An Eventful Calanmai for @tamlinweek’s nsfw prompt…a day late
Remember when I was doing illustrations for my old Tamsand calanmai fic? If u don’t that’s ok cause I literally haven’t made art for it in like a year. I actually made this one, and one in the same style for Rhys, when I was originally making these pieces, but I had hated the way tamlin came out so I tabled it for like a year. And now he looks so much better! I didn’t really wanna re-do Rhys though cause this ain’t about him, so here’s his piece from last year:
And for the hell of it, below the cut is the original tamlin I did (just so I can try to convince myself Ive improved loll) along with my tag list. Let me know if you want on or off!
I love me a buff tamlin but he was far too buff here regarding the context of my fic. Bro is still recovering from malnourishment he’s not THAT thick yet.
Summary: After spending Calanmai together, you and Lucien discover that you two may be spending more than one night together.
A/N: Mentions of intimacy (18+). Also, the themes from Wicked: For Good’s As Long As Your Mine played great inspiration to the creation of this story. Therefore, for anyone who is a fan of ACOTAR and Wicked, this fic is for you.
Keep in mind that this fic takes place in a time where Feyre and her sisters never make their way to Velaris (or Prythian as a whole). As a result, Lucien’s true origins aren’t known or discussed by others.
The first thing you noticed when you woke up this morning was the fact that you were not in your room.
As a matter of fact, the room before you incorporated themes of oranges, reds, and gold into the greens, browns, and ivory of the Spring Court. Specifically, of your High Lord’s estate.
Looking down at some weight that you started noticing against your stomach, you noticed that what was against you was a hand. A sun-kissed hand with scratches. Scratches that looked very similar to the ones that Lu…
“Lucien,” you accidentally said aloud.
You stayed still. Hoping that you haven’t awoken the Spring Court’s Emissary. After hearing his gentle breathing not breaking, you relax.
Giving yourself a few more seconds just to be sure that Lucien won’t be awoken by you, you turn to your other side to face your bedmate from last night.
The male before you was shirtless, maybe even naked still from the previous night, with his fiery red hair splayed out onto his pillow despite sleeping on his side.
Taking the opportunity to take in Lucien’s current form, you take note of how relaxed he looks. So, at ease from his usual charismatic and somewhat sarcastic demeanor that he presents to everyone else. Mainly court officials as he’s always been super polite with staff members at the manor including yourself.
Still, you never would have thought that the polite interactions that occurred between the two of you would lead to you being Cauldron-blessed by allowing you the opportunity to share his bed with him for Calanmai.
The night prior…
Lucien has you in his arms as he attempts to open the door to his chambers.
“Shit, shit, shit,” the fiery headed male repeats, causing you to giggle.
“Hardy, har, har,” Lucien says sarcastically. “Laugh at my misfortune of not being able to open and close the door properly with you in my arms.”
You frown at him. “Are you saying I weigh a lot? If not, you can put me down and--”
Before you can jump out of his arms, Lucien is finally able to open the door.
Once he walks over the threshold of his room, Lucien walks you over to his bed and gently sets you down before heading to the door once again to lock the door.
As you wait for Lucien to come back, you couldn’t help but take notice of his muscular backside as well as admiring the way his ass looks in his trousers.
Must be from all that training he does in the courtyard, you think as your mind wanders to those afternoons where he trains shirtless and you simply just happen to be walking as you take your usual afternoon tea.
Before your mind can wander further, the little rational voice inside you reprimands yourself for looking at the male before you, The Spring Court Emissary for that matter, in such a way.
This is probably a form of treason, you think to yourself. If anyone finds out, who knows what the High Lord will do to me for associating myself with his Emissary and friend.
You must have been in your head for quite a bit because the next thing you know, Lucien is at your side again and is making himself to your seated position on his bed by getting on his knees.
“Is everything alright, my lady?” Lucien asks, voice filled with concern. “Are you having second thoughts about our evening together? If you are, I completely understand and won’t be offended.”
