could you do cassian with a shy mate who doesn't know how to react to causal intimacy??
sure. now, i sort of assumed with casual intimacy you mean like physical touch? sorry if i misinterpreted!
Cassian x shy!reader who is getting used to Cassian's touch [859 words]
CW: fem!reader, mates, Cassian's love language is physical touch, reader hates being perceived, rhys won't stop perceiving her, fluff
You try not to react outwardly when Cassian’s large hand lands on your knee, but you doubt that you do a very good job.
The touch itself isn’t particularly scandalous; his palm doesn’t stray anywhere impolite, yet it feels like a branding iron all the same.
Cassian is simply a touchy guy. His job is physical in itself, requiring him to help warriors get into proper positions, sparring, stretching, the whole shebang. And if that wasn’t bad enough, you’ve seen the way he is with his family.
The male constantly has an arm thrown around whoever finds themselves within grabbing reach. Flipping a lock of Mor’s hair up into her face, clapping Azriel on the shoulder, hip-checking Feyre out of his way, brushing his shoulder up against Rhysand’s like the two of them are conspiring (they probably are).
So of course, it should come as no surprise that Cassian is equally as tactile with his mate.
Yet, it manages to surprise you every time.
It’s likely due to a combination of factors. Your family was never overly affectionate in this way; hugs and kisses fizzled out rather quickly in your youth and now, hugs are merely reserved for hellos and goodbyes.
It’s also probably in part that you’re a horribly shy creature and don’t wish to be perceived in any capacity, and Cassian’s hand landing on your knee only goes to alert you to the fact that you are, indeed, a perceivable being.
If it’s at all possible, you shrink even further into yourself, hoping to eventually blend into the cushion of the loveseat that you’re currently occupying. You’re silently chanting don’t look, don’t look, don’t look as you scan the room to see who might be looking in your direction.
Cassian must hate you, though, because he lets out a sharp bark of laughter that has the majority of the room turning to look at him; sitting so close to him, you’re thus perceived by association.
He launches into some story that apparently requires both hands to accurately recall it, lifting his palm from where it was warming your knee and leaving it cold in his wake.
Great, now you miss his touch. You – ever so slowly – shift in your seat, crossing one leg over the other in a poor attempt to recreate some of Cassian’s warmth.
You fail, and you look up to find that Rhysand has witnessed your hopeless aim at self-soothing, the male sending you a comforting wink that brings you no comfort at all and sees you subconsciously shifting further into Cassian’s side, wondering if he might not extend his wing for you to hide behind.
Cassian must’ve felt you thinking about him, or maybe he really does just hate you, because he chooses that moment to turn in his seat in order to look at you. It requires him to shift his entire body since you’ve all but melted into the cushions behind him.
“You doin’ okay, gorgeous?”
You hum in the affirmative but the sound is all wrong; pitchy, high, and a little bit wobbly.
“What’re you doing back there, hm?”
Busted.
“Hiding,” you admit, knowing better than to lie to him (again).
This time it’s Cassian who hums the affirmative, turning even further in his seat until his knees brush yours and you are granted the entirety of his attention. “Rhys said you look like you’re trying to figure out how to winnow.”
You turn to look at the offending male who has the audacity to wink at you.
Squealer.
Rhysand throws his head back in laughter; you might have thought that particular thought a little too loudly.
“Awe, don’t be mad at him, sweetheart,” Cassian chuckles, calloused fingers tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before hooking underneath your chin and tilting your face up towards him. “He can’t help but notice the most beautiful fae in the room.”
“Cassian,” you hiss, face heating at his blatant flattery and you’d like for his hand to move away from your cheeks lest he realize what effect he’s having on you. “His mate’s sitting right there.”
“I said what I said.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” You whisper, closing your eyes in resignation though you can’t help the smile that dances at the corners of your lips.
“Doing what?” Cassian replies with a laugh that fans across your face. “What am I doing to you, huh?”
“Torturing me.”
“I’m loving you,” he counters proudly. “You’ve got a problem with that, sweetheart?”
“Maybe I do.”
Cassian lets out a huff of acknowledgement. “Yeah? Well, tough.”
He punctuates the sentiment with a gentle kiss to your lips before he finally lets go of your jaw, but he takes a moment to bump his nose against yours before pulling away as a silent apology for any discomfort. You both know if you truly had an issue, though, that he’d back off.
His hand doesn’t stray far, however, returning to your knee as he jumps back into the conversation happening around him, this time the touch is paired with the occasional squeeze or a stroke of his thumb along your inner knee.
Summary: You and Cassian are officially mated. You both know what happens now: the mating frenzy.
Warnings: smut, language, p in v, creampie, unprotected sex but mention of contraceptive, fingering, oral (f receiving), cockwarming while both asleep (does it count as somnophilia? Idk), mention of spanking
Word count: 8.2k
A/N: took me way too long to post this one, sorry about that. But I think it's funny my second longest fic it's basically just smut lol
Part 1 (but it can totally be read on its own)
Main masterlist | Cassian masterlist | AO3
You hadn’t really known what to expect when the bond was accepted. Everyone always talked about the mating frenzy, but no one ever explained how it began. Would the need and desire surge the moment you offered your mate food? Would it take a few minutes? Or would it build slowly, like a wave gathering until it became a tsunami? Maybe it differed from couple to couple, maybe that was why no one ever talked about it.
So you and Cassian had celebrated your mating ceremony without you offering him food. You danced and dined and laughed, spending the afternoon with your friends and family. But the celebration felt more like a prelude for what was coming than a commemoration of what had already happened.
Because even though Cassian had eaten, it wasn't food you had offered. Not yet.
You waited until the sun began to sink behind the horizon, painting the sky in warm shades of orange and pink. You said your goodbyes, wishing everyone goodnight, not knowing when you'd see them again.
Would the mating frenzy last a couple of weeks? A month? Longer? You had once heard of a couple who disappeared for four months. It was one more thing you couldn't predict.
Cassian had scooped you up into his arms, spread his wings and soared into the twilight-kissed sky.
While you had organized most of the ceremony, he had been busy finding the perfect place for you to stay for however long the frenzy lasted. A place just for the two of you, far from other houses and any kind of interruptions.
“So they won't hear us,” he'd said with a smug grin. “I bet we'll be even louder than usual.”
But he had kept the location a surprise, so you had no idea where he was taking you until he landed in front of a small cabin and gently set you down.
You gripped his arm to steady yourself as your feet touched the ground, your eyes already darting around to take in your surroundings.
You were in the woods outside Velaris, closer to the mountains than the sea, in a peaceful spot where only a distant owl and the whisper of the wind could be heard. Ivy crept along the cabin’s wall, curling across rough stone and weathered wood alike, and you brushed your fingers along the dark green leaves as Cassian unlocked the front door and held it open for you.
When you stepped inside, the faelights flickered to life, and your eyes widened in surprise. The place was small, as you had expected, but it had everything you could need and it was beautifully furnished. The main room combined the kitchen and the living area, and through the open doors you could glimpse the bathroom and bedroom. Everything looked cozy and warm, exactly what you would picture when stepping into a cabin in the woods.
“Cass, this is wonderful,” you marveled, walking into the bedroom to survey the space. The bed was large enough to fit his wings, and it looked so comfortable and inviting, which was more than perfect, since you planned on spending most of your time there.
Cassian came up behind you, a hand settling on your waist. “You like it?”
“Like it?” you repeated, turning your head enough to look at him. “I love it!”
He smiled. “Good. Because it’s yours.”
You tilted your head, frowning. “Mine?”
“Yes, yours.”
Before you could ask for an explanation, he took your hand and led you back to the living area. He stopped in front of the oak dining table in the corner, standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders, guiding your gaze over the place.
“I didn’t rent the cabin, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear. “I bought it. As a mating present for you.”
“Cass…” you began, your heart swelling. “We agreed we wouldn’t buy each other anything.”
When you tried to turn to face him, his grip tightened on your shoulders. His breath warmed your neck before he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder.
“Then consider it a gift for both of us.” You could hear the smile in his voice, feel it against your skin. “A place for us to escape to whenever we want to be alone.”
Leaning back against him, you blinked away the tears stinging at the corner of your eyes.
A cabin. He had gotten you a cabin, even though you’d agreed not to exchange gifts, that the presents from your friends and family and the promise of eternity together were enough. Yet he had bought you a whole house so you could retreat from the chaos of your lives whenever you wished.
“I… I don't know what to say,” you murmured, eyes darting around the room, still trying to process the news. It was yours—the maple and oak furniture, the shelves waiting to be filled, the orange pillows on the couch. They were all yours.
Cassian's hands slid from your shoulders to your waist, his arms wrapping around you to pull you against his chest. “You don't have to say anything.”
“I need to thank you properly,” you said. “And I need to offer you food.”
He hummed against your ear, the sound reverberating deep in your bones. “And once you do, we're going to inaugurate this place by fucking on every surface,” he murmured. “I'll take you on the couch. And the armchair.” He gently turned you toward the kitchen. “That table too.”
Each whispered word sent a shiver down your spine, setting your body aflame.
“In the bathtub while we wash up.” His lips brushed your neck, his hands gliding up your chest, stopping just beneath your breasts. “On the bed, of course. Over and over again.” His mouth found the soft spot below your ear. “Against the wall, too, if you want.”
You shivered against him. This time, when you tried to turn in his arms, he let you. Your eyes met, and you offered him an amused smile.
“You know,” you said softly, fingers grazing his jaw, “I was planning to cook you something nice. But if you keep talking like that, I might not have the patience.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “That’s alright.” He kissed your fingertips when they brushed his lips. “I might have eaten a bit too much at the ceremony. If I eat any more, I’ll probably be too drowsy to do anything. Including fucking you.”
You stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. “So you gift me a cabin and I don’t even get to cook you a good meal to accept the bond? Got it.”
The truth was, you understood. You just liked to tease him, but you understood. You’d eaten plenty yourself, and if not for the excitement thrumming through your veins, you probably would have collapsed on the bed already, ready to sleep late into the morning.
Stepping out of his embrace, you turned to the cabinets. “Is there food in here?”
You were moving before Cassian could answer, but he still said, “Yes. And the place is enchanted so the food never goes bad.”
“Fancy,” you murmured as you opened a cabinet. It was stacked with all your favorite snacks. Your lips curved into a smile.
He really had thought of everything.
After carefully selecting one of the cookie jars—apparently the best you could do right now—you pulled out a chocolate chip cookie and walked back to Cassian, who was watching you with a broad smile.
“For you, my love,” you announced, offering it as though it were something sacred.
Cassian mockingly bowed his head as he accepted it. “Thank you, my love.”
He lifted the cookie to his lips, never breaking eye contact as he took a small bite. You arched a brow, and he huffed half a laugh before shoving the rest into his mouth.
For a moment, you just stood there, holding your breath as you stared at each other. But nothing happened. Nothing changed.
Then Cassian swallowed.
You both felt it instantly, eyes widening as the mating bond snapped into place like a lock finally clicking shut. The desire followed a heartbeat later, crashing through you like a tidal wave. You gasped and stumbled back a step, your body trembling as heat consumed you. Cassian’s nostrils flared, and you realized the scents of both your arousals had already filled the room. Just like that. In seconds.
You wanted—needed—to rip the clothes off him, to taste his skin, to feel him inside you. The need settled deep in your bones, making your knees weak and your core ache.
Cassian watched you, his hazel eyes darkened with the same desire you felt burning in your chest. Neither of you spoke as his hands went to the cufflinks of his suit jacket, shrugging it off with quick efficiency.
He always looked good, and you had thought he couldn't possibly look any better than he had in that suit. But now, standing before you in his black slacks and white shirt, he was devastatingly handsome. It took every ounce of control not to pounce on him.
His shirt was unbuttoned by the time he realized you weren't moving. You stood there, tense like a bowstring about to snap, your eyes fixed on his every movement, drinking in every inch of golden skin revealed with each button he undid.
His voice was rough when he spoke. “Are you okay?”
Your gaze dragged slowly from his chest to his face. “Yes,” you breathed. “I just can't take the dress off alone.” When he frowned, you explained, “The laces are fastened on the back.”
“How did you put it on?”
“Mor helped me.”
Cassian nodded once, then stepped closer. You swallowed, anticipation and desire swelling inside you, fingertips itching to touch him. But he simply moved behind you and reached for the first lace of your dress.
You were acutely aware of how close he was. He didn't touch you—he was careful not to brush the bare skin of your back, only pinching the thin strings—but you could feel his breath against the nape of your neck, sense his presence behind you. His scent enveloped you, and you had never shown such restraint as you did now.
The dress fell in a shapeless heap on the floor, pooling around your feet. Cassian’s breath hitched. The sound alone made your thighs clench.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he whispered, trailing a finger down your spine. The touch was feather-light, barely there, but it was enough to make you tremble.
“It showed through the dress,” you murmured.
Unable to wait any longer, you turned to face him.
Your gaze dragged down his body, taking in the muscles rippling beneath his unbuttoned shirt, the straining bulge in his slacks. You lifted a hand and traced the line of a faint scar just above the waistband of his pants. He shivered but didn’t move.
When your eyes finally met, the fragile control you both had shattered like glass.
Your lips crashed together, and there was nothing sweet in the kiss. It was all hunger, desperation, raw need demanding release. Your fingers tangled in his hair and his hands gripped your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto the table behind you. You moaned softly when he stepped between your parted legs and his cock pressed against your clothed sex.
His mouth moved down to your neck, but even as you tilted your head, you couldn’t wait anymore. You fumbled with his belt, letting out an excited squeal when you managed to unbuckle it and unbutton his slacks.
Your hand slipped inside, but Cassian tore his mouth from your throat with a low growl. “Now isn’t the time for teasing,” he rasped. “Save that for later.”
You were not going to protest.
His pants were around his ankles in seconds, your panties dragged down your legs and dropped on the floor beside your dress. You spread your thighs, baring your slick cunt to his hungry gaze. His eyes fixed on you, just as yours locked onto his hard cock. Your mouth watered at the sight, and your core clenched around nothing as you stared at the bead of fluid at his tip.
“Cass—”
“I need to fuck you.” He grabbed your hips, pulling you to the edge of the table. “Right now.”
He didn’t wait. He nudged your entrance, then sheathed himself inside you with a single thrust. You both moaned at the delicious, familiar stretch, and you braced yourself against the table. But Cassian didn’t move.
“Cassian,” you snarled. You needed him to move, now more than ever. Your very bones ached for it. “Now isn’t the time for teasing.”
His eyes met yours, pupils blown wide, the hazel nearly swallowed whole. Did you look the same? Hungry, desperate, barely in control? You felt like it.
“I’m not teasing,” he ground out. He was trembling with the effort of holding still. “Just… I don’t know how long I can last.”
Normally, you’d laugh. Reassure him. Maybe crack a joke. But not now.
“You think I care?” Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you rolled your hips. His fingers dug into your waist. “Just fuck me.”
With a rumbling growl, Cassian obeyed. He pulled out almost all the way before he slammed back into you, making your eyes roll back as he set a brutal rhythm. Your mouths met again, and though the kiss muffled the moans and grunts, there was no disguising the creak of the table beneath you or the steady slap of bodies colliding.
Your legs hooked around his waist, hands sliding down to grip his ass, trying to pull him closer, deeper even though there was no space left between you. You were already pressed together, and pleasure built quickly, faster than ever. It coiled low in your belly, rising like a tidal wave until your body tensed in his arms.
His grunts grew louder. His fingers bruised your thighs. Cassian broke the kiss, trying to keep pace, but his hips faltered when you began to clench tight around him.
“Fuck…” he breathed. His eyes, darker than you’d ever seen, locked with yours.
That was all it took.
Cassian’s head tilted back,a guttural groan tearing from him as he came, grinding his hips against yours as he spilled deep inside you. You moaned low in your throat, trembling with release, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to satisfy the bond's demand to consume and be consumed.
“Well, that was…” Cassian let out a breathless chuckle. “Quick.”
“Don’t stop,” you panted, even though he was still slowly moving inside you, still hard. “I need more…”
He didn’t hesitate. He began thrusting again, and you bit your lip at the exquisite drag of his cock against your walls, your combined release making every motion slicker, deeper. You lifted a hand to run a finger down Cassian’s left wing, but he caught your wrist before you could touch him.
“If you so much as brush my wings, I’ll come again right now.” His hands slid up your arms to your shoulders and gently pushed down, hips never losing their rhythm. “Lie back, my love.”
You obeyed, leaning back against the table. As soon as your back hit the wood, Cassian’s hands clamped on your waist. He pulled almost all the way out, until only his tip was still inside you, then slammed back in one brutal thrust. You arched off the table with a strangled moan.
“Cass—” you choked out, but he didn’t give you the chance to finish.
He began pounding into you, hips snapping with purpose and determination. You could feel him deep inside, hitting that hidden, sensitive spot again and again. Your fingers grazed his shoulders, leaving small crescent-shaped indents as you pulled him down to you.
With a low groan, Cassian leaned in. But instead of capturing your lips like you expected, his mouth closed around your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple. You squirmed, burying your fingers in his dark locks to keep him there. He hummed against your skin, maybe even said something, but you were too lost in pleasure to hear.
His pace slowed while he lavished attention on your tits, switching from one nipple to the other, sucking them into his mouth and gently rolling each between his teeth. Your sighs and moans filled the cabin, and when you couldn’t take it anymore—when Cassian had drawn you to the edge of another climax yet refused to let you fall—you yanked on his hair, forcing him to lift his head.
“Stop teasing me,” you mumbled, half breathless, half annoyed. “I need more than this.”
Cassian smirked, slow and mischievous, like he knew exactly how desperate you were and relished every second of it. But you could see it in his eyes—the strain of resisting the frenzy that urged him to take, take, take.
“As you wish,” he murmured. The restraint in his voice was clear, but you didn’t push him. You didn’t move. You let him move you instead.
His hands gripped the backs of your knees, folding your legs up and spreading them wide. Your gaze dropped from his face to the spot where your bodies were joined, where he began driving into you again, relentless now, and all you could do was watch and squirm and moan.
Cassian was panting, his wings flaring slightly as he loomed over you. His muscles shifted with every thrust, and you clenched around him at the sight of that beautiful, tattooed body. He was yours alone—yours to touch, yours to worship
“Is this what you wanted?” Cassian rumbled. His eyes flicked from where he disappeared inside you to your fluttering lashes and parted lips. “Or do you still need more, sweetheart?”
Your fingers scrambled for purchase, but found only the edge of the table. “No,” you breathed. “Just… don’t stop, please…”
“I’m not stopping,” he growled. You could hear the strain in his voice, see it in the hard set of his jaw. He was close, just like you. Teetering on the edge of a pleasure that spread from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes.
“C’mon,” Cassian urged, pushing your legs farther apart. You whined softly, heat pooling in your belly. “Come with me, sweetheart. I want us to come together.”
He released one of your legs, but you kept it raised, exactly where he’d put it, too overwhelmed to move. Especially not when his free hand slipped between your thighs and his thumb pressed down on your clit. Not circling, not caressing, just… there. A steady, perfect pressure that made you keen.
“Oh,” you panted. Your breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts as he drove into you harder, deeper, leaving you gasping for air. You were pretty sure the table shifted beneath you. “F-fuck, Cass, I’m—”
A loud moan tore from you, cutting off your words. Cassian had changed his angle, just slightly, but enough that every stroke struck that perfect spot. With his cock hitting it repeatedly and his thumb on your clit, the world vanished in a rush of white-hot ecstasy.
You arched off the table, eyes rolling back as Cassian rocked his hips a few more times before burying himself deep and spilling inside you. Warmth spread low in your belly when his release flooded you for the second time in minutes.
When the wave of pleasure receded and you looked up at him—both of you smiling, both of you gasping—you didn’t feel the languid satisfaction that usually came after good sex. Instead, you ached for more. And it wasn’t the greedy kind of craving born from something so good you wanted seconds. No, this was primal, bone-deep, the bond’s undying need to claim what was yours and be claimed in return.
Cassian studied your face. His hand rested on your lower stomach, as if he could feel his cock still buried inside you. But you knew he wasn’t referring to that when he asked, “You still feel it too, don’t you?”
Sitting up on the edge of the table, you only nodded. You had no words for it. The feeling went beyond that, rooted in every cell of your being. But you didn’t have to explain. Cassian already knew.
“It’ll probably take a while,” he said softly.
You didn’t know how he did it, how he could sound so gentle when all you could think of were the words again, fuck me, I need you, and every variation of the same primal plea.
“Most couples need around two weeks,” he went on. He didn’t pull out of you, just kicked off the pants still pooled around his ankles. Your eyes tracked every movement. “So we’d better get used to it for the next twenty days or so.”
He leaned down, and you thought he was about to fuck you again. But he only slid his arms around you and scooped you up as if you weighed nothing. His cock shifted inside you when you wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him, pressing every inch of your body against his. You both groaned, but his was rougher, breathier. Your toes might have brushed the delicate membrane of his wing. Accidentally, of course.
“You’re still hard,” you murmured, your face only a couple inches from his. Your nails trailed lightly down the back of his neck, a tender gesture at odds with the wildfire burning through your veins. But if Cassian, of all people, could keep control, then so could you.
“I am very well aware of that, sweetheart.” His low chuckle skittered down your spine. His hands cupping your ass didn’t help. Your cunt fluttered around him, unbidden, and he sucked in a breath as he began walking, still carrying you with ease. “Must be the frenzy.”
Your gaze swept over the room before returning to his face. “Are we going to fuck against the wall?”
Cassian raised his brows, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You want to fuck against the wall?”
You gave a little shrug. “You said we’d do it if I wanted.”
“And do it we will, then.” His playfully squeeze to your backside sealed the promise. “But that’s not what I had in mind right now.”
Before you could ask, he stepped into the bathroom. It was larger than you’d expected. White wooden cabinets lined one wall, marble counters gleaming beneath golden faucets, while the opposite side held a sunken bathtub. Not as big as the one at home, but still large enough for Cassian and his wings.
Your mouth nearly dropped as Cassian gently set you down on the counter. The marble was cold against your overheated skin, but your little gasp came from the sudden emptiness when your mate stepped back.
“I have a few questions,” you announced, holding up a hand. Counting on your fingers, you began, “One, how much did you spend on this cabin? Two, am I really supposed to believe you found a cabin lost in the woods with a tub big enough for an Illyrian?” His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement. “Three, why are we in the bathroom?” You lifted a fourth finger. “And four, why isn’t your dick inside me anymore, Mister General of the Army?”
Cassian failed miserably at stifling his laugh. “Well, aren’t you just getting feisty.”
You crossed your arms and arched a brow. His gaze dipped to your chest before he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright.” He raised a finger. “One, the cabin’s a gift, so I won’t tell you. But it’s not like we can’t afford it.”
Fair. True.
“Two,” he went on, “of course you’re not supposed to believe that. I had a few things adjusted after I bought it.” He moved to the sink, grabbed a towel, and ran it under warm water. His other hand stayed up, now showing three fingers. “Three, we’re here because I want to get you cleaned up.”
Returning to you, he held the towel in one hand and gently tapped your knee with the other. “Open,” he murmured.
Even with your arms still crossed, you obeyed, spreading your legs. Cassian dragged the towel over your thighs, wiping away your combined releases smeared across your skin. He was focused on the task, making sure not even a drop remained.
“And number four?”
He looked up at you, and that smirk you loved lit up his face. “Four, my love,” he answered, “is the same as three. I wanted to clean you up, and myself too. And I can’t be inside of you for that.” When he saw you about to protest, the smirk stretched into a grin. “Fine, you want a different answer. Alright.” He rinsed the towel quickly, then turned back to you. “It’s so I can come inside you again next time I fuck you. Can’t have you stuffed so full you can’t take more, right?”
Silence stretched while you considered his reasoning like it was life or death. But you had to admit, it was a solid point.
“Alright,” you said at last. “I can't argue with that logic.” You took the towel from his hand just as he was about to wipe himself down. “But I'll clean you.”
Cassian snatched it back in an instant. "Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “I'll do it.”
You gaped. “What? Why?”
He looked at you like the answer was obvious. When you just stared back, he started wiping himself down. “Because you’d tease me.”
“Since when is that a problem?” you pouted, leaning closer from your perch on the counter. “I thought you loved it when I teased you.”
“I do, sweetheart.” He tossed the towel into the sink, and his smirk returned. “But now it’s not your turn,” he murmured. Then he dropped to his knees.
Your legs spread on instinct before your mind even caught up.
Cassian stared up at you from the floor, wings fanned wide across the gray tiles. This great warrior, this Illyrian general, kneeling for you. His lips brushed one knee, then the other, and then traced a slow, reverent path up your thigh. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, sending tingles racing through every nerve.
“Am I forgiven?” His words were muffled against your flesh. Your breath caught when he nibbled your thigh.
“We shall see.” You smiled down at him, challenging him from above. “Depends on your performance.”
Your fingers threaded through his hair, and you weren't sure who moved first, whether you guided him to where you needed him or if he buried his face between your thighs on his own.
All you knew was that a heartbeat later, his mouth was on you. He licked a slow stripe from your entrance all the way up before circling your clit with his tongue.
Your thighs quivered, but Cassian hooked his arms under your legs, locking you in place as he feasted. He always loved going down on you, but this was different. This was hunger. The frenzy he'd somehow held off until now. He was devouring you.
You didn't care.
It was messier than usual, like he couldn't get enough, like he wanted to drown in your wetness. His lips kissed and sucked every inch of your slick folds, his tongue licking and flicking and slipping inside.
Your head thudded back against the mirror, fingers twisting in his hair. His name slipped from your lips in a breathy moan, blending with his low groans of approval against you. His hands held you firmly, but you trembled, chest rising and falling in frantic waves.
Your body was on the edge once more. Surges of white-hot pleasure shot through you when his lips closed around your clit and sucked hard. You cried out, back arching as you ground your hips against his face.
“Cass,” you breathed, his name a plea.
Rolling your clit between his lips, he looked up at you. A flicker of determination lit his dark eyes when he met your gaze, and a second later his fingers probed your entrance. He pushed two inside.
You cursed under your breath, eyes fluttering shut as Cassian curled his digits and rubbed that perfect spot. His hand tightened on your thigh when you squirmed, but you couldn't keep still anymore.
“You're… you're forgiven,” you babbled, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back the flood of filthy sounds. You failed miserably.
Cassian huffed a laugh against your slick flesh, and your hips jerked. His fingers drove deeper, twisting and curling just so, while his tongue never stopped teasing your clit. Not even when you shattered.
Your third climax crashed through you, and you couldn't help the broken cry that tore from your throat as you shuddered and squirmed. But Cassian was relentless. He still sucked, still stroked that spot inside you, even when you tugged at his hair in desperate search of reprieve.
He gave you none.
Only after your trembling stopped did his mouth leave you. Your eyes fluttered open to find him grinning up at you. It was the kind of grin that promised this was only the beginning.
His fingers stilled inside you as he stood, licking his lips. He kissed you—hungrily, greedily, stealing the air from your lungs—and you matched him with equal fervor, tasting yourself on his tongue.
And then, suddenly, his fingers slid out and he pulled you off the counter and spun you around. You yelped in surprise, but Cassian only chuckled.
“Look at you,” he murmured in your ear. One arm locked around your waist, pressing you back against his chest. “Look at us.”
Your gaze lifted to the mirror. Your face was flushed, your pupils wide, just like his. Cassian loomed behind you, wings tucked close, talons peeking over his shoulders. His eyes roved over your reflection, drinking in your heaving chest, your peaked nipples aching for his mouth again.
The mirror cut off just below your navel, the countertop hiding what lay beneath.
You pushed back against him, grinding against his hard cock nestled against your ass. Cassian sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening, and you smirked.
Covering his hand on your stomach with yours, you guided it lower, out of the frame and back between yours legs. “Are we going to fuck in front of the mirror?”
Cassian’s grin widened. “Later,” he promised. “We have all the time to test every surface, wall, and mirror in this house.” His hand slipped from beneath yours, and he laced your fingers with his instead. “But first, I want to test the bed. I want you on your hands and knees. I want you to ride me. I want you in every position that’s ever existed.”
With each word, your arousal spiked, as if your body had forgotten you’d already come three times. Normally, you’d be wrecked by now, begging Cassian for mercy. But you weren’t satisfied. Not even close.
You didn't argue when he led you toward the bedroom. “I remember someone complaining my dick wasn't inside of her,” he teased. You nodded, and he winked. “I’m going to fix that. And I’m going to make sure my mate never feels that way again.”
And he did. Mother above, he did.
The sun had long set and was already rising again by the time you collapsed into his arms. Not because the frenzy had burned out, but because your bodies needed rest, however brief. You bet you’d last for a couple hours. For Cassian, fifty minutes at most.
Even with orgasm after orgasm wrung from you both, even as his cock finally softened, neither of you could bear to be apart. Even if it was only for a little while. So when you curled up against his chest, legs tangled under the sheets, he stayed inside you. Soft and unmoving, but there, joining your bodies in a way nothing else could.
You fell asleep with your mind already set on tomorrow, on the quiet promise of doing it all over again the moment you woke.
~~~~~
Cassian didn’t sleep that night. He tried to, he really did, but the instinct to claim you one more time kept him up and vigilant. The need was a living thing inside of him, a beast screaming to be set free one last time. Except it wouldn’t be the only one. The sunrise was proof of how many “one last times” you’d shared since moving to the bedroom.
And his cock inside you? He still wasn't sure whether it helped or not. You were connected to each other, and your warmth was delicious. He loved feeling you around him, even when he wasn’t moving. On the other hand, though, he was inside you. The mating bond thrummed in his chest, its insatiable desire pulling his skin taut across his bones, as if aware even the smallest movement would bring back the satisfaction of the past hours. But even that would be fleeting.
When the wants and needs became overwhelming, Cassian caved in. At least two hours had passed. The sun was rising higher in the sky, and at least two sparrows were having an animated discussion just outside the window. He didn’t know how you were still sleeping.
Slowly, untangled himself from the embrace he’d held you in since you’d fallen asleep. You didn’t move. Not even a twitch in your cheek. So Cassian carefully tried to pull out, moving only a few inches at a time to gauge your reaction. As his cock finally slipped out, he was about to sigh in relief when you shifted.
He froze, waiting. But you only let out a small sigh and rolled on your stomach. He silently counted to ten, and when you didn’t open your eyes by the time he was done, he let out the breath he’d been holding.
The mattress dipped beneath him as he got up, stretching out his wings before folding them behind his back. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the pile of clothes he’d stored a few days ago, not bothering with underwear as he shrugged them on. Then, with one last glance at your sleeping form, he left the bedroom.
He needed to keep himself busy or he would go mad, and the kitchen had everything he needed to make you breakfast: eggs, butter, toast, and coffee. He set out to cook, even though he didn't know when you would wake up. He was just grateful to have something else to focus on for a little while.
A little while that was maybe a bit too little.
“Cass?”
Your sleepy voice called from the bedroom just as he was pouring the scrambled eggs into the frying pan. He went rigid, every cell in his body pulling him toward you, telling him to take you immediately.
Soft steps sounded behind him, and he finally turned around. Just like him, you hadn't bothered with clothes. The only thing covering you was one of his large shirts, and the sight stirred something inside him, and the sweatpants did little to conceal the outline of his erection.
You noticed it immediately. The lingering drowsiness in your eyes vanished as your gaze burned through the fabric of his pants. He watched your throat bob, your eyes darting to the pans on the stove as if debating what to do.
Cassian decided for you.
Food could wait. Neither of you could, and he was tired pretending otherwise. Without a word, he turned off the heat under the eggs. He didn't look forward to repeating the same mistake again.
He was in front of you in two single strides, mouth crashing against yours as if he hadn't kissed you in years. The little sound you made had him twitching in his pants. Never breaking the kiss, he grabbed your hips and started walking backward toward the couch. He only pulled back when he plopped down on the red cushions, but you followed soon after, climbing onto his lap and claiming his lips again.
“Need you to fuck me,” he mumbled between kisses, his hands roaming your thighs. “Please, sweetheart.”
