Summary: You were his equal, his cauldron-blessed mate made to stand beside him in everything. Or, you thought you were. After a few choice words from your mate, your High Lord, you were not so sure anymore.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: Angst!!, miscommunication, issues with self-worth
a/n: Guys I literally cannot write so we are experimenting with Rhys! This will be a two-shot hehehe <3 love u thanks for reading!!
Part 2
Main Masterlist ♡
~~
To be completely and utterly truthful to yourself, you felt like you were drowning.
Being a High Lord’s mate often came with periods of stress, but the benefits typically outweighed the lows. When you would come home from a grueling day, Rhysand would be equally as tired, and the two of you would fall into bed together and sleep until the next day called. When you found yourself unable to take the pressure, he would be able to tell; the knock at your mind’s barrier would be unnecessary when compared to the connection of the bond. When Rhysand was the one slipping, you would be there, ready to hold him up and stand by his side.
But now, in light of everything, you were drowning with no end in sight.
You hadn’t taken the title on purpose; the honor of being High Lady seemed incongruent with who you really were. You’d fallen in love with Rhys as a healer’s apprentice and grew in ranks as your affection blossomed. It was a shock when the mating bond snapped, the connection forged in almost a decade of loving him. That love had been fragile, unsuspecting. The love of a mating bond was intense, filled with responsibilities.
You weren’t simply a healer any longer. You were a healer and a politician—a diplomat and a bringer of life. The pressure often weighed on you, but it was always manageable. Always worth it when you looked to your family and the love you were granted.
But now, Rhysand was looking at you with closed disappointment, and you weren’t quite sure how to handle that.
“I didn’t even know he would be there,” you repeated, fiddling with your fingers at your waist. “I would have prepared more. I would have—”
Rhys raised his hand, a sturdy desk separating you. His gaze tracked to the floor, and you began chewing at your lip, body wound tightly. Your mate blinked at the carpet.
“I thought we discussed this,” he replied evenly, breath coming out in a sigh. “If there were ever a time anyone from Spring was at a meeting or negotiation, you would leave. We don’t have any kind of relationship with that court. Not since—”
“I know,” you stressed, feet becoming antsy.
Rhys had never been disappointed in you before—not really. He was always tender and forgiving, understanding your role and the stress of the duality. Granted, you had never made an error quite like this one before, and Rhys was under a considerable amount of stress. You hadn’t seen him for longer than a few hours in weeks, the darkness rimming his eyes evidence of that. As you stood there, you came to the humbling realization that you did not feel like a team. You felt alone.
Rhysand’s jaw worked. He flicked his gaze back up to you. “Then why—” he started, “—did you make a deal with the emissary? It goes against everything we’ve discussed.”
Your shoulders slumped. “It’s more complicated than that. Dawn has been blocking resources we need because of their treaty with Spring, and they refused to budge without some semblance of peace. They said they wouldn’t be allied with either side of a war.”
“So the solution was for Night to ally with Spring?”
“I know how it sounds, but if you read the treaty I had written up, you’d see that it’s only—”
“There should be no treaty to begin with.”
“Rhys, there was no other way. The people of Night would have lost vital resources. Herbs and medicines and—”
“Are you not capable of making the medicines? Are you not the head healer of this court?”
Momentarily stunned into silence, you could barely feel the flicker of anger light within you. You jarred back as if pushed, unfamiliar with the man before you. You huffed out a breath, and then another. Rhysand remained stiff behind his desk, tire pulling at his hard expression.
With a confirming nod, you felt the sting of tears spring behind your eyes—whether from hurt or exhaustion, you couldn’t tell. “So I’m not doing that right either, then?”
Your mate flung a lackadaisical hand in the air. “Well, if we are lacking supplies.”
This time, your anger was more present. Your voice rose. “I am doing everything I can for this court. You weren’t there. You aren’t in the clinics. I am running myself ragged to ensure the betterment of our people.”
“My people,” Rhysand bit out. “These are my people. You made your stance clear when you didn’t want to be High Lady. When you didn’t want the responsibilities that went with the title.”
Your shock was like an ugly brand, heating your core until it simmered into a dull ache. You took in an effortful breath, some of your fight still remaining. “I didn’t want the title because it doesn’t mean anything to me. I am a healer first, not a-a ruler. But these are still my people. I still stand by your side.”
If Rhysand saw the hurt marring your face, he didn’t show it. He ran his palm along his jaw and stared up at the ceiling. A tick of silence passed. And then another. His features softened slightly, and when he looked at you again, his gentle eyes lulled you into a false sense of comfort.
“In truth, perhaps it’s better you didn’t take it,” he said, so quietly you almost hadn’t heard it. “It’s not you.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“You couldn’t handle it. Not as I do. Not equally.”
The insinuation was devastating. You remembered each of Rhysand’s careful words when you were mated—how you were his equal, his cauldron-blessed mate made to stand beside him in everything. He had spent countless nights murmuring the words against your skin and whispering them into your hair as he thought you slept.
And now he was going against those words; now he was using them against you. He must’ve been. He must’ve known what being his equal meant to you. It was why you worked so hard, why you went against every instinct and placed yourself in the role of a diplomat. He must’ve known, right? There was no better way to hurt you, and he was frustrated, angry, primed to want to lash out.
As you stood before him, once again silent, you considered that he had never meant those words. That he had repeated them, over and over, only because he needed to make himself believe. A mantra, of sorts, to help him grow accustomed to his weak-minded mate.
Your stomach turned, an unfamiliar dread rising in your gut. But maybe you always knew this was coming, because the dread wasn’t so unfamiliar. It had been smaller before, mitigated by Rhysand’s loving gaze, his touch, his assurance that he loved you and valued you and you were his equal.
Now, the feeling was ugly and raw. It was all-consuming, and there was nothing to quell it. This was the truth your mate believed.
You snapped a wall up to stifle the bond, unwilling to let Rhysand know how much this had hurt you. He reared back at the feeling, pressing his palm into his chest.
“What—”
“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you,” you stated evenly, swallowing hard. “I cannot undo the treaty I’ve had signed, but I will have it sent to the study so you can review it in its entirety.”
“Disappointed?” Rhysand repeated, beginning to round the desk with his hand outstretched.
You stepped out of his path. “If you find the terms of the agreement unsatisfactory, might I suggest sending Mor. She may be more equipped for the task of renegotiating.”
You felt him reaching on his side of the bond, your mate obviously unused to the silent echo. You were always so quick to offer him reassurances, proofs that you were alive and well. He often did the same, and it used to warm you. Now, you were sure the feeling would only add to the sickness you were experiencing.
Not equals.
Obviously, you were not equals, and you had been a fool to think otherwise.
Rhysand said your name, the sound rough and strained. When you didn’t offer him what he desired, he tried again. “I wouldn’t send Mor. I would send you.” He tugged at his roots. “I—I’m at a loss, darling. I don’t understand.”
“Well, I understand plenty. You’ve made your opinions quite clear.”
“Why did you close the bond?” he asked, desperate. As if he hadn’t just insulted that very connection.
“It’s not needed at the moment,” you offered. You were trying to sound detached, emotionless, but the hurt was crawling up your throat, making your words sound wet without tears. They would fall soon, and you needed to leave before that happened.
“Not needed—I’m sorry I was so hard on you. I was—Spring is a sensitive subject, but that is no reason for my ire. I’m sorry, darling. I can’t even—”
Rhysand stopped himself, a seemingly painful breath escaping his chest. You felt bad for a moment, a strong desire to throw yourself into his slightly outstretched arms and explain the hurt almost taking over, but you leaned into resignation instead. He would only lie again—tell you the words you wanted to hear that he so obviously did not believe.
“It’s alright,” you brushed off, swiping away a traitorous tear that punched another breath from Rhysand’s lungs. “I made a mistake. You are right to be angry.”
“No. No, you are right. I wasn’t there. You have supported me and this court through—”
“Just stop, Rhysand.”
Your resignation echoed, weaving through the next excuse he was going to make for you. Had it always been this way, your mate excusing your shortcomings? Or had he cleaned them up quietly, desperate for no one to see?
“Let me feel you again,” Rhysand eventually whispered, searching the planes of your face with hurried eyes. “Or let me in. I don’t understand what’s going on. I-I am truly sorry, my love. Let me fix this.”
You couldn’t meet his gaze, instead fixating on his hands that flexed and clenched into fists. You watched them twitch and pull away from his sides, but he didn’t reach for you again. He remained rooted in his spot, and you remained stagnant in yours.
“I think I just need to be alone.” To process this change, this truth. It felt dramatic after such a short argument—you’d had much louder ones with him before—but none had ever hurt this much.
Rhysand leaned his head down in your peripheral, seeking your eyes that you would not give him. “For how long?” he croaked.
You swiped at another tear. Rhysand’s knuckles whitened by his sides. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to go to the cabin?”
The cabin was his. Everything was his. His friends were yours. His court was your career. His people were not your people.
But healing was yours. You were a healer before him.
You shook your head, the threat of more tears imminent.
Rhysand took a hesitant step forward. “Will you tell me where you go?”
A beat of silence.
“Please.”
You sniffed, unable to open your mouth without a sob tumbling out. And then you winnowed out of the townhouse, only able to do such a thing because Rhys had deemed you family. Because he had deemed you worthy of the privilege.
You weren’t entirely sure that was the truth anymore.
• azriel only enters rooms after you; he waits, and always lets you take the initiative. after you sit down and get comfortable, he moves closer and stays nearby until the end.
• he watches you like someone remembering a dream, as if every glance were a small prayer.
• when you touch him — something simple like a light hand on his arm, or the brush of fingers — his shadows tense around him as if trying not to return the touch.
• he often has thoughts about you, as if he already had you. he thinks about how you’d look bathed in candlelight beside his bed. but then he hates himself for wanting you that way when he hasn’t even won your heart yet.
• he notices absolutely everything about you: the way you tuck your hands into your sleeves when you’re cold, the way you hum quietly when you’re lost in thought, how you look when you’re worried, happy, anxious. everything is noticed by his admiring gaze.
• his greatest fear is that you’ll choose someone else, and he won’t even have the right to be hurt.
• sometimes, he stands outside your door at night, not close enough to be seen, only close enough to know you’re safe.
• during meetings, when someone interrupts you or dismisses your opinion, he becomes still; his power barely contained. but his gaze is piercing, his shadows angry toward that voice he wishes he could silence just so he can delight in the sound of yours again.
• he dreams of you holding his hand without hesitation. saying that you see the worst parts of him, but choose him anyway.
Cassian
• cassian makes you laugh constantly, but inside, it hurts not being able to tell if it’s only friendship. if that’s all you see.
• he flirts as if it’s harmless, but his eyes always watch your reaction as if it matters more than anything.
• when you’re not around, he talks about you as if you’re already the center of his life. “she said something brilliant about that the other day, gods, she’s so intelligent...” and he ends up lost in affectionate daydreams about you and everything he loves and admires about you.
• he started wearing nicer shirts, slightly cleaner armor, neater hair just as a precaution, in case you notice (and you do.)
• he teaches you things — how to fight, how to fly, how to swear in three languages — not because you need it, but because it means spending time close to you.
• sometimes, he lets himself imagine; you in his bed, laughing beneath the morning sun. you sitting on the kitchen counter while he makes breakfast. he could spend the entire day lost in these imaginary moments with you.
• he tries not to feel jealous, after all, you’re only friends, but he fails constantly. the instant he catches azriel looking at you? or mor reaching her hand toward you? his stomach twists.
• if you’re tired, he notices first and will do the possible and impossible to help you with whatever you need. if you’re sad, he sits beside you and doesn’t leave.
• he looks at you as if saying, “i’m yours, completely, if you want me” and can hardly wait to say it out loud to you, without fear.
Mor
• mor watches you with silent amazement, as if she still can’t believe someone like you exists. she desperately wants to touch you — your hand, your cheek, the small of your back — but she never does. unless she knows you want it.
• when you’re laughing with someone else ( especially a man) mor turns away. she smiles and pretends it doesn’t shatter her while trying to avoid looking at you.
• she gives you small gifts: a warm cloak, a ring woven with silent protection, a piece of sunstone that she claims is “simply beautiful.” she never explains what they mean, but if you look a little closer, you’ll see that her heart comes with those gifts.
• she starts dressing differently when you’re together; softer fabrics, gold jewelry, a touch of vulnerability in her appearance. she wants to be seen, admired, but only by you.
• when she drinks too much wine, she almost confesses: “if you knew how beautiful you are when...” but she stops. always stops. and simply stares at you with eyes shining with love and longing.
• she writes your name in the margins of a journal. only once, but she keeps that page with her.
• every time you talk about the future, mor longs to ask: “can i be part of it?”
• she dreams of kissing you beneath the moonlight, but wakes before it happens.
• when she hears others talking about you — admiring you, wanting you — mor laughs politely. but inside, her heart breaks a little more.
Rhysand
• rhysand doesn’t flirt with you, not the way he does with others. he respects you too much to treat you like a game, and he wants you to know that he wants eternity with you, not just a moment.
• he becomes gentler around you; still intelligent, still powerful and perceptive, but with less sharpness, less mask, and more sensitivity.
• he watches how you move through a room; where you choose to sit, who you listen to, which subjects make your eyes light up. he notices everything.
• when you speak, he falls silent. even when others interrupt you, he never does.
• he starts writing again; poems, letters, fragments, and never sends them. you live in all of them.
• he doesn’t feel jealous, but he becomes quietly possessive. not controlling, but more attentive. when you talk to someone for too long, his jaw tightens and he analyzes every second of the interaction and how he can insert himself into it and have your attention again.
• when he talks to you in private, it’s never about power or politics, but about life. about your dreams, your past, what makes you feel alive. he wants to listen to you and know you like no one else does.
• he buys books, accessories, clothes, and anything he thinks you’ll like. he leaves them in your room without a note, but you know it was him.
• the idea of you choosing someone else doesn’t make him angry, it leaves him deeply empty.
• the first time you accidentally call him by a more affectionate nickname without title, without distance, he leaves the room, just for a moment, just to breathe.
• he hasn’t told you he’s in love with you, but his entire soul already has.
Lucien
• lucien falls in love quietly at first; not because he wants to, but because he learned that wanting something often means losing it.
• he memorizes you before anyone else does; the way you laugh at something you genuinely find funny (and how he catches himself smiling while watching you). the way you observe people when you think nobody is looking. he memorizes every detail and small things make him think of you; a beautiful song, an old but lovely book.
• his teasing becomes softer around you, less about getting a reaction and more about seeing you smile.
• he remembers every story you tell him, even months later, he casually asks: “how did that book end?” and you realize he had been listening the whole time.
• he gives you pieces of himself without realizing it; a favorite book, a special poem, a childhood memory. truths he never said out loud, but that he trusts you blindly to hold; he tells you stories late into the night. stories he normally keeps locked away.
• when you’re upset, he never pressures you. he simply sits beside you and waits until you’re ready. his presence is comforting.
• he starts looking for you unconsciously; in crowded rooms, at parties, even in places where he knows you won’t be. he’s always the first to turn his head whenever he hears your voice.
• his gaze lingers on you constantly, not possessively, almost melancholically.
• his greatest concern is that you deserve someone better than him. so he tries to improve, tries to change, tries to become someone worthy of your love.
• he would cross every court in prythian for you without hesitation.
Eris
• when he realizes he’s developing feelings for you, he actively avoids you for weeks. not because he wants to, but because eris knows exactly how dangerous love can be, and he doesn’t know if he wants to risk it — and risk you.
• around everyone else, he remains perfectly composed. around you, small cracks begin to form.
• he notices when you’re cold before you even realize it. a warm cloak appears around your shoulders. he pretends it wasn’t him.
• he memorizes your preferences with unsettling precision; your favorite wine, the books you reread, which flowers you admire during walks.
• nobody notices how often he watches you, but you do. and suddenly he doesn’t know what to do about it.
• his affection manifests in actions, never words; an obstacle removed before you ever encounter it, a problem solved before you know it exists.
• he becomes protective in almost imperceptible ways. if someone insults you, they often find themselves dealing with consequences they cannot explain.
• he respects your intelligence more than your beauty; your beauty unsettles him, but your mind captivates him.
• eris isn’t naturally gentle, but with you, something strange happens; his voice becomes lower, his temper calms, his hands become careful.
• he never assumes you need to be saved. he simply makes sure you always have a choice.
• he offers you honesty before he offers you affection. which, for eris, is the greatest gift.
synopsis: you and your mates are on a mission in the autumn court, camping out on the battlegrounds. unfortunately, horniness calls, and you need your mates who warn you not to test their patience…
a/n: okay so when i mention ‘the tent’ in this smut, i mean like the one in harry potter and the goblet of fire (fuck j.k. rowling though) where the tent is magical and looks ordinary on the outside but is HUGE on the inside and looks like a little house with big beds and tables and such <3 also, first time writing a threesome! lmk what you think!
tags: @high-lady-of-autum @pageezy45
You lay in the generous king-size bed in the tent you shared with your mates on the Autumn Court grounds.
You and Azriel were already snuggled up in bed, waiting for Rhysand to join you once he was done with his ‘High Lords Only’ meeting in Kallias’ tent.
Azriel lay behind you, spooning you into his body like the perfect cocoon. You felt his warm breath on your neck as he gave you gentle kisses and whispered ‘I love you’s’ in your ear.
One of his arms was extended for you to use his bicep as a pillow, despite the luxurious, plush pillows you had on the bed. His other arm was wrapped around your waist, squeezing you with reassurance now and again. Your legs were a tangle of long vines.
The breeze of the Autumn Court drifted through the tent, and you felt an overwhelming amount of love and gratitude for your life; that you had found not one but two mates who would give anything to keep you safe and smiling.
You started shifting in your mate's grasp, wanting to snuggle even closer into his body, even though you were already pressed against each other in your undergarments. It wasn’t enough. You needed his body to absorb yours, and then you’d finally be close enough.
“Stop wiggling,” Azriel mumbled groggily in your ear, sleep clearly creeping up on him.
“Sorry, I just wanna snuggle all close.”
“Your hips.”
“What?”
“Stop moving your hips.”
You realized you’d been wiggling your hips back and forth against his crotch in an effort to scoot into him more, and now, when you pressed back against him, you could feel the consequences of what you’d done.
It only made you want him more.
Azriel immediately noticed the shift in your scent and picked up on the arousal in your panties.
“Now look at what you’ve done,” he sighed.
“It’s not my fault!”
“It’s quite literally your fault.”
“Whatever…I want you,” you pouted.
“No. Not during missions. You know the rules.” He wouldn’t even open his eyes to look at you when you craned your head back to meet his gaze.
You started moving your hips in slow circles again.
“Pleaaaase, Az, I need you. Don’t you wanna feel me?” You reached an arm back and snaked it around his head, running your fingers through his black hair, then tugging it gently.
Azriel’s hips bucked forward slightly in response, and you suppressed a smile. He finally opened his hazel eyes to look at you.
“Of course I do. I always do. It’s just that now is not the time. There are fae I don’t fully trust surrounding us, and I have what you call my ‘Scary Spymaster’ reputation to uphold.”
“Oh, c’mon, Az, I’m sure the other High Lords and their emissaries will understand that everyone, even the Spymaster of the Night Court, needs to get laid.”
You heard him smile in your ear, then his demeanour hardened again.
“Sweetheart, I love you, but if you don’t stop moving your hips, I’m gonna have to ask you as the Spymaster, not as your mate.”
Joke's on him, that little ‘threat’ only made your panties soaked, and his throaty groan meant he knew it.
“Azriel,” you whined, not giving up on your desperate horniness, “please just fuck me.”
But he didn’t respond. You noticed his breathing still, so you stilled yours as well, and finally stopped moving your hips.
Darkness slid over the tent. You propped yourself up on one elbow and scanned the room as Azriel lightly chuckled.
“Maybe you’ll listen to him then.”
Rhysand stepped out of the shadows, looking directly at you with darkened, purple eyes.
“Do you know that I can smell how wet you are from Kallias’ tent?”
Your cheeks heated in slight embarrassment.
“Sorry, Rhys,” you knew how much he hated it when you teased him during meetings. At least this time it wasn’t your fault, right? It was unintentional. Maybe he’d understand that.
“And you,” he shifted his gaze to Az, who raised a furrowed brow, “you couldn’t keep it in your pants?”
Azriel huffed out a laugh and relaxed his face, leaning into the pillow.
