he trusted wholeheartedly.
The past couple of centuries saw even less of this endearingly childish and competitive Azriel – even around his closest friends – as Night Court duties and his identity as Spymaster overshadowed most opportunities to be vulnerable in his relationships.
But when you came around, light began to spark beneath the shadowy depths of Azriel’s countenance as you slowly coaxed him to trust and love as fiercely as everyone knew he was capable of, with the reckless abandon that his childhood self so easily embodied.
“Maybe check her nightstand,” Cassian teased with a wink, only half joking, as a quiet happiness bubbled within him at the small glimpses of Azriel’s vulnerability. “Some of Nesta’s best kept secrets are hidden there.”
Before Azriel could furrow his brow and chastise his brother for snooping through his mate’s belongings, a realization hit him.
Nesta.
You had been spending an awfully large amount of time with the eldest Archeron sister in the library lately, choosing to hole up there in lieu of your other hobbies when you weren’t training or engaging in your various other Night Court duties.
But Nesta would be a dead end. There was no way he could approach her without tipping you off to his secret sleuthing. Though he and Nesta were friends, her loyalties laid with you; there was an unexplainable female camaraderie between you – a chosen sisterhood, if you will – and if he asked if she knew anything about what was going on, she’d go running to you, mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
The conversation with his brothers was about as helpful as he initially thought it would be, and he let himself succumb to their jokes about how wrapped around your finger he was. Azriel had endured it graciously, knowing better than anyone that they were right, that he was indeed wrapped so tightly around your little finger that he was unsure of where he ended and you began. That he would gratefully stay in the palm of your hand for as long as you would allow.
But that night, after you had told him not to wait up for you because you’d be having drinks with Feyre and Mor, Cassian’s voice reverberated insistently in his mind.
Check her nightstand…best kept secrets…
Azriel resisted the urge to snoop for all of ten minutes before his inherent nosiness clouded his judgment and got the better of him; afterall, his love for secrets is what made him such an effective spymaster. Before he knew it, he was rolling onto your side of the bed, inquisitive hands pulling open your bedside drawer.
Hidden among the small stack of books he had given you was a thick novel with a cover he recognized, but gave no second thought.
It was a book you said Nesta had lent you. When he asked if you liked it you said it was “only okay” and that you’d let him know if he should read it when you were finished. Despite your lukewarm review, however, it had never left your side, and he had found you on more than one occasion cozied up with it in your hands, cheeks dusted with a heat he knew all too well.
Azriel was well aware of the content of the books Nesta favored, often lending a reluctant ear to a whiny Cassian whenever she paid more attention to her books than him.
But there was no way your sudden excitement for novelty in the bedroom could be inspired by Nesta’s smutty recommendations…right? He leafed through, assessing hazel eyes quickly skimming the paragraphs, catching glimpses of the prose that had you so enraptured.
Azriel felt the back of his neck heat.
It was smut, as he assumed. But this was truly…filth. Pure, unadulterated, filthy smut.
Azriel was a lover of all books, never having been one to categorize or judge them by popular opinion. And, to be completely fair, he had read a decent amount of books filled with sex and romance.
But…he was sure that the acts detailed in this one would make even the Court of Nightmares’s debauchery look saintly. Even Azriel, who had been correctly assumed to be the kinkiest of the Inner Circle, felt tame in comparison to the words flickering across the pages of your book. How did you read this with such impassivity on your face?
Azriel snapped the book shut with such force the pages blew a cool, gentle breeze onto his heating face. He tried – and failed – to not picture you in the position the main character in your book was described in, unintentionally sending a soft hum of his burgeoning arousal down your bond. He was beginning to understand your desire to replicate the more salacious scenes detailed in your novels.
Having fun without me, Az? Came your teasing inquiry in his mind, as he meticulously replaced all of your belongings into your nightstand.
Don’t be nosy, he quipped back, extremely aware of the irony of his statement. And then after a beat he added, answering your question with a sincerity that never failed to grip your heart, Never without you, love.
You left him waiting for a response a little bit longer than you normally would as you attempted to control the thundering beat of your heart in your chest. You were convinced that no amount of time could ever diminish the effects that Azriel’s blatant display of love had on your composure. As much as he was wrapped around your little finger, you were just as tightly wrapped around his.
I take back what I said earlier, wait up for me.
Azriel smirked to himself, feeling a flare of triumph, It’s a date, then. Maybe I’ll find something interesting to read in the meantime.
If you caught on to his sly insinuation, you did not let on, just continued bantering with him for a few moments before returning your full attention to your friends, who were no doubt attempting to extract morsels of information from your obviously lascivious exchange with your lover.
But that night – even after Azriel had promptly fucked you into a blissful oblivion – had yielded no more information about your recent proclivity for finding a new kink, so Azriel did what he did best and spied.
He kept a watchful eye on the books you read, and tracked the times you asked him to try something new. He spent more time in the library than necessary under the guise that Rhys had put him up to some research.
Which was only half of a lie. He was in there to do reconnaissance, yes, just not for Rhys.
Azriel scanned the bookshelves for anything that seemed like it had been recently replaced, pages still clinging to the sweet scent of your skin. A title he recognized caught his eye and he slotted it out of place, flipping through the pages to confirm his suspicions.
This book was shorter than the others he’d seen you carry around, but certainly no less obscene. A smirk pulled at Azriel’s lips as he read a dog eared chapter that you had clearly marked for inspiration, recollections of your most recent tryst in his office flooding his awareness.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
You had sauntered into his small, private study at the House of Wind, short dress skimming the curves of your thighs as you bent to greet him with a kiss to his cheek. He’d been distracted at the time — surveying maps and cross referencing with ancient textbooks — and barely tore his attention away from his work long enough to squeeze your hand in greeting.
But you didn’t seem to mind, opting to make yourself comfortable and purveying the books neatly organized on his shelves. When you’d found a book you thought would be interesting enough — though probably not quite as interesting as the one you’d just finished, per Nesta’s recommendation — you settled into the armchair across Azriel’s desk, shoulders against one armrest as your legs draped over the other.
Azriel looked up at you then, soft smile curving his lips. He loved when you kept him company while he worked; somehow, whenever you were around, work never seemed nearly as daunting or overwhelming.
You met his gaze with your own grin, silently communicating your support of him in the way that only mates could, tugging gently on the bond before winking at him and resettling your attention back to the book in your lap.
The both of you worked in that wonderfully comfortable silence for a while before Azriel caught you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. The sun had begun its routine descent below the horizon, cool breeze stirring the sheer curtains framing his windows. Though summer had plagued the days with heat and humidity, the nights were still cool as the last dregs of spring eked away.
He looked up, intending on asking if you needed anything — a blanket, maybe — but the words died swiftly in his throat when he eyed a flash of bare skin as you swung your legs to stand, showcasing just enough for him to clue in to the fact that you were indeed not wearing underwear. Or anything else under your dress, if the peak of your nipples beneath the silk was anything to go by.
Selfishly, for a brief moment, Azriel decided that maybe keeping the windows open wouldn’t be so bad.
He pried his eyes away from your form making its way back to his bookcase, and instead attempted to tamp down the raging lust stirring in his belly so he could focus. But the mental picture of what he knew lay beneath the barely there fabric of your dress coupled with your scent made the lines on the map he was studying blur into nonsense.
Though intelligent and compassionate at heart, Azriel often found himself a slave to his baser male instincts when it came to you. There was little – if anything – you could do to quell the raging need to touch you, kiss you, be near you at all hours of the day; his desire for you was a constant hum belying his daily routine. He had not one iota of self control when you were involved, much to his simultaneous thrill and chagrin.
Inwardly, he cursed himself as he stole another glance at you as you stretched onto your toes to reach a book on the top shelf.
Beauty incarnate, truly, he thought. Azriel’s eyes tracked each slope and valley of the lines of your body, taking his time to commit each curve to memory, the way he should have been doing with the maps sitting now uselessly on his desk.
You looked at him over your shoulder, small pout on your lips, “Az, can you help me? I can’t reach.”
Azriel’s heart leapt. It’s like you were doing it on purpose, and in hindsight you definitely were. But despite the gnawing adoration encouraging him to fall to his knees and worship at your feet, he stood with the cool grace of someone unperturbed by their mate’s subtle seduction.
Azriel obliged you, coming up behind you, one hand curling around your hip to steady himself as the other reached easily to the top shelf to grab the book your fingertips skimmed. As he leaned forward, you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back and you wanted to abandon all your plans to slowly seduce Azriel into a puddle on the floor, but you remained steadfast in your decision. Nesta had pushed a book into your hands and said she tried this once with Cassian and that the resulting hours were pure heaven, and you wanted to test the theory, curiosity rivaling that of your mate’s.
You barely registered Azriel putting the book in your hands, too lost in the warmth of his familiar touch. But you composed yourself quickly, leaning back into him to kiss him in thanks, not so subtly pushing your ass back into his hips. A feeling of revelry settled in your chest when you felt him already half hard beneath his pants, his fingers curling tighter around your hip.
Oh so reluctantly, you pulled away, perfect picture of obliviousness as you plopped back down on the armchair you were occupying previously.
Azriel thought he would collapse in on himself when you went to sit back down. You had him so tightly ensnared it was like he was still in the midst of the initial mating frenzy. He briefly wondered if the mind-boggling need for you would ever go away, though part of him knew hoped it never would.
He took a moment to compose himself — if that was even possible when one’s mate was clearly playing a dangerous game of seduction — bracing himself with one arm steady against the bookshelf.
Despite how much Azriel so greatly wanted to shirk his responsibilities to bend you over his desk, he wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. The work day wasn’t quite over, and the plans he was making for you would surely last too long to finish his research afterwards. So he steeled himself and took a deep, steadying breath, willing his blood to fill his head again so he could think with some semblance of clarity.
Though at baseline, he always found it difficult to think rationally when you were around.
While Azriel was trying — and failing — to regain his composure, you were feigning extreme interest in the book you had selected at random: The History and Systems of Fae War Treaties.
If Azriel had been paying any attention to what you were reaching for, he’d have caught on to your ploy, but luckily for you the mere sight of you was enough to render him at least somewhat incapacitated.
You took a peek at him over the back of the chair, triumphant satisfaction crooking your lips into a mischievous smile. Maybe this would be the day he finally cracks, you think to yourself.
But as the sun dipped lower beneath the skyline of Velaris below, and as Azriel stubbornly worked away at his desk, you felt the tiredness of the day settle into your bones, pull you deeper into the plush leather of Azriel’s loveseat. Cassian had run you ragged with training this morning, and Rhys and Amren had your mind working tirelessly as the three of you attempted to draft a peace treaty in a meager four hours.
But you wouldn’t sleep, not yet, not until you had reduced Azriel to a beautiful, orgasmic mess in his chair. Not until the hazel of his eyes were blown dark with desire and pleading as you straddled his hips.
The next hour was a fight to stay awake as the words on the pages in your lap began to blur into obscurity, mind muddling with theories and questions — though the book was an off handed choice, you couldn’t deny that the information was coincidentally incredibly pertinent to the discussion you were having with Rhys and Amren earlier in the day.
The telltale sigh of a day’s work completed pulled your attention away from your book, gaze settling on your mate. His hair was mused in a way that told you he had spent the last however long skating his fingers through it, but as always it fell perfectly across his forehead in defiance of the tiredness creeping up his neck.
