written for @polysjmweek Day 2 (Climate) /// AO3 ///
Summary: Rhysand arrives stormy. Helion sends him home glowing—with something for Feyre to discover later.
CW: explicit smut, soft feelings under hard cocks, chaos but make it caring, feral!rhys, soft dom!helion, dirty talk, sloppy bj, hand job, implied anal, explicit plans for creampies, inappropriate use of cloth napkin, creative misuse of daemati magic, Thigh Lord Helion has a giving praise kink
“Which meat do you want first? Lamb or lion?” Helion gestures pointedly at the dining table, then his lap.
Rhysand chuckles without humor, a dark, roiling cloud peeking through the perfect composure. “I see the wining and dining is reserved for when Feyre accompanies me.”
“I’m giving you the choice. Because I know how skilled you are at smooth talking. At playing the refined prince when you’re brooding inside. At appearing cool even when your cock is hot and needy.” Sunlight glints off his crown as he leans back in the oversized chair at the head of the table. A god relaxing on his throne. “Sit or strip. Your pick. No magic.”
The carefully crafted expression slips from Rhys’s face, revealing a stormy one that looks much more honest. He unbuckles his belt with a jerk. “Lion it is. How’d you know I just want to fuck it out?”
“Because I know you,” Helion says, “and Feyre tipped me off about an incoming thunderstorm.”
Rhysand yanks his pants and underwear roughly down his toned legs, stepping out of them, along with his shoes. His dick is half hard, like it can already feel Helion’s warmth.
Helion hums in approval. “I much prefer it when you’re not hiding yourself from me. You—and your delicious cock—are always welcome. Rain or shine.” He slides back from the table, thigh muscles flexing. “Come here.” He pats his lap.
Rhys steps closer, tugging at the sheer black gauze of his shirt.
“On second thought,” Helion says, “leave that on. You chose that slutty little number for a reason, and I see exactly what you were hoping would happen. Did you think that see-through fabric would escape my notice? You wear it so well even my cock is sitting up straight.”
Rhys stills. A smirk creeps across his face when he notices Helion’s eyes on him. When the sunny male winks, he perks up, twirling seductively to show off the garment.
Helion seizes the opportunity to make his lover feel good and starts encouraging him enthusiastically. Before long, Rhys is posing like a model on a catwalk.
Helion’s prompting grows wilder and Rhys’s actions become bigger and more playful. The High Lord of Day’s sunny energy is infectious and soon the tattooed male is going all out: winking, flipping his hair, strutting his stuff.
He snatches a satin napkin and uses it like a feather boa.
“Feyre’s missing out,” Helion says, “Look at you, the High Lord of Night, positively beaming. Plus, you look good enough to eat.”
Rhysand pins Helion’s gaze as he ties the napkin in a bow around his hard dick. He hits his hands and knees and crawls between Helion’s legs, purring, “I’ll have that lion now.”
Helion captures Rhys’s jaw in his large hand, firm but gentle, leaning down to kiss him deeply. “You are divine. I look forward to seeing our High Lady’s reaction at our next daemati viewing party.”
Rhys growls low and hungry and starts sucking Helion through the white fabric of his robe, leaving a trail of damp, darkened patches.
Helion groans, then grips Rhysand’s hair and tugs the male off of him. Gold meets violet. “I love your feral streak.”
Helion strips down to his skin. Rhys’s eyes never leave his shaft, hard and thick, as he sits back down.
“Give it all to me, Rhys. All that raw hunger and power. Let it loose. I can take it.”
Rhys pounces.
With Helion, he doesn’t have to be neat and refined. Doesn’t have to hold back. He spits, sucks, and chokes himself until tears meet saliva.
Helion talks him through it. Praises Rhys’s rough edges and carnal urges. Wants Rhys at his most authentic, even when it’s imperfect.
Helion isn’t afraid of his darkness.
“You seeing this clearly, Feyre? The way your pretty mate sucks me down so well? This male was born to worship both cunt and cock. Look at the way the spit shines on his skin like stars. Look at how he doesn't just suck the cock, but enjoys every second his tongue is touching it."
Helion pets Rhysand's hair reverently and groans low. "Truly divine. As if his cock was the one being sucked." His chuckle promises mischief. "Don't worry. The legend behind the wingspan will be given proper attention."
Helion's hand fists firmly in Rhys's hair, gripping at the root. "I’ll send him home to you empty and leaking in all the right places.”
Rhys moans around a mouthful of Helion. His hips snap forward but find only air.
Helion reaches down and wraps his large hand around Rhys’s throbbing girth, stroking slow and steady. “Get started on emptying those balls for me. You won’t be leaving until I fulfill my promise to your mate. And that’s going to require a lot of releasing between now and then.”
Rhys thrusts eagerly into Helion’s fist, mouth vibrating against the other male’s cock at the pleasure.
“There will be no more brooding when I’m done with you, Rhys—not once I pump you full of my sunshine.”
Helion suddenly cups Rhys’s aching sack.
“I’m going to drain your balls until the only cum in your body is mine.”