“I told her, brother. I told her to stop grinding her ass into me, and our mate didn’t seem to want to listen.”
You were slightly intimidated, but also somehow getting more turned on. As much as you didn’t want your mates to be genuinely angry with you, you did want them to punish you in ways you’d all enjoy.
You tucked your elbow down to your side and leaned back into the nook between Azriel’s neck and shoulder, pulling the blanket up higher to your chin.
He turned his head to kiss your temple, as if sensing you needed to know they weren’t genuinely angry with you.
Rhysand began stalking towards the bed.
“Don’t cower now, darling, you weren’t afraid to disobey Azriel’s orders a moment ago.”
You gathered your confidence.
“I don’t have to take orders from him or you just because you’re my mates.”
“Of course not, darling, your mates can never tell you what to do,” he lowered his voice an octave, “but your High Lord sure can.”
You squeezed your thighs together in anticipation. Az moved his hand from your waist up to your stomach and stopped just beneath your breasts, which were covered by nothing but your thin, white tank top.
Once again, your hips began moving, but this time it was on instinct. You always shifted your hips around when your mates were getting you all hot and bothered.
Rhysand’s eyes went right down to the moving blanket.
“Cauldron. You won’t listen to your mate or your High Lord when they tell you to stop teasing? Darling, you know we can’t have that. If you can't keep still…we’ll have to make you.”
With that, he reached the foot of the bed and earned a yelp from you when he grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards him.
Everything happened so quickly with his fae abilities: the blanket was gone, your undergarments were gone, and you were flipped onto your hands and knees on the edge of the bed, looking at Azriel, who began shifting to the middle of the mattress, still lying on his back.
Your High Lord spoke from behind you:
“I know how much you love to fuck yourself on my dick,” it was true. Whenever your mates took you in doggy style, you loved moving your hips back to meet theirs, which is definitely why Rhys is punishing you like this, by not letting you move your hips like you so clearly loved to.
You heard him unbuttoning his pants behind you and rested your chin all the way down on the mattress.
“Look at you, so excited for your punishment. You’ve really turned into a proper whore haven’t you?”
You looked into Azriel’s eyes as you made an ‘mhm’ sound at Rhysand.
Azriel met your stare with intensity, then started inching towards you until your face was positioned over his dick. Then, his shadows swooshed around his underwear and took them off in a second.
He cupped your face in his rough hands and tilted your chin up at him. You felt Rhysand put his big hands on your hips, the tip of his dick sliding against your pussy.
Azriel said, “You’re gonna take everything we give you, and you’d better not move a fucking muscle.”
Rhysand slid into you, and you gasped for breath as he started fucking you at a steady pace, gripping your hips roughly to make sure you wouldn’t move them back onto him.
You weren’t fucking each other tonight. He was fucking you.
Azriel still held your face in his hands. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours.
“You can take it, sweetheart,” he said lovingly, “this is what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted dick so bad, and now you’re getting it, so I don’t know why you’re not saying ‘thank you’ to your High Lord.”
“Th-thank you, High L-Lord,” you panted out.
Rhysand slapped your ass, and as you opened your mouth to squeal, Azriel moved your face down to his lengthy dick and stuck it inside your gaping mouth.
You moaned around his dick as you sucked it, trying to look up at Azriel as he leaned back on both hands and let your mouth work on him.
“Good girl,” he rasped.
You felt overwhelmed with arousal and excitement. You knew your mates would never hurt you or make you uncomfortable, so it made you feel safe enough to indulge in things like this with them.
You moaned again as you felt your pussy getting wetter at the realization you were taking both of your mates’ dicks at once.
Rhysand slapped your ass again.
“You’re squeezing my dick so good, darling, keep staying still for me.”
You slid your mouth off Azriel’s dick to jerk him off, but Rhysand leaned forward and grabbed your wrists, crossing them behind your back and using them as leverage to rail himself into you even harder.
“Fuck Rhys, fuck!”
“Take it, you slut, fucking take it.”
Your eyes rolled in pleasure, and Azriel grabbed your face again.
“I didn’t say you could stop.” He moved your mouth back onto him, and you sucked him as hard and as fast as Rhysand was fucking you.
You saw Rhysand’s wing twitch in your peripheral vision, meaning he was close.
You wanted so desperately to push your hips back onto him, but you knew if you did, he wouldn’t let you cum for days, so you took what he gave you and kept lapping at Azriel’s dick, enjoying that you could at least move your head up and down on him.
Azriel leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes.
“What do you think, brother? Does she deserve our cum in her?”
Rhysand’s pace didn’t falter as he kept snapping his hips into you.
“She deserves to be filled up like the slut she is,” Rhys growled and slapped your ass again, making you moan.
Your moan sent Azriel over the edge, and he gripped your hair tightly as he spilled into your mouth, your tongue licking at every warm drop and swallowing it.
You came undone next, in unison with Rhysand, as you both moaned and rolled your eyes through your orgasm.
Rhys groaned as he filled you, leaning forward to brace his hands beside yours. His body swallowed you whole with love and lust.
The three of you caught your breath for a moment, then Azriel was pulling you off Rhysand’s dick towards him.
You slid right out from underneath Rhys; Azriel turned you around so you were on your back looking at Rhys, who still had his hands braced on the bed, and was looking at you like he wasn’t done with you.
It seemed like Azriel wasn’t done either.
He sat up against the headboard and pulled you between his legs and into his chest.
You sighed at the warm feeling of his body and leaned your head back on his broad chest.
He kissed the top of your head, then placed his long legs around yours and pried them apart. Rhysand’s cum was dripping out of you, and your pussy was sticky with it.
Rhysand growled deep and low. His purple eyes turned a navy violet. He brought his knees up to the bed and crawled towards you.
The entire world and the rest of the fae on the battlegrounds seemed to disappear. It didn’t even feel like you were in a tent anymore.
It felt like you were in some third space; in some secret pocket of the world where only you and your mates existed when you were intimate like this.
Azriel spoke and pulled you away from your thoughts.
“Sometimes I pray that you never learn to listen to instructions,” he said quietly.
You huffed out a laugh as Azriel brought hands to your breasts, squeezing and massaging them.
Rhysand still hadn’t said anything since he came. It was like he was in a trance, watching you restrained between Azriel’s legs with your pussy on display and leaking with the proof of his need for you.
He lowered himself between your thighs and placed his broad hands on them as he buried his gorgeous face into your pussy.
You moaned loud and raw, and your hands flew to his hair. Before you could grab it, Azriel’s shadows bound your wrists together.
You whimpered, and Azriel chuckled.
“Did you forget you weren’t allowed to move?” He taunted.
It was practically torture. Having Rhysand lick and suck and spit at your cunt and not being able to buck and circle your hips, not being able to grab and pull at his hair.
It was also practically torture having Azriel palm and pull at your breasts, and not being able to let your hands fly back into his hair, too.
He dipped his head and planted open-mouthed kisses and bites on your neck and behind your ear.
All you could do was moan and groan and whine and whimper repeatedly as your mates worked on you like this.
You could cum just looking at Rhysand like this. The High Lord of the Night Court, the most powerful High Lord in history, was enamoured with your pussy.
He was your mate, and the simplest things had him literally crawling towards you, sucking on you like it was his only mission in life.
You watched his back muscles and wings as they moved and twitched with the movements of his head in your heat and his arms running up and down your thighs.
He moaned against your pussy, and you moaned in response, remembering he was also tasting his own cum spilling out of you.
“Please,” you whimpered, “please, Rhys. I wanna cum.”
He ignored your request entirely and kept working on your pussy. You needed more.
“Please,” you tried again, “please put your tongue in me, Rhys.”
But it was Azriel who answered with a simple, “No.”
Azriel moved his hands to your hips and lifted you like you were just another pillow on the bed.
Rhysand shot him a glare, like he was angry at him for taking your sweet cunt away from his lips.
Azriel held you up as he leaned his hips forward ever so slightly and lowered you right onto his long, hard dick.
Both you and Azriel let out a throaty moan the entire way down.
Now you were back in the same position as you were seconds before, this time with Azriel filling you.
He returned his hands to your breasts, which left you confused: if you weren’t allowed to move your hips up and down on him, and he wasn’t going to pull your hips up and down on him, then how was he going to fuck you?
You got your answer when Rhysand nuzzled his face back into your cunt, and hooked his hands beneath your thighs. He started lifting you up and down on Azriel’s dick, his mouth latched firmly onto your clit.
Azriel moved one hand around your throat and pulled your head back to look at him.
“Are you enjoying this, sweet girl?”
You were so far gone in your pleasure that you struggled to answer coherently.
“Y-yes, Az.”
“What’s that baby? I can’t understand you when you mumble like that. Speak up.” He asserted.
You took a shaky breath and pushed out more coherent words.
“Yes, Az, I love it.”
“You love what?”
“I love being punished by my mates.”
He pulled your head up even further and leaned down to place sloppy kisses on your lips.
“Yes, you do, you little slut. What do you say to your High Lord for treating you so nicely?”
You moved your eyes towards Rhys who was so pussy-drunk you didn’t even know if he could hear you.
His eyes were glossy, and his tongue was licking desperate circles around your clit as his toned arms never slowed their pace while he fucked you on Azriel’s dick.
“Th-thank you, High Lord.”
Azriel squeezed your throat tighter.
“Thank you for what?”
“F-fuck, thank you for t-treating me s-so nice, High Lord.”
It turns out Rhysand could, in fact, still hear you. He moved his tongue off your pussy and brought his face to yours.
“You needed it, darling. You needed to be treated like the desperate whore you are, so you’ll finally fucking sit still in here and let your High Lord do what needs to be done out there.”
He grabbed your face out of Azriel’s grasp and pulled you towards him.
He sat back on his knees, and you were now leaning forwards on yours, sliding slightly off of Azriel’s dick, but he gripped your hips to keep you from moving completely off him.
You could smell and see the wetness from your cunt all over Rhysand’s mouth and chin.
“Are you ready to cum again?” Rhysand asked.
“Yes.”
He slapped you lightly on the cheek.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, High Lord, I’m ready to cum again.”
“Good slut,” he finished before smashing his mouth onto yours and shoving his tongue so far in your mouth it was nearly touching the back of your throat.
You tasted yourself and him on his tongue and in his mouth as Azriel started roughly pulling your hips up and down on his dick.
You yelped out a moan, and Rhysand took your gaping mouth as an opportunity to spit inside it. You swallowed his spit and stuck your tongue out in invitation for more.
“Cauldron, you’re fucking insatiable,” he said as he held your face tightly between his hands and spit in your mouth two more times before moving his thumbs under your jaw to shut your mouth and make you swallow once more.
Azriel was gripping and slapping your ass as he bounced it up and down on him. He groaned at the sound of your wet pussy sliding up and down on him, and the clapping noise it made whenever your ass met his hips.
“Please, can I please cum?” You asked none of your mates in particular.
Azriel responded first.
“Cum on my dick like the slut you are, baby. I’m gonna get you all nice and full of my cum.”
He snapped your hips down onto him with unapologetic roughness a few more times before you felt him spill inside you with a loud groan.
You met his orgasm with your own and shuddered on his dick as Rhysand held eye contact with you through your orgasm.
Your body felt limp and drained. Azriel slid himself out of you, and you immediately felt his cum slide down your thighs.
You let yourself fall forward against Rhys, who scooped you up bridal style.
He moved towards the headboard beside Azriel, and they both leaned against it while you were still in Rhysand’s arms, cradled against his chest and stretching your long legs across Rhys and onto Azriel’s lap. He lovingly ran his hand up and down them.
“Shhh,” Rhysand whispered as he kissed your forehead. Azriel kissed your ankles.
“Are you okay?” Azriel asked.
You smiled and nodded sleepily.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you told me to stop moving Az.”
Rhysand’s chest moved with quiet laughter, and your upper body moved with it.
“No, you’re not, darling,” he said softly and squeezed you a little tighter in his arms.
It was your turn to laugh now, and you said, “No, no, I’m not.”
Azriel started giggling too, and you fought the urge to kick your feet and squeal in excitement at how much you loved these males.
“I love you both. More than anything.”
“We love you too, sweet girl,” Azriel said.
“We really do, darling,” Rhysand added and kissed your forehead again.
After a few moments of silence, you felt yourself falling asleep on your High Lord's chest.
You were half-asleep when Rhysand scooped you up gently and placed you in Azriel’s lap. He kissed your cheek and whispered something about having to return to his meeting.
Azriel held you close in his arms and gently rocked you back and forth.
“No shenanigans when we go to sleep this time, understand?”
You nodded your head.
“Words, baby.”
“Yes, Az, no shenanigans, I promise.”
“Good girl,” he whispered, and kissed your nose.
You were too fucked-out to even think about going another round. So you absorbed Azriel’s warmth and kept your eyes shut, falling asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.
You woke up to a bright, warm, quiet tent. The first thing you noticed was that you weren’t in Azriel’s arms anymore.
You rolled over, hoping to find him sleeping peacefully beside you, but you were equally pleased to be met with Rhysand instead.
You admired how beautiful he looked while resting. It made him look soft and boyish.
His lips parted slightly.
“You’re staring,” he said groggily, without opening his eyes.
“I’m gazing,” you countered.
“It’s creepy.”
“It’s romantic.”
He smiled and opened his eyes, which were a completely different shade of purple than they were last night.
“Where’s Az?” You questioned.
Rhys stretched an arm out, inviting you into his chest. You happily accepted and scooted into him, draping an arm and a leg over his body.
“I sent him out to do some Spymaster work.”
You made a ‘hmph’ sound and pouted. Maybe it was greedy, but you wanted to fall asleep and wake up with both mates each day and night, and with all the wars on the brink of Prythian, things were getting messy and disorganized.
Rhysand sensed your discomfort and moved the free hand that was behind his head, wrapping it around you instead and pulling you right atop him.
“Darling, it’s okay. It’ll all be over soon, and we’ll go back to Velaris and never leave.”
You really hoped that was true.
You lifted your head and looked at him.
“I love you.”
“I love you,” he placed a long, slow kiss on your lips that conveyed everything words couldn’t.
“You want to sleep in a bit more before Az gets back?” He asked.
You nodded eagerly and rolled off his chest and onto your side. A silent invitation for him to spoon you.
He happily accepted the invitation and nuzzled his frontside against your backside.
You sighed in contentness and Rhysand did the same, his warm breath sending shivers down your body, and right to your pussy.
Not again, you thought. You couldn’t help it. Literally everything Rhys did turned you on.
You decided to be bold and moved your hips around slowly.
“More already?” Rhysand asked.
You nodded shyly.
“Alright, darling, but you know…I’m exhausted from all the hard work I put into making you cum last night.”
You waited to see where he was going with this.
He rolled you both over, and you sat up, now in the reverse cowgirl position.
You wanted to turn around, but he held your hips in place and started rocking them back and forth. His already hard dick pressing against your clit perfectly.
Then he put his hands behind his head, watching your plump ass rub and roll against him.
You kept moving, and then you realized what he wanted this time.
You craned your head back to look at him. A cheeky smirk was already planted on his face.
“You want me to do all the work this time, don’t you?”
He nodded; the same smug expression on his face.
“This time, I’ll be the one staying still.”
You matched his smirk with one of your own and started rolling your hips again.
summary: three hundred years of marriage, and Y/N has never once doubted that Rhysand loves her. She's just started to wonder if love is enough to survive what the crown keeps taking from them.
series masterlist
Cassian found him still on the cold stone steps of the House of Wind, wings mantled loosely around himself, shoulders shaking with the particular silent, wrecked crying of someone who'd stopped caring whether anyone saw.
"Rhys." Cassian crouched in front of him, hands landing firm on his shoulders. "Rhys, look at me. Stand up."
Rhysand shook his head, not looking up, voice thick and broken. "I can't."
"You can. Come on." Cassian hauled him upright with real effort, and Rhysand let himself be moved, unsteady on his feet, wiping uselessly at his face with the back of one hand.
"What happened?" Cassian's voice had gone careful now, real concern bleeding through the usual easy warmth. "Rhys, what the hell happened?"
"She left me." The words came out hollow, disbelieving, like saying them out loud made them somehow more real and less real all at once.
Cassian went very still. "What?"
"She left me, Cass." His voice cracked entirely. "She told me she needed time, and I—"
"And you let her go?"
"What the fuck was I supposed to do?" Rhysand's voice rose, raw and desperate, some of the numbness cracking into something sharper. "Chain her to the wall? She was sobbing, Cassian, she could barely stand there and look at me—"
"You beg her, idiot!" Cassian's own voice had risen now, disbelief and frustration tangled together. "You get on your knees and you tell her you're sorry and you don't let her walk out that door!"
"I did." Rhysand's voice broke entirely, and he dragged both hands down his face, exhausted. "I did, Cassian, I got on my fucking knees and I begged her, I cried, I told her I'd change anything, everything, whatever she needed — and then I felt it. Through the bond. How she actually felt. How long she'd been feeling like that. And I realized I didn't have the right to keep begging her to stay in something that was hurting her this badly."
Cassian had no immediate response to that, jaw working, something complicated crossing his face.
The door behind them creaked, and Mor stepped out onto the landing, taking one look at Rhysand's face, red-eyed, hollow, utterly wrecked, and going very still herself.
"Oh," she said, quiet.
A moment later, Azriel appeared behind her, taking in the scene with the same careful, assessing stillness he brought to everything, and something in his expression shifted, settling into grim understanding.
"So she actually did it," Azriel said, quiet. "Didn't she."
Something in Rhysand snapped.
"You knew?" His voice cracked through the landing, sharp and disbelieving, rounding on both of them at once. "You knew this was coming?"
Silence answered him, and that silence was answer enough.
"You knew," Rhysand said again, and this time it came out low, dangerous, something dark bleeding into the edges of his power as he crossed the distance toward Azriel. "You piece of shit, you knew and you said nothing—"
Cassian stepped bodily between them before Rhysand could close the last of the distance, hands up, voice sharp. "Hey — hey, calm down. Calm down, Rhys."
Azriel hadn't moved, expression carefully neutral despite the fury radiating off Rhysand. "I didn't know for certain. I suspected it might happen eventually. There's a difference."
"That's not a fucking difference, Az, that's—"
"I did," Mor cut in, flat, and every head turned toward her at once.
Rhysand went very still. "...What?"
"I knew." Mor's voice was steady, unflinching, none of her usual warmth in it at all. "I've known for months this was coming. She's my best friend, Rhys. Of course I knew."
"Then why the fuck didn't you say something to me?" His voice cracked, something between fury and devastation.
Mor's expression didn't soften even slightly. "Because I think you deserved this, Rhysand. At least a little."
"Mor—"
"And I think everyone deserved for you to actually feel it," she continued, cutting straight through whatever protest he'd been building, "instead of getting a convenient warning that would've let you fix things just enough to avoid the consequences one more time."
Silence fell over the landing, heavy and absolute.
"I think everyone thinks that," Mor added, quieter now, and something about the quiet made it land harder than the sharpness had. "All of us. We're the ones who watched you slowly destroy her, piece by piece, over the last four years. We're the ones who had to distract her. Reassure her. Promise her that everything would work itself out eventually."
Rhysand stared at her, something collapsing behind his eyes.
"How many parties did you skip, Rhys?" Mor's voice had gone hard now, relentless. "How many family dinners did you leave halfway through because someone needed you? How many dates with your own wife did you cancel because some crisis, real or manufactured, pulled you away at the last second? We all watched it happen. Every single time. So I genuinely don't understand what part of this is confusing to you."
"I—" Rhysand's voice had gone thin, cracked. "I didn't realize—"
"You didn't realize because you never looked," Mor said, flat. "You never once stopped to actually see what your own household was going through around you."
Cassian shifted, uneasy, one hand resting briefly on Rhysand's shoulder in something that felt half like comfort and half like restraint.
"Do you know how many times she cried with me?" Mor asked, and her voice had gone rougher now, some old, accumulated grief of her own surfacing. "Every single Rita's night you missed. Every single dinner you canceled, she'd call me, so we wouldn't lose the reservation, and she'd sit there across from me and cry, Rhys, in the middle of a crowded restaurant, trying to smile through it so nobody would notice. You think nobody saw that? You think nobody noticed the mate of the High Lord of the Night Court sitting alone in public, wiping her eyes when she thought no one was watching?"
Rhysand said nothing, tears he'd thought he'd already spent all of gathering fresh in his eyes.