You nipped playfully at his bottom lip. “That was the plan, my love.”
Lifting yourself off him, you reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, and Cassian raised his hips off the couch to allow you to drag them down just enough for his cock to spring free, already hard and leaking and aching.
You both looked down at it as you guided him to your wet folds and sank onto him, your cunt swallowing him greedily. Your groans mixed together as they rang through the room.
Your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, ready to pull it off, but Cassian stopped you, his fingers curling around your wrists.
“Keep it on,” he murmured. Seeing you on his lap, taking control while wearing his clothes, claiming him as yours in every possible way, was a very effective method to undo him in seconds.
You studied his face, then nodded. “Fine.” You gave him a mischievous smile. “But you let me wake up in an empty bed. You were gone.” He knew what you were about to say before you even opened your mouth. “Your dick was gone. Again.”
Maybe letting you ride him hadn't been such a good idea after all.
“Are you saying I'm going to pay for it?” he asked, already struggling not to thrust up into you. But you were so still above him, so calm and unbothered by everything, that he knew you wanted to drag this out.
“Yes,” you whispered, leaning closer. “We're doing things my way now.”
You kissed him again with a burning passion, but you didn't move. Your cunt fluttered around him, which told him enough about your own needs, but you held back. So at odds with the impatience you had exhibited only yesterday.
His hands slid up your bare thighs and beneath his shirt, settling on your waist. He didn't guide you to move, surrendering completely to whatever you had in mind.
Probably staying still until he begged you to fuck him. Or so he thought.
Instead, so lost in the hungry kiss, he didn't notice you had moved. His loud moan was muffled against your lips as you dragged a finger down his left wing. His body twitched, hips jerking up.
Cassian broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, his head falling back against the couch. “That’s cheating,” he managed, voice wrecked already.
You smirked, dragging your nails lightly along the sensitive membrane once more, and he shuddered violently. “No,” you whispered, lips brushing his jaw, “this is payback.”
His grip on your waist tightened when you repeated the gesture, his teeth gritting as he sucked in a breath.
“Shhh.” You trailed kisses down his throat, slow and deliberate, every brush of your mouth a test of his sanity and restraint. His hips twitched again, but your hands pressed firmly to his chest, holding him down. “I'm going to make you come like this.”
“Sweetheart…”
“And then I'll fuck you.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but only another groan came out. His eyes fluttered shut, and he just let it happen, welcoming it all. There was no changing your mind, anyway.
Over the years, you had learned every sensitive spot on his wings—the ones that made him tremble, the ones that drew the filthiest sounds from him, the ones that left him breathless. And now you used it all against him.
Every touch, every caress, every slow drag of your nail pushed him a little closer to the edge. When he squirmed and jerked up into you, you only bit your lip, as if barely feeling it. Meanwhile, he was panting, fingers digging into your waist, his skin burning where you left a kiss.
“My love…” he breathed. It came out as a pathetic whine.
He felt your lips curled into a smile against his neck. When your finger dragged down his wing again, applying just a bit more pressure than before, it pushed him past his breaking point.
His cock throbbed as he spilled into, and he heard a tiny gasp from you at last.
But you didn't give him time to catch his breath. Even as he slumped against the couch, you were already rocking your hips.
“Now I'm going to fuck you,” you murmured.
And you did, without holding back. You immediately set a fast pace, moving up and down on his cock. He matched your steady rhythm on instinct, hips snapping up to drive himself deeper inside you. The wet sounds filled the cabin, blending with both of your moans and gasps.
Cassian felt the bond's voracity loosen its grip on him as pleasure built again, but he knew it was only a moment's respite.
Yet it didn't matter. He didn't care. If this was the hunger he'd face for the rest of his life, he'd gladly spend the rest of his days trying to satisfy it.
Beneath the shirt, his hands slid up to your breasts, cupping the soft flesh, thumbs brushing your nipples. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes.
“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, drinking in the sight. You smiled, then thanked him by picking up your pace.
Cassian panted again, already feeling the knot of pleasure tightening in his core. He was close again. But your sharp moans told him you'd come with him this time, and he pushed on, determined to bring you both to the peak.
Your mouths met once more, desperate and greedy. When he squeezed your breasts, you brushed his wing again. And you both shuddered through another orgasm.
The eggs lay forgotten in the pan, the coffee untouched in its mugs.
~~~~
A week later, Cassian had done what he'd promised. The two of you had fucked on every surface of the cabin—from the wall to the floor, from the armchair to the dresser, in front of the mirror and in the tub.
For the first few days, you barely slept, barely ate. It just felt like wasted time, and you gave in only when your bodies begged for it. Often, you sat on Cassian's cock while you both picked at your food. It was the only way to get you to eat something, since you had apparently convinced yourself that taking him into your mouth and sucking him off would somehow trick your body into believing you were feeding it. Cassian had to bend you over his lap and spank that idea out of you.
But about a week later, the frenzy had quieted just enough for you to sit separately. Neither of you paid attention to the food, though, eyes locked on each other and hands trembling as you brought the forks up to your mouths. And then you were back at fucking.
Three dishes and two glasses shattered in the rush to reach each other as soon as you'd finished eating.
The only constant in your routine was the herbal tea you both drank every morning. Madja had given you one stronger than your usual before you'd left for the cabin. You and Cassian had agreed on not risking a pregnancy, not during your frenzy. A baby wasn't on your bucket list just yet.
It was during the second week that the first sign of exhaustion started to show. First, the pace was slower, more relaxed. It took you both a little longer to come, and Cassian began growing soft sooner. Then, you began sleeping for a few hours. Still not a full night of rest, but not even the two hours of the week before.
But it was only when Cassian fell asleep during sex, collapsing on top of you and pressing you into the mattress, that you knew something had to change. Because instead of waking him or pushing him off, you simply fell asleep too with an Illyrian as your blanket.
So Cassian decided you should take a break. Your bodies were sore and bruised. You had bite marks on your thighs and breasts, Cassian on his biceps and neck. His back was fully scratched too.
A relaxing bath was the solution.
You were sitting in front of him in the large tub, leaning back against his chest. His wings fanned out and rested against the edge, creating a little corner just for the two of you.
You had drifted off first, and Cassian had followed shortly after. He woke only when he felt you squirm against him.
He had no idea how much time had passed, but the hot water was now lukewarm and the bubbles from the oils he had poured in had disappeared.
“You okay?” he mumbled, his voice rough.
“Cass…”
The pleading now in your tone told him all he needed to know. And if that wasn't enough, then the way you pushed back and ground against his cock was pretty telling.
“Are you sure?” he murmured in your ear.
You nodded. “I need you.” But then, more quietly, you added, voice quivering, “I don't know if I can take it…”
Hearing you on the brink of tears, his heart clenched. “It's alright, sweetheart.” His lips brushed your shoulder. “I've got you. Just relax.”
His hands gently pushed your thighs apart, but not much, not wanting to overwhelm you. He only wanted to help you, his own needs forgotten.
His fingers found your clit, slowly circling it. Your breath hitched, and you lay your head on his shoulder, eyes still closed. He rested his cheek on top of your head.
You said nothing, barely made a sound, as Cassian pleasured you. His touch was gentle, his movements languid, and he was ready to spend his whole day like this if that was what you needed. He didn't pressure you, didn't say anything either, just offering what he could to make you feel better.
He was starting to think you’d fallen asleep again when you whispered, “More, please.”
“As you wish, my love,” he murmured, brushing your clit one last time before his fingers moved lower.
Your leg twitched when he pushed a single digit inside you. You found his hand that had been resting on your hip and laced your fingers together, squeezing gently.
“More…”
Cassian obeyed and slipped a second finger in. When you hummed quietly, letting him know that was all you wanted, he curled them inside you. He lazily stroked you, feeling your cunt flutter around his fingers, deliberately avoiding that sensitive spot until, minutes later, you breathed another “more, please.”
When you finally came, it was quiet. Nothing like the loud, twitching orgasms you'd had over the past two weeks. Just a soft gasp and the weary trembling of a still sore body, but it was probably Cassian's favorite reaction.
He pulled his fingers out and kissed your temple, then he sank lower in the tub, pulling you with him until the water reached your chin.
“Sleep, my love,” he whispered against your hair. He held you tight and closed his eyes too.
~~~~
By the fourth week, the frenzy had begun to fade. When you had sex, it was back to your normal rhythms from before you'd accepted the bond. You still did it more often than usual, but not nearly as much as the past few weeks. And now it was mostly sweet and gentle and unhurried, nothing like the raw, rough sex of before. You weren't fucking anymore—you were making love now.
The need was still there, not entirely gone just yet, but it didn't consume you anymore. You were in control, and most of the time it was easy to keep it at bay.
“Do you think we could go back to Velaris?” you asked one day over lunch. “I kind of miss home…”
Cassian looked up from his plate. “Honestly? Me too.” He gave you a small, tired smile before his expression became serious. “But do you think we're ready?”
You pondered his question, slowly chewing the last bite of your food. When you swallowed, you finally answered. “We could wait until we spend one whole day without sex, which also means no touching or grinding. None of that.”
“So just kisses, then?”
You nodded. “Yes, but only on the mouth. Nowhere else.”
Cassian considered, but eventually he smiled again. “Alright, sweetheart. It sounds like a fair deal.”
And it was also easier said than done.
That same day, you ended up naked on the couch. The evening after, you were making out and suddenly his mouth was on your nipples. The following morning, you made love as soon as you woke up.
It took another five days before you finally managed twenty-four hours with nothing but kisses and hugs. A lingering ache still throbbed deep in your core, but it was easy enough to ignore. You were sure it would disappear completely in a few more days.
Yet, as Cassian scooped you up into his arms and took to the skies, it proved a challenge not to let that need overtake you during the thirty minutes it took him to fly back home.
And though you wouldn’t stop teasing Feyre about it, at least now you could understand why she and Rhys had done it in the sky.
hi sol coming to u w another cassian request (there’s a serious lack of fics for him it hurts my heart :( )
but i always see this trope done w az where he’s confused between elain and reader, can we do one where cass is confused between nesta and reader? cass and reader have been together for decades, and maybe cassian starts to train nesta and in his fear of actually letting someone love him, he pushes his affections towards nesta because their relationship is difficult and that’s what he knows love to be. that’s what he feels comfortable in so he breaks it off with reader. telling her he think nesta might be his mate.
reader, as devastated as she is lets him go because she knows she and cass are mates, but she takes the approach of “as long as he’s happy i can live with that.” and as time passes cassian realizes like no, this isn’t how love always is. it can be peaceful and light and lovely. and that he and nesta find peace within each others friendship but he knows she isn’t it for him. and then so much groveling. begging on his knees, pleading for his sweat heart to take him back. maybe the bond snaps for him and since reader isn’t used to his knowledge of the bond and him feeling her feelings she accidentally projects all her sorrow down the bond and he takes his time proving that he’s sorry and that he loves you.
Fool For You
pairing: cassian x reader
warnings: angst, swearing, breakup/makeup vibes, possible smut, implied suicidal ideation, implied drug abuse, heavy themes, fluff is sprinkled in there but will be more prominent in part 2 , ugh i fricken love when you guys request the angsty stuff, brings me a special kinda happiness
—
You feel it before you ever see it coming.
This rift that forms, grows; solidifies between you and Cassian.
He doesn’t shuffle in as close at night like he used to, hands gripping at every inch of bared skin as if touch alone would brand his name against the surface. Instead, he sneaks under the covers, freshly showered and hair braided in a way that you’ve never taught him.
You wait for the kiss, the rumble of his voice and the whisper of his breath as lips form the words I love you.
He never says it.
His back faces yours and never once does he reach for you in his slumber. “Is everything alright?” You muster up the bravery to ask the following morning, sheets gripped near your chest like armor as you watch him strap the holsters for his weapons against his back and thighs.
“Fine.”
Even inch of you wants to believe him but his words are short, clipped; utterly uninterested. “Are you sure?”
His mouth purses, parts, closes again as if he’s got something to say but isn’t sure how to word it. “Everything’s alright—just distracted is all.”
Your head nods robotically, hearing but not believing. “You hungry? I can make you something before you go.”
“No need. I have plans.”
He doesn’t stay to watch the way your face falls. Doesn’t linger for a kiss or to brush pillow-mussed hair out of your face. Cassian’s gone before your lungs can even complete the process of a full breath.
You try to brush it off. To busy yourself with fixing the sheets, fluffing pillows and tidying up the space you share. But, instead of finding peace, your cleaning becomes obsessive; reorganizing the closets, shining shoes and sifting through the clutter in bedside drawers.
You don’t even mean to find it—you have no intention of snooping but the folded piece of parchment finds you anyway, catching on the bracelet dangling from your wrist and slicing at the soft skin beneath it. “Ow,” You hiss, inspecting a cut so shallow blood doesn’t even draw. Not until your focus shifts back to the crumpled paper that was shoved in the shadows.
Any comfort you’d accumulated promptly burns to ashes when you read its contents. The hope you’d latched onto smashes like glass, littering the space around you in glittering shards as you read Cassian’s blocky scrawl. It’s filled with confessions of a love not meant for you. Addressed to a name that’s not your own.
You’re not even sure when the tears start, just distantly aware of trails of wetness dampening the slope of your cheeks, traveling down the curve of your chin and neck.
The love note is damn near memorized by time Cassian finds his way back to the room, hours having passed in the blink of an eye and he stands as still as a board when he finds you in a crumpled heap on the floor, paper pinched between your fingers, eyes studying the words as if it’ll change who they’re meant for. He says your name with such caution, clearly expecting you to greet him with anger and malice but that would take up too much energy—energy that had been leached from your bones, leaving behind nothing but the husk of who you’d once been.
“How long?” You finally croak out, voice void and lifeless.
Cassian is too quiet for too long, clearly searching for the right words until the truth takes the reins and spills itself before you. “A few months.”
“A few months.” The way your shoulders cave in is devastating. You look like the sun with no light. A flower with no stem. A bird with no wings. “Then this isn’t just you being overly flirtatious. This is…there’s feelings involved here.”
“I can explain.”
You can’t help but cut him off before he finds some charming way to explain himself out of your ire. Taking the reins of the conversation is all too easy—the power entirely too addicting. “To explain, not apologize.” The breath you take is heavy, settles in your belly like lead. “You’re here to end this?”
Cassian takes a step closer and instinctively you take a step back, arms crossing over your chest in attempts to hold yourself together. “I have to.” It’s then that you pick up on the scent that sticks to him. One you recognize. One that doesn’t belong to you or the bottles of perfume you keep. “I think she could be my mate.”
You can’t work up the nerve to look him in the eye, fearful that the simple act of eye contact would be enough to have the tears bursting free from the dams working overtime to keep the current at bay. A deep breath fills your lungs, spine lengthening as you force strength into the fibers of your tone. “Okay.”
He reaches for you, fingertips millimeters away from brushing the curve of your cheek but you flinch away—creating space. His spine sags with remorse, shoulders set with shame, hand falling limp at his sides with regret pooling at his fingertips and you’ve had enough when hazel irises fill with pity. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Don’t be sorry, Cassian.” Your voice breaks, your smile shakes but it still doesn’t rob you of the kindness that drew him in in the first place. “Just be happy.”
—
The shift that follows is immediate, all of his things boxed up and left in front of the door of his old room. You don’t fuss or fight, you don’t even break anything. You just pack it up and return it to its rightful owner.
You remove yourself from family breakfasts and avoid shared dinners like the plague in fears of seeing Cassian flaunt his love with Nesta without a care in the world.
You ignore your found family’s attempts at comfort, brushing off any and all inquiries on how you’re feeling. Turning down invitations for nights out to try to get your mind off things. Shutting down irate rants from your friends as they ramble about all the ways you didn’t deserve this—how they wanted to make it right for you. “Don’t bother,” The words come out so softly, laced with such defeat its devastating.
“No!” Mor can barely contain her disdain, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a sneer. “This is wrong. What he’s doing—what they’re doing is wrong. You and Cass have loved eachother for decades all for him to throw it away over some cauldron-made floozy? I can’t just sit back and watch that happen.” She’s pacing, heels clacking against the hardwood floors so harshly you’re sure dents begin to mark their way through the shinny finish. “Why are you so damn calm?”
“Because, what’s the point?” You shrug, red wine swirling in your glass. It’s strong, a little bitter but it numbs you so gently, like morphine injected directly into your veins. “How foolish do I already look as the female who feels too much for a male who clearly felt nothing for me. Making a scene about it would just add insult to injury.” Your eyes are distant, fixed on a random spot on the freshly painted walls in the new apartment Rhysand insisted on funding. It’s bare; empty, walls void of character and atmosphere sucked dry of all care. “He thinks she’s his mate Mor. Her. I just don’t understand why he can’t see—“ Your head shakes left to right, chest caving in. Wine quickly fills that chasm, glass refilling every time you reach the bottom.
You don’t even mean to say it really.
Drunk words being sober thoughts and all that.
But, Mor latches onto the unfinished sentence like glue. Eyebrows furrow, pupils expand in confusion before dilating to pinpricks when realization settles in. “Can’t see…that you’re his mate.” Puzzle pieces fuse together, a perfect picture being painted right before her very eyes but the image is distorted; the wrong face on a familiar figure. “There is a bond. You are his mate—he just doesn’t know. You never told him.”
You don’t so much as flinch at her conclusion. Only sigh, prettily painted toes grazing through the fluff of your throw rug. “Doesn’t matter much now.” More wine fills your glass until the decanter runs empty, the corners of your mouth tugging down in a frown. “I don’t think it ever even mattered at all.”
The flowy fabric of Mor’s dress billows as she plops down beside you, weight sinking into the soft cushions of your couch. A fresh bottle appears in her grasp, cork releasing with a pop but this one she doesn’t share, just drinks straight from the source. It’s cradled to her chest, eyes trained on the side of your face, cataloging the lifelessness of your skin, the bags growing under your eyes, the way your cheeks begin to thin out from lack of true sustenance. “Just say something to him.” She urges, her tone pleading; eyes begging. “Say anything. I can’t stand to see you like this.”
“Say what?” Your head falls back in something worse than defeat; something more like acceptance as your neck rests on the lip of the couch. “No bond forces two as one, and he wants her.” Fresh tears gather in your waterline, sliding down your cheeks so silently you barely notice them. “He wants her.”
She says your name, vocalizing the syllables so softly, so full of pity it lurches you from your spot before the sorrow roots you in place.
“You know what, if he’s happy, then I’m ecstatic. I have so much free time now.” Clammy hands wipe against linen sleep shorts as you stand, shifting over to a pile of boxes in the corner. You occupy yourself with unpacking, finding new homes for items collected in another lifetime. “I can pick up a hobby or travel or something—I’ve always loved Summer and I’m sure Rhys could use someone to start mending the rift between the courts. It’ll be like a paid vacation.”
It’s obvious your friend wants to object. Wants to call you out on the avoidance that begins to take place but for some reason she doesn’t bother. Maybe she see’s that you can’t take much more—that the flame of your fight has been snuffed out and you’re barely able to keep the remaining embers alive. Instead, she nods, crossing her legs under her and silently watches the way you convert your emotions into finding the perfect place for pictures and obsessing over which wall best suits a rack full of throw blankets. “How long of a vacation?”
“However long it takes to be able to be in the same room as them without feeling sick to my stomach.”
You say it like a joke but nobody laughs.
—
Turns out, Rhys has a soft spot for broken women. Big brother instincts running on overdrive at the sight of your watery eyes, composure crumpling at a voice that cracks under the weight of the world on your shoulders. One look at your torment and you’ve been granted permission for an all expense paid trip for his favorite —only— emissary. The paperwork is drafted hastily, sent out to neighboring courts before the ink even has the chance to fully dry. A few responses return within the hour, requests granted, a list of stipulations attached and agreed upon before basic necessities are packed away and winnowed off to your first stop before the sun even begins to peak its head above the horizon.
You don’t even linger long enough to say goodbye.
Given the fact that there’s no timeline listed in the fine print of your extended leave, guilt lives in your gut at the abrupt departure but Rhys promises to handle the fallout in your absence and you can’t help but admit the distance is a indescribable relief. Perhaps, it’s the way Summer Court accepts you, although a bit hesitantly at first. Tarquin watches you like a hawk your first few weeks, cataloging your every move until he’s certain you truly are there to rebuild trust instead of being some pretty Night Court spy slinking about in search of their secrets or weaknesses.
Six months pass and instead of hovering out of necessity, he deigns to keep you close by choice; your quarters no more than twenty steps away from his own and filled with radiant opulence. Early mornings are spent with breakfasts shared, treaties discussed, plans made for leisurely strolls through his city until a genuine care is curated for his people and the customs they share. “Do you ever come up for air?” The High Lord muses over his fork, sausage speared through the shiny silver prongs.
Fluffy eggs are piled on jammy toast, crumbs catch on the corner of your mouth but you make sure not a speck stains the packet of papers your free hand holds onto, eyes skimming over trade agreements and a list of needs personally extracted from skilled healers, fresh market mangers and dock workers. Things they require from Night Court that they’ve lived without given the strain. “I can hold my breath for quite some time, you know. Nowhere near the end of my reserves yet.”
It’s a cheeky response. A little dry. Comfort in your environment bleeds through your tone and the High Lord before you grins at your casual banter.
“I can see that,” He shrugs casually, leaning deeper into his chair. Ankles cross under the table, his hair tumbling over the bare chest exposed in his unbuttoned linen top. “I suppose, I’m just worried you’ll burnout if you keep at this pace.”
“The wellbeing of your people is important,” You insist, one hand blindly reaching for a flute of champagne and orange spritz. “They’ve gone without for much too long.”
He hums, nodding softly in agreement. Under the table, his foot nudges your own, forcing your attention to him. “And you? What of your wellbeing?” Your brows furrow in confusion. “You haven’t mentioned a word of your family since the first week you arrived. No letters, no visits—your birthday is tomorrow. Were you planning on going back to celebrate?”
You bristle at the reminder, toast falling back onto to your plate, now forgotten. Champagne is sipped as you struggle to clear the knot beginning to form in your throat, guilt gnawing in your belly, forcing you to acknowledge the radio silence you’ve upheld towards the people you love back home. “How do you know about that?”
“Rhysand sent over a summons for your return for the special occasion.”
You groan, papers abandoned in favor of holding your head in your hands. A tension headache begins to form right between your eyes, vision already going blurry at the irritating thump, thump, thump that takes root beneath the surface.
“Well, some greeting that is.”
You jump at the sound of a familiar voice; it’s melodic, sultry, accompanied by the rhythmic click of high heels against polished floors. Wide eyes catch on the approaching figure clad in red, blonde hair falling down in waves down her shoulders. “Mor? What are you doing here?”
“I’m your summons.” She grins, not-so-subtly taking you in from head to toe. A little pout forms when noticing the weight-loss, the eye bags, the way you’ve let your roots grow out. “Rhys had a feeling you might ignore him if he only sent a letter.” You’re too stunned to stand but it doesn’t seem to deter her in the slightest as she continues her appraisal of you, arms wrapping around your shoulders in a hug. One nearly too tight.
Patting the arm around your neck, you shoot daggers at Tarquin but he pointedly ignores it, occupying himself by stuffing his mouth with fresh fruit topped with sweet whipped creams. “How proactive of him.” The words grit out like sand stubbornly stuck inside a shoe. “But, I hadn’t really intended to come back until I finished things here.”
“Boo!” She protests, swiftly snagging the glass of champagne you’d been nursing before her arrival. “If I accepted that answer, you’d never come home!” Mor says it like a joke but you can hear the truth in her words, the concern beginning to bleed into her tone, the desperate way she keeps her hands on your shoulder as if she’s afraid you’re going to disappear without a trace. “Please? It’ll be fun, I promise. I ordered a whole case of that good wine you like and I convinced Az to smuggle an ounce of mirthroot from the dealer he refuses to share with us.” She goes on for a few minutes, words running a mile a minute, more pretty promises spilling free until she see’s your walls begin to crumble.
You hate yourself for it, yet somehow, someway, Mor cons you into returning home for your birthday. The domino effect of your agreement is immediate and overwhelming. You, being dragged away from the table and led to your room so she can riffle through your closet and pick out enough clothes to last you a week. “Mor, I’m only going to be home for the night, two nights max—you’re packing my bag like I’m gearing up for war.”
“Just wanted to make sure you have options.” A white lie that’s easily detected, especially when she spends too much time collecting your usual jewelry from the dish resting on your bedside. “Speaking of options, how often do you and the High Lord of Summer spend breakfasts together?”
Shoulders shrug, your ass plopping onto the generous cushion of your mattress. “Everyday.”
A perfectly plucked brow raises. “Oh, really?” A conspiratorial smirk lives in the glossy corners of her mouth. “And does he always arrive at these breakfasts so….scandalously dressed?”
“This is Summer Court if you hadn’t noticed—can you blame the male for showing off a little chest?”
“A little chest?” Mor scoffs, hair flicking off one shoulder. “There’s nothing little about that male, anyone with eyes could get lost in the abs and a v-line peeking through that sorry excuse of a shirt. Don’t even get me started on his piercing.”
Eyes roll, a hint of a blush growing along the curve of your ears. It’d been so long since you’d had anything remotely close to girl-talk. “It’s perfectly normal here for males and females to have their belly’s pierced.”
Breezy pants, skimpy skirts and barely there shirts are robbed from your dresser, neatly folded and stowed away. Dresses with tummy cut-outs and generous necklines, thin tube tops and shorts so small their only purpose is to conceal the naughty bits are waved in the air with a pleased nod. “You’re going to give the boys back home a heart attack when you come through wearing these.”
“I don’t wear them to catch attention, I wear them to work on my tan.”
“And tan you are, one could mistake you for an Illyrian with that hue—it’s pretty. Makes your eyes pop.”
“You know what’ll really make my eyes pop? Some of that mirthroot. Did you bring it with you or was it just a bribe to get me back?” You’re being a brat, you know that. Mor knows that too. Either way, she supplies your needs, procuring a pretty velvet bag and tossing it your way. The scent smacks you in the face the moment you loosen its ties and a giddy little grin smears itself across your face. “Happy birthday to me—have you any clue how hard it is to find a reputable dealer here? Liqour, powder and mushrooms? Easy peasy. Anything else was next to impossible.”
Content with her pickings of your items, Mor leaves them by the door, following your lead to the balcony attached to your chambers. There’s a comfortable seating arrangement, brightly colored flowers blooming in golden pots that soak up sunlight and reflect its beauty. A spiral copper staircase leads directly to a rooftop pool that overlooks Tarquins personal gardens. Birds chirp, fish swim about in man-made ponds and crickets sing their song in the neatly trimmed bushes below. “Since when do you dabble in powder?”
“Since I found out my mate had been cheating on me with another female.”
It’s said so casually Mor freezes in place. Blue eyes slowly flicking over to you but you’re otherwise occupied, fingers breaking up buds, blunt paper unwrapped and catching the ground up plant. Your motions are fluid, practiced; something you seem to do often enough to have it completely rolled and sealed in under forty seconds.
“Don’t worry, I don’t have a problem or anything. Powder didn’t agree with me much.” One hand reaches over and a box of matches and an ash tray is procured from a little nook in the wall by the balcony doors. “Mushrooms were fun at first, until I started hallucinating images of my ex making out with his newest conquest in vivid detail.” The spark of flame to wood is like breathing for the first time again after swimming underwater for hours. Relieving. A saving grace. A life raft in the middle of a turbulent storm. “Liqour was my safest option but after a few times being caught belligerently drunk around town in the dead of the night, Tarquin started following me everywhere I went like he was afraid I was going to take a tumble off the cliffside.” You finally meet her gaze. “That’s why we have breakfast every morning—why we seem so close? He’s babysitting me so I don’t do something stupid to myself.”
Mor’s mouth opens, closes; tears welling up in her waterline. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Legs cross over the other, frame situating itself in the floating wicker chairs cushioned with pillows the shade of teal. “Wouldn’t be great for Court diplomacy if Night’s emissary died on Summer’s turf.” Your shrug on the topic is annoyingly flippant, worryingly detached, painfully numb. “Anyways, how’s home? Anything new?”
She swallows thickly, searching for composure, pushing blonde hair away from her cheeks as the summer breeze shifts through the fabrics of her dress. “It’s really not the same without you there. Things are quiet—tense even. Like a machine trying to move without a vital piece.” Fingers gently pinch around the passed blunt, smoke flowing past her lips when she keeps speaking, eyes memorizing the lush sight of a trim garden, waterfalls and fountains, walkways encrusted with gems that sparkle where the light touches. “You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t write. Didn’t visit. I—we miss you, you know?”
Vision blurring, throat working over the emotion beginning to knot in it, you nod. “I miss me too.” You brush the vulnerability off as quickly as it appeared. “It’s nice to see you though, hadn’t realized how much until you got here.”
To keep your hands busy, you already begin rolling another, opting to let Mor keep the first to herself so you don’t have to keep passing back and forth. So you don’t have to explain why you inhale too hard and hold the smoke in your lungs too long. Why your hands shake or explain your dissociating when the thoughts get too loud.
All you wanted was something to numb the ache beginning to return in your chest.
“Do you know how much longer you’re going to be here?”
“I’m less than two weeks away from completing the re-organization of trade routes. Tolls and taxes have been reviewed, negotiated and signed off on. Just need to cross my t’s and dot my I’s before it’s time for me to move onto the next.”
Mor sits up straight, ash pooling into a little mountain in the tray. “To the next? You won’t be coming home right away?”
Utter silence fills the gaps, fingers fidgeting as you pick at your cuticles until they bleed.
“Are you ever going to come back?”
“We’ll be heading over after we finish these, I reckon.”
You know that’s not what she means.
You don’t look to see the way she deflates, attempts to fight the choice before giving up altogether. Frustration settles between her brows, sticks to the scrunch of her nose and smudges the corners of her mouth. Mor’s next pull is vicious, compulsive; smoke huffing out her nostrils like an angered dragon fighting not to breath fire. “Suppose I’ll just have to cherish you while you last then.”
It hurts. Stabs a sensitive piece of you that lacks proper armor but you take the hit. Eat the injury and take it to the chest like you do all the other punches thrown your way. “Guess so.”
—
The high that permeates through your bloodstream satiates your nerves long enough to muster up the strength to winnow back to the Court that raised you.
Too bad it doesn’t last nearly as long as you’d hoped.
Perhaps it’s the familiarity of this house and the people in it because your throat begins to swell shut when you step through the doors and are bombarded by a flurry of familiar faces.
Feyre is first to snatch you up, slender arms wrapping around your neck like a cobra ready to coil its body around you to keep you rooted in place. Tears wet your bare shoulders as muffled words of relief is breathed into your neck. “You actually came! I was so worried you wouldn’t.”
Rhys has to pull her back, intuitive to the way you try and fail to relax into the embrace. His welcome is far more tame, though the true extent of his emotion lives in his eyes—shown mostly in the way they scan you over, his smile there but weak as what he sees worries him to the bone. Your skin glows from all the sun but your soul withers like flowers who’d forgotten how to bloom. “I trust Tarquin’s been taking good care of you?”
“More than good,” You fix a smile on your face to soothe his concern. “He hovers worse than you do.”
Something in his posture implies he knows more about that than he lets on, hands rustling through your hair like a fond older brother. He memorizes the scrunch of your nose and the girlish way you struggle to get your hair back into place.
The sound of heavy steps forces you to turn, a tether pulling you taut until your eyes meet the ones that haunt your every dream. He’s a little smaller than you remember, hair cut a bit shorter than you used to do it. A braid you never taught him how to do is weaved behind his right ear, dangling like a reminder that another woman’s hands touch what used to belong to you. Cassian’s voice is all but a whisper when he finally works the nerve to use it. “You came back.”
“Didn’t have much choice, Mor wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”
Her arm wraps around your shoulder, holding you close like she can tell your knees are going weak at the sight of him. “Damn straight.” She pulls you along before you get the idea to retreat and even though you have to pass Cassian to get to your old room, Mor stands as barrier between you and him.