Azriel’s eyes met yours and apparently your coy seduction earlier still held his body in a vice, evident in the way he stood and stalked to you. There was a cool, domineering edge to his movements and you knew your plan had worked to a degree, but the determination you had to break him down had leeched out of you the same way the night had stolen the day’s heat.
You hummed in satisfaction as he leaned down to kiss you, the pressure gentle and so, so sweet. A stark contrast to the dark and tempting storm of desire Azriel flooded your senses with down the bond.
Never once breaking the contact of your kiss, he’d wedged a knee between your legs as one hand braced against the arm of the loveseat while the other danced at the hem of your dress, endearingly asking for permission.
Your mouth curved against his and you guided his hand up to your hip, gasping delightedly when his hand tracked further up your waist, bringing the hem of your dress up with it as he slotted your hips more comfortably against his leg.
His lips traced a scalding trail of open mouthed kisses against your jaw, your neck, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest that had your hips rolling against him.
“So bold for me,” he said, his hand skating across your unclothed skin while he urged your hips to grind a little harder against his thigh. You gasped, the pressure so wonderfully perfect against your cunt.
Though your initial intention was to get Azriel all hot and bothered, you couldn’t deny that the game you had set yourself up in had the same effect on you; the lingering, almost lazy path his eyes swept over your body every time you shifted across from him left heat singing between your legs, untamed longing for you dancing down the golden thread between you.
“Az…” you rasped, arching your hips up to meet his still clothed body, the top of your dress pushed languidly down to your waist as Azriel played slow music on the skin of your breasts. The loveseat was a cramped fit at best, but Azriel’s surprising flexibility and dexterity made it work despite the general largeness of his wings and frame. He’d made even the smallest corners of the House work for your sexual escapades.
The memories of all the scandalous little happenings you two have been partaking in the past few months flitted across your mind’s eye like an erotic slideshow, and you groaned. Legs tightening around his in desperate search for more friction, more contact, more of him. His name on your lips again was a wanton plea, a sound so wonderfully obscene Azriel almost came in his pants.
“Hmm?” He hummed, closing his lips around your nipple, teeth gently tugging before his tongue was quick to soothe the ache. The way your hips were grinding so shamelessly against him had his head spinning with a swirling mix of lust and love, and he clung to the last shreds of self discipline he had. It was all he could do to not tear both of your clothes off and sink himself deep into your brilliant warmth.
Azriel had always been patient, mastery over his desire was a skill he’d honed meticulously over the past few centuries — though you had a way of quickly unraveling his self control with one flutter of your eyelashes. But he wanted to make this last for you, wanted to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible. So he pressed his thigh more firmly between your legs, his own hips slotting against the side of your body.
You gasped at the feel of him, of how hard he was against your hip, and you tried to reach him, tried to get him to release some of the tension you knew coiled in his belly. He groaned deep and breathless when you pressed insistently against him, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he continued his ministrations on your body.
Azriel’s hands were everywhere, trailing paths around your breasts, up your neck, into your hair, and between your legs the way he no doubt was doing with the maps on his desk earlier.
It was infuriating how close you were already, how swiftly the tables had turned (though you half blamed the sudden onset of your fatigue the day had cursed you with), how with one well placed touch you were on the brink of collapse at Azriel’s mercy yet again.
He was urging your hips faster now, his fingers and lips making quick work of all the places he knew would have you keening. And before you could even register that he was still fully clothed, hard cock still straining against the confines of his pants, you were falling, breathless and dizzy with release.
The night had been far from over. You came twice more in that godsdamned loveseat – once with his fingers buried inside you and another time with his head between your legs – before he whisked you away to your bedroom where you finally, finally felt the delicious stretch of him inside you.
By the time the sun was making its appearance over the horizon once more, you had lost count of how many times Azriel had you begging.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Though your spicy little rendezvous in his office – and encore in the bedroom – wasn’t quite an exact replica of what played out in the book you had apparently just read, Azriel had thought your coy seduction had its intended effect. He’d been so fucking desperate for you that he couldn’t wait until you were out of his study to have you coming for him.
But, as he skimmed the pages of the chapter you marked, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he wouldn’t mind being fully at the mercy of your whims, wouldn’t mind submitting to the pleasure that you so easily coaxed from him. He was already always so eager to please you, so willing to crawl to the ends of the earth for you if you had so much as suggested you wanted him to.
“Azriel?” Nesta’s voice dripped with wicked amusement, effectively pulling him from his erotic reverie. “I never thought I’d see you in this section of the library.”
Fuck.
He hadn’t anticipated that he’d run into Nesta, a severely idiotic oversight on his part considering the House’s library was something akin to her own personal sanctuary. Azriel turned slowly on his heels to face her, mind working in overdrive to come up with a viable excuse for him being there.
“Nesta,” was all he came up with. Pathetic.
Her smirk turned deadly when she realized he was floundering. Arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted ever so slightly upwards, she looked the very portrait of smug amusement; he would expect nothing less of his friend who moonlighted as Lady Death.
Nesta’s eyes dropped to the book he forgot he was holding, and her eyebrows shot up in understanding, “Ah, I just recommended that one to Y/N. She gave it a hefty five stars. Said it was…intriguing.”
Nesta’s sly comments were enough to confirm Azriel’s suspicions that you were taking bedroom inspiration from the arsenal of smutty books the House stocked. And, with the way Nesta was biting her tongue, he could tell that she knew exactly why he was there.
Cassian, that fucking mouthy bastard.
Before Azriel could open his mouth to tell her that it wasn’t what it looked like – even though they both knew it was exactly what it looked like – Nesta stalked past him, pulling books off the shelf with striking precision. With a stack of five books balanced on one hand, she took the one Azriel was holding and reshelved it.
“These are Y/N’s favorite,” she said, this time with a little bit more softness and understanding as she placed them gingerly in his arms. “I’m sure she’d love if you read them.”
Azriel scanned each cover, a fond smile working to tilt the corners of his lips. You did love these; he had been familiar with these covers long before you were even mated, always keeping a lovingly watchful eye on the things you enjoyed, filing the knowledge away in his mind for later.
“Thanks, Nesta,” he said sincerely, adoration for you filling his chest with warmth as he remembered the excitement lighting your eyes while you read these books, cute flush radiating off your cheeks.
Nesta only nodded, giving his shoulder an encouraging few pats as she stalked off to another aisle, no doubt scouring the shelves for a new read.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
Azriel told himself that he’d only read a few chapters — for research — but he hadn’t realized that he’d spent the better half of his day off lounging on the loveseat in his study.
Despite his previous reservations around the smutty books you’d so lovingly treasured, he found he was enjoying them — and not just for the well written, detailed sex scenes that you were pulling ideas from. He was two-thirds of the way through the second book, in the midst of the big climax, when you snuck up on him.
“It seems you’ve discovered my dirty little secret,” you said coyly, arms coming up behind him to snake around his shoulders.
Azriel jumped at your sudden appearance, inwardly cursing himself for teaching you how to sneak up on someone so effectively. He closed the book swiftly, feeling a flustered blush creep up his neck.
You pouted and rested your chin on his shoulder, “Aw, you were just getting to the best part! Don’t stop reading on my account.”
Azriel groaned but gave in, leaning back into your touch, “Don’t tease me.”
“I would never tease you, my love,” you said mockingly before kissing his cheek. “It is really the best part, though. The paint scene—“
Before you could regale the details of the main characters’ sexual escapades, Azriel took your chin in his fingers and slotted his lips over yours in a silent plea to stop your innocent tormenting. He reveled in the way you kissed him back without pause; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way you loved him as eagerly as he did you.
“Dirty little secret, huh?” He quipped, lips brushing yours as a bemused smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you made your way around the back of the chair, gesturing for him to uncross his legs so you could settle yourself on his lap.
Your weight was a welcome comfort as he continued prodding you, “Is this why you’ve been so…eager lately?”
“I didn’t think you’d notice,” you admitted, winding your arms around his neck as he scoffed in mock disbelief.
“Give me some credit love, I notice everything when it comes to you.” Came his quick response.
You pursed your lips, half in childish dissatisfaction that your little game was over, “I just wanted to know how to get you to beg for me. I needed ideas.”
Your nonchalance belied the wicked sensuality of your words and he chuckled, wrapping his wings around you both before mapping a scathing trail of kisses up your neck. The pillowy feel of his lips brushing your ear made you shudder, his teeth nibbling playfully at your earlobe as he hummed deep in his chest, “We have a lifetime together, there’s no rush. But since you want it so badly, shall I show you how well I can beg for you?”
Azriel’s offer sent an exhilarating shiver down your spine, and you so desperately wanted to give in, wanted to watch him come undone beneath you as he pleaded with you to touch him. But you shook your head despite yourself, competitive stubbornness the only barrier between you and what you wanted.
“I want to earn it, make you want me so bad you can’t help yourself.”
Your words were a breathy murmur that nearly had Azriel flipping you over right there on the too small lounge chair, but he resisted, prioritizing his assurances that you were the only thing he wanted every second of every day.
“That’s the thing, beloved,” he whispered in your ear, deep voice doused in honey reverberating in your bones as your desire flared so wildly it made you lightheaded. His hand, calloused palms rough against your skin, skated beneath the hem of your dress to grab hold of your hip and move you so you were straddling him.
This was the image you played over and over in your mind. The unbridled, unrestrained look of pleading in his eyes that blew his pupils wide, that had his hips shifting against yours in a display of just how much he wanted you.
“I always want you,” he continued. “I’d beg for you like I am dying of dehydration and you are my oasis. Just ask, and I’ll do exactly as you say.”
You were mesmerized, finger tracing the sharp contours of his jawline before ending at his chin, tilting his gaze up with the same practiced dominance you’d seen him slip into countless times before. You savored the way he shuddered at your touch, pretty lips parting as his chest heaved.
The corner of your mouth quirked, your breath a ghost over his lips, “Show me, then.”
Summary: Who's the cute guy she was talking about last night?
•○●⛦●○•
Word Count: 4863
Warnings: flirty lucien, shy reader but shes like 'yknow what fuck shyness lets flirt back' lmaoo
A/n: yall i need you to know. the reader is based on me. shes literally me. i crochet too if yal didnt know hehe. this was so fun to write like it felt like wring my own story except this shit never happened irl lol.
idk ill stop rambling now 😂
ANYWAYS, ENJOYYY 🥹
p.s: id say the credit for this idea goes to my bestie boo @berryzxx because she put me on the song that i used as inspo for tis fic and also bullying me into writing for that song. ily lots pooks 🤭
(based on an indian song 👀)
°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°
The moment Y/n got the text from her college best friend Feyre, Y/n knew having picked up crocheting as a hobby was the best thing she could ever have done.
Exaggerating aside, she was excited when Feyre asked her if she wanted to reconnect after two years of not talking, and Y/n said yes without hesitation.
They hadn’t talked much, only ever interacting with each other’s instagram posts and stories. Feyre was too busy most of the time painting and opening her own gallery to display her art, taking commissions sometimes and travelling with her fiance.
And even though Y/n had wanted to stay in touch, being an upcoming writer, she did not get too much time to talk as she was busy writing all the time, and when she wasn’t, she was lying in bed wondering why she was in a slump.
Hence, she had picked up crocheting as a new hobby and made some pretty cute tops, imagining herself wearing them to a beach or somewhere pretty. She had been thinking of going somewhere as a vacation to clear her mind.
Which was why when Feyre suggested flying to some beach island her fiance owned for a little getaway with friends, Y/n could not contain her excitement.