"Everyone's been talking about it for years, Rhys," Mor pressed on, relentless now, every word landing like a blow. "Not maliciously. Just — quietly. Sadly. Wondering when she'd finally leave you. You want to know how humiliating that is? To have your own court, your own people, watching your marriage fall apart in slow motion while you're too busy to even notice it's happening?"
"Mor—" Cassian started, gentler, some old protective instinct toward Rhysand kicking in despite everything.
"Let me finish." Mor didn't so much as glance at him, eyes fixed on Rhysand, unrelenting. "Do you know how many nights she showed up here, Rhys? Here, at this house, in the middle of the night, because you were still buried in work doing gods know what, and she didn't want to be alone in that enormous house you built her? She'd knock, and I'd let her in, and she'd cry in my arms until she fell asleep, and I'd carry her to bed myself because you weren't there to do it. Us, Rhys. Not you. Never you."
The silence that followed felt physical, crushing.
"So don't," Mor said, quieter now, though no less absolute, "don't you dare stand here and act furious with us for knowing something you should have known yourself. This is not our failure. This is yours."
Rhysand stood there, utterly hollowed out, Cassian and Azriel both silent beside him, neither offering a single word of defense.
Mor exhaled, some of the sharpness finally bleeding out of her posture, replaced by simple, bone-deep exhaustion. "I'm going to go check on her now. Don't you dare show up there, Rhysand. I mean it."
She left without waiting for a response, and the three males left behind stood in silence for a long moment, none of them quite able to look at each other.
"I really fucked up, didn't I," Rhysand said finally, voice hollow.
Neither Cassian nor Azriel answered right away, and their silence was, somehow, more damning than anything Mor had said.
"...Yeah," Cassian said eventually, quiet. "Yeah, Rhys. You did."
Rhysand sank down onto the steps again, head in his hands, and Cassian sat beside him, wordless, some old brotherly instinct simply refusing to leave him entirely alone even now.
"Why didn't either of you say anything," Rhysand asked eventually, muffled against his palms. "You're supposed to be my brothers. Why did you let this go on for four years without ever—"
"We tried," Azriel said, quiet, and something in his voice made Rhysand actually look up. "Gods, Rhys, we tried. All of us. Even Amren tried, once, in her own way, told you outright you were being an idiot about scheduling that trip during her birthday. You barely registered it. You were so buried in work you didn't even hear us half the time."
Rhysand said nothing, the truth of it settling heavy and undeniable.
"I lost her," he said finally, voice cracking, staring at nothing. "I lost her. My partner. My best friend. My wife. My mate. I lost her."
"Then get her back," Azriel said, simple, absolute.
Rhysand looked up at him, something fragile and desperate flickering behind the devastation.
"You lost her," Azriel said again, quieter now, "but that doesn't mean it's over. Go get her back, Rhys. Change. Actually change, this time, not for a week, not for a grand gesture, but for real. Do whatever it takes. But get her back."
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Mor found Y/N in the cabin exactly as she'd expected, curled on the small couch in an old, oversized shirt, an empty wine bottle tipped over on the floor beside a half-full glass, mascara streaked down both cheeks from hours of crying.
"Oh, honey."
Y/N looked up, and the sight of Mor's face, familiar, warm, entirely without judgment — broke whatever thin composure she'd been clinging to, fresh sobs wracking through her all over again.
Mor crossed the room immediately, sinking onto the couch beside her and gently prying the wine glass from her hand, setting it well out of reach on the small side table.
"What did I do?" Y/N choked out, curling into Mor's side. "What the fuck did I do, Mor? Why did I do that?"
"Shh." Mor wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close, one hand smoothing gently through her hair. "You didn't do anything wrong, love. You hear me? Nothing wrong."
"I left him." Fresh tears spilled over, hot and miserable. "Three hundred years, Mor, and I just — I left."
"You needed to."
"Did I?" Y/N pulled back slightly, eyes red and swollen, voice cracking. "Because right now it doesn't feel like I needed to do anything except call him and tell him I made a mistake."
"You are not calling him." Mor's voice left no room for argument. "You are not opening that bond tonight, and you are not undoing four years of finally standing up for yourself in one drunk, lonely evening."
Y/N pressed both hands over her face, shoulders shaking. "I miss him. Which is insane, because I barely even saw him when we were together. But I miss him anyway. Isn't that ridiculous?"
"It's not ridiculous." Mor's voice gentled, pulling Y/N back down until her head rested against Mor's lap, fingers carding slow and soothing through her hair. "You loved him for three hundred years, love. Missing him doesn't disappear just because you finally made the right choice."
"But the fact that I won't see him at all now." Y/N's voice cracked further. "Not even for a second. Not even in passing. It hurts so much more than I thought it would."
"I know, sweetheart." Mor kept stroking her hair, steady and patient. "I know it does."
A long, quiet moment passed, nothing but Y/N's slow, hiccupping breaths and the crackle of the small fire Mor had started in the hearth.
"Do you think he misses me?" Y/N asked eventually, small and uncertain.
Mor let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Does he miss you? Honey, he nearly went for Azriel's throat tonight just for confirming you'd actually left. He's a wreck. An absolute, catastrophic wreck."
Something in Y/N's chest ached at that, guilt and longing tangling together painfully. "Oh gods. I can't do this, Mor. I need to see him, I need to apologize, I need to—"
"Honey." Mor's voice cut through, gentle but firm. "We are not doing this again."
Y/N fell quiet, listening.
"You are going to wait," Mor continued, "at least a year before you go back to him."
Y/N shot upright so fast she nearly knocked heads with Mor. "A year!?"
"I'd wait twenty, if I were you." Mor shrugged, entirely unbothered by the outrage on Y/N's face.
"Mor, I was literally planning on going back to him by next week—"
"No." Mor's voice had gone flat, absolute. "No, love. A week is nothing. Nothing. You need to give this real time. Eight months, at least."
"Eight months—"
"Fine." Mor considered, tapping one finger against her chin like she was doing complicated math. "Six."
"One month," Y/N tried, desperate.
"Absolutely not."
"...Three?"
Mor studied her for a long moment, clearly weighing it. "Three isn't terrible," she allowed finally, grudging. "It's not good.But it's not terrible."
Some of the tension eased slightly from Y/N's shoulders, small and grateful for even that concession.
"But," Mor added, sharp again, "if three months pass and Rhysand hasn't actually changed, not promised to change, not said he's changed, but genuinely, demonstrably changed, you wait the full year. Or longer. I mean it, Y/N. I'm not watching you go back to exactly what you just escaped."
Y/N nodded slowly, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. "Okay. Three months. If he actually—"
"If he actually," Mor confirmed, gentler now, pulling her back into a hug.
They sat together a while longer, the fire slowly burning lower, and eventually Mor pulled back, studying Y/N's exhausted face with real tenderness.
"You should sleep," she said softly. "You look wrecked, love."
"I don't know if I can." Y/N's voice had gone small again. "Knowing he's not coming. That he's never — that this is just how it is now. I don't know how to fall asleep with that."
"Do you want me to stay?"
Y/N nodded, small and grateful. "Please."
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Rhysand didn't go back to their house that night.
He tried, briefly, winnowing to the entryway with some vague, desperate idea of sleeping in his own bed for the first time in what felt like forever, and made it as far as the front hall before the weight of the empty house crashed over him so completely he winnowed straight back out again, unable to breathe through it.
He ended up in his old rooms at the House of Wind instead, the ones he'd barely used in decades, and found no relief there either. Their bed. Their bathroom, where she used to help him clean the ache from his wings after long missions, careful fingers working oil into scarred, sensitive membrane while she hummed something under her breath. The small terrace where they'd made love more times than he could count, laughing between kisses, utterly unhurried, back when unhurried had still been something they knew how to do.
Everything in the whole house whispered her name.
He lay awake staring at the ceiling until dawn, and when morning finally, mercifully arrived, he made a decision that felt, in the moment, like the only logical one available to him.
I'll fix this, he thought, already rising, already reaching for his coat. I'll show her exactly how much she means to me. I'll make this right.
"Lord," came a voice from his study a while later, some junior court official poking his head in with an armful of papers. "You're going to be late for the—"
"Cancel it," Rhysand said, already halfway out the door. "I'm not going."
"...Cancel the trade negotiation with the Autumn Court, my lord?"
"Cancel all of it." He didn't even slow down. "Reschedule everything for the next week. I have somewhere I need to be."
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
Velaris in the early morning was quiet, golden light spilling soft over rooftops still damp from overnight rain, and Rhysand walked the streets alone, wingless in his travel cloak, blending as best he could into the ordinary rhythm of a city that had no idea its High Lord's whole world had just fallen apart.
He found himself, within the hour, standing outside the finest jeweler's in the Rainbow.
The proprietor's face lit with immediate, genuine delight the moment he recognized who'd walked through his door. "My lord! It's been far too long. Please, please, come in." He was already ushering Rhysand toward the back counter, practically vibrating with excitement. "Is there some occasion? Something special for your beautiful mate?"
Something in Rhysand's chest ached sharply at the question, though he made himself smile, made himself nod. "Yes. I'm looking for the best you have."
"Of course, of course—" The jeweler was already pulling out tray after tray, gold and gemstones glittering under the morning light, and Rhysand found himself nodding along to descriptions he barely registered, eyes catching, eventually, on a necklace so ornate, so obviously expensive, that it seemed to physically radiate the exact kind of grand, thoughtless extravagance he'd apparently, without meaning to, made the entire foundation of his marriage.
"That one," he said, pointing, and didn't ask the price.
From there he made his way to a florist, purchasing the largest, most elaborate bouquet the shop could assemble, deep red roses interwoven with something rare and fragrant he didn't recognize, and then, finally, to a small wine merchant tucked away near the harbor, where he selected a bottle he remembered her once mentioning, years ago, some passing comment about a vintage she'd loved on their honeymoon that he'd apparently, somewhere beneath four years of neglect, still managed to remember.
He gathered it all — the necklace, the flowers, the wine — and winnowed to the mountains, standing outside the cabin with his arms full, heart hammering, entirely convinced, in the desperate, uncomplicated logic of a male who had never once had to properly earn anything back before, that this would be enough.
He knocked.
Nothing.
He knocked again, harder.
Still nothing.
He knocked a third time, and this time the door swung open — not to Y/N, but to Mor, hair mussed with sleep, eyes narrowing to slits the moment she registered who stood on the other side.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see my mate."
"I told you not to come, Rhysand!" Her voice had sharpened instantly, fully awake now. "She doesn't want to see you."
"Is that her saying that," Rhysand said, low, "or you deciding it on her behalf?"
Mor's jaw tightened. "...A little of both, maybe."
"Let me in, Mor."
"No."
"Let me in, or I swear to the Cauldron I will—"
"Rhys?"
Both of them went still.
Y/N stood a few feet back in the small entryway, wrapped in a blanket, hair a mess, eyes swollen and red-rimmed from a night of crying she clearly hadn't fully recovered from — and Rhysand felt something in his own chest crack at the sight of her, some small, bitter part of him almost grateful, in that moment, that he wasn't the only one who'd spent the night falling apart.
"Y/N," Mor started, half-turning, "honey, go back to bed, this brute is just—"
"It's fine, Mor." Y/N's voice came out quiet, steady despite everything. "I've got this."
Mor hesitated, glancing between the two of them with obvious reluctance, but finally, grudgingly, stepped back, retreating into the cabin and leaving the two of them alone on the porch.
Rhysand drank her in properly now, exhausted, hungover, clearly having cried for hours, and found, despite everything, that he still thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"You look beautiful," he said, quiet, entirely sincere.
Y/N huffed something that wasn't quite a laugh, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. "I look hungover, Rhys."
"You always look beautiful."
"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Her voice had gone careful, guarded in a way that ached to hear.
"I canceled the meeting."
Something flickered across her face, surprise, maybe, or something more complicated. "...Just for this?"
"And to think," he added, quieter now, "about what I've done. About everything you said last night."
She studied him for a long moment, something unreadable behind her exhausted eyes, and then her gaze dropped to the armful of gifts he was still, somewhat awkwardly, holding.
"What is all this?"
He held them out, suddenly self-conscious in a way he rarely let himself feel. "For you."
She took the necklace box first, opening it slowly, and something in her expression went carefully neutral as she took in the elaborate, glittering thing inside.
"Rhys—"
"There's more," he pressed on, quick, nervous in a way he hadn't been in centuries. "The flowers, and — I remembered you mentioned this wine once, from our honeymoon, and I thought—" He held the bottle out, something almost desperate in the gesture. "I thought maybe tonight. The two of us. No work, no interruptions, just — a real date, darling. What do you say?"
Something in Y/N's face shifted, and it took him a moment to recognize what it was.
Pity.
"Rhys," she said, gentle, careful in the particular way people are careful with something breakable. "You didn't have to do any of this."
"I wanted to."
"I know." She set the necklace box down carefully on the small table by the door, not accepting it, not quite rejecting it either. "But this isn't — Rhys, this was never the problem."
"I don't understand."
"I know you don't." Something tired and sad crept into her voice. "That's kind of the whole issue."
He felt something cold settle in his stomach. "Y/N—"
"I don't need jewelry, Rhys." Her voice had started to shake, some of the careful composure cracking. "I never needed jewelry, or flowers, or expensive wine. Do you understand that? I have never once, in three hundred years, needed things from you."
"Then what do you need," he asked, desperate now, "because I will give you anything, love, whatever it is—"
"I needed you." Her voice cracked entirely, tears spilling over again despite how clearly exhausted she was of crying. "Just you, Rhys. Your time. Your attention. A hundred small, boring, ordinary moments instead of one enormous, expensive gesture meant to make up for years of absence. That's it. That's all I ever wanted."
He stood there, arms still half-full of flowers and wine, feeling every single one of those objects suddenly, sickeningly ridiculous in his hands.
"You can't buy your way out of this," she continued, voice shaking but relentless now, four years of accumulated hurt finally finding somewhere to go. "You can't show up here with the most expensive necklace in Velaris and expect that to erase years of empty chairs and canceled dinners and me crying alone in restaurants because you couldn't make it. That's not how this works, Rhys. That's not how any of this works."
"I know." His voice had gone hollow, devastated. "I know, darling, I just — I didn't know what else to—"
"That's exactly the problem." She wiped roughly at her face, some of the fury draining into simple, bone-deep exhaustion. "You still don't understand what actually broke, Rhys. You think this is fixable with a gesture. It's not. It never was."
They stood there in silence a long moment, the flowers still clutched uselessly in his arms, and finally Y/N pulled the blanket tighter around herself, something final settling into her expression.
"I should go make breakfast," she said, quiet.
Something in Rhysand's chest cracked entirely at that, small, ordinary, devastating. She used to make him breakfast every single morning, years ago, before duty swallowed those mornings whole one by one, and he genuinely, with sick, sudden clarity, could not remember the last time she'd done it for him. Could not remember the last time he'd woken up early enough, present enough, to even know if she still made breakfast at all.
"Y/N—"
"Goodbye, Rhys," she said, gentle but final, and stepped back inside, the door closing softly behind her.
He stood there on the porch for a long, hollow moment, still holding the flowers, the wine, the necklace box abandoned on the small table, feeling more thoroughly, completely lost than he had in five hundred years of living.
He was turning to go, wings shifting, resigned, when the door opened again behind him.
Hope flared, sharp and immediate, and died just as fast when he saw it was Mor, not Y/N, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.
"Rhys?"
He turned, something exhausted and defeated in the movement. "Yes?"
"Leave the wine." Mor nodded pointedly toward the bottle still clutched in his hand.
He almost argued. Almost said something bitter about how none of it mattered anyway if she wasn't even willing to accept a single one of the gifts. Instead, wordlessly, he held it out, and Mor took it without further comment, already turning to disappear back inside.
"Mor," he called, before she could shut the door.
She paused, glancing back.
"Was I really that blind," he asked, quiet, genuine. "That I didn't see any of this happening?"
Something in Mor's expression softened, just slightly, though her voice stayed firm. "Yes, Rhys. You really were."
She shut the door, and Rhysand stood alone on the small porch a long moment, the flowers still clutched forgotten in one hand, before he finally, slowly, winnowed away.
a/n: now I do feel bad for Rhys jeje, anyways, stay tuned por the other part!
A surprising turn of events has you finding yourself between your two favorite High Lords—Autumn and Night—and the few surprises both males seem to have in store for you.
Pairings: Rhysand x f!reader x Eris, Eris x f!reader
Word Count: 14.5k
Warnings: smut, p in v, threesome, oral (m&f), handjob, fingering, double penetration, slight breeding kink, competitive Rhys and Eris, Rhys and Eris basically devouring reader, possessive Eris, kinda soft Eris, basically this is filthy
A/N: Based on this request. Thank you @harvest-bunny and @garricktavisfanclub for letting me bounce ideas off y’all, talk through different aspects of this, proofreading and general support. I didn’t ever expect to be intrigued by this dynamic yet here I am. This started out one way and went in a complete different direction than I planned and I inadvertently added a subtle side plot too, but I do like how it turned out. Buckle up because I may have gone a little feral while writing this. 🤭
Low murmurs and soft breathless giggles were the only sounds that filled the room.
“If I’d known you’d be this welcoming, I’d have invited you to my court sooner.”
Your eyes twinkled as your teeth sank into your bottom lip.
From your vantage point on your knees, you looked up into the face of the male that towered above you. Your fingers fiddled with the button of his pants, very clear in your intentions for the male.
“You have had me in your court plenty, if I recall correctly,” you murmured.
“And while it’s always been a pleasure, I think this is turning out to be your most…intriguing visit yet.”
Amber eyes sparked with mischief as you gazed up at Eris Vanserra, the newest High Lord of Prythian—the High Lord of Autumn to be exact.
Your own High Lord, the High Lord of the Night Court had sent you out on an errand and a visit to the Autumn Court for some dealings with the newly appointed High Lord.
Though it wasn’t your first time to the court, nor the first time you’d dealt with Eris. You’d been familiar with the male for quite some time—most of the reasoning having to do with your work as Night Court courtier.
But you and Eris had been dancing around one another for some time now. A certain amount of intrigue, tension and chemistry had always lingered beneath the surface of your interactions with him. Flirtations, double meanings—hidden sparks just waiting to catch on fire.
What had meant to be a legitimate visit turned into drinks, which had turned into your mouth slanted against his.
You weren’t sure what had initially started it other than you’d just felt this pull to him—like a desperate need to finally have knowledge of something you’d wondered quite some time about.
Before you’d known it, his mouth was just as hot on yours and his hand was down your pants.
Well, that might’ve been a slight exaggeration, though he had gotten bold and handsy, rather quick.
He’d heard no complaint from you though.
As your lips had moved against his, tongue tangling with his own—enough to taste the sharp sting of the liquor he’d just consumed—he had been quick to strip you.
Before you had known it, your usual, comfortable dress of a tunic and pants had been discarded.
You hadn’t even pretended to be ashamed of the lacy little underthings you were left in, a stark contrast to your clothes—ones that were not the normal undergarments one would wear with such an outfit.
But maybe you had been hoping.
Even if you hadn’t been, you hadn’t thought it would hurt to don them under your outfit of choice.
Clearly, you’d made a wise decision today.
Eris’s knowing smirk had told you he’d figured out your line of thinking and approved—greatly. The smug upturn of his lips had sent heat flooding to your lower belly, rushing between your legs, the tell tale pulsing of your desire starting to rise.
All it had taken was a deadly smirk from the High Lord and a lone finger running over the lace of your underwear—right down the seam of your clothed cunt—and you were practically putty in his hands.
You’d let out a soft moan at the feel of his teasing touch and his eyes had lit in absolute delight at that.
But you wanted to spoil him.
Which is why after you’d torn open his shirt, your kisses moved along his jaw and neck, mouth falling to his chest and downwards before your knees hit the plushly carpeted floor.
You could’ve sworn you saw a flicker of flames in those eyes.
His low, sensual murmurs did nothing but help stoke your own fire. Especially when the back of a finger stroked down your cheek. Enough that it made you lean into his touch.
It made you eager to please him.
“You look like a female who’s spent plenty of time imagining this,” he hummed.
Another breathy giggle escaped you—even if he was a cocky bastard.
“And what if I have?” you blinked up at him, innocently.
You heard a low growl rumble from his chest as you finally freed his hardened cock from its restraints, discarding his pants entirely.
Your breath left you in one solid whoosh at the sight. Not that you’d had experience with many High Lords, but you could definitely say he’d fit the part if he was this blessed.