You can’t help the glance over your shoulder, eyes meeting his once more. All he can do is stare, frozen in place; mouth agape as whatever words he’d intended dies in his throat as he looks at you like it’s the first time but you’re already turning the corner before you dare to figure out why.
“Where’s Az?”
“Finishing up some final touches for tomorrow. You’ll see him later.” Excitement bleeds through her every move, the contents of your bag on the bed like a kid sifting through a candy store. “It’ll be really casual tonight, family only—just to catch up. Hope you’re hungry.”
A glass and a half of wine and a blunt later, you are actually quite hungry. Mor forces you into a change of clothes, a comfy tube top and breezy pants that sit low, showing off the shape of your hips and the cute new dermals pierced into the dimples of your back.
It’s the first thing Feyre brings up when you enter the dining room. “Do they hurt?”
More wine is poured, an abundance of food being portioned off and placed before you. “Couldn’t say, I was a little wasted when we got them.”
“We?”
“The High Lord of Summer is incredibly daring off of faerie wine.”
You feel eyes boring holes into the side of your face, hanging onto every word like a fly caught in a trap. Teeth grind auadibly. Strained smiles are carved in the corner of Cassian’s mouth asa you enthusiastically recount your time alongside Tarquin and his people. Nails bite into the palm of his hands beneath a satin table cloth so dark it resembles an abyss.
Everyone’s celebrating, conversations carrying, voices overlapping, laughs bleeding into one another and yet you cant shake the irritating hyperawareness of Cassian’s eyes on your body. Subtly, you search for Nesta, scanning the room for her steely gaze and perpetually elegant updo’s but her presence never appears. You try not to look too far into it, willing your heart not to care at all but the task is a fools arrand.
No matter how many’s attempts made, your line of sight continues to gravitate his way; admiring the line of his shoulders, the width of his chest, the dimples that appears in his cheeks when he submits to the smiles his family draws from him.
You suppose it’s your fault in the end when Cassian mistakes your stare for invitation, his boisterous voice cutting through the clutter of conversation to insert his own inquiries in the mix. “Are you with him?”
Your jaw clenches, lids narrowing. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“I think you and I both know exactly why it is my business.”
Instead of taking the bait and outing the mating bond you keep tucked away, you fixate on the soft plush of the rug beneath your toes. Over-analyze the obsidian rimmed crystalware holding specially procured wines. Inspecting the spices used in the roast and mash that used to be your favorite meal but now every bite disintegrates like ash on your tongue.
Fingers itch for a reprieve. A distraction. Another drink. More mirthroot.
A cross fade would ease the tension that lives in your shoulders, setting root in your spine until you sit like a statue in a place that should feel like freedom.
“I’m going to grab more ice, drinks getting warm.”
No one fights you even if they do follow your figure until it disappears into the kitchen. Grounding breaths are taken, hands braced against the countertops as you force your emotions in check, shoving them in a tiny little box so the ache doesn’t render you useless.
The double doors open behind you, a slightly annoyed sigh escaping you. “Mor I—“ Morrigan isn’t the one standing behind you. Elain is, watching you with a knowing look in her doe eyes. “Elain? I’m sorry —“
“You know,” Her soft tone cuts you off in a way that seems more charming than disrespectful. She takes her sweet time putting on her floral mitts before retrieving a fresh tray of baked goods out of the oven. “I dream about you sometimes.” Your jaw clenches, brows scrunching in slight confusion and yet you say nothing. “Of you and your mate.”
Your blood runs cold, heart all but stopping in your chest. “What did you just say?”
Pairing(s): Azriel, Cassian, Rhysand, and Eris x f!Reader (separate)
Contains: fluff / est. relationship
WC: ~2.4k (approx. 500 - 600 each)
Azriel
It was a strong start to summer. Spring was hardly giving way to unrelenting heat, and despite being Prythian's northernmost court, it was futile.
The heat waited for no one. War didn’t care about the weather. Not that there was a war going on, but Azriel insisted on training like there would be any day. Just in case. It was a force of habit—centuries old—to start training at dawn. Sometimes alone, sometimes with his brothers.
By mid-morning, he’d shed the upper half of his training leathers. Cassian had too. Somewhere between the past two sparring rounds ending in a tie, the swords had been traded for bare knuckles. Dust kicked up and muddied their sweaty skin, with dirt under their nails and in crevices. Warrior versus warrior, some of the strongest of their kind—and the Night Court—had ever seen.
The brothers panted, a stubbornness rivaling the blistering heat, as neither of them wanted to surrender to the other. They were a balanced tangle of muscles, limbs, and wings. Cassian’s provoking comments, teeming with grunts, slipped into Azriel’s ear. He’d heard it all to the point of desensitization, and Azriel wouldn’t budge.
All comments but one. Luck sprinted from Azriel’s corner and into Cassian’s, the general grinning with the taste of victory stuck between his teeth.
“Oh, what’s this, brother?” Cassian teased, catching the barest crimson stain behind Azriel’s ear, tucked under a dark, sweaty curl stuck to his skin. too purposeful, too solid to be blood, and too dark to be a blush. As if to provoke Azriel further, Cassian held his brother in a headlock with one arm as the other quickly moved the lock of hair hiding it. It took a second to register the smearing mark from contact, sweat, and grime, but when he did, Cassian’s shock gave way to great amusement.
It was a second, long enough to give Azriel an opening. He threw his weight back, turning the tables and pinning Cassian face down onto the dirt. Yet Cassian was unbothered, as if his discovery were a far better victory than some sparring session.
Azriel’s eyes narrowed on Cassian, his knee digging into his shoulder blades. "What are you laughing about?” Azriel huffed, sweat dripping down his nose lazily. Cassian laughed harder. Azriel was more confused, getting off of his brother to sit beside him.
Azriel was catching his breath. Cassian was trying, but a lull was followed by another bout of laughter. Azriel rolled his eyes, lightly kicking Cassian’s side. “What are you on about?”
“You should clean the back of your ears better,” Cassian teased, relishing his brother's rare confusion as he pushed himself off the dirt with a grunt. Azriel barely raised a brow. Lo and behold, a pair of curious shadows swirled into that spot only to whisper in his ear.
Lipstick stain. Mate's present was left for Master.
His fingers brushed against your "gift," a flush unrelated to the heat and exertion from training prickling his skin. Cassian's laughter was suddenly distant as he was more focused on the phantom pressure of your lips from the night before. You were giddy, teasing, and delirious with the late hour, and instead of wiping your makeup off like you'd normally do, you decided kissing it off against his skin was much better. You said he was an irresistibly perfect canvas, red smudges gradually fading all over his neck and jaw between giggles. He'd washed them off this morning—or at least he thought he'd gotten them all.
Cassian ruffled Azriel’s hair as he passed by, causing the shadow singer to blink out of his trance.
Azriel was considering three things. 1) How long could he avoid his family, whom Cassian was going to undoubtedly tell right now? 2) He is definitely getting you back for this somehow. And 3) how soon he could make your mark a tattoo.
Cassian
"Gods, where are those two?" More grumbled, tapping her foot impatiently as she glanced at the clock. For the first time in a long time, whether it was luck, the stars aligning, or divine intervention, she had managed to not only find a free night in everyone's schedules but also convince everyone to go out to Rita's.
At least that was the plan.
"If these two aren't down in the next five minutes, I'm ditching them and getting drunk alone," she added under her breath, glaring down the hallway where Cassian's room was. Rhys chuckled from beside her, swirling his wine with one hand as the other one slipped around Feyre’s waist, drawing her off the arm of the couch and into his lap.
"No, you won't," Rhys mused knowingly. “For one, you'd get bored halfway there, and two, you've been begging us to go out for ages. Besides, mates who have been apart for so many weeks could be more insufferable," he added, tipping the glass towards her before taking a sip.
She rolled her eyes and sipped her wine.
It was in between idle conversation that a door opened down the hall, followed by a jolly whistle.
Mor huffed in mock exasperation, leaning back enough to look over at the couch and down the hall. "It took you long enough. If I—"
Her words died, a mixed buzz of amusement and disbelief taking over. She snorted a laugh into her glass as Cassian stepped into the full light. Rhys, Azriel, and Feyre gave similar reactions.
"What the hell are you wearing?" she snickered, turning to look at him fully. The general wore dark trousers and a dark shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, showing off his forearms carved from endless hours of training and battle. His hands were in his pockets, and a very proud grin was on his face.
"What? What’s wrong with my outfit?" he replied, as if nothing were unusual. In the center of his chest was a white tie, once spotless silk, now smothered in lipstick stains of varying opacity.
"No," Feyre began, trying and failing to hide her laugh. "It's just...it’s definitely something."
"Thanks, I'm trying something new." Cassian ignored her thinly veiled amusement, his own swallowing his smug pride, especially with his wider grin. "Had some help."
"Don't listen to whatever he's saying!" You called out from down the hall, your mate senses tingling with his smug mischief. You emerged, sparkly, fixing your earrings and giving a playful glare at your mate. "I told him not to wear it, but it was like talking to a brick wall."
Cassian feigned offense, though it didn't last long, not with the cackle erupting from him. He drew you closer, like it was sacrilegious to be in the same room and not touch you in some way. "But why? You gave me a gift. Should I not be using it?"
"It was a gag gift at best," you deadpanned.
"Still a gift. And what better sign of being taken than this?" he added with a smirk, smoothing the tie with a large hand like it was a priceless trophy.
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you decided this wasn’t a battle you were choosing today.
If it weren't for Cassian remaining near you all night, the tie certainly did work as a deterrent.
Rhysand
The rain was steady, on and off all day. Low-lying clouds swallowed the red mountain peaks surrounding Velaris. Mist kissed your skin and collected like morning dew in your hair as you leaned against a windowsill.
You didn't come here to find something or get away from another. It was happenstance that you were walking back from the kitchen and the view drew you in. The House of Wind was quiet save for the bone-deep hum of its magic and the rain.
You were caught up in drifting thoughts and watching rain trickle through the earth to spot Rhys. Maybe he took advantage of your distraction, or maybe you were used to his safety.
He stood at the end of the hall, hands in his pockets, and enamored joy settled comfortably in his chest. He watched you against the rain, framed by the arched window, with your dewy skin and frizzy hair, and for a moment he wondered if it was too soon to marry you all over again.
"You okay?” he asked lightly instead of a second proposal, though he would’ve in a less restrained state.
Your head snapped his way, surprise softening for familiarity. You huffed a laugh, a hand splayed on your chest. "You scared me.”
Rhys chuckled quietly, closing the gap with languid strides until he stood beside you. He gently nudged your shoulder with his, his way of a halfhearted apology. "What happened to 'I know you by your footsteps’?” he teased, his grin widening as you rolled your eyes.
"I was distracted and didn’t hear you coming. Otherwise, I certainly would’ve, Bigfoot," you sassed. Rhys feigned offense so theatrically it must've been Cassian finally rubbing off on him.
"Oh, so that’s how you want to play,” he growled playfully, pulling you close and playfully nipping wherever he could reach—your cheeks, nose, neck, and ear. "Calling me Bigfoot, huh?” he grumbled between nips and occasional kisses. It was ticklish, the surprised gasp cascading into shrieking laughter. You smelled like rain, sandalwood, and love.
He nipped your cheek a second time before withdrawing enough to let you catch your breath and for him to take in the aftermath. Your frizzy hair clinging to your cheeks and forehead, your hands resting over his heartbeat while yours was still steadying. As beautiful as always, he thought.
He leaned closer, violet eyes narrowed yet twinkling. "Do you yield, beloved?” he whispered, drawing you close enough for your nose to brush against his. You let your eyes soften with affection, feigning defeat at the edges. Rhys was too smug and enamored to catch it.
You moved swiftly, pressing your painted lips to his. An innocent kiss, and Rhys believed it. You smiled innocently up at him, suppressing laughter for a whole minute before breaking. You were weak, dropping your head against his chest with shaking shoulders. Rhysand's arm looped tighter, keeping you close. "What's so funny?” he asked through a confused laugh; yours is always contagious to him.
You glanced up at him, laughing harder. You couldn’t speak, and your poor husband was increasingly confused. It was on your third failed attempt when you gave up and pointed to the mirror hanging behind him. You watched his features morph from confusion to realization (and slight horror) before ending in final amusement.
Rhysand met your gaze again, squeezing you gently as your laughter finally began subsiding. "I see," he muttered with a grin. He returned the gesture, giving you a firm kiss before mimicking his earlier antics until your lipstick smudged all over his lips and your face. He vaguely heard your startled noise melting into a laugh, which only fueled the fire.
He withdrew eventually, taking you in for a third time, frazzled, a little dazed, and sharing lipstick stains with him. "There. Now we match.”
Eris
You could handle yourself. Eris knew you were more than capable; you'd been doing this before you met.
It was harder to convince a primal instinct older than time and centuries of history ingrained in Autumn Court soil and memory. His own history.
You were safe—just busy in your studio all day. He missed you, but he knew better than to interrupt you, especially when it was something you loved. So Eris kept himself distracted with the never-ending High Lord duties.
The candles had burned steadily, flames and parchment fluttering with the breeze from the cracked windows. His study smelled like it always did: spice, ink, and mahogany. He'd been in his study since you'd left early afternoon, waiting for your return—or simply any correspondence—despite knowing there was nothing threatening about a bookbinding studio. Nothing you couldn't handle, at least.
He was in the middle of reading a report from Rhysand when a little folded paper materialized on his desk. Unsuspecting except for the subtle fragrance of leather and your perfume hovering around it. The report was quickly neglected for it.
“I can feel you missing me from all the way over here. I'll be home soon.”
Eris’s thumb grazed over your handwriting. Neat, simple, and sweet.
"You say it like it's a crime," he scrawled on the back of your note with an angry, doodled version of himself despite his little smile. It was more for your amusement than his conviction. The note vanished just as it came. Your bemusement came down the bond like tinkling bells. His chest swelled with pride, wishing he could see your smile for himself and hear your laughter.
"Now you're putting words in my mouth." Your reply arrived right under his empty complaint. Additionally, you added a doodle of yourself beside his, two little stick figures holding hands.
He couldn't resist, not when you set it up for him so perfectly. "I could put something else in your mouth if you'd prefer." He scrawled, adding a wink at the end, and sent it on its way. He felt the precise moment you registered his words. Your emotions coming all at once from flustered to incredulity were like a beacon in his chest despite being halfway across town.
He laughed softly when your reply was purely doodles. A side-eye, another vomiting, and lastly, you wide-eyed and blushing. A crippling fondness and delight swallowed him whole, the dopey grin wide and lovesick in the privacy of his study. He imagined you making the same faces as your doodles as a separate note appeared.
"You're gross. I'll be home in an hour. I love you, stinky." Eris huffed a laugh at your strange term of endearment. Warm softness bloomed in his chest as he spotted your special signature, one you began doing early on in your relationship. A scribbled heart with your lipstick stain beside it. Your kiss imprint—he could recognize the mark, the ridges forming a unique print. the only one he’d care to memorize. It was like a secret message just for him, sending him vicarious kisses and your love.
His thumb grazed over the rouge, faintly warm from your kiss moments ago. A flick of his hand and a sleek wooden box spawned on his desk. Unsuspecting and boring but enchanted to hell and back. He set both your notes gently with the rest, a growing collection through the years. The most sacred pieces in any autumn court vault.
Caught in a meeting, you reminiscence on times in your life when you’ve had a little fun with each and every male in attendance, only to be surprised by one last proposition.
Pairings: Rhysand x f!reader, Cassian x f!reader, Azriel x f!reader & Eris x f!reader
Word Count: 14k
Warnings: smut, p in v (x4), fingering, shadow play, rough sex, oral(f), dirty talk
A/N: A huge thanks to @garricktavisfanclub for coming up with this idea and requesting I write it. Also, for helping with details and proofreading for me. This really challenged my writing skills and it was absolutely so much fun to write because reader definitely has some adventures. 😏 If you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know!
PRESENT DAY
Your eyes scanned the bleak, cold space.
Dark walls made of rock. Pillars fashioned after the same entangled beasts that decorated the throne room of the Hewn City and Rhysand’s throne, here in the Court of Nightmares, was all that you saw around you.
A domed ceiling rose high above the heads of the current inhabitants of the chamber. An enormous table made of black glass was where everyone currently sat.
It was elaborate, but that didn’t mean there was any warmth in it. Nothing like the Moonstone Palace that sat atop this mountain and certainly unlike anything in your home of Velaris.
You found your gaze blurring as the meeting you’d had the unfortunate luck of having to attend, droned on.
Your eyes flitted over all the individuals in attendance, most of them your family and friends.
Your High Lord, Rhysand. His mate and High Lady, Feyre Archeron, sat next to him.
Cassian, general and commander of the Night Court’s armies sat with his mate, Nesta Archeron, eldest sister of your High Lady.
Across from Cassian sat the other deadliest Illyrian—Azriel, spymaster of the Night Court, who also happened to be a shadowsinger, as well.
The two Illyrians sat on either side of their High Lord and Lady, always the flank of protection for them.
Next to Cassian sat the tiny framed, silver eyed Amren—Rhys’s second in command. Her chin length black hair swayed as she’d just turned from something that had been said, to peer back at Rhys.
Across from her, seated between you and Azriel was Mor. Her chin rested in her hand, her long, blonde hair falling forward onto the table, creating a strong contrast between the dark table and her locks.
Her brown eyes slid to yours and she looked as unamused and bored as you were sure your face displayed.
Meetings were typical for your court, but you couldn’t say you enjoyed them all. This wasn’t even anything dire such as an enemy threat or war planning, this was just mundane court stuff.
Which brought you to the individual that was lounged across the table from you, next to Amren. He hadn’t even flinched when offered the chair next to the tiny, intimidating Fae. Although once something other, after the war with Hybern—after a sacrifice had been made on her part—the only part of her powers that remained made her truly, only High Fae.
Even still, after three hundred years, even you still found yourself a little terrified of the female from time to time.
She, in turn, had only glanced, disinterested, at the male that had taken a seat next to her.
He, as well, didn’t happen to notice because the heir of Autumn’s eyes kept seeming to migrate towards you.
He sat, lounged back in his chair, legs crossed, bent arm resting on the arm of the chair. His head tilted slightly, though his face already rested on his folded hand, the backs of his fingers pressed against his pale cheek.
The smirk on Eris Vanserra’s face was dangerous.
He looked at you like he had a secret.
Which, in a way, he did.
But you kinda did, too.
Voices melded together but they faded away as you smirked to yourself, your gaze bouncing from each of the males in the room.
You couldn’t help but be amused that in your three hundred years of being a part of this family, you’d managed to be with each male in this room in some aspect.
Your eyes fell back to Eris’s, who for once was actually looking towards Rhys and not at you.
Including Eris Vanserra.
•••
CIRCA SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO
A loud, frustrated groan sounded from the study of the townhouse.
You’d been bypassing Rhys’s study, in route to somewhere else when you heard the exhale of frustration.
You peeked your head in, brows furrowed.
“Well, that can’t be good.”
“No, no it isn’t.”
The dark haired male was seated behind his desk, papers strewn across the top of it. His wings weren’t out currently, which made sense because you’d have thought that would have to be uncomfortable to sit with, especially when he didn’t have a reason to summon them.
“What’s stressing you?”
You walked further into the study, arms crossed, eyeing the papers scattered across the elaborate dark wooden desk top.
“Conflicting reports, complaints from the Court of Nightmares—more like from Keir, shockingly—other minuscule matters that have piled up.”
Rhys sighed, running a hand through his already messy, dark hair.
“I’ve been telling you for decades to hire an assistant,” you tsked.
“If I remember correctly, doll, I’ve offered you the position, quite a few times now.”
You hummed.
“That amongst other things.”
His smirk was wicked, violet eyes sparkling with equal mischief as he knew just what you were referring to.
“Besides, you know I’d suffer with a desk job. I need the action, need the excitement,” you huffed.
“Oh I could give you some action,” Rhys drawled, sitting back in his chair casually, "Excitement too, if you’re interested.”
The stars in his eyes sparked to life as his gaze fell along your body, unabashedly.
“I meant,” you emphasized, pulling the High Lord’s attention back to your face, “That I’m a much better fighter, even a much better diplomat than I am at anything involving paperwork.”
“Believe me, you think I don’t remember how you managed to mess up that treaty between Night and Summer a hundred years ago?”
“It was one mistake! How was I supposed to know sign here meant for the High Lords! Also,” you pointed an indignant finger at him, “I did warn you I had no idea what I was doing.”
His laugh was deep and rumbling, clearly amused by your exasperated outburst.
“That you did.”
“A hundred years ago and you still remind me of it daily,” you mumbled.
“Not daily. Maybe just yearly,” Rhys smirked.
You just cut him a look that said you knew better than that.
“Monthly,” he amended, the amused tilt of his lips still apparent.
Your eyes fell to the papers again, thoughts returning to what Rhys had said earlier.
“What kind of conflicting reports?”
His face fell more serious and you straightened a bit, knowing it had to be a big deal for his flirty, teasing ways to vanish like the dark wisps of his power sometimes did.
“There’s been info coming from Az’s spies that there’s whispers of Hybern wanting to infiltrate Prythian. Apparently people over in Hybern have heard rumors of the King sending over his general, Amarantha, to make deals with each of the courts. Nothing’s been confirmed and it may just be nonsense, but—”
“But it’s still something to be concerned about,” you concluded, to which he nodded.
You hadn’t yet been born when the War between the Fae and the Mortals had happened, but you’d heard stories of the frighteningly powerful female from your friends who had fought in the battles.
“There have been reports too that she’s already here,” Rhys sighed, rubbing his temples, “Apparently talking trades between Prythian and Hybern, but I’ve yet been able to confirm that. If she is, she’s keeping an extremely low profile, low enough even Az’s spies haven’t caught wind of her movements.”
You whistled lowly.
That was going to an extreme level of staying under the radar when even the Spymaster’s spies couldn’t get a read on the situation. If true, the female was taking a good amount of precaution if she could evade the best trained spies’ eyes.
Poor Rhys looked stressed beyond belief.
“You need a break.”
“I need a distraction,” he huffed.
“Sure. What can I do to help?”
You placed your hands on the desk, leaning on your arms as you kept peering at the array of papers, more out of nosiness than anything.
“I could think of one thing that might help me,” he smirked, violet eyes taking you in.
You peered upwards, seeing he’d moved forward in his chair, face now inches from yours. One dark brow tilted upwards—in challenge and invitation.
Rhysand had been subtly propositioning you for at least half a century, though technically it had started since you’d first joined his Inner Circle a few centuries ago. Yet, you’d never given in. You’d just tease him back and go along with your day.
Now, you were beginning to wonder if it was worth it to give in…maybe once.
“I could help with that, perhaps.”
Your grin was sly and you couldn’t help the amusement that flooded through you at his subtle surprise. As if he never expected you to ever take him up on his offer.
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
Your eyes took in his handsome face and you quirked a brow. You had to admit you’d been…curious.
“Well by all means.”
He leaned forward to kiss you, but you pushed him back by a shoulder.
“Let me.”
You walked slowly, but purposely around the side of his desk, his searing gaze following every movement. His eyes stopped when you came to a stand still right before him in his chair.
You said nothing as you climbed into his lap, a smirk on your face. He almost looked in a daze, as much as he looked smug.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
You gave him a look.
“No, I just thought I’d climb into your lap to read you your reports. Just shut up and let me distract you.”
“No complaints here,” he mumbled, lips capturing yours.
It wasn’t a wild kiss—not yet—and his lips were sure against yours, confident and commanding, but it was like Rhys held back, just to be sure.
Your hands moved up his chest and along his shoulders as you opened up for him, mouth and body alike. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, suddenly wondering why you’d denied yourself of this for so long.
Clearly, your body had been missing physical action too for it had a mind of its own as you shifted in his lap. A deep groan left him as his hands slid up your back. You rocked against him again, feeling him completely harden beneath you and you moaned lightly against his mouth.
His chuckle was wicked, sure of himself, as if he was saying without words he’d been telling you you were missing out. Clearly, you had because the moment you felt his cock stir underneath you, your own arousal spiked, the throbbing starting between your legs indicating how much you wanted this.
“You’ve been holding back on me,” you murmured as his lips fell to your jaw, sucking lightly.
“I have offered,” he pointed out, hands falling to the sides of your thighs.
“I’m not known to make good decisions,” you teased.
“You’re making a good one now,” he smirked, hands falling to your ass.
You let out a tiny squeal as he gripped your ass in both of his strong hands, dragging you forward again against his hardened length. You moaned, head falling back at the feel of him, even between layers of clothes.
“Yes, I really am,” you agreed.
He just let out another deep rumble of a laugh.
Your mouth found his own again, becoming more urgent the more you rubbed up against him. This had easily gone from zero to one hundred very quickly, but you couldn’t deny what your body wanted.
His hands were already at the waistband of your pants, pushing the waistband down just slightly past your hipbones, before he got distracted by your lips again.
You could feel your nipples pebbling under your shirt as he kissed you again and you wanted his hands on your breasts, instantly. You grabbed one of his hand and placed it over your breast, moaning at the feel of him squeezing it, even through your shirt. Your back arched into the touch and he laughed, amused.
“Oh you’re just as loud as I thought you’d be.”
“Stop being cocky and do something,” you huffed.
Heat had bloomed in you quickly and every press of his cock under your clothed core made you clench, made you want him deep inside you. You needed the relief.
Apparently the two of you had been playing a teasing game for nearly a century and it was now combusting in your faces.
You lifted up enough for him to pull the soft—and mercifully—stretchy material of your thin, gossamer pants down. Usually you used these to lounge around in and thankfully you’d had the hindsight to have them on now. No buttons or pesky Illyrian leathers to worry about to get out of to get to what you desired most in the moment.
At the same time, your mouth was hot on his, your hands busy undoing his own pants enough to pull his cock out. He couldn’t resist a chuckle when you had trouble. Your own pants stretched around your thighs, underwear included, as your bottom half became bare to him and you tried once again, fingers fumbling at his waistband.
“Need some help?” he rasped, voice sounding deeper, headier.
“Yes,” you breathed, so worked up already you would’ve begged.
With one arm around your waist to hold you tight, to keep you from falling backwards off his lap, he shifted enough and got his pants down to release his cock.
You didn’t even have time to peer down at it before he was lifting you again, situating you right against his tip. You moaned again, the feel of his cock pressing right against your entrance absolutely delightful. You wanted him all the way in, so you took charge and sank down before he made you wait any longer.
“Fuck,” came Rhys’s awed exhale.
Yeah, you’d definitely been missing out.
You rocked your hips forward, the fullness of him nothing short of pleasant. Your hand curled around his neck as you kissed him again, your hips lifting and retreating almost immediately, as you slid along his cock.
“I could use distractions like this all the time,” he murmured—surprisingly intimately—against your shoulder.
You chuckled breathily.
“Don’t get cocky, Rhys.”
“No need, you’ve already got enough right now.”
The mischievous smile returned as his hips shifted, cock hitting deeper and you whimpered, loving every moment of how he felt in you. Your hands settled on his shoulders as your hips rocked, your head falling back just slightly.
“Fuck, you’re deep,” you whimpered.
Rhys groaned in turn.
“I think someone is regretting turning me down for so long.”
You could practically hear the cockiness of his tone and your head lifted, eyes hazy with pleasure as your hand cupped the back of his head, bringing his face to yours as you kissed him again, tongues tangling.
His hands moved your hips on him faster and you felt yourself spiraling quickly.
You weren’t sure if it was the fact he was extremely tense and needed the release or if it’d just been far too long without a good fuck for you, but you found yourself dangerously close to your orgasm. It had approached quick—as if your body couldn’t handle how good he felt, cock plunging deeper into you with every movement of your bodies.
“Oh gods, I’m—” you groaned, cunt tightening around him.
“Me too,” he groaned.
Your hips moved faster, chasing that bubble of pleasure that had suddenly appeared and faster than you processed it, you felt your release tumbling through you.
You came quicker than you expected to, but didn’t regret it, your moans bouncing off the wall of his study. Rhys wasn’t far behind you, his own groan of pleasure filling your ears as he filled you.
You were panting, more than a little breathless and mind foggy as you finally stilled in his lap. You almost laughed at how awestruck he looked too, as he blinked up at you.
That had been some extremely nice stress relief.
You cleared your throat with a small grin as you climbed off of him, letting him situate himself. With no shame, you stood in front of him and pulled your underwear and pants back up in one motion.
After all you had just fucked him at his desk.
“Well,” Rhys cleared his throat, clearly trying to figure out what to say.
But you weren’t one for making things awkward. So, you’d fucked. It was no big deal to you. If it happened again, it happened. If it didn’t, that was fine too.
“Feel better?” you teased.
“I—uh yeah, I think I do.”
His golden brown cheeks were just a hint flushed, those violet eyes looking glazed. He was still blinking up at you and you had to laugh for real this time, feeling glad you’d made the decision to aid him.
“Glad I could help. You should get back to work though, High Lord,” you cooed, turning to leave.
You smirked and waved a hand behind you as you walked out, casually, as if nothing out of the ordinary had even happened. He called after you as you departed.
“Thanks for the stress relief, doll!”
•••
CIRCA FIFTY-FOUR YEARS AGO
The clashing of metal swords filled the training ring above the House of Wind.
You and Cassian were sparring hard, giving it everything the both of you had.
You’d been trained over the centuries pretty equally by Rhys, Cass and Az. You’d likely never be as good as the three Illyrians were, but by now, under their extended tutelage, you could spar well. You could definitely hold your own against them and that was a testament in itself.
Cassian had been brutal with you lately, spurring you on, challenging you.
Not just in training, but out of it too.
Flirtatious remarks had been tossed between the both of you, but for the most part you hadn’t thought much of it.
Until lately, that was.
Today, he was really pressing your buttons, heat sizzling between the both of you as you moved in sync as you sparred. Steps back, steps forward, lunge, fall back.
It almost made you wonder what other rhythms the Illyrian was good at.
You tried not to focus too much on that. Ever since you’d fucked Rhys that one time, you’d declared you wouldn’t do anything of the matter with any of the other males in the circle, again.
But, things had resumed as normal with Rhys. Nothing ever became weird. It was a nice time that happened once and only once and apparently the curiosity and craving had been satiated for both of you.
You two were still good friends despite the moment of shared passion the two of you had had over twenty years prior.
His blade clanged against yours, the shock reverberating up your arm and you swore, wincing.
“Looking a little sloppy out here,” Cassian teased.
“You’re one to talk. You missed that block earlier and I almost poked my sword into your side,” you retorted.
“Oh, I let you do that.”
“Likely story, Cass.”
You retreated, breathing heavily as the sun beat down on you.
“Giving up so easily, sunshine?”
You tossed him a savage grin.
“Not a chance.”
You lunged again and he blocked your attempted strike well.
Your carelessness got the better of you when you took a moment to eye his shirtless, muscled form. Drops of sweat rivuleted down his golden brown torso.
Cassian took the opportunity to hit your wrist, causing your sword to fall from your grasp.
“Now what have I told you about getting distracted? Though the way you were eyeing me was almost worth it.”
You just threw an exasperated look at him.
“You’re imagining things, Cass. You only wish.”
“Princess, I didn’t have to imagine, I saw.”
You hadn’t paid much attention to the flirtatious comments up until lately because that was just Cass. He always came with some sort of flirty remark and a dangerous smirk in accompaniment.
But, today, you felt the spark of heat forming between the two of you and it wasn’t just from the sun beating down on the two of you. Nor the heat you generated from sparring.
You bent down to retrieve your sword and you didn’t miss the feeling of his eyes on your body. You were in old Illyrian leathers that were just a shade too snug on you.
Clearly it worked to your benefit now.
You straightened again, sword at the ready.
“You scared to fight a female in fear I might beat your ass?” you taunted.
“Oh I’ll show you just how scared I am.”
He lunged forward and you barely had time to get your sword up to block his strike.
Cassian was relentless and you managed to keep up. With careful steps, calculated maneuvers, you threw everything back at him that he threw at you.
“I’m almost impressed,” he mumbled.
“Aw I’m almost touched,” you snarked back.
He barked a laugh, giving you the opening you needed.