Now as she stood in the middle of her bedroom, trying to pick between the two outfits in her hand, wondering which one to wear, she wished she had a boyfriend. Or a husband. Or something. She had always been an indecisive person, and at moments such as this, she wished someone could help her pick her outfits.
Feyre was probably on her way and here Y/n stood, wondering which one to wear and which one to put in her bag to wear the next day.
Ughh fuck me.
Finally, she settled on a pastel pink cardigan and a white halter top with a white bell bottom jeans. She wanted to make a good impression on Feyre’s new friends and decided that the safer option was better. She could wear the other one after she got more comfortable with them.
She had never even met Feyre’s fiance. The two had met and gotten engaged after Y/n and Feyre drifted apart, but Y/n had congratulated her friend on her insta post, so surely that counted as something?
Now that reminder had her reconsidering. Was going vacationing with people she did not know really the best idea?
I mean, what if one of them is a serial killer? What if one of them is suicidal and kills us all-
Maybe she should just cancel.
She was eyeing her phone, genuinely wondering if she should go, when the screen lit up and Feyre’s name flashed across the screen, the soft lilting sound of Y/n’s ringtone filling the air.
So it was decided. Y/n was going.
Y/n answered the call while simultaneously shouldering her bag. "Hello?"
Feyre’s excited voice screeched in her ear from the other end. "Y/n! I’m under your apartment now. Are you ready?"
Instantly, her mood became better and Y/n wondered why she ever considered refusing to go in the first place. Even if she was a stranger to Feyre’s friends, she still had Feyre. She was sure it wouldn’t be as awkward as she was expecting it to be.
Straightening, she glanced around her room for a final time before nodding to herself, confirming that she was not forgetting anything. "Yes, babe. As ready as I’ll ever be. I’m coming down."
Feyre squealed, and Y/n could hear chuckles from the background at her friend’s antics. "I can't wait!"
With that, Y/n ended the call and walked out of her apartment, closing the door behind her, focusing on the jingle of her keychain and not on the nervousness running through her veins.
Soon, as she walked out of the elevator on the ground floor, she spied two dark cars waiting outside. It made her hurry. The moment she exited, she spied her friend leaving the car, grinning.
Feyre ran the short distance to Y/n, throwing all her body weight onto her friend, making Y/n giggle.
"Calm down Fey! I’m not going anywhere."
Feyre pulled away with a wide grin, shaking her head, then grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her back to the car she had exited.
"We're a total of ten people, five in that car-" she pointed to the one standing behind the one she had exited- "and five of us in this one." Y/n nodded, trying to calm her nerves.
Feyre then got in, leaving Y/n to get in the back. Feyre’s fiance was sitting in the driver’s seat, black aviation glasses perched on his nose. He offered Y/n a warm smile and a wave before Feyre piped up.
"Y/n, this is my fiance Rhysand. That is Azriel, Rhys’s foster brother and his girlfriend, Gwyneth."
Y/n dipped her head in a polite nod to the couple sharing the back seat with her, but Gwyneth had no qualms about hugging Y/n. Y/n was surprised to say the least by the sudden affectionate action, but she returned it nonetheless with a wide grin.
"Nice to meet you all."
"Everyone, this is my best friend from university, as well as my then roommate, Y/n."
Azriel gave her a tiny smile, his loving gaze returning to his girlfriend not a moment later.
It made Y/n want to go aww, because if that was not pure love right there, then Y/n did not know what was. It made her long to have someone of her own.
Rhys started the car, and the first ten minutes passed in comfortable silence. And then Feyre spoke.
"So, Y/n. Please tell me you’re seeing someone."
Y/n sighed. "You would’ve been the first person to know had I been."
Feyre twisted to glare at Y/n.
"What?"
"Why are you still single?"
"Haven’t found the one yet."
Feyre contemplated for a moment, then grinned. "You know, I’ve got a friend-"
"Not again Feyre!" Y/n turned to Gwyneth. "You know, she would send me on dates with these random dudes every day-"
"Not every day!"
Y/n glared at her friend in jest. "Only because I bullied you to leave me alone."
Feyre sighed dramatically, then plopped back into her seat. "You’re mean."
Gwyn snickered. "Why did you not end up with any of them then?"
Y/n shook her head solemnly. "They were all either too arrogant or ugly."
That made everyone laugh, and finally, Azriel spoke up. "And how did you find so many guys, Feyre?"
Y/n perked up. "I want to know too! I always wondered if she went to asylums to get me a worse specimen than the last."
"Oh my god Y/n, they were just guys from our university and the neighbouring ones."
Y/n smiled. It was fun being around her friend again. It felt like the never stopped talking, picking up from where they left off.
"You know, we’ve got three single people in the other car."
Y/n dropped her head in her palm, and Gwyn cackled.
"Come on Y/n, they’re not that bad. One of them is a guy, but the other two are women. You can experiment if that’s what you want. Maybe that’s the reason you never connected with any guys I set you up with."
Y/n made a crying face and leaned her head against Gwyn, who continued to vibrate with silent laughter. "God help me."
Eventually, Feyre dropped the topic, ending up talking about random nonsense after that. Azriel also chimed in sometimes, but mostly it was either Feyre and Rhysand talking and Gwyn and Y/n laughing and giving unwanted commentary.
They had to take two helicopters to the island, which had Y/n wondering just how big of a jackpot Feyre had gotten engaged to. The ride to the beach home from the helipad after was again two cars.
While boarding the helicopter, Y/n had spied the other friends of Feyre and Rhysand getting out of their car, but she had averted her gaze when the redheaded man had turned to look, hoping she didn’t seem like a creep while she had been trying to take a look at their faces.
The ride to the beach house, as they called it, was silent because Y/n, Gwyn and Feyre dozed off for most of it, already tired after so much travelling. And before they knew it, the midday sun shone through the windows of the car as it finally stopped in the gated compound of a mansion that looked straight out of architectural digest.
Y/n could not stop gaping at it as she got out of the car, then turned to hold the door open for Gwyn.
"It’s so big and beautiful." Gwyn commented, her eyes too fixed on the two story structure. Y/n shot her a knowing look.
"I know right? Only seen stuff like this in the movies."
The two shared a giggle before Azriel joined them on their side and the trio followed Rhysand and Feyre to the main doors.
Rhysand had just climbed the top step when the doors opened, two ladies with long black hair cascading down their backs standing behind them, and Y/n decided that they were twins.
"Nuala, Cerridwen." Rhysand nodded at them with a smile, then turned to the people standing behind him when the twins left.
"I think it’s best if we freshen up and rest for some time before dinner."
The tall guy who had been driving the other car sighed dramatically, burying his head in Nesta’s shoulder. "Thank god, I am tired."
Nesta rolled her eyes, then smiled at Y/n. Being Feyre’s roommate, Y/n had met Nesta on multiple occasions and admired the woman a lot. Nesta, too, had always looked after Y/n like a sister when the three would go out to dinner.
"Y/n. How are you?"
Y/n dipped her head, then stepped forward and pulled Nesta into a hug. "I’m good. Your fiance?"
Nesta nodded, glancing at the hulk of a man. "This is Cassian. Cass, this is-"
"Y/n, heard a lot ‘bout ya." He grinned, extending his hand for a shake.
Y/n smiled at him, then turned back to Nesta and Feyre as the latter began speaking. "Y/n, this is Elain, my other sister. Mor, Rhysand’s cousin, and Lucien, my friend."
After everyone had been introduced, all of them retreated to their rooms. It seemed like they had these outings a lot, because the way everyone was so familiar with the layout of the house would have been uncanny had this been their first time here.
Except for Lucien. He seemed a little hesitant, lingering back with Y/n as everyone else left. But then Feyre directed the two to the upper floor, where two guest rooms were waiting for them.
The rooms were next to each other, so Y/n and Lucien were together till the very last moment. It gave Y/n a lot of time to admire the man’s attractiveness through stolen glances, and she wished it did not for she was not able to control the movement of her jaw that kept unhinging every chance it got at the sheer beauty of him.
Gosh, if he is the guy Feyre wants to set me up with, I am truly going to be blessed.
As the two finally reached the top step, Lucien glanced at Y/n.
"First time here?"
"Yup. In fact, I’m seeing Fey for the first time since we finished uni."
His brows rose. "Damn. How long has it been?"
She shrugged noncommittally. "Around two years. What about you? Your first time too?"
He nodded, then paused at the first door to meet her eyes when he answered. "I’ve recently started getting along with her family." he thought for a moment, then leaned closer, as if letting her in on a secret. "I was actually the friend of her previous boyfriend, but none of them liked him and so they didn’t trust me much either. But now they’re moving on and so am I."
Y/n did not know how to respond to that, trying to wrap her mind around how anyone could be mad at someone who seemed as nice as Lucien. But he spared her the struggle.
"That’s a nice cardigan. Where’d you get it from?" His eyes travelled down her body, his gaze appreciative as it landed on the pastel crocheted garment. "Maybe I could get a similar one. We can match."
Y/n blinked at him, then ducked her head, futilely trying to hide her blush.
"Um, I made it myself."
He remained silent for a moment, prompting her to meet his gaze once again.
"You’re kidding."
She blinked again. "Why would I?"
He huffed out a laugh, leaning back against the doorframe. "So, you’re telling me you’re pretty and talented?"
Y/n could not move if she wanted to. She could not think. She could not do anything but stare at him.
This man, one who looked like he belonged on the cover of vogue, was telling her she was pretty?
God help me.
She looked around, flustered by the tiny smile blooming on his face, cocky but also knowing. He knew the effect he had on her and the damned man was enjoying it too much.
"Well, I will let you rest now. After all, you need to get some energy back for later tonight."
If those words had come from anyone else, Y/n would have wondered if they were saying she looked tired and like shit, but coming from him, the words were nothing but caring, if a touch flirtatious.
Wait, was that an innuendo?
She did not have time to dwell on that part much before he stepped aside, swiping his arm toward the door behind him. "Take a look at both rooms, then pick one you want. I will wait."
Y/n dipped her head, trying not to blush even more when he opened the door for her and leaned back, letting her pass.
She was much too flustered to even look around the room, let alone see if she liked it or wanted the other room, so she just mumbled to him that she will stay in this one, that he could take the other room.
Y/n knew he was about to ask her if she was sure, but whatever he saw in her face had him nodding, stepping back out of the room, tugging the door close with him as he went.
"See you soon, sweetheart." His parting words were heavy with the same knowing lilt he had a few minutes back when he had been flirting with her. It made Y/n’s cheeks heat up, and she turned to the bed, plopping down and burying her face in the plush pillows.
He was flirting with me.
Maybe… Feyre was right about him. Maybe I should give him a chance.
°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°
After a light lunch and a few hours of rest, everyone had simultaneously gathered in the living room as if summoned by a silent command. Y/n had tried to sleep, and had accomplished the feat, but at the cost of tossing and turning every five minutes for an hour, her mind refusing to let her wind down and repeatedly playing the memories of Lucien flirting.
At least, she thought he was flirting. Y/n hoped she was not making a fool of herself for thinking that he was flirting while he simply was being kind.
She had gotten all of two hours of sleep before she shoved the covers off of her and decided to take a shower to freshen up, then she had proceeded to don a flowy sundress and walked downstairs. The hallways were empty, the only sign that she was not alone being the twins in the kitchen. They offered Y/n a smile before introducing themselves, then asked her if she needed anything.