“If you look in awe now, just wait until I’m inside you.”
Your eyes could’ve rolled back at his commanding tone. You would happily submit to him right then and there just to have his glorious cock in you right that second.
But, you wanted him in your mouth first.
“My cock struck you that speechless, sweetheart?”
You peered up, seeing an amused, raised brow. The question had been asked in that sultry, arrogant tone he was known for.
But it didn’t needle you like it did most. No, it made you hotter.
You just shot him a half hearted glare—one that he chuckled at—before you leaned down, tongue gliding up his thick length.
That killed any amusement in him quick. What you did hear was a sharp, deep inhale. So much so it expanded his broad chest, from the looks of it, as you glanced upwards.
You’d just taken him in your mouth fully when—
Where, pray tell, is my beloved courtier? I sent you out hours ago.
It took an effort not to jump at the smooth and sensual deep voice that appeared in your head. Of all times to, truly.
Your High Lord really did know how to pop in one's mind at the most inopportune times.
Wouldn’t you like to know?
You purred your answer back, sending the thought into the ether of whatever magic that made it possible for Rhys to communicate mind to mind.
You didn’t stop your actions though as your mouth slid over Eris’s cock, his groans filling your ears. The salty tip filled your senses the moment you wrapped your lips around him and it still lingered as you dragged your wet heat over him. You felt his long slender fingers tighten in your hair as you worked him over good.
You also never imagined you’d be holding a mental conversation while a cock was in your mouth, but here you were.
Well you’re not at home, so I had to inquire in different ways.
Again, you didn’t let the disturbance cease your actions as your tongue swirled.
I’m busy, Rhysand.
You rarely ever called him by his full name, which was probably your first giveaway.
A wicked pause.
Doing what? Or should I say, whom?
You had absolutely no idea how the High Lord of the Night Court managed to guess what you were currently doing.
Your hands slid upwards, over the exposed muscled stomach and you peered up at Eris—mouth still full of his cock—as you sent your own wicked sounding answer back to Rhys.
Nothing. Just giving our newest High Lord a proper welcome.
Your mouth slid even further down his cock, so large you knew you wouldn’t be able to fit the entirety in your mouth. Especially as you felt the tip nudge the back of your throat. Though he groaned in appreciation, something must’ve shown on your face for he pulled your head back, hauling your mouth off of him completely. You whimpered, already missing the weight of him in your mouth.
His eyes narrowed.
“Rhysand in your head again?”
For the second time in as many minutes, you had no idea how the other High Lord in your company managed to know such a thing.
“He’s being a busy body.”
As if on cue, Rhys’s response came. You hadn’t even realized that it’d seemed to take him an awful long beat before he’d even answered.
Can I join, darling?
You had to roll your eyes at the sensual and direct suggestion and you felt Eris assessing you as if trying to figure out the silent conversation that was occurring in your head.
No. Go polish the collection of mirrors you stare at yourself in.
Your response was flippant and final, but well meaning.
Rhys—similar to Eris—had a knack for flirting with you. It was no secret he was adventurous when it came to his sexual escapades, but he’d been taunting and teasing you with offers for centuries.
There was no response, the presence in your mind vanishing.
Good.
You fully intended to get back to what you’d been doing and you told Eris so.
“Care to resume, High Lord?” you teased, hand wrapping around the base of his cock.
His eyes shuttered, gaze still on you, though.
“I scared him off,” you smirked, leaning down to press your tongue against the broad head.
He growled his pleased answer, hand threading through your hair again like he was more than eager to have the feel of your mouth along his cock again.
You were more than happy to oblige him, once again pushing all you could fit into your mouth, moaning around him at just how pretty he sounded when he lost control.
Your fingers had just tightened around the rest of him when you heard the silken, familiar voice.
But this time from behind you.
“You sure know how to give your guests a warm welcome, don’t you, Eris?”
It was a miracle from the Mother herself that you didn’t actually choke.
He had winnowed in so silently that you’d missed his entry—that and you and Eris had clearly been a bit preoccupied.
Eris yanked you off his cock and to your feet so fast, you’d hardly registered the movement. He moved you right in front of him, obviously blocking his naked form.
You nearly gawked at your High Lord standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, his hands in the pockets of his fine black pants. His lips were curled in amusement as he took in the sight before him.
You were sure your mouth was opening and closing like a fish as you tried to process Rhys observing you two. Or even as you tried to figure out what to say.
“By all means, don’t let me interrupt,” Rhys drawled smoothly.
You sighed, exasperated.
“Rhys, what are you doing here?”
You felt a strong forearm wrap around your bare stomach—not to mention the still hardened cock poking into your backside as Eris managed to pull you even closer to his body.
Rhys walked into the room, violet eyes twinkling with something dangerous—predatory interest, for sure.
“I must say I’m wounded, darling. Taking Eris to bed before me?”
You thought you heard a slight snarl from behind you. You also noticed the High Lord of Autumn had yet to speak.
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
“As you can see I’m perfectly alright and occupied at the moment, you can winnow home now, Rhys.”
He didn’t move though.
In fact, his eyes roved your form, hungrily.
You didn’t doubt he’d already taken note what you were clad in and filed it away the moment he’d arrived in the room. But now, Rhys let that desire, that absolute hunger for you, really shine through.
It was intense enough it made your throat bob and your thighs inadvertently squeeze.
His all knowing eyes dropped to that too and you felt yourself flush, feeling a little too warm—both caused by Rhys’s gaze and being pressed to the warm, muscled body of Eris behind you.
Suddenly you were asking yourself why you’d turned down Rhys earlier, at all. Why you’d initially thought it was a bad idea.
Two powerful, deadly beautiful and attractive High Lords with all their attention on you…
“Eris not satisfying you?” Rhys quipped, smoothly.
You heard the growl from behind you, but louder this time.
“Rhys…”
You’d opened your mouth to chastise him, to tell him to stop provoking Eris, but instead…instead your voice came out sounding a tad breathless.
His eyes shot to yours and you knew he’d heard the shift in your tone, just as much as you had. His eyes were nearly blazing as they once again took in your body—what was exposed, what was barely covered by scraps of lace.
Suddenly you found yourself extremely interested in what it would be like to have those large hands on your body, his sensuous mouth, his cock inside you…
If your core hadn’t already been molten, it sure was now. Your chest heaved with your shallow breaths, your arousal probably so potent that both males could detect it easily now.
You knew the one standing before you, sure had—a spark of recognition flickering in his eyes.
“Regretting your decision in saying no to me joining, are we now?”
It sounded like Eris nearly choked behind you.
“Joining? Absolutely not. Get out, Rhysand.”
You felt the stiffness of Eris behind you—in more ways than one—but you stayed quiet. Rhys locked in on that fact immediately.
His eyes stayed on you as he spoke to Eris, though.
“Am I not allowed to have a little fun?”
You paused, finding yourself actually considering.
You hadn’t necessarily been turned off from Rhys’s numerous advancements in the past, you’d just come to expect them as every day life. After all, it’d gone on for long enough that you’d assumed that’s just how yours and his relationship was.
But you’d never considered it actually happening.
After all, it wasn’t every day you had the opportunity to be at the mercy of two High Lords.
“You’re not seriously considering it, are you?” Eris scoffed.
You brought your lower lip between your teeth again, thinking.
“It could be fun…” you grinned.
The smirk on Rhys’s face grew, but Eris just growled lowly, the possessive hand that’d moved to your hip earlier, tightening further.
“After all, can’t a female enjoy both of her favorite High Lords?”
Eris’s grip loosened just slightly, but you could feel the rigidity still in his body, pressed behind you.
You turned, a hand sliding over his bare chest, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Just trust me, okay?”
His eyes assessed your face, clearly deciding to trust you as he gave a terse nod.
Your smile grew as you looked over a shoulder then crooked a finger at Rhys.
“Then come on in, take your clothes off and stay for a while, Rhys.”
Eris’s jaw was still tense as his eyes tracked the male’s approach behind you. You reached up, hand caressing his jaw as you pulled his face to yours.
Your lips pressed to his and you felt him relax just the slightest as your tongue swept over his lower lip. He groaned into the kiss, deepening it as you felt your pulse race in excitement.
Clearly, Rhys had wasted no time in following your orders because you felt arms wrap around you from behind and a press of another hardened cock, once again, against your ass. You moaned into Eris’s kiss just as you felt smirking lips against your neck, nipping lightly.
“So responsive," Rhys purred in your ear.
His deep voice breathed in your ear had you shuddering and breaking contact from Eris’s lips. Something both males took notice of.
Rhys just chuckled darkly, Eris just glared.
Rhys’s hands wasted no time in wandering though, something you saw Eris’s own eyes track. He missed nothing just as much as the male behind you.
It might be a challenge—balancing these two—but you had a feeling it’d sure be worth it.
One golden brown hand wandered over your still clothed breast, giving it a teasing squeeze through the fabric. You whimpered in response.
“This little outfit wouldn’t happen to be from that shop in Velaris that sells those pretty little lacy things, would it?”
He licked a line up the side of your neck and all you could manage was a hummed response and a nod as his thumb flicked over the peaked nipple beneath the lace.
His other hand went straight between your legs, cupping you through the tiny piece of lace situated there. You moaned appreciatively, back arching against his chest.
You hadn’t realized your eyes had slipped closed or the fact that Eris’s own touch had slipped from you until you felt firm fingers on your chin.
“Eyes on me.”
Your eyes snapped open to see Eris’s hard gaze on yours. You could still see the swaggering, arrogant male beneath it, just slightly, but he was acting standoffish.
You thought you’d change that.
Especially when his thumb brushed your lower lip and you bit down on it gently, those flames bursting to life in his eyes again.
“I’m here to appreciate you too, High Lord,” you hummed, one hand reaching down to wrap around his cock again.
He groaned, eyes sliding closed, clearly appreciating your attention. You leaned up, even as Rhys still explored your body, to nip at Eris’s bottom lip, giving his cock one slow stroke before falling away.
“Loosen up,” you murmured, though not unkindly and only loud enough for him to hear.
Though you figured with fae hearing, you were sure Rhys heard it too. If he did, he didn’t let on.
Rhys’s hand slid from your chest to your hip, the other hand—that’d already been between your legs—dipping beneath your underwear to slide through your slick folds, causing you to hiss. In response, he ground his cock into you from behind and you felt the ache between your legs intensify even more in reaction.
You were gonna need one of them inside you and soon.
Seeming like he was entirely happy to completely ignore Rhys’s presence, Eris spoke to you alone.
“I think you’re a tad too overdressed, sweetheart.”
His hands had replaced where Rhys’s had been before, palming your breasts.
“I’d tend to agree,” you breathed, tilting your head as Rhys continued to pepper kisses along the slope of your neck.
You let out a breathy moan as at the exact same time Rhys pushed a finger into your soaked entrance, Eris’s hand pulled the cup of your bra down, thumb rubbing over your nipple before pinching it.
“Gods, you’re soaked,” Rhys groaned from behind you, that lone finger pumping in and out of you, slowly.
Eris’s eyes darted downwards, like he, too, wanted to feel for himself.
“Difficult not to be when you’re being unraveled by the two most handsome High Lords,” you teased, head falling back against Rhys’s shoulder.
You knew Rhys could feel the way you clenched around that one finger, like you were desperate to hold on to his touch. You knew he was able to feel your heat, that tightness that would be just a preview for what it’d be like for his cock to be inside you.
“Fuck, darling, the way that little cunt is clenching,” Rhys growled in your ear, mouth hot on your neck as his finger stroked and your thighs trembled.
Eris’s mouth lowered to your one exposed breast while Rhys tilted your face towards his and finally connected your lips.
They were soft and firm under yours, but definitely downright teasing as he constantly changed the pressure of them against yours. One moment they’d be soft and teasing, barely a brush and the next, they’d be a harder press, mouth a hot glide over yours as your lips parted and his tongue swept in.
You whimpered, feeling the sensation of Eris’s tongue flicking against your nipple—likely to remind you of his presence there too. Meanwhile, Rhys’s tongue battled your own, twining with yours and one of your hands reached up and behind you, to thread through his short dark hair.
When you tugged on the strands gently, you felt—as much as you heard—the vibration of his deep growl against your back. Your other hand reached down and found the long tresses of the red haired male busy lavishing your breast and delved into them as well. You felt the appreciative hum against your nipple—that he currently had in his mouth—and you arched even more into Eris’s mouth.
You could feel the Autumn male’s delight.
Even if one may have been here for the fun of it—the other less than thrilled with the addition—you knew they were both going to wreck you, that’s for sure.
Which is how you came to the proposition you did as you parted from Rhys’s lips.
“You take these clothes off me and I’ll give you two whatever you want.”
You managed to get the sentence out—slightly wondering how, considering your mind was starting to go fuzzy around the edges from both male’s ministrations.
You felt both of them go preternaturally still, as if their curiosities had been piqued.
“Anything we want?” Rhys growled lowly, obviously loving the idea.
But it was Eris’s eyes that yours locked on as you answered, knowing he’d humored you this far, but unsure if he’d let it go much further. But right now, you didn’t want anything to ruin this once in a lifetime opportunity.
So, you tried to assuage the dissatisfaction of the male you’d begun with.
“Anything,” you repeated.
Eris’s brow just barely twitched, amusement filling his face. He was willing to humor you further, then.
Somehow, it felt like making a deal with two devils.
It’d be well worth it though.
“You each get to take off only one item. That way it evens the playing field.”
“Hard to even it when you’re the one writhing from just one finger of mine,” Rhys chuckled, curling that lone digit within you, making your vision blur.
Nor could you stop the answering moan.
“Imagine when it’s my cock, darling,” he breathed.
You audibly whimpered at the thought.
Another snarl came from the male in front of you.
“Down, Eris,” Rhys drawled, nonchalantly, “Not my fault I’m the one that already has her thighs quivering.”
Cauldron, did he ever. Especially as a second finger, finally, finally joined the first and you let out a pleased moan. You relished in the way Rhys’s fingers plunged deeply, slowly, curling within you. You gasped, back arching when his thumb brushed your swollen clit.
Likely because you were already vibrating with need and arousal, you felt the stirrings of release deep in the pit of your stomach and you were eager to chase it as you pushed yourself harder against Rhys’s hand. But, you knew you needed to be patient.
Even if you were ready for both Rhys and Eris to coax release after release from you.
You didn’t have to open your eyes to know the High Lord of Autumn was likely shooting daggers at the High Lord of Night.
Clearly, sharing was not a strong point for either of them.
“One item, each,” you reminded, trying to gather your bearings, despite Rhys’s teasing strokes.
You were met with grumbles from both as Eris pulled his touch away from your breast and Rhys pulled his fingers from inside you, much to your disappointment at each.
They took their time though, as if making sure their slow efforts would leave you shaking and trembling. Which, it was.
Eris’s mouth dipped to one of your shoulders, placing a kiss there as he slid the strap of your bra down, mouth lowering to your collarbone to place a kiss there as he pulled the other strap down. Hands reached behind you, unhooking it and you let the item fall to the ground.
“Fuck,” Eris whispered, almost like he hadn’t meant to, but the curse came slipping out anyways.
Your cheeks heated—not from embarrassment or shyness—but the intensity of his gaze on your bare breasts. The fire in his gaze. That same fire you recognized underneath each and every interaction you’d had with Eris for a long time.
Rhys had been languidly dragging his mouth and nose along the curve of your neck and shoulder, lips sometimes deviating to press against your jaw as his hands gripped your hips, right where the band of your lacy underwear sat.
He turned you to the point you were once again leaning against Eris—one of Eris’s arms wrapping protectively around your waist—while Rhys’s eyes finally settled on your bare upper body. His lips curled up in approval.
“Just as magnificent as I always thought they’d be.”
Your teeth scraped your bottom lip, waiting for Rhys to remove his piece of clothing.
While you waited, you felt Eris’s lips nuzzling your neck and you arched into the pleasant sensation.
You could’ve sworn you felt his smug smirk against your skin.
You weren’t sure why Eris seemed to be so possessive, but it made your blood heat just as much as Rhys’s lustful gaze on you did.
Rhys’s fingers hooked into the band of your underwear as his gaze snapped to yours. That same devilish grin you’d seen a million times and a million ways was turned on you now, the stars twinkling in his eyes as he took in your current state.
You were so heavily aroused that you practically squirmed in Eris’s arms, wanting his touch to go southwards too, wanting Rhys to do something other than tease you. You were practically vibrating with desire and anticipation at this point, so sensitive to each male’s touch.
Finally, he pulled the scrap of lace down your hips, kneeling to pull it down your legs.
As Rhys guided the clothing off, helping you to step out of it, he leaned forward, kissing your pelvic bone, right above the dripping cunt that was begging for attention at this point.
You gasped, back arching against Eris’s chest, fingers tightening on the muscular forearm of his that stretched across your stomach.
Your legs felt like jelly from the solitary touch.
“We’re going to have to move this to the bed because I may not be able to stand much longer,” you gasped.
A raspy laugh left Rhys’s throat as he peered up at you before standing again.
“Whatever you wish, darling.”
You finally stepped out of Eris’s arms—already missing the contact—when you realized you hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the male bodies you’d been surrounded with for some time now.
You’d been too preoccupied on first pleasing Eris—before Rhys’s arrival, that is—and what they were both doing to you, afterwards, that you hadn’t been able to properly take in the sculpted and marvelously strong bodies that were now yours for ravishing. At least for right now.
You took them in now, though.
One body of golden brown, with dark whirls of tattoos on the chest and the other pale and freckled, his body almost tattooed in its own way with the array of scattered freckles.
Your head turned from one direction to the other, taking in the strong biceps, muscled chests, carved from stone abdomens and if you were to glance down—which you did, with a slow smirk—you knew you’d find two impressive cocks.
You walked backwards to Eris’s bed, your eyes on both of them as they watched your every movement like hawks.
You briefly had the thought that you hadn’t expected to end up in Eris’s room when you first arrived in Autumn today, let alone be here with Rhys and Eris.
You sat on the bed, fully exposed to both of them now. You sat primly, quite the contrast to the situation at hand, but you knew with even just a slight shift of your legs, they’d be able to see how your arousal was dripping from you.
Which is precisely why you casually parted your legs for them to get a glimpse.
You didn’t miss how both amber and violet gazes tracked every movement, dipping to the apex of your thighs, zeroing in on the current state of you.
“Coming, boys?”
You knew your expression was desire filled, as hungry as their own faces displayed.
Eris was the first to move, a hand brushing your waist with a gentle squeeze as he joined you on the bed, behind you. You squeaked the slightest when his large hands gripped your hips and pulled you into his lap.
You shifted just slightly, feeling the delicious rub of his cock against where you throbbed the most. A deep, pained groan came from behind you.
He remained cold towards your High Lord who was still standing away from the bed, arms crossed, taking in the scene with amusement. Rhys didnt let it deter him though as he prowled forward, one broad hand engulfing your side as his head dipped to look at you.
Strands of dark hair fell across his forehead and his gaze didn’t break from you, even if his words were for the High Lord of Autumn.
“Problem sharing, Eris?”
His voice was casual, not the least bit bothered—even going as far as to sound amused at Eris’s behavior.
There was a grunt from the Autumn male.
“No more than you, it seems.”
Rhys just hummed, running a thumb across your lower lip. Your lashes fluttered, eager to have them both in the moment.
It was then that you noticed what was missing, your eyes opening fully to scan the space behind your High Lord.
“No wings today?”
Rhys had always teased you about how he thought he could get you in some pretty interesting positions with his wings. You were actually sad to see they weren’t out to play today.
“Too complicated to maneuver with this big ego already in the room,” Rhys answered, head tilting in Eris’s direction.
“Don’t you mean your own, High Lord?”
Eris’s gruff tone gave you chills, for some reason. Just the knowledge of them competing for your attention seemed to excite you further.
“Understandable if you can’t keep up with me, High Lord,” Rhys taunted, throwing back the sass in the title that Eris had provided, first.
“You’re both children,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes.
Rhys just winked at you before dipping to connect your lips to his. You gave a light moan at the contact.
Will you stop antagonizing him?
You shot the mental thought to your High Lord as his lips moved with yours.
When it’s so fun?
The amusement and dark chuckle in your mind only intensified when you mentally sent back the thought of a vulgar gesture. Apparently, the sentiment was received.
You felt a nip at your neck and you flinched—not in pain, but in surprise—Eris once again not failing to remind you of his presence as you kissed Rhys.