Touched by his words of concern, you shake your head. Also, you are surprised by how he addressed you as if you were of equal status to him rather than a maid for the Spring Court.
“It’s not that, sir, I…” you struggle to voice your opinions.
He holds your hand in comfort. “There’s no need for formalities between us. Especially with what we are about to do. Please, call me Lucien and share what’s on your mind.”
Once again, moved by his words and actions, you tread carefully through the thoughts that are running through your mind. “I’m just worried that us being together in this way will lead to consequences. Particularly, for me.”
As you finish, you notice the neutral look he has on his face. Thinking you have ruined the mood for this evening, you are about to apologize and make attempts to leave when he gently stops you.
“Please, my lady,” he starts. “You are welcomed here with me unless you wish it otherwise. In which, I’ll respect your wishes. Just know, I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t want it. Nor would I put you in a position where your reputation would be at risk. You have my word on that.”
“… By the way, I detest your comments on your body. You are most certainly not heavy. Not for me. It’s just… I was a bit frustrated by the fact that my attempts at having you swoon for me were thwarted by my lack of not being able to open a door properly.”
You were shocked to hear Lucien’s voice about his concerns regarding his actions just a few minutes ago. In your opinion, you thought it was a bit cute how frustrating he was over something that wasn’t a big deal to him. As you were merely happy to simply be experiencing this moment with him. A male whom you’ve always admired from afar as well as secretly wish that he could be yours in all the ways that matter. Though, you suppose physically is better than not at all.
Involuntary, as if by instinct, you bring a hand to touch Lucien’s cheek. Nuzzling himself into your wrist, Lucien takes a deep inhale before he kisses your wrist and eventually kisses up and down your arm.
Already feeling overwhelmed by his ministrations, you attempt to hold in your moans by biting your lips. Afraid that the noises that may escape your lips will sound unladylike, leading to the moment between you two being ruined.
You must have been in your own thoughts for a while because now you have noticed the lack of lips against your wrist. You then open your eyes to see Lucien looking at you intently.
Ever so gently, Lucien takes your cheeks into his hands as a smile graces his face. “What’s the matter, sweet one? Is it already too much? Am I hurting you? I…”
You shake your head. “No. Everything you’re doing feels wonderful. I just figured you wouldn’t want to hear me make the most unladylike noises and turn you off.”
Lucien smirks. “Nonsense. Letting me be able to hear the evidence of the pleasure that I’m giving you is an honor. Especially if it were to come from you.”
As if his words were intended to make you blush, what he says and does next ruins you.
“Command me, my sweet (y/n),” he says, accentuating the moment with a kiss to your hand.
The rest of the night was spent with sweet kisses, caresses, and feelings you haven’t encountered. Though, the feeling you hadn’t expected to experience during your night with Lucien was a snap that had occurred within your body, mind, and soul.
Lucien is my mate, is the last thought you have as your eyes finally close for the night as Lucien’s face was nuzzled into your bare chest. Clinging to you as if you were his life line. The thing that mattered most to him. When in reality, this night would probably be the only thing you two shared despite the incessant tug you felt towards him now.
Coming back to your senses, your hand subconsciously makes its way towards Lucien’s cheek. Particularly, the one where he was scarred by Armantha (along with losing his eye).
Gently caressing him, you think about how much it must have hurt him to lose a vital part of himself. Sure it was only one eye that he was easily able to replace using an artificial mechanical eye made of gold, you couldn’t help but wonder about the pain he went through simply for speaking up for his High Lord and friend.
“It’s an awful sight, isn’t it?” A voice breaks through your thoughts.
_________________________________________
“Lucien!” The beauty in front of him replies to him in shock. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you… I…”
Lucien gently pressed a finger to (y/n)’s lips as he shifted himself sideways, putting a hand behind his head for support. “I see no issue with it. Especially since you and I are mates.”