Just then, you managed to fake him out, distract him with a tap to the side that he tried to block and just a moment ahead of him, you whipped your sword out, knocking his own from his hand. It was a matter of milliseconds—and crafty handiwork of your sword—that had you managing to twist your wrist just right to knock the back of his legs, sweeping them right out from under him.
Unfortunately, you’d put too much momentum into the movement, sending your weight too far forward with that last maneuver. You knocked your own sword from your hand and you went down simultaneously with the male on the training mat, with a heavy oomph.
You landed sprawled across the broad Illyrian, a delighted grin on Cassian’s face at the way the two of you had ended up, despite you just having knocked him off his feet.
“Looks like you’re losing your touch, General,” you purposely taunted him.
His hazel eyes narrowed up at you and before you even processed it was happening, he’d flipped you until you were underneath him on the mat.
His broad frame dwarfed yours as he hovered over you, pressing much closer to you than you’d been while sparring, moments before. His wings spread wide behind him, ironically shading you from the bright sun.
Simply because it did nothing to quell the increasing heat you felt.
“Do you enjoy teasing me?”
His voice was low, deadly.
“I could ask you the same thing,” you breathed, peering defiantly up at him.
You were suddenly overheated, not from the earlier exertion or the warm temperature, but from the intensely smug gaze of the Illyrian above you. Your heart pounded, blood heating as he stared down at you, not showing any indication of moving.
You shifted, fully prepared to move to get up, but at the same time, Cassian moved too, one muscled thigh shifting between your legs, pressing just right.
You didn’t miss the spark of feral delight in him at your unexpected gasped moan.
Your arousal instantly spiked, chest heaving with your labored breath.
Just the smallest brush seemed to light a fire to the tension that had been building between you two for quite some time now. Being the cocky asshole he was, his thigh pressed a little closer and your lashes fluttered.
You desperately tried not to grind your center against said thigh, but the temptation was great.
When your eyes opened again, you saw the heat blazing in his own. You opened your mouth to speak, but his mouth came careening down against yours.
The kiss was heated, like he’d been holding back the desire to press his mouth to yours for far too long.
You immediately reached up, hand gliding around his neck. Your fingers curled around the leather strap he’d used to tie his hair back earlier and pulled it free. He groaned against your mouth, head slanting as his hair fell into his face, just barely brushing your jaw as your lips moved with his.
Your hands dropped down to the sun warmed skin of his back as his tongue met yours, your mouth opening in invitation. His growl thrilled you as your hips—having a mind of their own—canted to rub against his thigh.
Even through the material of your Illyrian leathers, the friction was wonderful. But you wanted more. You wanted his touch between your legs—his cock too, if you were honest.
Another deep growl rumbled from him as you arched with a pleased moan when his hand came roughly over one breast, gripping and massaging it in his large palm.
The leathery material didn’t help as it rubbed against your hardened nipples, making you hotter. Suddenly, you desired being completely naked underneath him.
“Off,” you groaned, hands already at the waistband of his pants.
He clearly had the same train of thought as he loosened the ties of your own pants.
Clearly, he was just as worked up and overwhelmed with desire as you were because he paused his work at your waistband, peeling the leather top up and over your head. You wrangled with it, eager to have it off and you breathed a sigh of relief when it finally left your body.
You didn’t even care that this was happening on a training mat in the middle of the training ring.
No one else was at the House anyways.
You felt the slight breeze of the warm, summer air cooling the sweat on your skin from your earlier sparring. Although from the look in Cassian’s eyes, he’d probably damn near lick the sweat off your skin if given the opportunity.
You felt similarly.
Hazel eyes took you in hungrily.
“Cauldron, if this is the sight that greets me, I can’t wait until the other half is bare,” he rumbled.
“I guarantee it’s an even better sight,” you grinned devilishly.
The grin melted into a moan at his hands on your bare breasts, the rough skin the perfect friction against the heavy, aching mounds. His mouth sucked on your jaw as his touch dropped between your legs, fingers rubbing a rough circle just over your clit. Even through your leathers, you luxuriated in his touch.
“Fuck,” you whimpered, hips arching into the rough touch.
He didn’t stay there long, dexterous fingers unlacing your pants, lips sucking a harsh bruise on your neck. The rest of your clothes came off in one, smooth movement, Cassian clearly impatient.
“I am not the only one getting naked here,” you grumbled, fingers returning to pushing his pants off.
“Never said you would be, princess,” Cass laughed throatily, his arousal thickening his voice.
With a few awkward maneuvers, he’d kicked his pants off his ankles—after pulling them down far enough—the item skittering behind the two of you, forgotten.
You didn’t even get a chance to sneak a peek at his cock before Cassian had slid his hands underneath the back of your thighs, hauling your legs up over his broad shoulders. It was a bit of a stretch for your muscles, but nothing you couldn’t handle, considering you’d been trained by the best Illyrians to have the muscle tone you already possessed. You’d done far more difficult stretches warming up for training, anyways.
You whimpered at the feel of his cock brushing against your slick core.
He was thick, you could feel that and your stomach swooped with anticipation, knowing how good it would feel to have him stretch you, have him thrusting deep.
He could probably feel how turned on you were, the arousal having pooled between your legs almost instantly from what little pawing at one another the two of you had done.
Then he was pushing in and you were reacting immediately at the thick press of him.
“Cauldron,” you moaned, overwhelmed at his cock now fully inside of you.
He was definitely big, that much you could feel. He had yet to move and you wriggled, anxious for him to do something. You were not about to get this far just to have him tease you.
“If you handled your cock as well as you do your sword, one would assume you’d be better at this.”
Another taunt from you and he took the bait, pulling out of you far enough to thrust back in just as roughly. You keened, reacting accordingly to his expectations, apparently.
Cassian didn’t let up from there.
It was quick and messy, rough and hot and you loved every minute of it.
“About time you shut that mouth,” he growled, hips snapping harder.
“You just hate I have a smarter mouth than you,” you tossed back, between gasps of breath.
His cock was hitting perfectly to make you gasp for breath repeatedly, his grip so tight on your hips you were positive you’d have bruises later. With each thrust, he pulled your hips toward him so he could hit harder, deeper.
“But even my cock won’t shut you up, you’re louder than ever,” Cassian smirked, though it came out in staccato grunts as he pounded into you.
You half glared at him, rocking your hips as best as you could at the steep angle.
“Oh now you’re speechless? Guess my cock is doing a good job after all.”
You couldn’t form words, only moans, which most definitely fed his ego.
You heard the rustle of his wings behind him as he thrust into you relentlessly. His grunts and groans keep shooting straight to your cunt, which was taking quite the beating—not that you were complaining in the slightest.
You felt yourself spiraling closer and closer, ready to fall over the edge, with each deep hit of his cock.
One of his hands left your leg and he pressed it against your lower abdomen. It was an almost instantaneous spike in stimulation.
You were already teetering on the edge. With one last thrust—the pressure aiding him in hitting all the perfect spots—it had you clenching around him as your orgasm barreled through you. You cried out, fingers digging into the mat for he was too far away for you to reach.
With a few more grunts and thrusts he was coming too, wings snapping open to their full width—something you witnessed through blurry vision and cracked eyes. The sticky trickle of his release met your thighs moments afterwards.
His chest rose and fell rapidly as he pulled out smoothly leaving the drip of his spend along your thighs. He cursed lowly, pushing his hair back with one hand.
Your eyes had fallen shut in recovery, not even caring you were still naked and exposed, skin sticky against the mat as you felt him stand. He’d simply ruined you and you didn’t even care if he teased you senselessly for it later.
Your head was still spinning, body buzzing when you felt his foot nudge your calf. You opened your eyes to see Cass standing tall above you, pants already back on.
His breathing was still as ragged as yours and he revealed your gathered clothes in his grasp. He dropped them on your torso with a playful grin.
“Don’t expect me to take it easy on you during training tomorrow. Guess I’ll just have to leave you sore for two reasons.”
You huffed a laugh, flipping him off.
That, for sure, had been one memorable training session. One that you wouldn’t forget for quite some time.
•••
CIRCA FIFTY-ONE YEARS AGO
Music blared in your ears while alcohol buzzed in your veins.
You weren’t exactly drunk, but a few drinks had left you delightfully buzzed—perks of being High Fae, a higher tolerance to alcohol.
Rita’s was packed tonight.
It had been Mor’s idea to drag the entire family out for a night of fun—well, all but Amren who’d decided she’d rather hole up in her apartment. Rita’s wasn’t exactly her choice of entertainment anyway.
You had to give it to Mor. After a stressful few weeks dealing with other courts, all of you had needed some drinks and dancing. Even if Cassian was just there for the drinks and Rhys was just there to flirt. Mor, on the other hand, was a live wire, buzzing from table to table, chatting with friends she’d either known a long time or friends she’d made just that night.
The female never met a stranger.
You’d downed your first drink, hips swaying to the upbeat music that filled the space. You’d yet to actually join on the dance floor, content to dance at the bar or in your seat.
It had surprised no one more than you when one night a decade or so ago, Mor had managed to pull Azriel to the dance floor and gotten him to dance. It turned out, he enjoyed the music and dancing more than he ever realized. It had only taken centuries to get him out of the shadows and onto the dance floor, but better late than never.
You chuckled to yourself seeing the shadowsinger out there, completely lost to the music. You figured even the spymaster had to let loose sometime, too.
You took another sip of your drink and almost choked on it when his head lifted and gaze caught on yours. That wasn’t what had you nearly swallowing your drink the wrong way though. What had was the way he crooked his finger at you with a sly smile.
“Ohhh no,” you muttered, shaking your head
You knew he wouldn’t hear you from the distance between you or over the music and the noise of the crowd, but you emphatically shook your head again.
Which was another reason why you hadn’t left your spot. The dance floor was too crowded and you barely danced, at that. You briefly wondered how Azriel managed to find the space to dance, even with his wings tucked in.
Az wasn’t giving up though, that grin spreading wider on his face. His finger crooked once more and you shook your head more prominently, letting him know that you had no intentions of dancing tonight.
There was absolutely no way he was getting you to dance. No way in hell.
You glanced over again and bit back a groan—Az was coming over. Before you knew it, he was standing in front of you.
He towered over you, all broad and tall warrior, wings tucked in for the moment. The golden lights of Rita’s seemed to make his golden brown skin appear even deeper, his hazel eyes glowing with mischief before he even spoke.
“Since when have you turned into me, sulking in the shadows?”
His deep voice was raised to be heard over the noise of the dance hall.
“I am not sulking!” you shouted back.
An amused, dark brow lifted.
“Come on, I’ve seen you dancing all night in the corner. You gonna come join me or do I have to pick you up and carry you?”
His teasing smirk made you grin. Azriel may have seemed quiet and sullen to most, but you definitely saw a more playful side to him sometimes—especially with the dry sense of humor he wielded as well as an Illyrian blade.
“Even Cass is dancing,” Az argued.
You started, looking over to where he’d motioned to the other Illyrian on the dance floor and sure enough, there was Cassian, dancing with a delighted Mor.
Damn, it said a lot when even Cassian beat you to the dance floor.
Still, you remained firm.
“I’m perfectly fine here,” you argued, a smile still tilting your lips as you crossed your arms, drink still in hand, “Besides, I’ve got nowhere to sit my drink.”
To your surprise, Azriel grabbed the drink out of your hand, downed the rest of what was left and set it on the bar behind you.
“Come on.”
He wasn’t requesting or ordering, but his tone left no room for further discussion—especially as he grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor.
You were at a loss, feeling much too shy—something that was rare to you. But compared to the shadowsinger’s enthusiasm, you felt like your dancing paled in comparison.
He gave you an amused look, as if asking if you were just going to stand there like a statue the whole time. You sighed and shifted your hips gently, like you had been earlier. You still wished you had a drink to hold on to just so you had something to do with your hands.
Az’s body moved fluidly, not that it should surprise you. He knew how to move just as fluidly when fighting, so it shouldn’t come as a shock that it was just as easy for him while dancing. Maybe it had to do with the music just enveloping you, getting lost in it.
You’d seen Mor do it a million times.
You relaxed a bit, letting the beat of the music wrap around you, envelop you. You laughed at his raised eyebrows as you started freely dancing.
Your hips swayed and you lifted your arms, more carefree as you threw your head back, letting the music take complete control of you. You may not be as effortless as Mor or as enthusiastic as Az, but you were willing to truly let go, just to have some fun tonight.
You were surprised at yourself, but you had to admit it was more fun than you initially expected.
When you lifted your head, the grin still on your face, you were a bit taken back at Az’s intense gaze. He still was smiling, but it was smaller, more secretive as his all knowing, hazel eyes took you in.
He grabbed one of your hands, spinning you and you giggled breathlessly. After you’d landed back in front of him, you turned again, facing away from him, completely losing yourself. You might’ve looked like a fool, but you felt so carefree in the moment that you couldn’t find it in yourself to dwell on your appearance to others.
Looking over your shoulder, you gave Az a wild grin that he returned, seemingly pleased you were having such a good time.
Just then, someone in the crowd in front of you bumped into you, sending you careening backwards. You fell into the hard muscled chest just at the same time a strong arm and a wing came around you to steady you. You were momentarily unsure how he managed to find the room to extend it and curl it around you, anyways.
Unfortunately, as you’d lost your balance, your hand naturally shot out in search of something to steady you, just at the same moment his wing extended. Your hand went brushing down his wing accidentally and you didn’t miss the way he seemed to simultaneously shiver and tense at the same time.
Interesting.
“Sorry!” you shouted over your shoulder.
He just inclined his ahead in acceptance, but you couldn’t help but think his expression had shifted minutely.
You felt his hands on your waist as you were forced to dance closer to him due to the throng of people. You felt his chest press against your back as his hands splayed against your hips.
You felt his breath against your neck, the sensual move of your hips against his body suddenly seeming almost too intimate. Yet neither of you stopped.
“Didn’t know you could let loose like this,” came the deep timbre of his voice in your ear.
You shivered and you felt the curve of his mouth against your ear.
Sure, you had a few drinks in your system, but you suddenly felt more alert than you had ten minutes ago. Also, the buzz you were feeling was no longer coming from the drinks.
It was definitely coming from the male that was practically rubbing up against you as the two of you danced in such close proximity. Especially one whose hands were beginning to wander.
One of his hands slid up to your stomach, as if he could pull you closer to him. You tilted your head to look back at him and his eyes dipped to yours. You bit your lip and turned back around fighting a smirk.
You weren’t sure what was happening, but you weren’t exactly complaining.
“Tonight’s not the only time I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you, you know.”
His deep voice whispered in your ear again, low enough that you could hear him perfectly fine with your keen Fae hearing.
But, what he’d just said sank in and you realized he was right.
You’d felt the shadowsinger’s eyes on you for months now, but hadn’t really thought anything of it until lately. Those hazel eyes saw it all, could read things off others that many couldn’t.
You’d often wondered what he was thinking the numerous times you’d caught his eyes following you. But once you’d noticed, you couldn’t stop the chills you’d get from his attention. Or the curious excitement having his attention made you feel.
You tossed a knowing look, once again, over your shoulder as if to tell Azriel you’d known that.
You decided to press your luck even more.
Your body still moved with the music, his as well. You moved purposely closer, ass intentionally brushing a little too close against his groin.
You didn’t miss the way his fingers on your hip seemed to tighten just the slightest. You smirked to yourself, not done yet.
You tilted your head just a tiny bit, as if offering up your neck. Now whatever he wanted to do with it was up to him.
Your breath caught when you felt warm lips brush against the side of your neck, fighting a shiver. When you didn’t flinch or move away, he did it again, with more confidence, lips pressing a little firmer, a little longer. To encourage him, your head tilted more.
Your entire body nearly melted when Az’s lips brushed a certain spot and you sighed, reaching behind you to grab the back of his neck. You didn’t know if he heard you, but you had no doubt he felt your reaction.
The hand on your stomach pressed you closer to him and it was then you felt the evidence of his own arousal against your backside. Your teeth sank into your lip, your own desire skyrocketing, the dull throb that’d begun between your legs a bit ago, now gaining in strength.
“Do you have any idea,” he breathed next to your ear, breath hot against it, voice sounding a little worse for wear.
“What you do to me?”
Goosebumps broke out over your skin, despite the room being anything but chilly.
You tilted your head back to look at him, motioning for him to come closer so he could hear you better.
His head lowered to you and you reached up, lips just barely brushing his ear as you spoke.
“So what are you gonna do about it, shadowsinger?”
When you pulled back, those hazel eyes were blazing with desire and need.
His hands left your body, one large hand grabbing your forearm and sliding down until he grabbed your hand in his, leading you off the dance floor and toward the door.
While you’d once thought you’d sworn off any of the other males in your circle—especially after the instance with Cassian—you’d secretly thought if the opportunity ever presented itself with Azriel, you’d definitely take it.
The aftermath of your dalliance with Cassian had gone just the same as the one with Rhys had. It was fun, but it had been another one time thing only. Cassian, clearly only wanting a good fuck, was clearly satiated with one time, as were you.
Once again, it hadn’t affected your friendship with the General. Though he’d teased you about it from time to time, nothing ever became weird about it.
But now that an opportunity had seemed to arise, you’d be a complete fool not to take advantage of the hints Az was much too clearly dropping.
You followed him out of the crowd of Rita’s and outdoors, teeth sunk into your bottom lip as he led you to the side of the building, down an alleyway. The night air was cool without being too chilly, but you were sure to be kept warm enough by the heat he was stoking in you.
You’d already started throbbing, arousal starting to pool in your underwear, the moment Az’s hands had started to wander. It’d only gotten worse the moment you two’s teasing had continued—especially so when his lips had fallen to your neck.
You were not prepared for the moment Az’s lips careened with yours, kissing you like he’d been holding back all night.
If this was what you got for a night of teasing, it was well worth it.
You were already moaning before your back hit the rock wall. Of course, being the male he was, one large hand cupped the back of your head to keep you from hitting it against the hard rock behind you. His shadows deepened around the two of you, blocking the view from any passerby’s, despite you being off to the side of the building, more so in the dark.
His lips moved expertly with yours, tongue brushing against yours causing him to groan. You weren’t even ashamed for the way your hands roamed his powerful body, being able to feel all the hard earned muscle even through his clothes. He groaned into your mouth when your hands brushed under his shirt and along the chiseled plains of his abdomen.
His hands, in turn, were busy at the fabric of the dress Mor had picked out for you for tonight, pushing it up around your hips.
Azriel’s lips migrated to your neck, kissing and sucking on it with more fervor than he had earlier, inside. Hips pressed against yours and again you felt the hard press of his cock straining behind his pants as he kissed you harder. This time though, it was pressed against your clothed, heated core and you groaned at the sensation. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair, desperately trying to grind yourself against him.
You gasped when he lifted your leg to his waist, letting your weight lean against the wall. He pressed that bulge that hid an impressive gift—if rumors were true—against you.
“Ah, fuck,” you moaned.
He hummed in approval.
“There she is. You’re a sweet girl aren’t you?”
He nipped at your jaw and you whimpered. Hell, you’d be just about anything for him right now if he kept pressing against you like that.
He retreated enough to make you whine, wanting the friction of him through the thin material of your underwear again. You were half tempted to pull the top half of your dress down to join the rest of the fabric bunched at your waist. You wanted his hands to have as much access to you as possible.
Your inhale was sharp when you felt callused fingers brush over the thin fabric. You immediately bucked into his touch, needing more.
“You been this wet for me long, sweet girl?”
Gods, that nickname alone could be your undoing.
“Since your lips touched my neck back in there,” you breathed, honestly.
His chuckle was dark, the pad of one finger tracing a line up through the material before landing on your clit, pressing gently. You hissed, hips tilting.
You were throbbing and desperate for his touch.
But he didn’t give it to you.
He gave you better.
Fingers pulled your underwear to the side and two plunged into you immediately. Your gasped moan was all you could do to respond.
Firstly, at the sudden intrusion of not one but two fingers. Secondly, at the feel of having his fingers inside you.
“Fuck, if you’re this tight, I can’t wait to see what you’ll feel like around my cock,” he groaned.
His lips hovered over yours, as if he was debating kissing you again as his fingers slid in and out of you. He felt you clench around the digits in reaction to his words.
You’d suspected he had to have a dirty side no one could imagine, but getting an actual taste of it was making your head spin. It was so incredibly hot.
You were starting to think you’d saved the best for last.
“If you expect me to have a witty comeback, you’re gonna be sorely disappointed,” you sighed, hips tilting again, too focused on the intoxicating sensation of his touch.
He laughed once again, definitely one smug bat.
“I’d rather hear your sweet moans anyway.”
Cauldron, he didn’t play fair.
His fingers twisted just right within you, curling so they hit deep. Your eyes might’ve been crossing in reaction. He bent down to kiss you again, catching every single one of your moans as fingers rubbed your inner walls.
It was fucking fantastic the way he was so good with his hands.
Even balanced on one leg, your hips tried to grind against his hand as much as possible. Needing more, wanting him to make you come.
It was already insanely good, but the moment he added his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles, you were a goner. You were so lost to the sensation you had no recollection of your hand moving upwards as you gripped and massaged your breast through the material of your dress, pinching the nipple. His eyes fell to the movement and he growled.
“Gonna fuck you good, sweet girl. Promise I’ll make you fall apart on my cock.”
That was all it took for you to explode, the building pressure in your core spreading throughout your entire body as your orgasm rocked you. Your moans were swallowed by his mouth as his fingers wrung every last tremor from your body.
You were breathless and panting from the intensity of it when he pulled his fingers from your now, even more soaked, cunt.
In what dim light there was, you saw Azriel’s smug grin as his fingers left his mouth.
“Did you think I was done with you yet?”
“I sure hope not,” you gasped, "You've been holding out on me.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured against your ear.
He grabbed your other leg and hefted you up, wrapping them around his waist, pressing you against the wall. You didn’t even care that the hard, cold rock pressed hard against your back. You could scratch it up completely for all you cared.
You felt him shift, realizing he was undoing his pants and you had to bite back a groan, the anticipation for him to be inside you at a fever pitch.
Your hands had just slid across his broad shoulders when your arms were yanked up and you gasped, eyes wide as you realized what Azriel had done.
Flush against the wall, your wrists had been bound by Azriel’s shadows—to the point you couldn’t even move them from the wall.
“Thought I’d make this a little more exciting,” he smirked.
Suddenly, you felt just a tad apprehensive, worried you might not actually survive him.
They always did say beware of the quiet ones…clearly whoever they were, were right.
A low snarl came deep from his chest as the thick head of his cock breached your entrance. You hadn’t seen it, but by feel alone, you could tell all the allegations were true.
He took a moment, not pushing too much too fast as he inched forward into you—which was a blessing because it took you the entirety of that moment to even process how good he felt.
“Mother above,” you moaned, head falling back.
The moment he was fully seated, your wrists started tugging on your restraints. You wanted to touch him, bury your fingers in his hair.
“Not yet,” he teased, hips retreated before slamming back into yours.
Your answering moan was clearly music to his ears because he did it again.
And again.
Soon, a rhythm formed and your hips circled with every thrust, trying to do something to preoccupy your mind from the fact you couldn’t claw at him like you desperately wanted to.
“Az,” you whimpered as he thrust harder, angling your hips so he could reach deeper.
“Yeah, sweet girl? You already losing your mind on my cock?”
You groaned at his words as his face fell to your shoulder. His hips pistoned into yours, clearly just undone by you as you were him.
He pulled his face back suddenly, one hand reaching up and pulling the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him and the night air. Your gasped moan was more than a little choked when his mouth came down, taking a nipple in his mouth as he continued his rhythmic thrusts into you.
“Fuck, fuck,” you were gasping, writhing against every part of you he was touching.
With every rough drag of his cock against your walls, every time he hit just right—making you involuntarily clench around him—you found yourself closer to your second orgasm of the night.
“Azriel, please,” you begged, so desperate his full name came out.
“Please what?” he prompted, head raising from your breast.
He’d licked and sucked it so well as he drove into you, heightening your pleasure tenfold. Now, his teeth scraped against your pulse point before he spoke again.
“Use your words, sweet girl.”
“Wanna touch you,” you ground out.
Your mind was muddied and dazed, focused on only the feel of his cock so amazingly perfect within you. Nothing else mattered in that moment—just the mind blowing pleasure he was giving you.
The shadow bonds around your wrists vanished and your hands came down, automatically diving into his hair as you pulled him closer, kissing him again. His groan vibrated against your lips as he thrust harder. He broke away quickly, though.
“Gods, you’re even better than I imagined,” he uttered.
You had to heave a half laugh at that.
“Can say the same about you.”
The six words were about all you could manage to get out.
One of your hands gripped the bicep that was nearest to you, one of his hands now pressed against the wall. Every thrust rocked the both of you as you both found yourselves closer to climax.
You could feel the sharp scrape of rock against your bare upper back, but it seemed less important in the moment. All you could focus on was the fact you were circling your orgasm, so much closer then even seconds ago.
“Az, fuck, I’m—fuck!”
You might’ve been more embarrassed that you couldn’t even get your entire sentence out if you hadn’t lost all good sense. Your second orgasm hit you quick, fast and powerfully.
He groaned, feeling your inner walls clench around his cock as he kept thrusting, chasing his own release. Despite being blissed out amidst your own orgasm, a half thought from earlier formed in your head.
One arm stretched over his shoulder, reaching out for your desired destination.
You wanted him to feel as incredible as you did.
Your fingertip traced down the cool leathery texture of his wing.
Azriel shuddered—a full body shudder—a full blown loud groan falling from his lips as he came, hard, fingertips gripping your skin as his own orgasm wracked his body. Another, low groan came from deep in his throat, accompanying the release you felt spurting into you as he kept moving, until he had nothing left.
When he finally stilled, you loosened your death grip on his bicep with a shaky apology, a dazed smile on your face. He looked equally as wrecked.
“After that? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Azriel chuckled, continuing, “I don’t know who taught you the wing trick, but Mother help me, I’m glad they did.”
You couldn’t help the smug grin that crossed your face.
He pulled out gently, setting you down on the ground again. He even helped you fix your clothing until you were once again presentable.
You couldn’t help the tiny giggle that left your lips as he fixed himself, too.
“What?”
Az cocked his head, clearly curious. His wings rustled behind him as he stretched them slightly, the shadows like a rolling fog along his shoulders. You eyed them, now knowing more clearly what they were truly capable of.
You just smiled up at the shadowsinger.
“Next time we come to Rita’s, maybe I should pull you out on the dance floor. Because clearly we know how to have fun.”
His hazel eyes twinkled, even in the dark alley.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
•••
CIRCA ONE YEAR AGO
The Court of Nightmares was always dull and dreary.
Which is why you’d always dreaded trips to it. Especially meetings.
The Hewn City was exactly where you found yourself currently, along with the rest of the Inner Circle.
You’d figured it was going to be some inane assembly with Keir, in which he did nothing but complain for hours on end. But, you were pleasantly surprised when he wasn’t even in attendance.
Instead, who walked in was none other than the future High Lord of Autumn himself, Eris Vanserra.
You’d immediately scolded yourself at the way you’d straightened from your previous slouched posture, chastising yourself mentally for preening for the male.
He was dressed immaculately, as per usual, his red hair falling in a long curtain over his finally tailored jacket.
Maybe this meeting wouldn’t be so boring after all.
You found yourself struggling to concentrate on the subject matter when you continuously felt searing eyes on you. You turned, once, calculating, shy eyes meeting his own.
But, you weren’t that shy, as your lashes lowered, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, showing just enough interest.
Delight shone in those amber eyes before you’d turned back to what Az and Rhys were discussing.
It continued that way the entire time.
Flirty glances, eyes meeting, direct interest being portrayed from both you and Eris.
You’d thought your wild days were over. You’d been with each of your three friends in one manner or another and had sworn off any more senseless dalliances.
While you didn’t regret it and had enjoyed each time, you now found it pointless. Especially when you only saw the other three males as just friends now and they, you.
Besides, Rhys was mated to Feyre now and your High Lady was as lovely as she was tough.
What you’d shared with each of the three males was ancient history now.
But the one that was staring at you…
Eris was eyeing you like you were his last meal and you felt a familiar desire building within you. Stronger than you ever had.
Curiosity was going to get the best of you and if it killed you, then so be it.
You might just be ready to burn.
You hadn’t missed the way those amber eyes had traveled your body when he thought you hadn’t noticed. Especially when you’d stood to reach for a file Az had been holding out for you.
You’d purposely turned your gaze right to Eris, catching him in the act.
You hadn’t been shocked to see he hadn’t balked at being caught. His eyes hadn’t cut away, nor did he look ashamed. His stare just shot to your face, a small smile growing on his mouth and you couldn’t control the smirk that grew on yours.
It would be a challenge to see who caught who.
You’d known of the princeling for some time, of course. It was hard not to know who the heir of Autumn, the eldest son of the High Lord of Autumn, was. Especially with his demanding and cocky presence.
But until the war with Hybern a year ago, Eris Vanserra hadn’t stepped foot into the Night Court for five centuries. Even a year ago when he became a tentative ally to the court, you weren’t in close proximity to the heir, always seeming to be elsewhere for most of the occasions he was with Rhys and Feyre.
Now, more than a year after the war, Eris was still an ally to the Night Court. Not only was he working behind his father’s back for his own reasons, but also in regards to one of the mortal queens, Briallyn—who was terrorizing you, your family and threatening all of Prythian’s tentative safety. Not to mention Beron Vanserra had foolishly allied with the vengeful queen.
So, Eris had tended to be around a bit more.
Which was when you’d taken a notice to him.
It hadn’t started out as anything serious, just the casual observation that yes, he was handsome, he did have a beautiful face. But typically, his attitude ruined it for you.
Somehow, it had drawn you in, too, as you started noticing the flickers of attraction taking root.
But until today, nothing had come of it. It wasn’t until he seemed equally as interested in you as you were him that you’d started wondering if it was worth breaking your close proximity dalliances rule you’d set for yourself after Azriel.
After all, it had been fifty years.
Perhaps it was long overdue.
The way you had to cross and uncross your legs multiple times during the meeting just to control your need to squirm was likely the biggest indicator it’d been too long. You were growing a tad desperate trying to quell the deep ache that you hadn’t felt for quite a while, as you worked to conceal the fact your thighs were pressing together under his gaze.
The future High Lord hadn’t even touched you or spoke a word to you, yet you were still reacting from it.
The sharp gleam in his eyes told you that even if he couldn’t technically see the way your legs were pressing together underneath the table, he seemed to sense it anyway, in your endless shifting.
When the meeting finally concluded—Rhys dismissing everyone—you stood, gathering your papers and notes.
You might’ve taken just an extra moment longer than necessary, to make sure they were in the correct order, stacked perfectly. You tapped the bottom edge of the papers against the table, making sure they all fell into the same straight pattern, neatly in line and organized.
Around you, everyone else filed out. A few mumbles of getting a drink at Rita’s back home or going to get food surrounded you as the attendees exited the council chamber.
Only one individual hadn’t left yet.
You straightened again, the pile of papers in your arms, only to find the heir of Autumn still seated in his chair. He was watching you intently.
“I thought you’d be gone by now,” you commented, flippantly.
“Maybe something is keeping me from leaving.”
His arms were crossed, his strong frame leaning back casually in the chair.
You lifted an eyebrow, a coquettish grin gracing your face.
“Oh?”
He finally stood, broad and tall. Though only a head taller than you, he felt like he still towered over you, despite being across the wide table. His steps were slow and measured as he walked around the lengthy table towards you.
Your eyes never left him as he approached, even when you sat the stack of papers back down on the table. He was studying you closely, his hands in the pockets of his tailored pants, clearly custom made for his fine build.
You weren’t sure what you expected to come out of Eris’s mouth, but it surely wasn’t what he said next.
“Rumor has it, you’ve had a taste of each of the three Illyrians.”
Your brows raised, surprised. You weren’t exactly sure how he managed to know that. It wasn’t exactly a secret amongst your friends and they knew you’d had trysts with each male. Even your High Lady and her sisters knew of the said encounters with the three Illyrians.