Like you could forget. Especially with his cock pressing so close to where you wanted one of them inside you, pronto.
You purposely shifted again, moaning louder into Rhys’s kiss at the drag of your cunt across Eris’s cock.
Gods, he was going to feel incredible.
While Eris’s hands palmed your breasts, your own hand wrapped around Rhys’s cock—as you’d neglected it for long enough.
He was warm and hard as steel, feeling like silk to the touch, as your hand slid along him, tightening your grip in a little squeeze here and there.
You knew he had to be impressive from the cocky arrogance that came with the High Lord of the Night Court, but your mouth had dried out at the first sight of it. You knew he knew how to satisfy a female with that.
Rhys groaned, fingertips tilting your face as the heated kiss continued, especially as your smaller hand pumped him.
Your thumb brushed the thick head, smearing the bead of precum on it and you grinned at the satisfied rumble from him.
You finally parted from the skilled lips, a tad breathless, the question already on your lips—eager to get things moving.
“So, who’s first?”
You were sure both males exchanged glances—Rhys seeming more at ease and cocky, Eris more aloof and unimpressed.
The fact he’d allowed this to happen was a minor miracle. But, you tilted your head over your shoulder, seeking him, brushing your lips against his in an almost more gentle nature than your kiss with Rhys had been.
Eris’s lips were soft against yours, in tone and not just feel. As if allowing you to take the pleasure you wanted from the situation even if he wasn’t wild about it. You felt your lips curve upwards in a smile as you kissed him.
You made a note to repay him somehow for this.
He chased your lips once when you pulled away as Rhys was busy exploring your body, mouth hot on your neck and moving down to your breasts. Your chest arched into the wicked mouth there and you reached up, your fingers brushing past the long red strands of Eris’s hair as they brushed his cheek gently, tenderly, almost reverently.
You didn’t know the reason why, but somehow you felt like you’d acted on instinct.
When you pulled away, a look passed between the two of you, his amber eyes conveying a message you weren’t quite sure you knew how you deciphered, but you did.
He would follow your lead.
“Well?” you prompted, turning back to Rhys who’d just licked a line up the center of your chest then nipped at your jawline.
“Well, I want to see what that pretty mouth of yours can do. I mean I already saw a good demonstration when Eris was halfway down your throat—”
Eris just snorted at Rhys’s comment, but he continued, ignoring it.
“But I—” he paused, stroking a finger down your jaw, tilting your face upwards to further look at him.
“I want to experience it for myself,” Rhys concluded.
You moved without a word, ready to position yourself. But unable to help yourself, you reached for Eris again, connecting your lips with his.
Apparently, you caught him off guard as he grunted at the sudden press of your lips, but he obliged you. Rhys, getting impatient, simply cleared his throat.
“Your High Lord awaits,” Rhys said in that silky tone of his.
Your eyes dropped, seeing the hardened cock just waiting for your mouth.
Indeed.
You heard the smirk in Eris’s voice as he spoke, his hands sliding along your body as you moved to position yourself in front of Rhys, better.
“Seems like you aren’t her favorite High Lord after all.”
He definitely had caught on to the inevitable pull you kept feeling towards him. Though you tried to brush it off as you trying to keep things even between the two males.
“Don’t forget she’s my courtier,” Rhys quipped.
“Don’t forget she came to me first,” came Eris’s retort.
“She may have come to you first, but I will be the first to make her come.”
With your gaze bouncing between both of them, you noticed Eris’s assessing, unimpressed look, “We’ll see about that.”
You were about ready to shift onto your hands and knees in front of Rhys when you felt movement behind you.
You had no idea what Eris had planned and you peeked back around and saw him lying on his back, hands reaching for your hips.
You found out a moment later what was on his mind when you felt his thumb brush your slick folds gently and he gave an approving grunt.
“Dripping like you’re in heat, aren’t you?”
Your breath hitched and your face flushed at his filthy words, but you didn’t argue.
You knew you couldn’t afford to be distracted, especially with another enticing cock in front of your face. But, you thought you’d repay Rhys for the teasing he’d provided you with. You bypassed the aching cock waiting for your mouth and slid your tongue along his finely muscled stomach.
You smirked at his response, the groan and the twitch of his cock that you noticed out of the corner of your eye.
You finally pulled back and were about ready to lean down to drag your tongue along his cock when you felt a harsh pinch along the inside of your thigh—a bite.
You felt Eris’s teeth sink into your skin on the inside of the other thigh and you whimpered, the sting brief but so arousing. You likely dripped even more from his actions.
Knowing you didn’t want Rhys to get impatient, you finally leaned down, teasing again, pressing your tongue flat against the head of his cock and leaving it there for a moment. Rhys’s growl of pleasure was instantaneous and you bit back a moan—just barely—when the taste of him hit your tongue.
You had to taste more.
Your tongue swirled around the tip and Rhys’s head dropped back, much to your delight. You finally slid your mouth on him fully, almost entirely forgetting about Eris’s presence—oddly enough like he wanted you to—before he made his deadly move.
You’d just taken more of Rhys into your mouth when you felt your hips being lowered, hot breath against your cunt, making it clench around nothing.
“I do believe she gets wetter for Autumn than she does Night,” Eris mused aloud, though neither of you deigned a response to that.
Not like you could speak at the moment, though.
But it was when you felt Eris’s tongue glide over your folds in one, torturous lick that you moaned aloud on Rhys’s cock, clearly pleasing the male kneeling before you.
His hand gripped your hair and you moaned at that.
Cauldron, these males would be the death of you.
You refocused your attention on Rhys, mouth moving on him, humming around him, knowing it would drive him wild.
You managed to stay focused for a while, even as you felt Eris’s tongue lapping at your entrance, like he was savoring every last bit of the taste of you that he could.
You beamed as his hips bucked at a particularly strong suck on him. It wasn’t easy to get a quick reaction like that out of Rhys and you found yourself a tad proud.
You pulled back, giving teasing kisses along his length as your fingers wrapped around the rest of his cock, sliding easily from the amount your mouth had been on him.
Down below, you felt your hips being tugged closer to Eris’s face as his tongue dove into your entrance without any warning. You were positive your eyes crossed and the indecent moan that escaped your throat was a tad embarrassing.
Just the feeling of his tongue delving into you made your head spin and you struggled to bring your focus back to the task at hand—all while you enjoyed the feel of Eris’s wicked mouth on you.
Turns out he could use said mouth on more than just smart remarks.
You took Rhys in your mouth again, feeling the warmth and the hard as steel cock in your mouth, making your senses go wild. He tasted as good as one could imagine from just a single look at the swaggering male.
You withdrew your lips again, to the tip, rolling your tongue around him. Your eyes gazed upwards and met his heated stare with as much of a teasing smirk you could, with your mouth filled with him.
You moaned—both in encouragement of his stare and the fact you felt Eris’s tongue travel upwards, moving from your entrance.
You knew where he was headed to next.
Rhys growled down at you, hips bucking again, then a second time as he thrust into you, sending his cock further into your mouth with each movement.
Just then, Eris’s tongue flicked your clit and it was so delightful, such an amazing sensation that your mouth instantly fell from Rhys, your eyes squeezing closed as you wished he’d do that specific movement again.
Obviously gathering your reaction from that, Eris did it again and you groaned a second time at the jolts of pleasure that shot up your spine at the ministration.
You were basically lost in the feeling of his mouth on you.
You felt a harsh grip in your hair as Rhys grabbed a handful, tugging your head firmly back to his cock. The head of it nudged your lips in silent command to open again.
“Since it seems you’re easily distracted, I thought I might just help you stay focused,” Rhys practically purred down to you.
You opened for him and got back to work.
Hand flat against your head, he moved you just like he wanted you and you went willingly, his head dropping back in ecstasy as he groaned deeply.
Despite having his cock in your mouth, it didn’t stop Rhys from popping into your head again.
Seems like Eris is quite intent on making sure you don’t forget I’m not the only one here. Not that I blame him, I am quite the delight.
You grunted around his length, eyes shooting upwards. He lifted his head again to peer down at you.
Violet eyes filled with amusement met your look.
It was at that moment that Eris’s tongue flicked your clit repeatedly and you groaned in bliss, lashes fluttering.
See what I mean?
Rhys was smug—not that that was any shock. But you could just hear the tone in your head.
You sure like hearing yourself talk. Or…think. Whatever.
Your response made him hum, likely too because you’d pulled off his cock long enough to lick up his shaft, anyways.
Should we see how deep that envy runs, darling?
You had no idea what he was even talking about and sent that thought back.
Watch this.
He waited until you lowered your mouth as far as it could go, fitting as much of his cock inside your mouth, the tip hitting your throat. You knew he could feel the slight contraction of your throat against his cock, too.
Rhys let out—what sounded like a slightly overdramatized moan—and probably more than you deserved for what you were doing. Then again, he tended to have a flair for the dramatic.
“Fuck, darling, your mouth is like heaven. I just know you’re giving me your best. Probably even better than your previous work.”
If you could’ve rolled your eyes mentally, you would’ve. Perhaps you did because you received a pleased chuckle inside your mind.
Right at the moment you felt a nibble against your clit, causing you to physically jolt. Your mouth instantly fell off Rhys as you let out the most pitifully loud gasped, choked moan.
Interesting.
You ignored Rhys’s voice in your head as Eris retreated, his licks and sucks on your clit coming few and far between. You whimpered, hips stuttering as you tried to press closer to his mouth, needing more friction. You practically ground against his mouth.
You felt the vibration of his moan against your cunt but you could focus on nothing else—even Rhys—as you chased the feeling of more, more, more from Eris Vanserra.
“Fuck, fuck, gods,” you moaned, the incoherent babbles all you could manage.
“Better get to work, darling. I want to be shooting down your throat as you come,” Rhys drawled, hand still tangled in your hair.
You groaned at that thought and obliged him.
When you returned your mouth, you let Rhys take what he needed, be as rough as he liked. You tried to focus, you really did, but your attention was all on Eris—you couldn’t help it.
You could tell by Rhys’s grunts and groans that he was close, which thank the Cauldron because you didn’t think you could hold on much longer, yourself.
Especially when you felt Eris’s grip tighten on your thighs, his tongue working overdrive, licking, flicking, lips sucking, to bring you over the edge as quickly as he could.
“Gods,” Rhys groaned.
You felt his grip in your hair tighten to nearly the point of pain as he thrust his hips one last time, deeper than he had yet. Your eyes watered slightly at the depth as he finally came undone with a growl, his release shooting down your throat.
You moaned around him, happy to take it all—a distant part of you halfway wishing you’d been able to have made it to this point with Eris earlier.
Rhys slowed his thrusts, chest heaving, fingers loosening in your hair. He quirked a brow down at you, his observation apparent.
You had yet to come.
Eris was lingering, pulling back and teasing—holding you on that edge like he wanted to make sure you weren’t preoccupied when he tore your orgasm from you.
And did he ever.
It had been cresting, somehow, without your knowledge. Perhaps you’d been too occupied with Rhys, but you felt your release rip out of you and you cried out—louder than you intended to.
Your hands clenched the bedsheets, your scream of ecstasy ringing in your ears as your body rode the waves of pleasure. Eris didn’t let up though, not even as you were trembling.
The sheer bliss radiated through your limbs, the intoxicating feeling rushing through your veins and you swore your ears rang.
Eris finally ceased his movements, leaving a final kiss against your clit making you hiss and your hips jerk from the overstimulation. You felt nips to your thighs again and you had no doubt he was marking the skin there—again.
“Well that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen considering I once judged a Summer Court bathing suit contest.”
Your eyes slid up to Rhys and you practically scowled as you tried to catch your breath and come back to reality. But the gleam in his eye told you he meant it and found pleasure in watching you fall apart just as much as he had from his own release.
When the bed shifted again as Eris finally moved from his previous position, your head turned, eyes cutting to him, feeling the urge to do something in thanks for his actions. You reached for him, your lips finding his as if that alone could convey your gratitude for what he’d just done.
You moaned softly against his lips, tasting yourself on him.
You felt arms wrap around your waist from behind and a smirking male nuzzling your neck.
Rhys continued your silent conversation, his silken voice appearing in your mind for the dozenth time that day.
You can’t show that amount of enthusiasm for me, darling?
Your mouth was still on Eris’s, his tongue busy exploring your mouth, even as you jumped slightly at the feel of Rhys tweaking one of your nipples in his fingers.
I just had your cock in my mouth.
Your reply was dry and unamused and you were positive Rhys actually purred back in your mind, pleased at the thought of what had just happened.
It had been a nice sound and feeling to know you’d made him come so hard.
“I think it’s time for me to fuck you, darling,” Rhys murmured outloud to you.
You broke away from Eris’s lips—much to his displeasure—and actually groaned aloud at his words.
Despite having one world shattering orgasm, your arousal spiked suddenly again. You rubbed your thighs together at the thought and a dark, sensual chuckle came from deep within Rhys’s chest as his eyes flicked down to your eager action.
“I just know,” Rhys said casually, thumb and forefinger holding your chin so he could lift your face to look at you directly, “You’d be perfect to give me plenty of heirs. Fill you up until you’re leaking with me.”
You didn’t have a chance to answer before the smug voice of the second male in your presence spoke.
“Some would say the strongest seed would take first and I do believe I know whose that is,” Eris paused, hand gliding down your arm.
His other hand was gentle as he swept your hair off your neck and over the opposite shoulder. He dropped a kiss to the back of your neck before continuing.
“You’d take me so well, wouldn’t you sweetheart? Let me fill you over and over with every last drop until you’d have no choice but to carry my heir, hm?”
He hadn’t even touched you yet—at least not in the way you wanted—but it felt like every single word of his had skittered along your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps.
“Yes,” you breathed, “I’d let you drip down my thighs only to fuck it back into me.”
The male shuddered against you. Actually shuddered.
At some point—you didn’t even realize when—your head had turned to look at Eris. Your eyes broke away from his searing gaze by Rhys’s low chuckle.
“Didn’t know you had such a filthy mouth on you, darling. You’ve been holding out on us.”
Maybe it was the sheer euphoria you were under the influence of, but you blurted out the idea that’d only popped in your mind a millisecond before.
“I want you both inside me at once.”
Since you were still mostly faced away from Rhys, you only saw Eris’s reaction.
His brows shot up, his look questioning. But his eyes scanned your face, though you weren’t sure what exactly he was searching for.
Your eyes again turned from Eris when you heard the rustling of the sheets and Rhys leaning back against the headboard, patting his lap.
“Then come here, darling.”
You crawled to him, anticipation building. He watched you with that keen gaze, that slow smile growing bigger with each and every inch toward him. You straddled Rhys’s waist, before his hands gripped your hips, moving your body in a slow, thorough grind along his length. He groaned at the same time that you gave a startled gasp and Rhys caught your lips with his, a quick sizzling kiss being exchanged between you two.
You looked over your shoulder, eyes lidded with desire, lips swollen from the kisses of both males as your gaze slid up the naked form of Eris. He sat where you’d left him, taking in the sight of you and Rhys, expression hard as stone.
“Come on, gorgeous,” you prompted, tongue parting your lips to moisten them as your eyes rose to his face.
You caught the way he took in that movement and his expression shifted, minutely, at your compliment and command to join.
You didn’t miss the faint smirk blooming on his lips that he tried to hide.
More rustling sounded behind you and Eris dipped his mouth to your ear as he kneeled on the bed behind you.
“We’re both going to fill you.”
Was it just your imagination or was there a tightness to his voice?
He continued before you could give it much thought.
“He’ll be in your cunt and I will be…here.”
You gasped when you felt Eris’s finger gently teasing your backside, brushing your entrance there.
You gulped nervously. It wasn’t that you were against trying it, per se, but it wasn’t something you’d ever tried before. A part of you didn’t know what to expect.
You looked back over your shoulder, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth in slight apprehension.
Eris’s eyes dropped to your mouth, somehow able to garner your nerves without you saying a single word. Somehow, he could sense your wariness.
His fingers stroked the skin at your hips, soothingly, eyes searching your face. You knew he was telling you he wouldn’t push any boundaries you weren’t comfortable with, but he’d take care of you too, if you gave him permission.
The touch at your hips was soothing and it did calm your nerves as you realized if you were to trust anyone to try this with, it would be Eris.
He seemed to read the thoughts flitting across your mind in your face even before you dipped your chin in a nod, giving him permission to continue.
“I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart,” Eris said, finally speaking, aloud.
Your eyes followed the index finger that he slipped into his mouth, wetting it before he lowered it to your ass, pushing it in slowly. You grimaced at the intrusion and the sharp sting of it, but it wasn’t horrible.
“Both of your favorite High Lords buried in you at once,” Rhys mused at the plan that’d been laid out, causing you to turn back to where he was propped up.
Your thighs tightened around his waist, excited at the idea.
“You’re quite the lucky female,” Rhys continued his thought, a rakish grin spreading across that handsome face of his.
“Don’t I know it,” you moaned, feeling Eris’s finger sliding in and out.
“Think you’ll be able to handle us?”
You quirked a brow at the unusual teasing comment from Eris and threw him an amused look.
“You can count on it, High Lord,” you purred.
You were positive you saw his eyes darken even further in response.
“Oh, fuck,” you moaned aloud.
Eris had lifted your hips enough—quickly too—for him to swipe his cock through your wet folds. The rub of his cock against you had you almost seeing stars, already. You could only imagine the feel of him being inside you.
He leaned forward enough to drag his tongue along your spine before he did anything else. You felt the brush of his hair skim along your bare back and you shivered at the touch, feeling your nipples pebble—like any little brush from Eris drove you wild.
“Just making sure I prepare enough,” he murmured to you, alone.
Making sure he wouldn’t hurt you, you realized. He needed enough lubrication to push into an even tighter entrance.
Eris was waiting until you were situated with Rhys inside you first before he made a move, so you shifted, getting into position.
You reached behind you, pumping Rhys’s cock a few quick times, making the High Lord of Night growl. You took a moment to tease yourself though, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds, the blunt tip brushing your clit.
You moaned at the feeling.
Rhys was just as mesmerized by it if his groan was of any indication.
“Either you put me inside you already or I’ll slam you down on my cock instead,” he threatened around another growl.
You whimpered at his tone and with one last drag back to your entrance—causing Rhys to hiss—you notched him at your entrance and slowly slid down onto his cock.
“Fucking Cauldron,” Rhys groaned aloud, head tipping back against the headboard, “Fuck, darling you feel amazing.”
You’d gasped at his entrance too, at the feeling.
You could hardly hear him as your cunt acclimated the stretch of his cock and it felt so fucking amazing. It took all your willpower not to start moving on him right that second.
“My turn now, sweetheart.”
Of course, you hadn’t forgotten Eris, couldn’t forget the warm presence behind you—the one that was like a living flame. But you were starting to wonder if this was a good idea if you were already overwhelmed by just Rhys inside you.
His hand was on your lower back, pushing you gently forward to the point you were leaning over Rhys a bit more. You gasped at the angle change, feeling Rhys’s cock shift deeper within you.
Gods spare you, this was absolutely glorious.
Rhys groaned, fingers of one hand curling around your neck as your hair fell like a certain around yours and his faces.
You took the opportunity to bend down, giving him a messy kiss. You were so aroused, so worked up, you didn’t think you could give a proper kiss right now.
He met you with the same intensity of teeth and tongue and lips. You felt the vibration of his grunt against your mouth and you got the feeling it was taking all his restraint not to start fucking you for all he was worth.
You found yourself lost in that heat between you and Rhys—at least until you were pulled from it at the feel of Eris breaching your other entrance.
Your mouth ripped from Rhys’s, your body instinctually going tense without you even meaning it to.
“Relax for me, sweetheart,” Eris murmured.
You groaned at the resistance you felt, so much more powerful of a sensation than just when his finger pushed in. You gripped at the sheets on either side of Rhys and Rhys gave you a moment, despite already being so wonderfully buried in your cunt.
Violet eyes watched you, tender and caring—though maybe not to the extent you’d seen from Eris today—but a hand cupped the side of your neck.
“You’re doing so good for us,” Rhys murmured his praise.
You also felt Eris’s grounding touch, his thumbs circling your skin as he gripped your hips and eased into your ass. He took it slow, giving you time to adjust as your body relaxed around him.
It was then that you felt warmth lick up your spine.
You couldn’t see it, but you could’ve sworn that Eris had just sent a wisp of his flames skittering up your spine.
Not hot enough to harm, but warm enough to soothe, to distract from the overwhelming feeling.