The look on (y/n)’s morphs to confusion. “You know?”
Lucien nods. “Have for a while now actually.”
“Why…why didn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t my place,” Lucien starts. “Besides, wouldn’t it be cruel of me to sentence you to look upon my ugliness for the rest of your days?”
“I think being your mate involves myself having some say in it, does it not?” You asked him with genuine curiosity and confusion. “Unless…this is just your nice way of…”
“No,” Lucien says instantly. “Don’t you dare even think that when I’m at my most content in your presence.”
Your silence urged him to continue. “Every conversation we’ve had, though small, has been one of the best parts of my day. Hel, sometimes even my week or month. Yet every time I gather the courage to ask to court you, I take one look in the mirror and see my scars. Not just on my face but within myself… and I can’t bring myself to do that to you. Sentence you to a life with a scarred man. You deserve someone who’s not me…”
Not only is Lucien surprised by the tears that escaped his eyes by the time he finished his speech but the fact that your hand was already there wiping them away.
Of all the scenarios he had expected, this wasn’t what came to mind. While you weren’t cruel by any means, Lucien had figured that you would thank him for the night you shared and find an excuse to leave as he felt he was too much to deal with. That didn’t need his trauma onto your own life and—
“Lucien,” you cooed sweetly to him. “You’re beautiful.”
Lucien responds with a humorless laugh. “You don't have to lie.”
“I’m not lying,” you say intently. “It’s looking at things another way.”
While Lucien looks into your eyes to see if there’s any chance of you, you continue to speak to him.
“What I mean by the latter part of my statement is that what a person may see as embarrassing or shameful within themselves, someone else may see as the opposite.”
You continued, touching his scarred cheek.“These scars that you think make you ugly only show everyone that sees you that you are stronger than what tried to destroy you. If others can’t see past that, it’s their loss but my gain. That is… if you decide to accept me as your mate. I understand if you’ve changed your mind—”
Before you can finish, Lucien brings you in for a hug and presses a kiss atop your head. “I would gladly be your mate. Although, I have one condition.”
Your eyes look at him curiously. “What’s that?”
He smirks. “Let me court you properly.”
_________________________________________
Hearing those words leave Lucien’s mouth causes you to smile. “Court me properly? Even though we are mates?”
Lucien nods, tucking a strand of hand behind your ear. “Figured it would be good for us to spend time together to get to know each other better. That way you can decide if you really want to be with me or not.”
“I’d like that,” you replied, shifting closer to him (as if it were possible considering the little space between you two). “Though you should know that I want you just as much as you want me. Mind, body, and soul.”
Lucien then has you both sit up so that he can lounge back in his bed with you lying against his chest, enjoying the sunrise together. The same sunrise acts as the physical symbol to the beginning of what is to come in Lucien and your relationship.
The Spring Court actually has the most lesser fae; real fae. You know, the ones with colorful skin, tails, antlers, claws, vine like hair, or wings made of bark or petals. Not just “hot humans with pointy ears.”
Nudity is a normal thing there. Skin is just skin. some fae wear moonlight or nothing at all, unless ceremony demands a cloak of tradition
Forests and rivers everywhere. Poisonous flowers that sing. Trees that move when you're not looking. Glow-in-the-dark mushrooms lighting up mossy paths. Vines that curl like curious fingers.
There’s mischief in the air never cruel, just clever. Lose your boots to a fox. Find your hair braided with wildflowers by giggling sprites. Discover a raccoon carrying your necklace like a treasure.
wearing shoes is rare thing. The earth is warm and breathing, and the fae here walk barefoot to stay connected to their land.
No brothels here, because sex isn’t commodified it’s woven into their culture like music or magic. Passion and desire are honored, not hidden. This is the court of Calanmai, after all. 👀
To any person whom isn't spring citizent there are no paths in the land only suggestions. The same route never leads to the same place twice unless the land wants it to.