After all, you thought it was only fair you be honest with Feyre considering Rhys was her mate. You’d thought it was better to be upfront about it early on instead of letting her find out like it was a shameful secret. It might’ve made for a bit of an awkward conversation at first, but you’d made sure to stress greatly that there were no feelings, no history there between you and your High Lord. Regardless of the past, you were thrilled Rhys had found his mate and were happy for the couple.
For anyone else, any other group, it would be weird, messy or complicated. But it never seemed to be. You shared centuries of history with your found family to the point each lone instance you’d bedded all three Illyrians seemed to be nothing but a blip in history now.
“And if I have?” you asked coyly, tilting your head as he finally stopped in front of you.
“Sweetheart, I’m wondering if I should be offended that you’ve sampled them but never me.”
“I haven’t always known you.”
“You have for long enough,” he retorted.
His hand reached out, fingers tracing your jaw before tilting your chin up.
Your heart rate sped up, anticipation and desire mixing into a deadly concoction.
His eyes scanned your face and you felt your breathing quicken under his scrutiny. The normally cold demeanor that seemed permanently on his face wasn’t there currently. Instead, it was replaced by cool amusement, a cocky sort of arrogance.
There was something in those calculating amber eyes, his lips tilted upwards just slightly, smug. You were now in such close proximity that you saw freckles accompany the pale skin of his face, more apparent up close than they were from a distance.
“Tell me,” he continued, when you hadn’t yet spoke, “Have you ever heard the rumors about Autumn males?”
You had. But you hummed, willing to play along.
“I may have.”
His touch drifted from your jaw, hand sliding down to your neck. The backs of his fingers brushed lightly along the side of your neck, making your breath hitch. You inadvertently tilted your head just slightly, leaning into that touch. His smile was wolfish, picking up on your reaction.
“Then I would think that would intrigue you. That someone like, oh I don’t know, me, could give you something even better than those Illyrian brutes could.”
His words weren’t cruel, more of just a force of habit at this point. Your eyes narrowed, it too out of habit of protecting your loved ones.
“Don’t insult my family.”
A low chuckle.
“Apologies. But I can’t help but notice, you still haven’t answered my inquiry.”
“I don’t recall hearing a question,” you quipped, a smirk blooming on your lips.
His eyes seemed to darken as they roamed your face. You weren’t sure what kind of game you’d set yourself up for with Eris Vanserra, but it was sort of thrilling.
For once, he seemed at a loss for words.
But your eyes seemed to keep dropping to his lips—the temptation to give in to the pull you’d felt all afternoon towards the Autumn male, incredibly strong.
Your tongue came out, wetting your lips, your eyes finally bouncing back up to his.
“Maybe I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to play with fire.”
He took it as an invitation, which you had wholeheartedly wished he would. In rapid fire movements, his hand slid into your hair, the other hand coming out to grab your waist to pull you to him as his mouth came down on yours.
You made a noise of surprise, but not of displeasure as your brain caught up and kissed him back. His mouth moved over yours with such precision it was like he was trying to seduce you with his lips alone.
Even from one simple kiss, Eris was deadly.
Your hands came up to his jacket, gripping the material in your fingers as you pulled him closer, lips sliding against his in such a heated manner it made your legs weak. The desire you’d felt spark to life in the meeting earlier had doubled, maybe tripled at this point. You found yourself wanting that talented mouth—the one that was usually used for sharp remarks—all over your body.
The hand in your hair tilted your head so he could kiss you harder as he backed you up against the hard table. You grunted against his lips as he lifted you, setting you on top of it, not even managing to break the kiss.
You were impressed.
He took the liberty of moving between your parted legs, breaking the kiss as his head dipped lower. His lips migrated down your jaw to your neck, sucking harshly as your hands slid up to his shoulders, fingers tangling in the hair that was resting there. Your eyes slid closed as he sucked just a tad harsher over your pulse point.
“You spend the entire meeting imagining this?” you gasped, already finding yourself breathless by him.
He wasted no time, played no further games as his hand parted your legs further, pressing his palm against your throbbing core. Even through your clothes, the pressure was glorious.
You moaned aloud at his touch, angling your hips into his hand.
“Seems like I wasn’t the only one,” he murmured against your neck, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you couldn’t sit still. Were you imagining me doing this?”
His palm pressed more firmly, providing delicious friction against your throbbing clit. Your head dipped back as you tried to grind against his hand, a tiny, pleased moan coming from your lips.
He just snickered in response, getting his answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He unfortunately pulled his hand away from between your legs. Instead, he replaced it by dragging you forward, pressing your still covered cunt against the hardened cock still hidden by his tailored pants.
You felt him smirk against your jaw at your whimper, moving you just enough so you could feel the slightest bit of friction. Before you could beg for more, he pulled his hips out of your reach before dipping his head.
Eris brought his lips back to yours, tongue flicking gently against your bottom lip before you opened for him, letting his tongue tangle with your own. You felt his fingers at the waistband of your pants, quickly undoing them.
Seemed like you weren’t the only one eager, especially after rubbing up against you as desperately as he just had—not that you hadn’t been just as desperate either.
He grinned at your own eagerness as you unintentionally leaned forward after he’d already pulled back, chasing his lips.
“Patience, sweetheart. If I’m gonna make you scream, these are gonna have to come off.”
You swallowed hard, desire sweeping like a storm through you. You watched him grab the waistband of both your pants and underwear, pulling them down at once, his own patience clearly thin. Both pooled at your ankles, giving him access to the destination he desired.
“I need you to know, I don’t usually do this. But I’m feeling particularly inspired today.”
Your brows raised in curiosity as you watched him. He tossed you a wicked smirk and before you knew it he was kneeling on the floor, hands under your legs as he pulled you closer to the edge of the table. You tried to nudge his head forward with your leg, the anticipation too great.
“Get to it, Princeling.”
His face broke into a pleased grin, clearly happy you were so desperate for him. His gaze shot up to yours, a playful glint in his eyes. Then, without even breaking eye contact, he was licking one long stripe up your core.
“Oh fuck,” you gasped.
You were caught so off guard you couldn’t do anything but grip the edge of the table and throw your head back at the unexpected feeling. You felt the vibration of his chuckle against your cunt and you felt yourself clench around nothing at the feeling.
Gods, he was good at this and he knew it, too.
He spread your folds with his fingertips, repeating the action—one long lick upwards—before blowing against your soaked cunt. You squirmed, whimpering.
“Cauldron, you’re soaked,” he mumbled, sounding a bit in awe as he took in the sight in front of him.
“Yeah, kinda think you had something to do with that,” you heaved, chest rising and falling from how worked up the male below you had gotten you.
“I’m honored, sweetheart.”
Another smug grin as he leaned down—eyes again locked with yours—pressing his tongue flat against your clit.
“Oh,” you whimpered, hips shifting again to press closer.
He retreated, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before bringing it between his lips, sucking briefly.
Eris hardly gave you a moment to breathe before his mouth lowered, licking at your entrance. You cried out, feeling his tongue thrust into you. One hand flew down and your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping it.
As amazing as it felt, he didn’t stay there long, much to your dismay. He refocused his attention on your clit, fingers sliding into you, replacing his tongue.
You nearly came right then from the stimulation.
“Fuck, Eris,” you moaned louder, unabashedly pressing your cunt closer to his mouth.
Simultaneously, you shoved his head down as his tongue didn’t let up on his continuous flicks. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head as he moaned against you when you tugged on the flaming red strands tangled in your hand.
His fingers pumped in and out of you at a continuous rhythm and you found yourself rapidly approaching your orgasm, halfway praying to the Mother herself that he wasn’t going to pull an asshole move and leave you hanging.
Eris had you so worked up, you were needy for him to bring you to release.
Your moan was breathy, high pitched as he did just that. The euphoria completely overtook your body as your thighs squeezed around his head the best they could—your movements more limited due to your pants still around your ankles.
Eris didn’t stop until you were downright shuddering.
Gathering you’d had enough, he finally pulled back, standing again. After that, you really hoped he wasn’t through with you as your eyes fell to the cock that strained behind his pants. You wanted that in you. Now.
You yelped as he yanked you down from the table, spinning you until you were bent over it for him.
“Gods, the way you were eyeing me the entire time. Made me imagine this exact thing.”
You heard the rustling sound of fabric as he got his own attire undone and pushed out of the way, in preparation to take you.
“Yeah?”
Your hips pushed backwards as you spoke, already seeking him.
“And is it as good as you imagined?”
The end of your sentence dissolved into a moan when you felt his hard cock rubbing against you. His hands were tight on your hips.
“Better,” he groaned.
He swiped his cock through your folds, collecting your dripping arousal once more and you moaned, pushing back against him, needing him deep inside of you, ruining you.
“I don’t think you’re gonna be able to handle my cock, sweetheart,” he taunted.
His thumbs rubbed circles on your skin, a stark contrast to his biting words.
“Maybe you should shut up and let me determine that for myself.”
His laughter rumbled deep from his chest even if it sounded thin at the edges.
He swore, low and dirty, the moment the head of his cock stretched your entrance. He gave you no warning as he thrust all the way in, hard and fast.
“Eris!” you cried out, the sudden movement leaving a slight sting that somehow made the entire thing hotter.
You scrambled for something to grip onto, your fingers scraping against the table helplessly.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grunted, snapping his hips forward making another moan escape your throat.
His next words came with a slight grunt to them.
“As much as I’d love to, I can't stay here all afternoon.”
His pace was punishing, thrusts brutal and you loved every moment of it, loved how his cock seemed to hit spots inside of you that you’d never felt with anyone else before.
You briefly remembered thinking once that you’d saved the best for last. Now? Now, you truly had.
You ground your aching nipples against the top of the table, needing the friction. Just needing more of everything. Of him. Despite him giving you everything you could imagine.
It wasn’t rushed, but it was fast, hot, nearly feral. As if all your teasing looks and earlier taunting had unleashed a beast in him.
“Gods,” you moaned aloud as he dragged your hips back, fucking you on his cock.
His grunts and groans made you clench around him. You’d never expected to be this turned on by the male, but you were absolutely wild for him right now.
“That’s it sweetheart, you’ve been begging for my cock all afternoon, haven’t you?”
You searched for the words in your clouded mind to try and answer him, but couldn’t find them. He was fucking you so thoroughly, you weren’t sure you knew how to form words. All you could do was make a noise of affirmation in reply.
One of his hands slid up your back, fingers tightening in your hair as he tugged your head to the side.
“Haven’t you?” Eris practically snarled.
“Yes. Yesss,” you moaned.
His hand fell from your hair and he groaned gutturally as he pounded harder and you found yourself much too quickly approaching release.
You’d lost all good sense of your mind and most of your ability to form coherent sentences as you peered over your shoulder at him.
“Your cock,” you moaned, “Is my favorite.”
He growled, shifting your hips to thrust deeper into you and you swore you were close to seeing the Mother, herself. His new, deeper thrusts only succeeded in making you louder.
“Gods, you’re gonna wake the entire court.”
Eris’s own moans were loud in your ears—he truly couldn’t say anything about your volume, that’s for sure.
“Shit, fuck, Eris—”
He barely managed to huff a laugh at the curses falling from your lips because of his harsh fucking.
Then the next thing you knew, you were exploding from inside out as you clamped down around his cock while your orgasm overtook you. The pleasure filled cry must’ve been much louder than you realized as suddenly his hand pressed firmly over your mouth.
“Fuck, sweetheart, fuck, feel so good,” Eris babbled behind you, hand falling from your mouth.
He was still thrusting into you with renewed fervor, sending you jolting forward as he neared his own release. His fingers dug into your sides, his thrusts sloppy as he too, fell apart, spilling into you.
You were panting, still recovering from the second orgasm he’d given you in as many minutes, when you realized he wasn’t stopping.
“Eris,” you exhaled, his name coming out on more of a moan than anything.
“Just for that compliment earlier,” he uttered, reaching around to your front.
His finger located a trail of his release, swiping through it before bringing it to your clit, rubbing circles.
“Gonna show you how great I can really be,” he uttered from behind you.
Your vision whited out as he brought you to another orgasm, your blissed out cry filling the room.
Clearly at this point, neither of you cared how loud either of you were.
You had to resist the urge to collapse against the table, your legs shaking and struggling to hold you up as he finally stilled, pulling out of you with a low groan.
You had nothing to say, you were so stunned. You didn’t think you could even form words, honestly.
While you’d had a good time, your only regret was that you hadn’t been blessed with seeing him naked. Just by simply feeling his power behind you earlier, the hard muscle of his body, you had to assume it would be a breathtaking sight.
You finally straightened, somehow managing to bend to pull up your pants. He already had managed to put himself back together, you only catching the tail end of the action as his nimble fingers refastened the button to his pants. Other than his slightly disheveled hair from earlier, none would’ve been the wiser to what you and Eris had been doing.
Though his gaze lingered on you, all knowing and smug, there was something different in his look now—like maybe he hadn’t regretted it either.
He headed for the door with a smirk on his face and he sent a wink your way, over his shoulder.
Before exiting completely, Eris tossed one last remark back to you.
“Thanks for making this meeting more exciting, sweetheart. I won’t forget it.”
•••
PRESENT DAY
The sounds of chairs scraping back broke you from your reverie as you looked around to see everyone else standing.
Clearly, the meeting was finished.
There was chatter around the table as everyone seemed to be stretching stiff bodies and wings.
You weren’t sure how long you’d zoned out for, but clearly it had been long enough.
It was a tad strange now to think of your past trysts, now that your three friends were either mated or interested in others. Which was fine, it had definitely been left in the past for a reason.
But, your most recent entanglement with the future High Lord of Autumn had always felt different to you. When, like the rest, nothing more had come afterwards, you hadn’t been too upset. But by the way Eris had been eyeing you all afternoon—that knowing smirk on his face—it made you wonder about his intentions.
It didn’t help that all the attendees of the meeting had been sitting at the exact same table that the previous year’s incident had occurred.
Just like last time, Eris waited until the room had emptied before he approached you, strolling around the table towards you, hands in his pockets.
It was almost eerie how much it resembled last time. You felt like you were experiencing deja vu.
Eris stopped in front of you, pulling his hands out of his pockets, crossing his arms across his chest as he stared down at you with a small smile.
“I seem to recall we found ourselves in a similar position not all that long ago.”
“Seems so,” you hummed.
“I also remember what we did on this very table.”
His arms fell apart and one hand reached out, tapping the black glass of the table with his fingers as if to further remind you.
Not that you needed reminding, at all.
Your face flushed as the memories flashed through your head at lightning speed.
His head between your legs.
You bent over this table.
You crying out in ecstasy as he’d given you orgasm after orgasm.
Eris was clearly humored by whatever he saw on your face. You wondered if the memories still haunted him like they had you.
Eris had been the only male in your proximity that had left you shaken, left you wanting more.
Left you contemplating if it’d be worth once more.
By the way he was looking at you now, you thought it’d be extremely worth it.
His head tilted and he looked curious. Your eyes fell to the way his red strands shifted with the movement. You still remembered how it felt between your fingers, in your grasp.
“You look like you’re hungry enough for seconds,” he mused.
You straightened, throwing caution to the wind.
“And if I am? Would that be so bad?”
He was silent as he studied you. Finally he answered, though.
“No. Because maybe this time, I want you naked underneath me.”
Cauldron, did you want that too. You wanted him naked as well. He probably could read that on your face, too.
“Maybe this time you’ll let me show you how a real male worships.”
Your hands were already on the button of your pants as he reached for you, winnowing the both of you away.
To pleasure you knew would surpass even three Illyrians.
Summary: You’d retreated to the library’s depths, determined to heal from your past and ignore a certain Night Court general. But Cassian was relentless, determined to get to know the woman who made the golden tether in his heart flutter.
T/W: Talks of past trauma
A/N: Sorry the summary is bad; I swear the actual fic is good haha. I haven't posted in a little while so here's a Cassian fic while I work on the second part of the hunter and the hunted!
Masterlist
Sometimes you feel like you were born with your lips sewn shut.
You had never learned how to speak for yourself or call someone out when they were being rude. You were born with a rock in your throat - a weight on your vocal cords.
Silent as you were, you fell into the role of priestess easier than most. Having been rescued by the High Lord of the Night Court, who promised you safety and warmth over two months ago, you fit in more than some who have spent years hidden away in the library. But you liked being invisible, lost in the shelves of the books, blending into the stone walls.
Perhaps that’s why Cassian irks you so much.
You can’t blend into the bland walls when he makes your cheeks heat such a vibrant pink, and you can’t lose yourself on the shelves when he’s tracking every step of your feet. He makes you feel more visible than you’ve ever felt before, unable to hide from his loudness and ever-perceptive eyes.
𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜
If Cassian had to explain why he was so infatuated with you, he would say it was your silence. Though some find it unnerving and uncomfortable, you speak a thousand times more with your silence than you do with your words. The narrowing of your eyes, the scrunch of your nose, and the tilt of your lips are keys into your mind, and he’s determined to decode every one.
Every Monday afternoon, like now, he enters the library and begins to scour the shelves, unfocused eyes reading the spines of the books. He rounds each shelf, eyes piercing the air until they land on you.
Your delicate hands gently dust a shelf with quiet concentration and sophisticated grace. Your shiny hair shields your face, hiding the delicate slope of your nose, the plush of your lips and your naturally long lashes. He wants nothing more than to brush your hair away, twirling it between his fingers while his eyes memorise each freckle and scar that contributes to your timeless beauty.
He’s learnt from past mistakes of making you flinch that he needs to make his presence known, so, purposely making his steps against the wooden floor louder, he begins to walk over to you. A pause in your movements gives way to your awareness of his presence, though you don’t look away from the books in front of you.
“Good afternoon,” Cassian whispers. If his family could see him - eyes softer than clouds, voice quiet, and body gentle - they would have believed you bewitched him. It was well known that he wasn’t a gentle or quiet male, but he was willing to be one for you.
You finally turn to face him, gaze meeting his from under your lashess. “Hello,” You whisper through barely parted lips, chin tilted up the smallest bit. Cassian can’t help but let his eyes drop, swearing you're secretly muttering a spell that has his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“Lunch?” He grins, showcasing his pearly whites and unknowingly stealing your breath. You look from him to the books in your hand, whenhe moves an inch closer, your eyes snapping to him immediately. “The books will be here when you get back. I, however, have to go to some Illyrian camps tomorrow and I won’t see you for a few days.”
You bite your lip in contemplation. “Oh.” Gently placing the books on the shelf, your free hands move to fidget with your clothing, unable to be held still. Your voice is barely above a whisper, “I just haven’t…Been outside since I’ve gotten here. I would like to keep it that way for a while longer.”
His heart warms at your sincere admission, grateful that you trust him enough to be honest. “I figured you’d say that,” He slowly begins to walk away, and you follow, “Which is why I organised a lunch here. Hungry?”
Your voice is louder. “Starved.”
𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜
Though Cassian is a sweet male with a heart of gold and bravery carved into his bones, you don’t believe his actions - bringing you lunch, and coming to see you almost every day - are built from genuine feelings. While that might sound stupid to some, your brain can see the logic in it.
Because, here’s the thing: A month ago, the general strolled into the library looking for a book. And a month ago, the mating bond snapped.
The moment was burned into your brain, replaying the moment he whispered the word ‘mate’ like it was his holy grail - like you were the sun when he was the midnight sky. He hadn’t done anything odd after the bond snapped, just came by the library more often, eyes seeking yours, lips carrying the conversation when you fall short.
And yes, he was lovely and gentlemanly, sweet and sincere, but how were you supposed to believe that he wanted you when you were raised to believe that you could never be wanted?
He could bring you flowers, and you would think his feelings ingenuine. He could be coated in the blood of the ones who have hurt you, and you would still believe his mind was clouded by the prospect of having a mate.
In other words; you were waiting for the shoe to drop.
In doing that, you’ve had to build the strongest of stone walls around your fragile heart; already so broken and worn. You knew being hurt by someone who tried to care would hurt more than the scars on your skin. But you’re not a warrior, just a girl, and every time he does something nice like makes you lunch and helps you clean as he talks, shatters one of the meticulously placed stones around your heart.
“Are you alright?” A warm, honeyed voice reaches your ears and you blink, the sight of a cheese and fruit platter splayed out in front of you returning. You flush at having been caught in your thoughts. “Yes. Sorry.” He pulls out a chair for you and you sit, the warmth of his body causing you to tense. He’s gone from behind you in seconds, pulling out a chair in front of you. “You’re okay,” His eyes twinkle in the candlelight, “I hope you like cheese, cake and fruit. Bit of a weird pairing, I know, but I didn’t know what you liked.”
You feel another stone brick around your heart shatter and crumble. “Thank you. I love all of those things.” You smile lightly, “Especially cake.” At your words, he passes you a slice of one of your favourite flavours with a grin. “Who doesn’t like cake?”
You smile, not knowing what to say and instead choosing to shove a forkful of the Godly food into your mouth. He’s undeterred by your silence. “Was your day good?”
“Yeah. I’ve just been putting away some books.” You clear your throat, a rock lodged in your throat. “How was yours?”
He brightens at your question. “It was good! I had training with Azriel this morning but, if I’m honest, all I could think about was you.” At your silence and flushed cheeks, he shuffles nervously in his seat. “I have something for you,” he admits, picking up the object by his chair.
Though he smiles confidently, his posture straight, there's no way to hide the shaking of his hands as he passes you the object. Slowly, as if a stray cat, you take it from his outstretched hands, fingers lightly grazing his own.
“Is this…” You trail off, a light gasp escaping your parted lips. You're lost for words, heart beating miles per minute. Because, in your slightly sweaty hands is a book you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember. When you first met Cassian, you made a passing comment about being disappointed that the library didn’t own the book you wanted.
He hunted the book down and got it for you.
A child-like joy possesses your body, a Cheshire grin painting your face, bones thrumming with the urge to stand up and pull Cassian into a hug. The urge wins, and you're rounding the table to throw your arms around his neck before your mind catches up with your body.
He’s hugging you back almost immediately, standing up to hug you properly with his arms fully wrapped around your figure and pulling him closer. You’re smiling into his neck, brain fogged by the excitement of the gift. But your mind is quick to remind you of where and who you were.
You were not a female that males wanted. You were broken and shattered, running from the horrors of your past. You were constrained in the walls of the library, too afraid to leave, too broken to heal. Cassian might think he wants you, but who wants a fractured female?
But…He got you a book. The book. The book you mentioned once but he remembered because he knew that it meant something to you.
No.
He’s doing it because you’re his mate. Not because he cares.
But what if he does want you? What if he cares?
The thought brings goosebumps up your arms, fear swallowing your heart. The thought of him liking you is just as scary as him not liking you.
You step back and smile awkwardly. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” His smile wavers slightly, noting the shift in thoughts though he doesn’t seem angry, just confused. He looks into your eyes, searching for an answer to his question.
The question remaining unanswered, he sits back down, and you do the same. An awkward silence follows, and you shove food into your mouth with an awkward glance at your lap. Cassia’s lips tilt as if trying to push away a smile. “I’ll, uh, have to go soon. But I’ll come see you as soon as I’m back.”
You deflate slightly despite yourself - unsure if it was out of relief or disappointment. “Don’t wait for me.” He stands up, hand moving to touch you before he hesitates, squeezing his hand into a tight fist at his side. His eyes narrow at your words. “Be safe.” His grin is kind. “Goodbye.”
“Bye,” you whisper.
𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜
Though you had built strong walls against your heart, you hadn’t realised how many had crumbled until Cassian had left. You had an ache in your heart, a strong pull on your heartstrings every time you thought of his smile. His eyes. Just him.
As much as you hated to admit it, you were moping. You were quieter than usual, which was saying something - and it seemed your lips had forgotten how to smile. You spent your days alone in the library, putting away books and then hiding away in your room.
He had punctured your heart with the arrow of affection, and you didn’t know how to pull it out. Even If you cut it or yanked it, you would still bleed the ache of unrequited love. You had bled so many times before, and you were unsure if your mind could take another jab.
Lost in the despair of your mind, you failed to notice the High Lady walk into the library, bathing in an air of confidence that glows her skin and brightens her smile. “Good morning,” She grins, leaning against the shelf you were currently dusting, eyes glinting with curiosity and mischief.
You jump, dropping your cloth on the floor as you stare at your High Lady with wide eyes. Not knowing what to do as you haven’t met her before, you cast your eyes to the floor and mutter out a quiet ‘hello.’ She laughs quietly and you look up. “You’re Cassian's mate.”
You’re unable to look her in the eyes. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“He hasn’t talked much about you. I think he wants to keep you to himself,” She laughs, eyes sparkling with joy and humble power. “Good thing he’s away so we can finally get to know each other. The market’s on, it’s girls' day, and everyone else is busy, care to join me?”
You take a moment to process her invite, blankly staring at her as she continues to smile, lips tilted in an awe-like fashion. “Um…” You fail to find nicer words for ‘I would rather set my skin on fire because the thought of leaving this library is more painful than charred skin.’
You don’t have to find the words because Feyre seems to read your mind. “I know it’s scary,” Her eyes soften with understanding, “but you’re safe here. Nothing from your past can reach you here. So join me,” she sticks out her arm, palm invitingly upturned. “We’ll have a girls' day and if you decide you hate me I’ll take you back. Deal?”
You look at her hand and the cloth on the floor, lip chewed in thought. Your words lower to a whisper, “Deal.”
𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜
Though you’ve been alive for hundreds of years, you’ve never had a ‘girls' day.’ It was as scary as you imagined. Feyre had practically dragged you out of the library with excited words, talking about going shopping and getting food. You had nodded along, zoning out as your fear of the outside world grew with each step you took towards the door.
But you had done it, and now you stand in the warmth of the sun, skin painted in its golden rays, bones shaking with nerves. Feyre hadn’t let you stumble or shake, her hand in yours as she pointed out the infamous spots of Velaris. Each place seemed to have its own story, its own memory of the Inner Circle, and you can’t help but smile as Feyre retells each one.
“Cassian once got kicked out of that place,” She points to a store at the end of the street, “He was too loud. And he accidentally broke three wine glasses. Rhysand and I had to reimburse them…Haven’t been back since.” You can’t help but laugh at her storytelling, imagining the kind General getting kicked out.
“That sounds like him,” You attempt to converse, huffing a laugh. Feyre giggles, linking your arms and dragging you to a stall that sells jewellery. “I find it adorable that you’re so quiet- so different from Cassian y’know? He must need some silence since the rest of his life is so loud.”
You’re lost for words, unable to muster a response. Feyre is too distracted by the jewellery to note your awkwardness. “Look how gorgeous this is!” She brings the necklace closer, “It matches your eyes. Here, this is my gift for you since you let me drag you out today.” You protest too late, Feyre already buying the necklace and turning you so she can place it around your neck.
“Thank you,” You stutter out. She winks and guides you to a table. You nervously look around, something lodged in your throat. Fear still grips you tightly, a slight shake of your hands that you’re unable to stop. Feyre’s knowing and gentle eyes encourage you to try and push that fear away.
“You’re awfully pretty,” Feyre states, her bright smile revealing a row of straight teeth. “I can see why Cassian likes you.” A warm blush heats your cheeks, your mind short-circuiting. “He only likes me because I’m his mate,” You say, mostly to yourself. Your doubtful mind forces you to remember the real reason he’s stayed. You may be doubtful and insecure, but you’ve never been delusional.
Feyre snorts, looking at you incredulously. “Cassian likes you because you bring peace in a world that’s always at war for him..”
“I’m too quiet,” You repeat the words you’ve been told many times before.
“Sometimes silence can say more than words.”
You nod absent mindlessly, looking around the bustling market. You’ve constantly been belittled and undermined for your silence; Feyre telling you something different is unnerving.
A child screams. A group of males laugh. A female markets her store. Everything is…loud. You fiddle with your hair. “Can we go back? Please?”
Her eyes soften with understanding. “Of course.” You hurriedly stumble out of your chair, the heat of the sun suddenly too hot on your skin. You crave the cool air of the library, the feeling of leather under your fingertips and the smell of worn books in your nose. You crave home.
𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜 - 𓌜
Cassian keeps to his promise and visits you as soon as he returns, the morning sun barely rises above the horizon before his loud steps echo in the quiet library.
You were shelving a book on a corner shelf, mindlessly doing work to pass the time when the familiar soft scuff of boots on wood entered your ears. Your heart skips a beat, warmth trailing down your spine and leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Your movements pause, the beating of your heart loud in your ears. You quickly turn around, your back pressed against the shelf behind you. His rugged face graces your vision, the visible scruff of his beard and his gentle eyes fighting the barricades of your heart with quick and confident movements.
“Hey,” he grins, voice raw and tired from yelling instructions all week. You smile shyly back. “Hi.”
He doesn’t say anything, instead looking at you like you hung the moon. You shy away from his gaze, hating yourself for believing there was something akin to love in his eyes. “How was your trip?”
He steps closer. “It was fine. Some Illyrians just don’t listen, though. Good thing I know how to punch,” He winks, voice tilted in a joking matter. “I hear you had a fun week. Feyre told me you went out. That’s great! I’m proud of you.”
Your lungs forget how to work, his words snatching the air from your lungs and leaving you breathless. “You’re…Proud of me?” He nods enthusiastically. “Of course I am. I can’t imagine how scary that would’ve been-”
“-Please don’t.” You cut him off, voice shaky and cracking with emotion. You’ve been told many things before; that you’re unwanted, a waste of time and a bore. But no one has ever said they were proud of you before.
His voice is quiet. “Don’t what?”
You gesture between your bodiesyou too, looking into his eyes, tears unwillingly falling down your cheeks. “Do this. Act like you want this. Cassian, you don’t want me. You know that. You’re hurting me, please just stop.”
He steps closer, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I’ve never been a good actor. And I would never lie to you.” His hesitant fingers reach to tilt your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. “Why do you think I don’t want you? You’re everything to me - you’re perfect.”
You bite back a sob, eyelashes fluttering closed against your cheeks. “I’m not perfect. I’m broken. I can’t even leave these four walls for more than an hour without getting scared and wanting to go back. You only want the idea of me. Or maybe just the bond. I’m not…Someone you choose. I’m not strong or loud or brave, I’m not the one for you.”
You push against his chest and he steps back, giving you space. “I can’t be your mate, Cassian.”
A long silence follows. You try to breathe through the shame.
Though you just refused the bond, Cassian remains confident, though his eyes have lost the familiar spark of joy, replaced with the strange softness of concern. His shaky hands move to hold your jaw. You're too starved for the feeling of his touch to push him away.
His voice shakes. “You could be my mortal enemy but I would still feel weak in the knees when you smile. You could threaten my life, and my heart would still skip a beat at the fact you think of me.” His thumb brushes the fragile skin of your cheek, capturing your breath in words of truth.
He steps closer towards your shaking frame. “I don’t want you because you’re my mate, I want you because I am not myself without you.”
His forehead rests against yours. Your breath hitches.
“You’re the reason for my smile and laughter. The reason for the lightness of my heart. You’re my mate. My light. My love. Mine.”
A sob passes your lips, eyes squeezing shut. The heat of his body warms your skin and you’re frozen in place. “I’m so scared,” You whisper, the final stone crumbling against your fragile heart. Cassian nods, his shaking hands brushing your hair back from your face.
His lips brush your hairline. He leaves a gentle kiss. “I know, my love, so am I. But I would rather battle my fears instead of letting you go. I know you want this too. I can see it in your eyes.” His eyes are pleading, begging you. “Please. Please give us a chance. I can’t erase your pain but I can hold you when you cry, listen when you’re scared. Just please.”
Your hands raise, gently grazing the sharpness of his jaw. “You promise you want me?”
“I want you more than I’ve wanted anything before.” His words slip from his lips like honey, melting your heart and soothing your worries.
You’re silent, pressing your forehead hard against his, tears dampening his skin. “Mine?” You finally ask, a shy smile tilting your lips, nudging your nose against his.
