A reimagining of chapter 27 of "A Court of Thorns and Roses" by Sarah J. Maas
this fan fiction contains mature content [ smut ] & is therefore not suitable for young readers !
I bolted upstairs, fleeing from what had previously happened in the dining room. Not feeling ready to press Lucien or Tamlin about any of the knowledge Rhysand had shared. I shuddered as I felt a phantom claw scrape against my mind. Heart jumping to a race as my knees buck beneath my weight. It takes every ounce of will to close my eyes; forcing myself to focus on my breathing as I frantically chant: it is not real. Rhysand is gone. I am safe.
Once my panic has passed I head toward my bed. I donât bother changing clothes before creeping under the covers; pulling them all the way up over my head. Sleep. I need sleep. Every muscle and bone yearning for it. The warm covers offer me comfort, their softness coaxing me to close my eyes and let sleep pull me under.
I can sense Tamlin before hearing the door creak open. I pull the covers down, peeking up from beneath them. Finding myself in a sort of sleepy daze. I blink a few times, forcing myself to focus my gaze ahead of me. Tamlin stands in the doorway, his power oozing off him in waves.
"Is it true?" My brows furrow in response. "Is what true?" I counter. "What Rhysand said", his voice steady, gaze fixed solely on me. I am unable to suppress a snort "You seem to forget I have no knowledge of the faerie politics at play within Prythian".
"Not that part". His lips press into a straight line. I fail to realise that he carefully watches each of my reactions. A moment of silence follows. Tension building between us as I rack my brain. What does he mean by ânot that parâ A shiver shoots down my spine, heat creeps up my neck and face. Rhysandâs taunting words ring loudly inside my head: "She has the most delicious thoughts about you, Tamlin". "She's wondered about the feeling of your fingers on her thighsâbetween them, too". I divert my gaze, refusing to look at him.
"Is it true?" he snarls. His movements are swift, far too quick for me to react. My eyes widen. My breathing shallow and quick while I feel my heartbeat beneath my skin. His breath is on me, on my face, his fingers setting my skin aflame where heâs pinned my wrists to either side of my face. "I don't see how that has any relevance", I muster. Trying my very best to shield my feelings and reactions, although the larger part of me knows I am failing miserably. "It has all the relevance, Feyre". Gulping, I don't allow myself to question my next set of words. My lips part in speech. "It is true. I have had such thoughts about you".
A sense of boldness courses through me as I hold his gaze. The streaks of gold and amber reminiscent of flames; burning within the depths of green. My stare averts to his lips and the slight smirk which tugs the corner of his lip upward. "If only you knew how long I've been wanting to hear that, Feyre. To know you crave me, desire me, as much as I do you". Those words alone send a wave of anticipation through me. I hum in relief as his lips meet mine; glad I did not have to beg him to kiss me. His lips are soft: a stark contrast to his tongue as it ravages mine; greedily stroking against my own. Tongues crash and stroke against each other; participating in a passionate, wild, intoxicating dance.
His hands release my wrists, allowing my hands free rein to travel all across his chest; sloppily tugging at his tunic and shirt. His hands were far more skilled as he began to undress me. He tugged down my trousers alongside my undergarments. Fingers ripping my shirt in two before discarding the scraps. Hands moving delicately, teasingly, across my chest; cupping my aching breasts above the final piece of underwear. He removes it in one swift flick. And with that, he had left me me fully bare before him. His lips disconnect from mine, causing a whimper to fall from my kiss swollen lips. This was not enough; it was far too soon for him to pull away. I want more. I need more. His stare sweeps across my naked form. "If you'd allow it, I'd let my hands roam across every inch of you". My tongue semented in my mouth, a second whimper my only response as I look at him pleadingly. Please. Do it. Touch me everywhere. I want you everywhere.