The forest is full of bargains. Want something? The right flower, rock, or creature will give it… for a price. You’ll probably forget you made a deal until it’s time to pay.
Laughter isn't always safe. Some fae laugh to lure, others to confuse. The clever ones just mimic yours to draw you deeper in.
summary: Lost on Calanmai, you find yourself all alone at the entrance to a cavern, and something is down there waiting for you.
word count: 1,480
author's note: Not me polling on least favorite characters and writing the least favorite character anyways... Im sorry I love Tam. Hes too sexy. Read it anyways bc you love me. Obligitory calanmai fic bc ive never written one before
{Tags: light biting and praise, slight dubcon, tamlin still a communication king, feral fucking, primal tamlin}
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Never partake of the wine. That was the one warning you had gotten.
The one warning you had somehow forgotten.
And it wasn’t your fault, really. It was confusing. Smoke that smelled of more than aged wood filled your lungs each full breath. Strange creatures danced circles around the full, blooming field, often coming far too close to your liking. They were hungry, but the feasts would not sate that kind of hunger. You knew that now.
And that knowing didn’t stop you. Still, you found yourself out in that writhing ring of bodies, giggling with delight. The pacing of the drums and the fiddles and the woodwinds grew faster and you were sucked in.
Everything was bright in the dim, and it was all so fast until it was slow. Until couples were slinking off into the bushes with dark eyes and darker smiles. As the dancing fell away, you stood there. It was… nearly empty. Quiet. It felt as if everyone had sensed some sort of signal to leave and you were the only one not privy to the movement.
Turning around, you knew why. Somehow you had migrated from the wildflowered clearing to the edge of some kind of… cavern. It was a soft, grassy knoll that opened into a night dark cavern. For some reason, the gut feeling inside you that reared up in fear after being deserted had gone away. It was replaced by the sickening sense of relief. Even more sickening, curiosity.
One foot forward, the grass tickling your bare heels as you moved without wanting to. A sudden flash sparked in the dark as the cavern lit from within. Torches glowed a deep amber, a midnight blue, a rosy pink. They lit the way so far back you couldn’t see. And you wanted to see.
Soon enough, you felt the rock beneath you, which was startlingly smooth. It felt like something had come before you, carefully removing all the pebbles that might have pricked your skin. Whatever beast lay here was strangely meticulous, perhaps even thoughtful.
Deeper you went, pausing only when you began to hear noises. They were low, moaning growls. They sounded almost pained. A few steps more and they stopped completely. Silence swallowed up every echo. You couldn’t hear your own steps, but you had no doubt that whatever lurked beyond could hear them perfectly.
A chilly gust of wind blew down the dark, dry tunnel, causing you to shiver.
“Cold?”
The voice spoke quietly, but it startled you anyways. Somehow, you hadn’t been expecting any kind of… rational communication.
“I have furs,” the voice spoke again. “If you would like them.”
It took you a moment to realize the creature expected an answer. Even when you caught on, you couldn’t give one. Your lips opened only to shut wordlessly.
Slowly, a subtle green glow pierced the darkness. It was a man, though he was more beastly than some of the fae you had seen in the woodland. Tall antlers coiled proudly above his head and long claws tipped with gold protruded from his hands.
Carefully, he extended one toward you. He held a thick bear hide, one that had been well leaned and kept. “Take it, please. I want you to be comfortable.”
You trusted him. It was instinctual. You reached out to take the hide.
As swift as a lion on the hunt, his free hand snatched up your wrist, drawing you deeper into the cave.
~~~
You did not even consider opening your eyes until he had stopped moving. It was unwise not to follow his twists and turns, but the dark and the heady, hypnotizing scent of him would have muddled any mental map you managed anyway. He set you down in a rather intricate room, carved from the inside like a temple. Shadowed figures leapt out from rock carvings of mother goddesses and bubbling cauldrons.
“I’m sorry, did I frighten you?”