Y/n had thought about it, then shook her head, telling them she just wanted to get some water. They graciously handed her a glass of it, despite her protests, and then they left her to her own devices.
She had just been sipping on it while staring at the sun setting when footsteps behind her let her know she was no longer alone, and she turned to look at Morrigan and Elain, who had walked down together. They offered her a smile, then sat along with her at the counter in swivelling chairs, the quiet comfortable and peaceful.
That was, before Cassian decided to grace them with his presence.
"Are Feyre and Rhys still not here?"
Y/n blinked, tearing her eyes away from the now violet horizon, barely any sliver of light visible, and gave him a smile. "Not yet."
He gagged. "They’re probably doing nasty stuff."
Nesta walked in with Gwyn and Azriel behind her, her eyebrows high.
"Like you don’t fuck."
He glared at Nesta. "Can you be a little more crass? I am trying to make new friends here."
Y/n hid her smile behind her cup, but considering it was a clear glass, she did not think it would work very well.
"So Y/n, what do you do during free time?"
Y/n set her now empty cup aside, turning all her attention to Cassian, who was done bickering with his fiance.
"I do crocheting while listening to podcasts, or I read when I just want to wind down. I also write."
He nodded appreciatively. "So you’re a creative person, huh."
"And she has a very pretty smile too."
Y/n felt her cheeks heating up already when she heard Lucien’s voice, but when she finally comprehended what he had said, she wondered if she’d just melt off.
God. Please, help me.
She tried not to meet his eyes, because even knowing him for barely a few hours, she knew he’d give her a knowing smirk, his eyes bright.
Cassian chuckled, and Y/n could feel everyone’s eyes on her.
Fuck.
Thankfully, Feyre and Rhysand finally arrived and took the attention away from her, and she felt like she could finally breathe again.
The couple asked what everyone wanted for dinner, bickering around for a few moments while Lucien, Elain, Azriel and Y/n watched.
Before long, Mor announced she was craving some barbecue, and when no one argued further, Rhys told everyone to gather on the back porch that faced the beach while he got the things out. When Y/n offered to help along with Feyre and Gwyn, Rhysand just told them to sit back and relax.
And then he dragged the other men with him.
Guess they won’t be getting any relaxing time.
The night passed almost too quickly to be natural, and Y/n already felt like she’d known these people for her whole life. Nesta and Gwyn refused to let anyone else talk to her because they were too busy asking her of all the books she’d read and inquiring whether she was planning on publishing.
Y/n could see Feyre pouting in the corner, but eventually Mor engaged her in a conversation, so Y/n’s guilt at not being able to give her friend enough time subsided.
When Nesta and Gwyn finally got distracted, Y/n leaned back, taking in the cool air when her neck prickled. Looking around, she met the gaze of Lucien from over the glowing barbeque, her cheeks flushing even when he hadn’t said or done anything. But he continued to look at her, the slightest tilt to those inviting lips.
Smug bastard.
When everything was cooked, Rhys called everyone to the outdoor dining table, the wood rich but warm, homey.
Y/n found two seats next to Gwyn, who beckoned her over. She smiled and had just settled down next to her new friend when she realised someone was sitting down next to her on the empty seat.
And it was not Feyre.
Mismatched eyes found her surprised gaze, and Lucien grinned at her.
"Lucien! That was my seat!"
He held eye contact with Y/n for a long moment before turning to a fuming Feyre. "Well, you can sit on my lap, darlin’. But I am already too comfortable in this seat to move."
Feyre huffed, the perfect picture of annoyance. But Y/n could see the glint in her eyes that told her that Feyre was having way too much fun right now watching Y/n blush.
When Feyre turned away to pout at her grinning fiance, Lucien leaned close to Y/n. "Or maybe, you can sit on my lap and I can give this seat to Feyre?"
Y/n turned away, trying to hide the warm flush on her skin at that. "I think Feyre will find herself another seat."
He chuckled quietly but let the topic go after that.
In the end, Feyre sat at the seat on the right of the head seat of the table, next to Lucien. Rhysand sat at the head, opposite Azriel, who occupied the seat on the other side of Gwyn, refusing to leave her side.
Everyone started to serve themselves, but just as Y/n was contemplating what to get, Lucien leaned past her, his scent enveloping her along with his warmth, and grabbed some grilled chicken.
"Try this, it’s good." With that, he put a few pieces on her plate, then continued to serve himself. He seemed so nonchalant, so careless as if he hadn’t just set Y/n’s heart on fire.
Like he wasn’t the reason she could not think straight.
°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°
Y/n did not know how the days passed so quickly. Agreed, it was a four day getaway, and yet it felt like barely any time passed and it was already the day they had to return home.
If she had to be honest, she did not want to leave the bed. Her limbs felt like they were tied down, heavy metal placed on top to stop her from moving. She felt so tired, as if her body was trying to stay here just a little longer, and maybe being tired would get her to stay.
Which was the reason why she forced herself to push off the covers and set her legs on the cold, wood floor and traipsed sleepily towards the window to check if she had missed the sunrise again. She had been wanting to watch it since they all arrived, but every day for the past three days, she had slept away without a care.
She’d had to set an additional alarm to wake up earlier.
The sky outside was dark, almost blue. But she knew dawn wasn’t far off.
She hurried to freshen up, then walked down the stairs to get herself a glass of water.
After she had acquired her drink, she stepped out and settled down on the two seater swing on the back porch, under her own room’s balcony. The air was chilly, but not enough to have her want to get up and bring a shawl or something to keep herself warm.
She also felt really lazy as she began sipping on her water slowly.
Gosh, I love water.
She refrained from drinking anything that was not water or milk.
She was also lactose intolerant, but, who really cares about that.
Y/n had just leaned back, wrapping both her hands around her cup when she heard movement behind her. But she let herself relax, knowing it probably was Lucien.
That was one of the many things she’d learned about him in the past days.
He always woke up at dawn. He apparently then did some light gym when he could before breakfast, to keep himself in that drool worthy body.
His words, not mine.
Okay… Maybe mine.
And maybe, just maybe, Y/n had wanted to witness her first ever sunrise, had wanted to wake up earlier even though she disliked being up early just so she could spend some extra time with him.
Maybe.
It didn’t take him long to settle down beside her, his own cup of steaming beverage in hand. It looked like green tea to Y/n, who’d had experience with making it for her father nearly every day.
"Good morning." His voice was rough, the sleep evident in it.
Don’t blush, don't blush. He’s just said good morning.
She blushed. Just a little. "Morning."
"Sleep well?"
Y/n nodded, watching him from her peripherals as the swing dipped slightly with his added weight.
"Still sleepy though. First time I woke up by myself to watch the sunrise." She paused for a moment, glancing at him. His lips were curled to one side as he stared out over the beach, his gaze fixated to the horizon. She shrugged. "Usually it’s by my family dragging me and bullying me into waking up early."
He huffed out a chuckle, but after that let silence settle between them.
The air was so peaceful, it brought a sense of calm over Y/n.
Maybe she could get used to this.
The two sat and watched as the sun rose, so slowly but also too fast. Y/n wished to enjoy this time forever, wanted to continue taking in the soft orange and pink hues that painted the sky as the glowing ball of fire rose higher in the sky. Wanted to bask in the presence that nestled into the pillows next to her, wanted to ink the sound of his soft breathing permanently into her existence.
It was over too soon, and even though Y/n savoured every second of it, she could not help but feel a sense of longing the moment Lucien straightened. She did not want to let go of this moment just yet.
He seemed to think so too.
Just when she thought he’d get up and walk back inside, he turned his head to stare at her.
"So, who’s the cute guy you were talking about last night with Fey?"
Y/n’s lips quirked up, a sudden burst of boldness spurring her on. But she paused as she thought back to Feyre’s words the previous night.
"Do you like him?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Oh please, I see the way you blush when he’s near. I see the way he follows you around like a lost puppy. I am not naive, sweet pea."
Y/n sighed. "I guess he’s cute."
Feyre squealed. "You need to go on a date with him."
If Y/n gave him the truthful answer, would she be making a fool of herself? Would she be doing herself the biggest favour ever? Did he even like her that way?
Finally, she decided that if she never tried, she might regret it later.
Feeling her gaze on him, she turned, knowing he waited for her answer. He sported a cheeky grin, eyes half lidded, as if he was more relaxed than he’d ever been.
She leaned in conspiratorially.
"You."
His grin faded, and he sat up straighter.
"What?"
"You’re the cute guy we were talking about."
He blinked, and Y/n did her best to hide her smug smile at the way his ears darkened with colour.
"Are you joking or flirting?" he mumbled, brows furrowed.
Oh, so he can flirt, but can’t take the flirting?
She told herself to remember that tidbit for later.
Y/n could not help it then. She let loose the smirk that broke out of her, and leaned closer still, so close that she could feel his breath on her face, so close that she knew that if she were to inhale, his lingering cologne from the previous day would take over every one of her senses.
Maintaining eye contact, she whispered.
"Flirting."
He did not move anything except for his eyes as she stood, his gaze following her like a physical caress. Just before she turned the corner out of his eyesight, she glanced back at him.
And winked.
She watched as a disbelieving grin formed on his lips, and then decided that was enough flirting for a year at least and ascended the stairs back to her room.
Feyre will lose her mind.
As soon as she closed the door behind her, she no longer felt that burst of confidence that came out of nowhere. Suddenly, she was a blushing mess as she shoved her face into the pillows and tried to calm her racing heart.
Her phone pinged then.
Feyre: ‘Lucien just texted me asking for your number. Is it okay if I give it?’
Y/n bit her lip to keep away the flustered smile. Just as she told Feyre to give it to him, she texted back.
Feyre: ‘Is there something I need to know? Why are you up so early anyway?’
Summary - Basically Lucien smut with very little plot
Warnings - fluff, smut (p in v), forbidden love, oral (f!receiving), slight breeding kink, Lucien being the man of my dreams xo
Water baby.
Lucien had always called you it, and at first you had found it rather patronising, but you soon warmed up to the sweet pet name he had bestowed to you.
There had been countless occasions where he would stroll through the gardens of the Spring Court manor and find you idly floating in one of the ponds or fountains. Lucien would stand at the waters edge silently, enjoying the way the water made your dress stick to your skin and turn it almost translucent to the point where he could make out the faint peaks of your nibbles beneath the fabric. That wasn't his favourite part, no, it was the serene smile that would always form upon your lips.
Sometimes you would open your bright eyes and find him stood there, and you'd engage in conversation with him, polite and elegant as always. But other times you wouldn't open your eyes at all, and Lucien had often stood there until he was called away, enjoying the joy etched onto your face.
No one knew what drew you to the water. Tamlin had always teased you about it, telling you to go and drown whenever you had a spat to which you'd simply flip off with your usual level of sarcasm and ire. It had always caused Lucien to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing.
Being Tamlin's sister meant that you were off-limits to him, even Tamlin had said that Lucien was not worthy of someone so light and perfect as you. Coming from Spring, it had made sense that you were at one with nature, not only were you a shifter like your brother and father, but you were also able to manipulate the earth, to sprout flowers in the palms of your hands and grow trees with a single thought if you required a touch of shade whist you floated in the streams.
Animals also adored you, bounding from the forest if they caught a speckle of your scent, one of early morning sunlight and lilies. It wasn't rare to see you lying in the grass with a school of new-born fox pups basking in your glow, stretching across your stomach as you read beneath the willow tree atop the mound to the west of the large estate.