Maybe distraction was exactly why Rhys chose then to comment.
“It’s almost a shame Az isn’t here so you’d have someone filling that pretty little mouth, too.”
You felt Eris’s hands tighten on your hips and you knew he was fighting the urge to snarl.
A peek back over your shoulder at the redhead had you giving him a look saying, He’s kidding.
A scowl, but the look in his eyes—one that was easy to decipher—said that Rhys better be.
Rather jealous isn’t he?
Rhys’s smirk as he looked up at you and communicated with you mind to mind made you glare at him.
Ignore him.
It’s quite curious, don’t you think?
The look you threw at him said more than any response in your mind could and Rhys chuckled, hands gliding up your sides to your ribcage.
Just shut up and fuck me, came your reply.
My pleasure, darling.
By this point, Eris had sheathed himself fully in you with an appreciative moan. You felt your jaw slacken at the feeling at both males seated in you.
Full. So full.
You felt so fucking full with both High Lords’ cocks buried in you. It was almost too much, almost overwhelming.
Yet you were positively drunk on the feeling, though you weren’t quite sure how you’d make this work.
You heard Eris’s low curse from behind you, a muttered comment that you couldn’t quite catch.
Your hips shifted experimentally and you moaned at the drag of Rhys’s cock buried in you. You were half draped over him and you tried to grind yourself against his length, succeeding in a natural bounce back towards Eris as he eased out so slowly to push back in. You grimaced at the foreign sensation, not entirely unpleasant, but it was definitely an adjustment.
You felt a pinch of your skin at your hip and something in it made you turn your head.
You found Eris’s eyes already on you.
Are you okay? is what his look seemed to convey.
We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.
You seemed to know exactly what he was saying by looks alone, just as well as if he’d been speaking into your mind like Rhys could.
He rocked into you slowly, his burning gaze locked on yours.
How does that feel?
The question in those amber eyes was so apparent to you, you’d have almost thought he spoke the question out loud.
“Amazing,” you breathed, hands having found Rhys’s shoulders at some point, squeezing gently.
Your hair fell over your shoulder, like a waterfall, cascading towards Rhys’s body as you stayed turned towards Eris.
At some point the discomfort had faded, the intense burning subsiding. It was then you realized most of this would be up to you to lead and for them to follow—a once in a lifetime chance to have them both at your will.
So began the slow work of rocking your hips gently. Every time one of them moved deeper, quicker, the other eased up.
When Rhys thrust his hips up more forcefully, hitting deeper and more precisely in time to your downward grinds and circling, Eris would ease up, back to rocking slowly.
It wasn’t fast or rough—just deep and incredibly sensual. In fact, you couldn’t remember such an erotic experience.
You quite literally felt like you were being cherished—perhaps in the naughtiest of ways—by both males.
It didn’t take long to fall into a rhythmic pacing.
They both followed your lead as you moved, gentle and controlled. More like it was about the experience and pleasure, not just to finish. Though you’d already made up your mind that if they didn’t finish from this, you’d make it up to them. Hands, mouth, both, whatever it took.
While Rhys’s hands roamed your body—his hips slow and calculated with each movement—Eris spent his time leaving kisses any place he could.
It started on your lower back, up your spine—along the back of your neck and over your shoulder too, once you’d been able to lean backwards some.
“So good sweetheart, you feel so good,” Eris uttered against your shoulder.
The room slowly became filled with the symphony of yours and the males mixed moans and groans and that was enough to drive you wild. Knowing both Rhys and Eris were experiencing such pleasure because of you—your body slowly pulling each of them to the edge.
“Gods,” you moaned aloud, the overwhelming sensation starting to tingle again.
“That’s it, darling. Look at you, taking us so well,” Rhys praised, hands moving up your sides to grip your breasts.
Your hands braced on Rhys’s tanned chest as you leaned forward, the three of you having fallen into such a perfect rhythm you felt like you could move a little quicker, with more urgency as you approached release. The more you moved, the more your clit rubbed against his pubic bone and you keened, the friction the perfect addition to the pleasure you were feeling.
Rhys’s gaze was hot on you as he watched you, eyes lidded.
“Gods, look at you. Take what you need, darling. Get yourself off on me.”
You groaned aloud, head falling back. With each movement of your hips forward, Eris went with you, pushing back in. The combination of both stimulations plus the friction of your clit was sending you spiraling.
Rhys cursed as he felt your cunt squeeze him tight, your walls fluttering as you neared release.
“Fuck, you keep doing that and I’ll spill in you within seconds,” he grunted.
You were too far gone at this point to care how debauched you probably sounded—in words and noises.
“Do it,” you moaned, “Come in me, Rhys.”
Well, since you asked so nicely.
It was as if he was incapable of words so all he could do was say it mentally, inside your mind.
His hands guided you quicker and you felt your entire body tensing with each and every brush of your clit against him. You were so close, on the precipice of release—it just a hair's breadth away.
“I want to hear you again,” came the growl from behind you.
With that, it was like the leash of restraint snapped—as if your body only obeyed Eris's command and Eris’s command only. You fell apart, moaning loudly as you completely shattered.
With one last thrust upwards of his hips, Rhys was following, his pleasure filled groan and curse loud in your ears as he came in you. Moments later you felt the warmth, the excess, already making its way out of you. You knew you’d be dripping with him the moment his cock was no longer inside you.
“You look so pretty coming on my cock,” Rhys drawled, still breathless, “That image will stay with me for a long time.”
You were still reeling from your orgasm, to the point you hadn’t noted when Eris had gently removed himself from you. Nor had you yet to piece together that for the second time that day, he’d yet to come.
But you didn’t miss the snarl that Eris launched Rhys’s way at his comment.
“Testy,” Rhys muttered with a sly grin.
Finally moving off of Rhys, you collapsed next to him, still panting and sweaty, limbs still trembling.
You weren’t sure you could recover after such an experience.
Your chest had yet to slow, still heaving when you watched Rhys rise from the bed.
“I hate to have fun and run, but this High Lord still has a packed day,” Rhys mused.
From behind you, you heard Eris snort. You weren’t sure if he’d even moved yet as your back was to him.
With a wave of his hand, his clothes appeared in his hand from wherever he’d discarded them earlier. He dressed normally though, those violet eyes roaming over your worn out body still sprawled across the bed. Clearly he approved of the sight and how thoroughly he’d managed to wreck you.
“Thanks for the treat, darling. I had fun.”
Rhys gave you a wink and a smirk as he finished dressing.
“I suppose I’ll see you at home later, then?”
You gave him a dismissive wave, still too tired to speak and he chuckled, his eyes sliding past you to the male behind you.
“Thanks for the warm welcome, Eris. Even if you are as possessive as a mate.”
With one last amused glance at you—like he knew something you didn’t—Rhys winnowed away just as silently and quickly as he’d arrived earlier.
His strange words rang in your head, but your mind was still too fuzzy from release to hold on to anything too coherent at the moment.
“I thought he’d never leave.”
The warm, deep voice from behind you sent a chill skittering down your spine for some unknown reason. Though you realized in general you found it warm and comforting.
You just scoffed, practically melting into his touch as Eris’s hand slid along your bare side and over your stomach. He nipped along your shoulder, up the side of your neck until he reached your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth gently.
His whispered murmur made you shiver in delight.
“While that was an…interesting experience, I think I prefer having you all to myself.”
“You didn’t get enough before?” you mumbled, half teasing.
“Who said I got enough at all?”
His breath was warm against your neck, your ear and suddenly it was like the realization struck you like a stone to the head.
Your eyes snapped open, head whirling to him, eyes lowering below his waist to find his cock still hard, still eager—still in need of release.
Where Rhys was long and large, Eris was large and thick. So much so, that you’d wondered how the hell you’d managed to fit him in two of your holes already today.
For not once, but twice today you’d failed to bring him to completion.
Your face flamed in shame.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” you practically hissed.
“Because I was waiting until I got you alone,” Eris nuzzled your neck, lips peppering kisses along the skin, “You’d think I’d let him come in you and forfeit my turn? I thought you knew me better than that, sweetheart.”
You were still worn out, slightly reeling still from the activities prior, but you felt arousal stirring again, even if you wondered if you’d be able to handle any more.
Gentle fingers caressed the opposite side of your face, turning it to look into his again.
Just like earlier, it was as if words weren’t needed in what his expression portrayed. Right now, the—unusual for him—soft look on his face said that if you weren’t up to it, didn’t feel like you could take any more, that it would end here and he wouldn’t push you.
But your eyes scanned his face, so close now that you noticed in even more detail the freckles that scattered across his face. You didn’t understand why your breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze, but you found yourself leaning in, mouth searching for his like it had made up its mind before even you could.
But, yes, you wanted this.
You wanted him inside you, too.
The soft pout of his lips curved into a pleased smirk at whatever hunger and desire he surely saw on your face. In an unusually soft gesture, his face lowered to yours, nose brushing against yours before the barest touch of his lips ghosted yours.
Simultaneously, he maneuvered you, turning you completely on your back as he moved to hover over you.
“I want to see you. The moment I enter you, the moment you fall apart and the moment I fill you so deeply that only my seed will be prevalent. Not his.”
Your lashes fluttered, his words sparking heat so deep within you that you knew only he would be able to extinguish those flames.
He bent, mouth on your throat as he licked a line up it. Suddenly, you felt like your skin was overheating and despite feeling overwhelmed, overstimulated and worn out earlier, you were already ready for him to do something. Anything.
You felt the heavy press of him against your thigh and you groaned, the desire to have Eris buried in you now doubling.
His next words were practically a growl. In fact, they were half a shade away from being growled, if you were honest.
“I’m gonna fuck his scent right off you. Until it’s only mine left on you. Mine.”
You were entranced by the words, the lone word. You couldn’t have said why, either.
He’d pulled back enough to look down into your face, his hips pressing against yours. Automatically, despite the tremble in them from earlier activities, your legs lifted, naturally wrapping around his waist, trying to pull him closer. He purposely teased you, rubbing that magnificently hard cock against your once again throbbing core.
He groaned lowly, teasing himself just as much as he was you.
He bent low again, nose running a line along your cheek, his whispered murmur sensual and full of wanton desire.
“Perhaps I’m the lucky one today.”
You tried to move back so you could see his face, your brows scrunching in confusion.
“I’m the only one that gets to be inside all of you.”
You whimpered, body instinctually arching into his, ready to move onto this next destination that you wanted him to be in so desperately.
But you had to stop, even for a minuscule moment, realizing Eris was right. Rhys may have been in your mouth and cunt, but Eris was staking claim everywhere on you.
One hand slid up the outside of your thigh, his gaze locked on yours. He opened his mouth, then closed it again like he wasn’t sure what to say or even how to say what he was trying to.
But you managed to guess.
“I want this,” you breathed.
Exhaustion be damned. You weren’t going to pass up this opportunity either.
After all, you’d thought quite some time earlier that you’d make it up to Eris for going along with the arrangement in the first place.
Plus, you owed him, in more ways than one.
Your hands slid up his back, hips lifting in invitation as your lips met his.
Maybe this was why you subconsciously kept seeking him out the entire time because something about his lips on yours settled something deep within you.
Your head tilted as your mouth parted underneath his and his tongue swept in, sweeping up yours with his as they tangled and danced. His other hand drifted up your side, covering one of your breasts. Your answering moan was enough to make him chuckle against your lips as he broke the kiss.
He paused for a moment before giving you a series of shorter, more urgent kisses. It was like a burst of them came tumbling one after another, as if neither of you could stand to be parted for long.
His lips finally fell to your neck where he dropped a single kiss before you felt a stinging bite—a nip strong enough that you knew it would leave a mark. You hissed as his tongue licked over the now sensitive area.
“You look so pretty with my mark on you,” he mumbled.
“You’re ridiculous,” you huffed, though you made no effort to argue further.
“You should see the ones I left on your thighs. They’re beautiful.”
The whimpered moan that came in response was clearly what he liked to hear.
You pushed him back, legs falling from his waist, and he froze, seeming to think that you were putting an end to this. Though you managed to know if you did, Eris wouldn’t push you or shame you for it.
But that wasn’t the reason you wanted him to sit back.
You just wanted a moment.
For you hadn’t taken enough time to truly appreciate the bodies of the males you’d had the privilege of having, today. But you weren’t about to miss out on that advantage now.
You wanted to take in every inch of Eris’s pale physique, feel every dip and curve of the hard earned muscles on his body.
Your hands started at his biceps and you grinned, raising an impressed brow at him.
You weren’t immune to the incredibly in shape males that surrounded you in Prythian, but something about Eris’s body was so much more special than what you saw from day to day. You catalogued him trying to fight a smirk, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“I do love a strong male,” you quipped, nonchalantly, fingers squeezing the muscles gently.
“You’ve seen your fair share,” he responded, flippantly.
The truth snuck out before you could stop it, though.
“None of them are you.”
Those amber eyes snapped to yours and he seemed to be at a loss for words. Rather shocking for the male.
Your eyes roamed over him. His flushed cheeks from earlier exertion just made his disheveled hair look even more like it was perfectly tousled. The length fell over the front of his shoulders down his bare chest and you couldn’t help but find yourself in awe.
Why exactly, you couldn’t pinpoint. Maybe because you were one lucky female to even be invited to the now High Lord’s bed. Eris had always seemed to be picky with his lovers and you’d never really known his criteria—you still weren’t entirely sure how you’d made the cut.
But you were glad you had.
Your hands roamed up to the broad and strong shoulders, fingertips gentle there before dropping to his chest. You pressed your palms flat against the warm skin and your lips pressed a kiss to his collarbone.
Cauldron, you had a desire to spend hours worshipping his body. Not even in a sexual way, but just…touching, memorizing, exploring.
Like how he had the most random cluster of freckles scattered across his torso—some on the tops of his shoulders. It made you smile.
Your fingers finally trailed further downwards, brushing over the ridges of his abdomen, smirking when you felt the muscles jump and twitch under your touch.
He was beautiful.
Of course, Rhys was beautiful too.
But there was just something about Eris.
Your eyes shuttered as you glanced down, touch going with it. You wrapped a hand around his cock causing him to hiss and arch into your hand.
You gave him a solitary stroke before gently moving him to your soaked entrance. He took over from there, head prodding your opening, just enough to coat the tip in your arousal. Both of you groaned in varying levels of desperation.
He finally fell back into you, between your legs, as his hips pushed forward and then he was sliding all the way home.
“Gods,” you squeaked.
Actually squeaked.
Perhaps because you were so overwhelmed with the feel of him, the breathlessness of your current state, that the combination of the high pitched whine and moan came out sounding incredibly mouse-like.
He let out a raspy chuckle, sounding just as wrecked as you.
“I prefer you best like this,” he mumbled against your mouth as his hips started to move, slow drags of his cock against your walls making you moan.
“What, in my cunt?” you rasped, chest heaving from the overwhelming pleasure.
“No. Mine.”
There it was again.
You couldn’t explain why it sounded so final, so definite—not that you minded it—but his clear possessiveness was making you burn hotter for him.
Before you could answer, his speed picked up and he was pulling out and thrusting back into you at a steady rate.
“Eris,” your moan left you in an entire breath, your hips working in tandem with his.
All you could focus on was how amazing he felt as he moved inside you.
You felt him tense under your touch and you realized that during the entire time you’d had both males’ attention on you—while you’d done plenty of moaning—you hadn’t moaned either of their names.
Not until now.
It was like you couldn’t help it.
“Never heard a more beautiful sound,” he groaned, face falling into the crook of your neck.
You giggled breathlessly as you got a face full of his hair, the light, carefree laugh sounding just like you had earlier in the day when this entire thing had started just between you and him. You pushed it away, but your fingers thread through it as you tugged gently to pull his face up.
You brought your lips back to his as his hips rolled into yours.
You moaned lightly at the feeling of him nestled so wonderfully deep in you, appreciating him taking it easier on your slowly wearing out body. But a spark inside you made you crave deeply and somehow, this wasn’t enough yet.
As his hips retreated to thrust into you again, you pushed up off the bed, sitting upright. You resisted the urge to whimper at the disconnect as his cock slid fully out of you—like your body was missing what it was still craving.
His confusion was apparent, but you were persistent as you pushed him back with a hand on his chest, wanting to climb in his lap.
“I want you deeper.”
You could see the war battling on Eris’s face, the struggle between desire and what you’d quickly recognized as him trying to take care of you because of how thoroughly fucked you’d already been.
But, you needed more.
At least he didn’t stop you from climbing into his lap.
His hands glided over your back as he peered up in your face as you settled, reaching between you to guide him back to your entrance.
It took mere seconds for both of you to be joined again and the moan that left your mouth was nothing short of blissful.
You felt his touch, hesitant on you and you forced your eyes open to look down at him. His gaze was blazing—quite literally—the flames in his eyes causing you to tighten around his cock noticeably.
He still looked wary though, like he was fighting the temptation to let you take over after what occurred earlier.
“I still have a debt to settle,” you whispered.
It came out breathier, more seductive than you meant it to, but you were serious. You’d left him hanging twice today, you weren’t about to let it happen a third time.
As your hips rocked, you leaned down to capture his lips with yours, to knock that hesitant look from his face—to let him know you wanted this, needed this.
You don’t know what did it, but one hand came up to your head, gripping it in his hand as he kissed you back harder, hotter like he indeed was intent on making you forget Rhys all together.
When you parted for breath, you panted, “If I knew you were going to feel like this, I would’ve let you go first.”
His laugh burst out of him in a deep exhale, looking thoroughly amused.
“I might’ve kept you all to myself then.”
You couldn’t stop the shiver of delight his wicked words gave you.
Your hips moved rhythmically as you ground along his length, his hands stationing on your hips to guide your body.
“Guess it’s a good thing we decided to finish what we started earlier then, huh?” you asked, moaning at the way his own hips shifted and moved with yours.
“Sweetheart, if you hadn’t, I’d already decided I was going to,” Eris rasped.
Your head fell back, your hair dangling along your back as your hips moved faster.
You weren’t sure where the energy came from, how you didn’t feel half dead like you just had not long ago. But the feel of him in you, while also knowing you wanted him to have his pleasure too, motivated you further.
He groaned loudly as you subconsciously tightened around his cock repeatedly, not even meaning to, but just the sight of him looking blissed out had you unraveling.
Had this been what he looked like when his face had been between your legs? When he’d been behind you earlier?
If so, you’d clearly been missing out.
You felt out of control, like you couldn’t stop the absolute wildness of your behavior right now.
You lunged forward, licking up his throat, nipping at his jaw, fingers curling in the long locks of beautiful red hair.
One of his hands supported his weight against the mattress as he relentlessly thrust upwards into you, meeting every movement of yours. Your moans grew louder, more desperate and he was unraveling you slowly, but thoroughly.
“You want your heirs so badly? Why don’t you stake your claim and spill in me until I’m begging you to do it again,” you gritted out, barely managing to get the words out through your fog of ecstasy.
You didn’t think you’d ever heard the kind of growl like the kind that escaped his chest in response.
Your back arched as your fingers dug into his biceps as he unleashed himself, just like you suspected he was capable of. As his hips repeatedly rammed up into yours, chasing the release he likely had been dying for all day, his head dipped, taking one of your nipples in his mouth.
The added addition of the sucks and licks against the hardened bud nearly had you seeing stars as your fingers gripped his hair tighter.
“Fuck, Eris, yesss, Eris.”
You couldn’t stop—couldn’t manage to control your moans, your reactions, the way his name so easily fell off your tongue now.
The hand on your hip tightened further to nearly the point of pain with every moan of his name that fell from your lips.
Tingling had started and your limbs were shaking. You weren’t quite sure you could handle the intensity of what was to come. His head lifted from your breast as it fell back between his shoulders.
“Oh gods, sweetheart, fuck.”
Just from the way he sounded, the way he looked—as you managed to pry your eyes open again to watch him as he spiraled—you knew his release was close. You could feel him tense beneath you and you wanted it, wanted it so bad.
He moved you on him faster as a result.
You don’t know what possessed you as you leaned forward, tongue licking a line along the sharp cut of his jawline.
You whispered your comment in his ear, low and suggestive, despite your words not being filthy in nature at all.
“It’s your turn now, Eris.”
His reaction was immediate.
“Fuck!”
His loud groans filled your ears and then he was clinging to you, fingers digging into your hips as his release hit him swiftly—powerfully—and he spilled in you. His face dropped to your shoulder as the orgasm wracked his body, even as you still moved on him.