Cassian’s hands tremble. “Yours,” he whispers. “Always.”
azriel realizes first, but pretends he doesn’t; not because he’s in denial, because naming it would make it real, and he feels it so deeply in his bones that he doesn’t know what to do with it yet. it begins when his shadows stop reacting to threats first and start reacting to you. they curl when you laugh, bristle when you’re upset, drift closer when you’re quiet. he tells himself it’s coincidence, maybe instinct. but then he notices the ache: the way your absence feels like something physically removed from his chest. love, to him, arrives as inevitability; silent, patient, merciless.
cassian realizes loudly, and then goes quiet; at first, it feels like attraction, like amusement, like wanting to make you smile or wanting you near him. but the moment it turns is violent in its clarity: when he gets hurt and his first thought isn’t the pain, but whether you’ll worry. when he wins a fight and immediately looks for you, needing your reaction more than the victory. love hits Cassian like gravity; suddenly, unavoidably. and for once, he doesn’t joke it away.
azriel’s love is watchful, cassian’s is present; azriel shows it by knowing. he notices when you haven’t slept well, he adjusts the room before you even realize you’re cold, he remembers exact phrases you’ve said weeks ago and brings them back when you need them most. Cassian shows it by choosing; sitting beside you instead of with the others, walking you back even when it’s out of his way, offering his shoulder, his laughter, his entire attention without hesitation.
love makes Cassian careful. love makes Azriel brave; Cassian starts thinking before he speaks (a miracle in itself) because he cares about your opinion of him, but also because he wants to understand you better. so he starts asking you many things; some personal, deeper, others more playful and lighthearted. but he’s afraid of overwhelming you, of being too much; he’s just genuinely curious to get to know you better and enter your world – if you allow him to.
Azriel, on the other hand, begins to do the unthinkable: let you see his desire. he’s not the type to tell you everything about his life right away, but he would answer any and all questions you ask him, and if you tell him something and he’s been through a similar situation, he feels comfortable enough to tell you every detail. his voice softens when he tells you stories or simply calls your name; talking to him is sweet, almost therapeutic. by your side, he lets his longing exist openly, even if it terrifies him.
their flirting couldn’t be more different, and you feel it constantly; cassian flirts openly: teasing comments, warm smiles, a hand lingering at your waist just a second too long. “you look amazing today, princess” he’ll say, half-grinning, like it’s a compliment and a warning all at once. azriel flirts in fragments: a low murmur meant only for you, a look held for too long, a shadow brushing your fingers when his mouth refuses to say what his eyes already have.
Cassian becomes softer around you in a way that surprises even him; he still laughs, still flirts, still fills the space, but now he’s allowed his own heart to open more when he’s near you. when you speak, he leans forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze attentive. when you’re tired, he lowers his voice without realizing it. he gives you thoughtful gifts. he’s more of a gentleman. he asks before touching. he asks before staying. loving you teaches him to be more caring.
Azriel begins to take emotional risks he’s avoided his whole life; he no longer disappears, because he values your company and cherishes every second by your side. if you’re upset, he doesn’t assume you want space, he offers his presence. sometimes, he just sits beside you in silence. sometimes, he murmurs, “i’m here for whatever you need,” like a confession. his shadows no longer hide what he feels; they frame him, define him, reveal him. he allows himself to become attached to you as he never has with anyone before.
you notice how differently they protect you; Cassian stands in front of you, openly, instinctively, daring the world to challenge him. Azriel stands behind you, unseen, calculating, already ten steps ahead of any threat. you realize you’ve never been safer - and never more wanted.
as time goes by, you start to notice little things that give them away; like the way they both look at you at the same time. Azriel with his dark, yet gentle and even affectionate gaze. Cassian with his open, warm, sweet, and almost defenseless expression. the way they both offer to do small things for you, like keeping you company to the library or your house. how they both offer to get you drinks at rita’s. how they both defend you, protect you.
you begin to notice how Cassian never touches anyone the way he touches you, or the way he talks to you. you notice how Azriel starts getting closer and closer, always within your reach and always memorizing everything about you; in a gentle way, you feel seen, you feel important. you notice – and feel – the atmosphere between both change when you leave the room and, especially, when you arrive. you notice how both always look at you when you’re in crowded places, as if they’re aching to be by your side and, at the same time, are looking at you to make sure you’re okay, safe, and happy.
and the moment they realize the other is in love with you is quiet; Cassian notices first. he sees the way Azriel’s shadows soften around you, how Azriel’s gaze follows you even when his body stays perfectly still, how genuinely he smiles when you walk together, side by side, through the gardens... it hits him like a dull ache; not jealousy at first, but recognition. Azriel realizes when Cassian steps between you and danger without thinking, when he takes a blow meant for you and laughs it off like it’s nothing. Azriel feels it settle in his bones: he would die for her, too.
the dynamic changes immediately — and irrevocably. they don’t compete, but they adjust. Cassian becomes gentler with Azriel, quieter when you’re near. Azriel becomes more present, less distant, because he knows retreat means losing ground he never meant to claim — but can’t abandon either. there’s tension, yes, but it’s restrained. neither wants to be the one who hurts you.
they never talk about it with each other. they are brothers after all, and love each other unconditionally. they wait for the other to be the one to speak first, to admit their feelings for you, but neither of them does, because they both already know how the other feels. so they keep orbiting you, silently aware of one another. their eyes don’t lie; they know everything the other is feeling.
being loved by both of them feels like standing between fire and shadow; cassian’s love keeps you warm, laughing, alive in your body. Azriel’s love keeps you grounded, seen, held in the quiet parts of your soul. and sometimes you wonder how something so beautiful could also feel so dangerous.
the jealousy is there, but it’s controlled, mature. dangerous in its stillness; cassian feels it in his chest when you laugh quietly with Azriel, when your shoulders brush. he breathes through it, reminds himself that wanting doesn’t entitle him. Azriel feels it like a blade under his ribs when Cassian makes you smile without trying or when he sees your hands gently brushing against each other as you walk side by side. he never intervenes, but his shadows watch, sharp and alert.
you start seeing the cracks in their armor and how love exposes them differently; Cassian fears not being enough, that his warmth is temporary, that one day you’ll want quiet instead of fire. Azriel fears being too much, that his darkness will weigh you down, that once you truly see him, you’ll step back.
and yet, when you’re hurt, or afraid, overwhelmed, when you need, they move as one; cassian grounds you in your body with steady hands and solid presence. azriel grounds you in your mind; soft murmurs, shadows curling close. a promise without words that nothing will touch you.
Summary: You and Cassian have been best friends since you were teenagers-- just friends. But one night at Rita's changes everything and now you cant breathe when you're around him and he can't stop imagining how you'd taste.
Warnings: 18+ SMUT! like porn with plot aka: best friends to lovers, sexual tension, alcohol use, drunken handsy moments, two dummies in love, male masturbation, unprotected PIV, fingering (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk, sex sex sex! we love sex!!
Word Count: 19k (a biggie!)
a/n: heavily inspired by my fav song mistakes like this by prelow. give it a listen for the vibes ;) I was going to make this multiple parts but decided against it. lets imagine Rita's like a lil more modern club okay mwuah enjoy.
Part Two
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
Rita's was loud.
On busy nights like these, the place was a complete sensory overload– live music with thumping bass and swirling laughter. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, perfume, and the occasional waft of arousal, a delicious smell that often lingered in Rita’s. You loved nights like these, loved the energy that came with finally being able to let go. You let out a content sigh as you watched people dance across the dimly lit club, enjoying the music that vibrated through their bones.
You stood next to Cassian at the bar, leaning against the smooth surface as you awaited the drinks you had ordered. He was in the middle of telling you a story-- or at least you think it was a story. You couldn't tell.
"What?" you exclaimed loudly, leaning forward in a futile attempt to decipher his response. Frustration etched across your face, you took a step back, gazing up at Cassian. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you shook your head while gesturing emphatically to your ears. "I can't hear," you mouthed, hoping he'd understand.
Cassian's initial confusion gave way to realization, his mouth forming a distinct "Ooooh." Leaning down, he bridged the distance between you, his lips hovering above your ear to deliver his words in a loud whisper.
And then it happened—a giggling drunk couple bumped into Cassian, disrupting his balance. His lips, which had initially hovered near your ears, now made a brief but intimate contact, running along the shell of your ear.
Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins, the warmth permeating your entire body. Or perhaps it was the pulsating energy of the crowded dancefloor. Whatever it was, you felt it—a shiver tracing a path down your neck, following the curve of your spine. Awareness dawned on you—his proximity, his breath on your ears, the almost electric closeness of your cheeks, the way his disheveled hair framed his face.
He pulled away, a smile playing on his lips. He mouthed something, but you were lost in a daze, barely registering that those plump, red lips were actually forming words.
"Y/n?" he called out, raising his voice to be heard over the music. "You got that?"
Blinking, you shook your head, dispelling the lingering traces of your thoughts. A smile curved on your lips as you replied, "Yup."
You had no idea what he said, hadn't caught a word of what he was whispering in your ear. But at that moment, it didn't seem to matter. Internally, you chastised yourself— it's just the alcohol, that's all it is. After all, Cassian had always been attractive. You just happened to be drunk and noticed it a little bit more. Appreciating the beauty of your best friend, completely platonically.
The bartender returned with your ordered drinks, placing them on the bar with a lingering gaze that hinted at an appreciation for more than just the cocktail he had crafted—one directed entirely at you. Your attention, however, was occupied by the lively atmosphere around you as you spared the bartender a quick glance, grabbing your drink. Cass, on the other hand, picked up on the admiration, staring at the bartender and tucking away the information in the back of his mind.
As you both turned to leave, Cassian's movements synchronized with yours and his arm rubbed against your own, sending a subtle brush of warmth through you. You paused for a beat. The warmth was still there. You hated it. A realization dawned – you needed more alcohol.
With a silent determination, you gave Cassian a "one moment" gesture, holding up a finger. Cass watched as you turned back toward the bar, leaning forward to catch the bartender's attention. When he turned to face you, you placed your hand lightly over his.
"Actually," you said with a smile, “Can we get two extra shots? Of your strongest."
The bartender gave you a smile back and nodded in acknowledgment. In no time, two additional shots, robust and potent, joined the lineup, arranged neatly on the polished surface. Cassian frowned, flickering his gaze between you and the shots. You felt his presence as he leaned in and instinctively took a step back, not turning to look him in the eyes.
“We’re taking another round?”
“Nope.” You said, popping the p. Without hesitation, you downed them both with a practiced ease. Finally, you looked up at him, making a face as the liquor made its way down your throat. “Those were for me.” Your voice came out in a croak.
Cassian raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk playing on his lips.
“Someone is getting hammered tonight."
You simply nodded, a nonchalant "mhmm" escaping your lips. The alcohol ignited a warmth that spread through your veins, momentarily overshadowing any reservations. With the edge taken off, you were ready to rejoin your friends– with the exception of Amren, who was “too busy” to join tonight.
Cassian led the way back to the booth, his hand finding its familiar place at the small of your back. Cass always did this when at Ritas, a gesture to ensure that you weren’t swept away by the sea of people. Yet, this time, it felt different. As he guided you through the lively crowd, you couldn't ignore the heat that radiated from his touch. Your heart quickened its pace. Its the alcohol-induced haze, you told yourself. Thats all.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
Two hours later, Rita’s was still pulsating with energy and you were absolutely wasted. The vibrant atmosphere seemed to blend seamlessly with the warmth of your intoxication and everything around you seemed to echo with life.
You, Mor, and Feyre slowly returned to the booth for a much-needed break, hands interlaced with one another and glasses still full, waiting to be enjoyed. In your inebriated state, you teetered back and forth as you made your way to the booth, plopping down next to your best friend.
At your arrival, Cassian sat up right, waiting for you to do what you always did—lay your head on his shoulder. And, like clockwork, you fell into place, your head finding its familiar spot on Cassian's shoulder.
"Look who decided to join the land of the living," Cassian teased as he nudged you gently. You felt him adjust his seating, his wings moving to accommodate your presence. The booths at Rita’s were large, the seats extra wide and spacious— for many reasons. You didn’t think too long about the ways people used the extra space.
Instead, you chuckled at Cassian’s comment, the alcohol-infused haze making everything seem delightfully amusing. "Jus' exploring alternate universes on the danceflooooooor."
The sound of your voice and the way you dragged out your words set Cassian into a small fit of laughter, a rich melody that blended with the music. The sound vibrated through his body and you felt his chest and his shoulders rise with it. The laughter resonated in your own as a result.
"Alternate universes, huh?” He asked, “That why you were grinding on Mor like a horned-up teenager?"
Craning your head slightly to look up at him, you gasped dramatically, feigning offense. He was already looking at you, his face tilted to the side to meet your eyes. There was a clear sense of amusement written into his face, the corners of his mouth turned up, a certain glow in his eyes.
"I was not! How dare you judge me?" With a determined glint in your, now narrowed, eyes you added, "I never judge how you practically dry hump every woman you dance with."
Your best friend's lips curled into a grin, and his eyebrows lifted for a moment. There was a playful roll of his lips before he nodded, slightly chuckling. You got him there.
"Okay, whatever."
You watched as he took a sip of his drink with his other hand, then lowered it to rest the glass on his knee. Leaning back a bit, a small giggle escaped your lips at nothing in particular. Then, you let out a laugh.
"You're wasted." Cassian stated matter of factly, turning his head to look at where yours lay on his shoulder. Your laughter continued for a moment, ending with a sound of content.
"Maybe." You replied as you leaned back a little, your head lolling backwards. Your eyes, framed by thick lashes, found Cassian's. You looked at him for a moment, taking in his face, his intense gaze focused on you.
"You're real attractive, Cass," you murmured, the words carrying a sincerity that caught him off guard.
Cassian didn't know why his heart leaped at your words. This wasn't something new. You had complimented him multiple times before. He knew he was attractive-- he knew you knew he was attractive. But there was something different this time, something in the way you bit your lip, gnawing at it with your teeth, the genuine look in your eyes.
"You think so?" he said. You wondered how his voice could be so soft, yet so husky. How was that possible?
You nodded lazily, not breaking the intense eye contact. "Mhm," you affirmed.
Cassian's gaze shifted, and suddenly he found himself studying your face. Your head tilted back, he took in the sight of your lips, the stunning makeup enhancing your features. You were gorgeous, he’d always known this-- everyone who saw you thought the same. But you were best friends, and the strength of your bond lessened the urge to explore thoughts of you that went farther than simple observation.
"You're not too bad yourself."
You perked up a bit.
"Yeah?" you asked eagerly.
Cassian gave a chuckle at your enthusiastic reply, noticing the way your eyes lit up behind their drunken haze. But before he could say anything more, Mor appeared, her hands outstretched, ready to pull you back onto the dancefloor.
"Y/n," She said, "Come danceeeee."
You looked up at her, your body slowly moving up right.
"But Cass and I-"
Mor whined.
"Feyre abandoned me for Rhys and Azriel is too busy being a gargoyle."
You snickered at her words, your gaze drifting over to where the Shadowsinger sat across the booth, a small grin on his mouth as he brought his cup to his lips. Then, you looked towards the dance floor, a sea of moving bodies with each person lost in the rhythm of the music. Sure enough, your gaze settled on Feyre and Rhysand, deeply entwined as they danced against one another, their bodies swaying together.
You returned your gaze to Mor, with her outstretched hands and a pouty face. You grinned, and she let out a small shriek of excitement at your wordless answer.
You placed a hand on Cassian's thigh, giving a small pat as you forced yourself up, the other hand in Mor's grasp. Cass held his hands up to stabilize you.
You turned to face him, your body slightly swaying.
"See ya later, Commander."
You gave him a drunken salute, the gesture slow and sloppy, before Mor whisked you away to the dance floor.
Cassian watched your figure as you retreated to the dance floor, unable to look away. He could still feel the lingering warmth on his thigh from where your hand had rested, as if an imprint of your touch had been left behind– he half-expected to undo his pants and find a charred handprint, a mirror image of yours. Your delicate hands, your soft skin, your slender fingers..... the thought sent a jolt of desire through him.
Stop it. Cassian's brain scolded him.
But still, his gaze drifted to where you were lost in the lively throng of bodies. The live music pulsed around you, guiding your movements as you moved with your usual demeanor of grace. The way you swayed to the rhythm, the fluidity of your gestures, it was mesmerizing. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to dance with you the way you were on Mor, without the barriers of friendship. To feel your body pressed against his, to lose himself in the rhythm and the heat that seemed to radiate from both of you.
His eyes trailed your body, taking in every curve and movement, and suddenly, he began to notice the way other males and females were doing the same.
He felt a growing anger stir within him, an emotion he had never felt before, not when it came to you. It was a possessive rage, a primal instinct that told him he needed to protect you from these observers. The bodies around you, their gazes lingering on your body, only fueled the fire within him. They shouldn't be looking at you like that. They weren't worth your time--- weren't worthy of being able to admire you the way they were. He should do some-
His musings were abruptly interrupted by a chuckle from Azriel.
The sound jolted Cassian back to the present, and he turned to find his brother looking at him with an amused expression. Annoyance crept into Cassian's features as he asked,
"What?"
Az's amusement deepened, and he replied nonchalantly, "Nothing."
Although Azriel's response seemed innocent, there was a knowing glint in his eyes, a small smirk that he covered by bringing his cup to his lips. Cass was well aware that Az was hinting at something, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to care. All he could focus on was the uncomfortable heat in his stomach, feeling as if he was suffering from intense heartburn. But funnily enough, the feeling only grew heavier when he looked at you.
Azriel down his drink before grabbing Cassian’s attention.
"Let's get you another drink."
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
The night had surrendered to the early hours of the morning, casting a dreamlike glow over the city as you and your friends stumbled out of the vibrant chaos that was Rita's. The streets, now filled with the remnants of the night's revelry, echoed with the laughter and inebriated chatter of others who were also bidding farewell to a night spent well.
You walked alongside Cas and Mor, Feyre and Rhysand a few steps ahead. Azriel had left an hour prior; a smug expression adorned his face as he escorted a striking male with brown hair and green eyes-- the very one who had generously bought him drinks throughout the night.
You looked at the mated pair ahead of you, Rhysand's arm draped casually around Feyre’s shoulder. You watched as he leaned in, whispering something in her ear. Feyre suddenly stilled and turned around, an evident blush lingering on her cheeks. Rhysand looked at her with an amused twinkle in his eyes, then he turned his gaze toward your group, mirthful mischief etched across his face.
"We're not feeling that well, so we're going to go sleep." Rhysand declared, his words dripping with a level of unseriousness that made you want to laugh. But, not even Rhys could take himself seriously, the corners of his mouth soon turning up to form a pearly-white grin.
Feyre playfully slapped his chest, but the grin on Rhysand’s face grew even wider, brightened by a child-like glee. With a final shared glance, the mated pair left. You smiled to yourself, thinking about how evident the couple’s love was and how much it made you want something similar.
Before you knew it, only you and Cassian were left. Mor, who had been walking side by side with you both, had halted abruptly. A smile played on her lips. "I've got somewhere I want to go," she announced cryptically, winking before disappearing.
The intoxication in your veins rendered winnowing out of the question – too drunk to focus, and Cassian couldn't fly without risking an aerial mishap that involved either vomit or an unexpected plummet. Both options were less than ideal, so you both continued walking, the cool night air beginning to clear the remnants of your alcohol-induced hazes.
Cassian watched as you moved with a certain lightness, the effects of the drinks still lingering in your movements. Suddenly, you spun around, catching him off guard. His hands flew out instinctively, prepared to catch you if you lost your balance, but you paid no attention to the movement. Instead, you looked up at him with a small frown.
"Hey," you began, your words still slightly slurred. "How come everyone's getting some tonight, and here we are, feeling left out?"
He watched you for a moment, your stature, your slow blinks, how intensely you were staring at him. Cassian grinned. His eyes, veiled by a layer of playful charm, fixated on yours.
"Well, I'm right here,” He declared, “Say the word, and I'm all yours, allll night long.”
Cassain ensured that his words were delivered with a teasing tone, a tone he prayed masked the underlying desire he felt. You didn’t notice. All you could focus on was the burning in your chest, the way your heart tugged at his response. This was nothing out of the usual, Cassian flirted with you all the time. Cassian flirted with everyone.
So you let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the quiet night.
"Oh, please. You're such a pig," you retorted playfully, adding a mockingly dramatic eye roll. Then you swallowed, forcing your next words out. "Never. Could you imagine?”
You didn’t want to see his face as he answered the question, too worried that it would hurt you in some way if he reacted appalled and disgusted. So, you turned yourself around and began walking again, focusing on the cobblestone road underneath your feet, at the cold air starting to bite at you.
There was a quiet pause, and then you heard the small laughter of your best friend. He wouldn’t tell you where his mind wandered, now, when he thought of you, wouldn’t acknowledge the hurt that nestled itself quietly in the recesses of his thoughts.
“No. I couldn’t.”
Another pause. Despite being out in the open, breathing in the fresh night air, you began to feel stuffy. A sense of discomfort wrapped itself around you.
"How come you didn't go home with anyone?" You asked. You gnawed at your lip, waiting for his response, observing his reaction from the corner of your eye.
Cassian raised an eyebrow. He stopped to look at you, and you stilled, turning slightly to face him. When he gave you no response, you let out a small sigh.
"Y’know, like that one redhead giving you eyes back at the bar."
You did your best to disguise the subtle irritation lingered in your tone, but beneath it, you felt a sense of bubbling jealousy. How was Cass so unaware? How come you were so aware?
Cassian's eyes widened slightly as he scrambled to recall the moment. Panic briefly flickered in his eyes as he realized he hadn't even noticed anyone else, his attention consumed by you. “Ohhh, her?” He finally responded, “Nah, tonight was just about hanging out with all of you. Y’know, family time.”
You felt a smile tugging at your cheeks. Family time didn’t stop Azriel, or Feyre and Rhysand. In your gut, you knew that it hadn’t stopped Mor either, the look on her face as she left screamed of a sudden lustful advance. Cassian’s answer deeply satisfied a part of you, for reasons you couldn't decipher at the moment. Your smile widened when he gave you a fond smile of his own.
“Big ole’ sap.” You teased, affectionately nudging him with your shoulder.
You fell into another comfortable rhythm, walking alongside each other in silence as the echoes of night behind you slowly faded. Cassian could hear you humming faintly to yourself and a warmth filled his chest. You often hummed when you walked. When you were drunk, it was always a guarantee. Cass used to use it as a meter for your sobriety, detecting how drunk you were based on how horrible your humming was. Currently, it sounded angelic. But he wasn’t sure if he could trust his own judgment, not now, not when it came to you. Even as you walked side-by-side, he felt the urge to get you closer, made the effort to ensure your hands swung next to one another— that you bumped into his bicep every now and then as you walked. What was wrong with him? And why did you smell so good?
Cass cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly to look at you.
“So, uh, speaking of people, why didn’t you go home with the bartender?”
You stopped abruptly, caught off guard by question. Cassian, too, halted in his tracks, a subtle maneuver to avoid colliding with your shoulder. Turning to face him, your eyes sought his in the dim light. "The bartender?" Confusion furrowed your brow.
His gaze, laden with an unspoken curiosity, met yours. He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
You paused, your thoughts weaving through the blurred memories of the night. Every image was muddled in your mind, a fusion of moving bodies and your hands picking up new drinks. God, how many did you take? You couldn’t remember. Your memory was hazy, unfocussed. There was only one thing in your mind that shone in perfect clarity– only one person. And it wasn’t the bartender.
“Guess I didn’t.” You shrugged.
Cassian thought back to the bartender, a handsome male with short brown hair and blue eyes. The way he had stared at you, the way he had smiled. Cass’s mind found the memory of you reaching over the bar, your hand over the bartender’s, leaning in to request another drink. A flash of your smile. He fought the urge to make a face.
"Yup,” He said, “Gave you eyes the entire night. Half surprised they didn't fall out and follow you home."
He didn’t intend to sound bitter, didn’t mean for it to drip from the words he spoke. He couldn’t help it. But, by the look on your face, you hadn’t noticed. Yet again. Cassian let out a breath. It took a moment for his words to settle into your mind, and then you let out a snicker at the image painted by them. He grinned at the sound.
"Well then, I'm really surprised I didn't notice."
And you were. You were usually good at these things, at recognizing advances. You picked up on lingering gazes and touches that were one second too long. If Cassian was referring to the bartender you were thinking of, then he had been very attractive. On another night, you would have definitely noticed— and definitely taken the opportunity. But not tonight. Tonight was different, felt different.
"Can't blame him," Cassian remarked, a touch of sincerity in his voice. "You are beautiful."
You blinked, your mouth parting slightly in shock. The words sent a flutter to your chest, and you could feel heat on your cheeks. You shook it off, letting out a sound of amusement and disbelief. It came out as a quiet snort. "Shut up."
"Not even mentioning all the males and females that were ogling you while you danced with Mor."
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You were sure that the blush on your cheeks was on full display and only hoped that Cassian would assume it was caused by the chilly night air. You couldn't look at him. Instead, you shook your head, your eyes looking into the distance. Then, you rolled them and scoffed. "Oh, please. Now you’re just lying.”
You felt his eyes on you, still. You slowly moved your head to look at him once more, watching as his expression subtly shifted.
"No, seriously. It's like some couldn't keep their eyes off you."
Cassian's gaze still lingered on you, unexpectedly soft and genuine. His features bathed in a tender glow, a small smile on his lips. His disheveled hair, tousled by the night's breeze, framed his face in a way that made you itch to rake your fingers through. For a moment, time seemed to pause as you stared at your best friend, your eyes tracing the contours of his shoulders and the majestic wings that adorned his back.
You found yourself taking him in for a minute too long, staring like he wasn’t right in front of you. The realization creeped up on you and you quickly looked away, finding somewhere, anywhere other than his gaze, to focus on.
"Well, whatever," You muttered, turning yourself around to continue walking forward. You heard Cassian’s steps pick up behind you. “I’m over being casual. I’m tired of being with lame males who never make me finish, males who are so boring and entitled, males that are so stupid I begin to question my life decisions. All of it.”
Cassian's eyes widened in surprise, his mind racing as he tried to process what you had offhandedly mentioned. "Wait, what?" he said, his voice filled with confusion. "No one has ever made you finish?"
You weren’t paying full attention to what Cassian was saying, too caught up in your own thoughts and monologue about your new aversion to casual hookups. You waved him off, continuing to walk forward.
Cassian's mind raced with thoughts of you and the males you had been with. He pictured you together, each of them trying their best to please you, their faces contorted with effort, their bodies moving in a frenzy. He pictured some outright ignoring your experience, jackknifing again and again, rutting into you like wild animals. But in his mind's eye, you remained distant, your face bored and vacant, making noises for show.
He wanted to growl. He could do better, could give you the pleasure and satisfaction that those males had failed to provide. The thought was intoxicating, and he couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be with you, to make you feel the way you deserved. Had they truly not taken the time to worship you? To explore your body, pray to it like it was sacred?
His mind painted a picture of you together, your bodies entwined, a room filled with the smell of sex. He saw himself looking into your eyes, his focus on your pleasure. You moaning underneath him, wrapping your arms around his neck and whispering his name. Cassian. Cassian. The image was intoxicating— he felt a stirring in his cock, a longing that settled heavy in his stomach.
But it was short lived. Quickly, a sense of guilt washed through him, flooding through his veins. Here you were, talking about your life and feelings, and he was imagining you naked, underneath him, your face contorted in pleasure. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be thinking of this. He should be listening to you, his best friend, and giving you advice. He aggressively shoved his thoughts away, putting a lock on the visions of you that were manifesting in his mind. With a deep breath, he told his deteriorating self-discipline that he could think of those beautiful images later, when it was just him and his hand in the solace of his room.
He found himself grateful that you were walking ahead of him, that the night air provided a distraction, a physical discomfort that could dampen his desires. It was cold out now, the breeze seemingly more nippy. It sobered him up, ridding the effects of the alcohol in his veins and his drunken feelings of lust.
It was cold out. His eyes snapped up to you walking ahead of him, rubbing your arms absentmindedly. You were cold. How had he not realized?
Because you’re a horny prick who can’t seem to remember your place in her life. His mind screamed at him. He knew it was right.
"I just want to find someone who can connect with me on a deeper level. Someone who sees me.” You said with a defeated sigh. You stopped for a minute, looking back as Cassian caught up to you, the war general having fallen behind, distracted by his own thoughts.
Finally reaching you, he gave you a look that you’d never seen before, and you slightly frowned from being unable to read him. But soon, his face softened, and he put his hand on your arm. The touch was tender, despite his large, rough hands, and it sent a warmth throughout your body that combated the cool air.
"Y'know, you could get anyone you wanted."
His voice, sincere and quiet, took the breath out of your lungs.
Well, not anyone. The thought flitted through your mind. You ignored it.
He smiled at you, a warmth in his gaze that set your heart on fire. “Lets get you home.”
Cassian draped his arm around you, his hand rubbing your biceps as you instinctively leaned into the comforting gesture. When his wings flared out and curled around you both, you felt the flutter in your chest again, a faint warm glow. This time, you let it sit.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
Cassian's ability to fly gradually returned with the waning effects of the alcohol, and the rest of the way home had been filled with comfortable silence. You felt the familiar comfort of home envelop you the minute you stepped foot inside, and your room called to you, to your aching body and pounding headache.
As soon as you entered, you didn't waste a moment – walking straight to your bed and simply falling face flat, a groan escaping from your lips. You could feel the throbbing in your head, every movement causing a reaction in both your scalp and deep in your stomach, where a growing sense of nausea was brewing.
"You're gonna be in pain in the morning." Cassian remarked with a chuckle, watching your less-than-graceful landing.
You groaned again, the sound muffled by your sheets. A moment passed, and you heard the sound of Cassian removing his shoes, soon followed by a dip in the bed as he settled in and made himself comfortable. He sighed.
"Gods. Your bed is so damn comfortable."
You lifted your head to look at him, his head leaning on your headboard as he breathed softly. He looked so peaceful, no tension in his face or his body, his eyes closed with the ghost of a content smile on his lips.
“You can sleep here tonight,” You said, “If you’d like.”
The offer felt charged with something you couldn’t quite name, and you felt vulnerable for proposing the idea. Sure, you and Cassian had slept in the same bed together before, but never when you were attracted to him, turned on by his lips touching your ear. Maybe it was a bad idea. You should send him on his way before he gets too comfortable... right?
Cassian's eyes opened, finding your own. "Really?"
Good ideas be damned.
You nodded. "Just don't hog the bed."
You watched as he smiled and settled himself in further, still clad in his button up and trousers. The pounding in your head had slowly calmed to a dull ache, a momentary relief that you knew was bound to end soon. Taking advantage of it, you made a move to push yourself up and get ready for bed, bracing yourself on your forearms. A wave of nausea ran through you again, and your mind began to conjure up images of every drink you had tonight. You groaned.
“Y/n?”
You let out a deep breath. “Yes?”
Cassian could hear the discomfort in your voice, and he sat up straighter, looking at where you lay at the edge of your bed, your head hanging, slightly tilted downwards towards your bed as your forehead resting on your hands.
“Whats going on?” He said, moving closer to you on the bed. You could feel his body next to your head, his thighs rubbing against your forearms.
“Lots of drinks.” You responded, squeezing your eyes shut. “Too many.”
Cass gave a small chuckle, his hand moving to rest on your head. You felt him run his hand through your hair, felt it settle near your neck, right by your shoulders. He moved it in circular motions.
“Let me help you.” His voice was calm and gentle. For a second, you wondered how he was perfectly fine, but then you remembered how well he could hold his alcohol and how quickly he could sober up, if needed. You felt grateful for the latter as you nodded against your hands.
Cassian stood up and slowly wrapped his arm around your back, settling his hand on your shoulder. Then, with the other, he gently took a hold of your forearm, guiding you up from your hunched position.
You didn’t think much as you let Cass guide you, you could feel him next to you, his arms stabilizing you as he helped you maneuver over to the other side of your bed. The whole world felt like it was moving too fast, as if you were the only thing in slow motion. You simultaneously cursed yourself for tonight while wishing you could teleport to four hours ago when you were wasted and the world was perfect.
“You think you can get out of your dress?” He asked you, as he helped you sit down on your bed.