He inches his face closer to mine, his lips ghosting over mine as a gentle whisper falls upon my ears: "as you wish, Feyre". Any heat or warmth left in my face travels down along my chest to my stomach. I squirm, thighs clenching together as I desperate seek a fraction of relief. His lips travel along my jaw, leaving a trail of wetness from the combination of kisses and licks places atop my skin. By now my fingers have found their way to his hair. Slender digits dancing and twirling through the softest of locks. I canât resist tugging at it. Needing him to know I never want him him to stop.
He continues his path down along the side my neck, his grip on my waist the only thing grounding me. Every fibre of my being seems to buzz with excitement, every cell singing as electricity shoots through me. My blood mingling with lust and pleasure as it rapidly courses through me. He makes his way down between the peak of my breasts, lifting his head slightly. His lips part, tongue running across his teeth. Taunting. He was taunting me. âDo you wish for me to continue?â Tone laced with playfulness.
I bring my hand to his wrist; fingers wrapping around it securely before I guide him down along my stomach. His gaze follows the movement intently, and for a flicker of moment his cheeks seem to flush pink. I rest his hand on the inside of my thigh. The flesh supple and delicate in this area. A purr falls from my lips while I address him âWerenât you going to grant me the pleasure of feeling your fingers here?â Leaving no room for a reply, I continue to guide his hand along the inside of my leg; leading it directly to the wetness that now resides between either leg. âOr here?â I add, voice breathy. Warmth and slickness greeting his fingers, earning me a snarl. I whimper in delight, happy with his response. The playful glimmer in his eyes become replaced by brightly burning flames. Lust and desire consuming him from within.
Our lips connect once more, his tongue slipping past my lips and into my mouth. Already Iâm reaching the point of breaking. My attention drawn to two places at once; his tongue as it twirls with mine and the slow, teasing moves of his strong digits. The latter moving in gentle swirls across my sensitive bead. Another whimper spills from my lips. Heâs rendered me a stuttering mess; I struggle to voice my desires. âP-please, doâdonât hold, backâ.
âI could never deprive you of such requestsâ, he growls and I greedily swallow the low rumble of his voice. I jolt as I feel his mouth where I want it most. Lips exactly where I need them. The heat in my stomach grows. I can feel my heartbeat in the same area as Tamlinâs soft lips and tongueâthat god damn tongue. It swirls and flickers across my clitoris in ways I could never predict or anticipate. The rhythm fully clouding my judgment as I pleasure bleeds through every inch of me. I bring my thighs up to his head, wrapping them around his neck, fingers burrowing into his scalp as I tug at his hair frantically.
My back arches, shivers lapping across my skin as his fingers thrust into me. I squirm at the sensation, clenching around his fingers. My moans and whimpers earn me a pleased snarl from Tamlin. The heat and pounding between my legs become near impossible to endure. My whole being shudders as I feel the build up; stomach tying into knots upon knots. My vessel and mind diminished to nothing else than the embodiment of pure, raging lust. Like the calm before a storm, I had no way of telling when it would hit me. And so, desires tall waves come crashing down on. Waves beating down quickly, furiously. In turn pulling me down beneath the surface; making me drown in a sea of pleasure.
I canât tell how long it takes me to return to the present moment. To the soft bed that lay beneath me or the lazy grin plaster across Tamlinâs face. Tongue darting out between his lips as he laps at his fingers. âYou taste delicious.â Heat resurface in my cheeks, my words meek as I struggle to withhold his stare. âI want to pleasure you, too.â âOh Feyre, if only you knew the amount of pleasure youâve already granted me.â
Yet he doesnât refuse my offer as he reaches for me. Strong hands finding my hips, the tips of his fingers pressing into my skin; I secretly hope they leave a mark. I am pulled onto his lap. âYou must promise me that we talk later. . . thereâs matters of business we need to discuss.â His voice stern as he tries to shield the lust flickering behind his eyes. I press my index finger to his lips. âLater. I promise we will talk about it later. But for now, I only want to think of you, know of you, drown in youâ. He nips at my finger. I scowl him which earns me a chuckle before his lips capture mine. I grab onto his clothed chest, giddy butterflies fluttering inside my stomach as I realise: this will indeed be a long night.