You felt the warmth from the inside out as it already began leaking from you before you’d fallen over the edge of your own release.
Eris’s face was still buried in your shoulder when he reached down, fingers teasing your clit to make sure you weren’t left unsatisfied.
It would’ve been impossible for him to, anyways.
Even still, your own release hit you just as hard.
You’d had two other orgasms prior to this today—both he’d technically had a hand in—but neither had felt as intense as this did. The built up tension that felt like it had grown exponentially earlier, snapped like a band pulled too tight as sheer pleasure overwrought your senses.
You may have screamed. You practically had for him once before, earlier.
The waves of euphoria crashed through you so rapidly you couldn’t process anything other than the pleasant feeling and the fact he held you so tight against him, like you belonged there, like he wasn’t about to let go.
Your breath sawed out of you as your eyes finally met his.
Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court looked wrecked.
By you.
Still, you shouldn’t have been surprised that a snarky remark—albeit weaker than his usual—was the first thing to come out of his mouth.
“Did that live up to your beloved Rhysand?”
You actually blinked, so dazed you couldn’t think straight.
“Who?”
His warm chuckle left you just as tingly as your post orgasm haze had. Your traitorous eyes dropped to his mouth and he answered your silent request, kissing you a final time.
Soft, sweet, appreciative for what you’d just given one another.
You felt settled, happy, sated. You could even go as far as to say positively blissful.
All too soon the kiss ended and you knew it was well past time for you to move. To dress, get back home and back to the real world.
You climbed out of his lap, despite missing his touch already. As you gathered your clothes, pulling on your undergarments, you spoke.
“If I haven’t said it already, congratulations on your throne, High Lord.”
You couldn’t stop the thoughts that flitted across your mind—images of being spread out on said throne, underneath Eris. Reinforcing the idea that you very much hoped to do something like this again.
Not like what happened earlier, but with him.
With just Eris.
But, you stayed focused on the male in your presence, banishing those thoughts for now.
He was sprawled out now on the bed, his head resting in his propped hand. His red hair halfway draped over one shoulder, completely in disarray now, his freckled, pale face slick with a sheen of sweat.
He looked like he was left as satisfied as you felt.
His quip came quick as lightning, not that that was unusual for the male.
“Hope you don’t forget who your favorite High Lord truly is.”
Your eyes raked down his naked form, appreciatively, as an insatiable hunger started deep within you—alongside a strange sensation of unsettledness, like you were leaving a piece of you behind. You couldn’t fathom what was causing you to feel such a way.
Your answering words were filled with sensual familiarity and intimacy laced your tone. For what you and he’d shared today.
For there was a strange connection you seemed to share with the High Lord of Autumn.
Summary: A month after being brought to Velaris, Y/N remains hidden away, struggling with the monstrous changes forced upon her.
Warnings: References to sexual assault and severe physical violence, trauma, depression, self-isolation, self-starvation, thoughts of revenge and murder.
A/N: This is a collection of One-shots organized in chronological order for a continuous story. Parts to this story may not be posted in timeline order.
WC: 2.7k
You sit alone in the apartment with every curtain drawn.
Velaris is a city built to worship light. Sunlight pours through its streets during the day, gilding the pale stone buildings and glinting off the Sidra until the river resembles something poured from molten glass. At night, lanterns burn along the bridges. Music drifts from open windows. Stars seem to hang impossibly close above the rooftops, as though the sky itself has bent down to admire Rhysand’s precious hidden city.
You hate it.
You hate the laughter beyond the walls. You hate the footsteps passing beneath your windows. You hate the couples wandering home after midnight, their voices soft, their bodies warm, their hearts beating steadily beneath skin they have never been forced to despise.
Most of all, you hate that you can hear every one of them.
Their heartbeats thread through the darkness.
Some are slow and restful. Others flutter quickly with excitement or nerves. Children possess a rapid, delicate rhythm. The elderly move more sluggishly, their blood crawling through thinning veins. Even the animals make themselves known to you. The mice beneath the floorboards, the birds nesting beneath the roof, a cat prowling through the alley behind the building.
You hear them all.
Every beat.
Every pulse.
Every warm, living thing surrounding the corpse sitting motionless in the dark.
It has been one month since Morrigan dragged you out of the Hewn City. One month since you awoke in a strange bed in a home that had been carved somewhere into the mountainside, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and the acrid scent of healing magic. One month since a solemn male with scarred hands told you that whatever had been done to you could not be undone.
You had died, that was the simple truth of it. Your heart had stopped. Your lungs had emptied. Your blood had cooled inside your body. Then something had dragged you back.
The healer had called it a transformation. She had spoken carefully, as though to soften what she was telling you. Your body had repaired itself after death, but it had not returned to what it once was. Your anatomy had changed at the deepest level. Your organs remained inside you, yet most had become useless remnants of a life you no longer possessed.
You did not need to breathe, you did not need to sleep. Food could no longer sustain you. Your heart would never beat again. You had pressed your fingers against your own wrist while she spoke, searching for the familiar pulse beneath your skin.
Nothing.
The healer continued talking. Morrigan stood in the corner with blood covering her hands and fury sharpening every line of her face. High Lord Rhysand remained beside the doorway, dressed in black and watching you with an expression you could not decipher. They had all looked at you as though you were a tragedy.
Rhysand offered you a place in Velaris after that.
Not inside his grand mountain home. You had made it clear you would sooner walk into sunlight and discover whether it could burn you than remain surrounded by his Inner Circle. Instead, he found you an apartment overlooking one of the quieter streets and gave you unrestricted access to one of his accounts.
A generous offer.
A guilty one.
He had not harmed you, but he was High Lord of the court where it happened. Morrigan was his cousin. The Hewn City belonged to him, even if he preferred pretending the place only existed when he needed soldiers or someone to intimidate.
Perhaps he believed gold could balance the scales. You had been happy to let him try. During the first few days, you spent recklessly. Furniture, dresses, jewelry, rugs imported from the Summer Court. Bottles of perfume and silken bedding for a body that would never sleep again.
You bought everything that might have appealed to the female you had been before. The female who enjoyed beautiful things because she believed she had an entire life ahead of her in which to use them. The female who had walked through the Hewn City with her chin held high, fully aware of every eye that followed her. You had understood that world. Its cruelty had never frightened you because you knew how to wield cruelty of your own. You had status, wealth, beauty, and a family name that opened doors others were forced to kneel before.
You had been envied, wanted, and untouchable. Then you met Royce. Now expensive gowns hang untouched inside your wardrobe. Bottles of perfume sit unopened on the vanity. The sheets remain perfectly arranged because you have not entered the bed since the apartment became yours.
You spend most nights sitting on the chaise near the cold fireplace, staring at the ceiling while the city sleeps around you. There is no exhaustion to pull you under. No dreams or relief, only memory. Hands pinning your wrists, laughter echoing through the trees, the metallic scent of your own blood. Royce’s voice near your ear, thick with drink and vicious amusement as he told you what you deserved.
You squeeze your eyes shut, though it did little to help. The images remain carved behind your eyelids. A month ago, your eyes had belonged to you. The color they had once been had been familiar. They had reflected your moods, your beauty, your lineage. Now they were black. Pupil and iris swallowed together until nothing remains except endless, unnatural darkness. The healer said they might change once you began feeding properly. The tiny, silver-eyed creature who watched you with far too much understanding said hunger was consuming whatever humanity remained visible in you.
Your skin is too smooth. It has the polished, untouched quality of porcelain rather than flesh now. No warmth rises beneath it, no blush touches your cheeks. Small imperfections you once complained about have vanished completely, leaving behind a face that is more flawless than it ever was in life and infinitely more horrifying.
Your hair catches the dim light with an unnatural gloss. Your nails never break. Wounds seal almost immediately. Your hearing has sharpened until the whisper of fabric several rooms away sounds like a shout.
And the strength, that may be the worst of it. You shattered the first glass you attempted to hold. Broke a drawer from its hinges simply by pulling it open. Cracked the stone edge of the bathing basin when the water failed to warm you, no matter how hot you made it. Your body no longer feels like yours. Every movement must be considered. Every touch restrained. You are trapped inside something designed to hunt, while the instincts of the female you once were recoil from every new appetite.
Blood.
The word alone fills you with disgust.
The silver eyed female offered to help obtain it discreetly. She explained that blood could be taken willingly, stored, delivered. No one in Velaris would need to know what lived in the apartment above them. You had nearly struck her. The humiliation of it had burned hotter than rage.
You would not drink from another person. You refused to crouch over some unfortunate body and tear into it like an animal. So you have not fed. For nearly four weeks, you have allowed the hunger to hollow you out.
It does not feel like ordinary starvation. There is no ache in your stomach, no weakness trembling through your limbs. Instead, your throat burns endlessly, as though you swallowed flame and it lodged beneath your tongue. Your mouth aches. Your senses stretch farther with every passing day, reaching through walls and floors for the life you refuse to take.
You have stopped leaving the apartment because you do not trust yourself among them. Perhaps that is what you deserve. Exile, darkness, a living grave where no one has to look at the monster you became.
A knock sounds against the door. You know who stands on the other side before he speaks. His scent reaches you first. Citrus, night air, something dark and clean that has become irritatingly recognizable. Beneath it is the steady, powerful beat of his heart.
Rhysand.
His is louder than the others, richer. Though you do not know why.
You remain motionless on the chaise, staring at the ceiling and waiting for him to decide you are not home.
“I know you’re in there.” Your jaw tightens.
Bastard.
You make no move. The hallway falls silent, though his heart continues beating beyond the door.
“I only want to make sure you’re all right.” A laugh nearly escapes you.
All right. Your heart does not beat. You have not slept in a month. You cannot step onto a crowded street without imagining your teeth sinking into someone’s throat. What part of that sounds all right?
You consider continuing to ignore him, but Rhysand possesses the arrogance of a male who has spent centuries being obeyed. He will remain outside all evening if necessary. Worse, he may use his authority to enter without permission.
You rise.
Crossing the apartment takes less than a second when you stop restraining yourself. The sudden speed still unsettles you. One moment, you are beside the fireplace. The next, your hand is wrapped around the door handle. You force yourself to pause before opening it.
Rhysand stands in the hallway dressed in his usual black, every piece of clothing tailored perfectly to his body. No crown, no visible weapons. Just that infuriatingly composed expression and violet eyes that take in everything.
His gaze moves over you.
“You have seen me,” you say. “Now leave.”
His eyes return to yours. “May I come in?”
“No.” One dark eyebrow rises. Apparently, High Lords are not accustomed to being denied entrance.
You begin closing the door, but his hand catches the edge before you can shut it. He does not push, but the interruption sends a flash of anger through you.
“Why are you here?” you demand. “I thought you and your little collection of friends had agreed to leave me alone.”
“I agreed to give you space.”
“And yet here you are.”
“I’ve noticed you stopped using the account.” For several seconds, you only stare at him. That is why he came? To investigate the absence of charges?
“I have everything I need.”
“No food. No visits to taverns or cafés. No transportation charges. No purchases outside this district.”
“I do not require food.” His expression shifts slightly. You catch the flicker of regret before he conceals it.
Pity.
Your grip tightens around the door.
“You haven’t been seen in nearly a month,” he says after a moment.
“What does that have to do with you?”
“I was concerned something had happened.”
“Something did happen.” Your voice comes out sharper than intended. The hallway seems to darken around him. Not from anger, it seemed, but from the power responding instinctively beneath his skin.
“You found what remained afterward,” you continue. “You had your healer examine it. You placed it in a pretty apartment and gave it money. Your obligation has been fulfilled.”
His jaw flexes.
“You are not an obligation.”
“How reassuring.”
“You are also not an ‘it.’” The words strike something inside you that you immediately smother. You attempt to close the door again, but Rhysand shifts forward, intending to prevent it. You place one hand against his shoulder and barely push.
He jerks backward half a step and both of you go still. Your fingers remain pressed against the fine fabric covering his shoulder. Beneath your palm is heat, muscle. A pulse beating somewhere lower, hidden by flesh and bone. You withdraw your hand as though burned. Rhysand looks from you to the place you touched.
“That’s new,” he says quietly.
You move to shut the door, but his next words stop you.
“Have you fed?”
Your body becomes perfectly still.
The burning in your throat intensifies. “That is none of your concern.”
“Amren said she offered—”
“I do not care what that creature told you.”
“She was trying to help.”
“She offered me blood as if I were some rabid animal she could keep pacified with a bowl.”
“She offered you what your body requires.”
“My body required air once. It required sleep.” Your voice rises with every word. “Should she offer those as well?”
Rhysand’s expression hardens, but he does not interrupt. You wish he would. You wish he would become angry, command you to show gratitude, give you some reason to despise him without complication. Instead, he stands there and lets you unravel.
“I can hear everyone in this building,” you say. “The male downstairs has a weak valve in his heart. The female across the hall is with child, though I doubt she knows it yet. There are three people walking along the street, and one of them cut his hand recently. I can smell the wound from here.”
Rhysand glances toward the stairwell.
“I cannot go outside without knowing exactly how much blood surrounds me.” Your voice lowers. “And you ask whether I have fed.”
His eyes settle on the black emptiness of yours. “You’re starving yourself.”
“I am controlling myself.”
“You won’t be able to forever.”
“Then perhaps your precious city should be grateful I have locked the door.” A muscle feathers in his jaw. The word hangs between you.
Rhysand studies you for a long moment. You wonder whether he is attempting to enter your mind again. He tried once while the healer examined you. You felt him brush against your mental walls like a hand testing locked iron. Instinct had risen before thought, sealing every entrance until your mind became a fortress.
His surprise had been almost satisfying. Now, however, you feel nothing from him. Only his heartbeat. Steady and alive, and Infuriatingly enticing.
You retreat one step into the apartment. “Leave.”
“Y/N—”
“Leave before I discover whether High Lord blood tastes different from everyone else’s.” The threat should disturb him. Instead, something unreadable flashes in his gaze.
“I’ll have something sent,” he says.
“I will throw it into the street.”
“Then throw it away.”
The apartment falls silent. For a moment, even the heartbeats around you seem to fade beneath the roar filling your head. Your hand closes around the door so tightly that the wood cracks. You look past him toward the dark stairwell.
You know you cannot become what you were. You cannot return to your family with your warm skin and beating heart. You cannot put on the wedding gown that waited for you and pretend Royce had merely been a mistake in judgment.
That life ended in that alley way.
But Royce still has his.
That realization settles through you slowly. For the last month, your anger has been buried beneath disgust. You have directed every hateful thought inward, punishing your own body for what those males turned it into. Meanwhile, they are alive.
Royce may be drinking in one of the Hewn City’s private rooms. Perhaps his friends laugh with him. Perhaps they tell the story in whispers, congratulating one another for silencing the female who had dared believe herself above them.
Do they know you survived?
Do they care?
The hunger inside you shifts.
“You should go,” you say. Something in your voice must warn Rhysand that the conversation has ended. His eyes narrow slightly.
“What are you thinking?”
“That you have overstayed your welcome.” His mouth curves faintly, but the expression vanishes when he sees your face.
“You’re planning something.” You meet his gaze. The darkness in your eyes reflects nothing back at him.
“Have a good evening, High Lord.” You close the door. This time, he allows it.
You remain on the other side, listening to his heart in the hallway. It does not immediately move away. For nearly a minute, Rhysand stands beyond the cracked wood, considering whether to knock again.
Eventually, his footsteps retreat. You wait until the building door closes below, then you turn. You cross into the bedroom you have never used and open the wardrobe. Your fingers trail past silks and delicate fabrics until they find something black, practical, and fitted close enough that no one can use it to restrain you.
You lay the clothes across the untouched bed. Next, you open the velvet-lined box resting on your vanity. Jewelry gleams beneath the dim light. Pretty remnants of a female who once believed appearance was her sharpest weapon. You close the box again. You will not need jewels where you are going.
In the sitting room, the city continues breathing beyond the curtained windows. Yet your attention turns southward, toward the mountain carved with halls you once knew better than your own reflection.
Description: You can’t stand the High Lord of the Night Court. You’ve never had a wholly pleasant encounter with him, not even while living in his house. While out on a date in Velaris with a male you met at Rita’s, you run into said High Lord. When the mating bond snaps into place, you’re forced to wonder just how deep your hate for Rhysand runs.
Warnings: None really!
A/N: Thank you so so much @lunaseleneceleste for this request! I’m such a fiend for enemies to lovers so I had to jump right on it as soon as I saw the request in my inbox. Read Part Two if you want more of these two! Requests are still open so feel free to send any in! Thanks for all the love!
Saviour complex didn’t even begin to describe Rhysand. The mighty High Lord of the Night Court had a nasty habit of picking up strays, desperate to nurse them back to health. That’s what he’d done with you, after all. When your shop had been desecrated during the war, your little apartment above it gone too, he’d offered you “refuge” in his house. His house, if it could even be called that, was a ginormous manor sitting high above the city you loved so much.
You’d been hesitant to accept his offer but you didn’t really have other options. Without the shop you were without income, and a place like Velaris wasn’t easy to inhabit with no money. You hadn’t realized, when you’d agreed, that the House of Wind was a giant prison. Sure, it was well-stocked, but the ten thousand steps down the mountain were obviously unfaceable.
Rhys had promised that he’d send someone daily to fly you down, winnow you into the city so you could do as you wished, but that wasn’t an easy promise to keep. Most days, you’d be greeted by a member of his inner circle and transported wherever you liked, but some days you were left entirely alone, trapped in the house with only your thoughts.
It was days like these that let your distaste for your High Lord really brew. Hours upon hours of solitude left you angry with Rhysand for his empty promises. Why would he pull you out of the city just to lock you up in this godsdamned house? Why would he promise you freedom only to neglect you?
Some part of you knew that his business was natural with his position. You understood that you couldn’t realistically expect his personal arsenal of Illyrians to be at your beck and call. Rationality couldn’t stop your personal vendetta against the High Lord, though. Your anger continued to grow, evident in your tone every time he stopped by to check in on you.
The mere sight of him was enough to set you on edge. Then he’d speak to you like you were some sad thing, some frail creature that needed his help. So you’d lace your tone with venom, sneer at him, keep him far away. It irritated him, you could see it on his face whenever you snapped at him to leave you alone. By the end of each conversation you’d had with him, he’d snapped right back at you.
In the two months you’d lived at the house, you couldn’t bring yourself to like Rhysand any more than you had at the very beginning. Despite your trying relationship with Rhysand, you did like his friends. Cassian, while cocky, was kind and funny. Azriel intimidated you at first, but now? You know he’s not so scary if you’re pleasant to him.
You did your best to keep some consistency in your life. You still saw your friends in the city, still went out to Rita’s for a drink. Sometimes you’d even go out on the town with your new friends, learning that Cassian and Mor were a terrible karaoke duo and Azriel had a shockingly lovely singing voice. It was on one of these nights that you’d met Lorel.
Lorel was a sweet, brown-haired fae male about one hundred years your senior. He had a handsome face and a smile that screamed normalcy. He seemed like just what you needed, so you’d smiled and giggled and nodded along with his flirting. You got supportive nods and winks from Mor and Cassian, Azriel’s face unreadable, as usual. When Lorel had asked to take you to dinner that weekend, you’d agreed.
The day of your date with Lorel arrived without consequence. Mor came by with Cassian, ready to take you down to the city. You’d summoned Mor up to your room to assess your outfit and she’d scanned you up and down carefully.
“Yeah, you look amazing. You should just stay here with me instead,” she teased lightly, offering you a smirk that held nothing but sweetness in it.
“Tempting,” you replied.
You took one last look at yourself in the mirror and smiled. Not damn bad. Mor threw an arm around your shoulders, leading you down the stairs. Cassian grinned at you from the bottom, nodding at your appearance.
“You clean up nice,” he said.
“Thanks, Cass. Wish I could say the same for you,” you teased.
He laughed, throwing his head back with the motion. He set his hands on his hips, nodding for the door.
“So, am I flying us out or what?”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Lorel had picked a nice little restaurant in the core of Velaris for your dinner date. The place was cute, the food was yummy, and the conversation was easy. Everything was just as you’d expected it to be, devastatingly normal. You reminded yourself that this was what you’d wanted, something easy and relaxed and ordinary. As dinner came to a close, though, you found yourself feeling woefully unfulfilled.
You weren’t an asshole, though. You kept up your content smiles and small laughs, making sure that Lorel didn’t feel the disappointment slowly seeping through you. It seemed like Lorel was having a great time, actually, and he suggested that you walk to a small dessert stand nearby for a treat. You obliged, despite the allure of your bed and a good book.