"Why does everyone think that she's so perfect? She's a pain in the ass," Tamlin asked to no one in particular as he stared out of the window, catching a glimpse of you trapsing through the gardens with a fox in tow dressed in a sage green ensemble that brushed over your shoulders to expose your dainty freckles to the air.
Lucien hummed in reply, "Because she is perfect," he told his friend and High Lord, chuckling at the eye roll from Tamlin as he mumbled that he knew that you were, but that didn't mean that you weren't a pain in the ass.
To everyone else, you were the Daughter of Spring, a fair and benevolent creature that the fae genuinely believed was a decedent of the gods, maybe even the Mother herself. But to those within the manor, you were a rebellious thing, consistently pushing the limits of your freedom. Alis enjoyed your spirit far too much.
So did Lucien.
Tamlin had excused himself to patrol the boarder shortly after, fixing his green riding jacket to his frame and untucking his hair from the collar, leaving Lucien alone within the dining room.
Shortly after his departure, you entered the ornate dining space where Lucien sat reading over reports with a book between your fingers. You glanced about the room, noticing his arched brow of inquiry before closing the doors behind you and turning the lock; you crossed the gleaming oaken floor, enjoying the manner in which Lucien leant back in his chair and parted his legs, watching each step you took like a predator assessing its prey.
There was no denying Lucien's beauty. Everything he was, you beheld. The long red hair that you often braided when you were alone, braids that he would fight to keep in place and when a singular one would unwind he would find any reason to visit you and have you fix it. The russet orbs that glimmered in the sunlight made you weak. Then there was the issue of his body, his perfectly sculpted and muscular body that was so alluring that it was difficult to not be wrapped around him at all times.
Sighing, you nestled yourself onto his thighs, hitching your skirt around your waist as you shuffled to make yourself comfortable, you draped your arms lazily around his neck, lowering yourself to capture a chaste kiss from his lips, "Has Tamlin ventured from the estate?"
Lucien smirked at your words, his body tingling from the sensation your lips next to his ear brought him, "You know that I despise it when you talk about your brother when you're sat on me, my love."
His large hands rested on your hips, keeping you steady as your body straddled him; you laughed at his words, his humour matching your own, and you sank further down on him, feeling his cock twitch beneath the fabric of his briefs, "Would you rather I got off?" Your voice was light and held a level of teasing to it, and you slowly began to dismount Lucien, stopping in your tracks when his grip tightened and held you in place.
"Well I never said that," Lucien leaned forward, his hands travelling up to rest on the centre of your back despite the table cushioning your weight from behind. His finger traced down your throat all the way down your sternum, pausing at the corset of your dress that he had heard you complain of that morning, stating that Alis had secured it too tightly to your figure.
A wickedly feline glint consumed his stare, his finger dipped into the corset that was so tight that he could feel your heartbeat against the digit and leaned further to capture your lips against his, trailing kisses along your jaw until he found that certain sweet spot beneath your ear.
Emitting a breathless moan, you threw your head back as his lips worked their way to the curve of your breasts, "We can't. What if Tamlin comes back?"
"Let him," Lucien idly pulled at the strings of your corset, tugging each rung loose as he spoke against your skin, "I'm not the one who has the issue telling Tamlin that we're mates." Lucien continued to kiss along your breasts and collarbone, softly sucking and nipping at the skin.
"He'd be furious," you ground down on his lap, a low growl emitted from his lips, so low and dangerous that it made heat pool between your legs.
"I. Don't. Care." Lucien lifted you into the air and set you down atop the table, standing between your open legs and taking your head in his hand, willing it to the side to give him better access to the neck that haunted his dreams.
"Luc," you breathed, feeling weak under him, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the corset holding your breasts in place so that he could dip his head low and swirl his tongue around your right nipple.
That simple action had your back arching against him, and Lucien smirked at the scent of your arousal infiltrating his consciousness.
Lucien indulged the unconvincing scolding, planting his palms either side of you and pulling back slightly, "What is it, baby? Do you want me to stop?" Lucien drifted the tip of his nose down the bridge of your own, enveloping you in his scent, in the same scent that you had both worked hard to glamour from your brother.
"Gods no," your mouths collided in a battle of lips and teeth, Lucien captured your bottom lip between his canines and used the action to prise your mouth open just enough for his tongue to roll against your own; his hands slid up your thighs and rested just inches away from where you needed them to go, his thumbs dragging over your skin teasingly.
"That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips, his rough toned voice making your core clench with need, you always loved it when he called you that, his girl, and the damned bastard knew it.
Lucien's lips trailed from your mouth, leaving open mouthed kisses across your breasts that were exposed thanks to his handiwork at unfastening your corset and pulling it down your arms so that all you wore was your dress around your waist. You were the most magnificent creature he had ever seen, and you were his, his until the day you both ceased to exist.
Your mate dropped to his knees, looping his arms under your legs and pulling you to the edge of the table. His warm breath swept between your thighs as his eyes dropped to meet your core that was begging for his touch, "Always so eager," the vibration of the words against his lips made you shudder, realising how close he truly was from tasting you.
Without waiting for your reply, he ran his tongue up your folds, humming at the decadent taste of you on his lips and your body jolted at the touch. His tongue swirled around your clit, assessing the perfect spot he knew would have you screaming his name in a matter of minutes and pressed a light kiss to the area, smirking at the breathless moan that escaped your lips. "Luc, please," you whined, his hands had pried your legs apart and had moved to grasp onto the flesh of your ass, spreading you to give him better access.
Lucien attached his lips to that bundle of nerves, winding his lips around it and sucking gently, flicking his tongue against it and running a finger through your folds, "So needy," he mumbled against you.
Arching your back from the table, you slid your fingers into his hair, gently tugging him closer and moving against his face, rolling your hips against the graceful and fire-tinged flick of his tongue against you. It was so sinful, to have his head buried between your thighs pulling every moan and mewl from you that he could whilst you lay on the table where you had dinner each night, nipples piqued upward toward the ceiling and juices coating the table edge.
Your mate sensed your urgency, mainly from the way you were grinding against his tongue; Lucien coiled his fingers around your thighs, keeping your legs in place despite your writhing against the table and fingers clawing against his scalp with desperation. It didn't take him long to find the specific spot that had you crying out, he pushed two fingers into you, pumping them inside and curling them upward to meet the rough spot inside of your walls, keeping a steady pace when you cried out his name to the skies; a hot white heat consumed your body, his fingers stretched you deliciously, preparing you for what was to come.
But Lucien was a gentleman, he always made sure that your pleasure came first, and he was happy to serve you in whatever way you needed him to.
"Tell me," he pressed a kiss to your folds, smirking at the jolt the touch sent through your body before rising and pulling you upright to meet his chest. One of his hands cupped your jaw, making your cock-dazed eyes find his whilst his other unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his briefs, pulling his cock from the fabric and pumping it twice in his fingers, "Do you prefer the stars above or the ones I make you see?"
It wasn't a question that you needed to answer, you couldn't anyway, your mind still calming from the orgasm that had ripped through it only moments before; your legs still quaked as he settled himself between them, running the tip of his cock through your folds and capturing the slick left in the wake of his tongue ravaging you. Lucien trailed his lips along your shoulder, tasting your sun kissed skin and pecking against the herds of freckles that appeared when the sun was strongest.
Capturing your lips against his own, Lucien pushed into you, pushing until he was hilted and waiting a moment for you to adjust, your walls quivering around him threatening to become undone within a matter of minutes. A low growl fell from him, his fingers raked through your hair and he rolled his hips, thrusting so slowly that it allowed you to feel every single inch of his cock stretching your walls. Lucien's movements quickened slightly but it was still torturous to endure, but you loved the feeling of having him inside of you too much, the way he rocked his hips into you, the way his fingers coiled around the base of your neck and the way his lips pressed sloppy kisses on your mouth. All of it was enough to drive you irrevocably wild.
The frenzy had come and gone, you had decided to accept the bond during a time when you knew Tamlin would be gone for long enough for Lucien to be able to act somewhat normal around him. You had spent two weeks in that bed being fucked by fire, and even if you did rise from the comfort of the bed against his wishes, Lucien would always find you and drag you into the nearest cupboard, pinning your chest against the wall and taking you from behind without a single care as to who could have seen him or heard your mewls.
Though, the desire for him to be always buried inside of you had never faltered, and he would make sure to visit you nightly to remind you of that fact, even if he had to climb up the vines outside of your window to stay undetected.
"You look so good with my cock in you," Lucien's voice was low, his hands cupped your face and he moaned at each thrust you met with your hips; he dragged his thumb across your swollen lips, red and puckered from the onslaught of his mouth, neck coloured from his possessive markings.
The table groaned against the ground, rocking with every movement as Lucien's pace hardened, part of him eating itself alive to stay inside you for as long as possible, but the other part of him anxious about Tamlin returning a minute too early and tearing him to shreds.
"Do you know how much I love you?" You panted through the moans Lucien was drawing from your pretty little mouth and ran your fingers up his arms, setting his nerve endings on fire with the lingering touch of your fingers against his skin, tracing the muscles sculpted by the gods.
"Tell me," his fingers lightly wrapped around your throat, pulling your chest to his, making your eyes peer upward through their lashes at the perfect male rolling into you whose own gaze had darkened at your question.
Lucien's other hand travelled between your legs, his index finger circling around your clit and causing your breath to catch in your throat that bobbed against his grip. Lucien repeated his order, his grasp tightening around your neck and pace quickening so that you could hear your skin sounding against his, "I love you so much that I would walk away from this life to live in the middle of nowhere with you, just us, a life of our own." Lucien groaned at the image, returning home from catching fish in the streams with his bare hands to his perfect mate and even more perfect babes, "I love you so much that the thought of being with child, your child, brings me nothing but serenity," you widened your eyes deliciously, doe-like and innocent, knowing what those words did to him, "You can give me what I want, can't you?"
Lucien's resolve was fading, and the grunts that were sounding from him were edging you closer and closer to one of your favourite places. His index finger continued drawing soft mewls from your lips, your walls tightening around his cock as it slammed continuously into you, surely cracking the legs of the table with each movement, "Yes. I can," his hand moved to the back of your neck, forcing your lips to meet his in a symphony of desire and adoration, and the final few circles of his fingers had you coming undone within moments.
A white hot flash poured through you, had you crying out against his lips, and the convulsions of your walls drew Lucien to the same fate. Lucien fucked you with the fire you had always wondered about long before you had found out that you were mates, his moans delicious enough to send you into a haze as he emptied himself into you, continuing to roll into you to fuck his seed in as far as it could go, determined to give you what you desired.
Lucien's movements slowed, the feral beast tamed and locked deep within him, and he lowered his face to catch your lips once more, not wanting to remove himself from you like usual, but for a different reason this time. He pressed his forehead to yours, russet orbs staring into your own with a type of wonderment you hadn't seen before, "You'd give it all up, for me?"
"I'd give anything for you," and it was true, a life without Lucien wasn't one you wanted to live, so if Tamlin did find out and exile him, you'd follow. The simple life became much more appealing each passing day. "And, to answer your question," you ran your fingers down the contours of his arms and up his chest, curling them over his shoulders, "I think I much prefer the stars you make me see."
Lucien threw his head back and laughed, a smile so beautiful and bright that it could be the most perfect thing you'd ever see in your entire life, and certainly your most favourite thing in the universe.