You nodded, looking up at him with a faint smile. “Yeah. Can you…”
Cassian turned to the armoire your outstretched finger pointed to. He nodded. You closed your eyes for a minute, taking another deep breath as you heard him open a drawer and then close it.
“Here.” His voice was still as smooth as before, calm and gentle. It sent a shiver through your body, and you found your heartbeat quickening. Not now, you scolded yourself, you’re on the verge of vomiting. You needed to get a grip. You grabbed the soft nightgown from his hand and Cassian quickly turned around, giving you some privacy.
Your dress was easy to peel off, the small straps sliding off your shoulders with no resistance. You felt the cool air bite at your exposed chest, and quickly pulled the night stress over your head. Then, you carefully stood up, allowing your dress to slide down your legs, and your nightgown to fall properly on your body.
You felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you looked at Cassian, his back facing to you, his beautiful wings flared out comfortably. A part of you felt so vulnerable with him now, with the way he was touching you, how you had looked at him tonight. Cassian always helped you when you were drunk, it was nothing new, but the feeling lingered nonetheless. You cleared your throat.
“Thank you,” You said, looking at Cass as he turned back around. He couldn’t help as his eyes surveyed your body, and he gave you a small grin.
“Oh, how cute.”
You gave him a small glare, smacking his chest with your hand. And then you slowly crawled into your bed, taking note of how Cassian’s hand hovered over your back until you were settled. He grabbed your covers for you, placing them on you.
“I feel like I’m taking care of a child.” He joked, and you let out a little scoff. He only laughed at your response.
“Just take off your clothes and come sleep before I kick you out.”
You could see the restraint in his face as he stifled his laughter. You could already hear it, a joke about you wanting him naked, a tease about taking him to dinner first. But, instead, Cassian let out a quiet laugh. “Okay.”
You burrowed yourself into your bed, closing your eyes and embracing the warmth of the covers, how nice the soft mattress felt on your aching body. Behind you, you heard the sound of pants and a belt falling to the ground, and within seconds, there was a dip in the bed. Cassian’s smell filled your nose and you welcomed it in, a scent that reminded you of peaceful nights and crackling fires.
“Cass?” You said, slowly turning yourself over to face him. You felt him shift, getting comfortable into the bed, and then he was turning to face you as well.
“Yeah?” He whispered, his voice low.
“Thank you.”
You closed your eyes, your nose still filled with the smell of your best friend, his heat radiating onto your skin. You were out within seconds.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
The air was charged with the metallic tang of sweat and the rhythmic sounds of swords clashing. It was a sight to behold, truly. Azriel and Cassian were both incredibly skilled in combat and their sparring matches were always your favorite to watch. Not only was it beautiful to see, with their fluid motions and strong forms, but it helped you pick up on things you wanted to practice yourself— and any weaknesses you could exploit when you practiced with them. Today, you observed Cassian with a focused intensity as he moved gracefully through his training routine, each motion deliberate and powerful. You found yourself unable to look away, suddenly feeling drymouthed and distracted, swallowing hard. You brought your hand to your mouth, your thumb wiping at your lip as you watched.
Were you attracted to Cassian?
No. The sudden heat you were feeling was due to the heavy sun above you, the strong rays hitting you and your slight dehydration. It had nothing to do with the sweaty, built, and beautiful body of your best friend. It definitely wasn’t the way his muscles rippled as he moved, or the way his sweat lined his abs…
"Enjoying the show, babe?"
You let out a small gasp in surprise, turning your head to the side as Mor approached you, a grin on her red-painted lips.
“You scared the fuck out of me.” You said, bringing your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm the quickened beating of your heart.
“I’ve never been able to catch you so off guard,” She mused. “Guess they’re real entertaining today, huh?”
You pursed your lips and looked back over to the two males sparring. They took a step back from one another, taking a momentary break to catch their breaths. Cassian looked over at you, his half-bun had unraveled during the intense training session, with strands of his tousled hair clinging to his forehead, glistening with sweat.
As he caught your gaze, Cassian grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he gestured toward Azriel, attempting to convey his strategy for the upcoming sparring match. You felt a smile pull at your cheeks as Cassian switched between hovering his hands around his neck to mimic an action of strangulation, and gesturing towards Azriel. Az stood unamused, wiping his forehead with his wrist before taking a large sip of water.
Beside you, Mor observed the scene with a raised eyebrow, a hint of suspicion crossing her features. Her gaze flickered between you and Cassian, and a look of realization slowly went through her face. She turned towards you with a slight gasp, smacking your bicep playfully.
"Y/n! Did you two…?"
You turned your head fast to look at her at a speed so fast that you swore you gave yourself whiplash. You looked at her with narrow eyes. “Did we what?”
Mor's grin widened as she leaned in conspiratorially. "Did you and Cassian have a little training of your own, off the sparring mat?" She teased with a wink.
You scoffed, waving her off with a gesture of your hand. You could feel a blush on your cheeks and you prayed that Mor didn’t notice— or if she did, that she attributed it to the sweltering heat.
"No, Mor! We didn't.” You responded, then you made a face of disgust. “We’re talking about Cassian. I could never.”
Mor raised an eyebrow playfully. "Are you sure about that? Because, darling, you've been staring at him like he's a piece of prime meat, and you're a starved vegetarian about to crumble."
Your cheeks burned brighter.
“Such a beautiful image, Mor, thank you for that,” You murmured, rolling your eyes before looking at her. “But that is not what I was doing. I was just… watching his technique. That's all."
Mor's laughter rang through the air as she nudged you. "Sureeee. Whatever you say. But you might want to consider admitting it to yourself before the starved vegetarian inside you takes over completely."
Flustered and unsure of how to respond, you excused yourself with a mumbled, "I don't know what you're talking about," before hastily leaving the training arena, leaving Mor's laughter echoing behind you as she followed.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
You and Cass hadn’t had time together within the past week and a half. You were busy running off with Mor and Feyre, and when you weren’t with them, Amren took your attention. Cassian himself had been busy, too, but he couldn’t focus recently, not as well as usual. The last time he’d been able to properly see you, as you observed him and Azriel training, you left before he had a chance to talk to you. You hadn’t felt Cassian's eyes follow you as you left, didn’t notice the way he traced your figure. His gaze had stayed trained on you until you were out of his line of sight, and only then had he felt the presence of Az behind him. But he was too slow, and the Shadowsinger quickly disarmed him, flipping him onto his back with a loud thud.
Cassian had let out a groan followed by a string of obscenities aimed at his brother, who quickly made a comment about him being too distracted. Azriel was right. He was too distracted. His mind was completely and utterly obsessed with you.
In fact, Cassian felt like a mad man. There was a deep ache that had settled in his chest, one that weaved itself through his ribs. He’d never felt so starved, so hungry. But his delusions, the dreams he’d been having, the fantasies that manifested in his brain, they weren’t sweet enough to satiate his hunger anymore. What he wanted was you. And he couldn’t stop picturing it, couldn't stop indulging in his thoughts. Not since that night at Rita’s.
He’d fallen asleep with you after he’d helped you get into bed, closed his eyes after you thanked him. It was the best sleep he’d gotten in months, made even better when he woke up perfectly rested, rolling over in your comfortable bed to see you. He won’t admit how long he was staring at you, at your sleeping form, your hair fanned out across your pillow. Even with your makeup slightly smeared– a fact that made him feel guilty that he had forgotten to help you wash it off– you were breathtaking. He wondered why he never really noticed it this much before.
Cassian tried his best tonight, laying in his bed after the long day. Restless, he tossed and turned. At one point he considered getting ready and flying somewhere, going to train and practice, or finding some beautiful female to replace the thoughts he had of you. Both options sounded nauseating. So, instead, he pulled himself out of bed and slowly walked around, letting out a yawn and rubbing at his eyes. The hallways were quiet, illuminated by the moon in the night sky.
When he rounded the corner to the kitchen, he stopped in his tracks, his heart quickly jumping. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the low lighting, and then readily took in the sight in front of him.
There you were, a vision of beauty, leaning gracefully into the fridge. The top part of your body concealed by the door, leaving Cassian with a tantalizing view of your legs. The silk set you wore clung to you in all the right places, the fabric catching the subtle glow of flickering faelight, accentuating the curves that commanded his attention.
Fuck. He couldn’t tell if this was a dream or a nightmare for him in his current state.
As he stood there, silently observing, you straightened up. Your hands, adorned with an elegant grace, held onto something within the fridge as you turned to close it. You turned your head slightly and your eyes met his. A wave of warmth washed over Cassian.
"Cass?" Your voice was quiet, the surprise in your eyes quickly replaced by recognition. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. You stood tall, a small plate of mixed berries in your hand. He wasn’t surprised, though, you always had such strange midnight cravings. Still slack-jawed and captivated, Cassian tried to find the words to break the silence. He watched as your face softened and your brows pulled together. “Cant sleep?” You asked.
He blinked. And then shook his head. “Nope.” He finally replied.
You smiled, a warm and inviting expression that made Cassian's heart skip a beat, and made a motion with your head to call him closer to you. You pulled yourself onto the counter, swinging your feet as they hung. Cassian settled next to you, leaning against the counter. The cold slight touch of the cold surface on his bare back sent a chill through his body. His wings nestled comfortably behind him.
Cassian watched you as you hummed quietly, bringing the berries to your mouth. He watched the way your lips wrapped around them, the way your throat moved as you swallowed. His thoughts went straight to his cock, feeling a stirring that had him fighting to maintain his composure.
Get it together. His mind echoed. He sorted through his thoughts, then he looked up at you. “I’ve missed you this week.” He confessed.
You paused, bringing a strawberry away from your lips. Turning to look at him, you gave him a dimpled smile. "Well, you didn’t have to wait until the dead of the night to find me,” You responded. “I’ve missed you, too.”
Cassian mirrored your smile and then let out a deep breath. Despite fighting back his intrusive thoughts about you not even minutes ago, his heart was steady and calm. He could feel a sense of relief wash through his body as he stood next to you, watching you eat. The silence was comfortable— your presence was comfortable. Something warm, something familiar, something that felt like home.
“Want one?” You offered, holding your plate towards him. He glanced at you, then at the plate, and then at you again. His eyebrow raised.
“C’monnnn,” You said, your voice light and amused, “Every healthy male needs to eat his fruits and vegetables.”
Cassian let out a chuckle. “At three in the morning?”
You shrugged casually. “I don’t think the time matters.” You popped a blueberry in your mouth, looking at him. Then you picked one up from the plate, reaching your hand out to his face, the fruit hovering in front of his lips. “They’re nice and fresh and cold.”
He couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were looking at him like that.
With a reluctant smile, Cassian moved to take it from your outstretched hand, but you intervened, a softness in your eyes. "Allow me," you said. He responded with a subtle nod. Holding the berry delicately between your fingers, you brought it to his mouth. For a second, your finger brushed against his lips, a small fleeting touch, the ghost of a sensation. An unexpected surge of electricity coursed through him, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake as it moved throughout his body.
His gaze locked onto yours, your attentive eyes and your mouth slightly parted. Like many other things, you’d done this before, had given Cassian food straight to his mouth. But in the stillness of the night, with the glow on your soft skin and your silk set, Cass struggled to breathe.
A slight grin played on your lips as Cassian, still entranced, tasted the berry you had fed him. He chewed slowly, deliberately, and then swallowed. "See?" you said in a soft, teasing tone, “And it probably tasted better with me feeding you it like some God. You’re welcome.”
Cassian, still under the spell of your touch, let out a small breath. "You're always right, aren't you?"
You met his gaze, a quiet confidence in your eyes. "It's part of my charm," you replied, the words carrying a hint of playfulness. He watched as you returned your attention to your plate, finishing the last of the berries that adorned it. You looked over at him. "It's getting late," you said, dropping down from the counter. "I should probably get some sleep."
As you stood up and stretched, Cassian's eyes followed the movement, taking in the curve of your ass as you arched your back. Your silk set rode up slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your stomach. He felt a surge of desire that made him both embarrassed and excited, like he was a 16 year old again, ready to fuck anything near him. Cassian allowed his eyes to wander back up, taking in the sight of your chest, the way the silk set clung to your breasts, the subtle rise and fall of your breaths. He felt his mouth water.
You rolled your shoulders, turning to look at him with a subtle furrow in your brow.
“You okay?”
Cassian cleared his throat, shaking off his thoughts. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that there was a blush rising to his cheeks, a heat he was suddenly aware of on his face.
“Yeah,” He responded, his voice huskier than intended, “Just tired.”
You shot Cassian a mildly unconvinced look with a subtle raise of your eyebrows, but gave him a half-smile, anyways. “Get some rest, Cass,” You said softly, “See you tomorrow.”
Cassian stayed still, eerily still, as he watched you walk away, watched your legs move and the way the fabric of your clothes rippled as you walked. When you were out of eyesight, he let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Then he titled his head and let out a groan at the ceiling. He took a minute to compose himself, to attempt to regulate the blood in his body– blood that was moving straight to the heat collecting like a pool in his chest. Rubbing his hands along his face, Cassian slowly headed for his room. The quiet of the night that once soothed him now felt like a void, one that yearned for your voice again, for you.
By the time he made it to his room, Cassian’s mind was filled with images of you– of the silk material sliding across your skin, of the way your lips wrapped around the berries, of him bending you over the counter. Gods. Feeling the strain of his desire, Cassian reached down and started to stroke himself through his pants, the loose and thin material of his sweatpants doing little to buffer the friction from his palms. He felt a deep groan leave his mouth at the image of you in front of him, kneeling with your eyes wide and hungry, your lips parted, ready for him.
He slid his hand into the waistband of his sweatpants, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of his cock. He pulled his pants and briefs down his legs, letting his throbbing length fall against his stomach as wrapped his hands around himself. Cassian worked himself in smooth strokes, swallowing every time his thumb grazed the head of his cock. He let his mouth fall open as he imagined you, imagined your body moving beneath him, your eyes locked on him as he took you.
Closing his eyes, Cassian thought of the sound of your moans, fantasizing about how your breath would quicken, how your body would tremble with pleasure as he satisfied your desires. His hand moved faster, his grip tightening as the images in his mind grew more detailed— every sound you’ve emitted to him before, every laugh, every grunt as you trained, every soft sigh, all began to morph together into one beautiful melody. You’re moaning underneath him, desperate, all-consuming, so hungry for him that you’re forced to stifle your whimpers with the back of your hand.
Cassian felt the tension coiling in his body, the tightness in his balls, and the warmth spreading through his body. He imagined you writhing underneath him, your hips chasing his every thrust, your body arching beneath him, eyes filled with pleasure as he filled you with his seed. His orgasm hits him fast, his body trembling with the force of his release as he painted his stomach with the evidence of his desire.
Even after he’d cleaned himself off, after he’d submerged himself in a cold bath, Cassian’s mind still lingered on you, on your silk set, on your lips— on your laugh. And as he tossed and turned in bed once more, Cass realized he was completely fucked.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
"What's got you so flustered?" Mor asked, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.
Mor knew exactly why you were so flustered. Her, Amren, and Feyre had guessed it from the beginning— the subtle touching and lingering gazes. You liked Cassian, like-liked Cassian. And until now, you had refused to admit it.
As you remembered the moment with Cassian a mere three nights ago, a blush crept onto your cheeks. You ran your hands down your face and let out a groan. Feyre and Mor exchanged amused glances.
“He walked in shirtless!” You exclaimed, your voice still slightly covered by your hands running down your face. “Gods, I didn’t know what to do. I just kept shoving berries in my mouth. And then I kept trying to find a reason to touch him but I couldn’t.”
Feyre, who sat next to you with her legs to the side, comfortably nestled into the crook of the couch, leaned forward, looking at you with expectant eyes. “So what did you do?” She asked.
You shifted in your seat, avoiding eye contact by focusing on a loose thread on the couch. "I gave him a berry." Your voice was quiet. You spared Feyre a glance under your brow. When you saw her face crinkle in amusement, you quickly looked away, nervously twirling the thread between your fingers. It snapped quickly.
From in front of you, Mor stared, her brows furrowed and mouth slightly parted. “You gave him… a berry?” She leaned back, a look of intrigue on her face.
You nodded slowly, aware of how lame it sounded. “Yes. I fed him a berry.” You said, looking up at her.
"And?" Feyre asked.
You pursed your lips and glanced at her, and then bounced your vision around the room. There was a deep sense of embarrassment that bubbled in your stomach, a feeling that made you want to hide away. You were flustered, more than you had ever been, and it was due to your best friend shirtless in the kitchen. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush— and it was humiliating. But looking at both of your friends, so eagerly sitting, you let out a breath and word-vomited them the truth.
“And I’ve never been so aroused by someone's lips and the faint feeling of stubble! Gods, what do I do?” You lifted your hands up in exasperation, finding yourself sinking further into the couch. Crossing your arms, you huffed in frustration. Your cheeks flushed, and you could feel the heat radiating from them.
“I know what to do.” Mor said, matter-of-factly. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You do?" Your hands dropped to your lap and you leaned forward.
"Yes. You need to get laid." Mor's tone was casual.
Your eyes widened. "W-What?" Your jaw dropped.
Mor only nodded her head affirmatively, jutting her chin out towards Feyre next to you. “She agrees.”
You shot a look to Feyre, who stared at you with wide eyes. She gave you a sheepish smile. “I mean…” She trailed off, looking towards Mor for help. You followed her gaze and turned your head to the blonde once more.
"We’re going to Ritas," Mor declared. She stood up, a confident sway to her hips as she moved towards the door.
"But we went last week," You protested. Mor stopped in her place and turned around to look at you with feigned innocence.
"Oh, I’m sorry,” She said, bringing her delicate hand to her chest, “I didn’t realize it was illegal to go out two weekends in a row."
You tilted your head and threw her an unamused look, but Mor only grinned at you. When you let out a defeated sigh and shook your head, she knew she had won and looked towards Feyre.
“Amren will come, too. It’ll be a girls night. Right, Fey?”
Feyre smiled and turned to look at you, meeting your gaze. “Right.” She affirmed. She leaned forward, placing a soft hand on your bicep. “It’ll be fun.”
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
When the day began winding down, Mor returned from her apartment, arms heavy with dresses. She strolled into your room, Amren in tow, with the same grin from earlier. Looking towards where you and Feyre sat on your couch, she let out an excited squeal. “Tonight is going to be great.”
You glanced at Amren, who merely gave you a small quirk of her lips before planting herself down on the seat opposite of you, watching as Mor dumped her pile of clothes on your bed.
You casted a glance at the pile of dresses, each with their own gorgeous vibrant color and delicate fabrics. You looked over at Mor. “Couldn’t decide on what to wear?” You mused. You pulled yourself up and walked towards her, examining the dresses on your bed. You brought the fabric of one between your fingers, feeling the delicate silk.
Mor let out a laugh, bringing her hand to your arm. She looked at you with an amused glance. “Oh babe, these aren’t for me.”
You frowned at her, and then your face fell. “Oh, these are for me?”
She nodded excitedly. Looking behind you towards Amren and Feyre. “Tell her how beautiful these would look on her.”
You didn’t look back, instead running your hands across the pile of elegant dresses. It wasn’t that you didn’t love them. Each dress was gorgeous in its own right, and if they belonged to Mor, you knew that they would look even better on– sexy, even. But you frowned slightly at the idea of dressing up to go to Rita’s with the goal of getting noticed. Unlike times before, it didn’t seem appealing. But perhaps you were overthinking. After all, the past two weeks had left you in your head too much.
Feyre craned her head slightly, watching as you stared at the dresses. “They are beautiful, Y/n.”
You let out a small sigh. This was good for you. Mor was right, you needed to get laid. You hadn’t fucked in a while. With all the tension and stress you’d been feeling, the worries about Koschei and impending doom, it made sense that your desires would manifest in someone familiar like Cassian, right? You nodded to yourself at the thought and then smiled. “Tell me which to try on first.”
You eyed the first dress Mor handed you. It was a stunning creation, soft and open, with a low neckline that hinted at just the right amount of allure. The fabric shimmered in the faelight of your room. As you slipped it on, the dress clung to your figure, accentuating curves you didn't always pay attention to. But it didn’t feel right. The straps felt a bit too loose, and as you turned to check yourself in the mirror, you realized the openness that had seemed so alluring was now making you uneasy.
Amren’s eyes narrowed. “No.”
You nodded in agreement, tugging at the neckline. "Yeah, I think I’ll pass."
Feyre chimed in with a supportive smile. "Let's try the next one. Maybe it'll capture the right feeling. Yeah?” She turned her head to the side, motioning towards some dresses that Mor stood over as she sorted through them. Each dress was a different variation of red, Mor’s beautiful statement color and one that screamed confidence and grace. Surely Mor owned more than red, you thought. Why had she decided that you both were going to adorn her signature color tonight? You didn’t think too long about it, your gaze fixed on yourself in the mirror.
After a few more desperate tries, and Amren’s decreasing confidence in Mor’s styling abilities, the blonde reached into the pile of dresses and pulled out a final dress that had you releasing a small gasp. The fabric was a deep, rich ruby red that seemed to absorb the light around it. As you slipped into the dress, the material clung to your curves, accentuating your silhouette. The neckline dipped low, revealing just enough to be tantalizing without feeling excessive, and you appreciated how naturally your breasts fell underneath it. The open back was a work of art, adorned with delicate jewels that cascaded down like a waterfall, drawing attention to the graceful curve of your spine.
You took a moment before looking at your friends. However, it was Amren specifically that you turned to for a decision, meeting her gaze. She let her eyes run down your figure before looking at you. The corners of her mouth tilted upwards as she gave you a small nod. “This is the one, girl.”
Feyre and Mor watched as you turned to examine yourself in the mirror. The dress opened at the hips, showcasing your thighs and legs. The overall effect was breathtaking, a harmonious blend of elegance and desire. Mor's eyes lit up with satisfaction. "Gods, you look so sexy."
You met Mor’s gaze in the mirror. “No ones going to be able to take their eyes off you,” She gushed, “You’ll have your fair pick of females and males.” You let your mind drift off as Mor continued to babble, feeling Feyre’s hands running through your hair as she twirled the strands between her fingers, deciding how she wanted to help you style it. You took in your appearance in the mirror, eyes roaming over the dress once more, over how well it accentuated your body. It wasn’t until your gaze was drifting up that you noticed the figure in the doorway, your heart stopping.
With a smirk playing on her lips, Amren’s voice rang out. "Hello, Cassian."
You, Feyre, and Mor turned in unison to the doorway, where Cassian stood wide-eyed and still. He paled slightly and swallowed. You felt a flush creep up your neck, your hand flying to your collarbone in an anxious movement. Despite the confidence the perfect dress had given you moments ago, the presence of Cassian in the doorway had thrown you off balance. His eyes roamed your body, tracing where the dress fell at your feet up to its neckline, and all the skin it revealed. His wings twitched behind him, falling slightly. You rubbed at the spot that your hand lay at.
Cassian, still caught off guard, stammered slightly. "I... uh, was just coming to see if you wanted to hang out." You felt your face soften, giving him a smile. Before you could respond, Mor waved him off dismissively.
"Oh, sorry. She’s busy," she said with a tight smile. You casted a quick glance at her before giving your best friend an apologetic one. His gaze lingered on you, running up your figure once more– the heat in his gaze felt like it was lighting you on fire, and you bit the inside of your cheek.
"I can see that.” He said. He cleared his throat. “So, uh, what's going on?" His eyes darted between the dresses thrown across your bed and to the girls surrounding you, each wearing beautiful, elegant gowns of their own. He didn’t miss the way Amren looked at him in amusement, or how her gaze trailed to you as she did so.
Feyre looked between you two before answering. “It's girls night," she explained, “We’re going to Ritas.”
Mor, however, turned around with a large grin. "Y/n is getting laid tonight!" she announced with unabashed enthusiasm.
Cassian's eyes widened, and he blinked rapidly as if trying to process the information. A sizzling sense of jealousy formed in his chest and he breathed out from his nose. The room fell silent for a moment before he finally managed to sputter out “I thought you were over casual flings?”
You bashfully stuttered, feeling a touch of awkwardness in the tense atmosphere, a small lump in the back of your throat, "Oh, well..." Your eyes searched for the right words, and you caught Mor's gaze, her curious stare making you feel a bit more exposed than you'd anticipated. "I don't know. We'll see." You shrugged slightly, giving him a close-mouthed smile.
Feyre and Amren exchanged glances, their eyes bouncing between you and Cassian. You didn’t catch it. Mor wanted to laugh, but instead she pressed her lips together and circled you, taking in the image of you in the dress. "I bet she'll have to fight off people tonight," she mused, casting a sly look in Cassian's direction. "Wouldn't you agree, Cassian?" Feyre’s head swung over to Mor and she gave her a tight look, her eyes widening slightly. Unaffected, the blonde looked back at her with an innocent face. What? She mouthed.
Cass was staring at you, unmoving and chest rising rapidly. You took in his casual wear, how his hair hung loosely, some strands in front of his face. He was looking at you with an intensity in gaze that you’d never felt before, a heat that made you feel like you were on fire. You swallowed, and then bit your lip, watching as his eyes took in those movements too. Having not fully registered Mor's question, he stammered again, "I—uh, what?"
Mor's grin widened, and she feigned innocence. "Oh, nothing. I'm just saying that she looks so beautiful. Tell her how beautiful she looks."
Cassian casted a quick glance at Morrigan, but quickly his eyes settled back to the place they were at before– your face, your body, you. You blushed at Mor's pointed comment. His eyes ran down your figure once more, seeming to trace the lines of the dress. You continued to rub nervously at your collarbone, the heightened attention making you slightly self-conscious.
Cassian, finally finding his words, cleared his throat. "You do look... incredible," he admitted, his eyes still fixed on you. You wondered if your friends were suddenly feeling smothered too, if something in the air was making it hard for them to breathe. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears. You resisted the urge to gulp down another nervous breath. Mor let out a small sound of agreement before she looked over at the illyrian male.
"Okay, thats enough gawking, Cassian. We all know Y/n is hot. Now leave us be. Go find Az or Rhys or something," she declared. Your eyes widened slightly, and Cassian shook his head, his mouth slightly parting. Caught between embarrassment and amusement, he took Mor's words in stride. “Right.” He responded with a smile.
He turned around to leave, but before fully retreating, he stole one last glance in your direction. You noticed the subtle, lingering look on his face—an admiring gaze, accompanied by a fleeting lick of his lips. There was a certain longing in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed. Then, you watched as a different expression overcame his features. He walked out before you had a chance to examine it further.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
You let out a small laugh as Mor continued to compliment you, talking over her shoulder as you, Feyre, and Amren followed her, approaching the main foyer. Your laughter died as Mor stopped in her tracks and frowned slightly.
"What are you guys doing?" She asked, a mix of surprise and annoyance in her voice. As you caught up to where she stood, you were greeted with the unexpected sight of Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand standing in front of the door, seemingly waiting for you. Dressed in impeccably tailored suits, each of them exuded a distinctive charm. The realization hit you—the look on Cassian’s face as he departed from your room earlier, the sense of determination, the lingering cue of playfulness. He had gone and convinced them both to join.
You couldn't help but appreciate the attention to detail in how they looked, and Cassian, in particular, stood out. His wings, a symbol of his power and grace that you adored, were confidently spread, and his slicked-back hair added a touch of elegance to his rugged charm. He not only looked good, he looked absolutely delicious. You didn’t attempt to hide the look on your face as you took him in.
Finally ripping your eyes from your best friend, you looked behind him, to where Azriel sat, his face donning its usual cool expression, but you could sense it- the hint of annoyance that laid underneath it. Meanwhile, next to him, Rhysand sported a large, confident grin. A grin that Cassian mirrored, but with a touch less confidence, his eyes flickering between you and the others. Amren, observing the situation with her usual detached demeanor, glanced at Rhysand and deadpanned, "You're coming with us."
Rhysand's grin widened, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! Girls' night, right?" He threw his mate a wink. You heard her stifle some laughter.
Cassian, scratching the back of his head, added with a sheepish smile, "Figured we'd join the fun. Tonight’s been a bit boring." He gestured around him. Then his gaze fell on you. For what felt like the millionth time tonight, his eyes raked over you and you blinked, catching his gaze when it fell on your face. “You don’t mind, do you?”
You didn’t mind. Not one bit, you thought. If he kept looking at you like that, with those eyes and that heated gaze, you wouldn’t mind a thing he did. He could ask you for anything right now, and you’d say yes. Yes, yes, just keep staring at me like that. Like you see me, like you want me.
Mor scoffed, "Yes, we do mind!" She turned to you, looking for support. "Tell them it's a girls night."
All eyes turned to you, and you felt a flutter of uncertainty. There was Cassian, his eyes locked onto yours, examining you, your every feature, your every move. The heat of his eyes had started to pooled down at your thighs. You clenched everything below your waist as you hesitated for a moment, still caught in the intensity of his gaze. Mor's impatience grew, and she raised an expectant eyebrow. "Well?"
You lingered on Cassian, and despite Mor's expectant face, you found yourself saying, "No, I don't mind."
Mor's expression shifted from annoyance to resignation, and she let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine."
Cassian's face brightened with a grin, "I promise, Mor, it'll be so fun." His attention turned towards you, walking to you with a soft, but charming grin. "Allow me." He extended his elbow, and without hesitation, you interlocked your hand with his. The touch was comforting and warm, and his scent enveloped you as he guided you towards the exit. You closed your eyes with a content sigh.
The fragrance that clung to him was intoxicating. Maybe it was a bad idea to invite him tonight, to let him join you and the girls. The dress you were wearing gave you an inflated sense of confidence that you hadn’t felt for a while, and as you walked alongside Cassian, you wondered if it would truly be so bad to indulge in your thoughts of him. To think of his hands, the some ones with you right now, and how they would trace your body the way his eyes had this evening. You felt your arousal bubbling up at the thought of it. It was all in innocent fun, right? You could think of him, enjoy this touch, fantasize about him, as long as that's all it was— thoughts in your mind, away from reality, an idea that you never let come to fruition.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
You had to admit, Mor was right. Rita’s was definitely the move tonight. Somehow it was even more lively than last week, bustling with people and energy. You weren’t as intoxicated as last time, not anywhere near it, but you felt drunk all the same. And you weren’t ashamed to admit, now, that your drunken haze was all caused by one thing: your extremely attractive best friend.
You and Cass had lost the rest of your group a while back, pulled into a drink off with a beautiful fae couple. Cassian and you had won every single round, leaving you standing at the bar now, celebrating with another round of shots.
Cassian was standing next to you as you both faced the bar, your arms touching, practically on top of one another. Cass craned his head to look at the crowd behind you, his hand wrapping around your waist as people drunkenly stumbled past you, making their way to the bar. On usual nights, Cassian’s hand would have dropped by now, returned to their position at his side, but not tonight. Instead, he kept his hand across your waist, keeping a heavy hold on you. You could feel the heat from his palm through the thin fabric of your dress, and you felt it as it moved straight to your core. You instinctively rubbed your thighs together in an attempt to ignore it, suddenly feeling grateful for the multitude of smells in Rita’s that covered your arousal. You turned your head to the side to look at Cassian, noticing that his gaze was on you, but not on your face. Instead, it seemed as if he was looking to where his hand rested on your hip.
“What?” You asked, your brows furrowing, leaning closer to him. He tilted his head slightly, and then you felt his hand lift. You felt a small tinge of disappointment, but it quickly dissipated when you felt his light touch hovering over your back, tracing where the delicate jewels of your dress cascaded down your spine like a waterfall. Your body shuddered. You watched him as his gaze deepended, as he took his lip between his teeth. His hands traced the ornate jewelry, landing at the base of your spine, where the fabric of your dress gathered.
“I like this,” Cassian said, his voice low. His eyes flickered to yours, “Beautiful.”
Your chest fluttered at his words— was he complimenting the dress, or you? You couldn’t ask even if you wanted to, the air sucked out of your lungs with every lingering touch of his. Your mouth parted slightly as he stared at you, as you ran your eyes along his face. You felt the brush of his fingers on your spine now. He wasn’t tracing the jewelry anymore, no, he was touching you.