Walking along the moon-lit streets, Lorel’s hand reached down to gently take hold of yours. You bit back a sigh as you laced your fingers with his, not too eager to make him think you were enjoying this too much. He smiled over at you, a warm and pleasant grin that should’ve made your heart flutter. It did nothing for you, though. When he looked away from you, his expression faltered, his steps coming to a halt.
“Is that the High Lord,” he asked, furrowing his brows, “and is he glaring at me?”
You followed Lorel’s line of sight and, sure enough, your gaze fell upon Rhysand. He was standing a little ways off from you and your date, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. His eyes were icy as they bore into Lorel, as if they were tearing him apart bit by bit. Lorel looked back over at you, confusion written all over his face. As Lorel looked to you, so did Rhysand.
His violet eyes flashed, an emotion you couldn’t quite read flickering in them. Your eyes locked and you held Rhysand’s gaze in challenge. He met you head on, refusing to tear his eyes away as his nostrils flared in irritation. You wouldn’t back down either; you refused to lose. As you continued to wage a war against one another with your eyes, something snapped in your gut.
The sensation was sharp, like a taut cord being cut with the snap of scissors. Then it was warm, like a soapy, lavender-scented bath. Then it was hot, like the fires that flickered and popped in the hearths of the house. Your body locked, your senses flared, and you couldn’t, physically couldn’t, bring yourself to break Rhysand’s stare.
That’s mine, your traitor of a mind growled to you, he belongs to me. I want him, my mate.
The realization seemed to hit you and Rhysand at the same time, if the way he stumbled backward a step was any indication. Your heart thudded against your ribcage, threatening to leap out and run right over to Rhysand. You scowled, willing your instincts to shut the fuck up. Mate or not, Rhysand pissed you off. You weren’t just going to go running to him because the Mother supposedly thinks you’d make cute babies.
You finally ripped your eyes off of his, forcing yourself to look at Lorel. The poor male was so lost, staring at you like an open-mouthed fish out of water. You felt guilt fill your chest, rising up your throat. How did you even explain this? You stammered out a stupid sound that was supposed to be “I’m sorry,” but you couldn’t seem to find your voice.
Lorel, now more concerned than anything else, reached a hand up to rest on your cheek. You felt a hot surge of rage flash through your newfound bond with the High Lord and you heard an animalistic growl come from where Rhysand was now stalking toward you two. Lorel, of course, noticed, and turned to face the High Lord. He tucked you part ways behind him, which only seemed to make Rhysand angrier. Lorel’s face blanched, but, to his credit, he kept his expression as steely as he could.
“Rhysand, stop,” your voice had both males’ attention snapping to you.
“But I-”
“Don’t even think about it.”
You stepped out from behind Lorel, your jaw clenched. Your hands were balled up in fists and you squared your shoulders as you faced Rhysand head on.
“I don’t care what you think is going to happen here, but I’m going to tell you. You are going to turn the fuck around and leave us alone. You are not going to wait for me at the house, you are not going to follow us from a distance. You are going to go home and sulk all you want and then… then we can talk tomorrow. After breakfast.”
Rhysand blinked at you, stunned as if you’d slapped him across the face. Any arguments he had prepared, any words of possessiveness he’d intended to spew at Lorel, died behind his teeth. You watched indecision flicker over his features, his eyes flittering from you to Lorel and back to you. He swallowed thickly, a thrum of disappointment pulsing in the bond. He nodded, opening his mouth before closing it again. He nodded once more as he turned around, his wings flaring outward as he shot off into the sky.
“So, you two know each other,” Lorel said, a brow raised.
“I… yes. Mutual friends or something.”
“I’m sorry if it’s rude to ask but do you have a history or something? He seemed like he wanted to bite my head clean off.”
“No, nothing like that,” you shook your head, choosing your words carefully, “we just have a bit of a complicated relationship. And I think it just got a whole lot more complicated.”
Lorel gave a small hum of understanding, shifting awkwardly on his feet.
“I, um, your scent changed. When you were staring at him.”
Your eyes widened, your heartbeat quickening.
“Is he your mate?”
That was the question, wasn’t it. You supposed the answer was yes, but you didn’t know anything about him. How could he be your mate if he was a stranger. A stranger and an asshole.
“I think so, yes.”
“All due respect, but I don’t think I’m suicidal enough to get caught up with the High Lord’s mate.”
You laughed softly at Lorel’s sheepish admittance, smiling at him.
“I don’t blame you one bit. For what it’s worth, I think you’re a really nice guy.”
“Thank you. I had a nice time tonight. Can I at least walk you home?”
“Oh, uh, that’s alright. It’s kind of a long walk. Lots of stairs.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
You were a mess of anxiety the next morning. After splitting off with Lorel, you’d found Cassian and Mor at the meeting point. Rita’s was a lousy meeting point in retrospect, because they were pretty damn drunk when you found them. They were aware enough to listen intently to your recount of your date as Cassian flew you into the house. They’d been shocked, to say the least, and truly had not one ounce of helpful advice to offer you.
Just talk to him, Cassian had said. Easier said than done, you’d wanted to reply. He was right, though, all you could do now was talk to Rhysand. Maybe figure out what in the hells you were supposed to do with this whole soul-bound, fated match from the Mother herself thing.
True to your word, Rhysand arrived at the house not fifteen minutes after you’d finished shoving your food around your breakfast plate. He was dressed casually, his hair haphazardly brushed back, no crown in sight. He didn’t look like a High Lord like this, he just looked like a male. He found you in the sitting room, your feet curled under you as you sat on the large, velvet couch.
“Good morning,” Rhysand said softly, testing the waters.
The bond pulsed with anxiety and you let out a small breath of relief. At least it was mutual.
“Morning,” you answered.
“I,” he started, taking a careful step toward you, “I’m sorry for last night. I should’ve controlled myself better. I just wasn’t expecting…”
You nodded because you understood. Cassian had given you a very basic explanation of what the mating bond felt like to a male, and you were honestly impressed Rhysand had been as well behaved as he was.
“I don’t think either of us were expecting it.”
“True. It was very sudden.”
Neither of you would even say what it was. This dance around the word bond like it was a curse. It isn’t that you were against it, you weren’t even against him being your mate, but as things stood now you had little interest. You’d never managed a conversation that ended well, you didn’t see why that would change now.
“I don’t want you to feel like this bond takes away your choices,” Rhysand broke the silence that had settled awkwardly in the room.
There it was. The awful truth of the mating bond. It did take away your choice, didn’t it? You’d be tied to Rhysand one way or another, whether you wanted to or not.
“It kind of does.”
“No,” he shook his head, daring another step forward, “if you decide that you want nothing to do with me for the rest of our lives, I will stay away.”
The promise carried an intense weight. To find a mate was relatively uncommon, to deny the bond once you found it? That would do terrible things to someone, especially a male. You looked at him, your eyes scanning over his face carefully. You found no dishonesty there, only sincere, raw vulnerability.
“Would that not be painful?”
“Not any more painful than forcing yourself into a bond you don’t want would be,” he replied.
His answer almost made you angry. It was only natural that Rhysand would sacrifice himself to help the poor, destitute little Fae who lived in his house, spent his money, ate his food. You couldn’t muster the anger though. For some reason, looking at him in the morning light, you couldn’t be mad at him for offering you this out.
“How am I supposed to just… decide that?”
He let out a long breath through his nose, considering your question carefully. He took a few more steps toward you, now close enough to kneel down on the floor before you so he could be closer to your eye level. To offer you the high ground. To give you room to breathe.
“You don’t have to decide now, but I will tell you what I’ve decided, if that’s alright.”
You nodded, and that was all the permission he needed to go on speaking.
“I’ve decided that if you are my mate, I’d like to know you more. I want you to know me, too. Not the High Lord that the city sees, that you’ve seen so far. The me that isn’t so…”
“Obnoxious?” You supplied.
“Well, yes,” he chuckled, earning him a small smile from you, “I want to earn a place in your life. Starting with an evening, if you’ll have me.”
You considered his words, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth. For the first time, you found yourself in a conversation with Rhysand you were actually enjoying. He was being honest, you could tell. He wasn’t above begging, you were sure, if you asked him to. Here he was, already on his knees for you. You sighed softly, ignoring the way your heart was beating quickly and your stomach was fluttering from the look in his eyes alone.
“One evening,” you said, making his eyes light up instantly, “I will try one evening. If it goes well, perhaps you will earn a second.
“Deal,” he agreed immediately, his head bobbing with a nod.
Cute, you thought, then internally kicked yourself for the thought. He looked like a damn puppy, though, wagging its tail and waiting for a treat. You supposed one evening wouldn’t be the end of the world. Not if he kept looking at you like you hold the deed to the royal treasury.
What you were in for with this High Lord, you weren’t sure. You were sure, however, that it would be one interesting story.
summary: During a Spring Court festivity, Rhysand is coming face to face with fate itself.
word count: over 4.9k
warnings: slight alteration of previous events/timelines (I guess), attraction at first sight, precognitive dreams, a hint of the future, reader is described as having animal understanding abilities (like Zoolingualism, Omnilingualism, and Animal Telepathy), soft banter, Eris Vanserra is mentioned, meddling noble mothers, abstract mention of mating bonds, dancing, reader is the firstborn daughter of spring and the older sister of Tamlin
author’s notes: I may or may not work on something else for Rhysand and Spring Court!Reader, and I kind of wanted to write their first encounter but didn’t want to include it in the other fanfiction. This is set sometime before the first War and everyone is keeping up friendly appearances lol. Enjoy! Dividers are by @chrisssiren
“And who might you be?”
The stranger turned at the sound of her voice, something strangely tugging in his chest. She lifted a brow, hands pushed into her waist, and her skirts swished softly when she corrected her stance on the pristine marble floor. The sounds of the festivities behind him echoed through the hall, reminding him where he should reside, where he should mingle, and force a smile on his face as if he enjoyed being forced to attend this spring-colored nightmare when he would prefer to read or even spar with his brother and sister back home.
But no, his mother had forced him to come with them, forcing him to mingle and fight off the advances of every attending lady.
Well, except for this one, and he would certainly not mind mingling with her.
She was beautiful, even more so than the most beautiful High Fae he had ever come across, her features striking, and her eyes captured him in a way that rarely anyone ever achieved.
Eyes that now turned colder, mocking. “Are you unable to speak? Poor thing,” she cooed, and a small, snow-white bird with flame-kissed wings landed on her shoulder, whistling and humming as if the Fae would understand it. And apparently, she did. He watched her lean into the bird, gaze never leaving his very being, while nodding softly along, the cocked brow rising a few notches.
When the bird finished with its report—he had never seen a creature like it, and he was fascinated—the male cleared his throat, bowing deeply at his hips, a hand flaring out. “My name is Rhysand. Apologies if I intruded.” A soft chuckle followed his introduction, and he watched her intently as the sound of it raked along his spine like a lover’s touch. It was the most pleasant feeling, and he wished he would never forget it. “Well, well. Rhysand.” He swallowed hard at the sound of his name on her lips—it had never sounded better, the syllables flowing like a melody atop her voice. “You indeed turned from guest to intruder, and I do not take those missteps lightly. Might I suggest you may return to the gardens? Dinner should be served any moment now if you were looking for something to eat.”
A smile tucked at her lips, and the bird hopped across the expanse of her delicate shoulder wrapped in embroidered silk. Rhysand couldn’t tear his gaze away from her eyes, feeling trapped and ready to drown in them. But he bowed again, a hand pressed to his chest, apologies written across his face. “It was not my intention, my lady. I was merely looking for a place to hide from the eligible ladies attending. Perhaps you know how parents tend to try to force their children into presumed happiness.” He couldn’t help but smile at her soft giggle, watching her try to hide it behind a raised hand, the bird looking positively offended at her display of genuine emotion toward him, the male, the intruder.
She cocked her head slightly, reminding him of a delicate bird, probably because the creature on her shoulder moved the same way the moment she had moved, mimicking the High Fae. “I do know a thing or two about meddling mothers,” she admitted and threw a glance across his shoulder back into the gardens. “Speaking of them, I think our intentions were suspected and we have been found.”
A moment later, a voice called for the female. “YN, Lord Vanserra has been looking for you!” Rhysand blinked as he turned to let the High Fae pass, finally learning her name and realizing a crucial truth: She was no ordinary High Fae. She was the firstborn child of the High Lord of Spring, the eldest, the older sister to Tamlin. The one supposed to be a son to rule this court has she not been born a daughter because few courts strayed from the rule of agnatic primogeniture—the right of succession for the firstborn son. He had never seen her; he had only heard of her because her father would not allow her to attend court festivities outside of Spring, and even within her very own home, she was supposedly expected to stay in her rooms.
What a lucky day today was.
The female rolled her eyes at her mother’s words. “Which of the bunch, mother?” The High Fae pressed a hand to her chest at her daughter’s words. “Mind your tone, petal,” she warned before taking a calming breath and plastering a smile on her face. “Eris has been looking for you, sweet thing, and I expect you to dance with him at least once tonight. He is a striking and handsome match for a young lady—and especially for you.” The Lady of Spring turned and smiled at him as he bowed deeply. “My Lady,” he offered a greeting, and felt her hand pat his shoulder gently. “I am so happy to see you again, Rhysand. Please, excuse us. My daughter has been straying away far too long, haven’t you, petal? Come now. Come, come.”
Rhysand watched her as she was pulled away by her mother, a soft chuckle escaping him as she threw a helpless glance over her shoulder, mouthing “Help me” in his direction, dread settling on her features. He followed both females back outside, the setting sun making the gardens glow, and twinkling lights were lighted by the servants. He took his place at the sideline of the prepared dance floor, violet eyes never leaving YN’s form, tracking her every move, her every breath. He couldn’t explain it—the need to keep watch over her.
But there he was, standing on the grass, ladies flocking in his back, hoping to gain his attention, but he watched the firstborn daughter of Spring step up to Eris Vanserra, the firstborn son of Autumn, who had the reputation to be almost as horrible as his father. And yet, he looked almost smitten when the High Fae in her embroidered silk dress stepped up to him, curtseying for him while he bowed at his hips, gathering her delicate hand in his to press a charming kiss to it, eyes never leaving her face, watching her like a fox ready to attack. And Rhysand was not sure if he liked the prospect of it.
Quickly, he looked for his mother, and when he found her, he let his mental shields slide open, just a fraction. “Do you know if she is promised to Autumn?” Like a prized cow on market day, ready to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. He didn’t let those words slip. His mother watched across the gathered people, his father next to her, and one of her brows lifted in question, but quickly, her eyes jumped toward YN, who swallowed hard when her hand found its place in Eris’s hand.
The musicians started playing the first notes of the dance.
“Not that I have heard of anything, my love, and you know how her mother likes to tease with such revelations. But…”
This was all he needed to know to step forward and be bold, bolder than he already acted around the courts. It bordered on outrageousness and indecency what he was about to do—to steal a lady from another male’s arms in the middle of a dance, but he could not care less if he was honest with himself. Rhys did not know what had befallen him ever since being caught by her, and he could not spare the time to dissect the emotions flaring inside his chest, making his heart ache in a way it had never ached before, nor was he sure whether this all was merely fate. What he knew was that he did not like the sight of Eris Vanserra dancing with YN, so he put an end to it.
His presence was enough to make Autumn growl. “Leave, Night Court. We are busy,” he almost seethed and tried to twirl YN in another turn, but he smoothly stepped into the movement and claimed her hand in a few short, quick grasps. “She is. You are not.” With that, Rhysand spun her away, far away from a seething Eris, pulling her with him, spinning her with ease as if they had done this sort of thing for hundreds of years. Their steps were flawless, movements in harmony as if they knew one another.
And her eyes… Well, they had captured him completely yet again.
“He will not forget this,” she warned him with that soft voice, making another tingle run down his spine. He led her through another series of harmonic steps, her skirts swishing across the polished floor. “I hope so. Someone should have seen him to his place a long time ago. I am happy I had the pleasure of doing a good deed for Prythian.” A smirk tugged at his lips, making her roll her pretty eyes at him before a pretty, teasing smile graced her lips. “Well, Rhysand of the infamous Night Court. You have successfully stolen me away from the male my mother is up in arms about to marry me off to, because, as we know, a female’s worth is only determined by the match she is making in the intricate dance of marriage. What are you going to do now?” YN looked at him rather expectantly, a teasing glint settling in her gaze, and he decided that she must be Spring encompassed.
And that he would be a fool for allowing her to be married off to anyone else.
Humming, he spun them around in the throng of other dancing pairs, knowing that every attention was laid on them. “Well, let me think,” he began and dipped her softly, making her laugh with pure delight before pulling her back into his arms. “I might pose as another suitor, living things up a bit.” He chuckled when YN hit his shoulder playfully, but in warning. “I meant what I said, Rhys.” The slip of his nickname barely surprised him because hers rested on the tip of his tongue ever since gathering her in his arms. “He won’t forget what you did, and if my mother gets her way and they marry me off to him, he will make me remember the way I slighted him. And I am not ready to be some fragile male’s plaything—or anyone’s plaything for that matter. I have been hidden and sequestered away for far too long, and I have fought for a place in the light of day harder than other ladies with my standing.” Rhys watched her sigh, and he felt her pain, her troubles all the way to his bones, but the fire in her eyes was refreshing. “You must know that I am the disappointment of my father for not being born a son, despite him having an actual heir. But I do not want a life next to a male who does not treat females kindly, who doesn’t even consider females equal to males. So, tell me, Rhysand.”
Her hand moved off his shoulder, fingers tangling into the buttoned dark blue, almost black appearing waistcoat he had obliged to wear at his mother’s request, pulling him closer than deemed appropriate. His heart beat like a storm at her confidence, at the way she composed herself, the way she knew what she wanted from existence itself.
“What are you going to do now? Consider me curious.” Now it was his turn to pull her closer, stopping them in the middle of the dancers twirling around them to the softly playing music, watching her face, mapping her striking features, gathering the courage for what he was about to do.
A finger moved under her chin to nudge it up, making her focus back on his eyes, and spring clashed with night. “I will court you. I will show you what it means being considered worthy and a male’s equal. I will try everything in my power to make you happy, and if you do not want me at any given point, I will released you. I won’t force you, I won’t draft up a marriage contract the moment I leave this festivity, demanding my right or claim on you because I am nothing like Eris Vanserra. You are no object for me. You are a lady I easily respect, someone I am dying to learn about—every quirk, every thought, every trouble and fear. And if you decide that, yes, I could be the male you want to marry, then… Yes.” He grew quiet for a moment, searching her face for anything that would make him stop, and when he didn’t find anything, he showed a slow smile.
The smile was easily reciprocated. “The Mother above does act in strange and uncertain ways…,” YN whispered, her head slowly cocking to its side again. “My mother won’t be happy. My father will be furious.” Rhysand softly shrugged his broad shoulders. “What if I tell you that I do not care?” The female chuckled at that. “Then I suggest you might have a taste for reckless endeavours and near-death experiences,” she teased him, making him laugh softly under his breath. “Perhaps. Perhaps I merely found a female I do not intend to let go again if she doesn’t demand it of me.”
Without warning, Rhys watched her push herself onto her tiptoes, and his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of her soft lips whispering against his skin when she kissed his cheek. They not only appeared to be as soft as the sweetest petals, they felt like them, too. “If the dream I have had ever since the last solstice has been any indication, prepare yourself for not only a courtship, Rhysand,” her lips whispered against his cheek, and shock settled in his body because—
—because he had the same dream and finally understood the meaning of it. The fog of his memories cleared slowly but steadily, and the longer he memorized YN’s face, the more the dream came into focus.
The bird as white as snow with the fire-kissed wings. The female sitting with her back to him in the House of Wind, the bird landing on her delicate shoulder. The slight cock of her head now so familiar because he had seen it numerous times tonight. And her slightly turned face when he stepped up behind her, hands resting on her upper arms, littered in intricate tattoos, and her smile so filled with love directed at him when he bent to kiss her softly, whispering a greeting at dawn.
His hands rested on her upper arms, now still bare and void of any masterfully drawn swirls and lines, and love did not fill her eyes yet, but a familiar warmth he would soon learn to crave and revel in while falling in love with the Lady of Spring—quickly and irrevocably.
Just as she would, too.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Please consider leaving a reblog, a comment, and a like if you enjoyed this one ♡