Lucien's laughter dimmed and his eyes found you again, his hands worked seamlessly to pull your dress back up over your arms, kissing every inch of skin of your shoulders as he tied the corset against your skin, though, he removed your panties from your legs, folding them into his pocket and smirking at your inquisitive arched brow, "I'm not done trying to put my child in you just yet."
content: [ explicit sexual content, sex pollen (so, dub-con), unprotected PIV, public sex (forest setting), language, rough sex, biting/marking ]
summary: Seeking refuge from court politics in a secluded part of the forest, Lucien meets a female from the Summer Court searching for a hidden spring. He offers to guide her, but their journey takes an unexpected turn when he comes into contact with a mysterious pollen...
author's note: this idea has been cooking in the back of my mind since i finished the first book back in december, so i'm happy to finally share it :) writing some of his lines and the narration had me swooning i love him your honor
Lucien let out a long breath as the sounds of the court faded behind him. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the forest floor with warm patches that shifted in the gentle breeze. He closed his eyes, focusing on the soft rustling of branches and distant birdsong. It was rare to find such quiet moments, free from the constant dance of court politics and expectations. As the tension in his shoulders slowly eased, Lucien allowed his thoughts to wander, no longer needing to guard every expression and word.
His brow furrowed as he mulled over the latest reports from their border scouts. Hybern was growing bolder, their movements more frequent and less concealed. He’d tried to discuss it with Tamlin, but the High Lord seemed more concerned with maintaining the illusion of peace, instead focusing his people and efforts on the upcoming Calanmai festivities.
A twig snapped beneath Lucien’s boot as he began to pace. Rumors were swirling through the courts. Whispers of Hybern’s king sending one of his most cunning generals to Prythian. Amarantha, they called her. The name tasted like ash on his tongue.
He paused, leaning against a tree trunk, its rough bark grounding him. How long could the Spring Court afford to turn a blind eye? How long before the fragile peace between the courts shattered under the weight of this looming threat? Lucien’s gaze swept across the peaceful forest, so at odds with the turmoil in his mind. He’d seen firsthand how quickly alliances could shift, how devastating the fallout could be. This time, he vowed silently, he’d be prepared. Whatever storm was coming, he’d do everything in his power to ensure Spring weathered it.
His ears pricked at the sound of rustling leaves, followed by the snap of a twig. In an instant, his posture changed from relaxed to alert. His hand flew to the dagger at his hip, drawing it in one fluid motion as he spun towards the source of the noise, russet eyes scanning the brush.
A figure emerged from behind a large oak, and Lucien found himself face to face with a female High Fae. She froze, eyes wide, clearly not expecting to encounter anyone else in this secluded part of the forest. Lucien’s grip on his dagger loosened slightly as he took in the unexpected sight before him. The female stood there, clearly startled, holding a woven tote bag over one shoulder. Her hair flowed slightly in the wind, and she wore a sheer, cream-colored crochet cover-up that did little to conceal the black swimsuit underneath. The ensemble was revealing for a trek through the forest.
“Sorry to interrupt, kind sir,” she said sarcastically. “Just passing through.”
Lucien raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“How could you possibly know that? You don’t even—”
“You’re looking for the spring, right? It’s not that way.” He gestured to his left, far ahead. “It’s hidden, and not in the direction you were headed.”
She crossed her arms, clearly skeptical. “And you know this because…?”
Lucien chuckled softly. “Because I’ve spent more time exploring these woods than I’d like to admit.”
She started walking off in the direction he signaled, and he jogged a bit to keep pace with her. “I can show you the way, if you’d like.”
After a moment’s hesitation, came a shrug and a nonchalant response. “Alright, lead the way then.”
He didn’t try to hide his smirk at her casual demeanor.
As they fell into step together, he couldn’t help but notice the graceful way she moved across the uneven forest floor. He broke the silence after a moment.
“You’re not from the Spring Court, are you?” he asked, his tone light and teasing.
Her lips formed a small smile. “Is it that obvious? I’m visiting from the Summer Court. I heard tales of the hidden natural springs here and couldn’t resist seeking them out,” she replied. “And the heat wave made the idea of a cool spring irresistible.”
Summer, he mused. She had a brightness about her, a warmth that seemed out of place in the cool shade of the forest.
He chuckled. “Well, you’re in for a treat. Just beyond those trees over there, through the vines. I must admit, Summer, you certainly know how to find the most intriguing places.”
She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “‘Summer’?”
He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “Seems fitting for a female as radiant as yourself.”
An eye roll failed to hide the smile tugging at the corners of her soft lips.
“I’m Lucien,” he said, extending his hand with his palm up.
She hesitated for a moment before placing her hand gently in his. “(Y/N),” she replied, her eyes meeting his with a spark of curiosity and amusement.
“A pleasure, Summer,” Lucien said, his voice low and smooth. He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss across the back of it.
She laughed, a melodic sound that seemed to blend with the sounds of spring around them. “Nice to meet you too, Lucien.”
He lingered for a moment, their hands still lightly clasped, before finally releasing her. “Shall we?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips, his eyes twinkling with intent.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Their conversation flowed easily as they walked, with Lucien pointing out various plants and sharing tidbits about them.
“What’s this one?” she asked, pointing to a vibrant blue flower.
“That’s moonbloom. It only opens at night, used in sleeping draughts,” Lucien explained, pleased by her interest.
“And that? The tree with the silver bark?”
“Whisperwood. The Court’s best instruments are carved from it.”
Their exchange continued, with Lucien sharing more about the flora they passed. Eventually, he turned the conversation to her.
“Tell me about the Summer Court. I’ve spent some time there, though I suspect there’s always more to learn.”
“It’s vibrant and full of life. There are endless festivities, stunning beaches, and exquisite food. I may be biased but of all the courts I’ve visited, Summer definitely has the best cuisine. People are already preparing for the solstice even though it’s barely March.” A soft sigh. “But… the constant activity, the heat… it can be a bit overwhelming.”
Time seemed to slip away as they walked, the forest around them a lush backdrop to their discussion. Eventually, they reached a curtain of vines hanging between two ancient trees.
Lucien stepped forward gently parting the greenery. A fine, glittering pollen dusted his hand as he brushed against the vines. He blinked, momentarily disoriented by a sudden rush of warmth through his body, but he attributed it to the day’s heat.
"After you," he said, holding the vines open with a slight bow, trying to shake off the lightheadedness.
Amusement and appreciation danced in her eyes, accompanied by a warm smile as she stepped through the vines. Lucien followed, letting the vines fall back into place behind them. As they walked, a sweet scent filled his senses — warm vanilla mingled with honey and a hint of sea salt. He found himself inhaling deeply, drawn to the aroma.
As they rounded a large boulder, the spring came into view, its serene beauty unfolding before them. The sight before them was breathtaking. A lush, verdant oasis spread out in a natural amphitheater, encircled by towering trees draped with cascading vines. The milky white pool at the center was fed by a small, delicate waterfall, its gentle cascade a soothing murmur that filled the air. Vibrant moss cloaked the surrounding rocks and tree roots, forming an ethereal green expanse that stretched to the water’s edge. Exotic flowers in vibrant hues dotted the landscape, their colors a stark contrast to the predominantly green surroundings. Above, the canopy formed a natural dome, with sunlight filtering through the intricate patterns of leaves, casting a magical glow over the alcove.
"It's beautiful," her words were hardly more than a breath, eyes widening in genuine awe as she tentatively stepped deeper into the sanctuary.
Lucien nodded, his gaze drawn between the spring and his companion. "The minerals in the water give it that color," he explained, his voice taking on a rich, velvety quality that surprised even him. He cleared his throat and leaned against a tree, arms crossed. He watched as she set her woven tote bag onto a nearby rock. Reaching over her shoulder to unfasten the tie of her cover-up, the delicate fabric slipped off her shoulders, revealing soft, smooth skin. The way the bikini she wore fit every dip and curve deliciously. His breath hitched as his russet eyes lingered on her, watching her with an intensity that surprised him.
Flip flops discarded, she dipped a toe into the water, a shiver running up her spine as the coolness contrasted with the warm air. “Oh, that’s refreshing,” she murmured, taking a tentative step into the spring.
The water was unlike any she had ever felt, a soothing mixture of cool and silky, enveloping her in a comforting embrace. She fully submerged herself, the refreshing sensation washing over her as she disappeared beneath the surface. When she emerged, droplets of water clung to her skin, shimmering in the sunlight.
A warmth spread through Lucien’s veins, his pulse quickening as he watched her. The way the sunlight played on her skin, highlighting the gentle curves and the elegance of her movements, captivated him. His thoughts grew hazy, his usually sharp focus dulled by the inexplicable urge to be closer to her. His gaze traced the line of her neck, watching as the breeze gently lifted strands of her hair. Every subtle shift, every graceful motion seemed to draw him in further. The serene pool and vibrant surroundings had practically faded, leaving only the mesmerizing vision of his Summer Court visitor before him.
His…?
Lucien shook his head a bit, a useless attempt to rid himself of the growing intensity of his thoughts. It had to be the heat, it was getting to him.
“You look hot,” she said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Lucien blinked, momentarily flustered as he took in the way her wet hair clung to her, the bathing suit now a shade darker and clinging to her curves. She looked exquisite, the milky white water droplets glistening on her skin like tiny jewels. “So do you, Summer,” he replied, a playful smirk forming on his lips.
She laughed, the sound like a light, bubbling brook. “I meant you’re dressed too warmly for this weather. Why don’t you join me and cool off?”
Lucien felt a rush of heat that had nothing to do with the weather. He forced himself to move slowly, deliberately, as he began to undress. His fingers deftly unfastened his tunic, revealing a chiseled chest and toned muscles beneath. The sunlight filtering through the leaves cast tantalizing shadows across his skin, highlighting every ridge and contour.
As he shrugged off his tunic, he noticed the sticky pollen coating his hand. He tried to rub it off onto the fabric, but it clung stubbornly to his skin. He frowned slightly. No matter, it would come off in the water.
He continued undressing, kicking off his boots and undoing his belt, letting it fall to the forest floor. As he slipped out of his trousers, now standing in just his boxers, he couldn’t help but notice her eyes following his every move.
Lucien caught her gaze and held it, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. He had been watching her watch him the entire time, a fact she only realized when she tore her eyes away from his body and looked up to meet his gaze.
With deliberate grace, he stepped into the water, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat bubbling beneath his skin. The spring’s translucent white waters swirled around his calves as he waded deeper, his eyes never leaving hers.
He finally submerged himself, the water rippling around him as he moved closer to her. “Better?” he asked, his voice low and intimate, the playful smirk returning to his lips.
She felt her pulse quicken, the sight of him, all muscle and smooth confidence, stirring something deep within her. “Much,” she replied, a smile playing at her lips.
They floated together in the cool water, the soothing embrace of the spring relaxing their muscles. Lucien watched as she dipped her head back, letting her hair float around her like a halo. She closed her eyes, a look of pure bliss on her face.
“This place is incredible,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “I can’t believe it’s real.”
Lucien smiled, his own tension easing in the tranquil atmosphere. “It’s one of the Spring Court’s hidden gems. Not many know about it.”
Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his with a flicker of curiosity. “How did you find it?”
He shrugged, moving closer. “I stumbled upon it years ago, during a particularly stressful time. This general area of the forest has been my escape ever since.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the peaceful surroundings and the coolness of the water. Lucien felt a tingling heat spreading through his body, no longer the gentle warmth of before. His thoughts kept drifting back to the female in front of him, the way her skin glistened with water droplets, to the curve of her lips when she smiled. He wanted to feel those lips.