“Here you go,” A sudden voice pulled you out of the moment. Both you and Cassian turned your heads to the bartender placing two small shot glasses in front of you. You had forgotten you’d ordered another round, forgotten why you were at the bar in the first place, with your best friends hands over you. “I apologize for the wait.” The bartender said.
You spared him a quick glance, a small graceful smile on your lips, “No worries,” you said. But then you looked at him once more, recognizing the smile he wore, the sound of his voice. This was the bartender Cassian was talking about. And from the way he looked at you, how he pushed your glass to your hand, lightly grazed your fingers, you knew Cass was right about his interest in you.
“Thanks,” Cassian said, his voice rough. He grabbed both of the glasses in his hand, dragging them closer to your chests, his eyes trained on the bartender, whose smile faltered as he looked at your best friend. Cassian’s hand, which had fallen from your back at the interruption, found your hips again. “That’ll be it.” You didn’t need to look at the bartender to know that he shrunk away, intimated. You didn’t need to look because all you wanted to stare at was Cassian. Cassian, Cassian, Cassian. Something about his grip on you, on the way he’d pushed the bartender away, the way he’d touched your spine, all of it had you pooling at your core.
“Here,” Cass said, pushing your glass towards you with his knuckle. He grabbed his in his hand. The other hand was still at your hip, unmoving— except for the occasional circular rub of his thumb. You tenderly took the shot, angling your body to twist slightly so you could better face him. The hand on you moved appropriately, still staying placed on your hip as you maneuvered.
“Cheers.” You said, looking at him. You licked your lips as you held the shot up. Cassian met yours, the two glasses making a clink as they touched. “Cheers.” He responded.
Tilting your head back, you welcomed the shot openly, letting the liquid coat your throat, feeling the warmth as it moved down. When you were done, you were met with Cassian’s gaze once more, watching you. His gaze followed the column of your throat as you swallowed. His hand moved to your face, his thumb wiping away a stray drop of whiskey on your chin. The touch itself sent a frenzy through your body, and you let out a small, quiet gasp.
“Y/n.” He murmured.
“Yes?”
Your voice was barely above a whisper, your body still. He was closer to you now than a few moments ago, and it took everything in your power not to pull him even closer, to brush against him.
“You can’t look at me like that.” Cassian finally replied.
Your heart leaped, and you took a sharp intake of breath. How were you looking at him, you wondered? Mor’s words echoed in your mind: like he was a piece of meat and you were a starving vegetarian? She was right. Oh, so right. You wanted to taste him, to devour him, to have him ravish you in return. You swallowed and then whispered in response.
“Like what?”
Cassian said nothing. He scanned your face and then his hand was moving again, brushing a stray strand of your hair from your face. When the hair still fell out of place, he gingerly grabbed it and tucked it behind your ear. You felt his finger trace the shell of your ear, falling as it reached your lobe, now on your cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch, pressing closer to him. His grasp at your hip tightened, and you felt as it moved up, his hands now grabbing the skin at your waist.
When you opened your eyes, your gaze met his instantly. He was breathing heavily, his eyes filled with desire. "We should probably find our friends," he whispered, his voice hoarse. You nodded absentmindedly, feeling your chest tighten. Cassian’s palm slightly lifted from your cheek, the ghost of his touch lightly moving. His thumb found your lips, tugging at them slightly, you let your mouth fall open with the touch. He nearly let out a moan at the sight.
“Or,” You whispered back, “We could go home.”
He nodded, the pad of his thumb still rubbing at your lip. “We could.”
You lifted your hand to grab his wrist softly, pulling it lower, to your chest. You felt the heat of his palm as it landed on your chest. “Cassian.” His cock pressed angrily against his zipper at the sound of his name falling from your lips so sensually, so softly. His hand trailed higher, and then he was wrapping it around your neck, his thumb running along your throat. You savored the touch and bit your lip, looking at him through your lashes. The look was all he needed, any self-constraint quickly disappearing.
“Let's go home.” He said, his thumb running alongside your lips once more. Then, he was spinning you both around, interlacing your fingers as he pulled you through the crowd.
As Cassian led you out, you looked back, squinting at the mass of people. Your gaze landed on Feyre, who was already looking at you. You watched as she glanced between you and Cassian, and then she gave you a small smile, her brows slightly furrowed. Be careful. Her voice echoed in your brain, soft and gentle. You weren't sure what she was referring to, if she was talking about your trip home or the way you were entangled with your best friend. Either way it didn’t matter. You weren’t being careful, not now. You didn’t want to be.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
You weren’t quite sure what to do. You’d never been in this position with someone you loved so dearly— never been in the situation where you were about to fuck your best friend.
The way home was a blur, the cold air as you both left Rita’s in a hurry, how Cass had wrapped his arms around you, how they had wandered and explored, but nowhere too vulnerable— not yet. You had made it a few minutes before you decided to winnow back, your ability fully functioning and, at the moment, incredibly convenient. Back at the house, you both had stared at each other, breathing hard, heavy-lidded eyes with lust. You could smell it on him. You didn’t doubt that you reeked of your own arousal. But Cass has stepped away from you, for a brief moment, biting his lips as his hands curled at his sides. Whatever you want, sweetheart, is what he had said. He wanted to give you an out, a chance to change your mind, to decide that this wasn’t a line you wanted to, or were ready to, cross. The realization hit you sweetly, and it only added to your arousal, the fact that he was so aware of you.
You had looked at him, a small nod of your head towards the hallways, towards the corridors that led to your rooms. You hadn’t said anything, a heavy silence followed you, filled with longing and desperation, a hint of anxiety. You had waited, let Cassian take the next move. If he followed, you both knew what would happen. You had given him an out, too.
You worried when some time had passed and you were still alone in your bedroom. You walked towards your mirror, taking in your appearance, the dress on you, the evident arousal on your face, in your stature. Then you heard him. His walking. You closed your eyes, hearing his heavy footsteps enter your room. You heard your door shut, and the footsteps grew louder until you felt him behind you, the warmth of his body enveloping you completely. You let out a small breath.
“Cass,” You whispered, your eyes opening and meeting his in the mirror.
His hands found your hips, and he pulled you back into him. You felt his hard length against you, pressing against your exposed back, the heat of it alone causing you to let out a small, shaky breath. You leaned back into him, rubbing against him as his fingers tightened around you. Craning your head to the side, Cassian took advantage of your exposed neck, running his nose along it, inhaling your scent. He nudged the sweet spot behind your ears, your knees almost giving out as his lips trailed the shell of your ear, feeling his hot breath against your skin.
His voice, rough as gravel, sent a wave through you of something you couldn’t name, but it was heavy, hot, and made you so incredibly horny. “Sweetheart, are you…” He trailed off.
Sure? Sober? You had a feeling that sober is what his question seemed to probe at. You nodded, nodded frantically. Every shot you had taken tonight had no effect on your body, not anymore. You’d felt the last lingering effects of your final shot as you both came home, feeling as it slipped out of your system. And if he was asking if you were sure, that answer was yes, too. You were boldly, acutely, and fully aware of the moment, of each sensation in your body— fully aware of the ache in your legs, of how good Cassian smelled. “Yes, yes.” You whispered.
“Thank god,” He groaned– a guttural, animalistic sound.
Before you could blink, Cassian was spinning you around. You let out a gasp, your view quickly taken up by the image of his face hovering over yours. He held your face in both of his hands, his thumbs swiping across your cheeks. His eyes scanned you in desperation, as if he was searching for something within the details of your features. Whatever he was looking for he seemed to find as he brought his lips to yours, giving in entirely with a soft moan of relief. His arms moved to wrap around your waist, and you moaned into him, flinging your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He kissed you harder.
“You sure?” Cassian whispered, floating the question again. He slid his warm palm up and over your hips, to your waist, your ribs, and back down again. You let out a sigh at his touch, running your palms up to pull the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Yes,” You said as he feathered kisses along your neck. “Are you?”
You felt Cassian nod against you, a small breathless laugh left his lips as he came up for another kiss. “Fuck yes. I’ve been dreaming about this.” And then he placed another kiss on your lips, deep and sensual. Hunger radiated off him like a starved man. His words turned you to jelly and you swore you could feel your wetness running down your thighs.
“This dress,” he breathed against your lips, “I wanted to rip it off you the minute I saw it.”
Before you can react, he reached out and gripped the fabric of your dress, yanking it downward with a force that left your heart racing. You gasped as the material was torn from your body, leaving you standing before him in nothing but your underwear. You watched in awe as he threw the torn fabric aside, a small sound emitting as the jewels made contact with the hard floor. The cold air immediately took the place of the warmth of your clothing, making you shiver with pleasure.
“That was Mor’s!” You managed to breathe out, looking at the discarded pile of fabric. Your words died in your throat the minute you caught Cassian’s gaze again. There was a predatory look in his eyes as he took you in, and you remembered now that you were completely naked now, save for a lacy pair of panties. Your nipples perked, hard and ready, in the cold air. Cassian, his gaze unmoving, simply grumbled back, “I’ll buy her a new one.”
Cassian's eyes roamed over your naked body, his gaze heated as he took in the sight of you, completely at his mercy. His hands reached out, his fingers tracing a path down your arms, making you shake with anticipation. His hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," He said, "How much I've wanted this." You felt his erection, hard and ready, pressing against your stomach.
His lips found yours, his tongue plunging deep into your mouth as he kissed you with all the passion he'd been holding back. You felt the desire radiating from him, making you feel wanted and desired in a way that nothing else ever had. As he broke the kiss, his eyes locked on yours, filled with pure, unfiltered lust. "I'm going to make you come," he growled, his voice low and rough. "And when I do, you'll never forget the way I made you feel."
With that, he plunged his tongue back into your mouth, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer as you stand there, naked and vulnerable, your cunt throbbing with every word, every touch. Your hands gripped his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together in a frenzy of passion.
Cassian broke away from you for a moment, his breath hot and heavy against your lips. "Jump," he murmured, his voice low and seductive. Without hesitation, you lifted yourself into his arms as he pulled you into him effortlessly. He wrapped himself around you, his hands gripping at your ass, fingers digging into your skin. You felt his erection pressing against you, underneath you, with desperate need.
He took a few steps before he carefully dropped you onto your bed with a bounce. You fell onto your back, your eyes wide with desire as you looked up at him. He took you in with his eyes, every detail of your body etched in his mind, hungrily saving the image of you for later.
Cassian's movements were hurried and frenzied as he removed his own shirt, discarding it carelessly on the floor near your--Mor's-- shredded dress. As he moved, you sat up from your supine position, your legs naturally falling to either side, finding yourself yourself in a kneeling position. You looked up at Cass. The sight of you like this, vulnerable and expectant, only intensified the hunger in his eyes, and he groaned.
You reached out to him and ran your fingertips along the waistband of his black pants, watching as his stomach muscles clenched in response to your touch. Cassian caught your wrists in his hands, looking down at you hungrily, he shook his hand. “Not yet, sweetheart. Let me savor this.”
You let out a small whimper, the sound shooting straight to his dick, causing the hardening length to throb in anticipation. But when he released your hands, you kept them at his waistband, bringing your hand to palm him through the fabric of his pants.
“Please,” You whimpered, “I want to.”
And what kind of man would Cassian be to deny you? To say no to you as you looked up at him with those glossy eyes, your lips running along your lips? He moaned, feeling as if he could cum at the sight of you alone. This, you, were better than any of his fantasies— and he had come up with a lot within the past two weeks.
You stared at him, at the way his muscles ripped under this golden skin, at the black tattoos curling around him, at the way his wings flared out openly, dominantly. You ached to be closer, to be able to touch the sensitive membrane. You licked your lips, taking in the curl of his biceps, the sharp dips of his hips, Gods, he was beautiful. He brought his right hand to your face, holding it tenderly before moving his hand to grab your hair at the back of your head. You took that as your invitation, leaning forward to undo his pants. With his buttons undone, you pulled the fabric down, Cassian’s hands aiding you to slide his underwear off with it.
You let out a gasp at his length, at the girth, the veins pulsing on the underside of his cock. Red and hungry at the tip, leaking. You were watering at the sight. A deep sense of jealousy pooled into your stomach, images of every female he’d been with before, every female who had the pleasure of experiencing this before you. Mine. You thought. Mine. Pushing yourself closer to him, you kissed a line down his stomach.
You felt his muscles tense beneath your lips as you wrapped your fingers around him. He hissed as you rubbed your hands up his considerable length, the sound repeating when you spit on the head, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his shaft. You dragged the flat of your tongue upward, against the underside of his cock. Cassian’s reaction was instant, bucking into your grip with a breathless, raspy, moan that sent a wave of arousal down your body. You allowed your hand to follow the trail, spreading your saliva. Your mouth sunk down on him. As you hollowed your cheeks, Cassian pushed himself harder, letting out a sinful groan as you welcomed him, taking him deeper in your throat.
“Gods,” Cassian tightened his jaw as he watched his cock disappear between your swollen lips with every bob of your head. “That pretty little mouth of yours.”
You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, Cassian’s head falling backward as he moaned, his grip in your hair getting tighter. You moaned in response, the sound vibrating through him. You shifted on your thighs, rubbing them together in an attempt to relieve some of your own arousal. With a wet pop, you released him from your mouth, looking directly up at him as he stared at you with naked lust. You greedily swallowed the taste of him that coated your tongue.
“Enough. My turn.” He said, his voice halfway between growl and purr, a feral sound from deep in his chest that reverberated through your core. Cassian’s hand found your chest, after a squeeze of your breasts, his palm settled above your ribs. With a soft push, you were flat on your back again. He leaned over you and you seized the opportunity to rock against his thigh, your pussy throbbing at every touch of his, desperate for friction. But he moved quickly, leaving you grasping for touch. “Cassian.” You moaned. You pulled him back up again, desperate to have him close, slotting your lips against him.
He accepted another hungry, ravenous kiss from you before he moved down, trailing hard kisses down your jaw and across your collarbone. Your hands tugged at him, roaming over the length of his shoulders and the plane of his back, you trailed your fingers along his wings, the sensitive and soft membrane. You felt him shudder at the touch, watched as those beautiful wings twitched. You needed more.
Cassian stopped, taking a moment to bite into the soft flesh at the base of your neck. You let out a moan, throwing your hands into his hair as he sucked on the tender skin, soothing the area with a swipe of his tongue. He removed his mouth, tilting his head to make slight eye contact with you, a cocky grin placed on his lips.
“I’ll paint you in my marks, Y/n.” He whispered, moving his head down to continue his trail of kisses, “Just to have evidence that I was lucky enough to be here.”
He brought one hand between your thighs, his large calloused fingers dancing over your sensitive flesh, his perfect mouth still exploring you, tasting your skin. Your moans tumbled from your mouth, outside of your control, flowing like a river. You tightened your grasp on his hair, your fingers raking his scalp, pelvis lifting into his touch. Your legs widened further to provide him better access, knees dropping to the side.
“To feel this.” Cassian’s fingers pulled your underwear aside and ran themselves through the wetness at your core, through your sensitive folds. His finger delicately circled your clit, rubbing at it in a way that had you mewing at his touch.
You let out a gasp as one probed at your entrance, your warm core welcoming it greedily. You felt his finger curl, and then arched into him as he added another, working in and out of you. You could hear the squelch of your juices as he fingered you, could feel the way your essence dripped with each movement.
A disappointed sigh left your lips when the warmth of his hand left you. But seconds later, as you looked down at him with your hands in his hair, he pulled himself up slightly– just enough to look at you. Just enough to make eye contact as he tilted his head and stuck his slick fingers into his mouth. He lapped at the wetness coating his fingers.
“Fuck, you taste better than I imagined.” He said, moving down to drop to his knees at the edge of the bed, between your spread legs. You propped yourself up on your elbows to keep your gaze on him. He looked at you, heavy lidded, his mouth glistening with the remnants of your slick. “May I?”
Please, please. He didn’t need to ask, you thought. You wanted him everywhere, wanted him on you, in you, all over you. Whatever he wanted was what you wanted. You lazily nodded, your tongue darting out again to wet your lips.
“Words, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured, placing hot and wet kissing along your thighs. His arms snaked under your thighs, hands reaching to grab your hips and pull you closer. He slowly peeled your drenched panties off your body. “I want to hear you.”
“Yes,” You finally managed to croak out. Your voice deep and needy. “Please, Cass.”
And then his tongue was on you, licking a stripe up your dripping sex. You let out a loud moan at the contact, at the feeling of his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your folds, dragging it slowly. Your hands found his hair and gripped it roughly between your fingers, your body curling around him. Cassian’s tongue dipped into your hole, darting in, again and again. Your legs trembled as stars began to cloud your vision.
“Cassian,” You choked out, feeling the building pressure in your stomach. You tried bucking your hips, but Cassian kept your thighs still, steady in a position where you couldn’t escape his wicked mouth. His tongue alternated between teasing your clit and slipping into your entrance. Your spined bowed in pleasure, and you brought one hand to your breasts, rubbing them and pinching at your nipples as Cassian ravaged you.
“You’re delicious. So fucking delicious.” Cassian crooned as he pulled apart from your cunt. He took a minute to admire the sweet image of you dripping in front of him, and then he dove back in. He let out a moan, quiet but still audible, and you noticed his other hand had removed itself from your thigh, now hidden from your view. As you looked, you saw it visibly moving, frantically, desperately. Cassian was eating you out and rubbing his own cock at it, pleasuring himself as he lapped at you. You moaned at the idea alone. The noises you made were loud, loud enough that you knew your family would hear if they were home already. But you didn’t care, you had no shame. Let them hear.
Cassian was murmuring into your core; he repeated something, the words falling from him like a prayer from a dying man. You were barely able to hear his whispers over the sound of your own blood rushing through your ears. Cassian pulled back a little then, heedless of your firm hold on his hair, watching you with his jaw set, eyes dark and greedy.
“Oh, Y/n,” he said huskily. “I could feast on this beautiful pussy forever, you know that?”
As he withdrew his mouth, he replaced its presence with his fingers instead. His thumb resumed the stimulation on your clit while his fingers moved inside your. When he slid another finger into you, your hips jumped, moving to meet his fingers faster. He curled his fingers into you as you rutted down harder. He groaned as your walls clenched when he curled his fingers, hitting a spot that had you whining his name. Your face contorted in pleasure and you let your head fall back. Cassian’s hand gripped at your thigh, calling your attention back.
“Down here,” He hummed, “Keep those pretty eyes down here.”
You brought your head back up, supporting yourself with your elbows. Cassian’s eyes stayed on yours as he lowered himself to your sex again, nustling his nose against your clit before he licked a stripe up your cunt, bringing his mouth to suck on your clit. You felt his fingers enter you again– one, then two. They brushed against you as he lapped at your clit, drawing circles with his tongue. You could barely breathe, the air leaving your lungs as Cassian filled your body with sweet, suffocating ecstasy. Your right hand found itself in his hair again, grabbing, pulling. He let out a groan at the feeling, and continued to lap at you.
You felt it everywhere, felt him everywhere. Pleasure gushed through your body, every part of your body sensitive. You writhed under him, your vision of Cassian growing blurry as you felt your pleasure build, coiling deep in your belly, ready to explode. You’re weren't sure what was up or down, forgotten where you were completely. Nothing existed except you and Cassian and the way he fucked you with his fingers and his mouth, and Gods, the thought of your reality alone made you want to cum. You grinded against his mouth, feeling as he grabbed you, pulled you closer, harder, against him, completely smothering him.
“Oh my Gods, yes, yes, yes.” The sounds you were emitting were music to his ears and Cassian continued.
The mixture of your pleasure, of Cassian’s grunts, his smells, of the way his wings twitched with each of your moans, made it even sweeter when Cassian brought another finger to your entrance. That tight, hot, built-up coil in your stomach loosened and you shriled loudly, your back bowing off the bed beneath you. Your whole body quaked as your orgasm rippled through you.
Cassian was in heaven— he was sure of it. You were a vision, your cheeks flushed, your lips parted as you moaned out in pleasure, your hard grasp in his hair. He felt every sound from your lips, every whisper of his name falling straight to his aching cock. Cassian, fuck, Cassian. You chanted them like a prayer and he swallowed them all. You were something holy, something absolutely divine and he felt himself losing it. He wanted to worship you forever, to stay buried in your cunt and die a happy man. Every man before him hadn’t appreciated you enough. He wanted to make you his, his beautiful creature, his goddess.
Cassian slowed his movements, but didn’t halter them completely as he let you work through the wave of your pleasure. Your hand had gone lax in his hair, and he took the opportunity to pepper kisses across your skin — across your legs, across your cunt, even the sweaty crook of your thigh, anywhere his lips could reach. The hand that once gripped your thighs so tightly softened. Cassian rubbed gentle circles around your skin. He waited, and only until your body stopped shaking and you let out a small content sigh between your ragged breaths did he remove his fingers from you.
He gave your core a slight smack and you let out a gasp, the action sending a spark throughout your body, leaving you aching and throbbing more than you had been seconds before. Cassian gave you a smirk.
“Holy fuck,” You breathed, looking at him with wide eyes. “Cassian…” You watched as he stood up, bringing his fingers to his mouth as he licked off your juices once more. Your gaze dropped to his chest, and then to his throbbing cock. He stroked it as he looked at you, and your core ached once more, clenching at the thought of him inside you. Cassian stared at you, lips parted, drinking the sight of you eagerly. You pushed yourself further up, scooting back enough to lie flat on the middle of your bed.
“You are a vision. A godsdamn vision,” Cassian spoke, the words falling off his tongue in a breathless confession, “Thought about this for so long.” He walked over to you.
You gulped at the admission, thinking back onto your own fantasies of him, of his hands, of his mouth. You blinked, watching as he braced his hands on the bed. “Yeah?”
Cassian nodded, bringing his hand to rub alongside your legs, tracing the curves of your body. As he crawled onto the bed, he let his hands wander with every movement. “Yeah, sweetheart.”
The nickname made your heart clench, and you felt your wetness building once again, your pussy still sensitive from your previous orgasm. “Tell me.” You whispered. He straightened himself, moving to hover over you. With one arm supporting his weight, Cassian rocked his hips against yours. He molded his other hand to your breasts, sucking in a deep, ragged breath. You arched into his touch, mewing for more. You felt your heart throb, a warmth enveloping your chest. You couldn’t breathe. All you wanted to feel was him, his hands, his skin, his touch. His touch cascaded down your body, grabbing at your thighs, pulling them closer to him.
“Rubbed myself raw at the thought of you underneath me like this.” He placed a kiss to your chest, quickly turning it into a small love bite, sucking at the skin tenderly. He released your skin with a brush of his teeth, bringing his fingers to softly touch the bruised skin. His fingers returned to your torso, teasing your nipples once more, bringing them between his fingers. He bent his head down and took one of your nipples into his mouth. You arched into him, letting out a sweet sound at the wet contact. Cass swirled his tongue around the hardened nub before gently tugging it with his teeth, causing you to let out a cry of pleasure that quickly turned into a whine when he lifted his head. He lightly blew on your nipple, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure as your nipple peaked harder, responding to the contrast of his hot mouth and the cool air. He repeated the same motions with your other breast.
You moaned as you felt him tease your entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing it against your clit and around your inner lips. You impatiently bucked your hips, trying to guide him where you wanted him, where you ached for him, but Cassian’s firm hand on your lower abdomen halted your movements.You looked up at him with frustration, frowning at the sly grin on his mouth.
“Cass, please,” You pleaded with broken whimpers. Cassian said nothing, moving his head down to kiss alongside your neck, taking your earlobe between his teeth. He teased you more, and in a movement of exasperation, fueled by the swelling and throbbing of your heat, you pulled him towards you by his neck. You placed your forehead against his, looking at him through heavy eyes. “Cassian, please fuck me already.”
Cassian gave you a wolfish grin. “Since you asked so nicely,” he said, bringing you in for another kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the kiss wet with desire and something more you couldn't place. Taking a breath and pulling apart, Cassian moved his hand to grab his cock, stroking it once, twice, before lining it up with your entrance.
You let out a deep moan as he pushed into you, feeling yourself stretching around him. Your previous climax had left you sensitive, so sensitive that the first rock of Cassian’s hips left you gasping for air. Cass let out a guttural groan, leaning his forehead against yours as he bottomed out. His hair clung to his forehead. You looked up at him, at his mouth open in pleasure, and ran your hands alongside his face.
“Fuck,” His breath fanned your face. He looked at you with that deep intensity in his gaze that stirred your heart. The next thrust was just as slow, Cassian pushing in as deep as your body would allow. “You, You feel fucking incredible.”
You closed your eyes, the sensations overwhelming you. But soon, Cassian’s voice snapped again, and you felt one hand grab your face, his hand holding your jaw, his thumb rubbing at your lips. “Look at me, beautiful.” He said, letting his thumb dip into your mouth.
You spread legs spread open to the sides as he began to vigorously slam into you with no restraint, never breaking the eye contact he'd so quickly grown to love. He drank it all in: the clapping noises of flesh and your sensual screams, the sensation of your wet heat wrapped around him, the sopping sounds of your love making, and the way your nails dug into his arms as he told you how good you felt.
You rolled your hips, pushing against his merciless rhythm of thrusts. Cassian looked down at where your bodies met, at where his cock filled you, entranced by the way your hips subconsciously tilted at the intrusion, at how your hole welcomed him. With a growl, he lifted your legs over his shoulders, positioning you perfectly for his rough, relentless thrusts. Your breath caught in your throat as your watched him fuck you, your heart pounding in her chest. “Cass, Cassian.”
“Keep saying my name, baby.” The pet name fell from his lips so effortlessly, caressing you like another wave of heat. “Tell me how good it feels.”
As he continued to move inside you, your thoughts jumbled into a mess of pure pleasure. You let out a string of incoherent words, your mind drunk on the feeling of him stretching you, hitting spots you’d never experienced before. “S’Good.” You whimpered. You wrapped your arms tighter across his shoulders, reaching to touch the delicate membrane of his wings. They twitched under your fingertips, and you felt Cassian let out a moan before the sound registered in your ear. He snaked a hand where your bodies met, finding your swollen, aching clit, and began to rub circles around it. You gasped.
“I wish I could be here forever,” Cassian groaned, his lips hovering over your ears, “Stay buried inside of your cunt. Fuck you like this for the rest of my life.” You didn't know if Cassian was aware of what he was saying, aware of what it implied, but you didn't care. It all felt so good, and his words made every stroke even more pleasurable. You wanted this, you wanted this for the rest of your life– you’d never experienced something this great, never known this level of pleasure could exist.
“Please, Cass. Please.” You didn't know what you were begging for, but Cassian hushed you, peckering kisses all over you, his head fell in the crook of your shoulder, moving to bring his teeth to the sensitive skin at your neck. You moaned. “Yes, yes. Mark me. I’m yours.”
Your words seemed to hit a part of him, forcing him to pull away and stare at you with wide eyes. He stilled inside of you. "Say that again," he commanded, his voice low and gravelly.
"I'm yours," you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. You brought your hands to his face, gently rubbing his cheeks. The tender, soft touch sent a shock straight to his cock, and he pulled you into a deep kiss. When you pulled apart for air, Cassian’s strokes began to pick up again, his forehead resting on yours. "Fuck me like I'm yours." You said to him, your voice filled with raw desire.
Cassian’s mind shuffled through the past two weeks, the memories of the bartender hitting on you, of the men who never satisfied you. He felt a primal possessiveness, a need to take you faster, harder, deeper. His thrusts became more aggressive, more forceful, his wings caressing you as they wrapped around both of your bodies. You cried out in pleasure, your body arching beneath him, hands gripping the sheets as you took him deep inside you.
He watched you, admired your body sprawled on the bed before him, his hands on your hips, holding you at just the right angle. His mouth salivated at your beautiful face, flushed and red, and the way your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts. The noise of your fucking was obscene - the soft squeaks of your bed, the wet sounds of your bodies slapping together, the moans and curse words and harsh breathing. His grip on your hips tightened and his thrusts became more erratic.
Cassian’s movements became faster than you could process– one moment, he was thrusting into you, and the next, he was picking you up, maneuvering you so that you were sitting on his thighs, looking at him as he leaned back. You gasped at the new angle, at the feeling of sinking onto him completely. His eyes locked on yours as you straddled him and his hands guided you up and down his cock, your bodies slick with sweat and desire.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping your ass, guiding you closer to him with each thrust. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, your pussy clenching around him as you rode him harder, faster, your body craving more. “Ride me just like that, sweetheart.” His voice rang in your head, making you dizzy. You arched forward towards him. One hand left your ass, going to grab one of your breasts, fondling with your nipple. His eyes were dark with desire, his gaze never leaving yours as he watched you take him deep inside you.
As you sank down onto him, his hips bucked up to meet you, your bodies connecting with a primal force. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, your pussy clenching around him as you moaned softly, your eyes closing in pleasure. But Cassian didn't want you to close your eyes. He wanted you to look at him, to see the raw fire in his eyes as he took you. He reached up, his hand wrapping around your throat, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp.
"Look at me," he growled, his voice rough like gravel. The sound itself made you clench around him as he fucked you. You opened your eyes, your breath catching in your throat as you met his gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with lust and possession, and you could feel your orgasm building as you looked at him. His hand tightened around your throat as he began to fuck you harder, his hips bucking up to meet you.
You felt his cock sliding deeper inside you, your pussy clenching around him, your body shaking with pleasure.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned, "Look at me. Let me see you fall apart on my cock."
As you felt the intensity of your orgasm building, he pulled you down, holding you to his chest, in place, as he continued to thrust into you. You moaned, your forehead resting against his, your eyes locked on his as he continued to fuck you, his cock sliding in and out of you. "Cassian, please, please, I'm so close," you whimpered, your voice hoarse. His hands gripped your ass roughly, pulling you closer to him, sliding deeper and deeper into you with each thrust.
You felt his heart pounding beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fucked you, his eyes never leaving yours. He stared at you as he whispered, "I've got you, baby. I've got you."
Your body trembled, your moans grew louder, and soon your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave– your body shook with pleasure, your pussy clenching around him, milking him. You gasped his name, your body convulsing over him, your sensitivity consuming you completely. You felt him tense, his cock swelling even more, and you knew that he was close as well.
His thrusts were rough and hard, each one sending waves of warmth coursing through you. Your body responded to his movements, your cunt massaging him, clenching around him, making him groan in response. He increased his pace, his thrusts becoming even rougher, sloppy, and more urgent. His hips moved in a frenzy, each thrust driving him deeper into you, his cock sliding against your most sensitive spots, making you moan with pleasure. You felt his balls slapping against your ass, the sound and sensation driving you wild, your hands grasped at him, at his shoulders, at his neck, at his hair.
You felt the tension building within him, his body tensing underneath you as he neared his climax. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you in place as he drove into you. You were certain he’d leave marks in their wake, that your hips, your thighs, your body would be bruised with the evidence of his touch. It made you feral.
Cassian’s breaths were ragged as he bucked into you roughly, a string of curses falling from his lips. Finally, he let out a low, primal grunt, his face contorted with pleasure as he came, his cum spilling deep within you. You felt the warmth of his seed filling you, the sensation making you shiver with pleasure. His thrusts became slower, gentler, as he tried to catch his breath, his body still trembling from the intensity of his orgasm. His grip on you loosened, and his hands began to rub up and down your spine, gently, softly, lovingly.
You both laid there for a moment, his cock still deep inside you. Pushing yourself up, you sat upright, Cassian letting out a groan at the feeling of him still inside you, your juices leaking between your legs and onto his skin. His hands rubbed at either of your thighs, both of you breathing heavily as you stared at one another— lips swollen, skin flushed, hair disheveled. You let out a deep breath and let your mouth fall open slightly.
“You are incredible.” Cassian breathed out, looking up at you, still entranced in your beauty. He admired the marks on your body from his mouth, and felt a small smirk growing on his lips. You let out a small exhausted laugh, your hands coming to rest at his shoulders, rubbing your thumb absentmindedly on his skin.
“So,” You said, still breathless, your voice raspy, “What now?”