The answer was obviously yes. He had snatched you up like a useless kitten and hauled you into this sepulchre for god knows what. Well… perhaps you were beginning to catch on.
He was naked, covered only by whorls of dark paint and strange twisting symbols. Once you saw it, thick and already hard between his legs, you could hardly look away.
“Are we-?”
“Yes,” he answered, not forcing you to voice the query aloud. “The rite demands I take a consort for the night. Is that alright with you?”
His eyes, sympathetic and soft, offered you a choice that was not either of yours to make. There was only one answer for you both. So you nodded.
He nodded in agreement. The bear hide that had been your lure was laid out in a nest of similar dark furs. With one easy sweep, he settled you into the pile, tucking you into a makeshift bed. It was warmer down here, luckily.
“Are you the lord of this place?” An unnecessary question, but if you should have to divulge your body to this stranger, it was the least he could offer in return.
“Yes, but please, call me Tamlin.”
“Tamlin…”
His eyes flashed brighter at the sound, just a glimpse of the power this rite would grant him.
“I cannot delay this much longer,” he whispered. Tamlin ducked down to your neck, nose prodding against your skin as he breathed deeply. “Mmm, may I?”
Without knowing what he planned, you nodded.
Sharp fangs grazed your skin, parting as his long tongue flickered out to lick a stripe up to your ear. “You taste good,” he muttered.
With one move his body covered yours completely. Any hesitation that may have lingered disappeared as his warmth surrounded you. On instinct, your hands came up to touch him, pressing gently against his pecs as he kissed and sucked down your throat and along your collarbones. The muscles beneath your fingertips were firm, rippling. He fit himself between your legs, and you let him have you.
“Does this feel good,” Tamlin asked, inching his way from shoulder to breast. He paused at your nipple, waiting for your approval.
At the tip of your chin, he licked the pebbled bud tentatively. A flush bloomed on your cheeks, the spark of pleasure igniting heat in your core. His lips quirked. The little smile he gave you turned wicked as he carefully pinched your other nipple between his fingers.
“Ah-”
“Now I know where to focus my attentions…” He nuzzled his face between the swells of your breasts, thrusting forward enough to rub his cock against your core.
He was harder now, and leaking. You could feel the slick fluid at his tip as his cock nestled into your belly. You moaned at the feeling.
Tamlin’s body tensed, his cock throbbing as he growled. “Louder,” he pleaded, voice suddenly rough with desire. “So pretty…”
His fingers found their way to your core. Slowly, painstakingly, he forced his claws to retract just to touch you. A gentle touch to your clit had you grabbing at him, pulling him close. “Mm- more.”
And now that he was certain you wanted him, that’s exactly what he gave you. His hands pushed your legs back bearing you completely to his whims. One large hand gripped your ankles while the other fisted his cock, guiding it to your body. He didn’t bother wasting time with any more coddling. He pushed deep inside you, taming the wildfire of magic that had boiled up inside.
A needy whine escaped you. You tried to lock your legs around him, to pull him closer, but his grip on your ankles held firm. He pushed your legs further back, opening your cunt up for a more aggressive thrust.
His pace changed with every gasp that fell from your lips. He was pounding into you now, chasing climax with a feral intensity. He angled his thrusts up against your fluttering walls, aiming for that sweet spot inside you.
He knew exactly when he had found it. You arched up with a cry, face buried into his chest. He drew back almost completely, only to fill you in one wicked push. Over and over he hammered you into that nest of warm, slightly sweaty furs, not stopping until you were gasping for air and tearing up with pleasure. Your climax ripped through you, and a groan tore from his throat. His teeth grazed your neck again, but this time, he bit down. His fangs held you in place as he sucked against your throat.
After purple bloomed over the flesh, he moved to a new space. Your breasts, your shoulders, your throat, he marked you with an insatiable primal urge. Each sting went away with the laving of his tongue over the bruises, some sort of subtle healing magic woven within him, renewed by the rite.