He tried to push the thoughts aside, but the more he tried to ignore it, the more intense it became, his desire for her was becoming harder to control, the need to touch her, to feel her against him, was almost overwhelming.
“This spring is said to have unique properties,” he continued, his eyes lingering on her face, her eyes, her lips. “Some say that bathing in its waters can bring good fortune, or help with one’s artistic talents.” He chuckled softly. “But others speak of it being enchanted in a more intimate way.”
This provoked a turn of the head and a raised eyebrow, curiosity peaked. "Well, I never cared much for fortune, and I’m a sorry excuse for an artist,” she laughed softly. “So what have you heard? About the intimacies of the spring?” An almost knowing smile graced her lips.
He swallowed, trying to cover it up with a nonchalant shrug. “They say,” he began, slowly, “that the waters can awaken one’s deepest desires. Enhance one’s… physical urges.”
She smirked at that. “Sounds to me like whoever came up with that got to this spring already horny,” she laughed. At the shit-eating grin on his face, her laughter grew infectious. “Oh, shut the fuck up,” she said, playfully shoving his shoulder.
But the touch was searing. He hissed, a jolt of electricity shot through Lucien’s body, his skin burning where her fingers made contact. His pulse quickened, and he felt a raw, primal need flare up inside him. The laughter faded, replaced by a charged silence. Every muscle in his body tensed as he struggled to keep composed.
“Lucien?” Concern laced her voice. She reached out for him, but he flinched away from her touch, bringing his hands up to stop her. Hurt flashed across her face until she noticed… “What’s that on your hand?”
She reached out again, but he pulled his hand back, glancing at the sticky pollen coating his skin. Suddenly, it clicked. He knew what this was, had heard tales of its effects but had never encountered it personally.
“It’s… it’s this pollen,” he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “It must’ve been on the vines at the entrance. I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together…”
A mix of curiosity and concern filled her eyes. “What does it do?”
Lucien took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He could hear his heart thrumming in his ears and wanted nothing more in that moment than to throw himself at the female mere feet across from him. “The pollen is known to,” he pauses with a sigh, choosing his words carefully. “It causes arousal, an intense arousal, making it almost impossible to think about anything else. It heightens every sensation, makes my skin feel like it’s on fire whenever you touch me.” She could see his chest rising and falling more shallowly, could hear his breaths coming more rapidly, could see his pupils dilate each time he looked at her. He hesitantly added, “The only way to get rid of its effects is through… physical intimacy.”
Her eyes widened slightly, understanding dawning on her. “You mean…?”
He nodded, though his regretful expression barely concealed his longing. “Yes, but don’t concern yourself. This isn’t your problem to solve,” he said, his voice strained yet resolute. “I’ll return home and find a way to… handle this. You’re under no obligation here.”
Lucien’s jaw clenched, clearly struggling with the pollen’s effects, but his eyes remained steady. “I apologize, it was careless of me not to recognize the signs sooner.”
With that, he turned, moving to exit the spring and retrieve his clothes. The cool water swirled around him as he took a step, but he felt a hand grasp his bicep, halting his retreat. The contact sent a shockwave of heat through his body, as if her hold would be permanently marked on the flesh there. His muscles coiled tightly beneath her touch, and he had to force himself to contain a whimper that threatened to escape his throat. Every sensation was amplified, transforming the simple gesture into an exquisite torment. He glanced back, his eyes darkening, surprise giving way to raw, unadulterated need.
“It’s not such an inconvenience,” she said softly, her gaze meeting his with an intensity that made his skin prickle with anticipation.
His eyes widened in surprise, but she rolled hers, a playful smirk forming on her lips. “Don’t act so surprised, Lucien.” His name on her tongue sent a jolt of arousal through him, and he only realized now how painfully constricted his cock was. “It’s obvious I want you, and I think you wanted me even before the pollen?”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “I did. I do.”
Her smirk turned into a gentle smile as she reached out again, tracing a finger down his chest. “So let me help you.”
Lucien’s body tensed, caught between desire and restraint. “Wait,” he said, his voice husky. As he spoke, his hand dipped beneath the water, fingers flexing unconsciously. “You should know… I’ve managed to control myself thus far, but if we continue…” He paused, swallowing hard, his voice dropping to a low, strained growl. “Once I feel you, I won’t be able to stop.”
His fingers curled into a fist underwater. Most of the visible pollen had washed away, leaving only faint traces on his skin, but its effects still coursed through his body. The cool water did nothing to dull the rush of his blood pumping in his ears. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, he refocused on her, his eyes full of want.
“The pollen… it’s mostly gone now,” he managed, his breath nothing more than rhythmic, short pants. “But it’s like it’s under my skin, in my blood. I can feel it everywhere.” He unclenched his fist, watching as the last remnants of the pollen dissipated into the vast pool, now diluted and rendered harmless. “You won’t be affected, but I…” His eyes bore into hers, desperation in his voice as he spoke, “I’m burning for you, (Y/N).”
With a tender smile, she closed the distance between them. Her hands cupped his face, thumbs gently caressing his cheekbones. Lucien's breath caught in his throat, her touch igniting sparks beneath his skin. His hands remained steadfast on the large stone submerged beneath the water behind him, as though touching her might shatter what fragile self-control he had left.
"It's okay," she whispered, her breath ghosting over his lips. "I've got you."
She leaned in, pressing her lips to his with exquisite softness. The kiss was slow, deliberate, a stark contrast to the fire raging within him. Lucien's eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by the sensation. Even in the cool water, heat radiated from his skin, and where her lips met his, it felt as though he might combust.
She drew back slightly, placing feather-light kisses along his jaw, then down his neck. Each touch was like a brand, marking him, stoking the flames of his desire. Seeing his hesitation, she gently guided his trembling hands to her waist. The sensation of her bare skin beneath her fingertips sent a shiver through him, and he instinctively bucked his hips against her, a long, deep whine escaping his lips like a plea. The sound shot straight to her core.
"(Y/N)," he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips.
A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. “Not ‘Summer’ anymore? I was starting to think you’d forgotten my name,” she spoke against his neck.
Lucien’s gaze was unfocused, looking at the vines on the other side of the spring, pupils dilated as he struggled to process her words. His breath came in short, ragged pants, and a fine tremor ran through his body. “Forget your name?” he murmured into her ear, his voice hoarse. Each word seemed to cost him great effort, as if speaking required immense concentration. “Darling, it’s the only word my mind can form right now.”
His fingers tightened on her waist, seeking an anchor as the world around him seemed to blur, leaving only her in sharp focus.
The gentleness of her actions was both a balm and a torment. His body screamed for more, for friction, for release from this exquisite agony. Yet he found himself surrendering to her pace, allowing her to lead him through this intoxicating haze.
She returned to his lips, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. Lucien responded with a low moan, the sound vibrating through both of them. The gentle waves of the spring embraced them, their cool touch contrasting with the heat building between them, intensifying every sensation.
Without breaking the kiss, Lucien’s hands tightened on her waist, subtly guiding them towards a shallower part of the water. He felt the solid presence of a smooth, submerged stone beneath him and sank down onto it, pulling her closer. She straddled him, her legs on either side of his, pressing her body against his so deliciously that he couldn’t help it when his hips bucked up hard against hers. She gasped in surprise, the sound mingling with their shared breath.
“I’m sorry, I—” he began, but she silenced him by grinding down onto him, her movements deliberate and slow, a wordless reassurance that sent yet another pulse of need crashing through him. His mind spun, every point of contact between them sent his nerves into a frenzy. Her skin felt like silk under his fingers, warm and inviting. He let his hands roam, tracing the curve of her back, feeling the subtle shift of muscles beneath her skin. The way she moved against him, the soft gasps and moans escaping her lips, were a symphony that played directly into the hot coil within him. His hands wandered further, exploring every inch of her, committing the feel of her to memory. He caressed her sides, ran his fingers along the edges of her swimsuit. His touch was gently yet firm, reflecting his reverence for her as well as the uncontrollable hunger that coursed through him.
But it wasn’t enough. The burning within him grew fiercer with each passing second. He needed more, craved more. The sensation of her grinding against him was driving him to the edge of sanity. It was sweet torture, the ache of unfulfilled need becoming almost unbearable. Lucien’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his body screaming for more, for release — demanding it. The longing was a physical pain, a fire that consumed him from the inside out.
“Please,” he groaned, his voice rough and low, a powerful undercurrent of desperation threading through it. “I need more, (Y/N). I can’t take it… I need you.” His eyes locked onto hers, a fierce determination in their depths, even as his words pleaded for relief. His grip tightened on her waist, guiding her movements with urgency and restraint, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. “Please,” he repeated, his voice a pained rasp.
“You need me?”
A single, tense nod.
She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the same need. “Then take me,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with anticipation.
Lucien captured her lips once more, much more hungrily this time, their bodies moving together in the water. Her hands raked over the expanse of his back, nails lightly digging in. She relished the feel of his muscles tensing beneath her touch, the warmth of his skin under her fingertips. Every contour and ridge of his body seemed sculpted for her hands alone. The power in his frame, the way he responded to her every touch, sent a thrill through her. Her hands wandered, exploring the strong lines of his shoulders, the firm muscles of his chest, and the tautness of his abdomen. Each caress was deliberate, savoring the sensation of his body and the way it reacted to her.
Lucien's breath hitched as her hands moved lower, feeling the hard planes of his stomach, tracing the edge of his waistband. Her touch was both curious and confident, a gentle exploration and bold possession.
With a low groan and little thought, Lucien's hands moved to her bikini top, tugging it up just enough to expose her chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, only taking a moment to admire them before descending upon them, his mouth eagerly finding her exposed skin. He left a collection of red and purple marks across them, and she couldn't help but hum softly at the sensation.
Smiling, she pulled the bikini top the rest of the way off, tossing it to the shoreline. “Impatient, aren’t we?” she remarked, her voice breathless and not nearly as teasing as she’d hoped it’d be.
Lucien looked up at her, his eyes so different than when they’d first encountered each other not an hour prior, a smirk playing at his lips. “Only for you,” he murmured before his mouth returned to her skin, his kisses hungry and possessive, leaving a trail of marks across her chest. He shifted slightly, the water lapping at his chest. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his shoulder, not ceasing the movement of her hips.
“You’re trembling,” she whispered, concern evident in her voice.
He straightened, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips. “It’s unbearable. Every touch, every breath…I feel like I’m burning from the inside out.” He swallowed hard and brought her hand to the nape of his neck, leaning into her touch as if it were a lifeline.
“Are you sure this is helping…? Maybe we could try—”
“(Y/N),” Lucien interrupted, his eyes wild and craving. “Doing anything but this would destroy me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, but I know… I know that I need you. All of you. I need to feel every inch of you against me.” His gaze locked onto hers, pupils dilated. “Your touch,” he choked out, “is both torment and salvation. I crave it like I crave air to breathe.” Lucien’s hands trembled as they moved to her hips, urging her closer. His fingers splayed across her skin, desperate to eliminate any remaining space between them. “Please,” he whispered, the word barely audible over the soft lapping of the water.
She shivered against him, not from the water, but from the raw emotion in his voice. She brought her hand from the back of his neck to his face, her thumb stroking his cheek.
“Lucien,” his name on her tongue was so pleasing to his ears. He couldn’t help but close his eyes, lean into her touch.
Her other hand trailed down his chest, his abdomen, finally reaching the waistband of the only thing keeping all of him from her.
“Let me take care of you,” she murmured, her lips ghosting over his ear. Her hand traveled further yet, getting ahold of him, cupping him, squeezing him, feeling the size and weight of him.
He sucked a breath in through his teeth, muscles taut. A strangled moan escaped from his lips, closing his eyes and rolling his head back. He dug his fingers into her hips, only vaguely aware of the frustrating barrier of her swimsuit. “(Y/N)...” Her touch, her ministrations, it was all so intense. “You’re driving me insane,” he growled.
A low chuckle emanated from her. “Say my name like that again, let me hear it.”
He obliged, her name falling from his lips like a reverent prayer, drawing out each syllable like a sinful plea.
Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Whether it was from his voice or the fact that he was tugging her bottoms off, he had no idea. But the sounds she let out were mouthwatering. He watched as she shuddered and moaned beneath his touch, letting out grunts and curses of his own. “Gods,” he rasped, his voice thick. “You sound so beautiful when you moan for me.”
She squeezed him sinfully at that bit of praise, moaning his name quietly.
“Please touch me, (Y/N)... It hurts…”
In that moment she caved, both of them lifting up a bit to allow the other to rid them of their last bits of clothing. She tugged him a few times, grip tight and movements long. He rocked into her hand, a string of curses falling from his lips. Normally he wouldn’t unravel so quickly, but with every sensation magnified, he’d be surprised if he lasted another minute.
“Sweetheart, you have to… Gods, please don’t stop,” he managed to gasp out, his hips rocking eagerly, his face scrunched in concentration.
She met his gaze, her eyes darkening with desire. Nodding slightly, her breath coming out in puffs, she continued, increasing her pace while he maintained his movements into her hand. Lucien’s breath caught, his muscles tensed as waves of pleasure washed over him. He clung to her desperately, burying his face into the crook of her neck to muffle his increasingly vocal responses. His release coated her hand, but quickly washed away into the water as she continued stroking him through it. She murmured soft encouragements all the while.
She felt his weight slumped against her, heard his breathing slow, found herself wondering if it had passed. She held him close, running a soothing hand along his back, through the hair and the nape of his neck.
When he finally lifted his head, she was ready to greet him with a warm smile, but where she expected either newfound calm or lingering distress, she found neither. On the contrary, it almost seemed as if their actions amplified his hunger.
Lucien wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace and found himself rutting his hips up, thoughtlessly trying to find her entrance. She gained purchase on a stone behind him, her chest hovering over his face. With a groan, he released one of his arms from around her, using the hand to guide himself. But when his fingers brushed against her and she let out the softest, most helpless whimper he’d heard in his life, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to hear more from her. He replaced the head of his cock with his fingers, shakily grazing over her folds.
Her repeated mantra of “oh’s” and “yes’s” goaded him on, and as he dipped his fingers further through them, he slowly thrusted the still-hard length of himself along her cunt. The caress of both on her sensitive skin getting to be too much. “Lucien, why don’t you just—” What bordered on a wail interrupted her words when he let his tip brush against her clit, the first meaningful relief of pressure she’d gotten there all this time.
“Wanna feel you, wanna make sure you’re alright,” she could hardly recognize his voice, it sounded pained, his words slurred. “Don’t want… to hurt you.” When he went to slip his fingers into her, she pulled them away, moving to seat herself on him.
“Don’t worry about me,” she assured him she was alright. “I’m helping you, just worry about yourself, okay?” But he shook his head, insisting that he wanted her to feel just as good as he did. “I will. I am.” With that, she lowered herself slowly, taking him inch by inch. Their faces were a mirror of shared ecstasy, expressions soft with contentment. They were entwined — she cradled in his embrace, he sheathed within her warmth.
Lucien's world had narrowed to this single point in time and space. Any remaining semblance of coherent thought dissolved entirely. The feel of her skin, the sound of her breath, the scent of her hair — these were the only realities that existed for him now. Nothing else mattered — not the court, not his duties, not even his own name. There was only her, only this.
A low growl rumbled in his chest as he tightened his hold, desperate to remove any open space from between them. His thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm, leaving only base instinct and overwhelming need.
“(Y/N),” he huffed, voice rough with emotion. “I can’t… I need…”
Words failed him, but his body spoke volumes. Trembling muscles, racing pulse, sharp breaths. He was a male consumed. Lucien heard her voice distantly.
“It’s okay… Take what you need, Lucien.”
As she pulled herself up, something primal awakened in him. Lucien drove his hips up into her and moved with fervent intensity, his actions far beyond conscious control. Every fiber of his being sang with pleasure, drowning out all else. Nothing beyond this moment.
He was dimly aware of sounds escaping him — groans, gasps, fragmented words of reverence. There was only feeling, only her, only them.
The spring water surged around them, disturbed by the frenzied movements of their bodies. Each trust was relentless, powerful, driven by an urgent need. Lucien’s hands guided her by the hips with a force that left no room for gentleness.
He groaned her name, told her he needed more of her. He didn’t know how it would be possible, in this moment she was his everything.
Her responses were lost in a series of breathless moans and gasps, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she tried to match his relentless rhythm. “Lucien… don’t stop… please…”
The words spurred him on, his pace now frantic. His eyes bore into hers. Every thrust, every movement, was a raw expression of his need, amplified by the pollen’s effects coursing through his veins.
Her nails raked down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. She clung to him, feeling the intensity of his desire in each powerful motion. The friction and pressure were overwhelming, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her body responded to his instinctually, her moans and cries echoing through the trees around them.
“So… damn good… So tight,” he groaned into her.
She gasped, her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as she rode him, rode the pleasure coursing through her. “Lucien… oh gods… you’re so deep, I can’t,” she buried her face into the crook of his neck. All she saw was the tanned color of his skin, the golden red of his hair, and smelled the earthy scent of cedar and fresh rain, mingling with the faintest hint of smoke and spice.
He shook his head. “Don’t hold back… Let me hear you. Tell me—fuck—tell me how good it feels.”
Her voice came out in broken gasps, each word punctuated by a moan. “It’s… so good… you’re so good... I can't... I need…”
Lucien's lips found her neck, his teeth grazing her skin before he sucked hard, leaving a mark. "Need what, darling? I want to hear you say it."
"Need you... need you to make me come," she confessed, her voice trembling with need. "Please, Lucien... I’m so close."
He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against her skin. "Anything for you, love." His mouth trailed down to her chest, his lips closing around one of her nipples. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. "Lucien... yes, just like that... don't stop..."
His free hand snaked between their bodies, fingers seeking out her clit. He rubbed in firm, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The combined sensations of his mouth on her nipple, his fingers on her clit, and the relentless drive of his hips were too much.
Her body tensed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she teetered on the edge of release. Lucien bit down gently on her nipple, the sudden spike of pain mingling with the overwhelming pleasure, pushing her over the edge. She shattered around him, her orgasm ripping through her with an intensity that left her breathless and trembling.
Lucien didn’t slow, riding out her climax, his own release following swiftly. With a final, powerful thrust, he let out a primal roar, spilling into her with a force that made stars dance behind his eyelids.
For a moment, they were locked together, their breaths harsh and mingled, hearts racing in unison. Slowly, as the intensity of their climaxes began to fade, they slumped into the water, still entwined, the spring's cool embrace a stark contrast to the heat of their encounter.
Lucien pressed his forehead against hers, his breath still coming in ragged gasps. "Are you... alright?" he managed to ask, his voice hoarse with lingering desire and concern.
She nodded weakly, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "More than alright," she replied, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "That was... incredible."
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through both of them.
She lifted her head slightly, looking into his eyes. "How are you feeling now?"
Lucien took a deep breath, still holding her close. "I still feel it," he admitted, his voice softer now, more controlled. "But it's much more manageable.”
A small smile tugged at her lips. "I'm glad," she murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "I was worried for a moment there."
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his eyes softening. "You were amazing," he whispered.
They lingered in the water for a few more moments, their breaths slowly returning to normal. But the connection between them, the raw need, was still there, simmering beneath the surface.
And then Lucien moved again, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. "But I think," he said, his voice taking on that rough, hungry edge once more, "that we have a bit more to take care of."
She shivered in anticipation, her own desire flaring up once again. "What do you have in mind?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.
His answer was a low growl as he shifted their positions, lifting her up and guiding her onto a nearby rock. He took her again there, their bodies moving together with a renewed intensity. Then, he turned her around, bending her over it, her cries echoing through the spring as he thrust into her from behind.
They moved to the water's edge next, Lucien pulling her onto his lap as he sat on a submerged boulder. She rode him hard, the water splashing around them as their movements grew more frantic.
Later, he laid her down on a bed of soft moss, hovering over her as he entered her again. The rhythm of his thrusts was relentless, each one pushing them both closer to the edge once more.
And when they finally left the spring, sated but still hungry for each other, Lucien carried her back to his chambers. He laid her on his bed, driven by a deeper need, something more enduring. There, in the privacy of his room, he took her yet again, their bodies entwined in a dance of passion and connection, free from any enchantments, driven only by their desire for each other.
1. Lucien’s favorite alcoholic drink is whiskey. He likes old-fashioned, Summer-style whiskey lemonade, whiskey sours, Autumn-style hot toddy with cinnamon and honey, in his coffee, etc
2. He has insomnia and struggles to fall asleep. Probably gets 4-5 hours a sleep on a good day.
3. Is a big morning person: will call 8 am “sleeping in”. (Day Court heir rises with the sun!)
4. He is very fashionable (of course, we all know this) but he loves wearing mismatched socks. He has the biggest assortment of socks ever, including the fancy dress socks, hiking socks, fuzzy sleeping socks, and socks so old he sews patches in them
5. Knows how to sew and is pretty good at it. LoA taught him embroidery and he’ll embroider random leaves on his clothes when he’s bored.
6. Collects trinkets and always has a random assortment of things in his pocket: a cool stone he found; a key he stole from his brother and refuses to give it back after 200 years; a gem that popped off his knife handle; a rabbit’s foot, etc. He’s a lil crow for sure
7. Loves sleeping in hammocks. One of his go-tos when he goes camping by himself
8. Can juggle. Yes, I know, but picture him shirtless with his hair draping over his bare chest, his muscled arms moving elegantly as he juggles 5 flaming balls of fire 7 feet above his head…
9. Could not sit still as a kid. He was always running around and fiddling with stuff, kicking his feet when he sits, etc
10. Has his ears pierced (tbh I headcanon that most fae have their ears pierced. Fancy, excessive is a High Fae fashion)
11. Loves interior design. Constantly argues with Vassa about how to decorate the manor they occupy in the human lands; he HATES her taste
11.5. Modern headcanon: Lucien loves thrifting and always looks for vintage furniture, wall decor, etc at second-hand stops and estate sales.
12. Never liked hunting as a kid (family hunts were always torture for him) but he grew to appreciate it as a survival skill, as well as a way to enjoy and respect nature.
13. Was raised to worship the Mother, but disliked how his father’s court used it to oppress people. Lady of Autumn is religious and taught him the kind and true side of religion. The Mother and the Cauldron became a way for him to connect with his mother, especially after he ran from Autumn and couldn’t see her.
14. His love language is gifts (obviously) but also physical touch. He loves giving massages and can warm up his hands with fire magic to give heated massages for cold feet, hands, etc. He is clingy and loves to hold hands and cuddle.
The Library @amethyst-reblogs - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
